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flwerr-ss · 25 days

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Listen To Your Prayers..

yandere!Morax

summary ; dragons are very known for their possessive behavior, especially to their treasures, but does that apply to the great Geo Archon, Morax? yes! how could he even think of resisting, the urge to possess and claim the beautiful treasure, and what could be better then the digitally dear like you, who would look up at him like he hung the stars

cw! - monster fucking, mild non//con, dub//con, possessive behavior, unhealthy mindsets, servant reader, sacrilegious themes, power dynamics

As a servant of the geo archon, you had given your whole heart, body, and soul in serving him as your dear god no matter the task, you would digitally complete your assigned task. no matter the hard labor you would still give your soul even to the littlest things. your prayers of passion and worship would be nothing but holy. Maybe one would call you obsessed, but you were more than willing to bear that title because when you performed this act of faith you couldn't help but feel like you were complete.

At least that what’s you assumed but who would have prepared yourself, as if your faith would break down in the hands of the one you would worship until your knees would ache, and the losing feeling in your hands from the tight clasp you keep while you prayed to the one who would destroy your being, and take away the last bit of purity you would have left and being faced with the task of servicing the one and only Rex Lapis, you couldn’t help the feeling of your legs wanting to collapse onto your knees, or the ways your hands watered with sweat, and the loosening of the grip you had on the bucket of water, the water in the bucket threatening to spill past the top as every movement of your feet pushed the movement of the ripples of water into waves.

You took a deep breath as you approached the entrance of gold, and intricate designs of architecture seeming very much perfect of the god himself. you looked upon the chamber door, and you noticed the guards of the entrance not once dared to make direct eye contact, and you didn’t try either but instead kept your head down and continued to be so silent. you finally lifted your head to face one of the guards who simply gave you a small nod, he seemed to notice your attire and considered you safe and not a danger, and then he opened the chamber doors, and then you continued trying to ignore how your legs felt like jelly and how your heart raced, like it was trying to rip itself from out of your ribcage

And as your feet made the soft creaks against the hard wooden tiles, the closer you got to the room where the one who you worshiped would resign, you couldn’t help that some anxiety that would blossom in the pit of your stomach, to grow and grow, and only then did you see him, you couldn’t but feel like you were going to collapse on the ground, his eyes that lingered, the eyes that are like an ocean of honey, the golden amber shining brightly like the moon in a dark sky. they were so bright, so captivating like you were losing yourself in a puddle that would descend into a deep ocean

You quickly realize you were staring when you heard a deep chuckle, you felt so embarrassed, did you already ruin your first meeting with your god? How could you atone for the sin you probably committed?

“…Don’t be too afraid dear” Even his voice sounded like honey, like a sickening sweet, one that would cause cavities. it was hard to distinguish the slightest hint of change in his tone when you called you dear, maybe due to the fact your savior is even speaking to you? if only you had listened just a bit more, and maybe persevered with your last innocence and still be oblivious to the way your god was speaking. But how you even think of questioning anything when your god was speaking to you, with his honeyed voice, that would make any woman's legs weak

You only held your breath, you were not afraid no no, far from afraid if anything your heart felt like it was jumping out from your chest to say nothing but praises of worship to him, you could never be afraid of him. It was the fear of making him disappointed, that was making you afraid. The feeling of disappointing him would destroy your well-being, how dare you fail your god? You finally looked up to face the god and answered him politely as you should as a servant of his, just for your voice to get stuck in your throat. There laid your god, laying open many silken soft pillows along with intricate silken sheets and blankets.

He wore his nightly attire, one fitting for himself. There you could see how his hair fell along his shoulders, where they would lay across his bare chest that showed from where the hanfu was opened.

“I am not afraid my lord..” you spoke, trying to preserve your voice and not sound like an utter fool, yet even then the shake in your voice did not leave, and showed very much in your face, and Morax just grinned.

Your behavior was just so lovely. Such a sweet little thing trying her best to serve him yet couldn't keep her emotions hidden, but instead showed them upon her face, really such a precious thing…

He rested his head on his fist and stared at you with some type of hungry glint, a predator looking at his prey. His grin never faltered on his face. Your face felt warm from his gaze. His eyes that glazed over your body you could practically feel his eyes roam your body, although there wasn’t much to see with your uniform.

“um..sir Rex Lapis... I’ve prepared your water” you finally spit out, the real reason you were here was to bring him water, wipe his face clean, and make him presentable, yet it was hard to keep your nervousness down when all he did was stare.

“hm..” his eyes remained on you, as his face made one of remembrance, “I guess it is that time of day...and assuming, you, my dear will be the one taking care of me?” he said with his lips curling back upwards

you quickly shook your head yes, scared that maybe your words wouldn’t come out gracefully, and you would be just a stuttering fool.

“then come dear..I wouldn’t want you to keep me waiting?” he said before making a motion to come closer, you quickly moved towards him, the water moving with your steps

you keep your gaze upon the floor, making sure that you do not once trip while making your way towards your god. you held your breath until your lungs began to feel that sting from the lack of oxygen, yet even then you didn’t allow yourself to be distracted, not when you were about to serve the one you worship.

you laid the bowl of water on the cold wooden floor by the edge of his bed before sitting upon your knees the same way you would when you would pray to him. you flatten your skirt to make yourself presentable and hold onto your dignity before looking upon your god, awaiting his words.

his honey-yellow eyes stared down, looking down at your figure that stood so patiently for his directed word, and he couldn’t be more pleased than now, he leaned forward towards you. the shifting of fabric being heard as he began to become closer and closer until you faced your god.

“Go on now..do your job,” he said, his voice sounding so dangerous yet you couldn’t refuse. you took a rag that rested in the water and squeezed the excess water from the rag with a twisting motion, your hands shook and you could feel a drop of sweat drip down your face, you took a deep breath before slowly lifting yourself from your knees, and faced morax. your hand shook as you brought your hand towards his face, fear of water droplets dripping onto him, the warm water touched his face and you slowly and gently pressed the rag against his cheek. softly you moved the rag across his soft skin. never once pushing too much, not daring to be rough on his skin.

morax closed his eyes in relief, the warmth hitting his skin, as the wet rag glided over his skin, softly cleaning any lingering dirt or sweat that might have laid on his skin. your eyes stayed focused on his skin, trying to not get any water remnants on his clothes, or anywhere, it might be inconvenient for him.

you focus deeply on trying to fulfill your duty, not noticing how his eyes have opened and stared at you, looking deeply at your reflection, his lips slightly curled upwards before he spoke.

“come closer..you can’t get your job done if you are far away..” he said. your eyes widened, Have you already failed? had you already disappointed him? you quickly listened to his words and apologized

“I apologize..my lord,” you said, trying to ignore the shake that lingered in your voice, the dryness that formed at the back of your throat, or how you almost collapsed when you heard his scared words, you truly are an imperfect being, that still needs to learn, you thought deeply before slowly allowing yourself to take more steps near him. Each footstep made a slight padder as you moved. You looked up at your god, the wet rag still in your hands, you felt your fingers start to prune up from how long you had been holding the water allowing it to seep into the pads of your fingertips.

You held your breath still awaiting his words to allow you to continue, it was hard to keep your composure when he kept looking at you, not once daring to speak.

“Closer,” and those were the first words he spoke, and although you allow yourself to do anything for him, it felt uncomfortable to move so close, to be that close seems like something that was not in your privilege, the air felt tenser like a heavy weight had pressed against your body, making this uneasiness wash over you. You swallowed down the air feeling a sting from how dry your throat had become, as you finally took another step further, and the once quiet floors now creaking against the weight of your foot, this only giving you more and more time for that feeling that was building in the pit of your stomach, for it to explode, and yet with this close of a distance you heard the same words, “closer..” and you couldn't help how your heart was trying to race out from your chest, tear thought your ribcage and bleed outwards in fear? You couldn't understand this feeling that had overtaken you.

And as you took another step, you could hear the whisperings of your conciseness telling you not to dare, but how could you refuse the words of your archon? You could feel sweat build up from the back of your neck, your skin forming bumps. Why were you so scared? Keeping your somewhat compuse you pushed yourself forward ignoring the gut feeling that was building up, and approached your savoir and faced him, your eyes worshiping him in their way. You awaited his words but there was never inserted you felt his hand quickly grip your waist, you couldn't even react in time with how quickly you were thrown to the soft bed

Your back hit the silky sheets, a slight bounce from the mattress pushing you up, you let out a sound, one of shock, maybe even fear. The sudden movement made you feel dizzy, so fast you were thrown, the sinking of the soft bed almost feeling like it was trying to swallow you whole, and lock you in the jaws of something that was covered in such softness, and as if you were looking at the beast himself. That hovered over you with such a dark gaze, not one of human one akin to a monster, and only then did you remember, he was not human, not a moral like yourself, you had walked yourself into the dragon's den, that was nothing but false promises.

