#my skin is like ‘existing in this air on this earth is kind of not my thing tbh’

[emmaspolaroid]

I am very Itchy

[storiesoflilies]

moments in twilight

synopsis: oh, innocent child of blood and bones. you cry as if your heart bleeds fire. has nobody ever taught you to burn them all first? w.c: 13k.

pairing: heianera!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, major character death. mentions of cannibalism, violence, and slight gore. ANGST! sfw, but mdni!

a/n: this was requested by this enthusiastic nonie! i hope you enjoy this and that it’s everything you wanted <3 a massive shout to @spookuna for being my biggest supporter and cheerleader, because i genuinely couldn’t have done this without her!

divider / art / ao3 / @ficsforgaza

the first sight of her fate didn’t seem real, like something out of a dream.

she couldn’t understand what – or who – she was looking at.

perhaps it was a fully materialized specter born somewhere from the deepest recesses of her imagination, unknown even to herself. it certainly seemed that way to her; she was only six and knew nothing of the horrors of the world, except for those that came to life in scary stories.

her ghost was digging feverishly into the earth, its fingers curled like claws, like it was searching for something. it was a dirty, scrawny little thing, wearing no clothes except for a soiled fundoshi that looked as if it was strung together by luck and willpower. every so often, it would pull something stringy and limp into its mouth, devouring it rabidly, though she couldn’t make out what it was.

why would her imagination come up with something so… awful?

it wasn’t a pretty, or kind looking ghost to be sure, and she scratched her arms as an uncomfortable itch settled into her skin.

the specter paused, like a fawn that had been discovered.

and turned.

no… it was a wolf, but it was really just a boy.

a boy that stared at her with a basin full of blood in his eyes. a garden that should have been filled with a gorgeous array of ruby roses, was instead full of violence and malice, of death and root rot. this was not a normal, or happy, sort of boy like the boisterous ones in her village.

she still thought she was dreaming, still believed the boy was just a ghost.

because what else could he be? real boys didn’t have a second pair of small eyes beneath their normal ones. even if his were closed, his two pale lids shut tightly like an oyster.

would there be precious little red, red, red pearls underneath them?

a gentle gust of wind swept through the trees, ruffling the boys matted locks of hair, and he vanished from her sight like a puff of dust.

surely now it was a dream.

real boys couldn’t just disappear.

until she felt all the air knocked out from her lungs as she crashed backwards into the earth, sharp fingernails digging into the soft skin of her forearms, and the boy’s crimson eyes were consuming her in his fire.

she knew then it wasn’t a dream, because dreams couldn’t hurt her like this.

she kicked and struggled, her ears ringing from the force of her head knocking into the ground, screaming until one of his dirty hands covered her mouth. she stilled immediately, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, and sliding down the apples of her cheeks.

“you can’t steal,” the boy hissed, his voice sharp and pointed like nails, and he shook her roughly as he repeated like a mantra. “can’t steal, can’t steal.”

she whimpered and nodded frantically, as sharp stones from the earth pierced her skin, adding to her misery. the boy licked his lips, a snake tasting the air with its forked tongue, and bent down closer to her ear.

“i’m hungry” he whispered, a dusting of glee coating his words like powdery snow. “i want to eat you.”

the sky was haunted with the last light of the sunset, like the cries of a mourning mother, swirling with hues of orange and purple. she wondered if she was going to become a ghost that could only existed in her own mother’s dreams.

for the first time in her meager existence, she felt her childish immortality slipping between her tiny fingers.

something uncomfortably hot and wet spread out from beneath her thighs.

the boy sniffed once, twice, with his nose upturned.

then he cried out angrily, his red eyes flashing in the twilight hour, and shoved her roughly into the ground before releasing his grip on her, recoiling defensively infront of his hole of dirt. she scrambled up ungracefully to her feet, her chest heaving, wincing as she tasted bitter soil and salty tears on her tongue.

“yucky! dirty, dirty!” the boy spat indignantly, hypocritically, as if he wasn’t more soiled than she was.

he was rolling in the dirt now, rubbing his face and body with it as if it were soap, as if the coarse earth could wash her touch away from him. she took two steps backwards from him, feeling an eerie charge of energy settling into the edge of the forest.

like the spark of a flame that could ignite into a wildfire.

she took another slow step back.

and then another.

and another.

until she turned and fled, like a squawking bird escaping the grasp of a hawk, her short legs crying out as she sprinted faster than she ever had in her life. she ran all the way from the edge of the forest, up the slight incline of the main pathway through her village, and finally crashed through the doorway of her home, startling her mother who was scrubbing away at dirtied clothes in a bucketful of soapy water.

her mother gasped loudly, alarm rising like a looming mountain, always there and ever present. “whatever happened to you? you’re all scratched.”

lie.

she wailed loudly, messy snot dribbling down her nose and chin and right onto her mother’s worn, muted robes. her mother shushed her gently, bundling her child into her arms and pressing comforting kisses to her forehead.

“what happened, my dearest love?” her mother repeated, whispering softly and soothingly.

lie.

she somehow knew that if she told the truth, it would only invite chaos and misery into her home.

“i p-played in the forest a-and falled,” she finally hiccuped, her bottom lip pouting and wobbling.

her mother cooed, wiping away her tears with a warm, rough thumb. “you fell? my sweet, you’ll be alright. oh, oh. why have you wet yourself?”

more mucus ran down from her nose, and she wiped it messily with her palm as she shrugged her shoulders and said nothing. she let her mother fuss over her, completely unresponsive as she dunked her tiny body into a wooden bucket, washing away the touch of the wolfish, snake boy.

until all that remained of him were the little scratches dotting her arms – rough and ridged, lines carved into the trunks of trees.

she thought of him all through the night, even when her mother had tucked her into bed and tenderly kissed her brow. everything was unknown to her now, nothing was certain. was he actually like an animal, capable of following her scent and finding her here?

would he gorge on her until all that was left of her was red, red, red?

༺ ✤ ༻

the boy had taken over her life – he was everywhere, in everything.

haunting her.

taunting her.

filling her mind with paranoia and warped visions of his red eyes staring at her, always. she saw him in between the boards of the walls and floor, and in every bite of food she took. the wispy tendrils of his hands possessed hers, eating right alongside her. he was in the blood of her scrapes, which always seemed to reopen whenever she bathed, and in her tears as she whimpered quietly, unable to sleep as she hid beneath her blanket.

as if that could save her from him.

it was in the boy’s nature to haunt her with his hunt, to frighten and consume her every thought.

she couldn’t expect anything less than that; it was who he was.

she’d seen it in his eyes, a peephole into the true nature of his soul, and it was full of violence and cruelty and…

sadness.

… and beauty.

he was really just a sad, beautiful little boy.

a boy just as old as she was. a boy who had somehow been put on a path of loneliness, without light, kindness, or love.

it had to be some sort of twisted fascination she harbored for the boy, the same way she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blood trickling from his scratches, or stop listening to the stories of ghosts and monsters in the night.

maybe it was his strange power that was possessing her, gripping her like quicksand and sucking her further and further down into his madness.

yes, that had to be it.

because why else would she be heading straight towards the edge of the forest, to him?

she tightly grasped a small bowl of rice and vegetables between her little hands, swiped from her own dinner right beneath her mother’s nose. it had long since cold, and she hoped the ghost wouldn’t mind. it was an offering, a desperate plea to break free from his curse that haunted her.

snap!

snap! crackle, snap!

a few twigs snapped loudly beneath her feet – a damning announcement.

she froze, nearly dropping her bowl, breathing quick and shallow puffs of air.

snap!

another one, this time from behind her.

she whirled around, and there he was.

the boy stood beside a thick tree trunk, his head cocked to the side and his eyes widened into full crimson moons. he was even more disheveled than he was a week ago, with mud caked to his skin and hair like dried, flaky clay. his ribs were more prominent too, scarily so, and his cheeks were gaunt like a skeletons.

he was weak.

far too weak, she realized.

she immediately extended her arms out, the bowl teetering on the edge of her fingertips, and breathlessly said, “yours.”

the boy grunted, “huh?”

snap! snap! crackle!

he’d taken a few steps forward, carefully, ever so fearfully.

she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head up towards the twilight sky, her heart beating against her ribcage as if trying to escape, and tried more clearly, “food, for you.”

he was in front of her in a flash, his breath brushing over her cheeks. she cracked open an eye to peek at him, watching as he eyed the bowl with suspicion, sniffing loudly. he gagged offensively when his nose wandered too close to a vegetable, his tongue stretching far out from his mouth.

she half thought he was going to smack the bowl to the ground and lunge for her instead.

he’s going to eat me.

until he snatched it from her instead, retreating back behind the tree trunk.

she blinked, her lashes butterfly wings fluttering in a breeze.

there were the sounds of scoffing, rabid breathing and snuffling noises, and then nothing at all.

hiccup!

had he finished all of it already?

the boy’s face peeked out from behind the trunk, peering at her owlishly.

“why you back?” he asked simply, a touch of softness in his voice, the edge of a knife chipped and dulled.

she shrugged her shoulders. “you’re hungry.”

“but, what if i eat you?”

“tomorrow i’ll give you more, then you can’t eat me.”

he fully revealed himself, crouched low to the earth like a cat, staring up at her with his pupils blown. “you promise?”

she gulped. “i promise.”

“if you don’t, then i eat you!” he exclaimed, lips pulled back over his fangs in a threatening snarl, his hackles raised and shaking.

oddly, she didn’t feel afraid.

the ghost didn’t have the same malice as before; she could see his vulnerability in the way his fingers trembled. she felt it travel through the mountain air, settling onto her skin like a layer of dust. it wriggled like maggots, burrowing into her flesh and making her skin crawl.

her chest constricted painfully.

she felt so unbelievably and overwhelmingly sorry for him.

the boy scrunched his nose. “why’r you sad?”

“i’m not!” she replied quickly, a touch indignantly. she knew he would probably get angry if he knew how much she pitied him.

it was silent for quite some time as he stared at her, and she fidgeted in her spot. she knew she had to let him do this, to stay perfectly still like a rabbit in the reeds, as the wolf made its mind up whether it was hungry or not.

it seemed to work.

the boy huffed and collapsed to the ground in an ungraceful heap, his legs splayed out before him as he seemingly ignored her – a begrudging acceptance of her existing in his space.

she lowered herself to his level, the ground scraping beneath her legs, while maintaining that somewhat safe distance between them. her hands began to search for and pick up various rocks and twigs to play with, because she didn’t know what else to do to pass the time. the boy had his head held to the side, a shade of confusion painted over his cheeks as he clocked onto her every move.

she pretended he wasn’t there, ignoring the rising wave of bitter panic in her throat, and the fact that he was slowly inching closer to her, crawling to her like a prowling panther.

he sat beside her now, clearly observing how she sat with her legs crossed, then glanced towards his own legs kneeling into the dirt. she never stopped playing, pretending to be in her own world, watching from the corner of her eyes as the boy moved his body to mimic her posture and sitting position.

a giggle threatened to bubble out from between her lips.

the boy picked up a twig from her small pile, then retracted, looking at her with wonderful apprehension.

she gave him her full attention. “you can play too.”

another head tilt, and his pink lips curved downwards.

“…play?”

oh.

“have you never played before?”

“no, show me.”

and she did, without knowing how to really explain it. she told stories of how the twigs could be birds soaring between the gaps in the clouds, or the rocks could be fish darting in between the strands of a kelp forest. all the while, the boy was transfixed, and she began to really understand him for what he truly was.

scared and lonely, with an insatiable curiosity for new things – especially for her.

she only hoped she could live up to it.

༺ ✤ ༻

she discovered the boy’s name a fortnight later.

ryomen sukuna.

a strange sensation ran down her spine when she heard it for the first time, like a delicate lash from a whip made of fire.

she decided to ignore it.

they played together everyday since then, against the deep backdrop of the forest, and always during the duskiness of twilight. she would still sneak him scraps of whatever food she could spare, feeling guilty as her mother, who was none the wiser, always praised her for finishing her meals. her father would raise a questioning brow at her whenever she asked to play so late in the day, chiding her for being reckless, even if she passionately justified – albeit, borderline erraticly – that her imaginary friend would be very lonely without her.

“but why now? why can’t you play during the day with your… friend?”

“because he only comes out when the sun goes down.”

maybe sukuna really was a ghost.

she liked to hold onto that superstition. it made her lies a little less white, because he definitely wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

but it was still a lie, a pearlescent river of alabaster, and it had continued to flow strong for three years now.

she was nine years old, and during their time together, sukuna had only revealed glimpses of himself in little tidbits. it was like a sweet bite of plum on a hot summer’s day, satiating her for a time, but always leaving her hungry for more.

“where do you sleep?”

“i dig a big hole, you wanna see?”

“why do you only come after the sun?”

“i’m here all the time, you just don’t see me.”

but sometimes.

just sometimes, and only if she timed her questions right.

then sukuna would indulge her in just a little more.

“why are your eyes red?”

ryomen paused, a wickedly sharpened two-pronged stick in his hand, and shrugged nonchalantly. “i was hungry in my mother’s tummy, so i ate my brother.”

(there was a great clap of thunder somewhere far away, and the great sinful cut of the world bled just a little more.)

they were quiet for a long time after that.

he’d resumed stabbing the earth with his wooden weapon, completely unperturbed.

as if what he’d said was the most normal thing, like it was as easy as drinking the rain that fell from the pine leaves.

sukuna often said twisted things – things that reminded her of who she was really dealing with. although he had somewhat softened around her, he was still as wild and unforgiving as the mountainside he lived on.

she could never ever show him that it put her on edge.

still, much to her own shock, she was growing used to the depravity.

not that sukuna was always wicked, no. he would always ask her things, and she’d try to assume an air like her mother, knowledgeable and benevolent, as she guided him. when he wanted to know how she ate without using her hands, she took a pair of chopsticks from her kitchen and showed him how to use them. he’d sniff her hair, alarmingly too close, and asked how it was so much softer than his.

so one evening, she took him to the river where some of the villagers bathed during the day, and taught him how to wash himself.

“show me,” he’d ordered, his characteristic head tilt an open book of confusion.

he was more perplexed when she became flustered and refused to do it.

the ensuing conversation, in which she explained why she couldn’t just do that, was extremely awkward to say the least.

but she was even more surprised the next day when she came to play, and he was awkwardly standing there, his cheeks as pink as the once-hidden peaches in his hair. she’d stopped straight in her tracks, almost not recognizing her ghost without all the grime and dirt covering him.

he’s so beautiful…

ryomen blinked slowly, catlike, staring at his unusually clean feet with something akin to bashfulness. “what?”

“nothing,” she smiled, gentle like the summer rain that had just started to fall. “let’s play.”

༺ ✤ ༻

it was autumn now.

the leaves of the maple trees had turned into molten gold and burnt orange peels, and the remaining blooms had already died out petal by petal. there was a chill bite in the air, a promise of snow and piercing cold to come. she hated when the weather was like this, she worried about sukuna living in the wild in such conditions, and it only made it harder to go out and play with him in the evenings.

he, however, enjoyed it whenever the weather turned cold – it soothed the fire in his blood.

or so he said.

sukuna was lying down beside her, saccharine on the grass whilst looking up at the sky. he was wearing some washed-out linen clothes, a size too big, that she had managed to steal one day from the village boys bathing in the river. the deep plum wine in the skies mixed with the blood in his eyes – all four of them – the two colors swirling and teasingly touching each other.

two nights ago, the wind had been howling like wolves, screaming of murder and spilled blood in the darkness. there had been a strange heaviness in the air, a sort of static, like lighting biding its time to strike.

when she saw sukuna the next morning, he had a proud grin on his face, his teeth and mouth speckled with blood. all his eyes were wide open, staring at her as if to say ‘look at us, look at us!’

she knew that he had committed some sort of depravity in the night to have earned the transformation.

but he never told her.

perhaps she was never meant to know.

they were always alert, darting between everything and anything that moved even in the slightest – from the leaves rustling high up a tree, to the birds soaring high up in the sky, and to the blades of grass tickled by the wind.

and her.

one always rested on her.

“ryo,” she started, ripping fistfuls of grass. “do you like to play in the snow?”

the eye fixed on her rolled in annoyance. “no, and stop calling me that,” he huffed.

she rolled her eyes, blowing a hot-pink raspberry at him. “yes you do, liar! i know you do.”

she knew that sukuna loved to be teased, but only when he was carefree and relaxed. during moments like now, with the ghost of the permanent scowl sewn into his features unraveled into wispy threads of gold. he was seriously mulling over what she had just said, something she knew he also enjoyed – untangling mysteries and puzzles in his mind, a satisfied gleam in his eyes when he finally figured them out.

“i don’t… like anything.”

she stilled.

a blade of grass fell from her grip, and she gnawed on her bottom lip.

why did she feel so embarrassed?

he wasn’t really referring to her at all – and yet, it all felt so personal.

“okay,” was all she could muster weakly, barely a whisper, resuming her onslaught on the grass like nothing mattered at all.

maybe none of it ever did.

sukuna turned his head and stared at her strangely, but said nothing.

thwack!

he was grinning wildly now. “let me chase you.”

she wiped away the raindrops that had splattered onto her cheek, a slight sting on her thigh from his smack. “i don’t wanna play.”

“but… you like this game,” sukuna frowned, head tilted, rolling over with his elbows digging into the grass. “why not?”

“i jus-ow! stop hitting me!”

“start running then.”

so she did, quite begrudgingly.

her footsteps crackled loudly against the forest floor, as the dark grey clouds darkened even more and the rain fell faster, and the sun dipped further behind a neighboring mountain. sukuna was hot on her trail, and she knew how easily he could catch up to her in an instant, but he never did. it was as if he switched off whatever made him less human during their games. maybe it was to give her a fighting chance, or perhaps it was entertaining to him to know he could always win whenever he wanted to.

if she got to the village fast enough, she would win today.

she swung herself against a tree trunk to propel herself forward, imagining she was an agile deer leaping between the trees.

get to the village.

win.

run, you can wi-

her leg gave way beneath her, sliding up in an arc as she slipped backward. her head hit the ground, and stars and minuscule black moons danced in her eyes amidst the silver clouds.

sukuna appeared above her, his face upside down, all of his eyes on her with what looked something like panic in his irises. it made her heart skip a beat, followed by a swarming terror of bats and a throbbing swell of pain in her left ankle.

and then… sheer, crippling embarrassment.

she started to wail loudly.

big salty droplets squeezed out from her tearducts, running to her temples and mixing with the rain in the dirt. sukuna's face contorted painfully, his mouth pulled into a grimace, his eyes darting over her like a hummingbird flitting between flowers.

"s-stop doing that," he tried to order harshly, but was cruelly betrayed by the shaky wobbling his lip.

snot messily dribbled down her nose as her ankle started to throb more intensely. "it h-hurts!"

"stop crying!" sukuna exclaimed, his fists clenched and shaking. "just stop."

she made the mistake of moving her leg, and cried out as fiery pain licked a smoldering trail straight up to her head. "ryo! please. make it stop, make it stop, make it stop."

his face fell, crumbling into pieces. with a tenderness she had never known, and the sleeves of his shirt falling over his hands, sukuna gently held the sides of her face.

she stilled, a drop of crystal suspended in time.

he hushed her, soothingly. "it's okay. just... please. stop crying."

she sniffled, broken sobs stuttering out from her lips, until they fizzed out altogether. all the while, sukuna never let her go, their foreheads brushing against each other, his peach frizz blowing in the wind. oh, how she wished she could see his face. she wanted to know that he wasn't faking this level of care – of emotion – if nothing really mattered to him.

sukuna lifted his head, his blood eyes glossy and pained, and whispered, "does it still hurt?"

her bottom lip trembled dangerously and she nodded. sukuna sighed, his hands leaving her face and scrunching his hair.

"i-," he paused, nervous. "let me try something."

sukuna looked at her expectantly, eyes widened and pleading. she nodded again, not sure exactly what she was agreeing to, he moved slowly, cautiously, as if any sudden move would set off her pain again. all the while, his gaze was trained on her, settled and pooling on her already swelling ankle.

he breathed out shakily, placing a rough palm over her warm skin, and she whimpered as a piping hot sensation seeped through to her bone. it was nothing like pain, but it felt like sukuna. it was a strange feeling, like little bubbles popping on the skin he touched. she knew then what she was feeling – his power. sukuna was concentrating hard, little grunts escaping his lips every so often, his brow deeply furrowed into a valley of ridges.

the power rose, a tidal wave of fire and blood, and then collapsed into nothing.

he hissed in frustration, sharply pulling his hand back from her ankle, head bowed almost… shamefully.

it was quiet for a heartbeat longer before sukuna muttered, “i’m sorry, i can’t fix you. i’m not strong enough.”

her heart swelled, and she smiled weakly. “it’s okay, ryo.”

he looked up at the dark sky, mouth opening and closing as he chased his words and settled on, “its going to be night soon.”

she looked up too, watching the veil of the silver crescent moon lifting. “mhm.”

she sat up slowly, sukuna immediately turning to watch her. “i-i don’t think i can walk, ryo,” she mumbled. “how can i get home?”

“but… you can’t stay here.”

“i know.”

“the bears will hunt you.”

“ryo, i know!”

his head tilted and a spark lit in his eyes.

“i can carry you!” sukuna blurted out, his chest puffed out proudly. “i’ll bring you to where i sleep. it’s warm there, and then the bears can’t eat you because i’ll be there.”

“… you can fight a bear?”

“what do you think i eat now? i told you I didn’t need your stinky vegetables anymore!”

she blinked three times.

“okay, and then what?”

“and then… i can figure it out in the morning. i’ll keep trying to make you better when you sleep so you can go home.”

without hearing another word from her, sukuna swept her into his arms, eliciting a startled yelp from her. he settled into a brisk pace, taking them both much farther away from the village. the light darkened considerably this deep into the forest, the trees hugging each other so tightly that hardly any of the sun’s waning light could pierce between the leaves.

suddenly, he stopped.

sukuna hunched over, her cheek squishing against his chest, and gently placed her down into a cavernous burrow.

"you really weren't joking when you said you sleep in a hole," she half-heartedly joked, looking around.

he scoffed, crossing his legs and sitting beside her injured side, halfway turned towards the entrance to the burrow. "you don't like it?"

"i never said that! it's just... different."

"not all of us live in a nice home."

the air turned slightly sour, lemons tainting his softness, and they were completely silent. the sounds of the night became louder then; strange animal cries off in the distance, and the rain pelting down from outside, steady drip drip drip of droplets falling from the entrance. sukuna was right, his burrow was reasonably warm. almost, dare she say it, actually comfortable.

he was still beside her, a hand pressed lightly to her injury, his power ebbing and rushing forward like a wave against the shore. as the night grew longer, sukuna seemed to be getting more and more agitated, hissing lowly as he failed at every attempt to heal her. she couldn't sleep regardless of his noises; the enormity of the situation she was in was too jarring. what if a bear discovered their sanctuary? what would her parents be thinking right now? sukuna had to be hungry, as well tired from expending his power. could he really fight a bear if it came down to it?

"ryo?"

"go to sleep."

"but i-"

"shut up, or i'll let the bears eat you."

"ryo! i just wanted to ask you something."

he groaned in annoyance. "what then?"

"earlier, when you said you didn't like anything. did you mean it?"

"well... yes. i don't lie."

"oh, yeah. i know."

sukuna tilted his head, both left eyes rolling towards her. "why did you get sad when i said that?"

heat rose to her cheeks. "did not!"

"you did so! i felt you get sad! you’re getting sad again now"

she fidgeted uncomfortably. "because!"

"because?"

"because, because- ugh! because then that means you don't like me, okay? and that hurts my feelings.”

red eyes flashed in the dark. “why do you care if i like you?”

“because we’re-you… you’re my friend. of course i care if you like me.”

“but, what if i don’t care?”

her heart dropped, and a fresh tear prickled the corner of her eye. “you don’t?” she mumbled quietly, a drop in an ocean of naive, childish feelings.

sukuna’s face crumbled again, and he gripped her ankle just a fraction tighter. “no! i mean, yes! i do care.”

he bashfully looked away, mumbling under his breath before he said a bit louder, “i like you.”

she perked right up at that. “you do?”

“mhm.”

“you promise?”

a low grumble. “promise.”

༺ ✤ ༻

for five days and five nights, she was in another world.

a world where all the memories of her past were washed away by the swirling green of the deep forest. it was an almost cathartic experience, a transition from one plane of existence to the next – one drawn in dripping red ink, a solitary existence that belonged only to ryomen sukuna.

or, at least, it was easier to imagine it that way.

otherwise, the painful pangs of guilt would strike her violently whenever her thoughts strayed to her village and family. if she paused and closed her eyes, she could feel the steady thrum of her mother’s grief, like an earthquake reverberating across the distance between them. it was all too much for her young mind to bear.

and so, she willingly slipped through the doorway into a new reality, where it was just her and her crimson ghost.

during that time, she had learned how to read him.

his anger was a lashing snake hidden between the rocks – wickedly sharp and quick to strike her with venomous words. they would spread quickly though her blood, making her huddle into herself, perfectly still, like a mouse meeting its most unfortunate end.

fortunately for her, she was only bitten once, and the snake had only acted out of hunger, not genuine malice.

if sukuna’s anger had been real, she doubted she would have lived to see the next sunrise.

his apology came much later after he had returned from the hunt, a satiated tiger slow to act. the only acknowledgement of his remorse was a silent head pat with a bloody palm.

his fear was iron claws scratching against a rock, piercingly grating and scraping at the walls of her heart. if sukuna was fearful, she knew it by the way he stalked and paced outside the burrow, a whip strike away from pouncing on anything that moved even slightly out of the ordinary.

“there are more people in the forest,” sukuna would mutter darkly during those fearful fits. “they're shouting your name.”

“did they see you?”

he responded with nothing more than a pointed look.

but above all, it was his kindness that was most present.

she first noticed it in the way sukuna corrected himself around her, protecting her from certain aspects of his lifestyle. for instance, when she saw the blood on his hands after a kill, or saw how horrified she was when he offered her raw, dripping meat from a deer he had just killed. it was in the way he had immediately changed his ways – washing his hands after a hunt, and skinning and butchering his kills far from the burrow so she wouldn’t see a thing.

it was also in the way he pretended he wasn’t purposely foraging berries for her, dropping them onto her lap like he had just randomly stumbled across them. it was in his stubborn refusal to give up on healing her every night when he thought she was asleep, and in how he treated her like precious sugar glass – so very careful in how he handled her.

it shouldn’t have been so surprising to discover that ryomen sukuna was neither cruel nor mad.

he was still that lonely boy from all those years ago, still learning how to be kind while yearning and searching for love.

one day, she saw him play with fire between his fingertips as if it were nothing extraordinary.

she saw how the blood in his eyes came alive, like dancing waves of a turbulent red sea. when he looked at her, she didn't expect him to smile so gently as he started a small fire and cooked her meat for her.

after sukuna had shown her more of his power, the cracks in his soul seemed to split apart, and his fire teemed and spilled out uncontrollably. he finally began to open up to her, telling her things she had always wanted to discover, along refreshingly childish ramblings.

“you know, i actually didn’t mind eating your stinky vegetables. yeah.”

“deer aren’t actually that pretty, but watching them when they’re still is… relaxing?”

“yeah, i lied before. i do like playing in the snow, especially throwing it at you.”

but some of the worst things would also spill out – things she would have preferred to never know, because they were dark and cruel enough to change the way she viewed the world.

“i didn’t mean to eat my brother, but i was just really hungry in my mother’s tummy, and she wasn’t feeding us.”

“she called me a demon for what i did.”

“no, i don’t know know where she is now, and i don’t know about my father too.”

“i do… feel a bit bad about eating my brother, because he was hurting.”

there was a stretched, almost foreboding silence before sukuna finally asked the question that must have been on his mind since the day they met.

“are you afraid of me?”

the fire spit and fizzled, and she hissed as a spark danced dangerously close to her skin.