“Rex-” and before you could even mutter out his name to ask what was the cause of this sudden behavior, you were faced with such force, your teeth clicking with fangs, that dug into your lips. Your eyes widened, you didn't know how to react. All the air that was in your lungs had left. You couldn't breathe. You shut your eyes tightly, as globs of wet salty tears crystallize in your eye ducts, threatening to spill. Your hand pushed desperately against his chest trying to create a gap so you could breathe, but your strength did nothing, the lack of oxygen not making it any better.

His tongue slid past your lips, trying to make it past your teeth, and into the wet crevices of your mouth, yet you couldn't allow yourself to open your mouth, it felt dirty, like as if it was crawling into your skin, and his saliva continued to pour into your mouth, the sickening feeling continued to build up, the lack of oxygen, causing your head to spin. You felt his hand crawl behind your head, smashing your lips even closer. The act was so forceful. It felt like he was trying to eat you alive, with the nicks from his sharp teeth tearing the soft tissue upon your lips, and in a final effort to get air, you opened your mouth to breathe. Just inhaling the fresh air sent you reeling, the air sending you in a euphoric state, but only for a short second because as soon as you opened your mouth, you allowed him access, and he took the invention.

His slimy tongue dug into your mouth, it warped around yours. This was far from human, the tongue being too long, too thin. And yet it pushed its way past your throat, causing you to gag. It was devouring you with his kiss, and when you opened your eyes to face the man, though wet tears lay in your waterline

As he pulled back, giving you what you desperately needed for space. You let out a cough, a string of saliva connecting him to you, and the pickle droplets of blood that dripped down from his sharp teeth, tore the thick layer of skin. You looked up at the one person you thought could do no wrong, yet the feeling of dread? Disgust? The need to wipe your mouth feels so overwhelming yet at the same time, shouldn't you just let him? He was your god, and you swore that you would serve him, with your body and soul –so shouldn't it be right to let him do as he pleases? This question ran through your mind in that short while that he gave you a break, yet that wasn't long-lived.

You let out a yelp when your leg was tugged downwards, your body sliding down the silk sheets with ease. He took the same leg he tugged at, and pushed it open, leaving you in a vulnerable position where you couldn't do anything but only watch. He gripped tightly at the fat of your calf, his nails just slightly tearing through that thin layer. His eyes glowed as he focused on the meal in front of him. He placed soft kisses along your calf. Such soft kisses that one would mistake them for a sign of affection, but it was hard to feel that way when he looked like an animal that had you in his jaws, and his mouth opened allowing for more sloppy kisses, you couldn't help the way your body wanted to desperately wanted to push always from his touch? How could you even let your dear lord do something to you?

Yet you still throw your head back to not face the person who looks at you like some type of meat, and as he moves along your leg– upwards– you couldn't help how you screwed your eyes shut. Maybe to pretend it wasn't your god that was doing this, but was he just taking what you promised you would give when you took that holy oauth, swearing to give your body and soul to him, and isn't that what he's doing? Collecting what's his. Everything made your head spin as you tried to rationalize everything, and when that sharp pain, as one of his canines pieced your skin, you couldn't help the yelp that slipped past your lips, the stinging pain, hitting you instantly your eyes wide open, your body instantly trying to move away from the one causing you pain.

Yet in the end you couldn't move, not with his bruising grip that kept you glued down, and even slight movement of trying to escape only caused more uncountable pain. Making your eyes water, and as the warm salt tears pile up in your waterline, about to drip over the edge. You didn't know how to react, was this how it was supposed to be? For you to be pinned to the bed, with the one you serve between your legs looking at you as if you were the person to be ravaged, eaten alive...

and you just closed your eyes, keeping them closed as his hand slid further up your legs, becoming dangerously close to the space between your thighs. your teeth dug into the skin of your lip as his mouth lingered around your legs, you could feel the strain in the muscles of your thighs from being hoisted up there for so long, the sting of pain only intensified when he brought it more, allowing more room for him, as his hot mouth moved upwards, to your inner thigh, the fabric that once covered it not discarded and, now only having the flimsy fabric of your panties to cover yourself.

and with how he kissed and sucked into your skin, it would be a matter of minutes before even that fabric would become useless

you could feel such sharp canines, that dragged along your sensitive skin, a sharp inhale through your nose. It was hard to focus, and with your eyes closed to only see darkness, leaving you vulnerable to him.

your eyes widened, a sound that you couldn’t know leaving your lips, his long tapped tongue licked upon the thin fabric, you could hear him let out a groan as if he tasted the honey from the hive itself

your hands darted to the sheets, to grip something to ground yourself, as his tongue hit that sensitive nub, sending shocks of pleasure down your spine, you let it a whine. your lips trembled as you felt his hand reach up your thighs until it reached your panties, his sharp talons ripping off the wetten fabric, leaving you fully exposed

you wanted to rip yourself from this whole situation, it was hard to formulate thoughts or even try to understand how you felt about this.

your mouth opened o, as he flatted his tongue along your slit, leaving a mess of his saliva on your core. your hands gripped tightly on the sheets until your knuckles were turning white. he eyes stared at your face, analyzing your every facial expression, soaking in your pleasure.

his hands gripped the fat of your thighs prying them open, you let out a hiss at the sting of adductor brevis, stretched and strained, allowing him to nuzzle himself deeper in your core

he ran his tapped tongue, lapping at your cunt, before the tip of his tongue tapped lightly at your clit, allowing a high-pitched moan to leave your lips, with this reaction he connected his lips around your sensitive nerves. It was so stimulating for you who never once dared touch yourself because you never saw the need.

It was a painful sensation of pleasure, too much for your body to handle, your hands darted to his head, not even realizing the consequences of your actions, and desperately tried to pull at something, to get him to stop sucking. and the first thing you grabbed was something rough, you looked down, almost fully regretting it as you stared at his lust-filled graze. the pronounced horns that your hands had grabbed, the slight glow that radiated off them, and along his hands that dented into your skin. you could see the scales that showed along his face, showing his true form, something not human.

You truly couldn't understand this, and as much as you wished you could, you couldn't not when his mouth was lapping are your core, and the sounds that left your mouth in the shapes of his name, the sweet harmony of your sweet sounds, that left your lips. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You sweeten the feeling of his tongue devouring a place even if you did not dare, you could feel him flatten his tongue before licking down your slit, trailing down until getting to the source of your sweet fluids.

You heard him let out a deep groan that sent vibrations straight to your cunt. You let out a pathic whine. Feeling delirious as this new feeling bubbled up in your stomach, making your toes curl at every harsh lick that he pridefully devoured

claiming what was rightfully his. you couldn’t help the desire that tore along your stomach, wanting to explode. a feeling you've never once felt and as your mind went more and more blank, the black and white fuzziness that clouded your vision along the salty tears. you felt yourself tip and tip until fully tipping into a state of pure euphoric relief, even as the shame lingered.

“ m-my lord-“ you tried to whine out, to give a response from tattered lips, that stuck together from the dry saliva that dripped from your mouth

morax simply hummed, lifting his mouth from your dripping core, in favor of taking his time, creating light red marks that would bloom into deeper colors of purple along the skin nearest to your core. your scent still lingering in his mouth as he closed his eyes and sucked diligently into the soft fat.

and as you stared at your lord you couldn’t help but be reminded that he was no human. He was something you could never imagine. the horns that adorn his head or the rough scales that run along his skin, being only a reminder that you were messing with a god, something you, human could never understand.

and even though you believed you understood that it still didn’t compare to reality. the reality of his mouth that ran along your skin, the sharp teeth that could at any time tear into your skin and destroy your very essence.

your eyes went wide when you felt that warm slimy flesh lick at your now very sensitive nub. you let out a gasp, you were knocked out of your thoughts and faced with a deprived beast ready for his second serving.

“Pl-please, i..” and you couldn't bring yourself to say no? You couldn't even think that you felt your whole body shake and trimmer in an overwhelming sensation of something you've never experienced, being caused by the holy mouth of someone you devote your life to. You felt yourself melt deeper into this silken padded mattress as your senses soon became jumbled up into a puddle of pure and utter rapturous pleasure. And as it sent just sharp electric shocks into every single limp you could feel.