“no, ryo. you’re my best friend.”

“really?!”

“well, duh. you saved me.”

he shuffled ever so slightly closer, their arms just about to touch, and mumbled, “so did you.”

she really believed she could have stayed with sukuna forever.

but her new world was shattered on the morning of the sixth day, as if the cosmic rulings of the world had decreed that they'd both had enough of a good thing.

still, it was all her fault – it had to be.

she was the one who insisted that she was too cold, that the chill in the air was day beyond what she could tolerate. she felt the wet tears clinging to her lashes were about to freeze over, and sukuna could not stand to see her cry. so, despite his own warnings, he lit her a fire for her during the day and watched nervously as the smoke rose high above the trees.

it wasn't long before the hunters came.

they came silently, prowling and closing in on them both.

and sukuna knew it.

he was bristling defensively, his neck hairs rising, eyes closed, and head bowed in the direction of a bush that had rustled unnaturally. the hunters crept forward cautiously, eyeing the boy with barely concealed suspicion, while beckoning for her to come with them.

she stayed put, pretending she was a statue of ice that couldn’t understand a thing.

a hunter tightened his grip on his bow.

another nocked an arrow.

and sukuna opened his eyes.

chaos erupted, a whirlwind of metal and feathers and red, red, red.

the hunters charged forward, consumed by a fear they could not rationally explain – of demons and monsters possessing their hearts and minds. but sukuna was faster than all of them, disappearing in a flash, and reappearing to hurl a hunter against a tree.

the poor souls had no clue what they were up against.

she knew sukuna could – and would – kill them all.

"no! no! no!" she screamed, heaving and desperately clawing at her face. “please.”

somehow, he could understand her amidst the shouts and cries of anguish from the men who had come for her.

(he always did, he always would.)

the boy of blood and fire stilled, dropping his hands to his sides, and the wolves descended upon him instantly.

she screamed once more as a hunter seized her, dragging her away from the fray of madness. all the while, sukuna remained curled in a fetal position, all of his eyes locked on her retreating figure as he endured the the blows to his body with stoic silence.

only his eyes betrayed his pain.

༺ ✤ ༻

her heart was weak.

it could only beat with half its strength, as if it couldn’t be bothered to do what was expected of it.

when she was returned to the village, to the nearly suffocating embrace of her weeping mother, she was hailed as a miracle – a little girl who had somehow survived a demon. she was cherished and fussed over by the whole village, her family showered with gifts of millet and rice, plenty of dried boar to survive the winter, and stone amulets for protection against the evil that had touched them.

meanwhile, sukuna had escaped.

the hunters had said the demon vanished into the highest peaks of the mountains, where they could not follow. they bowed low and deep to her mother, their knees buckling as they vowed vengeance on the scourge of the mountain. but she knew it was all for show. they were completely terrified of him, too proud to admit it, and so the mere memory of sukuna was spat on and desecrated by the other villagers.

oh, if only they knew the truth of it all.

it took a fortnight for her heartstrings to stop aching from the pain of being ripped apart from sukuna, and even longer for her piercing wails to cease every night before she slept. her tears burned, tears of fire and salt, made from sukuna's precious blood that had dripped down his face as he was beaten.

all because of her.

her parents couldn't fathom her sheer anguish, perplexed and frightened by its intensity, and only able to explain it as the effect of a demon. all they could do was pray for her recovery, and the rest of the village did the same.

in the beginning, when she had exhausted all her energy from wailing and crying, she would peer into the darkness of the room. through the gaps in the walls of her home, she willed and prayed so fervently that she would one day see four red orbs peering back at her.

but twelve winters and summers came and went without sukuna, and she began to wonder if had all been just a dream. an elaborate tale of an imaginary friend her mind had tricked her into believing was real. a ghost that was never meant to be, one she ought to bury in the deepest recesses of her memories where he could finally rest.

but, oh, how lifeless her world was without him.

nobody could understand or see how the anguish swirled beneath her skin. she didn’t even have the words to describe it to herself anymore, other than she was not doing well at all and felt sick all the time.

how very isolating it all was.

she was fifteen now, and all her parents could talk to her about was marriage.

“you are a young lady now!” her mother would gush loudly, almost nagging. “one who survived a demon, and every man who passes through the village wants your hand.”

she tried not to think about it at all, but it loomed larger and larger over her head as the years passed, and she doubted she could remain as she was for much longer. in those moments, her thoughts would always stray to sukuna, and how if she could have married anybody, then it would have been him.

it was the only thing that felt right.

she tried not to dwell on that for too long.

but trying not thinking about ryomen sukuna was like telling the sky not to cry.

there were often tales from afar that the traveling merchants told the villagers as they stopped for respite and to sell their crafts – stories full of horrors and atrocities. entire villages, along with all their inhabitants, were found burnt to cinders or encased in a tomb of ice, with no rhyme or reason why, simply there one minute and gone the next. there were accounts of cries and calls from strange creatures in the night, born from suffering and pain. some spoke of certain people being able to wield magic, only to be found mangled and nearly destroyed by others of the same power.

she would think of sukuna after hearing those stories and wonder what kind of life he was living.

was he just as lonely as she was?

or was he happy indulging in the violence of his nature?

then, one fateful day, her father placed a hand on her head fondly and said, “tonight is your omiai, dearest. you will finally meet the man the nakodo has chosen as your husband.”

and that was that.

that night, she stared into the eyes of the man she was to marry.

they were kind, warm – so very plain. he spoke a little to her, mainly about how he could offer her a better life than what she had now. something more comfortable, with a better house, more food, and even kimonos made of silk.

it all sounded… safe.

reliable.

her family was happy she was marrying such a man, and assured her that they would come and visit her in her new home once she had settled in.

she didn’t care about that at all.

all she could think about was red, red, red, and how it felt like the ultimate betrayal.

she could do nothing but nod placidly at them all.

really, she should count her blessings that she was about the same age as her soon-to-be husband, and that he seemed likely to treat her with kindness and respect. maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could convince herself that she would find some measure of fulfillment in her marriage.

she could learn to accept it all, even force herself to be happy.

even if a part of her could never be scrubbed clean from all the red.

the day before she left for her betrothed’s village, she went to the clearing in the forest where it all began. it was midday, the sun high in the air, and the sweet bite of winter kissed her cheeks as she stood there clutching the white silks that had been gifted to her.

“things are going to change for me,” she whispered to the trees that had long watched over her and sukuna, her head bowed low. "and i do not believe i will ever return here.”

desperation gripped her in a suffocating hold, hooking its claws deep into her spine. she wondered if there was a string that connected her to sukuna. a red-stained one, dripping in their blood. would he feel it wherever he was in the world if she pulled it hard enough?

if she tried, would he come for her?

(a gust of wind, a spark of flame, and a ripple of blood.)

she had realized some time ago what she had felt as a child.

but it was still a terrifying thing to admit to herself, even now, in this quiet corner of the world, that she had once been in love with ryomen sukuna.

it was best to bury it here with the trees.

tonight was the eve of her wedding, and all she wanted was to have just stayed there.

it was supposed to have been a night of solitary peace.

the last one she would ever have, with only the sound of the herbal bathwater rippling and the scent of yuzu in the air to keep her tethered to this world.

it had all been overturned in an instant.

the monsters came swiftly down from the mountainside in the night, slaughtering and tearing their way through every home in the village. the night was full of brutal screams, blood moons and snow falling from the weeping clouds. she could see them, but others weren’t so lucky. that brief look of terrified confusion was haunting – blood bubbling from their mouths as their throats were slashed by something they couldn’t see.

she stared at her fiancé, both of them trapped beneath a wooden beam, as his eyes, wide and lifeless, had not a single trace of the kindness they had once held. death had never been so close to her before, she could almost feel the cold kiss of its blade against her throat, beckoning her closer to the other side.

their assailant was a thin creature, broken and bent, with a feminine form. it licked the dripping blood of her betrothed from its wickedly sharp claws, unperturbed to the rest of the carnage unfolding around it.

“i miss you, i miss you,” it hissed in a low, screeching voice. “i love you, i miss you.”

the demon turned to her, eyeless, with only a mouth full of teeth and a thousand tongues, as if it could smell the life and heat fading from her blood. it crawled sideways towards her, its scraggly black hair brushing the ground in front of her face.

it paused, dipping its face down towards her, its reeking, snarling breaths close to her ear.

she screamed weakly as it sank its teeth into her shoulder.

soon, all our ghosts will dance together.

pale pink rose petals fluttered from the sky, falling along with the snow.

how beautiful is death?

“hmph, idiot.”

a flash of a thousand blades, and the world turned red and then black.

༺ ✤ ༻

it was the smell of incense that coaxed her back from the dreams of death.

honeyed rays of light danced behind her closed eyelids, their warmth caressing her brow and lips in golden life. when her eyes finally opened, she was convinced that she must have already been reborn. her body was wrapped in opulent silk sheets, delicately embroidered with intricate gold and silver flowers. a byobu depicting a blooming cherry blossom tree stood a few paces in front of the bed.

this was a bedroom of royalty, dripping with extravagance.

she felt as if she didn’t belong here.

but when she pinched the skin of her forearm, felt her legs moving and toes wriggling, and heard the sheets rustling loudly, she knew that this was all very real. all the blood that had been spilled was real, the kind man who would have given her a good life was truly dead, along with his entire village.

“you're awake then are you?”

she froze.

that voice.

it can't be.

so intimately familiar, yet it belonged to the strangest of strangers – deep as the oceans she had never seen, mysterious and smoky like the swirls of incense wafting through the room.

this was the voice of death.

she felt like she had heard it before, as if she should know who it belonged to.

because it was too beautiful to forget.

“sukuna?” she called out in disbelief, her voice fragile and trembling like leaves.

a low chuckle followed. “you still know me.”

oh my.

“h-how are you here? where have you – but y-you disappeared.”

the outline of shadow loomed large behind the byobu, and she gulped.

“i’ve been everywhere in this country. there’s nowhere i haven’t seen.”

it’s him, it’s really him.

sukuna hummed again, his figure swaying. she could make out the shadow of the bridge of his nose and his lips, as well as the elaborate layers of clothing he wore.

“do you remember what happened?” he finally asked after a prolonged silence.

she clenched her fists tightly. “yes.”

“good. and before you accuse me of it, i had nothing to do with what happened to you.”

“i-i wasn't going to.”

“how quaint. it’s rare that i’m not accused of causing wanton violence.”

she watched his shadow reach over and pour a liquid into a cup, followed by soft sipping noises as he drank from it.

“those... those things,” she began tepidly. “is that what you are?”

sukuna snorted. “no. i'm nothing like those low-grade cretins.” he sipped from his cup again. “although, it’s good that you can see curses. next time, you should run instead of just stand there.”

she was starting to remember him again.

she knew that he was nervous; it was evident in his sharp jibes toward her. sukuna always acted like this in unfamiliar situations, when he was unsure of how to act around her. so he would poke and prod because, at least, he understood pain and anger.

she chose to ignore it.

“i went back to the village,” he said, clearing his throat. “it hasn't changed much.”

a flash of terror struck her like lightning.

“but imagine my surprise when i discovered that something had actually changed,” sukuna’s voice had taken on a goading tone, and she could tell he wasn't pleased in the slightest. “you had left to go and get married, of all things.”

my family.

he scoffed, as if he sensed her shift in emotions. “oh, don't worry. your parents told me quite willingly. they were smart enough to know they couldn’t keep me from you.”

a trail of ice and fire ran down her spine.

oh, how much more dangerous have you really become, ryomen sukuna?

dread settled onto her bones like melted lead, and despite her better judgement, she sputtered out, "why now, after all this time?"

silence.

maybe he didn’t even know why.

sukuna's silhouette swayed back and forth behind the byobu, like beech trees high up the mountains, struggling to stay upright during a blizzard. like them, he was battling, but always against himself. his perpetual internal war against that small part inside of him that was human; full of his pain, fear, and kindness. sukuna’s cup was overflowing, even if he didn’t realize it, spilling and pouring everywhere – but she knew it.

she’d known it for the longest time.

“ryo,” her voice cracked like splintering glass. “answer me.”

he sighed, exasperated, “its been so long” – a sharp exhale – “but i can’t stop bleeding!”

utterly perplexed, she frowned. “bleeding? wha-”

sukuna’s shadow rose like a bonfire, erratically pacing in front of the byobu, and she could have sworn she saw the dancing shadows of four swaying arms.

he snarled, the words wrenched from between his fangs, "they tore you from me, and it made my heart bleed. it hasn’t stopped bleeding, because of you."

bang!

his heavy fist struck the screen, and she flinched frightfully.

“i-i don’t k-know what you mean,” she stuttered fearfully, her breaths coming out in rapid, little puffs. “i don’t understand what’s going on.”

he groaned, collected himself, and rolled his shoulders back purposefully. when he spoke again, his tone was calm, with none of the previous fire that had been spitting out from between his teeth.

“it doesn’t matter,” sukuna said, moving away from the cover as his silhouette disappeared. “you’re here now.”

the hidden implications were not as subtle as he thought. he was just as possessive as he had ever been, and it seemed that ryomen sukuna would not be letting go of her again.

she was still his, and had been for all these long years.

“you must be hungry,” he said, swiftly changing the subject. “come here.”

her heart quickened.

slowly, she rose from the safety of the bed, each step as momentous as it was absolutely terrifying. after all this time, she would see sukuna again. the boy who had once protected her, coveted her, and shielded her from the worst parts of himself. the one who wanted to change his ways and be softer for her.

she rounded the byobu.

and there he was.

her bones shivered as her mind froze her in place, stopping her from moving a single step closer.

sukuna was sitting perfectly cross-legged in front of a low table, his eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips parted. a hand was frozen mid-air, suspending in bringing his cup closer to his mouth.

oh, how much he had changed.

sukuna had grown significantly in height, could quite easily tower over her if he stood. he was no longer a boy, but a man – big, broad, and dangerous. and she had not been mistaken before; he had four arms, adorned with strangest black markings, just like his face. if it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. sukuna was everything taboo in this world, an embodiment of death and fury itself.

“sit,” he ordered, breaking his gaze and motioning in front of him.

his words were in a refined tongue, the kind spoken by highborn royalty and nobles spoke in – those who were educated and understood things beyond the grasp of people like her. she obeyed, feeling the urge to be as well-spoken as possible.

she had never felt so small or so common in all her life.

there was an array of different foods on the table, each more richly presented than the next. elegant bowls held freshly cut fish, arranged to look like the petals of a flower. at the centre of the table sat a lacquered bowl of sekihan at the center of the table, the red bean rice a sharp contrast to the earthy tones of the pickled vegetables around it. mochi of all colors and shapes were delicately wrapped in oak leaves, and chopsticks of pearl and gold were laid beside each of their settings.

sukuna cleared his throat. “so, marriage.” she nodded silently, picking up a piece of mochi. he continued, “i’m assuming it was arranged.”

“yes. he-uh, arrived one day in the village, he was a merchant. my father and the nakodo approved, and that was it.”

he hummed thoughtfully, a fearsome blaze in his eyes. “and did you want this?”

dangerous territory, tread carefully.

“n-not really, but he seemed… kind.”

a flash of red fury crossed his face, and sukuna pursed his lips. “i see. is that what matters most to you, then – kindness?”

careful, careful, careful.

“well… i did not want to end up with a man who would hurt me.”

a dry chuckle. “and do you believe that i will?”

a flash of a memory – of a burrow, of shared tears and painful farewells.

never.

“no,” she replied firmly, picking up another piece of mochi and chewing.

he seemed to approve of her answer, watching as she continued to eat. “good.”

they were silent again, the only sounds coming from the distant chirping of birds and the gentle trickle of a fountain outside. sukuna’s smaller eyes remained fixed on her, while the rest of his attention was on his meal and sake, his expression intensely contemplative and serious. his earlier heat had subsided into a brooding stillness, and he seemed just as amazed as she was that they were finally in each other’s presence again.

she bit her lip before tepidly trying his nickname on her tongue again, “ryo?”

he stilled for a moment, his eyes glistening with a hint of vulnerability before it vanished, and then made a questioning noise.

“what exactly do you expect from me here?”

“you will receive an education, i will not allow you to remain illiterate. you will learn to read and write, and study the arts and poetry. that is all i ask in return.”

“in return for what?”

“for residing in my residence with me. you will not return to the mountains or the village, and you will never see your parents again.”

this was it.

her childhood dream of staying with sukuna was finally here. perhaps he had really felt her pulling on their red string, felt her desperation and fear, and had come to save her. he wasn’t entirely human, after all; maybe he could have sensed her from so far away, and known about that deep hole within her. and so, he had taken her away from it all, demanding only that she say goodbye to everything she had ever known.

but things were different now.

they weren’t little children anymore. there was a taste of change in the air – something tantalizing and liberating. their dynamics had shifted, whether they wanted it or not. adulthood had brought new possibilities that couldn’t have been there before, the kind that made her heart race and chest flutter.

in the way sukuna’s eyes flashed, she felt that he knew it too.

it was her fate after all, she had just been too young to comprehend it.

so be it.

“alright.”

༺ ✤ ༻

the ink was blacker than raven feathers.

drip! drip! drip!

as beautiful as the depth of midnight, it shouldn’t be wasted.

she bowed her head, pensively holding her brush. the words were right there on her fingertips, straight from the centre of her heart, but she didn’t know how to say them.

or rather, if she could say them correctly.

biting her lip, she lightly pressed her brush to the page, the words flowing out with every stroke. when she was done, she leaned back on her heels and looked expectantly at her teacher.

“your brush technique was incorrect,” uraume chided emotionlessly, their icy aura ever present. “but you were close. try it like this instead, see?”

sukuna’s second had been tasked with educating her and showing her the finer ways of noble life. under uraume’s tutelage, she learned to draw the beautiful curves of hiragana and the straight, angular lines of katakana. she was introduced to the golden literature of her country, where she delved into classic and more modern texts, and learned to appreciate the hidden depths beneath the surface of grand tales and poetry.

once, she had been jealous of uraume. it was unnerving to see how much confidence sukuna placed in the ambiguous and frosty figure, and it hurt to know he trusted someone other than her. but she soon came to realize that uraume’s sole desire was to serve sukuna, and sukuna harbored nothing for them other than respect that surely had been well earned.

“try it again,” uraume suggested, returning to their position behind her and watching over her shoulder as she picked up the brush once more.

moreover, uraume was neither cruel nor haughty about her illiteracy and never treated her like a lowborn. they always guided her with a gentle coldness and a detached tone of instruction. she wondered what they thought about the nature of her relationship with sukuna, and if perhaps uraume had ever been jealous of her. she liked to think they hadn’t been, and if they had, they never showed it or asked any questions. for that, she was grateful.

what she had with sukuna wasn’t something she could describe easily.

he was there now, one of his eyes watching the way her hands moved with the brush. it wasn’t unusual that he was present; sukuna often observed their lessons, seating himself a distance and quietly reading a book or scroll. he never lavished her with praise, such was not his nature, but offered more subtle compliments in her progress: a tilt of his head, a single nod, and a hum of approval.

she would be lying to herself if she said it didn’t thrill her to hold his attention.

they only grew closer as time went on, building new little routines with each other. every night after they dined together, sukuna would tap his fingers rhythmically on the low table, completely silent, as she either read poetry from a book or recited it from memory. these were moments of softness, sukuna's strange way of drawing closer her, as the red thread connecting them weaved them closer to each other with every passing night. his gratitude was silent too: a heavy hand on her head, a quick press of his fingers to her cheek, and a small smile as he left.

it was easy to imagine sukuna as changed in those moments, a regal lord always composed and calm.

but that wasn't the reality of the world.

she was frequently reminded of it.

"i need to go," he would suddenly say, abruptly pulling her from her focus.

she closed her book and peered up at him through her lashes. “where?”

sukuna smirked, a wild gleam in his eyes. “to quench my thirst.���

he would then disappear, but never for more than a few days at a time. she liked to hope that his brief absences were because he disliked leaving her for too long. when sukuna returned, he was like a predator satiated from the hunt – more at ease, prone to teasing and sending her into a shy fluster. she realized quickly that he was still as he had been when he was a boy; always acting upon his desires and impulses without a shred of restraint.

although, sukuna kept her well away from any glimpse of that side of him.

she was relieved to be spared from it. even though she had accepted his nature, she was far more content to remain his tether to a calmer side, always ready to pull him back into the peaceful river of soothing milk and honey that was her company. yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was all she would ever be to him.

she had to wait three years for the winds of romance to finally shift.

the day after her eighteenth birthday, sukuna began leaving things for her to find.

sometimes the gifts were small, such as delicate hairpins, vibrant silks, or rare fruits from distant lands. they would enjoy the fruits together, her laughter filling the room as she watched him scowl at their unfamiliar taste. other times, the gifts were more extravagant: a retinue of handmaidens to attend to her every need, opulent jūnihitoe crafted by the best artisans, the emperor’s most exquisite jewelry, and the rarest art.

but perhaps the most precious gift of all was his poetry.

she didn’t know why she had assumed sukuna had no taste for poetry. after all, he had ensured she studied it, and seemed to enjoy listening to her recite it. she had thought it was to encourage her to uphold the traditions of noble women studying the arts, to refine herself as a proper lady. given his impulsive nature, she merely thought he lacked the time and patience to write his own poems.

but oh, how he had a way with words.

it wasn’t in the more traditional styles she was used to reading, but it was uniquely sukuna’s. he was never one to follow the rules anyways. they had started off expressing the calming joy he felt in her company, with gentle musings about her being like a light summer rain or the soft morning glow of the sun. those early verses were lighthearted, designed to make her heart flutter with silly little butterflies.

and now?

now they could make her heart melt into a puddle of its own blood, making her body run hot with feverish, burning emotions.

with every poem she read, warmth would spread through her cheeks and chest, her bones shaking from the intensity of it all. it embarrassed her how obviously and hopelessly in love she felt. sukuna, however, was completely unruffled, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched her stumble over her words.

“any particular reason why you have that stupid smile on your face?” he’d tease, ostentatiously chewing on a piece of fruit.

she looked away petulantly, a slight pout forming on her lips. “stop it, ryo!”

it was blatantly obvious he savored this.

how could he possibly expect her to act normally around him after reading something like that? these poems were a gateway to his soul, a window straight through his eyes and into his heart. she could hardly contain herself any longer, and it was almost cruel that sukuna was keeping her in suspense for even a moment longer.

but did sukuna even want marriage?

he never liked being bound to anything, always pursuing whatever he desired whenever he wanted to. perhaps he wanted the benefits of courting her without ever becoming tied to her. she wasn’t sure if she could ever accept the idea of being his concubine. after all they had been through, it would crush her soul.

they were taking a stroll together in the gardens after one of her lessons, but the air was tense. sukuna stood unusually close to her, completely silent as they moved together, stopping occasionally and waiting as she admired certain flowers blooming. she tried hard not to be too flustered, and attempted to diffuse the palpable tension between them by talking about all sorts of things.

“oh, ryo! don't you think this flower is gorgeous?”

“hmm, yes. quite.”

“the weather is so pleasant for this time of year, isn't it?”

“yes it is.”

“look, the koi! aren’t they pretty?”

“for fish, sure.”

she gave up after that last attempt. it was obvious she wasn't going to get much out of sukuna today in terms of conversation – he seemed completely and utterly wound up.

they stopped underneath the shade of a tree, and she gracefully tucked in the layers of her clothes beneath her before sitting down. sukuna stood pensively beside the tree, his side profile solemn as he clenched and unclenched his fists. his movements were slow, methodical, almost like it was the only thing grounding him in that moment.

and then, in a flash, he was crouched right in front of her.

“i have something to say,” he announced, his voice like stone.

she swallowed thickly. “then say it.”

sukuna exhaled, and she heard the sound of his knuckles cracking and snapping before he continued, “i recognize that we two are… different in many ways. i have been bound to you from the moment i first laid eyes on you, and i will forever be yours.” – a sharp inhale followed by a shaky exhale – “however, while i may accept this, i understand that you might not outside the ties of marriage.”

this is it.

“you are the one good thing about my soul,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a vulnerable softness that shook her to her core. “please, say you will accept me?”

she didn’t hesitate for even a moment.

“i have always been yours, ryo, and i always will be.”

༺ ✤ ༻

love was infinite.

it transcended time and space, indifferent to who it dragged into its otherworldly domain, filled to the brim with whiteness and the saccharine scent of roses.

being ryomen sukuna’s wife meant crossing that threshold into another world, one that he had forced to turn into the brightest shade of red. his love was ferocious, nearly crippling in its intensity. loving him meant baring her heart to him, exposed and vulnerable, ready for him to consume it completely. he was a deprived man who had finally been given the key to her soul, and now he was able to come through and show her how deep his love for her coursed through in his veins.

“i want to bury myself into your skin,” he murmured into her ear, his arms wrapped around her bare body. “and settle into the spaces between your ribs.”

and yet, sukuna was tender too.

he would crave the moments of quiet, when it was just the two of them, whispering in the dark about how much she meant to him. wherever they were, a part of him was always touching her – whether it was his head on her shoulder as they sat in the garden, or pulling her onto his lap during her lessons. all the while, his eyes were memorising every little thing she did; the way she laughed, how she breathed, and every different sound and expression she made.

sukuna was immensely proud to be her husband, always devoted to providing for and protecting her.

she never wanted for a single thing.

and yet, he was still larger than life, a force of strife and bloodlust.

she knew what sort of reputation he had, that he was something of a living legend. there was no doubt that history would remember his name, spitting on it and sending shivers down people's spines at the mere mention of it.

“the king of curses,” uraume revealed to her one day, a hint of pride in her voice. “that is what the sorcerers call him.”

and that title did not come without a challenge.

on an unassuming autumn morning, sukuna abruptly interrupted one of her lessons. “i must go,” he said abruptly, clutching his trident like a god of old, a hint of glee in his words. “the fushigawa clan must be brought to heel.”

and heel they must have.

for when he returned, sukuna's face had split into two, with a mouth comfortably situated at his midriff. she knew then that unspeakable atrocities must have been committed, because her husband’s body did not evolve unless he had killed and sinned in the most horrific ways possible.

sukuna averted his gaze from her, his skin drenched in blood that was not his own. `'you cannot love me like this."

“and yet,” she whispered, standing on her toes and cupping his bloodied cheekbones. “i still do.”

she had never expected his true nature to change once they were married. to deny it was to deny him – and his love for her. as long as he kept her far from the sight of it, what more could she ask for?

in those moments, it was easy to forget how quickly darkness could overwhelm a fire.

the twilight moon cast a gentle light as a pleasant breeze wafted through the air, brushing against her cheek in a tender caress. it was one of those quiet, soft evenings, where the world slowed down just enough for husband and wife to savor each other’s company. they sat by the koi pond, watching as the silk ribbons of gold and white fins traced elegant patterns in the water. sukuna’s head rested on her lap, a pair of his eyes closed, as she gently stroked his hair.

nothing was out of the ordinary.

save for the strange man with starlight hair strolling towards them.

her husband sat up, and they both turned to watch the man approach them. the stranger carried the aura of a man assured in his own destiny, radiating confidence in the self-righteousness of the path he was on. when he lifted his head and met her gaze, she couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his eyes, which held a beauty that well surpassed even that of the heavens above.

she knew then that this was no normal man.

“you were stupid to come here,” sukuna huffed, barely sparing the man a glance as he helped her to her feet. “i prefer not to kill in front of my wife.”

“and yet, you will die all the same,” the man retorted, his hand glowing with a threatening iridescent aquamarine light.

boom!

there was a deafening thunderclap, followed by the loud creaking and crashing of tumbling wood. before she could blink again, she found herself somewhere far from their home, surrounded by trees and nature that seemed to stretch for miles. her husband’s expression was calm, a perfectly still lake amidst the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions inside her.

sukuna softly touched her cheek. “this will all be over soon, my love.”

he pressed a tender kiss to her brow.

don’t leave me, please.

and then, he was gone.

a strong fear settled in the pit of her stomach amidst the eerie silence. she flinched each time the sky lit up in hues of red and blue, once with purple, and she could have sworn that she heard the sound of her husband’s untamed glee carried on the wind. every rustle of the trees set her teeth on edge, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as the coldness of the night began to settle in.

snap!

she whirled around.

another stranger emerged, this time with hair as black as the night. shadows pooled beneath his feet, ominous snarling and snapping noises of hounds coming from its depths. with a sharp gesture, the man hushed and silenced the shadows, and the hounds ceased to be. he tilted his head curiously at her, as if he couldn’t fathom why she was here alone in this place.

but what struck her about him were his eyes — they were as green as the forests in the mountains.

it made her strangely homesick.

“my husband will never stop hunting you for this,” she finally said coolly, despite the terror coursing in her blood.

“you think that terrifies me?” he scoffed, instantly shattering the image of warmth she thought he had. “no matter what, history will forever remember as the sorcerers who brought the king of curses to his knees.”

a silver blade gleamed wickedly as the man grinned maliciously.

“meanwhile, you are irrelevant.”

she didn't say a word, understanding all to well what was about to happen and why.

would death be kind?

she shook her head, turning away from the man and looking up at the crimson twilight sky, unwilling to face the man or the cruel blade that was to be her end.

(a drop of blood in a firestorm, a scream of agony)

it doesn’t matter, so long as sukuna cannot feel it.

༺ ✤ ༻

death was abysmally cruel.

ryomen sukuna once believed that it would have given him the sweet relief he always craved deep down – something that would have finally extinguished the ceaseless fire blazing in his veins. it was a release he had always longed for, yearned for, and thought he had always been ready for.

especially when the curse, kenjaku, found him suffering amidst the wreckage of his vengeful rampage for the love that had been stolen from him.

“you had your chance, once,” the curse purred, his forehead stitches starkly contrasting with the pallor of the body he had taken. “but you knew that already.”

no, death had hurt him beyond measure.

it was a hailstorm of ice and sleet, beating down at him, surely dousing his fire, but so very slowly. even though his memory now was hazy at the best of times, he would always remember that pain. how he smashed and ground his teeth together, silent as stone as kenjaku worked to preserve his essence into every one of his fingers, because he refused to cry again.

all sukuna could remember was pain.

and her.

he would always remember her – the pain of loving her, and the pain of losing her.

and how he cried for the first and last time when he saw her crumpled body lying there in that forest. how he wanted nothing more than to hold her bones in his arms for the rest of time, to die right there and then with her, and let their skeletons be burned into ash together.

love had made him sick with desire, with hate, with yearning.

it terrified him.

because ryomen sukuna did not like to feel.

he then swore to himself that he would never repeat his mistakes. love was never to be touched again, and he would burn the world before it had the chance to hurt him once more.

and finally, here sukuna was, reborn and made anew, ready to enact that vow.

only, he hadn’t planned on being stuck inside this miserable, pretentious annoying brat.

no matter, this isn’t permanent.

“how you feelin there, yuji?” asked satoru gojo in an irritatingly perky voice.

sukuna’s vessel rubbed his chest tentatively. “i guess it kinda hurts a litt- ow! okay, never mind, it hurts a lot.”

satoru smiled. “well, lucky for you, i know someone who can help with that.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath. oh, how he wanted to rip the smirk right off his face.

first, i’ll tear you–

a light laugh trickled in from just outside the door.

sukuna froze.

he knew that laugh.

the brat turned around, and through him, ryomen sukuna saw what he had thought he lost a millennium ago.

for a moment, there was nothing but white noise.

sukuna was entranced, captivated by the way her lips moved, the graceful way her figure leaned against the doorframe, and how every single feature of her face had remained unchanged and untouched despite all the time that had passed.

is this some sort of joke?

“ok yuji,” she said warmly, a kind smile on her face as she placed a hand on his chest. “this won’t hurt a bit.”

sukuna felt the ghost of her hand touching his own skin, familiar and warm, and he gripped his throne of bones tightly.

yuji frowned. “will it hurt you?”

“oh no, don’t worry about me. i can absorb as much physical pain as i want without feeling any of it myself.”

“that’s so cool! but, do you really not feel anything at all?”

she bit her lip, an ancient sadness in her young eyes. “well… sometimes i go blind for a while, and all i can see is the color red.”

“what? hell no, what if you go blind because of me? no way.”

yuji shied away from her touch, and she reached out to grasp his hand.

“no, i promise i won’t!” she practically begged. “please. yuji. i–something happens when i go blind, like something is trying to show me what’s missing inside me, and i need to find out what it is.”

so, you don’t remember a thing.

sukuna leaned forward, bones crunching beneath him.

“okay…” his vessel answered, apprehension and concern woven into his tone.

she smiled gratefully.

i think i understand what you were to me after all this time, my love.

༺ ✤ ༻

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[barnacles34]

Beautiful Relationship

Tags: Romance, Sex, soft Ryujin, she likes books, male reader

The foggy weather clung to my skin like a second layer, a damp embrace that blurred the edges of the world around me as I stepped out of the condo. Each step felt light, almost floating, buoyed by the strange clarity that had settled over me. The condo itself—where I had just experienced something raw, something deeper than anything I’d known—felt miles away already, even though Ryujin's presence was still etched into my senses. Her face buried in a book, she had waved lazily from the large leather couch as I left, a gentle smile on her lips, a silent reassurance that lingered in the back of my mind.

The streets outside were nearly empty, a ghostly contrast to the usual bustling of Seoul. It was the kind of solitude I had long craved, the quiet that comes after the rain when the air smells of wet earth and fresh grass, mingling with the faint, distant scent of exhaust and city life. The kind of quiet where thoughts can breathe, where the world's noise feels muted, and the only sound is the gentle patter of raindrops on pavement. I inhaled deeply, feeling a strange contentment in the cool, misty air—a sensation that was somehow both calming and electric.

Enough of the background setting drivel. My mind snapped back to the task at hand as I drove toward Samsen HQ, the cityscape slipping by in a blur of gray and silver. The receptionists at the front desk were visibly surprised at my unexpected arrival. I saw them exchange glances, a flicker of confusion passing over their faces before they snapped back into their polished smiles. I had been absent from the office for a few days—unusual for me, and certainly enough to stir the quiet currents of office politics that always buzzed beneath the surface. There was always a game being played here, even if you sat at the top.

The days of absence had been deliberate, of course, a move calculated to keep the lesser sharks on their toes, to stoke the fires of intrigue among those who thought they could outmaneuver me. Let them wonder, let them speculate—it kept them busy and distracted. To be honest, the supposed mind games were more of an ego trip than any real threat. These pretenders held barely any power to undermine me. They were nuisances at best, and any one of them could be removed with a single call. The irony was almost amusing. I had the president’s number on speed dial, and yet these people acted as if they could orchestrate my downfall with hushed whispers in the hallways.

“Viva la Seoul!” I muttered to myself, a half-smile playing on my lips as I navigated the labyrinthine corridors of corporate life. The place had always fascinated me, with its paradoxes and its hypocrisies, its cutthroat maneuvering, and its strange, almost poetic absurdities. The Nietzschean interns who would debase themselves for a fraction of my hourly wage, desperate for approval or advancement. The older managers, balding and paunchy, somehow managing to crawl up the ladder faster than those who had dedicated themselves to optimal efficiency and health.

Was I evil for thriving in this environment? Was there something fundamentally wrong with finding beauty in these contradictions, in relishing the dance of corporate warfare? The thought amused me more than it should have. Maybe it was the fact that my entire existence was built around these principles, these axioms of survival. Maybe that was why I found it so hard to believe that anyone else could see the world any differently.

But then there was Ryujin, the outlier, the anomaly that challenged everything I thought I knew. She was proof that there was another way, that life didn’t have to be a series of calculated moves, that it could be something more—a mix of spontaneity and sincerity, without pretense or strategy. She was the exception to the rule, enough to make me question the very foundations of my beliefs, to make me wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a different way to play the game.

The danger she posed was undeniable—she could unravel me, expose me to vulnerabilities I hadn’t known existed. And yet, the benefits she offered were so much more profound, so much more intrinsic. With her, everything seemed more vivid, more real. The same conversations I’d grown to hate with others—talks of relationships, the future—felt fresh and exciting with her, filled with possibility and promise.

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the knock at my door, the sharp rap that pulled me back into the present. My new secretary entered without waiting for a response, a young woman with bright eyes and a sharp tongue, one of the few I hadn’t hired for her looks or her connections but for her brains and her grit. She had been foisted on me by my so-called equals, who thought I needed someone to keep me in check. They didn’t realize that I’d turned her into an asset, someone who could see through the corporate fog almost as well as I could.

“Sir!” she burst out, a hint of panic in her voice. “A rival competitor has just published an article about your recent absence. And they’ve announced a new home appliance chain aimed directly at Samsen’s market.”

I felt a slow smile creep across my face. “Good,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Let them make their moves.”

It was showtime. The familiar thrill of the game flooded through me, sharpening my senses, focusing my mind. The room seemed to hum with a new energy, the fog outside thickening as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

I liked the unpredictability, the dance of strategy and counter-strategy. I could already imagine the maneuvers that would follow, the ripple effects of this new announcement, the way I would turn this challenge into an opportunity. In the end, it was all just another move on the board, another chance to prove that I was still the master of this game.

But even as I prepared to dive back into the fray, my thoughts drifted back to Ryujin. Her face, her smile, the way she made everything seem a little less bleak, a little less calculated. She was the only unknown variable, the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. And maybe that was why I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even now, with the scent of competition in the air and the thrill of the fight ahead.

“Alright,” I said, snapping back to the moment, my voice calm but firm. “Let’s see what they’ve got.”

The secretary nodded, turning to leave, but not before casting a quick, curious glance over her shoulder. I didn’t mind. Let them wonder. Let them speculate. They had no idea what was coming next. Neither did I, but for once, that uncertainty felt like an advantage.

—--

After a whole day’s worth of intrigue, the outside felt damper than before with the slight tint of the night on the sky. The executive cars quickly pulling away to their respective areas after Samsen closed in a new historic high on the stock market. Greene’s power laws were accurate, accurate in their vagueness, in what constitutes as a power play, a masterful case of deception, and it just so happens that I have internalized it. 

Crooked? Maybe. 

The drive back home felt even fresher, unburdened by the rush of being down on the market, and burdened by the smell fresh of the damp grass, the damp streets with my windows all the way down. Pedestrians drew their phones, seeking to record the person that seemingly sways the national politics wherever he went. 

I promise you this is not an ego play, I really do control the national politics, but the magnitude of power also brings about the same magnitude of the potential to fail. But I’m used to that, my years of training, being down millions, multiple millions have utterly destroyed whatever the fuck part of brain controls my ability to discern risk. People don’t know how leveraged I am on the stocks, how leveraged to the fucking tits I am, my entire multi-billion fortune rests on the slight percent nudges of the hour, the minute, the second. 

That’s what drives me, performance adapts to what you expect and prepare for. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for the public, The government is readily available to bail me out in the billions.

Finally, I pull into the parking lot. I anticipate what I might see when I enter the condo, excited for the possibilities and excited for whatever the singular possibility might be. Will I see my hot girlfriend splayed onto the armchair, with only a tight-knit sweater dress on? 

The smell of vanilla wafted in the air as I approached the condo. As I approached, I was about to input the code into the door but it just opened with the touch of my fingers. And I saw Ryujin standing there, in a tasteful pajama set with loafers waiting at the door.

“Did you really read books all day?” I asked.

“Sometimes these days are warranted.” And hugged me below my shoulders, it’s always a spectacle to feel how small a kpop idol truly is, not that I have experience with them, it’s just that Ryujin feels small. I held her waist as I slowly entered, as she slowly moved backwards.

“Did you eat?” She asked, stepping away so that I could take off my shoes. 

“No, I just wanted to be home early.”

“Aww, you must be tired,” Ryujin said softly, stepping back to give me space as I entered. She glanced at the table, where dinner was already laid out, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes about her care.

I looked at the meal, then back at her, a small nod of acknowledgment passing between us. “You didn’t have to wait,” I said, my voice steady, though the hint of gratitude was unmistakable.

She shrugged slightly, her hands finding their way into her pockets, a gesture of both nonchalance and shyness. “I wanted to. Besides, I wasn’t really hungry until you got here.”

I raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Convenient.”

Ryujin met my gaze briefly, then looked away, a subtle flush creeping up her neck. “Yeah, well… I figured you’d be starving after today.”

I walked over to the table, pulling out a chair for her. “Sit,” I said, more as a gentle command than a request. She hesitated for a split second before complying, her movements almost tentative as she took the seat.

I settled into the chair across from her, the space between us charged with an energy that was still new, still unfolding. There was a comfort in the silence that hung in the air, a kind of unspoken understanding that neither of us felt the need to fill with words.

“Did you make this?” I asked, gesturing to the food, though the answer was already clear.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft. “I hope it’s okay.”

I nodded, picking up my chopsticks. “It’s more than okay.”

We started eating, the clinking of chopsticks against bowls the only sound for a while. I could feel Ryujin’s eyes on me from time to time, as if she was trying to gauge something, but she didn’t say anything. I let the quiet stretch on, content to let the moment linger.

Eventually, she broke the silence, her voice low, almost as if she wasn’t sure whether to speak. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

I didn’t look up right away, taking a moment to finish my bite before responding. “Yeah?”

She shifted in her seat, her fingers fidgeting slightly with her chopsticks. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

I placed my chopsticks down, meeting her gaze with a steadiness that I hoped would reassure her. “You’re not. We’re figuring it out.”

Her lips curved into a small, uncertain smile, and she nodded. “I guess I just… I want to be what you need.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying her for a moment before replying. “You already are. But this isn’t just about what I need.”

Ryujin’s eyes flickered with something—relief, maybe?—but she didn’t say anything, just nodded again, as if she was absorbing my words.

Our dinner ended in satisfaction, and plates were washed under our melodic humming. And the area of our participation changed, onto the couch.

The room was dim, the glow from the TV casting shifting patterns of light and shadow around us. "Twin Peaks" flickered on the screen, the eerie opening score filling the quiet. Ryujin leaned into me, her body fitting neatly against my side, one arm draped over my stomach.

I tightened my hold around her, my hand resting firmly on her waist. She sighed softly, a small, content sound, her eyes fixed on the screen but her body melting further into mine.

“You like this show?” she asked quietly, almost as if testing the waters.

“I do,” I replied, my thumb rubbing gentle circles on her hip. “It’s got that strange charm”

She chuckled under her breath, a sound that sent a warm hum through me. “Kind of like you, then.”

I smirked. “Maybe. But you don’t seem to mind.”

She shook her head, nestling closer, her hand moving slightly against my shirt. “No… I don’t.”

I could feel her pulse, a steady beat beneath my palm, her head resting on my shoulder, her breaths syncing with mine. She was so quiet, so small in these moments, her usual boldness softened by the closeness between us.

Without a word, I shifted, pulling her fully into my lap. She let out a surprised breath, looking up at me with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked, though there was no real protest in her tone.

“Getting comfortable,” I replied simply, guiding her so her legs draped over mine. “Is that a problem?”

She shook her head, a slight blush creeping up her neck. “No… it’s fine.”

We settled again, her hands resting lightly on my chest, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. I covered them with mine, holding her in place. Her cheeks flushed deeper, and I could feel the way her heartbeat quickened just slightly under my touch.

We watched in silence for a while, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her back. Ryujin shifted now and then, as if finding new ways to fold herself into me, her body instinctively seeking more contact.

The sound of Agent Cooper’s voice drifted through the room, but I was more aware of her—the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the way her fingers occasionally twitched against my shirt, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure how.

“Do you think they’ll solve the mystery?” she asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I think it’s less about the mystery,” I said, my tone low, “and more about how it pulls everyone together… or apart.”

Ryujin nodded slowly, her eyes still on mine, her thumb brushing over my hand. “Kind of like us,” she murmured, almost absently.

I chuckled softly, leaning down until our foreheads almost touched. “Are you saying I’m a mystery?”

She bit her lip, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe… but one I don’t mind trying to solve.”

I smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “Good. I like keeping you guessing.”

She laughed, the sound soft and genuine, and then snuggled deeper into my hold, her head resting just under my chin. Her fingers found mine, and she gave a light squeeze, her body relaxing completely against me.

And there, in the flickering light of the TV, we stayed close, without the need for any more words.

A dim warmth spread through my body, a quiet satisfaction as Ryujin nestled into me, her legs folded beneath her. Her soft breaths were steady, rhythmic, her chest rising and falling in a comforting cadence. The episode of "Twin Peaks" ended, but our embrace didn’t. The TV hummed faintly, the credits rolling into a quiet, glowing blue, and yet neither of us moved, content to linger in this stillness.

Her fingers traced over my hands, studying them in the dim light, her thumb brushing against the calluses. “How did your hands get so rough? Did you fight every day or something?” she asked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“After training, yeah,” I replied, a small smile forming as I remembered. “I used to be part of an underground fight ring. It was fucking crazy… I still don’t know why I joined. It was full of middle-aged losers, and we’d just beat each other up, badly, almost every day.”

Ryujin's laughter bubbled up, a sound both amused and surprised. “What the hell? Seriously? Was the owner some big 'Fight Club' fan or something?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “But there was this weird nostalgic element to it… getting stitches almost on a daily basis, feeling like I was constantly on the edge.”

Her laughter faded into a more thoughtful expression, her brow furrowing slightly as she massaged my hands, now resting on her lap. She slowly turned on my lap, shifting until she was facing me, her gaze searching my face with a mix of amusement and concern. “Gosh. What would you do without me? Look at these scars, and how rough your hands are! How did your face not get nicked?”

I smirked. “Oh, it got nicked. Plenty of times, at first. But a teenager learns pretty quickly among a bunch of 40-year-olds. By the end, no one really wanted to fight me.”

Her eyes softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she continued to trace the lines of my scars. “Sounds like a mix of ego and insanity,” she teased, but there was an underlying tenderness in her tone.

I leaned back, letting her study me, feeling the weight of her gaze on my skin. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But it made me who I am, for better or worse.”

Ryujin shook her head, still smiling, and then leaned in, pressing her forehead to mine. “You're a little crazy, you know that?”

“Is that a compliment?” I asked, my voice low, teasing.

She laughed softly. “It’s an observation. But… yeah, I guess it is. You pretend like you don’t need anyone, but here you are, with me, letting me hold you like this.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, her words sinking in deeper than I’d expected. I tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. “Maybe you just have a way of breaking through,” I said, brushing my thumb over her cheek.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she settled closer, her hands resting on my shoulders now, her body melting into mine as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Maybe… or maybe you just needed someone to see you,” she whispered, her voice soft but certain.

I didn’t reply right away, just let my fingers move to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as I held her close. I felt her relax, her body going pliant against me, and there was a peace in that moment, something that felt unspoken but deeply understood. 

A slow movement between each other occurred, and a slow kiss formed out of it all. A passionate, an unendingly lovely kiss, a kiss that could only be shared by two lovers. I reached deeper, my head moving forward deeper into the kiss, trying to get more out of Ryujin, her taste, her beauty. I slowly stood up, with her still on my body, I held her up with my arms around her waist while still sharing a passionate kiss. 

How could a girl be this lovely? Holy shit.

I quickly plant her on the leather couch, a black luxury couch too expensive for a single man, but a perfect frame for the most beautiful girl in the world. She laid on the couch, motioning for me to join her, in laying, in loving. The next seconds were a haze, the warmth of a kiss being shared, her soft bosom pressed up against me, The warmth shared by two bodies aggressively pressing each other to get more out of each other.

My left hand went from her waist to her breast, gripping firmly against the soft of her clothes, the soft of her breast. She mewled in my mouth, taking quick breaths trying to continue the kiss as long as possible, unbearably aroused by my body.

I quickly pulled away, she was irritated, I quickly took off my button-up, more like ripping it apart, buttons everywhere. That didn’t matter at all, we quickly continued our session, she softly rubbed her hands all over my back as I kissed into her. 

Then, clothes flew off each moment, and a kiss shared in each layer, and a mess on the floor. Her creamy-white skin caved at my touch, the slight ripple of her semi-abs visible as I greedily took more of her. Finally, her bra came off, the perfectly pink nipples were visible, and completely rigid. The kiss transitioned as my mouth traced over her body down to her breast.

I sucked lightly, fingering at her other nipple. Her loud moans and body ripples only inspired greater performance, I felt a slight tug when I felt her fingers around my hair and she seemed to be moaning louder.

I nibbled at her nipple, kissed the white skin around the nipple, which compressed at the slightest touch. It was almost heaven, a girl who gave me her virginity, a girl who is witty, smart, and loving. 

After enough teasing of her nipples, she began to be more reactive, perhaps signalling that it’s turned into pain rather than pleasure. So I stopped, caressing the pads of my fingers along her body, her curves, her identity, all the way down to her thighs where my thumbs hooked on her panties that were damp. 

“You must be excited.” I teased.

“Ah… please I’m so wet, you kept teasing my nipples you bastar- Ah!” I slipped a finger inside her, interrupting her, amusing myself in her arousal.

I took the finger out, it glistened even in the warm light.

“Open your mouth.” I demanded.

She complied, with her mouth open, I inserted the glistening finger inside her, “Tastes good?”.

“So Gooth-.” She replied with my finger still in her mouth. A slight vibration, a fiercely erotic sign, a sign that she was so stimulated that her body was vibrating as a coping mechanism after realizing other ways of coping with it were futile. 

I took out the finger out of her tender, warm mouth, with a trace of saliva still on my finger, I slowly tracked down her body, the shine of her saliva following suit, the rise of her breasts, the drop to her ribs, the softness of her belly no, abdomen, it would be an insult to call it a belly, it was the perfect midriff. The quiver getting more intense as the tip of my finger slowly approaching her pussy.

I pulled off my hands off her body quickly, and hastily set to pull off my belt; suddenly, Ryujin laid her hands on my belt, showing that she wanted to take it off, that she wanted to see my cock entirely of her own volition. Slowly, making sure that whenever her hands were not occupied with taking off my belt and undergarments, she grazed my abdomen with her fingers any chance that she got. She was kneeled on the couch, crouched over, I was kneeled up straight, and she took her time enjoying the rare opportunity to tease me.

She was entirely naked, and I got to see her back, her beautiful back, one that was crafted through sheer divination by the lords above, there was absolutely no other way to achieve that back, the hourglass shape of her waist and the curve of her hip bones, lord almighty.

I traced the lines of her back with my hands as she finally got down my underwear. Whilst I busied myself with her breasts, now that it was hanging, it was even softer, even more beautiful and absolute euphoria to handle.

A firm grasp disrupted my vivid imagination. “Are you gonna keep teasing my breasts, is it that lovely?” she said with a laugh, slightly firmer on the cloth that barely hid my erection. “Is underwear like this even practical? It looks like it’s a camp site!” Somehow she found some humor in this situation, most likely embarrassed about giving me fellatio. 

Of course, I know the cure. I grasped her hair tightly, the hair that has been diligently grown, perfect to grab tightly and insist on what actions you want. She obliged in the pull, her legs completely folded in obedience, and obliging in the slight pulls and pushes of my hand. 

“Too hard?” I asked.

“I don’t even know why you have to ask.” She replied, with a bright flush in her cheeks, knowing that she likes it and that I know it.

“You’re gonna suck my cock, and you’ll do it diligently; and you’ll get fucked into this couch.”

“Ye- Yes.. please Koji.” She submitted with speech.

I swiftly pulled out my erection, and I leaned into the railing of the couch, inviting Ryujin over. She moved closer, still kneeling, still crouched, and slowly approached my erection. She breathed deeply, getting closer to my dick, and started to stroke it with her hand. The soft coldness of her hands confirmed my suspicion, she was so nervous that all the heat went to her torso, “you don’t have to be so nervous, baby.” She smiled at the remark, and immediately took my dick in her mouth.

She learned so quickly, it was unbelievable, what a virtuoso. She sucked on my length, going halfway with an incredible suction. The pleasure was intense, a sensation of sucking was strong, and I would peak too quickly to enjoy her body. 

“My muse, aren’t you learning a little bit too fast?” I said with a chuckle, gritting my teeth against the pleasure.

She released, still very close to the tip, “it’s so delicious that I had no choice but to learn, and it seems it paid off.” Yes it has, but of course there’s an opposing force every force. Before she could continue sucking me off, I pushed her onto the couch. 

“Should I make you cum in one stroke?” I asked, fully intending to do.

“You wish.” Scoffing at my threat. “I was a virgin then-”

I quickly placed pressure just at the edge of the pubis bone, then the other hand traced the outer lips of her pink pussy. Her solid determination was nearly broken at that moment, a hand placed on her lower abdomen pressing into her was getting her off so well.

And it was a technique that only got more arousing the more it was used. She was a goddess personified and I was disgracing her by almost getting her to cum with light presses and pressure. The fingers that traced the outer lips of her pussy slowly converged on her clit hood, applying almost a graze over it, each graze getting a sizzling inhale from Ryujin. 

“Ah~ fuck, I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come!”

I immediately took off my hands, and I stared at her. “Wha- What are you doing? I was so close.” I didn’t reply, I swung my left hand against her hip bone, a firm slap, as close as you could get to her ass in missionary. 

She yelped, and I covered her mouth with a firm grip, “it would be a disgrace for you cum on my fingers, and even less so without me penetrating you at all.” I leaned into her with a hand still on her mouth, leaving enough room for her to breathe through her nose. I was still quite above her to let her see me entering her, she looked down, as I slowly pressed my member at the heat, prodding, then slowly entering. When I saw that she was not looking down and when she was trying to deal with the pleasure, I quickly took the hand off her mouth and pulled her head forward to make her look as I entered inside. Each inch pain-stakingly slow and purposeful, she stared with pleasure ablaze.

“Princess. I am the only one who understands you.”

That was it, that was the moment she lost it. I immediately entered to the hilt, then pulled out. She spasmed at the intensity, squirting all over the leather couch, screaming and moaning at the pleasure. “Oh my fucking god!” She placed a hand over her head to recover.

The latter minutes were spent with a more furious kind of love, an intense love.

A manner in which I fucked her, with love and embrace. I held her in missionary position, grasping the nape of her neck, sharing our mouths as I repeatedly and fully drew inside her fully. The motions bringing the deep moans of pleasure out in the form of vibrations in her body, and mewls of her mouth.

She loved giving up control in intercourse, it was something that brought her pleasure to no end. To know that she was not in control of her orgasm nor mine, that any second I could pull away and let her mewl in anticipation, and suffer right under the eclipse of her orgasm. However, she loved it more when we shared our arousal, in this position, she could kiss my shoulder, kiss my jaw, caress my back, and even massage my shoulders. Of course, she engaged in these sorts of affection, she couldn’t control it and I could never resist it. The deeper I went, the more her moan hummed against my jaw when she kissed it.

Sometimes I pulled off to maintain eye contact with her, noticing the twists in her eyebrows, the whiskered dimples of her cheeks as she was drawn to climax again. This time though, her legs locked me inside her, she knew that it would take multiple orgasms for her to get me to eclipse, she acknowledged it and was fully intent on it. Of course, the significant height and weight difference didn’t allow Ryujin to maintain much control at all. Instead of the leg lock, I swiftly kneeled up while my dick was still inside her, while she stared expectantly. 

I seized her legs, right above my shoulders, “Oh not again!” She definitely remembered the first time I did this. Then I lowered myself to kiss her, her legs were now placed next to her ears.

“I feel this is my obligation, to train your flexibility.” Still punishing her cunt with my deep strokes inside her

“Oh please-ah! Yo- You just want to fuck my brains out!” She was right.

 I still held her legs as the way they were, but I wanted a fuller picture, a picture where I saw Ryujin enjoying herself to the fullest. I observed the strokes, her cunt glossy with her arousal, I wanted her to enjoy it even more.