The incohesive babbles of semi-words that would break apart in your mind, no string of thoughts could fully form, the constant strain and sting on your poor nub, soaking hole, leaving no room for anything. Only his actions, as he pushed your legs further up allowed more space for his board fame. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his thinly tapped tongue pushed into your hole. Your god, the one you worshipped was the one to define you, and as if that same feeling of overwhelming ecstasy boiled up again. You couldn't control the pathic whimper that left your lips. And as he drank whatever liquids of sweet nectar from your once pure hole, something once untouched..

The rough slimy texture of his tongue continued to lap at your swollen nub. Overstimulation setting in as you let our whines, at the stinging pain that shoots up your body , right up your spine. You could feel salty globs of tears continuing to form in your water line. And as you desperately tried to hold onto your last bit of sanity, you nails digging into the sheets, the pillows, blankets. Anything to hold onto, to keep you feeling grounded as you mind flooded into the clouds of ecstasy.

And after what seemed like eternity, his mouth finally detached from your wet core, you could hear the pants of air from him as he stared at you, and then back at your cunt. He grazed, staring at the meal that lay in front of him. As if a cloud of please had clouded his eyes as he moved just slightly away. In favor of removing his nightly attire, leaving him bare for your eyes.

Your eyes scanned his body, the more you looked the more you couldn't help but awe. The intricate patterns of an archon created his arms, and his face flushed, and wet from you our liquids, and adorn with those scales that limited a beautiful golden color, yet the further your eyes trailed the more you couldn't keep back the slight fear of pain that might accompany you.

2 cocks laid almost flat on his navels, that also adorung that same golden light that gave that slight gold. One just slightly bigger than the other. Pre cum dripped from the darker colored tips, yet the most compelling part was just the sheer size of each of them. One of them looking bigger than your own forearm, although you could only estimate in the clouded judgment. It only happened when he gripped onto your ankles and yanked you down to him. You let out a wabaton gasp only then did you fully realize what was really going into you.

Laying against your unclothed cunt was the slightly smaller one, you could feel the heat radiate off, and even in your state of uncentioness? Fear? You could feel the slightest flick of excitement. Was it due to you wanting to please your lord? Or was it one of your selfish lustful reasons? You didn't know not when he was leaning into your ear. The hot breath hits the shell of your ear.

“I can't promise I will be gentle, dear..” morax said, the lack of patience showing more and more, as his hips rocked just slightly against yours. One of his cocks sliding up and down through your folds.

The tip of his cock pushed against that sensitive bundle of nerves. You couldn't help but shut your eyes at the stimulation, that was making your toes curl.

Morax observed your facial expression enjoying the look of pleasure, leaning into your lip. He presses his against yours, missing and craving the taste of them again. And in a state of pleasure you couldn't help but just melt into the kiss, ignore the how his hand trailed down where you guys would soon be connected at.

He slowly guided his way into your cunt. Your eyes went wide at the sudden stinging sensation. And the further he pushed into your tight hole, the more and more the painful feeling built. As you tried desperately to pull away from the kiss, to voice that it hurts. He simply kissed harder.

His sharp teeth dug into your lips, skin breaking until that metallic taste hit not only your tongue but his too. Which he gladly lapped at, as if he was a sugary drink.

He continued to push his cock further into your sweet tasting flower. And the farther he was in the more you could feel your cunt drool in hope to ease the pain, that only seemed to intensify. You couldn't help the tears that fall from your eyes. You desperately need to breathe.

Everything was too much. It hurt. You were being stretched further than you could even compheand. You whined inro his mouth pathicly, maybe in hope he would stop yet he didnt. He simply pushed his tongue inro your mouth.

As you tried to breathe through your nose, and the constant pain until he finally stopped pushing in. he pulled away in favor of looking at the connection point of you two. His eyes had these unfocuses as if he was another sense of existence. His eyes trailed from your cunt to your tear-soaked face, which was flushed red. He couldn't help the slightest grin he had.

You looked up at him trying to contain some air that you had lost. Yet when you swear that grin, you feel something tighten in your pit. He heard him let a groan from your walls tightening. He looked downwards looking where you and him were conjoined. His eyes went wide and feeling with this primal instict,

Pulling out leaving just his tip in, before slamming it back in. The pain and pleasure shoot up through your body like an electrical shock. The pain became more and more painful the more he slammed his hips against yours.

You were rendered utterly useless in this moment, your nails digging into his back. You could guess how that might leave marks on his porcelain body yet at this moment your mind was to puddle with the strongest sensitivtion of pain and the bubbling feeling that you had become acquainted with less than an hour ago.

And through all this, as your eyes rolled as far as they could, as your toes curled so tightly that they would turn white. You couldn't help but ask yourself had this been what you were destined for? Even as the pleasure soon overtook that painfull stinging pain

Had this been who you've been praying to?

Had this been your prayers answered?

[ a/n: sorry for the long wait! i’m pretty sure there quite a few spelling errors near the end, i was kinda rushing because i was already over 10 pages longggg so sorry for the ending :(]

#genshin smut #yandere #yandere writing #yandere zhongli #zhongli smut #yandere genshin impact #x reader #zhongli x reader #flwerr ss oneshot #rex lapis #genshin impact #morax smut

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totheblood · 1 year

Text

superposition. (three)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: ellie gives you lesson number three (she's kinda bitter about it) and you get an A+ on your test!

warnings: 18+, SMUT,(thigh riding) cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint... once again the ai audios are... just dont listen around others

read the previous part of this fic here!

a/n: this was challenging for some reason... please know i'd love feed back and all reblogs and replies and asks are welcomed and encouraged... thank you for 3k!

"i want you to want me."

You agreed to a second date with Malia.

Despite the fact that you felt something was missing from your first date, you still agreed to give her a second chance. It was a weak attempt to shove whatever you were feeling for your best friend down into the pits of your stomach, but you were failing miserably. While you sat next to her in the crowded bar, all you could think about was Ellie and how her hands traced down your stomach and thighs a week ago.

In fact, that was all you could think about the entire week and it was beginning to make you feel pathetic. Every time Ellie’s hand brushed over yours when you were walking together, or whenever she licked her lips after eating something sent your brain into a frenzy. Her mouth, her hands, her voice ran through your mind on a loop. You were unsure what ‘touch-starved’ meant but you were almost positive that it was what you were feeling right now.

Things had gone back to normal after that night, despite Ellie abruptly leaving your apartment after making you cum. She was just acting as if nothing had happened, not bringing it up again or even joking about it in the way you expected her to. In fact, when you brought up the fact that you were going on another date with Malia she smiled and told you to tell her how it goes.

It was toxic of you, but you had to admit that her lack of jealousy pissed you off. The Ellie that made quips about the date being too boring and offering to ‘take care of you’ was gone, and you were unsure of how to feel about it. She wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t your Ellie anymore. On movie night that Friday she even voted for the movie Dina picked, making your heart sink. She was pulling away from you and you had to do everything in your power to not freak the fuck out.

Halfway through the movie, you got up and began collecting your belongings, searching the couch for your phone.

“Where are you going?” Dina’s voice made you whip your head towards her, her eyes trained on you when they should’ve been trained on that stupid fucking movie her and Ellie wanted to watch.

“Uh- I’m going on a date,” you replied, turning back to the couch to find your phone and place it in your pocket. Instinctively your eye’s flicked towards Ellie, her eyes were stuck on the TV screen, intently watching the movie.

“Oh, with the same girl as before?” Dina perked up, shifting her whole body in the direction of you and startling awake Jesse who had fallen asleep leaned up against her.

“Yeah, Malia.” You gave her a smile, unsure if she could even see it in the dark room, the only light coming from the glow of the TV screen. “We’re getting drinks downtown.”

“Oh shit, you know how you get when you’re drunk,” Dina laughed to herself making Jesse groan, “You get all touchy-feely and shit. You’re for sure getting some tonight.”

This made Ellie turn to look at you, green eyes illuminated and lips pressed flat. Your heart jumped in your chest, excitement bubbling at the fact that she might still care. She looked you up and down before turning back to the movie, doing her best to ignore the conversation.

“I mean, I hope so,” you awkwardly laughed, stealing another quick glance at Ellie, “I think I may be ‘touch-starved’ or whatever that is.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind being touched by Malia, that girl is hot,” Dina whispered, so Jesse wouldn’t hear, “I saw her on campus the other day and I was like ‘Dam-”

“Can you guys shut up? I’m trying to watch the movie.” Ellie chimed in, her tone sharp. Dina playfully pushed Ellie’s shoulder before rolling her eyes and mouthing a ‘sorry’ to you and gesturing for you to go.

“See you later, guys.” You half-whispered, making your way out the door. Ellie watched as you made your way to the door, eyes lingering for a minute after the door had shut behind you.