From then and there, I placed my hand on the place of her pubis bone, compressing the canal that anticipated my strokes, and a slight thumbing on her clit.

One, euphora

Two, amazing

Three, orgasm

She came again, this time she was allowed no movement, my hands acted as braces that held her down, and she vibrated in pleasure.

She tightened even further, her moans became more guttural as the added pleasures of my hands began to feel more like punishment.

I chuckled, she was such an angel. I released my hands, the hands thus landed on the breasts, the warm pliable breasts with very noticeable aroused nipples.

I had been pumping so quickly and hadn’t realized that I was getting close, I was enjoying her mewls and moans so much that I realized that I might cum this instant. Despite the fact that I finally bought condoms because I kept cumming inside her, I forgot to use it. 

Trying to resist pulling out of Ryujin’s pussy was impossible, it wasn’t ‘almost impossible’ it was plain and simply impossible. And Ryujin definitely felt the twitch my cock, “Please Please Cum inside me! Do it inside me~!”

Finally, I pumped into her one two three times and fell onto her as I filled her with my seed.

“I might actually get pregnant at this rate” she chuckled with her hands getting tangled in my hair

“I don’t even fucking care anymore” I breathed by her side, ear-to-ear.

“Would you like that? A little Koji running around?” She asked.

“I don’t know, what about you?” Genuinely curious about her opinion.

“I think it’s cute to see a little Koji running around, a little Koji that has a happier childhood.”

“I love you” I kissed her lips.

She murmured something against my lips, most likely “I love you” too.

The warmth of the embrace lingered as we finally moved from the couch. The night had drawn on, but the intimacy between us only grew stronger. Ryujin stood up, her hand slipping into mine, and without a word, she led me towards the bathroom.

The bathroom light flickered on, casting a soft glow across the tiles. The shower was already running, steam curling up and filling the small space with a comforting heat. Ryujin turned to me, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and something deeper. She reached up, gently tugging at my hand.

Soon, the warmth of the steam wrapped around us both.

We stepped into the shower together, the hot water cascading over our bodies, washing away the day. Ryujin reached for the soap, her hands lathering it up before gently running it over my chest. Her touch was soft, methodical, as if she was memorizing every inch of me. I closed my eyes, leaning into the sensation, the warmth of her hands, the soothing pressure as she worked the soap across my skin.

I returned the favor, my hands moving slowly, carefully, over her shoulders, down her back, the water rinsing away the suds in gentle streams. She sighed, a sound of pure contentment, as I massaged the tension from her muscles, taking my time, savoring the closeness.

When she turned to face me, her eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. I cupped her face in my hands, letting the water pour over us, and she leaned into my touch, her own hands resting on my waist. For a moment, we just stood there, water pouring over us, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling in the steam-filled air.

Finally, I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips—slow, lingering, full of the unspoken things between us. She kissed me back, her hands moving up to tangle in my wet hair, holding me close.

When the kiss broke, we both smiled, a small, shared moment of understanding. I reached for the shower’s knob, turning off the water, the sudden silence almost startling. Ryujin didn’t let go, though. Instead, she wrapped herself around me, resting her head on my chest as the last of the water dripped off us.

“I want to take a bath,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost shy.

I smiled, pressing another kiss to her damp hair. “Let’s do it.”

We stepped out of the shower, toweling off quickly before I started the bath, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. Ryujin watched me, her eyes following my every movement, a small smile playing on her lips. Once the tub was filled, she sank into it with a sigh, the hot water enveloping her.

I settled on a chair that directly faced ryujin still with a towel draped over my lap, watching as she leaned back, closing her eyes, her face relaxing completely. The room was filled with the soft sounds of water lapping against her skin, the scent of lavender from the bath salts mixing with the steam.

“Join me?” she asked, opening her eyes just a sliver, looking up at me with a hopeful expression.

“Don’t even try” I chuckled at the previous time she asked for me to join her in the bath.

With her nestled against the edge of the tub, I reached for the book I had left on the counter, opening it to where we had left off. It was an old copy of "Anna Karenina," the pages slightly yellowed, the spine well-worn from countless readings.

Ryujin sighed contentedly as I began to read aloud, my voice low, resonating in the quiet intimacy of the bathroom.

“‘All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow,’” I read, my fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on my lap. The words seemed to echo in the room, intertwining with the stillness around us. “‘In seeking happiness for others, we find it in ourselves.’”

Ryujin tilted her head back slightly, her eyes closed, her body fully relaxed against mine. “I love hearing you read,” she whispered, her voice almost drowned out by the water, but I caught it, and it warmed me from the inside out.

I continued reading, my voice steady, letting the words flow through the air, wrapping around us both. “‘But every one of these men, straightway from the first minute of their meeting, was seized by an unwonted feeling of respect, as though they had met with something sacred, and in consequence every word and gesture of hers seemed to them more important and significant than they had ever been before.’”

Ryujin’s fingers played idly with mine beneath the water, her thumb brushing against my knuckles as she listened. The words from the book mixed with the rhythm of our breathing, with the warmth of the water and the quiet that enveloped us.

As I read on, the story of Anna Karenina unfolding in the soft light, I could feel Ryujin’s heartbeat, slow and steady, matching mine. The romance of the scene in the book felt distant compared to the reality of her in my arms, this intimate moment we were sharing.

Eventually, I let the book rest on the edge of the tub, my voice trailing off as I pressed a kiss to her damp shoulder. “You know,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her skin, “this might be better than any book.”

She turned slightly in the water, looking up at me with a playful smile. “Only might be?”

I chuckled, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deep, letting the warmth of the bath and the softness of her lips consume me. “Definitely better,” I corrected softly against her mouth.

Ryujin smiled, a content, sleepy smile, and nuzzled back against my chest. We stayed like that for a while, the water gradually cooling around us, but neither of us was in a hurry to move. The book lay forgotten on the edge of the tub as we simply enjoyed the closeness, the feeling of being utterly connected in this quiet, private world we had created together.

P.S: I have the whole prequel ready but the writing quality is a lot worse than this but its 20k words of setup, comment below if you want it.

[rcsewcrld]

Hi Rose! I’ve just found your profile and saw you’re accepting requests so here you go:

Poly!wolfstar or poly!marauders where reader is completely in love with them but thinks they don’t like her back. When they confess their love for her she doesn’t believe because she thinks that what they have is already perfect and she doesn’t have a place in it. It takes them a lot of effort to make her believe it. Lots of angst with happy ending

really? || poly!wolfstar x fem!reader | 1.5k words

a/n: hi so this is very cliche and possibly very bad bc i’m very out of practice so i hope you appreciate that and i hope that this is what you wanted. i promise my writing will get better once i get back into the swing of things! also, thank you very much for requesting and i’m so sorry i took so long, something came up but that’s slowing down now so i’m back to it! also i’m really sorry it’s not very angsty but i just wasn’t in that frame of mind i’m so so so so sorry :(

content: as gn as possible but some fem hints in there sorry (im just too used to it :((), minimal use of y/n and pronouns, also bridgerton reference guys😭

“S’wrong, darling?” James queried at your spaced out expression during breakfast in the Great Hall. 

You shrug, “Dunno, James.” The bespectacled boy furrowed his brows but was soon distracted by something Peter was showing him on his other side. You did, in fact, know what was wrong. The two boys sitting opposite you were the bane of your existence this morning. They were also the object of your desires.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Best friends of 6, coming up to 7 years and boyfriends of 3 months. The most painful, yearning, pining 3 months of your life. The relationship between you, Sirius and Remus had always been ambiguous between the lines of platonic and romantic, but one fateful morning Sirius and Remus walked towards you in the corridor, holding hands and exuding a sickeningly sweet air of love.

“Earth to Y/n/n… you okay, sweetness?” Dark grey eyes locked with yours, pairing with the saccharine nickname you couldn’t help but smile dreamily at him. 

“Mhm,” you mumbled, “M’fine, Siri.”

“Good. Couldn’t have you spaced out like this all day,” he furrowed his dark eyebrows, “would never get through Potions if I didn’t have my lovely partner to talk to.” He finished with a wink that almost had you melting into a puddle on the stone floor. Peter and James shared a look at your, somewhat pathetic, lovesickness. 

“Ready to go then? Lessons start in 5 minutes.” Remus interrupted the charged gazing between you and Sirius.

“Of course you’d be the one to make us prudishly early, Moons.” Sirius stood up alongside Remus, clapping him on the back harshly as they started to walk off, followed closely by you, James and Peter.

“5 minutes is not prudishly early, Pads…”

———

“Ms Y/L/N, daydreaming again?” Slughorn’s voice broke you out of your stare. Your task today was to brew a successful amortentia potion. Sirius, eager as ever to discover the smell of what he loves, bounded up to the storage cupboard to collect all your ingredients. Also, something about ‘What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady lift a finger under my watch?’

“Sorry, professor. Sirius is getting all the equipment so I just zoned out for a moment. Won’t happen again.” You visibly straightened up and put on your best apologetic voice, because you really weren’t sorry at all. You had been ogling Sirius. His shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of smooth, pale skin, his shirt tightening slightly at his arms where his lean muscles were bulging slightly with the strain of stretching. He was visibly far less built-up than someone such as James who was nothing short of stocky, but being a beater still took lots of arm power.

As Professor Slughorn migrated back to his desk, Sirius came back over to your workbench, albeit, more carefully than he left it, as he was now carrying an abundance of supplies ready to begin brewing.

“Siri, y’know I could’ve helped you?” 

“Don’t sweat it, love.” He brushed it off.  

You began brewing the potion and it was going smoothly. (As much as Sirius tried his hardest to be a nuisance in class, he’d never purposefully sabotage you)

A pop from across the classroom made you a jump a little and averted your’s and Sirius’ attentions to James and Remus on the other side of the room. Remus was scoffing and rolling his eyes as James’ face was covered in soot, hair standing up on end. 

“Poor Moony.” You tutted, focusing back on your own potion. Originally, Remus had been partners with Lily, no complaints, perfect work, until Slughorn decided that James and Peter being a pairing was far too chaotic and forced Remus and Lily to re-partner, to quell the chaos caused by James and Peter’s pairing.

“He’ll be alright.” Sirius chuckled as you sprinkled the final ingredient into the brew.

You watched as the potion turned a pinkish colour and turned to Sirius with a pleased smile, “It worked!” He held his hand up for a high five that you quickly returned. 

“Ready to take a whiff, Black? Y/L/N?” Slughorn said as he approached your workbench. You both nodded and Sirius pushed you forward. The entire class had gone quiet, attention on your bench. You took a deep breath in over the cauldron.

First, cigarettes, and a deep, musky aftershave that was awfully familiar.

After a few moments it morphed into the scent of a crackling fireplace, new books and… chocolate.

“So? What do you smell?” Slughorn queried.

You broke out of your trance, glancing around the classroom at all of the pairs of eyes staring at you, awaiting an answer, specifically Sirius and Remus. The two people you had definitely just smelled, “Uh, um- I smelled,” You didn’t know whether to lie or not, “um, flowers?”

James snorted a laugh from across the room, quickly shutting up after a harsh elbow to the ribs from Remus.

“Care to elaborate?” Slughorn raised a questioning eyebrow. You shook your head vehemently and stepped back towards Sirius’ chest, who hurriedly took your place, eager to smell the potion.

“Books… chocolate,” Sirius paused to wink at Remus who glared at him, embarrassed, “…and, vanilla?”

Your eyes widened at that and you sucked in a very audible sharp breath, reminded of the vanilla perfume that you apply rather generously every morning. Sirius locked eyes with Remus across the room, sharing a look that meant We’ll talk later.

Slughorn clapped his hands to diffuse the awkward tension and called on Barty Crouch Jr’s workbench.

———

“Marls, I can’t just tell them I like them. I don’t wanna impose on what they already have together…” You huffed, pulling your knees up to your chest. Marlene wandered over from her bed and sat down next to you.

“Babe, I love you, but you are so oblivious.” She lamented.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“She really has no idea does she…?” Lily sighed from her bed.

“Those two boys are hopelessly in love with you, Y/N. And if you can’t see that then you are oblivious. Sirius’ amortentia smelled like you and Remus. The boy he’s already in a relationship with.”

“That could’ve been anyone’s vanilla perfume.” You shrugged, certain that the boys couldn’t want you in any way.

Lily rolled her eyes, “Tell them, Y/N.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth anxiously but nodded in agreement, “Wish me luck, girls.”

You trudged down the stairs to the common room, head low and anxiety swarming your brain.

“What’re you doing down here so late, darling?” 

You jumped at the voice, not expecting anyone to be occupying the common room at such a late hour. You looked up to find just the two boys you were looking for… Sirius splayed dramatically (somehow) in an armchair and Remus curled up into the corner of a couch.

“Oh, hi guys…”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, dovey!” Remus feigned offence and caused you to roll your eyes. You don’t know why you were so nervous. These guys were your best friends. Even if they rejected you they’d never stop wanting to be friends with you. Remus patted the space on the sofa next to him, indicating you to sit there and you obliged.

“Actually, I’ll have you know I was looking for you two.” 

“Oh, really?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

Here goes nothing.

“I like you guys. Like in the not friendly way. And I totally get if you don’t feel the same way and don’t want me to join you guys, ‘cause I don’t even know if you’re into that, but I just wanted to tell you because it’s been eating me up inside-“

“Shut up.”

“Sirius!” Remus scolded, smacking his boyfriend on the arm with the book he was holding. You remained silent, eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to mask your sadness with confusion. Slowly, you began to stand up, ready to make a run for it.

Abruptly, Sirius exclaimed, “Where are you going?

“You told me to shut up.”

“Oh yeah, that…”

“Dovey, he’s just shocked, that’s all. We feel the same way, see?” Remus comforted

“I can’t believe you didn’t bloody know we fancied you!” Sirius sat up straighter and pulled you from Remus’ side to sit on his lap, causing you to flush.

“Wait, you really like me?”

“Yes.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes.”

“Like, actually?”

“Yes.”

“And this isn’t a prank?”

“No.”

“So James and Peter aren’t hiding around a corner ready to throw treacle and feathers on me right now?”

“No.”

“And you really, actually, truly like me?”

“*Yes*!”

“Bloody hell, woman!” Sirius smashed his lips onto yours, leaving you breathless as you relax into his embrace, threading your hands through his hair before you pull apart.

“Is that enough evidence for you, sweetheart?” Remus grins as you nod, albeit hesitantly.

“Look at me. Sirius Black. Not only is he dating the fittest boy in Hogwarts, bar himself, of course, but he’s now dating the fittest girl!”

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius’ antics.

“Wait, so we’re dating now?”

“Yes! Christ almighty…”

[childrenofcain-if]

legend say moles are where your lover had kissed you the most in your past life! how would the RO’s feel about an MC who says that softly and kisses them where their moles are? (eg: under their lip, on their hand) (i have a mole on my shoulder blade so i find that an adorable concept!!!)

C LACROIX

the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and something faintly metallic, the kind of scent that lingered just before a storm. C’s face, sharp and unforgiving, was tilted slightly toward the heavens, as if they could challenge the gods themselves to a duel. there was something tragic in the way they stood, their shoulders rigid with the weight of an expectation they could never quite escape, their posture a careful construction meant to keep the world at bay.

you had seen them like this before—brooding, simmering with an anger too vast to contain. they were always a contradiction, a child dressed in the trappings of a young adult, lost between the glory of their lineage and the wreckage of their own shortcomings. and now, as you approached, their eyes flickered with something close to desperation, though they would never let it fully manifest.

you noticed it first, the small, dark mole at the edge of their collarbone, just where their skin dipped into the hollow above their chest. it was a mark you hadn’t seen before, but the sight of it held your attention. a story your grandmother had once told you flickered at the edge of your memory, and before you knew it, the words were spilling from your lips.

“legend says moles are where your lover kissed you the most in your past life,” you say as a form of greeting, your voice low, like a secret meant only for C. your breath fanned against their skin, warm and soft, and you felt them tense, just slightly, beside you.

C’s transfers their gaze to you, like they were waking from a dream, and they looked at you with something you couldn’t quite name—something tender, and maybe a little afraid. their lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. instead, they just watched you, their gaze dark and searching, as if they were trying to decipher a language they didn’t know they spoke. the winter wind tried to creep into the thickness of their overcoat, but they didn’t even bother tightening it up.

without breaking eye contact, you raise your hand to pull the neckline of their long-sleeve sweater down. your lips lean in to meet their exposed collarbone, to that tiny, insignificant mark that suddenly felt like the center of the universe. you kissed it gently, reverently, as if it were a sacred thing. the moment your lips touched their skin, you felt them shudder, a breath escaping them like a sigh, like the release of something they hadn’t known they were holding on to.

the silence between you grew heavier, thick with the weight of things unspoken, things that had always been there but never acknowledged. at least not since the night of their confession. but there you were, hidden away from the rest of the campus, in a world where only you and C existed.

C’s hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, their touch achingly tender, as if you were something fragile, something precious. they pulled you closer, their forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, you just breathed together, your hearts beating in sync, the world forgotten.

“is that true?” they murmured, their voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the darkness. “about the moles?”

you smiled, a small, secretive smile that they couldn’t see but could feel. “maybe,” you whispered back, your lips brushing against theirs as you spoke. “i like to think so.”

C didn’t respond with words. instead, they tilted their head slightly, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as soft and tentative as the one you had just given them. it was a kiss that held no demands, no expectations—just the simple, undeniable truth that, in this moment, you were theirs, and they were yours.

and when you finally pulled back, you saw it in the pale green of their eyes—the way they softened, the way the walls they kept so carefully constructed seemed to crumble all over again. they didn’t say it, didn’t have to, but you knew. knew that in this life, in every life, you had been marked by them, and they by you.

V NÆSHOLM

the chapel was quiet, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you had to hold your breath, like any sound might shatter the stillness. the dim light from the stained glass windows cast kaleidoscope shadows on the stone floor, coloring the cold gray with muted reds and blues. V was sitting in one of the back pews, their head bowed slightly, fingers clasped loosely around the small cross that always seemed to be in their hands. you wondered how long they had been there, lost in whatever prayer they whispered to the man on the cross.

you slid into the pew beside them, careful not to disturb the silence. V didn’t look at you, but you could feel the tension in their body, a tight coil of worry or doubt or something else entirely. it was strange, seeing them like this—so still, so pensive. you had always known V to be composed, always in control, but here, in this sacred space, it was like they were unraveling thread by thread.

your gaze drifted to the small mole just under their lip, barely noticeable unless you were close enough to see the details of their face. it was a mark you had never really thought about, but tonight, it drew you in, a tiny speck on the otherwise perfect canvas of their bronze skin.

“do you know what they say about moles?” you whispered, leaning closer, your voice a soft murmur that barely disturbed the air between you. V’s head tilted slightly, acknowledging you, but they didn’t speak, waiting for you to continue. “they say they’re where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.”

V blinked, their fingers tightening on the edges of the bench as if it could anchor them. “is that so?” their voice was soft, almost hesitant, like they weren’t sure what to make of what you’d just said.

“yeah,” you breathed, your words coming out on a sigh, and without really thinking, you leaned in and kissed the mole beneath their lip, your mouth barely brushing their skin. the gesture was simple, almost chaste, but it felt like it held the weight of a thousand promises.

V’s reaction was immediate but subtle—their breath caught, their hand trembling slightly as it moved to your arm, not to push you away, but to hold on. their eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, it was like the world stopped, like the silence in the chapel was no longer oppressive, but comforting, like a warm blanket wrapped around the both of you.

when they finally opened their eyes, there was something new in them, something soft and raw and maybe a little bit terrified.

“you shouldn’t… you shouldn’t do that,” they murmured, but there was no conviction in their voice, just a tremor that gave them away.

“why not?” you asked, your lips hovering near theirs, the question more a breath than a sound. “maybe it’s true.”

V’s grip on your arm tightened, and they looked away, their gaze fixed on the altar as if searching for answers in the flickering candlelight. “because…” they trailed off, their voice breaking, and you could see the conflict in them, the way their stony faith warred with something deeper, something more human. “because it makes it harder to... keep away from temptation.”

you smiled softly, a smile that V could feel more than see. “maybe purity isn’t about keeping away from temptation,” you whispered, your words brushing their lips like a prayer. “maybe it’s about knowing what’s worth giving in to.”

V didn’t reply, but the way they leaned back in to kiss you in that moment—hesitant, tender, as if they were afraid you might disappear—told you everything you needed to know. and when they finally pulled back, there was a tear slipping down their cheek, catching the light like a drop of liquid silver. you wiped it away with your thumb, and for the first time, V let you see them, all of them, without the shield of their faith or their fear.

and in that moment, you knew—this was a feeling that had been written into the stars long before you had names to give it.

W OSTENDORF

the night air was cool, drifting in through the half-open window, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. you and W were lying on the old, worn-out sofa in their suite, the one that creaked whenever someone moved too suddenly, but right now, everything was still. the room was dark, save for the dim light of a solitary lamp that cast long shadows across the walls.

W’s head was resting against the back of the sofa, their eyes half-closed, their features softened by the quiet of the evening. There was something about the way the light played across their face, catching on the angular line of their jaw and the delicate curve of their pink lips, that made them seem almost ethereal. you noticed it then, just below the curve of their jaw, a small mole nestled in the hollow of their neck.

the words came to you unbidden, a soft murmur in the stillness. “legend says moles are where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.”

W’s eyes flickered open at the sound of your voice, a small crease forming between their brows. for a moment, they said nothing, just looked at you with that intense, sapphire gaze that always made you feel like they were seeing right through you. there was a weight to their silence, something sacred, and you wondered if you had overstepped, if maybe this was too much, too soon.

but then W’s expression softened, the tension in their features melting away like snow under the sun. they tilted their head slightly, giving you better access to that small, dark spot on their skin, their breath hitching ever so slightly as you leaned in closer.

you pressed your lips to the mole, a kiss so soft it was barely there, but you felt the way W’s body responded, the way their hand held the back of your neck, as if grounding themself in the reality of your touch. the scent of their skin—faintly citric, with a hint of something darker and richer, like a strong cup of earl grey—filled your senses, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to just this, just you and W, and the space between you.

when you pulled back, you could see the way their chest rose and fell a little faster than before, could hear the slight unsteadiness in their breath. W’s eyes fluttered closed again, but this time, there was something different in their expression—something vulnerable, something raw, that they’d never let anyone see but you.

“do you believe in that?” W asked quietly, their voice low and rough around the edges, like they were speaking through a dream.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice just as soft. “but i like the idea.”

W didn’t say anything for a long moment, their thumb tracing absent patterns on your skin, a slow, rhythmic motion that was oddly comforting. and then, just as you were beginning to think they wouldn’t respond, they spoke again, their voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

“if that’s true,” they murmured, “then i must have fallen for you in every lifetime. in every timeline. in every universe.”

you leaned in and kissed the mole again, a slow, lingering press of your lips against their skin. “then you’ll have to keep loving me for a thousand more lifetimes,” you whispered, the words a soft promise against their neck.

W let out a breath they’d been holding, their eyes opening to meet yours, and in their gaze, you saw something that felt familiar. it was the same exact gaze they had thrown at you when you were six, when you had defended them against a playground bully and promised them you’d always be there for them.

the realisation of it would hit you like a truck then—W has been in love with you for the better part of their entire life. it didn’t matter how many times you were both reborn, it didn’t matter where you were reincarnated, it didn’t matter how many times you’d remade the introductions; W would fall in love with you every single time.

D DIACONU

the night was alive with the thrum of distant music and the low murmur of conversations bleeding through the walls. the party was in full swing somewhere beyond the closed door and into the opposite suite. but here, in the dimly lit bedroom, everything felt suspended in time. D leaned back against the bed’s headboard, the half-smirk playing on their lips softened by the shadows that draped across the lines of their jaw.

you were perched on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel the heat radiating off their skin, but not touching. D’s eyes, a metallic shade of gray that seemed to shift colors with every flicker of the low lava lamp, were fixed on you, intense but playful, as if they were daring you to make the next move.

you noticed the mole just beneath their collarbone, proudly visible as they had discarded their t-shirt prior to welcoming you in their dorm room. it was small, easy to miss if you weren’t looking closely, but now that you’d seen it, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

the words spilled out before you could stop them, your voice a low murmur in the intimate silence. “i heard that moles are where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.”

D grinned widely, a flash of white teeth against the paleness of their skin. they tilted their head slightly, amusement dancing in their eyes as they watched you, waiting to see where you were going with this.

“is that right? well, lucky me then,” they teased, but their bravado faded when you leaned in and kissed the mole softly. it felt like a branding iron against their skin, scorching and almost painful.

D’s breath stuttered, a slight choking sound that betrayed the storm inside them. for a moment, they were caught in a whirlpool of emotions, fear and longing mingling in a way that feels too intense, too fucking real. they didn’t know what to do with this feeling, this surge of something that threatened to drown them. their heart pounded loudly in their chest, each beat a reminder of how terrifyingly alive they were feeling in that moment.

they wanted to pull away, to retreat into the safety of their walls that they’d worked so hard to build, but they can’t. your touch was magnetic, drawing them in like the metal which shared the same color as their eyes; even as every instinct screamed at them to run. they stared at you, as if trying to understand the significance of that small, intimate gesture. trying to understand why did you even do it.

“that... that was the wrong thing to do,” D breathed out, their voice rough with an effort to push you away emotionally. “you’re playing with fire.”

but you didn’t pull back. instead, you smiled softly, your hand finding its way to D’s cheek, tilting their head just enough to meet your gaze.

“maybe i like the heat.” you replied, your voice is steady and reassuring. “maybe i don’t mind being burned.”

but there’s also a challenge in your eyes, alongside an understanding of the battle that raged within them.

D felt the tension in their chest tighten, the fear of opening up their heart again clashing with the undeniable truth that they wanted you. needed you.

they swallowed hard, feeling the way that their heart was racing, how it was skipping all the beats it shouldn’t be. this was dangerous, they knew it, but they were too far gone to pull back now.

you leaned in again, pressing another kiss to their collarbone, lingering just a moment longer this time before travelling up to their neck. D closed their eyes, trying to anchor themself, trying to make sense of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm them. but they are being pulled in the currents of you, and for the first time, they weren’t sure if they wanted to be saved.

M WHITLOCK-SINGH

the library was a sanctuary for the thinkers, the poets, and the dreamers. it was where the only light came from the dimly flickering lamps and the soft glow of a dying sunset filtering through the stained glass windows. shelves rose like ancient trees, their spines a forest of forgotten stories, a testament to the weight of knowledge held within the four walls. dust motes drifted lazily in the air, suspended like tiny stars in the darkening room.

M stood by one of the tall windows, half-hidden in the twilight. the pale, cool light reflected on their tawny face like a heavenly mirage. their fingers rested on a leather-bound volume they had not yet opened, their attention instead on the gathering dusk outside. in the moment, they were a figure caught between the worlds of the living and the dead, as if they were both here and somewhere far from what normal folks would imagine.

you stepped into the room, making a beeline for them after you spotted them. your footsteps were almost soundless against the polished wood floor, but M sensed your presence immediately. there was a subtle shift in the air, a tension that wasn’t there before, and M’s hand tightened slightly on the book’s spine.

their eyes, a shade of deep umber, flickered toward your direction, curiosity mingled with the faintest hint of unease. M had always been told they are the very definition of posh, and they had worked hard to maintain that image—detached, reserved, a perfect balance of manners, decorum and intellect. but here, in the presence of you, that carefully constructed persona began to shift again, like the earth preparing for a quake.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. the only sound is the distant rustle of pages turning, the soft creak of the old wooden shelves as they settled into the silence. your eyes glanced over the tome they’d been holding, and your lips quirked up in a knowing smile.

“there’s a legend in that book that says moles are where your lover kissed you the most in your past life,” you whispered, your voice low and full of secrecy. there was also a softness to the words, a kind of gentle magic that made them feel lighter, more significant.

your gaze fell to the small mole just beneath M’s lip, and without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing against the spot with a tender reverence.

M gasped, a sharp intake of breath that betrayed the calm exterior they were known for. the touch was electric, sending a shiver down their spine, and for a brief moment, M is unprecedentedly unmoored.

they’d been kissed before, of course, but not like this. not with such purpose, not with a whisper that seemed to echo in all the chambers of their heart. they felt the weight of your words fully, as if they were touching something beyond the physical—a connection that transcends time and place.

“M…” your voice was a soft breath against their skin, and you pressed another kiss to the same spot, lingering a fraction longer this time. there was a sweetness to it, a kind of innocent affection that was almost unbearable in its swooning simplicity.

M’s hands trembled slightly, and they reached out, almost hesitantly, to touch your arm. their fingers brushed against the fabric of your sleeve, and for a moment, they just stood there, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of your body so close to theirs.

they didn’t know what to say, how to respond to such tenderness, such unguarded affection. they’d been trained to command, to lead, but here, they felt utterly lost, and good god, they didn’t want to find their way out of this labyrinth.

“don’t do this to me,” M whispered, but there was no real warning in their voice, only a soft, aching plea. “you know this can’t happen. we can’t happen.”

they were pleading for mercy, an admission that they were not as strong as they have always pretended to be. your hand came up to cradle M’s face, your thumb brushing gently against their cheek.

“whatever happens, we’ll get through it,” you whispered, your voice a balm to M’s doubtful heart. “i’m here for you no matter what.”

you placed one final kiss on the mole beneath their lip, and M felt something inside them break free—a dam that had held back months of longing, of wanting to be seen, to be loved not for who they are, but for the person behind all the titles.

M’s eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, they met your gaze without the shield of their usual poise. there’s a question in their eyes, unspoken but clear: can you really love me for who i am, with all my flaws, all my fears? for all that i am and all that i am not?

and in your beaming smile, they found their answer.

[passivenovember]

Steve's never tried a weed brownie before.

Hasn't really wanted to, if he's honest, because the rag-weed shit he gets from Tommy all throughout high school is fine. Even though it's mostly shake and stems and seeds, and the bag Tommy puts it in always looks like it's been mauled by Scotty, his 15 year old schnauzer.

It has to be the same bag, Steve thinks, but maybe that's the 20 minute high talking.

So he's never tried a brownie.

But. Billy Hargrove comes into his life like a storm cloud. Black and gray with impending doom, snagging the air around him with little fish weights until everything is heavy. At first.

But. Then Steve makes him laugh once during a game of shirts and skins, and. It's like the belly of the thing has ripped open, y'know, and the streets of the thing flood with rainwater, and all that existed before is washed down some swallowing, insatiable gutter along with mulch and twigs and the shaky belief that Steve's straight.

They're friends and Steve watches Billy laugh and smile, feels all ten fingers against his chest when Billy shoves him, some sort of atomical reaction to Steve making him laugh, and.

Steve can't believe he ever thought Heaven was in Nancy Wheeler's pants.

--

So.

Billy Hargrove is the Earth after the flood, and the ark carrying everyone to safety. He's the animals inside and the God that sits, watching the world swallow itself.

He feeds things, to Steve.

Lines. You got a really pretty mouth, Harrington. You're smart, you know that? Not. Book smart, but street smart. Dirt road intelligent, I guess, in this shitty fuckin' Hickville hellscape--

Feeds Steve art. That's Samuel Baruch. He's my favorite. Look how he paints cloth, how he tracks the divets and the folds and the shadows. It's like a photo. It's like a window--

Steve makes Billy laugh when he says, "That lady kind of looks like you." Feels all ten fingers on his arm, pushing, when he says, "You'd look cute in a bonnet." Steve nearly falls over. Almost goes easy, but he doesn't.

Billy grabs him. Holds him as he smirks, "Where the fuck would I find a bonnet?"

Steve looks around the art hall, eyes wide and owlish, "Indiana?" He says, out there. In here. And.

Billy stares at him. He's the canvas and the lady in her bonnet, the divets and the folds and the shadows, the artist himself when he wets his thumb and sticks it in Steve's ear. "Dumbass," He says.

Steve finally gets everyone's thing about art.

He snaps a mental image of the afternoon and tries not to smother it in his hands.

--

So.

Steve. His eyes open, bit by bit. And what he finds is blinding. Like he fell asleep in the back of his mother's station wagon and awoke to the screaming light of high noon.

Billy's like the sun, longer Steve knows him. Storm clouds be damned.

Like. He talks about art. And he feeds lines and compliments for shits and giggles, never really noticing that Steve falls for it, a dumb catfish stuck on Billy's sharp, unforgiving hook.

He does all that but he smokes. Weed and cigarettes. He drinks.

He takes Steve to parties and says, "Ever try this before, Bambi?" But it's just Jack Daniels. But. Billy leaning with his elbow on the wall next to Steve's neck, close enough that he can smell Billy's sweat and cologne. He's smiling and his lips are cherry red, rio red, and.

He wants to roll in it.

So. He says, "No," Because, "I haven't."

It's the truth.

So Billy feeds it to him right out of the bottle. Makes him get on his knees. Slaps Steve's wrists away when he tries to hold the vessel himself, because.

Something's happening. Here. There.

Steve stares up at Billy through his eyelashes, trying not to go blind.

--

He blacks out and wakes up in the face of some bitch in a red bikini.

He's still drunk, so it takes him longer than it should to realize she's a poster tacked to somebody's, and he's not at home, and someone's snoring on the rug next to him.

Steve wiggles his toes. Fingers. Tries to remember what happened after Billy's hair caught the dining room lamplight but it's all a blur of sea stone eyes and bright white teeth and all ten fingers, rubbing at him while he threw up under the four way stop on Douglas Street.

Steve groans.

He rolls onto his side and tucks into himself and falls asleep, hoping Billy got home okay.

--

It's silver when a warm, flat palm shakes him alive. "You gotta go," Someone says, their voice rough like flannel bed sheets.

Steve blinks up, into the silver light, and sees Billy. Considers padding from the mattress to sleep inside of Billy's throat, where he'll be warm. It's a familiar urge. It's entirely new.

Steve aches. "What time--"

"--Just before five. My dad gets up early for work," Billy says, like that's supposed to mean castles are crumbing in their kingdom, but he's staring at something on Steve' face.

Really puts things into perspective, because maybe it's supposed to be an emergency. The first wisps of smoke from a forest fire, but Billy has bed head. And pillow lines on his face. And he's looking at Steve like there's something stuck in his throat.

Steve rubs at himself, trying to clear exhaustion and embarrassment. Really, just rubbing it into himself like lotion. "It's Saturday." He says.

"We're poor," Billy tells him, "My dad--"

"Where am I?"

Billy stares at him for a moment and then chuckles, shaking his head, "With me," He mutters.

Steve wants to curl into it like a cat.

--

He's rushed out of the room. He has to climb through the window while Billy keeps watch like a guard dog, and Steve lands on his ankle funny so it isn't until later when he's showered and hung over and falling onto his own mattress that he realizes Billy was in a panic.

That was Billy panicking, like Steve gets when his dad tells him to clean his room before he gets home from work, but Steve was full of concrete and wouldn't do it. Just like that, but worse.

Steve tosses and turns and tries to decipher what there was to be panicked about. Billy's room was clean.

Not just clean but spotless, like someone took a billow pad soaked in bleach and scrubbed every wall and baseboard until nothing remained except that bitch in her red bikini.

The only witness to Steve crawling out through an open window.

--

The more he thinks about it the more it feels like an episode of The Twilight Zone.

He combs through the memory of waking up in Billy's room. He tries to piece together hazy, half-baked image of beige carpet and the bookshelf and the little makeshift vanity that housed all of Billy's hair products.

Steve searches for a spot of the boy he knows. He calls Samuel Baruch's name and hears it shatter against empty, maroon-colored walls and the bikini girl's airbrushed rack.

He tries to envision a wayward sock, left out in the cold. A cup of water on the bedside table. Used tissues on the bedsheets.

Anything.

Steve blinks around his own room and wonders if clutter is a luxury only afforded to boys in houses paid by Monday through Friday workweeks.

He tries to imagine Billy in that room inside the house on Cherry Lane, happy, sleeping until noon in his own boyhood nest while his father gets ready for work.

It sits heavy in Steve's chest. A fairytale.

--

So.

Billy asks him during homeroom on Monday if he's ever had a weed brownie. Really, he scribbles it on a note and has Mary Sandoval stick it under Steve's elbow on her way to the bathroom.

Steve presses the note open on his desk until it's delicately wrinkled, mulling the question over in his mind. He spent the weekend driving himself crazy trying to come up with a reason to invite Billy over, a nook to slip into so he can ask the hard questions.

This could be it.

Steve peeks over his shoulder, flushing pink when Billy wags his tongue.

He has a black eye.

Steve snaps like a piece of rotted driftwood. He turns back to the note and scribbles no, but I'll try one if you have it. Has Mary take it back with her.

Figures. Billy should see his room. Steve should open his eyes.

--

"Why does it smell like that?"

"Like what, pretty boy?"

"Like. Gasoline."

Billy tilts his head back, laughter shooting like fireworks against Steve's ceiling, "It's just the dope. It's how it smells when you bake it into the--"

"--I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"I just think brownies are supposed to smell like chocolate," Steve says, handing the bag over with a wrinkled nose, "It's not a very appetizing smell."

"It's just weed."

"Weed smells gross, too."

"You don't like weed?"

"No, I just--"

"--We don't have to do the edibles if you don't want--"

"--I want to," Steve tells him. "Please." Instead of I'd do anything you asked me to. You're the influence my grandma warned me about. You're the lighter and the cigarette and the smoke in my lungs. Getting me high.

Billy nods, "Since you asked so nicely," and severs the baggy, tearing the first brownie in half.

"Woah," Steve says, embarrassed, "I know I've never had one before but I think I can do more than half."

"They're strong."

"I'm strong too," Steve says. When Billy blinks at him, confused, Steve flexes.

The noise Billy makes is like a duck getting run over by a clown car. It reverberates off the walls and Steve aches to stand and chase it. "You can always start out small and take more if you need to, hot rod."

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "How strong are they?"

Billy shrugs, fiddling with the chewed plastic lip of the bag. "I kissed a boy on half," He says.

It's the first time since Billy came to town that he won't stretch to meet Steve's gaze.

Steve takes the bag from him and shoves the brownie into his mouth, coughing over the dry exterior.

"Easy, man, easy," Billy smacks him between the shoulder blades, grinning and rubbing his back once Steve swallows.

[kurokawaia]

❛ Clan Rules ❜

Hyuga Neji X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.3k + | TW/CW; fab!fem!Reader, just angst, ANGST!

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: can you write something with angst for neji hyuga? - @ipodic

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: She never imagined falling in love with with him... The rules of the Hyuga clan are rigid and unforgiving, especially for those who are not part of it.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list

The moon cast its silver light over the Hyuga clan training grounds, shadows from the trees playing around in the cool night breeze. In actual fact, I had been looking forward to seeing Neji since his return from some mission, but by the time I reached him, something told me that all was not right.

He stood alone in the clearing, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his head bent as though lost deep in thought. He seemed to bleed sharp definition, cornered off from everything that was around him. The sharp definition that seemed to etch out of his very being had dulled, replaced with heavy, subdued weariness. Where normally intense focus shone out of his eyes, now it was but a shadow.

"Neji?" I whispered, tinged with just a hint of concern. There was no answer; it hung there, in the heavy silence between us and could have been cut with a knife. Of course, Neji wasn't going to let me get away with just worrying for nothing. "Is everything okay?" I said, finally taking a step closer, my hand going out tentatively to lay on him.

He winced at the sound of my voice, almost as though it caused him physical pain. A moment it was before he looked up at me, and something in the bogged emotion that plastered his face into a stiff mask I couldn't place. Regret? Guilt? His words came out slow, as if he had to force them into existence.

"There is something I need to say," he finally began in a tightened voice; that is, he could barely breathe out the words. It was very clear that what he needed to say was going to be hard—for him and probably even more so for me.

And then I felt like a ton of bricks were falling into my stomach as I stepped forth, trying to look him in the eyes, but Neji just kept looking down on the ground.

"What's wrong?" I said again, my voice now shaking and slurred with this rising sense of dread. My skin grew cold—a cold washing over the night air and through me—some sort of pressure weighing down on me, squeezing at my heart.

Neji finally broke the silence, and his next words seemed to weight heavy enough that my very breathing hitched as he said, "we can never see each other again." My world seemed to tilt; the earth seemed to shift under my feet. I never thought he would say those words to me.

"Why? What happened?" I asked, my voice shaking in desperation. The Hyuga clan have their rules, but we were so cautious. We had our meetings tucked away, out of the way, always away from prying eyes of the clan; it had to be enough. I thought we were safe.

My eyes barely saw Neji slump his shoulders, but it was a battle in that gaze once he lifted them. A battle full of conflict and sorrow. "It's the clan," he said not politely, sorrow thick now and voice low. "They don't allow relationships with outsiders. If they find out, they'll punish us both. I can't let that happen to you."

My eyes welled up in an instant, the vision blurring. "Neji, we'll find a way," I said, reaching out my hand towards him as he walked back, putting in the sudden distance that seemed insurmountable. "And we'll be careful. We can—"

"No." He cut me off with the shake of his head. His voice was tight with urgency in his actions. "It's not that simple. The Main Branch watches over everyone. If they find out, they won't just punish me. They'll come after you. But I can't risk that."

Each of his words was like a hammer inside me, the kind that was driven into my heart. I knew he was right. But it was a truth I did not want to accept. And I took another step forward, reaching out to place my hand against his cheek. I needed that connection. Any connection in this moment between us. His body tensed, the muscles tightening under my touch, but he didn't pull away. "Neji, please," I continued, tears streaming openly now. "''We don't have to give up. There's always another way.''

He closed his eyes a moment and leaned into my embrace, like a man hoping to find reprieve, if only for a moment, from a burden too heavy to bear. But it was a short-lived reprieve, and he pulled away, leaving a vacuum where my hand was. It was there in his eyes, not hidden, the pain reaching out to bang relentlessly on my heart. "My fate is sealed," he'd say, full of regret, his voice heavy. "But I can't change it, no matter how much I might want to."

It felt like this crumbling world; somehow, the ground split beneath my feet, leaving a deep abyss dividing us. I wish to God I could bring him back, somehow bridge that unyielding rift, which even the Hyuga clans' laws set before us. Challenging them would be to risk everything we both cared about—yes, maybe even our lives.

"Neji, please don't go," I implored, my voice raw and splitting. The tears streamed down my cheeks, and my heart ached in desperation. I wanted to fight for him, for us, but what was the use? The iron grip of the Hyuga household control was too hard, and any defiance might rip consequences on the heads of us both.

He gazed back at me, charged with the same sadness and lament that expressed in my eyes. "I wish it didn't have to be like this," he had that soft voice, where every spoken word became an essence of goodbye. "I will always care about you, but I cannot stay; it's too dangerous." And then he turned and walked away. The steps echoed through the silent night, cutting into my heart with every echo.

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that we could fight this together, but his eyes told me it was useless. He wasn't just deciding; he was resigning himself to a life decided by others, his happiness cast aside to keep me safe.

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him we could fight this together, but the look in his eyes told me that would be pointless. He wasn't just making a choice; he was submitting himself to a life told by others, his happiness sacrificed on the altar of my safety.

"Neji," I whispered, fighting in my voice with the rust of leaves, "I just can't see my life without you." Every syllable seemed to be a plea, one for keeping from letting go what could not let through.

He stopped, a dark figure against the blue-gray glow of the moonset, and turned around over his shoulder to look back at me. There, in the silver brightness, I was able to see something shining forth from the pale eye—a glint of unshed tears. The scowl faded from his face, replaced by something more tender and reflective of the ache in my treated heart.

"Nor I," he admitted, the sound of his voice barely more than a thread in the darkness. All raw, vulnerable exposure, his admission bared depths of his own pain. "But you and I have to. It's the only way for me to keep you safe."

The moon cast a cold silvery hue over the empty training grounds, which would eventually play a role in the sensation of loneliness stealing over me.

So much I wanted to run after him, take him by the hand, and beg him not to leave, but nothing would alter.

It would only be worse for both of us.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list|naruto/borutom.list

[bengiyo]

Love Sea: Tongrak is Kind of an Asshole, and I Like It

I watched this yesterday with some friends, so my Stray Thoughts were a little scattered because we were talking about BL conventions, Thailand's tourism goals, and who MAME was. Now, with some time to think, I wanna talk about my favorite thing: Tongrak is a rich asshole. I love this for Fort and Peat.

He Looks Down on People Poorer Than Him

We open with Tongrak dressed inappropriately for his trip and the weather, whining on his phone, just to show his disdain for even being sent on this vacation.

Then when he first arrives on the island, he looks around at people enjoying themselves and a sign they dedicated to their home reading "Heaven on Earth" and immediately called it hell. This is these people's home! He is a guest! I deal with this show in my home city all the time. Be respectful!

Next, the first thing he does is start shouting at Mahasamut about the motorcycle and his luggage. He doesn't slow down to ask if Mut can speak the central dialect, or if there are alternative modes of transport. Instead he just screams at the man and then starts talking shit in front of him like he can't understand what is being said. I give Americans shit for doing this in other countries, and I give northerners shit for acting like they can't understand our accents down here along the Gulf.

He was rude about that bar, too. He went there for attention, and got pissed at the idea that people there might be into Mut more.tjsn him. He then stormed off without paying for his drink!

This man is so stubborn and petty that he literally just starts sending him thousands of baht instead of just asking him to speak in the same dialect as him. I'm totally with Mut on not speaking to him nicely until Tongrak did it first. What's so wild about this scene is that it's text that Rak is mad that his condescension is having no effect.

Mahasamut is Responding to Tongrak's Energy

Mut is just responding to what Rak is giving him, and is doing everyone a favor by bearing the brunt of this spoiled man's fits. He was even kind enough to let this man know right away that he could understand him.

The big thing for me is he can see when Rak is trying to get one over on him and turns that around. Rak tried to play like he had the upper hand sexually and felt played. He tried to play about being full and got played.

We see that the people of the island admire Tongrak, and he's involved in their lives. He's clearly playing a role here that Rak's friends hired him to play to help their cranky friend relax and finish his book.

I also like that Mut has made it clearly he is down to fuck with Rak whether he pays for it or not, because Rak is trying to hook up with someone for inspiration for his novel. I like that he removed the wealth component there, because it's clear Rak is used to throwing money at all of his problems.

Finally, Mut stopped immediately when he realized he'd actually scared and upset Rak. He doesn't actually want to hurt this man.

Why This Rocks for Peat and Fort

These two found a good rhythm in Love in the Air. They're good at this form of asymmetric bickering and flirtation. However, this time Peat gets to play the older, richer character. It's fun for me, because I think there's going to be a bunch of transference from LITA that covers how much of a jerk Rak is being to others.

I am glad that these two aren't reprising the same characters, and are being given a reasonable way to take advantage of their existing dynamic and tools. It's interesting that these guys can tap into similar beats without it feeling like the same characters.

On the Colorism

I see it, and it's there. However, I don't think MAME is an outlier in using it in her shows. There's a really rough sequence in Fish Upon The Sky (with Neo no less) that comes to mind immediately. I also just think that the skin tone stuff seems built in to a lot of the works we encounter (especially considering that some of these guys are literally brand ambassadors for skin lightening products or clinics). I think there's something to say about the way Mut is teasing Rak with a country bumpkin bit that could almost be read as race play, and there's maybe something to unpack there with far more nuance than I think we normally bring to BL.

But hey, while I have you here, now's a good time to say that if we want to tackle how race affects the queer experience, For The Boys is right there!

[mellifiedprincess]

it is very evident i wrote this in like 20 minutes. this one is pretty suggestive too and not as fluffy as my usual stuff. butttt look at this man, I CANNOT.

also this is as close to smut as i’ll get because ~no~

“I think you’re trying to kill the whole of your fan base, and me along with them.” You see the sly smirk grow on Chris’s unfairly attractive face.

He knew what he was doing. Worst part is, you can’t be mad at the kid because he did it so damn well.

“Now why would I ever wanna put the love of my life in harms way?” He was being serious yet still had an underlying tone of sarcasm.

You roll your eyes and dramatically shove your face into Chris’s pillow. “It’s not fair that people like you exist!” You yell into said pillow, though it’s mostly unintelligible from your muffled voice.

Moments ago you witnessed Chris take an annoyingly hot, without even trying, selfie. A lollipop placed on his tongue as he looked down at the camera. It was sinful how good he looked. And that fucker knew it.

“Baby, you are one of those people.” He argues back while laughing at how dramatic you’re being. He just doesn’t get it. His fans are going to go absolutely batshit crazy over that picture.

Of course you don’t even acknowledge anything he’s saying, too busy thinking about how it’s gonna be even harder for him to fight off screaming girls. “Have you ever considered getting surgery done to make yourself uglier?” The question falls from your lips and Chris just looks at you like you grew a second head. You were being dead serious.

“I think it would be very beneficial.” You state with the same serious tone as before. “For who?” Chris exclaims, his voice raising a few octaves from how confused he is.

“Well for one, every male on this planet. Like you’re kinda being selfish walking around with a face like that.” You sit up and throw your legs over his waist to straddle him, making him look up at you now. “Just think of how insecure they all must be. Knowing you’re just so effortlessly gorgeous, and they could never compare.” You sigh and gaze down at his lips, wanting to slap yourself for being so in love with a man.

“I don’t know if my ego can take much more baby. You’re making me feel really good about myself.” You offer a lovesick smile, before leaning down and planting a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s cute that you think I actually believe you’re worried about your ego.”

He giggles at your callout before he grabs your hands and brings them up to his lips.

Another sigh falls from your lips as you continue to admire your boyfriend’s face. Your eyes dance across his features, trying, and failing, to understand how you got so fucking lucky to be able to be here with him in this lifetime.

“I should start taking more pictures with lollipops if I’m gonna get this kind of attention from you.”

“I don’t know if my sanity could take any more.”

“We both know you can take it.” As your mouth falls open from the innuendo, that same sly smirk from earlier appears back on his face. You feel a blush spread across your cheeks and your hands instinctively reach up to cover them.

“Don’t get all shy on me now baby. You’ve been looking at me like I’m the last meal on earth since I took that picture.” Chris is sitting up now, his hands softly grabbing your wrist to pull your hands away from your face. When you look at him again, he’s staring at your lips, ready to smash his own against them.

The air in the room changes drastically. The once love struck awe you both held in your eyes, replaced with a look of lust.

“You gonna kiss me or just stare Chris?” Your voice comes out light, like you were scared to break out of this trance the two of you seemed to have shifted into.

Chris’s gaze flicks up to your eyes, before trailing back down to your lips.

And finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, his hand wraps lightly around your throat and he envelopes his lips with yours, and you felt like your skin was on fire.

You never thought you would be so fucking grateful for a lollipop in your life.

[milliesfishes]

please please please Millie can we have someting where Billy is watching reader being so good with children (and people in general, like, she's so sweet) and he's like "that's it. i'm leaving everything behind and making that woman my WIFE and the MOTHER OF MY CHILDREN" pls he'd be so enamoured with herrr ♥

ps: it's okay if you don't want to do it ♥ i love everything you do!

this is so cute plzz thank you anon <3 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭

Your presence was sunshine and rain, creating a wonder of nature's rarity. Everything about you shone so brightly that Billy wondered how the angels hadn't swept down long ago to claim you back as one of their own. Like ivy, you crawled over the walls of the hearts of everyone, enchanting them and planting your flower in the thorniest of gardens.

He was privileged beyond the wiles of men to be allowed to fall in love with you so completely. You consumed him, crept into every waking thought and every resting dream. Billy fancied himself a changeling around you, willing to morph into whatever you needed. Fortunately for him, you only wanted to be one thing: himself.

Proving he was the luckiest soul in existence, you sook his arms often, sheathing yourself in them. Gentle kisses and mountains of cuddles often ensued, as he requested you tell him about your day.

Wrinkling your nose adorably, you always said, "I haven't done anything terribly interesting today."

"Tell me anyways," he smiled, taking you by the waist and setting you atop his hips. You giggled, hands bracing on his knees behind you as you leaned back. His big hands found a place in the crease between your thigh and calf, thumbs rubbing your knees.

Of course you would give in, face lighting up in the way he always hoped it would. Truthfully, it wasn't the content of your day he was eager to hear, but the way you told it. You could breathe life into the most mundane of topics, his beautiful girl.

You were the silver lining to the storm cloud of his roughened life, worth beyond your weight in gold. The kind of face men went to war for and wrote poetry of love in wax sealed letters back to. And you were somehow his.

The ring looped on a ribbon and wrapped in a handkerchief stowed away in a place of safety had been yours from the first moment your lips touched his. It had been his beloved mother's, a token of her undying love that she'd passed on to him, telling him to keep it safe for a girl who kept his heart safe. You fit this description and exceeded it.

Though the life of an outlaw was hardly appropriate for such a beauty from the inside out, he found that he could hardly unglue himself from you. Forget water and air- he needed you. You were love in physical form, a skyful of stars bound beneath the skin of a woman. The earth in bloom, all that was good in this world. You were entrancing in every possible way, tied with a ribbon and edged in lace like an embroidered gift tailored to him.

Your utter sweetness never failed to swath him in joy. As of now, he had been packing his recent purchases in his saddlebags when you caught his eye as you always did, acting as his north star.

Surrounded by people as always, you were chattering excitedly, making big gestures with your hands. The eyes of those listening were alight with wonder, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight. Your very existence was captivating.

Then a little girl approached you, tugging on your skirt. You got to your knees so you were at her level, ignoring the dust that settled on your skirt. Shyly, the girl held out a handful of wild daisies to you.

Gasping, a hand flew to your heart as you accepted the gift, and you said something to her with a darling smile brightening your face. Plucking a daisy from your bunch, you tucked it behind the little girl's ear, much to her delight. She giggled and retreated back into the crowd.

Mesmerized, Billy leaned against his horse in a daze. Your pure natural sweet nature and love for the world and everything in it was inspiring. You were a rare patch of sunlight in life's darkness indeed, one that he'd been most fortunate to stumble upon.

Heralded by your divine presence, Billy's sense of time slowed. His surroundings blurred as his vision centered on you as the light at the end of the tunnel. He knew. He knew you were everything good in this life, that the very stars spelled your name in the heavens. He knew that after the tumultuous years on the run, you were the very best life would gift him. You were the very best anyone could be gifted.

He saw a vision right then of you, belly swelling with his child, hand adorned with his mother's ring and standing on the porch of a house he built for you. His wife. The mother of his child. Oh, the words tasted sweeter in his mouth the more he tried them out.

The crowd dispersed, and when Billy looked up, you were alone, twirling your gift of flowers between your fingers. The roseate picture you struck was like lightning in his heart. The organ had roamed near and far in search of a place to settle and call home, edging the Fate's will of survival. You were the answer.

His heartbeat pulsed as his feet moved, emotion guiding his movements. Nearly stumbling, his hands found your waist, arms engulfing you as he lifted you off your feet and brought his lips to yours.

"Mmph!" Your surprised noise was cut off by him again, mouth hungry and fervent for you. All of you. Your arms twined around his neck, and you smiled into the kiss. The brim of his hat bumped your head and he tilted his head back briefly, letting it fall behind him before he returned to you, pressing kiss after kiss to your delighted, awaiting mouth. Maybe it was a bit much for a public setting, but he hardly cared.

He lavished tiny pecks on your puckered lips, bringing you down from the high of it. When Billy pulled back, he didn't put you down, instead gazing into your eyes and watching you in the afterglow of the kiss.

You nudged your nose against his, one of your feet popping up as he held fast to you, slightly swaying back and forth. "What's this all about?"

"Can't I kiss the woman I love for no reason?" Billy grinned, securing one arm under your bottom to hold you better. The other remained at your waist.