Ellie was doing her best to be nonchalant but was failing miserably. It took everything in her to pretend that she didn’t know what you felt like, what you sounded like moaning her name. All she wanted to do was pretend nothing had happened, force a smile on her face when you mentioned going on a second date, and ignore the pain in her jaw from clenching it too much. It was much easier said than done.

It wasn’t news to anyone that you brought out a volatile reaction in Ellie. Whenever you were mentioned by someone in a negative light she had to physically restrain herself from knocking their teeth out, failing on two occasions. Whenever you were mentioned in a positive light, Ellie had to stop herself from listing all of the things she liked about you or getting jealous at the idea that someone may take you away from her. She knew she didn’t own you, but a part of you belonged to her and she knew that.

Again, Ellie waited by her phone that night waiting for you to text her that your date was over and that you wanted her to come over. She wasn’t expecting you to, but she still hoped that you would.

The date with Malia went as smoothly as last time. The conversation was good, the drinks were even better, and when her hand rested at the side of your thigh and she asked you if you wanted to go back to her place, you happily obliged. All of it was fuzzy, her frantically unlocking her door with your lips nipping and sucking at her neck, her leading you to her bedroom with girly laughs filling the room, her pressing you down into her mattress, hands pulling at your waistband, and you pushing her off the bed.

You sat up with a gasp and hand clamped over your mouth as you looked over the edge of the bed to see her sitting on the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” You quickly scrambled to reach out a hand for her, helping her to get up. You assumed she would be pissed but all she did was laugh and accept your outstretched hand. Your face had worry written all over it, your brows wrinkled and eyes wide.

“It’s okay,” she let out a breathy laugh again, shaking her head as she sat next to you on the bed, “I’m assuming you’re just not ready?”

You took a good look at her watching the way her features all sat perfectly on her face. You were ready, and touch starved, so why couldn’t you do this with her?

“I don’t think I am,” you reluctantly replied, an apologetic look on your face, “I’m just not there yet, I’m new to all of this so I think we should take it slow.”

“Of course,” she reached a hand out to push your hair out of your face, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Suddenly, the room felt extremely small and you felt the need to get out of there. It wasn’t anything she had done but the realization that you had just pushed your date off her bed was beginning to set in. You stood up quickly, smoothing out your shirt and beginning to make your way out to her living room where you had thrown your bag.

“I should go,” your voice was rushed and frantic mimicking your movements. Malia was quick on your tail, trying to reassure you in her own rushed voice, but it all came out as static to you. You turned quickly on your heels to face her, your phone and bag in hand. “I’ll text you, okay?”

You gave her a kiss on the cheek before rushing out the front door and whipping out your phone to dial the only person you knew how to call these days. You rushed down the staircase and out onto the street, pressing her contact number scared she wouldn’t pick up. It only rang once before you heard her voice through the phone.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked frantically, knowing that if you were calling her and not texting, than something was wrong.

“Um, yeah, yeah-” You breathed out, voice shaky and unstable.

“What’s wrong, Petal?” From your phone, you could hear her already getting up and getting her things together to come and get you.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you lied, “Can you just come pick me up? I’m just at Malia’s and I need to get out of here.”

There was silence on her end for a minute. “Uh, yeah. Just send me the address.”

After what felt like ages of you shaking your head and looking around for Ellie’s car, she pulled up, headlights flashing at you as she approached. You rushed to the door, pulled it open, and got in the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact with Ellie.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked again, her voice much softer this time. You turned to look at her with your arms crossed.

“I’m fine, Ellie. It just-” You took a deep breath avoiding her eyes once again. “Can you just drive?”

“My place or yours?”

“Yours.”

Ellie gave you a curt nod before turning up the radio and driving over to her apartment building. Once you got there and both made your way into her apartment, you were suddenly uncomfortable. You forgot that you had on makeup and a tight shirt and leather pants that you were definitely not going to sleep in.

“Uh, Ellie?” Your voice was small as you followed her into her room. It was much cleaner than it usually was and didn’t reek of weed like it usually did. It instead smelled like… “Did you light a candle or something?”

“Yeah, why?” She glanced up at you from her place at her dresser, searching through the drawers for something.

“No reason,” you looked around her room once again, “Just wondering why it smells so good in here.”

She gave you another quick glance and a small smirk, taking an oversized shirt of hers from the drawer and throwing it at you. “Yeah it’s Cactus Blossom. Got it on sale and Bath and Body Works.”

You opened up the shirt and looked at it, it was a ‘Nirvana’ t-shirt that you saw Ellie wear multiple times before.

“It’s to sleep in, by the way.” She joked, noticing you stare at the shirt.

“Yeah, thanks.”

When you came back from changing into Ellie’s shirt, she was in her own pajamas: a loose fitting t-shirt and oversized boxers. She looked up at you from her place on the bed, her eyes lingering on your bare legs for a moment. She pursed her lips and patted the spot next to her on the bed. Climbing back onto the bed, you sat crosslegged next to Ellie, your hands securely in your lap. Ellie put her phone down to look at you, her eyes catching on your neck.

“Is that a hickey?” She reached up, finger brushing over the purple bruise on your neck. For a moment, you watched her face fall, but she quickly regained herself as she pulled her hand away.

“Oh shit, I didn’t even realiz-” You were cut off by the sound of Ellie using your name, something she only did when she was serious or mad at you. “What?”

“Did you sleep with her? Is that why yo-”

“What? Ellie, no.” You reassured her, not understanding why there was a need to in the first place.

“So then what happened? Why are you here and not with her?” Ellie’s voice was low and carried a hint of worry with it. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for an answer she wasn’t going to give you verbally.

“She just-” You dramatically sighed, looking down at your hands then back up at her. “We were going to. Like, she was on top of me and was kissing me, and it did feel good, I’m not going to lie, but then she started to try to remove my pants and I just-”

Ellie’s face was cold, her teeth clenched and her arms crossed in front of her body. She knew she was showing herself but couldn’t stop herself. “You just what?”

“I pushed her off the bed.” You admitted, covering your face in your hands and letting out an embarrassed laugh. Not to your surprise, Ellie was laughing too, a big hearty laugh that came from her chest. If you weren’t so embarrassed you would be basking in the sound, your heart leaping out of your chest and into hers. Instead, your face remained hidden by your hands as you shook your head.

“Hey, Petal,” Ellie managed to get out in between laughs, reaching for your wrist and pulling them from your face, “Let me see that face.”

You dramatically pouted, causing her cheeks to redden and grow with the grin she was giving you. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, alright? Hey, if I was dating someone that boring I would push her off me too.”

Ellie watched as the smile came back to her face and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“She’s not boring.” You reminded her.

“And you’re back.” Ellie teased, rubbing the inside of your wrists with her palm.

“Maybe I need another lesson,” You whispered, eyes not leaving hers, “Maybe I’m just not good enough yet.” Something dark flashed over her eyes before she gently tugged your wrists towards her, causing you to lean over on your knees, ass in the air.

“Are you sure you need another lesson?” She whispered, bringing her face close to yours. “Or do you just want me to be the one to fuck you?”

Your tongue caught in your throat, mouth going dry as you looked down at her lips.

“Just a lesson, Ellie.” You gulped. “I’m dating her.”

“Yeah, but you’re fucking me.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss at the side of your lips, causing your eyelids to flutter shut and for you to hum. “Just admit what we both already know. I’m the only one you can get wet for.”

“Yeah, but that could change. You’re my frie-” She cut you off by releasing your hands from her grasp, causing you to fall forward into her. In one swift motion, her hands caught your face, bringing you up to her lips to kiss you. It was messy, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance. Her knee came up in between your legs, pushing you forward, causing a groan to fall from your lips into Ellie’s.

She sucked on your bottom lip, one hand leaving your face to pull you on top of her by your waist. You sat with your legs on both sides of Ellie’s thigh, humming when her lips made their way to your neck. Carefully, she sucked over the purple mark left by Malia in an attempt to cover it up with her own. Your hand grabbed onto the back of her hand shoving her into the crook of your neck, letting a “Fuck, Ellie,” fall straight from your lips.

Pulling back from you she examined her work, content with the dark and larger bruising caused by her. Her eyes traveled back to your face, smiling at your swollen bottom lip and sweat beading on your forehead. Her chest was rising and falling dramatically, mirroring yours.

“I’ll give you another lesson,” she panted, lifting the thigh you were sitting on, causing you to stifle back a moan. “Oh, fuck..I’ll teach you how to ride. How to fuck yourself against my leg. That sound okay?”

“Mhm,” you responded, eyes glassy and anticipation stirring inside you. Both of her hands were placed at your waist firmly as she slowly moved you forward.

“What you have to do is,” She began, looking down to where you sat down on her. In the heat of the moment, neither of you had realized that you were dripping onto the skin of her thigh, straight through your panties. “Fuck, is this from that alone?”