A content smile overtook you, and your fingers tangled lightly in the curls at the nape of his neck. "My love...I would believe you if you hadn't swooped across the square with that look in your eyes."

"Hmm," he hummed, nuzzling his nose to your neck and burying a kiss there. "I should tell you what I'm thinkin' shouldn't I?"

"I'd like that," you lifted your chin merrily, leaning your forehead against his briefly. Your touch was his nectar of his life, and if it pleased you, he would drink long past overindulgence.

"Well," he began, the hand at your waist rising to cup your cheek, shifting the one at your bottom to support you. "I think I'm gonna marry you."

"Really?" you giggled, kissing his nose. "You want to marry me?"

"Wanna marry you 'n have a baby." He pressed a smattering of kisses across your cheeks. "And spend the whole rest of my damn life with you cause you're my girl and I ain't ever lettin' you go."

"Oh!" Your lips found his again, and he eyed you tenderly afterwards. Unable to quell your joyful smile, you asked with a starlike twinkle in both eyes, "You really want that with me?"

"More 'n anythin' darlin'," he promised, lips finding your forehead. "Sweetest girl...I love you so much."

Billy set you back on your feet, straightening your dress and pulling a flower from the bunch you still held in your hand and tucking it behind your ear just as you'd done with the little girl. "You'll make our little ones daisy chains, won'tcha?"

Nodding eagerly, your eyes seemed unable to leave his. Billy took your free hand in his and knelt to pick up his hat and hit it against his side to knock the dust off. Once it was satisfactory, he dropped it on your head, pulling it playfully over your eyes for a moment before knocking the brim back up.

"I've got somethin' to give ya when we get home," he promised, kissing your temple and thinking of the ring hidden beneath the floorboards. "Somethin' special."

"Can't wait." You kissed his cheek and he guided you over to the horse hand in hand.

He'd never been more excited to get down on one knee before.

[anddrewdoesthings]

Ghoul Anatomy Ref Sheet One Is Done!!

I have no idea how many more of these will be made (I want to do height, hair, ect at some point) But here's sheet one :)

explanation for everything hc wise and such below the cut 🐟

Water:

Water ghouls only have one kind of horn and those being the deep blue fading into a grayish blue, but with some ghouls (first observed in Mist) they will have a slight rainbow affect when the light reflects right (imagine them like those holographic stickers) . Their tails can also have a similar affect. Some ghouls even have blue patches that are bioluminescent and can spread to skin aswell. The most common areas for this are joints and cheeks.

Fire:

There are two different variations for fire ghouls, either white or the red fade variation. This is the most common ghoul type to have two different colored horns. Their tails are sharp and ashen looking, it is very easy to accidentally slice skin with it, for this reason they have unreasonably thick skin that can also withstand their fire.

Quintessence:

The horns seen above are that of a ghoul-kit, and a full grown ghoul. The purple color that ranges from blue-purples to pink-purples darkens as the ghoul gets older, white star like shapes are acommon trait but not guaranteed. Their tails are the same as their horns.

Air:

Air ghouls are by far the lightest colored ghouls (from horns down to skin). The horns take on a greyish-blue to grayish-green color, some appearing nearly all white like the fire ghoul horn type. Tails are a cloud like feel and constantly change shape like the pupils of their eyes.

Earth:

Earth ghouls have either coffee brown or a greenish color. Earth ghouls horns also darken with age. Occasionally the kind of earth ghoul with brown horns will grow vine like plants that wrap around both their tails and horns. Tail ends mimic those long leaves on trees.

Multi:

Multi ghouls are the funnest to work with because of the different possibilities, they can take on any coloration or combination of the different ghouls colors, these ghouls also have the chance with different colored eyes and horns, its still not as common as fire ghouls though. Swiss has light orange fading to grey horns and Aurora has horns that are colors that blend together in a rainbow like fashion. Their tails work the same. The most common base color for eyes are white though.

Hell-Bound:

Yes, fallen angels and hell bound angels exist with my headcannon, they take on the appearance of a ghoul slowly. Wings decay and their skin slowly darkens, horns painfully protrude from their heads and they loose their angelic abilities and get replaced with new demonish ghoul like ones. Though its common for them not to gain any power at all and have the same abilities as a human. A tell tale sign your dealing with a Hell-Bound is their eyes, once golden; now a murky yellow-brown color with pupils that resembled st. peters cross.

Anyways, ill make another post at a later date explaining heights, personality and all the other important things

if you ever want to use my hc's feel free to do so! just tag me or send your posts, I wanna see em >:]

[builtbybrokenbells]

Bugs, Bears, and a Thunderstorm

On a camping trip that y/n wasn’t particularly eager to go on, a set of unfavourable circumstances leads to the best possible outcome, leaving her to believe camping may not be so bad, after all.

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader

Word count: 12.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (fuck just please wear protection), fingering (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), face-sitting, sort of rough sex, bit of slapping ig, teasing, name calling, biting, touch of orgasm denial, touch of a daddy kink towards the end (im sorry, im terrible, ik), drinking, swearing, camping (deserves a warning), sorry if I missed any!!

ok without further ado, here it is! I’ve been working on this for like a week and was hoping to have it out days ago. but alas, im on day 3 of one of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had and i think i perhaps may be dying. anyway, im so down bad for this man it’s not even funny. sweet stuff at the beginning, the ending is pretty filthy. i have no explanation for it 😌 enjoy, and as always be kind and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

~

The sun was warm, inviting you in with its gentle embrace and loving touch. You sat under it, birds chirping in the distance and the smell of the trees filling your nose. The trickle of the lake nearby was calling to you, begging for you to jump in and feel the water on your skin. You made a mental note, ensuring you’d check it out before the day was through. The grass below you was tickling your thighs, reminding you how loving the earth could be if you treated it right. Peacefulness wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the scene. The stress melted off your body as if it never existed. Just by sitting there, you seemed to be able to forget about all of your other worldly troubles.

The serenity was disturbed when voices broke through the air, laughing and joking echoing like the owners didn’t realize you were enjoying the silence. You turned your head, eyes settling on a group of boys. You wanted to be mad, to scold them for disrupting your solitude, but you couldn’t. The minute they came into your line of vision, a smile was breaking out on your lips. “Trying to catch a tan?” Jake asked, taking a seat next to you on the ground.

“Maybe, more or less just enjoying some peace and quiet away from you guys.”

“Oh, come on, Mama, you know you love us.” Josh teased, taking up the empty spot on the other side of you.

“Depends on the day, really.” You shrugged off his comment, giving him a smile. He placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt, giving a dramatic gasp. “Oh, shut up, you know I do.” You assured him. He placed his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“You know, for someone who said she doesn’t like camping, you seem to be enjoying the trip so far.” Sam chirped, taking a seat on a lawn chair not far off from where the three of you were sitting on the grass. Danny followed suit, sitting in one beside him.

“I like the outdoors, Samuel. I don’t like tents, or bugs, or bears.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“That doesn’t really make it sound like you like the outdoors, either.”

“Sun! The sun is fantastic! Swimming is great, too! Hikes and fresh air and all of that is awesome! But, I like my bed, and I prefer to sleep without a million bugs trying to bite me, and the thought of not being eaten by a bear is very comforting.” You argued. He held his hands up in surrender, conceding from the discussion. “Besides, having a kitchen is great, and you know, a roof, in case of extreme weather is excellent, too.”

“Fine, I suppose you have a point.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of hikes,” Jake turned to look at you, now “we’re getting ready to go check out the trails. Care to join?”

“I was actually going to see the lake over there.” You were honest. You’d love to go with them, but the water was calling your name, and you knew that if you went with the boys, you may not be back until dark.

“You bring your life jacket?” Jake smiled, nudging you with his elbow.

“My god, you guys really know how to disturb the peace.” You shook Josh’s arm off you, standing now.

“You were the one who agreed to come with us.” Sam reminded.

“After you begged me to come!” You snipped.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved you off, all of them standing now, too. “Daniel will stay and keep you company, just to make sure that bear doesn’t get you.” He winked. The three brothers stalked off, going to collect their bags from the cabin. You watched them walk away, then turned to look at the boy they’d left behind.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Danny.” You assured him.

“I don’t mind,” he gave a nervous smile. You felt your stomach flutter at the sight. “Sometimes I just need a break from them, too.” He admitted.

It was day one of the camping trip you’d been coerced into going on. The boys had a break from touring, and you took some vacation time to spend with them for their time home. You’d arrived earlier that morning after the boys packed their cars with necessities and food. You’d split up into two cars. Sam and Danny had arrived together, and you and the twins went in the other vehicle. You were on the fence about going, due to all the reasons aforementioned. But, you’d managed to convince the boys to rent a cabin rather than rough it in tents, making your uneasiness about the plan a bit better.

After unpacking and throwing the food in the refrigerator, you’d all went your own way for a while. You found yourself content in a patch of sun by the fire pit, leading yourself to your current situation. Now the boys were gone, and you were alone with Danny, who’d managed to win your heart over from the minute you met him. Somehow, he still made you nervous even after years of knowing him.

Your apartment building was nestled in the heart of Nashville. You kept to yourself aside from a few friends you still had from high school, whom you’d spent almost all of your free time with. You were a local bar frequent, spending every weekend going out for karaoke and a few games of pool with your group, just for something to do. You weren’t the biggest fan of drinking, but adored the social aspect.

After one particularly rowdy night, you woke the next morning to banging and crashing in your hallway, covered up almost completely by loud voices. In your hungover state, you decided to check out the scene, wondering who was causing the disturbance in your normally, mostly calm complex. You hoped maybe you could reason with them to keep it down, just to keep your migraine at bay. You washed your face and pulled your hair back, throwing on some clean, comfortable clothes before investigating. When you peeked your head out your front door, you were taken back by the amount of items littering the otherwise empty space. You only had to wonder for a moment before a group of three boys you’d never seen before popped out from an apartment across the hall.

“Well, hello.” A shorter boy with curly hair gave you a breathtaking smile. You tried your best to return it, suddenly feeling very nervous.

“H-hi,” you stuttered, stepping into the hallway. You were too invested now, having to see the interaction through. “You guys moving in?” You asked, addressing all three of them. You noted how similar they all looked.

“We are!” The curly haired boy said, motioning to a strikingly similar boy beside him with long, wavy hair. “I’m Josh, and this is Jake.” He introduced them both. “We’re twins!” You couldn’t help but giggle at him. He was so bubbly and welcoming.

“I’m y/n.” You stepped forward, holding your hand out for them to shake. After the introduction with the twin boys, the taller boy stepped forward, pushing past the other two.

“I’m Sam,” he gave a smile, shaking your hand, too. “The younger, but better, brother.” You laughed at his words.

“So you’re all brothers?” Josh gave you a nod. “Must have been a full house growing up, then.”

“We have a sister, too.” Jake chuckled, leaning against the wall.

“Wow,” you exhaled, unable to imagine that many siblings. “I’ve got one, and she’s way younger than me.” You laughed. “I couldn’t imagine growing up with that many kids in the house.”

“We never killed each other, so I guess it turned out alright.” Sam grinned. “I’m actually moving in upstairs, too, with our best friend Danny. Not sure where he ran off to.”

“So four new faces to see around.” You nodded along to your own words. “I suppose it won’t be that bad. You guys seem alright.”

“As long as noise doesn’t bother you to much.” Sam chuckled. You cocked your head to the side, as if to ask him why. “We’re in a band.”

“Oh, cool! Noise doesn’t bother me, especially if it’s good noise.” You assured them. “The apartment isn’t really quiet in general. Lots of musicians and aspiring artists in here. The hallways usually pretty silent, but not the rooms. That’s kind of why I came out to investigate.”

“What about you, duckie?” Josh asked, eyeing your pyjama pants. You looked down, feeling redness rush to your cheeks at the childish pattern of rubber ducks plastered on the fabric. You were suddenly aware of how attractive all of the boys were, and how hungover you looked. “You an aspiring artist?”

“Writer.” You smiled, trying to brush off the embarrassment.

“I’d love to read something, someday.” His words were honest, warming your heart.

“Who knows, maybe you guys can be my new muse.” You joked.

“Oh! Can I be a superhero?” Sam exclaimed.

“Pirates,” Jake interjected, dismissing Sam’s idea. You giggled.

“I’ll make you guys sound super cool, don’t worry.” You assured them. “I’d love to hear some of your music, too.”

“You play any instruments?” Jake asked, trying to engage more in the conversation.

“I tried a bit of everything, I guess. Never stuck with much, but I could pick a tune on guitar and I could play a melody on the piano. I tried drums a couple times, but my family got fed up pretty fast.” You chuckled at the memory. “I like to sing, most of all, but I tend to stick to my writing.”

“You hear that, guys?” Sam looked between his brothers. “She’s coming for our jobs.” They all laughed at the statement.

“I think you’re all safe, don’t worry. Especially your drummer.” Your eyes looked between all of them, trying to figure out who that might be.

“Speaking of drummers,” Sam cleared his throat, eyes looking down the hall to another body moving towards the group. “Maybe this guy could teach you a thing or two, if you ever wanted to learn.” You couldn’t hide your staring when the fourth boy came into view. He was tall, wearing jeans and a muscle shirt, his biceps catching you off guard. His long curly hair framed his face, his nose a little on the larger side and his eyes glistening with a type of kindness you couldn’t fake.

“Who am I teaching?” He asked, smile wide and tone welcoming. He was breathtaking.

“Duckie.” Sam motioned to you, breaking you from your trance. “She said she’s not very good at the drums. Well, her parents didn’t think so, anyway. She may be alright.”

“Hi,” you breathed, clearing your throat “I’m y/n.” You tried your best to give a good first impression, but your crimson cheeks and racing heart were not helping your case.

“Danny.” He beamed. You started to hold your hand out to him to shake, but he dismissed it. “I’m a hugger, if you’re cool with that.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool too.” You managed to squeak out. He took a step towards you, wrapping his arms around you. “Nice to meet you.” You told him, and you meant it. It was very nice to meet him. His cologne lingered in your nose after he pulled away. You tried not to let it affect you, but you were swooning just at the thought of his arms around you. “Sorry I didn’t wear my Sunday best, I didn’t expect to meet anyone new. I was honestly gonna come out here and tell you guys to be quiet. The bar got the best of me last night.” You laughed. “But, since you guys are cool, I’ll let it slide.”

“‘Preciate it, duck.” Sam smirked. “You’re alright, too.”

“Aw, thanks.” The sarcasm was dripping from your words. “You guys need any help?”

“Maybe an interior decorator!” Danny offered. “All our stuff is in our apartment, but we aren’t exactly experts on the decoration part.” He admitted. “I’ll treat you to lunch if you could offer some insight.” You swore you saw his cheeks turn rosy, but you ignored it, believing you must have made it up. “Well, I’ll treat you to lunch, anyway, but I could really use a second opinion up there.”

“Y-yeah!” You stuttered. “Let me go and take a quick shower. I’ll meet you up there?”

“Sure, 208.” He replied.

“Guess we’re still stuck moving everything in down here?” Sam eyed his roommate. Danny gave a shrug.

“I wasn’t gonna let the pretty lady do the dirty work. Besides, you’re doing such a great job already.”

You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but whatever you’d felt for Danny that day was the closest thing to it. At first, you thought he may have felt the same way. He always wanted to hang out, made excuses to come to your apartment to visit, and always made sure you were invited to any of the group events. He never technically stopped doing that stuff, but it had never advanced. You guys had fallen into the friendship routine, never toeing any boundaries or crossing any lines. You wished he would, though. You bent down and picked your journal up off the grass, swiping away any dirt that had accumulated on it.

“So, are we going for a swim?” Danny asked, gazing in your direction for a second too long. You felt the nervousness creep back in.

“Yeah, of course. I gotta get changed.” You turned to the cabin, Danny following closely behind. Just as you reached the door, the others tumbled outside, almost knocking you over. You stumbled backwards into Danny, but he caught you and steadied you. His large hands holding your arms made your head spin.

“Sorry!” Sam exclaimed, inspecting you to make sure you were okay. You waved him off.

“S’okay, Sammy.” You assured him, regaining your footing. He was still watching you carefully, making sure you were being honest. “It’s okay.” You repeated, reaching out and giving him a pat on the arm. “Less scary than a bear.” You two shared a chuckle before the three brothers bid a goodbye, promising they’d be back soon. The two of you continued on your way, running up the stairs and into your own rooms. You pulled out the bikini you’d packed, quickly changing out of your shorts and tank top. You’d managed to tie the strings around your neck with no issues, but were struggling with the ones around your back.

A knock sounded on the door, startling you. “You okay in there?” Danny asked through the door. You sighed, holding the cups of the top tightly to your chest.

“No, can you help?” You called him in. “I need you to tie the strings for me.” The door creaked open, slowly revealing the boy you’d been talking to. He let out a small chuckle at the sight, making his way over to you. “Just as tight as you can, please.”

“Will do,” his fingers grazed the skin on your back, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. He took the strings and tied them together, making sure it was on securely. His palm landed on your lower back as you turned around, causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies. You turned to face him, taking in the sight before you. He was just in swim trunks, standing closer than you thought he was, with a grin plastered on his lips. Your breath caught in your throat at his exposed upper half; it was a sight you would never get used to, no matter how many times you saw him shirtless. “Ready?” He asked, fingers still lingering on you. You managed a nod.

The two of you clambered back down the stairs. He held the door open for you as you slipped on your flip-flops. “Wait!” You stopped, turning back towards him. He raised an eyebrow. “Sunscreen!” You ran back inside, grabbing the bottle from your bag and bringing it back to him. He watched you, unsure of what to do. “Put it on, silly.” You laughed. “No sunburns on my watch.” He playfully rolled his eyes, grabbing it from you and obeying. You took turns with the bottle, coating yourselves in the lotion. “Turn around.” You ordered. He did as he was told and you put some on his back, rubbing it in gently.

“You’re such a mom.” Danny poked fun at you.

“I’m not listening to everyone complain when they’re burnt and sore, later.”

“Fair enough,” He backed down “your turn.” He said once you finished, turning around and grabbing it from you. You allowed him to do the same, holding your hair out of his way. “Should be good enough.” He said, gently pulling you back around to face him. “Oh, hold on.” He squeezed a bit more on his finger. You watched with curiosity as he closed the bottle.

“I don’t think we missed-“ he raised his hand and swiped the dollop of lotion on your nose. You both broke out into a fit of giggles as you processed what he’d done. You massaged it into the bridge of your nose and over your cheeks, not finding it in you to be annoyed with him. He had a child-like humour by times that was heartwarming.

“Now we’re okay. Come on.” He grabbed your hand, leading you back outside. You shut the door behind you, letting him guide you to the water. You broke through the tree line, following the short trail to the clearing. The grass slowly transitioned into sand, which was surrounding a gorgeous body of water. The sun rays made the surface sparkle, illuminating the blue hue that looked so inviting. There was a dock with a small ‘no diving’ sign attached to it. You couldn’t see the other side of the lake, but you were assuming it wasn’t as large as it seemed upfront. There were a few other trails through the line of woods, presumably leading to other cabins in the campground. Each building was quite secluded, giving lots of privacy to the visitors. It was nice.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Danny asked from beside you, hand still in yours. You gave his a small squeeze, nodding your head.

“It’s like a whole different world compared to the city.” You sighed, kicking your shoes off. “I should come out here and write sometime.” You thought aloud, not really intending for a conversation.

“If you ever want company, you know where to find me.” He said, thumb running over the soft skin on your hand.

“As long as it’s just you,” you mumbled “the other ones are too distracting.” He laughed, letting go of you to step forward onto the beach. You followed behind him, immediately walking over to the dock. You were careful stepping on the old wood, not wanting to get a splinter. Once you made it to the end, you bargained with the thought of splinters, willing to risk one or two for the experience. You sat down, feet dangling over the edge, just barely reaching the water. You moved your legs back and fourth, getting a feel for the temperature. You looked back over your shoulder, watching Danny scale the shore, just a few feet in from the sand.

He caught your eye and you looked away quickly, your heart racing. You had a hard time not staring at him, but you didn’t want him to think you were weird. He walked over to where you were sitting, barely making a noise aside from the small splashes of water with his steps. “I thought you wanted to swim, duck?” He asked as he approached the dock. He waded into the water, coming to stand beside you. The water was shallow enough that he was only up to his navel in depth. He moved in front of you, hands reaching out and finding a home on the wood beside each of your legs.

“I’m in the water.” You reminded, pointing at your feet. He scoffed, holding back a laugh.

“I don’t think that counts.”

“Does so!” You argued.

“Come in with me.” He pleaded. You reasoned with yourself before answering.

“Is it cold?” You questioned. The water that was up to your ankles told you it wasn’t, but you were sceptical.

“No, it’s really nice. I promise.”

“Okay, but you have to stay with me, just in case.” You bargained.

“Don’t know how to swim?” He quipped, a smirk growing on his lips.

“I do! I’m just nervous. Usually I only swim in pools.” You admitted.

“Ah, whatever you say, city girl.” You responded by flipping him the middle finger. “Maybe Jake was right, we should’ve brought your life jacket.” You rolled your eyes.

“You know, maybe you should’ve went with them. I’d rather fight the bear than get bullied all day!” You both erupted into a fit of laughter again.

“Fine, I promise I won’t go too far away. I wouldn’t want a fish to get you.” He said through a giggle.

“You’re on thin ice, Wagner.” You warned. He took another step closer to you, his chest practically touching your knees. He held his arms out for you. You hesitantly scooted forward, letting him grab onto your hips. He lifted you carefully, slowly bringing you down into the water with him. You let out a sigh of relief when your feet hit the bottom. You were significantly further in than Danny, though. The bottom of your bikini top was hitting the surface of the lake.

“See, it’s not so bad.” He whispered, pulling you into him. His hands still rested on your waist, sending your stomach into knots. You were sure he could feel your pulse just from the proximity of your chests. “Right?” He mumbled, looking down at you.

“It’s not that bad,” you sighed an agreement, relaxing a bit. He smiled, leading you out further into the water.

“Float on your back.” He said, simply.

“I don’t know how to.” You admitted.

“I’ll show you.” He let go of you, taking a step away from you. His arm landed on your upper back. “Lean back, keep your legs straight.” He explained. You did as he said, easing into the water. Eventually, your legs rose a bit higher and he snaked his other arm under you, supporting your bum. You tried not to notice where his hand was, but it proved difficult. “Now keep your hips up and your legs straight. Don’t lose your posture, okay?”

“Okay.” You whispered. He held you for a moment, but slowly lowered his touch so you were floating on your own. He continued to stand next to you, making sure you knew he didn’t leave you stranded. “I’m doing it!” You exclaimed, looking at him through the corner of your eye.

“You are, duck.” He beamed down at you. “Good job.”

The afternoon was filled with aquatic adventure, but eventually dwindled into the early hours of the evening. The sun sinking slowly below the trees, but still bright enough to cast a golden glow over the earth. When the temperature started to drop, too, you and Danny made your way out of the lake, planning to retire back to the cabin. When you got out of the water, a shiver ran through you. Danny wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, trying to warm you up. When you got back through the trees, a billow of smoke through the air caught your attention. You continued walking to find the three other boys had returned from their hike and had lit a campfire. Jake was sitting in a chair with his acoustic guitar in his lap. Josh had a drink in his hand, face looking a bit red. You couldn’t tell if he was sunburnt or just drunk.

“Hello, lovebirds!” Sammy announced, causing you and Danny to look between each other, unsure how to respond. “Have a good swim?” He grinned.

“Shut up, Sam.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your towel on the ground to sit on it. Danny did the same, taking post next to you. The orange flames warmed you, drying any missed water droplets from your skin. “How was your hike?” You pointed the question to the twins.

“It was an extravagant exploration of the wilderness,” Josh giggled at himself. You could tell he’d been drinking for a while. You smiled at him, looking over to his brother who was picking a tune on the guitar. You hummed along with him, appreciating the sound of the song.

“Did you guys get anything to eat?” You asked. They all shook their heads. You had to hold back an eye roll, making a move to stand. “Okay. I’ll make something, then, before you all perish.” Danny looked up at you from his seat on the ground.

“Need any help?” You gave a nod, holding your hand out to help him up. The two of you disappeared back into the cabin. You raced up the stairs to grab a quick shower and get changed. You pulled on some sweatpants and a tank top, quickly brushing through your hair and meeting Danny back in the kitchen. “What are we making, duck?” He asked, standing up from the chair he’d been sitting at.

“I have no idea what they brought for food,” you laughed, walking to check the fridge. You searched, trying to find something to throw together. “Nachos, I guess?”

“Sounds good to me.” He smiled. You took out the ingredients the boys had thrown haphazardly into the fridge. The two of you cooked silently, both starving and ready to eat.

When the food was ready, you put out paper plates on the table and called everyone back inside. The meal went quickly, barely any words spoken. You were all hungry after a long day of activities. When the food was gone, you all joined forces to tidy up before going back outside. The boys all took their turns thanking you before returning back to the fireside. You grabbed a cooler from the fridge, cracking the can and taking a sip. You watched out the window for a moment, admiring the view.

Danny had started the shower upstairs, presumably wanting to wash the lake water off as badly as you’d wanted to, earlier. You went up to your room, sitting on the bed and pulling your journal out. You put your pen to the paper, wanting to write about the beautiful things you’d seen all day, the serenity of nature and the experience of being with your friends, but every word that came from you was all about the same thing; the boy who had taught you how to float today. You laughed at the memory, feeling a bit ridiculous that you were an adult and had no idea how to float on your back in the water. In a way, you were glad you didn’t, because it gave you an excuse to be close with Danny. You thought about the scene, the metaphor pouring out on paper effortlessly. He was so easy to write about, so easy to think about. He occupied your mind even when you were busy with a million other things. It was so easy being in love with Danny; it wasn’t easy, however, not knowing if he felt the same way about you. His lingering touches and affinity to be near to led you to believe he did, but he never gave any other idea that he felt that way.

If you’d known that day, when you joked about them being your new muse, that it would be so true, you never would have said it. Writers block was a distant memory now, your mind constantly begging you to write about the beautiful boy who lived just a floor above you. You’d heard about his dates, potential flings and pursuers, just the same as he’d heard about yours. You even met some of them. But, in the years that had passed since you met him, nobody you’d been with ever compared to him. You barely knew what it was like to touch him, or have him hold you. He’d never kissed you, or given you anything other than platonic love, but you knew that nobody could be better than Danny. He was a ray of sunshine, he made your day better just by knowing he existed. You were hopelessly pining after him, wishing he’d notice, but too scared to say anything to anyone.

You were broken from your thoughts when someone stepped in your room. You looked up to see the boy you’d been lost in thought about. “Hey, duckie.” He greeted, giving you a smile. The other boys never really consistently continued on with the silly nickname they’d given you all those years ago, but he did. The rest of the boys usually only called you it when they wanted to get on your nerves, or tease you, but was rare for Danny to call you by your name. You didn’t mind it, especially coming from him. “What are you writing about?”

“Just about the lake, earlier.” You replied, closing the journal and putting it beside you on the bed. He took a seat beside you.

“Care to share?” He asked. You convinced yourself he was only doing so as a formality.

“Nothing worth sharing.” You lied, looking over to meet his eyes.

“I think everything you write is worth sharing.” You felt your cheeks heat up, distracting yourself from the compliment by reaching over and taking a sip of your drink.

“Thanks, Danny.” You whispered. “Wanna head out to the fire?”

“Sure,” he said, looking a little dejected. You thought maybe he really did want to read what you had written. You promised yourself you’d show him eventually, when you worked up enough courage.

The boys were positively drunk by the time you rejoined them, laughing and signing along with Jake’s playing. You returned to your unspoken claimed spot on the ground. On the way out, Danny had grabbed his own guitar and started tuning it when he took his own seat. It didn’t take long for you to find yourself tipsy, too. You were tired, making the effects of the alcohol even stronger. You found yourself swaying to the music the boys were playing, entranced in Josh’s singing. Your eyes drifted towards Danny, watching him smile as he played, fingers dancing over the fretboard. He was beautiful, everything he did was captivating. You’d only noticed you were staring when he caught your eye, giving you a grin.

“You gonna sing us a song, y/n?” He asked. You heart sped as your name fell from his lips. It sounded so perfect coming from him.

“I mean, I can’t really compete with Josh, but I suppose I could give it a go.” You smiled. You could see the excitement dance across his face. He didn’t say anything else before he started playing again. When Jake picked up on what song he was picking, he joined in. Rhiannon. Fleetwood Mac. He remembered your favourite band. You sung along, carefree and open, not worried about how you sounded. All of the boys joined in on the chorus, laughing and belting it with you.

When the last note of the song rang out, Sam and Josh gave a round of applause, muffled by Jake and Danny’s cheers. “If you ever give up writing, we’d give you a spot in the band.” Sam laughed. You shook your head, dismissing his statement.

“No chance, Sammy. I’m just going to keep writing my silly little book and hopefully make it big, someday.”

“You’ve got four of your biggest fans right here once you do. Remember us when you’re famous.” Danny spoke now, immediately catching your attention.

“As if I could ever forget about you guys.” You said, but you directed it to him. You would never be able to leave any of them behind, but he’d always have a place in your heart, especially.

“Awww, you’re so sweet, Duck! I know you couldn’t forget about me, I’m your favourite!” Josh’s smile blinded you from across the fire.

“Of course, Josh.” You laughed.

The drinks slowly came to an end as the flames fizzled into embers. The music died off, too, all of you completely exhausted. Danny had thrown his guitar back in the case and you’d laid back, head in his lap while his fingers danced through your hair. You wished you could lay with him like this forever. Jake was picking at the strings, not with much intent. Josh was a second away from slumber, barely holding his eyes open. Sam had dozed off a few times in his chair, quite like a middle-aged dad. You were certain it was nearing midnight by now, but truly didn’t care enough to check. You closed your own eyes, just to satiate the need for sleep for a little while, not wanting the night to end.

Just as you did so, a raindrop landed on the coals of the fire, omitting a sizzle that brought you back to reality. You only had a second to realize what was happening before more were falling. Everyone sprung to action, the boys grabbing their instruments to get them inside. You gathered all of the damageable items, stuffing them into the pockets of your pants and the rest in your hands. The boys were inside by the time you collected the last of the things. The rain had picked up, now drenching your tank top. You swore under your breath as you made your way into the house, shivering and cold.

Danny was waiting for you by the door, immediately taking the stuff from your hands. “I’m sorry, duck! I wasn’t even thinking about the rest of the stuff, I just didn’t want to get the guitar wet-“

“It’s okay,” you promised, teeth still chattering.

“Here,” he placed all of the things on the ground and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, handing it to you. You took it, turning away to face the wall for a moment, slipping the wet shirt off. You pulled his sweater on, immediately feeling better. It was still warm from his body heat and it smelled like him.

“Thank you.” You sighed. The two of you joined the others in the kitchen, returning phones and wallets to the right owners. You all stood together, sharing mindless chatter and forgetting about the rainstorm for a moment. “You see, Sammy. Aren’t you so grateful for a roof, tonight?” You smirked.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Be careful, I might let one of the bears know which room is yours.” You both giggled, knowing he’d never let the joke die. “Well, I think it’s bedtime.” Sam sighed. Josh and Jake nodded, both feeling the same way. “Have a good night, everyone. I’ll make sure to wake you all at six sharp, so we don’t miss out on any festivities.” Sam announced. You rolled your eyes.

“If you show up at my door at six in the morning, you won’t be alive for any more festivities.” You warned.

“Understood.” Sam gave a salute before breaking away, heading upstairs. The twins also bid a goodnight and found their way to their own beds. You turned to look at the only other body left in the room.

“You going to bed, too?” You asked. He gave a shrug.

“Are you?”

“I’m not sure.” You said, looking around the empty kitchen. “I’m tired, but I don’t know if I’m ready to sleep yet. You don’t have to stay up with me, though.”

“I know I don’t have to.” He chuckled. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.” You gave a small smile.

“Go to bed, Danny.” You gave him a gentle pat on the arm. “I’ve got a date with my journal. And by date I mean staring blankly at it until something good comes out of it.” He laughed at your words.

“You know where to find me if you need anything, then.” He replied, hand reaching out and landing on your lower back. He pulled you in for a hug, chin resting on top of your head. You held on to him, not wanting to let him go. Eventually, he broke away, leaving you wishing he’d stay. “Goodnight, duckie.” He whispered, walking out of eyesight before you could formulate a response. You sat in the kitchen, waiting until you heard his bedroom door shut, thinking about the days events. Eventually, you found yourself retiring back to your room.

You clicked on a lamp that was on the table beside the bed. It was soft, enough so you could see what you were doing, but not enough to become annoying. The rain softly puttered against the windows, inviting you in. You loved rain, the sound was so soothing and it was the perfect ambience. Your journal still rested on the bed, saving a spot for you. You slid under the covers and opened it back up. The words poured out effortlessly, continuing on with your story as if you’d never stopped in the first place. You filled the page, not taking a break until you were jolted to reality from a thunder crack outside. Your stomach churned at the sound. You tried to ignore it, but another boom and flash of light startled you again. You loved the rain, but you hated thunder, and despised lightning.

You swallowed hard, feeling a nervous tremble in your hand as you tried to keep writing. By the fifth snap of thunder, you were no longer able to focus on anything you were doing. It was a childish fear, but the loud noises were always unsettling to you, mostly because you never knew when it would happen. Counting the distance between bangs only kept you more on edge, and then the spark of light lost your focus. You climbed back out of bed, finding a bit of solace in Danny’s sweatshirt that you were wearing. You pushed the door open, creeping down the stairs, hoping you wouldn’t wake anyone. When you made it to the kitchen, you searched for a kettle, hoping that there was one in the cabin somewhere.

You stumbled across a tattered electric one, smiling in triumph. You pulled a teabag from the small sandwich bag you’d filled while packing. That was one thing you knew you couldn’t go the weekend without. The water ran quietly from the tap, filling the kettle within a few seconds. You flipped it off, searching in the dark for an outlet.

Once you plugged it in and flipped it on, you sat at the table to wait for it, focusing on the noise of the boiling water rather than the commotion outside. Your fingers drummed against the wooden table, filled with anxiety. You were calming down slightly, thinking the storm may have been dwindling to an end, but the rain started coming down harder and another sound of thunder filled the home, much stronger than the rest. A bright flash filled the windows, and the sound of the boiling water slowed to a stop. The power had gone out. Your heart was racing now, palms breaking out into a sweat. You decided the best course of action was to go back to your room and hope to fall asleep.

“Y/n?” A low voice said from the bottom of the stairwell. You jumped, whipping your head to see who it had come from.

“Oh, Danny,” you sighed, laughing gently. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly, making his way towards you. His hair was pulled back and his shirt was off, leaving him just in a pair of sweatpants. “What are you still doing up?” He asked, but he already knew the answer. He’d never forget how much thunder bothered you.

“Ah, just couldn’t sleep.” You brushed it off.

“Thunder?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Powers out, too.” He was in front of you now, kneeling down so he could see your face. His hand reached out, finding your cheek. His thumb brushed over the skin, causing you to melt into the touch. The anxiety bubbled away just from him being there.

“You can come to bed with me, if you want.” He offered. You looked up at him through your lashes, unsure if he really said what you thought he did. “O-or Sam, or anyone, really.” He covered it up, quickly. “Nobody would mind.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” You brushed it off.

“You’d never be intruding. I can go wake up whoever you want to stay with-“

“You, Danny.” You assured him. “I’d like to stay with you, if it’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course it is. Come on.” He stood, holding his hand out for you. You took it and he carefully guided you to his room. He let you go in first, opening the door for you. You slowly shuffled inside, turning to look at him. He chuckled at your nervousness, closing the door behind him. “I can sleep on the floor, you can take the bed.” He said pulling a pillow from the mattress. You held your hand out to stop him.

“We can both…” you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at your words. “We can, uh, both sleep in the bed. I mean, if you’re okay with it. It’s just… it’s a big bed, there’s no need for you to sleep on the floor. If anything, I can sleep on the floor-“

“Hey,” he laughed, throwing the pillow back in its place “it’s okay, if you’re cool with it, I am too.”

“Okay, great.” You internally cringed at yourself, realizing how stupid you sounded. You watched as he climbed under the covers, not sure what to do.

“Oh, did you want me to put my shirt on?” He asked, quickly making a move to stand again.

“No, it’s okay.” You said, making a move to get in beside him. He scooted over, giving you as much room as possible. “We can put a pillow between us if it makes you more comfortable.” He laughed at your words as you both settled in.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t think you have cooties.” You let out a small giggle.

“Maybe you do, though.”

“Too late for you, then. You’ve been wearing my sweater all night.” He argued. You relaxed a bit, the anxiety seeping away. You’d almost forgotten why you were in bed with him in the first place. He rolled onto his side, facing you.

“I guess so,” you sighed “I’ll never recover.”

“You poor baby,” Just as he said it, another roaring wave of thunder shook the house. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound. Without wasting any time, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into him. You accepted the hold, shifting on your side and burying your head in his chest. He held you tightly, not even so much as considering letting you go. “It’s okay.” He whispered, rubbing your back gently. You relaxed into his touch, wrapping your arm around him and allowing him to comfort you.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you.” You mumbled. He moved the hair from your face, running his fingers through it and gently brushing out any knots.

“My pleasure, duck.” He hummed, still holding you close to him. “Who doesn’t love a good sleepover?” You gave a small laugh, mumbling an agreement. Any sleepover would be fantastic as long as it was with him. You guys fell into routine of listening to each others breathing, eventually drifting off into a slumber that was more peaceful than any you’d had before.

When the sun peaked through the curtains the next morning, it was almost like the storm had never happened. Golden rays casting over both of the bodies in the bed, showcasing that neither of you moved the whole night. You were still wrapped up in Danny’s arms, holding him closely to you. His hands had drifted downwards, hand decorating your thigh and fingers dangerously close to your ass. You were awake, the sunlight ensured that, but you wished so badly that you weren’t. You wanted to stay like this all day, sleeping next to Danny and soaking up every bit of affection you could get from him. You felt grateful for the thunderstorm last night, realizing that it was the sole reason you had the opportunity to wake up to the beautiful sight of him sleeping next to you.

You wiggled impossibly closer, gentle enough to avoid waking him. You just wanted to be surrounded by him and to never have to let go. He stirred but didn’t wake. Instead, the hand that was holding your hip tightened and pulled you closer to him. Your heart fluttered but you tried to stay calm, shoving the interaction to the back of your mind. Though, it was really hard to forget the feeling of his hand on you, burning into your skin and lighting you on fire. You tried not to think about your own fingers dancing on the bare skin of his back, how warm he was and how you wanted to lay there and trace patterns into it all day. You closed your eyes, trying to let sleep take over once more, but his heartbeat was fuelling you rather than serving as a lullaby.

Your feelings for Danny were always prominent, standing out above anything else, but in that moment they were driving you insane. You wanted nothing more than to lean up and kiss him, just to know what it felt like. You wanted him to wake up, to see you as more than the downstairs neighbour or his friend. You wanted to start your day wrapped around him like this every morning. As if the universe heard your silent plea, Danny shifted, hand never leaving you, and took a sharp inhale. You pulled your head back, looking up at his face. His eyes fluttered open, immediately looking down at you. His lips upturned into a smile which you returned without a thought.

“Good morning, duck.” He whispered, hands unmoving as if he was enjoying touching you, too.

“Morning,” you managed to muster out, eyes taking in every aspect of his features. He was doing the same, wanting to remember exactly what you looked like first thing in the morning. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, really good.” He sighed. “You?”

“Me, too.” You said, making a move to turn on your back. He kept his hand on you as you moved, not letting you get too far away.

“Storm didn’t bother you too much?”

“No,” you tried to ignore the nervousness brewing in the pit of your stomach. “Felt pretty safe in here with you.”

“I was hoping you would.” You both fell back into silence, his thumb teetering just underneath the hem of your shirt, scared to push his luck. You laid still, hoping maybe he would understand that you were far from complaining about the contact. You were too scared to give any encouragement, afraid that you may have been getting the wrong idea from the encounter.

“Probably should get up, see what everybody else is doing.” You breathed, looking towards him but making no effort to leave.

“I really don’t care what they’re doing.” He admitted.

“Me, either.” You laughed. “I could stay here all day.”

“What’s stopping you?” He asked, suddenly finding enough courage to slip his hand just under your sweater, now letting it dance over the soft skin that lie beneath. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes looking for some sign of joking in his expression.

“Nothing,” You said. “We are on vacation, aren’t we?” He gave a nod, a smile creeping onto his face. “Staying in bed all day is more than acceptable.” He wasted no time pulling you back towards him, rolling on his back as he did so. You let out a giggle at his suddenness, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you on top of him.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He sighed, his grip now falling to your lower back. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, hand resting on his chest. “I didn’t want to say it last night, but I was really hoping you wanted to stay with me, and not one of the other guys.”

“Why is that, Daniel?” Your anxiety was melting away, knowing he wanted you there just as much as you wanted to be there.

“I think you know why, y/n.” His tone was completely serious, no hidden implications behind his words.

“I don’t think I do.” You whispered. You pulled back from him to look at his face. His eyes were watching you carefully, looking to see if you were being honest.

“Come on, duck, you really have no idea?” You shook your head, waiting for him to continue. “I love you.” He almost laughed at his own words.

“I love you too, Danny.” You told him, your heart racing.

“No, like I really love you. I’m in love with you.” He said, clarifying even further.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I am, too.” He didn’t move, still continuing to watch you to ensure you weren’t joking. “Last night when you asked what I was writing about, I was writing about you.” You laughed. “That’s why I didn’t want to show you. I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“So you’re telling me I’m your muse?” He smirked, cockiness radiating from him. “Sam’s going to be pissed. He was really hoping you’d make him a superhero.”

“He’s not cool enough to be a superhero, I just don’t have the heart to tell him yet.” You both laughed, feeling the weight of the world being lifted off your shoulders. “How long have you felt like this?” You asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

“I mean, I’ve always thought you were pretty. When we were moving in and I asked you to come upstairs and help me, I just wanted an excuse to get to know you, and take you out to eat.” He explained. “I guess I never realized I was really in love with you until we started touring. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I was always a little bit jealous if I heard you on the phone with the other guys. Then I knew I was really in pretty deep.”

“You never said anything.”

“I was scared,” he finally broke the eye contact. “I mean, we all practically live together, we’re all friends, I was scared of risking it all.” You felt like screaming. Years of repressed feelings and emotions were flooding you all at once, angry with yourself that you never got the nerve to be honest with him. “I think that this morning I realized I had to tell you, because I want to wake up next to you every day.” He chuckled.

“Me too, Danny.” You rushed out. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you.” You felt your cheeks turn red.

“So love at first sight, then.” He teased. “I guess we were both pretty stupid.”

“Yeah,” you practically scoffed. He didn’t let you say another word, because he was pulling you forward into a kiss. You thought maybe you should pinch yourself, just to make sure it wasn’t some grandly fabricated dream you’d wake up disappointed to. You didn’t care, though, because even if it was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had. He gently pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, causing a small moan from you. You shifted your position without breaking from his lips, moving your legs on either side of him. Both of his hands immediately shot to your hips, wanting to make sure you knew that your new position was very welcomed.

One of your palms fell flat on his chest, holding you up. The other cupped his cheek, holding his face to yours. Eventually, you pulled away to catch your breath, head spinning and chest burning with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He smiled at your words, pushing you down a little towards his legs so he could sit up. His back rested against the headboard of the bed. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, wanting to see your face.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, now.” He gently brought your lips back to his. The kiss was sweet, filled with love and even better than you had ever imagined it. You were desperate for more, no patience left from waiting so long. He deepened the kiss, more than likely feeling the exact same way. It didn’t take long for it to become messy, both of you grasping at each other, frantic to know everything about the undiscovered parts of each others bodies. You could feel his erection pressing into your heat, causing your arousal to grow even more. “Can I take this off?” He asked, pulling at the bottom of your sweater. His face was barely parted from yours, just enough so he could get the words out. You gave a small nod, lifting your arms so he could pull it off for you. He threw it to the floor, eyes raking over your naked upper half. His mouth moved down to your neck, nipping and biting at the soft skin. When he found a particularly sensitive spot, his attention rested there, sucking gently. You rocked your hips forward into him without intent, begging for some friction. “Needy,” he smiled against your neck.

“Been waiting for this for a long time,” you sighed, a hint of a whine in your tone.

“It’s okay, baby, you can have me. Just have to be patient.” He assured you, his hand reaching to cup one of your breasts. “Have to appreciate you first.” The pad of his thumb brushed over your hardened nipple, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. He pinched it gently, rolling it between his fingers and watching your reaction. Your eyes settled on his face, a pleading look instilled in them. You saw his jaw clench. He wanted the foreplay to continue but he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.

He flipped you over, settling you on your back without a word. He tapped your thigh, silently letting you know he wanted you to lift your hips. You did as he wanted and he pulled off your pants, throwing them in the steadily growing pile of clothes on the floor. You watched him as you laid back on the bed, still forcing yourself to believe it was real life. His hair was still pulled back into a bun, some pieces falling out here and there. His eyes still looked tired, but his expression showed that he was wide awake and fully invested in the moment. “Seeing you like this is way better than anything I’ve imagined before.” He whispered, lips trailing over your bare stomach, sucking marks into the skin just above your panty line.

“So you’ve imagined me like this before?” You tried to sound confident, but your voice was shaky and gave you away immediately. His mouth moved to your hip, gently sinking his teeth into you. You let out a noise of surprise at the feeling.

“You haven’t?” You could hear the smirk in his voice; you didn’t even have to look at him to know.

“Maybe once or twice,” you admitted. He was right, this was much better than any of the dreams or fantasies you’d had about it. The feeling of his mouth on you was intoxicating. He pulled back from you, moving to rest on his knees. He made a move to take off your underwear, which you happily helped him with. You could see how hard he was through his sweatpants; the sight alone was driving you crazy. Once he had you fully naked, he slipped an arm underneath your hips, then roughly flipped you over onto your belly.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, more than okay.” You assured him.

“Let me know if you want me to stop, or if I do anything you don’t like, okay?” You nodded. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I will, baby.” You promised. He started back at the top of your body, lips brushing over your shoulders, making their way down to the dip in your back. His large hand became quite familiar with your ass, fingers squeezing it ever so slightly. He pulled back again, just long enough to deliver a sharp slap to the same spot his hand had been just a moment before. You gasped, not expecting the sudden change in his demeanour. He leaned down and placed a small kiss where he’d left the stinging red mark.

He moved his hand between your legs, fingers slowly running through your wetness.

“All this for me, sweet girl?” Hearing such a pet name coming from his mouth was enough on its own to warrant an orgasm. His fingers explored further, almost immediately landing on your clit. He knew he’d hit the right spot when a moan fell from your lips. His index finger circled there a few times, allowing some relief for you. “You want it so bad, don’t you?” You hummed a response, but he pulled his hand away from you completely. “Use your words.” He ordered.

“Y-yeah, I do, Danny. So bad.” You stuttered, taken aback. You definitely didn’t expect him to be as dominant as he was being. His usual sweet personality has seemed to vanish completely.

“That’s what I thought.” He resumed his slow pace at your clit, enough to give you some pleasure but not enough to get you off. He was driving you crazy. He continued on at that speed for only a short while before he removed his hand again, grabbing your hips and pulling them up off the bed. “M’sorry baby, I can’t wait any longer.” He shuffled back to his knees, pulling his pants down just enough to free his cock. He spit on his hand, stroking himself for a second before pushing into you, letting out a sigh of relief at the feeling.

He used his hands on your hips to pull you back on him as he thrusted into you, hitting your cervix hard on every re-entry. Each time you let a moan out, letting him know he was doing a good job. His fingers were digging into you more with every movement, and your were certain there would be perfect, fingers shaped bruises to remind you of him. One of his hand slipped up to your hair, balling it in his fist and pulling your head back. He leaned down, moving your head to the side so he could kiss you while he fucked you. You whimpered into his mouth, which in turn caused him to grip your hair even tighter. “Being such a good girl for me.” He muttered as he pulled away. The praise began to form a knot in your belly, desperate for a release.

He removed his hand from your hair, slipping it under you, reaching down to your bundle of nerves again. The combined feeling of him inside you and the stimulation on your clit was making your head spin. The burning in the pit of your stomach was growing by the second. It didn’t take him long to catch on, your ragged breathing and string of moans served as a strong indication of your impending orgasm. “Danny, I’m gonna-“

“No, you’re not.” He cut you off.

“I-I can’t-“

“Don’t,” he warned. “Not yet.” He didn’t slow his pace, making it even harder for you to control yourself. Your noises of pleasure became more erratic, informing him that you couldn’t stop it. He pulled out immediately, moving his fingers, too. You let out a whine, almost in pain at the loss of contact. You were panting, legs shaking underneath you. Without really thinking, you reached your hand down to your cunt, trying to find some relief. He noticed, grabbing your hand before you could get anywhere. “I told you no, baby.” He was taunting you, hoping you’d beg for him. Little did he know he didn’t have to ask for that. You’d been desperate for him for years, all of it finally coming out now.

“Please, Danny. I need it so bad.” Your head was still down on the bed, not willing to move and look him in the eyes. A gentle hand ran down your ass, fingertips trailing down the back of your thigh. The light tickle was enough to sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

“How bad, baby?” He breathed. His voice was low, dripping with emotion. You had to commend him for his self control. He stood now, fully taking off his pants. He walked to the side of the bed, looking down at you.

“So bad,” you whined. “Can’t wait any longer. Please, please fuck me.” He grabbed your hair again, pulling your head up gently to look at him. He gave you a small, reassuring smile, just so you knew he wasn’t going to push you too far. As soon as he was certain you’d seen it, it disappeared.

“You sound so pretty when you beg for me.” He took your face in his hand, making you keep the eye contact with him. He leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips. You made a move to sit up, sitting on the edge of the mattress to face him. You took the time to admire him, now, finally getting the full view of him. The usual sweetness in his eyes were replaced with a dark look, one that sent a shiver down your spine. A good one, but still a feeling you’d never had from him before. He almost held a scowl on his features, for lack of better description. But it wasn’t hateful; it was authoritative, and it was turning you on more by the second.

His cock was eye level with you, head red and glistening with pre-cum. Your mouth was watering at the sight, curious to know what he tasted like. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him a sweet look before leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. You realized that he was much bigger than you’d anticipated, confidence slightly diminishing. You gripped him at the base, stroking the bottom half that couldn’t fit in your mouth. He let out a groan, watching you suck him off with nothing short of adoration. You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, slacking your jaw and relaxing your throat. He took it as an invitation, slowly thrusting in time with the bobbing of your head. He wasn’t being aggressive, wanting you to know you had the freedom to stop him if it got too much.

When you enthusiastically continued, he did, too. His fist found your hair again, holding your head in place while he fucked your mouth. He didn’t push you past your limit, but certainly tested it. When his hips stuttered slightly, you knew he was getting close to his orgasm. You didn’t care, wanting him bad enough that you’d let him finish wherever and however he wanted to. He pushed your head down on him as he pushed himself down your throat, causing you to gag, tears forming in your eyes. You felt him twitch in your mouth, wondering if he would stop or just finish right there. The noises and profanities that were slipping from his mouth were heavenly. Just when you thought he might cum, he pulled back from you completely. His breathing was heavy, jaw clenched and eyes a little sex-crazed.

“Up,” he ordered. You scrambled to your feet, still trying to process his quick withdrawals. He seemed to want you everywhere, in any way he could have you. You weren’t complaining, feeling the exact same way. You dreamt of having him like this so many times, and now that you did, you wanted him to have you in any way he pleased. He laid on the bed, looking to you. “Come here.” He held his arm out, motioning for you to join him. You moved towards him, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist. As you were lining yourself up with him, he held your hips, stopping you from going any further. He roughly pulled you upwards, catching you off guard. You caught his eyes, finally understanding what he wanted; He wanted you to sit on his face.

“Danny, I don’t know-“ his hand lifted to your face, gently brushing over your flushed cheeks.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” He assured you. The nervousness fizzled away.

“I just… I don’t want to hurt you or anything.” He let out a chuckle.

“Baby, I’m asking you to. If you hurt me by sitting on my face, I think I’d be very proud of that injury.” There was no tone of sarcasm or humour in his words. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but if you’re worried about me, don’t be.” His voice was firm, assuring you he was more than okay with the situation.

“Okay.” You whispered. He guided you upwards, settling his head between your legs. His hands were firmly planted on your ass as you hovered over his mouth. “I’ve never done this before.” You admitted.

“If you want me to stop, I will.” He said. You weren’t looking at him but you knew the sincerity was pooling in his eyes. He would never say that without meaning it. “Are you okay with this?” He asked again. His earlier aura of dominance had faltered. It was just Danny, as sweet as he’d always been. He always made you feel safe.

“Yeah, I am.” You replied. Once he heard your answer, he pulled you down onto his mouth. A gasp of surprise sounded from you, but it was quickly replaced with a cry of pleasure. You had to silence yourself, biting down on your lip. He was quick to the point, fucking you with his tongue. Your anxiety dissipated almost as soon as his tongue was on you, completely replaced with pleasure. His movement was fast, working at you like he had been dreaming of having you like that forever. Your hips involuntarily rocked into his movements.

The tip of his nose brushed against your clit, driving you closer to your orgasm. You let out a whine, knuckles gripping the blankets on the bed. He moved upwards, focusing his attention there and slowing his speed. The burning in your belly that had been building seemed to remain steady, the feeling radiating through every nerve in your body. It didn’t take long for your breathing to become ragged and your muscles to tense. Your moans were frantic, the heat of his mouth and the strokes of his tongue were heavenly for such a sinful activity. “Danny, m’gonna cum.” You whimpered. He hummed against you, encouraging you. His grip tightened on your ass, holding you down on his face. Within a few seconds, you hit your peak, unravelling and calling out his name. Your legs were shaking, knuckles turned white from your hold on the fistfuls of blankets. He rode you through it, slowly stopping his movements as he gently lifted you off of him.

“How was that, baby?” He breathed, looking up at you.

“S’good,” you sighed. He tapped your ass with his hand and you raised yourself up, freeing him without moving from where you were. He guided you back down his body, stopping you when you were over his hips. He didn’t give you any warning before he grabbed his cock in his hand and brought you down on him. The feeling of him inside you again was blissful. The feeling of him under you was, too. You started slowly, wanting to savour the moment. He allowed it for a few seconds, wanting that, too.

After a minute, he used a hand to pull you down to kiss him. He took the opportunity to fuck you at his own speed, hips raising from the bed and slamming into you. You moaned into his mouth, only making him fuck you harder. His tip was hitting your cervix, causing a pleasurable pain to shoot through you. You sat up again, riding him as he fucked into you. He had a hand on your hip and reached his other one up to cup your tit, grabbing your nipple and pinching it. You used one of your hands to rub circles into your clit. He was watching you carefully, soaking up every expression.

“Look so good riding me,” he mumbled, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You clenched around him, letting out a small gasp. “You’re my little whore, aren’t you?” He murmured. Your breath caught in your throat, looking down at him with wide eyes. Your orgasm was building again, pushing you closer with every move of his hips. Your fingers on your clit never slowed, desperate for another one. “Answer me.” He snapped.

“Y-yeah, I am,” You groaned. His eyes burned into you expectedly. You weren’t sure what exactly he wanted, but you had an idea. “Daddy.” you whispered. His jaw clenched, eyes rolling back in his head at the sound. You’d never pegged him for the type, but once you’d started fucking, you slowly started to realize there was a whole other side to him you knew nothing about.