When you nodded, Ellie blushed leaning forward to press a kiss on your cheek, hands still on your waist. “You really are touch starved, Petal.” She pressed another kiss on your neck, making you whimper and her grip tighten.

“You just have to rock your hips back and forth,” Her hands fell down to your waist, guiding you to rock back and forth against her. “Slowly, okay?” Nodding, you began rocking back and forth, eyes closing as you whimpered each time your clothed cunt made contact with her thigh.

“I think you could cum off of this alone.” She cooed continuing to guide your hips and giving you a gentle kiss on your jaw each time you made a noise. She was conditioning you to moan for her. “Don’t you think so?” Another kiss, another moan, another kiss.

“You can pick up the pace now, Petal.” You quickened your movements, rocking back and forth at a faster pace. Ellie brought her thigh up and pushed your hips down with her hands. She was pressing you into her, causing you to throw your head back and let out a volatile moan. She used one of her hands to catch the back of your head and pull you close to her.

Your movements began to get more jagged as you felt the familiar feeling in your stomach rise again. Her breath was shaky, her own cunt dripping at the sight of you. Your knee had begun to press into her through her clothes, causing her to let out her own moan. From the sound alone you were about to come.

“Come with me, come with me, fuck,” Her breath was jagged and breathy, but her grip on you never wavered. “Come with me, baby, fuck.”

That was all it took for you before you were screaming her name and collapsing into her, her own moan coming out much quieter than yours, and in short breaths. Your hands rested on her shoulder, as your head hung low and you crawled off of her. With deep breaths, you leaned back against the headboard, almost ashamed to look at her.

“Was that okay?” Your voice was small, unsure of itself.

“Yeah, yeah, that was uhm-” She turned to look at you and gave you an exhausted smile. “That was good. You did good. A+ for you.” You both let out exhausted laughs.

After she got you cleaned up, and you didn’t mention the fact that you were going on another date with Malia, you both fell asleep silently in her bed. Again, she pretended it hadn’t happened and turned off the side table lamp as she watched you pretend to sleep.

ai audios:

#mine #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 38

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I've been awake since 2am.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

After breakfast, you get ready to go into town with Frigga and Hela upon their vaunted ladies’ trip. An air of uncertainty persists around what exactly that means. Flowers, shopping, and what else?

You try not to let the mystery overshadow the Odinsons’ hospitality. You’d hate to come across ungrateful after all they’d done. Odin and Frigga hadn’t asked for anything in return all while receiving you with an open hand. Just like with all things, you go along to get along.

The drive has you in a sort of trance as you watch the landscape pass. The lush greens and speckles of violet and pink across the fields, thickening to looming forest of coniferous pines and towering oaks. Finally, the wilds thin into even ground and open into a township with a painted wooden sign.

The buildings are old but well-kept. Not like the large city with its pitted brick and steaming sewers. Every street here is like those that surround Laufeyson’s own estate. Curated and pristine. Just like the Odinsons themselves.

You pull in at a large gated lot. The iron barrier is overgrown with flowers and as you enter, you gape around at the expanse of petals and stems. You’ve never been anywhere so spectacular.

You trail behind Frigga as she browses the selection. You shy away from Hela but she’s hardly concerned with you as she admires a bunch of dark roses. You peer around as an assistant approaches at Frigga’s signal.

“What do you think, dear?” Frigga calls to you, “we want white for the event. Lilies, baby’s breath, gardenia?”

You blink and give some thought, “what about daisies?”

She smiles, “daisies, so simple but pretty.” She turns to the assistant, “do you have many?”

“We should have a few boxes ready for delivery,” she answers.

“Wonderful, we will have some daisies. Oh, and we could have some wisteria hanging. Mm, and miss, white tulips? You have those too?”

The assistant scribbles on her pad, “we can do those as well.”

“Hydrangea,” Hela insists as she approaches, standing behind you, “for the posts.”

“Yes, certainly, hydrangea,” Frigga repeats with a sharp point to the assistant. “Oh and lastly, I spoke with Val about the moonflowers, tell me they’re ready.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson, we have those set aside already.”

“Good, good,” Frigga remarks, “well, we’ll look around a bit more and let you know if anything else is required.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson,” the assistant nods and prompts strolls away.

“You wouldn’t like a splash of red, mother? Maybe some black?” Hela muses, “this Walpurgisnacht will be blinding.”

“Oh, tosh,” Frigga dismisses, “we have a theme. Which reminds me, darling,” she turns to you, “do you have a white dress packed?”

“White?” You blink, “um, no, I didn’t…”

“Not to worry, it’s why we came to town,” she tweets.

“Oof, mother,” Hela cringes.

“Well, I know you certainly don’t have suitable attire,” Frigga reproaches.

“Actually, I’ve a marvelous white jumpsuit selected for just the event,” Hela challenges, “I can listen, I just often choose not to.”

Frigga gives a pinch look before she returns her attention to you, “well then, our task will be easier. I think chiffon might be nice…”

“You know, mother, I do feel as if I’m being replaced,” Hela snickers. You send her a guilty look but her smile holds no malice. She winks and arches a brow. “And yet I do think this little creature will look delectable in white.”

“Mm, yes,” Frigga side-eyes her daughter, “you do have a way with words, don’t you?”

“Oh, pardon me, I should be more like my brothers, would you prefer Thor,” Hela mocks and reaches for your hand, taking it as she caresses it emphatically, “oh lady, you are beautiful, I should wonder if what you hide under your skirt is equally as stunning–”

“Hel,” Frigga exclaims, mortified as she snatches her grasp away from you.

“Ah, alright, Loki,” Hela clears her throat and stiffens her posture, adjusting a non-existent tie, “yes, you are rather adequate. Hm, very acceptable.”

“Don’t,” Frigga commands, “you didn’t have to come if you’re only going to make a joke of it.”

“Oh, mother, that’s simply what it is, a joke,” Hela bats her lashes, “loosen up. Is that not what this day is for? To enjoy ourselves?”

Frigga sighs and shakes her head as she turns away. Your mouth slants as you watch after her nervously. Hela clucks and flicks her fingers dismissively, “once she has a taste of wine, she’ll let go.”

✨

You stand in the fitting room, staring dreadfully at the two hangers. One chosen by Frigga, the other by Hela. They are both beautiful but you’re not certain either of them suit you. You feel the long chiffon as you mull over the choice.

“Well, darling, let us see,” Frigga calls through the curtain.

You wince and recoil. You pull down the longer of the two, the flowy chiffon that caught Frigga’s eye. The one-shoulder cut cinches to draped skirt which drowns you. You look at yourself in the mirror and frown. The fabric seems to drown you.

You turn with a swish and pull back the curtain, stepping through awkwardly as you tug the skirt out of the way of your feet. Hela makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a gasp. Frigga fawns and daintily touches her cheeks.

“Oh, gods, that is gorgeous, isn’t it?” She comes forward and pinches a fold in the skirt.

“She looks like she’s caught in a snowstorm,” Hela muses, “please, she won’t be able to do much in all that.”

“I suppose,” Frigga backs up and folds her arms, “but I like the style, perhaps we might find something similar with less length.”

“Try mine,” Hela demands.

You look between them, not daring to argue with either. They seem to do enough of that. You spin and sweep behind the curtain once more. You shed the chiffon layers and pull on the satin sheath. There isn’t much to it. Thin straps and not much length, a slit up your thigh. It’s more lingerie than a dress.

You peek out shyly before you make yourself come out. Frigga’s face flushes and her lips part. Hela smirks and tilts her head as she bites her lip.

“Oh, fabulous,” Hela remarks.

“She cannot wear that,” Frigga throws a hand up.

“Why not, she has nice legs.”

“That isn’t… appropriate.”

“Well, mother, she can’t dress like an old matron either.”

“It was a perfectly nice dress–”

“For 1912,” Hela shoots back.

You shrink before them and let their back and forth fade into the background. You glance over the rack of white garments and zone out. You just want this to be over. You’re tired of being pulled back and forth like a game of tug-of-war.

Your name draws you back and you focus on the women watching you. You wince and teeter on your feet, “sorry, I was distracted.”

“I was saying,” Hela intones, “we should let you choose.”

“Me?” You blanch.

“Well, it is your dress,” Frigga utters reluctantly.

“Oh, but I… don’t know much about… clothes.”

“Never too late to learn,” Hela insists, “go on, have your pick. Surprise us.”

You glance back at the rack and wiggle your fingers. You slowly approach as the two other women retreat, still muttering to each other. You push through the hangers; too heavy, too stiff, too sheer.

You think you like this one. A simple sheath lining with a mesh overlay, little crepe flowers sewn into the out later. The straps are slender but the bodice is straight cut. It’s wonderful and dreamy. You take the hanger and quickly scurry back behind the curtain.

You switch out the short dress for your pick. You look at your reflection and nearly stagger. You love it. It’s adorable. You go to the curtain and brace yourself. What if they don’t like it? You exhale and ready yourself for disappointment.

You step through and the women face you. Neither say a word as they look at you. They consider you, eyeing you head to toe. Oh no! It’s hideous, isn’t it? You have no taste.

“I love it,” Hela chirps, “what about you, mother? Isn’t it gorgeous on her?”

“I… it’s so… you,” Frigga squeals, “yes, it’s perfect. And the little flowers. Ugh, amazing.”

“Really?” You stand on your toes nervously.

“You must have it,” Hela insists, “next, shoes… the pairing must be perfect.”

“Shoes…” you murmur. Does it ever end?

✨

Your day doesn’t end after the boutique. The tumultuous night slumps in your shoulders and droops in your eyelids as the hours stretch on. Your next stop is a sleek white building with sparkling glass doors. As you enter, the sterile lobby has you minimizing yourself in fear of staining the pure white tile or breaking the crystal counter.

Frigga and Hela strut towards the woman who stands behind the glass table and greet her breezily. She welcomes them by name as you trail behind like a mouse. You don’t belong here. Not a place like this. You might be with them but you’re not one of them.

Once more, you sink into a daze, trying to distance yourself from the present. From those feelings of unbelonging. Those old wounds from the schoolyard when you stood by the fence and kicked rocks, not daring to provoke anyone with an errant gaze.

“Dear,” Frigga jars you as she gently touches your arm, “did you have ID?”

“ID?” You say dumbly, not processing her request at first.

“They serve alcohol so it’s required to check-in,” she explains.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you clumsily grab your purse and unzip the top. You dig out your ID card and hand it over. Frigga has a brief glance at it before handing it over. The twitch beneath her eye worries you; has it expired?

You wait as Hela taps her short nails on the counter top. Finally, the woman behind the counter approves you for entry. You still don’t really get what this place is. There’s no signs aside from the marquee in swoopy cursive; Hvergelmir.

Another woman appears and takes you through an angular doorway. You’re guided to a private room with robes on hooks, cushioned benches and small cubbies. You watch Hela and Frigga as they remove their heels and set them on the low rack. You do the same, doing everything they do at a delay.

They tuck their bags into the cubbies and undress without shame, keeping only their underwear on as they wrap themselves in the silken robes. You face the corner as you strip and pull on a robe yourself.

It isn’t until you move on to the next room that you realise what this place is. A spa. You’ve never been to one but it’s exactly like you’ve seen on television. You recline as a woman smears your face with a mask and places cucumbers over your eyes. It’s relaxing even if it feels a bit strange.

After laying there for what seems like forever, a woman comes in to offer stemmed glasses of sparkling wine. You remove the sliced veggies from your eyes and accept one in kind with the other women.

“I think I might get a wrap,” Hela declares, “I need the cleanse.”

“Mm, I think I might do the steam room,” Frigga drawls before she sips from her glass. You take a tiny sip, reminding yourself of your last indulgence and the disaster that followed. Hela downs half the glass in a single gulp.

“What about you?” Hela looks at you pointedly. “Would you like to join me for the seaweed wrap?”

“Um, what is that?” You ask.

“Oh, darling,” Frigga sits up and grabs a leather folio, “have a look. You can choose whatever you like.”

You accept the little booklet and open it up to the laminated inside. You read through each item and the description below. The steam room sounds uncomfortable, you’re not a fan of sweating, and the seaweed thing sounds slimy…

“Mud bath?” You read allowed.

“Good choice,” Hela praises, “I might join you after my wrap.”

“Oh, okay,” you close the book and put it on the small round table close to you.

Frigga picks up the small golden bell and rings it. The same woman appears and Frigga lists off the treatments for each of you. She’s led away first, then someone comes to fetch Hela, and finally, you’re taken away by another woman with a high ponytail.

The woman helps you cover your hair with a towel and hands you back your wine glass. She leads you into a room with long rectangular tubs filled with reddish brown muck. She points you to one at the end and you put your glass on the little ledge that juts out from the side.

She helps you remove your robe, “you can keep your underwear on if you like. We can provide a fresh pair after, but you may want to remove your bra.”

You nod and dip your head down to unhook your bra. She reaches to take it and you hesitantly hand it over. She hangs your robe from a hook on the wall and leaves you there. Alright, so you just get in?

You step over the high wall of the tub and lower yourself into the warm mud. It doesn’t feel too bad. You slide around slightly before you’re able to find your bearings and reclining against the slanted back. Is this relaxing?

You close your eyes but not for long. You end up staring at the lines between the ceiling tiles. You stir the mud with your fingers. You feel childish, like you're making mud pies.

You stop as you hear voices. You peek over for just a moment as someone else enters. A tall woman with a swirl of black hair escaping the towel on her head strides in, her tall figure draped in one of the ivory robes. The attendant takes her to the tub across from yours.

You try not to watch as she opens her robe, revealing her sleek body shamelessly. She eases into the tub with a sigh and the attendant leaves. You keep your eyes up as tension fills the space.

“The mud is nice today,” she says, startling you.

You nod and look at her as she stretches her arms around the walls of the tub. Her chest is barely concealed by the muck.

“You don’t come here often. I’ve not seen you around.”

You shake your head, “first time.”

“Ah,” her blue eyes gleam, “special occasion?”

“Erm, not really, I… Walpurgisnacht,” you pronounce the word delicately.

“That’s not for a few days,” she intones.

“You know it?”

“Yes, of course, everyone around here does. And this year, with Frigga hosting, it will be a spectacle.”

“You know Frigga?” You wonder.

She laughs, “of course I do. Who doesn’t?” Her tone is dry and her expression haughty, “how do you know her?”

“Um, I… work for her son,” you utter flatly.

“Thor?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you correct her.

“How amusing,” she smirks, “what’s your name?”

You answer, your chest binding up tightly. You feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her. Something about the way she grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she purrs, “I’m Sif. You might tell my ex-husband I send my regards.”

You swallow dryly and stare at her. Your heart is pounding and your ears ringing. Sif? In the flesh? She’s absolutely gorgeous. You can see why she haunts the Odinsons. She’s perfect.

Now you know why you will never live up to Laufeyson’s expectations. Why he’s so hard to please. Compared to her, well, you can never compare to her. She is immaculate.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #thor #avengers #mcu #marvel

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lunarmoves · 5 months

Text

mentions: horror themes, some blood :)

it was supposed to be a fun game of marco polo.

your hand—clammy and stiff—was clamped solidly against your mouth as you stuttered through breathing via your nose. the space you had crammed yourself into was small—barely able to hold yourself inside of it. your back was pressed against a wall, your legs were folded so that your thighs were flush against your chest. every small shift you made sounded like a gunshot in the stagnant air.

perspiration slid down the side of your face as you closed your eyes and listened carefully over the sound of your rampant heart. th-thump th-thump th-thump. it wanted to encompass everything and leave you to rely on your other senses—senses you could not use right now. not with the darkness of your hidey hole or the numbness of your hand. pain was starting to cloud your mind. you gave your head a small shake to snap yourself out of it.

you had to focus and listen.

everything was still. everything was quiet.

and then—distantly—you heard it.

"maaaarco."

a voice, disembodied and devastatingly low, rasped through the air.

you swallowed heavily, but did not respond. you didn't know what had triggered them this time. you just knew that you could not be caught. time was what you needed and even that you were not certain you had much of.

there was more silence. then, footsteps. clank clank... clank. careful and deliberate. your lips tensed together and you tried your utmost hardest to make yourself as small as possible. you made the mistake of moving your free hand—the one not clamped over your mouth. it burned something fierce up your elbow. you bit at the inside of your cheek and hoped it wasn't as bad as it felt.

clank clank clank. the footsteps grew louder. each one made you tense even further until you felt like a rubber band about to snap. "marco?!" the voice called again—this time in a higher pitched, frantic manner. "friend! marco??!!" it paused for the shortest of moments. then it took on a dangerous tone, poison lancing each and every word. "you do not seem to be f-following the rules of this game, friend."

the voice lowered. "and you know what we do to rulebreakers."

you wanted, more than anything, to be anywhere other than here at this very moment. you were starting to get woozy, and you weren't sure if it was from the lack of air in such a confined space, or the dark liquid that stained your shirt and pants. you could feel something warm trace its way down the curve of your arm—all the way to your wrist, where it dropped off with a small plip.

the footsteps—that'd been steadily getting louder—halted.

you dared not breathe.

it was a moment that felt like a century—too quiet and too nerve wracking. it put you on edge, made you dart your eyes around as though it would let you somehow pierce through the emptiness to see what was going on around you. a cold, cold feeling had long started to spread throughout your limbs, originating from the pit that'd formed in your stomach.

you waited.

and when they spoke once more, it sounded like it was coming from directly above you.