“That’s my girl.” He was throbbing, also painfully close to his climax. “Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” He asked, voice faltering. He was barely holding back. Your fingers sped, not worried about holding on either. You nodded your head, but he wanted an answer. His hand on your hip moved, snaking behind you and landing a sharp slap on your ass.

“Yes, daddy, I am.” You moaned. With another thrust you came hard, palm planted on his chest so you wouldn’t fall over. “Fuck!” You cried. He wasn’t long finishing, pulling you down on his cock and staying buried in you.

“Oh fuck, y/n.” His eyes screwed shut, head falling back on the bed as he spilled into you. You collapsed on top of him, both sweaty and panting. His fingers danced over your back, tracing small patterns into your exposed skin. His lips found the top of your head, placing a sweet kiss on there. You melted into him, wishing you could stay like that with him forever.

Eventually, he helped you off of him, ordering you to lay back while he got something to clean you up with. When he returned, he wiped you off and pulled you in for a kiss. You savoured it, finally realizing that everything that happened was, in fact, real life. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, grabbing one of his shirts from his bag and handing it to you. You sat up and slipped it on. You both stood, gathering your pants from the ground. “That was fantastic.” You told him. A smile graced his lips.

“You are fantastic.” He said, pulling you into a hug. “I wish I could start every morning like that.” He sighed. You let out a giggle.

“Me, too.”

“You want to go find something to eat?” He asked. You gave a nod, making a move for the door. He grabbed your hand before you could leave the room, pulling you back to look at him. “I was also wondering, maybe, if you’d want to be my girlfriend?” A blush rose to his cheeks. You grinned, barely comprehending how he’d just had sex with you like that and was nervous to ask you to be his girlfriend. It was adorable.

“Yeah, Danny. I’d really like that.” His smile grew, too, as he pulled you in for another kiss. “Now let’s go get breakfast. We can see if the boys are still alive.” He kept his hand in yours as you both went downstairs. Nobody was in the kitchen when you got there, so you both went to work, finding something suitable to eat. In midst of cooking, the front door opened. You both turned to see Sam stumbling in. He immediately looked between both of you, raising an eyebrow. “Good morning,” you greeted.

“Glad to see you’ve both decided to join the rest of the world.” He said, making his way to the table. He took a seat before he spoke again. “I went to wake you up this morning only to find your bed empty. I thought that bear you’d been talking about really did get you.” He let out a disapproving tsk. “Turns out it was just Danny.” You felt heat rise to your face, knowing Sam knew exactly where you ended up last night.

“Yeah, I stayed with him last night. Thunder storm, couldn’t sleep.” You explained.

“Uh-huh,” Sam nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “Josh and Jake went to check out the water earlier. I stayed back to wait for you both. Realized I would be waiting for a while, so I was forced to explore outside a little bit.” Your stomach dropped, realizing he’d heard you both this morning. You wanted to shrivel up and die.

“Shut up, Sam.” Danny dismissed him, seeing you were embarrassed.

“What! I’m happy you guys finally made a move. It was getting a little unbearable watching you two.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes, still cringing at the whole interaction. “Care to share some breakfast with the poor soul who had to listen?” You hid your face in your hand, wanting nothing more than to run away.

“Go and join your brothers,” Danny was holding back a laugh while he shoo’d him away. Sam raised his hands in defence, standing.

“Fine, I see how it is.” He stalked towards the door. “Oh, y/n?” He asked as his hand reached towards the knob. You looked to him, annoyed that he’d only come inside to poke fun at you.

“What, Sam?” You asked, knowing he wouldn’t let it go.

“Glad to see you really are enjoying the camping trip, after all.” He giggled to himself. You groaned.

“Never going to live this down, am I?” You muttered. He opened the door, taking a step outside.

“Never.” He assured you. He shut the door behind him, leaving you and Danny by yourselves again. You could tell he was trying to hold back from laughing.

“I wasn’t that loud, was I?” You asked. He looked to you from the corner of his eye.

“Um, no, I wouldn’t say so.” He tried to comfort you. You could tell he was lying.

“Danny! Why wouldn’t you say anything?” You smacked his arm. He gave a chuckle and a shrug.

“It was way too hot for me to tell you to be quiet.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at him.

“So you just subjected me to a life full of torment?” You couldn’t help but smile, too.

“I think it was well worth it.” He pulled you into him, lips landing on yours once again. As annoyed as you were, you couldn’t help but agree. You were certain everyone in the world could hate you, but if Danny was by your side, it wouldn’t matter. You would take a lifetime worth of bullying from Sam, because you finally had the one thing you’d wanted so badly for so many years. Hell, you were even thankful for the bugs, and the bears, and especially the thunderstorm, because it landed you there with him, making breakfast and wearing his clothes, as his girlfriend.

[xxoxobree]

His Angel (Prelude)

Miles Morales E42 x Angel Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of religious themes, depression, insecurities

You were from a different world, a being of light, something that the world below deemed perfect, something that humans wished to be in the afterlife. What humans didn't know is that they weren't that different. Your kind had feelings too, mostly feelings of happiness. Who wouldn't be happy in a paradise where the streets are literal solid gold? Days filled with endless sunshine, with every color imaginable streaked across the skies. The air, clean and crisp, renewing you with each breath. Blooming flowers swaying in the gentle breeze, filling the air with an amazing aroma. Fluffy clouds scattered across the sky, inviting you to bounce from one to the other. But you weren’t like the rest of your kind, and you knew it the day your conscience exploded into existence.

Your halo appeared to be smaller than the others and didn't sparkle as much. Your wings weren't as fluffy, with grey feathers running through them. The only thing that seemed to radiate on you was your beautiful brown skin.

You always tried to embrace and love your differences, knowing that others saw you as an anomaly. You even went through the excruciating pain of plucking out each and every one of your grey feathers, hoping that they would regrow as white and "normal.", they never did.

You would describe yourself as friendly, always wearing a smile and eager to connect with any other angel who would be willing to look beyond your appearance. But most angels would quickly avert their gaze or simply ignore you as if you didn't exist. This made you stop trying over time, and your once sweet smile faded, replaced by a hardened expression. A feeling of loneliness grew in your heart while you resided in the great beyond.

Being alone and without anyone to keep you company, you often found yourself spending most of your time on the edge, gazing down and becoming immersed in the world of humans below. Days would pass as you twirled your fingers around in the fluffy clouds, your chin resting in your hands. You would listen to the humans, learning their names, repeating phrases you heard them use, dancing along to music you didn’t quite understand. They were happy, something that seemed foreign to you now as a being that is supposed to be eternally happy. They felt sadness and anger, which was a normal part of their human experience. They got to feel! Watching them sparked a new feeling within you, one that didn't belong in your heavenly home: envy.

A sense of longing started to settle in before too long after eons of watching. You would reach out your hand, stretching as far as you could, hoping to touch the human world, hoping to get a chance to become one of them.

You've heard a phrase that the humans you watched said a lot: "be careful what you wish for." And you were finally starting to understand it the day you were summoned by the supervisor of the guardian angels, Eden. He was named after the famous garden that you've managed to visited a few times, the closest you’ve ever got to your dream of life on earth. Your heart fluttered as you glided along the sky to meet him . What could he possibly want with you? You thought to yourself that you had certainly done it now, done too much, and gotten too close to the human world, which was strictly forbidden if you weren't sent on guardian duty. Shivers ran down your body as you thought about the punishments, being cast out on earth, forced to live in the shadows, or even worse, being bound in chains under the earth.

Your gaze caught the tall statuesque figure pacing slowly, his eyes fixed on the human world as they always were. You cleared your throat and spoke, "Hello Eden, it's a pleasure to meet with you." Eden's eyes never left the world below, but he spoke gently as ever, his voice sounding like a flowing stream. "It's nice to meet you too, I've heard a lot about you, my dear." You looked down at your feet, a look of defeat on your face. Surely Eden hadn't heard anything good about you. "You did?" you answered. Eden spun around, and this was the first time you actually got to see his features - piercing blue eyes and dazzling blonde hair. His face was divine yet hardened, like a warrior ready to go into battle. Your mouth opened to say something, anything, but the words failed to come out. Eden spun back around, his eyes locked on the world below as he began to pace again. "Yes, I've heard of your time spent looking at Earth. The Earth is quite fascinating, young one, but also very cruel." You scrunched up your face in confusion, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. Eden spoke again, "I can feel your confusion, young one, your longing, and that's why I've called you.”

Your heart fluttered with anticipation as you waited for his next words. Finally, the words left his mouth. I'll give you a chance, y/n. I'll assign you a life to protect." You were frozen in disbelief. It seemed too good to be true. You blinked, expecting it to be some cruel joke from Eden, mocking your desire to be anywhere but here. "What do you mean?" you managed to ask. He motioned for you to come closer. As you approached, your eyes locked onto the same sight as Eden's. A woman, average height, with the same radiant skin complexion as you and long curly hair pulled into a side braid. "She's beautiful," you said, a warm smile spreading across your face. Eden nodded. "But she's not the one for you. I have a more interesting assignment in mind." You turned to face Eden, tilting your head in confusion. "More interesting?" you thought to yourself. Curiosity and excitement surged through your body. "Look," Eden said. The door of the house swung open, revealing another human. A boy. His hair resembled his mother's, but hung on both sides. His jawline was sharp, and he appeared to be around your age in human years. He also had a striking resemblance to the beautiful woman. It suddenly dawned on you: she was his mother.

"Hmm," you hummed, your curiosity piqued. Eden then locked eyes with you, his gaze intense. "Miles Morales, 16-years old in human years, has lost his father. He's a special case, and I am entrusting you with his very life. Do not fail me," Eden said firmly. In a flash of bright light, Eden disappeared, leaving you with a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

You sighed, settling onto the soft, fluffy clouds beneath you, watching the life form that had now become your responsibility to protect. The weight of being a protector now seemed like too much to bear. You had always dreamed of experiencing life among the humans, but you had never imagined it would come with such responsibility.

It was nighttime in the human world. Time didn't really matter in this realm, but you watched as Miles, the name of the boy that Eden mentioned, was snug in his bed. You decided that now was the perfect opportunity to cross over and observe the boy, familiarizing yourself with your new duty. As you stood up and stretched your wings, you could hear the soft rustle of your feathers. With a heavy heart, you took your first step, saying bye to your heavenly home. A tear rolled down your face as a bittersweet feeling washed over you. You gracefully glided through the cold void between the heavens and the earth, feeling goosebumps all over your body. You couldn't help but wish for a better way to travel to the earth but you made it. The bedroom of Miles Morales.

Please leave comments if you’ve read😭 let me know if you liked it and what you’d like to see next in this series

Copyright © 2024 xxoxobree. All rights reserved.

[hareofhrair]

A Shadow In The Room - Shadow Creature x Fem OC 2POV

Reposting some of my old terato/xeno stories from back before the porn ban! This was a request for a shadow person boyfriend. eh, it's alright.

You've had a long day at work, but your shadow person boyfriend is there to make you feel better.

You can find more of my work on my Patreon!

Tags and Content Warnings: Established Relationship, Consensual, Shadow Person, m/f

You knew he’d be there the minute you shouldered the door open, exhausted from work and dragging your feet. The moment you crossed the threshold your skin prickled and the scent of damp earth and cool water filled your nose. There was a kind of chill in the air that followed him, a scent like darkness and rotting leaves. You’d found him out in the deep woods and no matter where he went now the air of the forest at night followed him.

Sure enough, you’d barely let the door close fully behind you before you felt his arms close around you from behind, pulling you against his broad, solid chest. You felt his lips, then his teeth at your throat, and his hands over your stomach, wrinkling the fabric of your work shirt. His skin was cold, his teeth sharp. His hands were deep, midnight blue and shaped like no human who’d ever lived, long and curved like dark talons. That was the most you ever saw of him. He was always behind you, that living shadow. You saw glimpses, glowing eyes in the dark, horns sometimes- but never more, not even after all the time you’d been together.

You weren’t sure if you could rightly call it a relationship. Certainly, he had his way with you often enough. You could feel him now, hard already against you, grinding into your backside. But you knew so little about him. You stumbled across him that night in the woods and made a joke in a shaking voice because you’d never had the most rational responses to fear. He’d laughed, and you’d kept talking because you thought it was all that was keeping you alive. He’d let you go, and a week later he’d been in your kitchen, wanting to talk again. And gradually, over these periodical visits, you’d stopped being afraid, realizing he was just bored or lonely, not there to kill you. And after a while he’d started talking back, telling you stories about years in the shadows, a strange life you couldn’t quite conceive of. He never gave you the full story, just bits and pieces, like your glimpses of his appearance. You weren’t sure if he didn’t trust you or if remaining always obscured was a condition of his existence. Both seemed equally possible.

Eventually, one lonely night, he’d touched you and your relationship had taken this unusual turn. You were hardly complaining. Except that now he was pulling away, leaving your skin even colder than his chilly touch. You knew better than to turn back to look at him. He’d know you were pouting without you having to. You felt the ghost of his kiss on the back of your neck.

“Go and bathe,” he said. “The outside world clings to you. I want to smell your skin.”

You laugh. It seems like you’ve been laughing around him since the beginning.

“I would be in there already if you hadn’t decided to jump me at the door,” you said, and you feel his hands on you again, squeezing your backside.

“But then I would not have been able to properly impress on you that you should hurry.”

You laughed again and slipped away from him, hurrying towards the shower. You washed quickly, your thoughts preoccupied with the memory of his hands on you. You were sure he’d be in here with you if he could, but he hated the bathroom. The lights were too bright and he despised mirrors. So you rushed, the exhaustion of the workday forgotten. His visits had been rare these past few months. You’d been tied up at work and he was always preoccupied around this time of year when “the burden of the ancient weird is commended once again upon my shoulders,” or so he said, whatever that meant. His language tended to get increasingly formal and archaic when he was being evasive. Regardless, it had been more than a week and you were eager to feel his touch again.

You scrubbed at your hair with a towel quickly, considered taking a moment to put it up or throw on some eyeliner. But you knew he wouldn’t care. Appearances were beneath his concern. It was a relief sometimes to remember that he would never judge you for not caring enough to shave your legs or enjoying cupcakes more than jogging.

You forwent clothes entirely and dropped your towel at the bathroom door, barely taking two steps towards the bed before he was behind you, sweeping you off your feet in a flurry of shadows. You felt the chill of him against your back as your face met the cool sheets of your bed. His kisses, chilly and sharp with the scrape of his teeth, roll down your spine like a shiver. His hand is on the back of your head, and another on your hip, keeping you in the position he likes best. There are other hands, because of course he has others, on your thighs, your wrists and ankles, running nails over your ribs. He only seems to have one mouth from what you can tell however, and mores the pity, because it’s slipped over the curve of your ass now to press cold against your burning lips. His tongue slips through your folds like a chip of ice and makes you gasp for more than one reason. It’s a good thing you always enjoyed temperature play. He can’t help being cold as a winter night. He says, in his sentimental moments, that you melt him.

You grip the sheets and muffle your moans as he teases you, icy tongue and cold fingers working you up to the edge of what you can stand. When he feels you shaking one of his hands takes your throat and pulls your head back so that he can hear your hoarse cries as he finishes you. His cool hands rub circles over your shoulders and thighs as you come down, head spinning. He’s patient as the night, and he waits until your breathing evens and you begin rocking back into his touch before you feel him loom over you.

He slides against your lips, cold and stark against your heat. For a moment he only rolls against you, making you wait, until you’re almost desperate to feel him inside you. When at last he presses in, he’s so cold it almost burns, but you love it. He cools your fever as he spreads you open with a cock that is never quite the same size or shape, that changes every time you’re distracted by his hand on your clit or his lips on your throat.

It’s frantic at first, as it usually is. He seems to have a hard time holding back when he first gets inside you, and the rapid, pounding pace quickly dissolves any self-control you had either. But just when you think you’re close to your limit, he pulls back. His movements slow, his once wild thrusts becoming long, lingering slides, grinding deep within you, taking his time, drawing it out. You love this part the most, when he’s tender with you, even though you know it’s not in his nature. You ache, desperate to return to the peak you’d so nearly achieved, but you’d never rush him, not when he’s laying cold kisses on your neck and rolling his hips against you that way, more hands than you can keep track of drawing soothing circles over your skin. When he takes you like this, it feels like you’re coming apart at the seams, just puzzle pieces in his hands. You love him in these moments, though you’ve never said the words. Neither has he, though you suspect sometimes. You think he knows, despite your silence. You hope he knows.

He begins to pick up speed again, though he remains gentle. He’s close, and you shake, tightening around him. Suddenly, you feel a cool touch over your eyes. You’d had them closed anyway, but now you sense only darkness beyond your closed lids. You feel his hand on your hip, turning you over. You gasp, reach out to stop him. Visions of Cupid and Psyche come to mind. You fear seeing him, not because of his appearance, but because not seeing him has become some kind of nebulous rule of this arrangement and you fear breaking it means losing him.

But the cool hand remains over your eyes, blinding you. He turns you on to your back and you feel suddenly exposed in this position, vulnerable, your feelings and insecurities bared to him. He kisses you, deeply and properly. You don’t think he’s ever kissed you on the mouth before. You accept his kisses with the fervor of a worshiper and feel him slide back into you, rocking into you with quick, short strokes while you discover the cool darkness of his mouth, the icy clarity of his tongue. Another tiny fragment of him, a gift. You remember the Blind Men and the Elephant, putting together the shape of a living thing from small pieces. Your head is full of stories tonight. Full of him. You don’t mind if you never see all of him at once. Everything he’s willing to give you is more than enough.

You feel him pulse and swell within you and you wrap your arms around something like shoulders, press your face to something like his chest, feel fur against your cheek and scales under your fingers and feathers brushing the trembling skin of your stomach. The disparate pieces of him seem further apart than ever. Have you done this to him? Scrambled him this way? You don’t think he minds. He moves faster, pulling your mind back to the present as he squeezes your hips and buries himself deep within you. You feel a coldness like ice spill within you and you shiver and smile. He stays within you, rubbing his thumb over your clit, until he feels you tighten around him again and tip over the precipice of your own orgasm. Your darkened vision goes briefly white as you arch up into his touch and come down shaking and dizzy.

He doesn’t usually linger long beside you in bed, though he often waits just beyond it, sharing idle conversation while you recover if not his touch. But tonight when he pulls away from you, what he left inside you becoming frost on your thighs and melting away, he lays down beside you. You roll onto your side and he presses into your back, his favorite place. His arm around you is cold, but all you feel is warmth.

“Did you know I used to be afraid of the dark,” you said, laying your hand over his. “When I was little. It terrified me not to know what might be there in the room with me.”

“And now?” he asks, his grip loosening a little, as though afraid he is about to have to let go.

“Now?” You consider your words carefully for a moment, but his chest against your back makes you feel bold. “Now, if you asked me to, I might blind myself to be with you.”

He holds you tighter, and for a moment you think you might feel the whole of him pressed against you. Not just the part touching your back, but far beyond it, more than your eyes would ever be able to understand. He’s as vast and unknowable as a forest from the dawn of history, where some ancestor of yours might have stood on the edges, looking into that deep unfathomable darkness. What might you have felt, looking at an ocean of trees that have been growing since before your earliest ancestors walked the earth? Since the moments when what we might tentatively call a tree first came into existence? The first forest, untouched. That’s what he is to you. The spirit of that lost place, untouched by time.

“You would regret it,” he says. “The novelty would wither with time and you would resent me for taking you from the light. In the darkness, you would only see all the other lives you might have lived.”

“Maybe,” you agree. “I think that happens to everyone eventually, though. I think that’s just getting older. Working through it is part of being alive.”

“It’s not a part I’m familiar with,” he confesses.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure him, and bring his hand to your lips to kiss the backs of his cold black fingers. “We have all the time in the world.”

[holdinbacksecrets]

Hiii! I have a little idea for a request but nothing too specific. Just Jk and his s/o being each other's biggest comfort place 🥺 Thank youu! I gotta say, I've read your pieces and they're gold!! 👏 My favorite blog on this site! Thank you for sharing it all with us 🩷

greetings! thank you so much for requesting and sharing kind words! i’m thrilled to know you’ve enjoyed my pieces 🥺 i hope you like this one too 🖤

you’re alive in autumn. the earth embraces you, tells you your existence is marvelous, and you always breathe easier when you meet these months again.

this morning, the air is crisp, saturating your living room in freshness created by the dew left behind after dawn’s rain.

your coffee is hot, swirling steam that warms the palm hovering above it. you’re passing time, twiddling your thumbs, watching minutes tick by on the wall clock.

jungkook’s not late. you can’t remember a time he ever was, but you’re his excited girlfriend. a girlfriend who’s known a heavy missing for weeks with a thick distance between the two of you. but today is the day, marking his return, and restoring a warm balance not even autumn can gift you.

you’re pouring a second cup of hazelnut brew when the lock clicks. you nearly squeal, maintaining composure until his hello meets your ear. the greeting holds excitement that matches your own, sung with joy.

“jungkook,” you breathe his name in the moment you’re scooped up by strong arms. your favorite arms in all their comforting, safe familiarity.

with your face buried in the crook of his neck, he spins you around, but doesn’t let you down once his feet are planted on the kitchen floor. your legs wrap around his waist, fingers combing through shorter hair than what he left with. you smile, giggling against his skin at the pure bliss of this scene.

“you’re back. thank god you’re back.”

he squeezes you, mumbling words of gratitude, making you laugh when he shares how happy he is to smell you again. “i swear i’ve missed it. hotel pillows don’t smell like your shampoo. i bought a little travel bottle, then i started knocking out fast- couldn’t remember pulling the sheets over me.”

your backside meets the granite of your kitchen counter, and you peel yourself away from him, feeling the stickiness between you, feeling your body begging for more already.

his thumb fans across your cheek, crossing the rosy apple, enjoying its softness.

“you weren’t the only one having trouble sleeping. i thought sleeping in your clothes would be good enough… i drowned my sheets in your cologne and ordered an extra long pillow to hold.”

you squeeze his shoulder, letting your head fall to rest against his chest. jungkook’s lips meet the top of your head. “we’re so used to being together now.”

“mhmm, and i love it. you’re my favorite person.”

jungkook’s hands run mindlessly up and down the length of your back, and you lift your head to find his lips.

your kisses create some kind of magic.

his tattooed hand flattens against your back, bringing you chest to chest. your fingertips are in his hair, and your bodies fall into a perfected rhythm.

somehow, you’ve been this lucky. somehow, you’ve realized all your ragged edges were sculpted purposefully, awaiting the day they would meet seamlessly with jungkook’s. your lips together is one reminder, and it’s been fun uncovering all the others.

his touch is your comfort as your voice is his.

his eyes are your compass as your smile is his.

your fears can tumble out messily and he will sit beside you, sorting them out together, smoothing the intimidating blurs.

his uncertainties taint dreams, taking off in the night, but you don’t mind his gentle waking, talking through splintered thoughts together until their endings have mended.

from the beginning, the two of you have been well aligned. it just took time to realize you fit together so beautifully. things you were afraid to say and sides you were afraid to show brought you closer.

now you’re close like this. close enough to kiss. close enough to laugh and yearn. close enough to unwind and hit pause. close enough to know even your time apart is a luxury because you miss and you crave, and you can’t wait to be back together. you can’t wait to make more love and discover another curve that meets his bend.

[wrathofrats]

Yeah hi idk what this is I blacked out and came to and this was in the docs

Uhhh basically ifrits first church service and communion as hosted by Omega and alpha

Or omega baptizes ifrit and alpha lets ifrit drink the blood of Christ from his cunt.

Major warnings for intense blasphemy, mockery of the Catholic Church, degradation and religious shaming.

Also alpha is trans because WHY NOT

Ok enjoy.

-

A strong stream of incense wafted into ifrits senses.

The thick air of dust and smoke invaded him, his vision and hearing feeling more cloudy than usual.

He knelt on the carpeted steps to the church stage. Omega standing a couple of feet in front of him and looking impossibly large at this angle.

“What do you ask the church for your summon?”

He doesn’t think he should be looking up. Omega looms directly over him, staring at alpha who sits behind him. He acts as some sort of guide, as some sort of owner of ifrit, like he’s in charge of him.

Ifrit truly cannot make out alphas answer, the words tumbling over his head. Only the low tone of alphas voice penetrates the anathemic fog that surrounds him.

“Are you willing and able to fulfill your duties to bring up your summon in the satanic faith?”

A cold draft creeps down ifrits back as alpha moves to sit next to omega. He doesn’t look at his summon, he stares only up at his own form of deity. The shadows cast across his face make him more demonic, more monstrous than usual.

He reaches down and puts his wrist to alphas mouth, forcing him to sink his fangs into the rich vein of liquid. Omega serving as some metaphor for the word of their lord, his existence meant to praise someone higher but forced down with his own hands being covered in blood.

A warm wet thumb swipes across his forehead. Omega using the blood that drips down his wrist to mark him with the sign of the cross. It’s comforting in a horrific way. The warm sinister smiles of the church combined with the macabre comfort of the blood dripping down his face.

Ifrit thinks he too would bleed for the church if it held him tight like this.

“Do you renounce god and all of his empty promises?” Omega holds his book high with one hand, the other reaching down to unbutton the pants of his uniform. He’s already hard, a true testament to his devotion and love. It’s admirable.

Ifrits hand plaster together in front of him. “Yes father”

“Do you believe in the almighty father, the creator of the earth and all its demonic beings?”

A drop of precum beads at the head of omegas cock, long thick strokes milking himself of the holy liquid. Ifrit truly can’t help but stick out his tongue, desperate for a taste of their sick purity.

The book snaps shut. A screaming echo in the old room. Alpha doesn’t look up in fear of what has angered omega, ifrit being the antithesis and staring his leader in the eye in confusion.

“You’d think you’d know better from the pits. Rotten children don’t deserve to be saved”

The moisture leaves the fire ghouls mouth. He’s confused, scared, ashamed for being so greedy.

“You’re disgusting, I’ve let a sinful being kneel in front of me, offered to cleanse you of your blasphemous ways and you’ve repaid my kindness by being a greedy whore?”

“Father I’m sorry please forgive me-“ ifrits stammers out his apology through forming tears. Omega words cut deep through his devotion and lets it bleed through him, taking over his need to be.

“I hope your knees are raw. I pray you repent”

The book opens again and omega scans it for the place he stopped, continuing to stroke himself just above ifrits face.

He can’t tell when he becomes close, the act of masturbation only serving as a ritual to please his higher lord.

“There is no god that can give you your purity back”

Omega cums hot and thick across ifrits face and chest. Ropes of holy water landing on his cheeks, blessing him, baptizing him of his former demonic ways from the pit. He can feel the sin lift from his skin and burn with the holy liquid.

A rough sleeve wipes ifrits eyes, tilting his chin to smile at him.

“You’ve done well, you may savor the blood and body of Christ now as a child of the dark church”

The unmistakable sound of someone undressing comes from behind omega. Alpha rids himself of his clothing as omega slots behind him, both still perched on the carpeted stage and stairs. Candles and golden objects surround him like his own altar, his own ritual of body and blood.

Alpha opens his legs with a push from omega, hairy thighs leading up to his cunt, shining and on display. His clit engorged with devotion and peaking through his folds. Omega picks up a golden chalice, holding it high above his head, the other hand spreading alpha for ifrit to see.

“Through him, with him and in him, in the unity of the dark spirit, all glory and honor is yours almighty, forever and ever”

“Amen”

Omega tips the chalice over alphas chest, letting the red wine trickle down his body to pool between his legs. It stains his skin a crimson red, a stream from the top of his neck to his thighs. No doubt some kind of blood lain metaphor

“You may take your first communion my ghoul”

Ifrit doesn’t hesitate, dives between alpha legs to lap up the wine from his cunt, sucking the sweet liquid from his t dick. Alphas slick mixes delicately with the blood of Christ. His smoky musk catering the bitter sweet taste of the intoxicating alcohol. Ifrit truly cannot tell what he’s more drunk off of. The wine or the devotion he feels to his own lord.