"marco," they whispered with all the danger of a lion stalking its prey. it made all the hairs on your body stand erect and a foreboding feeling to slide its way down your spine.

it was supposed to be, you thought to yourself devastatingly with a wetness lining your lashes, a fun game of marco polo.

you weren't given any time to react.

hands—as cold and unforgiving as death itself—wrapped around your arms and tugged. you were yanked out of your hiding spot with a yelp, eyes widening as mismatched lights flooded your vision abruptly and without mercy. it hurt, it hurt. and you could do nothing but hang there—withdrawing into yourself—as they crowded over your small body with a grin stretched uncomfortably wide and unnervingly thin.

"found you! we found you!" they beamed. something manic lined the edges of their smile. "f-found you, you little rulebreaker. time for—"

their voice cut off suddenly. you opened your eyes—you had not realized when you'd shut them—and stared up in surprise at their face. but they were not looking at you. they were looking at one of their hands—that'd been wrapped around your injured arm and had gotten coated with something that appeared black in the limited lighting.

you swallowed thickly. something indecipherable that'd been discoloring their optics seemed to vanish. their face seemed to slacken from its strained expression and took on something akin to... fright. and you dared to speak in a small, hesitant voice. "...guys?"

they went limp at the sound—slumping forwards onto you like a puppet cut from its strings.

"i— we're sorry," they whispered in a pained voice. clutching tightly onto you like you were the only thing keeping them rooted to the earth. "we're sorry. we're sorry. we're sorry." it was chanted with their head bowed to rest against your abdomen. as though in remorseful prayer.

you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

and you— well... you didn't say a thing.

you didn't say... a thing.

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courtingchaos · 1 month

Text

Unclean

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Warnings: Religious themes, menstruation: sex and talk of, fingering, blood in various places, allusions to physical abuse (not reader) it’s period sex!

A/N: Listen, I am an ex-for-almost-20-years-Catholic who grew up around a lot of Southern Baptist, so excuse my (probable) misinterpretation of Leviticus okay? I just think Roy Tillman is a real Old Testament guy. I’ve had this little one shot in the wings for a while and only got the guts to finish it recently. I’m also deeply aware that I am interpreting this character much differently than the fandom at large so like, peace be with you.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Nothing but low lights behind the pulpit and a few along the aisles to let you see the outline of him in the first pew. Leaned forward, still and quiet in the cold dark that seeps into the small wooden church. Outside, the calvary congregates and converses after their Sunday dinner provided by their shepherd and in here, in the small family chapel, it’s just the two of you in the glow of old bulbs. Warm yellow gives the bridge of his nose a highlight and shines off the sun bleached strands in his hair. When your footsteps reach his radius he looks over his shoulder, tense and sharp, but the golden glow reflects off his eyes to give him a softer look than he deserves.

You stop two pews back and he gives you a once over, nervous eyes flitting from your head to your feet and up again before he begins chewing on his bottom lip. “You go home?”

“Yes.”

“Why you still in your dress?”

“It’s still Sunday.”

He laughs through his nose and turns back to the pulpit, thumb rubbing lightly against his reddened lip. “Did you stop at the house?”

You step forward one more length of pew and stop again to watch him fidget with the vape in his hand. “No, Roy wanted to talk to my father so I came back out here.”

Gator hums, a twitch of his lip letting his displeasure show for just a moment. The smack of the metal against his palm is loud in the small space like the yell you know he’d like to let loose would be. Sharp and mean like his demeanor, trying to be like his father but just south of right.

“Did you eat?” You ask while creeping up beside him. The smoke from the pit nearby has snuck in through the gaps in the doorways and mingled with the dry smell of wood and old hay. This chapel has always reminded you of an attic with its exposed beams but the scent of decades old pine makes you the most nostalgic.

“No.”

“Not hungry?”

He looks up at you before he sits back against the bench, takes in your pieces before the whole of you, eyes flitting again from your open coat to the hem of your dress fluttering just below your knee. Vape set aside he reaches out to drag a finger up from your knee and under that hem where you keep some of your secrets. Lines of ink not even your parents have seen, another cut you’ve inflicted like the hundred others while trying to claw your way out of this compound.

Fingers dig into the back of your thigh to hold you in front of him, lets the heat from his palm sink in while he doesn’t answer you.

“What was this morning about?”

He tilts his head in lieu of opening his mouth.

“Roy was on his ‘god honoring woman’ kick again. Did Karen piss him off last night?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t home.” His other hand snakes between your thighs to hold higher up. “She didn’t look upset.” He drops his gaze then to stare at the yellow flowers dotted over the black fabric of your dress, the one your mother bought you as a threat veiled in a peace offering.

“A little too much Leviticus for my taste.”

“Mm.”

Your coat lands on the floor behind you and his fingers inch higher on the inside of your thigh. He seems fixed on the way your dress bunches over his wrist instead of the soft touch behind his ear where you tuck an errant strand of hair finally falling out of its place. Outside there’s a muffled uproar of laughter that makes you cast a sharp look through the foggy windows and Gator takes the opportunity to move his warmth away to pluck at the buttons at the top of your dress.

“Little low cut for church.”

“My mother doesn’t think so.”

“I’ll thank her later.” An actual smile this time as the first button slips through silky cotton, followed by two more before you stop him. The wood creaks under your knee as you shift your weight to it, sliding it up against his hip. Again his hand finds your thigh, up high to find his favorite ink, a simple black line cross that his thumb rubs small circles into.

He hasn’t noticed yet that you tucked your underwear in your coat before you walked all the way out here. Risky since this morning left you with a bloody visit and now you sit unclean under the rafters his family raised. Your dress slides up easily enough, almost up enough to share your secret, and finally he pulls you close. Tugs at you to get you over his lap, your other knee colliding dully with the bench back.

It’s like a switch with him sometimes the way his mood will turn. Sour petulance that makes you roll your eyes will break for roaming hands that map out your body. Sullen quiet suddenly loud with his wants, with his questions, with his panting and moaning. Any place he can have you but more often in places that would bring down his father’s ire if you were found.

Flush against him now he pulls you down to meet the seat of his hips before he pushes your dress up around your waist and pauses mid grope to laugh.

“Does your mother approve of this too?” Fingers move again along the crease of your hip until they reach soft curls. He catches your eye and doesn’t look away as he dips his fingers into your heat, his lip caught between his teeth again, this time with a smirk. He pushes up slow, thick fingers dragging against oversensitive flesh, his palm flat so you can grind against him. Words seem caught in his throat, probably something goading and whispered, something laughed out on a breath. You know he wants to make you blush about how wet you already are and how loud you’re panting but he changes his angle and moves his hand, pulls it back in front of himself and stops to stare at the red staining his fingers.

“Oh.” You don’t pretend to sound surprised. He frowns but doesn’t push you away like you thought he might’ve, instead he seems frozen in place and you don’t miss the blush beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “It’s okay.” You grab his fist hovering between you. “It’s okay.” You repeat and he looks at you then, wide eyes searching for something. Leaned in close you bring his hand up slow, up towards his lips parted around a whispered sound of protest.

“Is-isn’t this breaking a r-rule or something?”

He doesn’t curl his fingers away when you press them to his mouth, a long line of blood from his cupids bow to his chin. With your free hand you fumble with his belt and his pants, keeping his doe eyed gaze glued to yours.

“Your father walks in here without burning.”

Confusion has nestled its way into his features, eyes squinted at you until you wedge your hand in between thick fabric and hot skin. His gaze droops when you pull him free, mouth splitting open with a quiet gasp. You move then, sitting up on your knees to look down on him wanting and blooded, dragging your hands down his long arms along the back the of the pew outstretched to grip the hardwood with white knuckles. Fear, you think at first, from the wild print you’ve left on his face. Anxiousness maybe that he might be found like this, not just compromised but marked now, cut off from the flock finally.

“Gator…” You barely whisper and he’s chasing you upwards. Against the restraints of your hands on his wrists he pulls when your lips don’t descend to meet his.

A choked off whine, “Please.” His hips wiggle between your knees for some kind of friction, anything to get closer. “C’mon, come back.” He pleads through clenched teeth, tacky red turning matte on his full lips. It draws you back in and he smiles when you close the distance with a brush of a kiss, something light that makes him huff before you consume him.

He doesn’t taste like when you bite your cheek or suck on a paper cut. It’s a foreign taste on a familiar tongue, faint passion fruit from his habit and a metallic tinge that makes you groan into him. He feels good. Pinned like a fluttering moth looking for an escape, for a saving grace that he seems to find in your lips and the dip of your tongue. His breath comes in sharp puffs through his nose smushed against your cheek and again you hear him whine when you don’t let him raise his hands.

A shake of his head to break the kiss to get his point across to take a deep breath-

Outside there’s heavy footfalls on the old wooden steps. Both of you freeze like deer, your eyes trained on the heavy door and his boring through your chin, waiting to bolt at the first sign of discovery.

Muffled voices, a click of metal and your heart in your throat when this unsuspecting intruder has a change of pace. A muffled question. A pause. Quiet laughter and parting footsteps.

Your fingers simply drape and Gator takes the opportunity to surge into you. Hands grabbing at your hips to hold you closer, pushing you down on him. He guides himself in with his thumb, a quick brush over that ache of yours amplified through thrill and nature.

You miss him watching your face scrunch up in apprehension. Lips parted like his, pink lipstick smudged with blood, only you hiss out an “easy” that he answers with a shush. Lets his hands run back up under your dress to find his favorite little scar of ink, smearing red along the way. Almost dry now but his fingerprints in your mess between the two of you make him forget his reservations for a few minutes. He forgets the crowd outside and the house ten minutes away. Pushes the expectations away. He instead watches you relax into him, the way your hands unwind from his shirt only to feel them slide up behind his neck to wind back up in his hair. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip before you bite down on a moan when he bucks his hips up gently.

This wet heat, new to him in this taboo, draws him in when you roll your hips in earnest suddenly. You’ve angled him to find that magic spot he’s usually still searching for by this point, your head rolling back on your shoulders to ride your knees raw against the wood. The deep heat of you almost scorches him, a small voice in the back of his thoughts reminding him of hellfire and naked founts.

“Fuck.” Said out loud in the hopes of chasing away a voice tinged with vitriol and a release of the climbing pleasure up his spine. You writhe in his lap and he gropes at your hips, slides long fingers down and under to grab at your thighs. Slick with sweat you slip in his grasp, heavy breaths blown over his locks when you finally reach behind him to hold onto the bench.

The open top of your dress brushes his face enough times he bites at the buttons, finally catching them between his teeth. Through his lashes he watches your face, glued to the peek of teeth behind your lips. The way you glitter in low light and muggy air. The dip of your collar bones when you roll your body into his and he can feel you tighten all around him, core and arms and air.

A not gentle hand suddenly wrapped around his jaw, fingers prodding into his mouth to hang and pull. Wandering lips messily find his own and then trail off over his cheek to end at his ear, your peak whined against him. Pulsing that makes him hold you closer so he can chase after you to find his own end.

He’s been on the precipice since you threw your coat on the ground and all it takes is a few gentle thrusts before he chokes on a groan and suddenly he feels bottomless. No floor, no bonfires, no congregants too close for comfort. Just your face in his neck and the shared messy warmth pressed between you two.

There’s a swing of headlights over the front of the chapel that breaks whatever tandem calm you two have created. Separated wordlessly with barely a glance at the extra mess, Gator quickly readjusts his pants and you snatch your coat on your way to the small ladies room in the foyer. More muffled voices tonight that intrude on your privacy while you scrub smudged lipstick off your face and rebutton your dress, jumping only a little when there’s a knock at the door.

“You fall in?” Your father jokes on the other side.

“Give me a minute!” You snap while trying to slide your underwear back on. A final look before you walk out to make sure the surface of you is presentable, no visible marks or smudges. Out in the entryway your father gestures at you to follow and Roy gives you too long of a look when he waves. You wonder if he can see it all over your face even though you scrubbed the evidence off. Wonder if he can smell it on you two like a predator sniffing out wounded prey.

Can he see your handprints all over his son? Invisible blood that marks him different now. The tang of sin sits all over your tongue and when you run it behind your teeth to savor you catch Gator staring again. Catch him watching your hands twist in your coat pockets and his eyes flit back up to your mouth. You can feel the faded touch of him worrying at your tattoo even across a courtyard.

“Hey Gator?” You holler at him while climbing into your father’s truck. “Don’t forget dinner.” A simple smile for him before you slam the door, a break in the tension and your phone is vibrating seconds later. You wait to look until your home but it still makes you laugh even when you’re starting your laundry.

Thank your mom for me.

#Gator Tillman #Gator Tillman Fic #Gator Tillman x Reader #My Fic #My Work #Gator Tillman Smut

138 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 5 months

Text

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, jealousy, paranoia, slight non-con, abduction, violence, death

Tags: @saiyara05 @shellofthewell @sadsaidthesadthing @luna-in-love-with-you

Words: 6.5k

The CEO and her bodyguard: Pt.3

Pt.2

It was raining. It was raining as dark clouds covered up the sky as far as you vould see, hiding the beautiful blue sky from your view. You huffed out some air as you sat in the small lobby of your house. Well, it was actually a small hostel designed with some additional room for up to 10 guests but visits on this island were so rare that most of the time it was only you and your parents in here anyways. You were so bored! When was this rain going to stop?

As you sat on one of the chairs on the table whilst gazing outside the window, your head abruptly turned around when you heard the only phone in the entire house ring. You pulled both of your brows up to your forehead. It was quite rare to have some call. Nevertheless, you stood up as you walked quickly to the wooden counter and lifted the handset. Hopefully it would be someone interesting so that you could waste some time whilst waiting for this rain to stop.

"Hello?"

"(y/n)? That's you, right?"

"Oh! Aki-chan! Why are you calling? I thought that you were busy working in Tokyo for their compa...Aki-chan?"

You stopped your excited rambling due to your best friend's unexpected call. Ever since she had moved over to Tokyo in order to work for the Ito Company and you had stayed here, both of you hadn't been able to see each other as often. You had so much you wanted to tell her and had so much you wanted to ask her. But you heard just now over the telephone Aki-chan's troubled and heavy breathing. You knew that sound. Aki always took such deep and strained breaths when she was panicking. And Aki wasn't a person who panicked very easily.

"Hey...What happened, Aki? Try to take deep and long breaths."

You spoke more seriously into the telephone as your mind started racing with reasons why she would call you all of a sudden. If she sounded like this then that was a clear indicator that she hadn't just called to chat with you about how your life was going.

You heard her trying to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth for a few moments as if to gather her composure again and as desperately as you wanted to ask her what was going on, you knew better than to pressure her. Aki needed a bit time to collect herself and would most likely snap at you if you would be even a bit too pushy.

"H-Have Kaito-san and Daisuke-san arrived?" She finally managed to ask when she had calmed down a little bit although her voice still betrayed her with a hint of nervousness. You furrowed your eyebrows instantly when you heard her mentioning their names as you felt a mixture of confusion and irritation stir up somewhere inside your chest.

"What?! They wanted to come back here again? Oh my god, I thought I already made myself clear, especially to Daisuke, that I have no interest in moving over to Tokyo and working for their com-“

"Have they come or haven't they?" Aki repeated herself as the urgency and the fear in her voice became more audible. You paused when you caught on to this as you fell quiet for a while. Aki sounded scared...

"No, they haven't. I didn't even know that they were planning to visit our island." You eventually answered as you glanced outside the window.

You heard Aki's breath stutter over the phone when she heard your words.

"T-they didn't even contact you?"

"No?" You answered her as your confusion only grew.

"Aki...what is going on?" You asked shortly after as you wondered what had gotten into your normally composed and sharp friend. If she sounded that desperate that most likely meant that something really bad had happened and slowly you started feeling a heavy dread sitting in the pit of your stomach by listening to her silent emotional meltdown.

"...I-It's alright. It probably is nothing. Just...don't worry yourself with this. I'm sorry for calling you so suddenly. I don't know what suddenly came over me." Aki eventually replied as you could hear how she tried her hardest to return to her normally detached and rational tone, although you could still sense the stress even if both of you were only talking over the telephone.

"Aki! You are clearly not alright. What happened? Did...did something happen to Daisuke and his father or-"

"I have to end this call right now. Something just came up. I'm really sorry. Goodbye."

You had a perplexed and confused look on your face as Aki just hung up like this and you were left standing in the hostel, your mind reeling as you tried to understand what had just happened.

"What the heck?" You mumbled as you put the telephone down and just stared at it for a while before you let out a long sigh and walked back to the table.

Aki's words were still on your mind though as your gaze focused on the window and what you could see from it, precisely on the ocean you could see from here.

Daisuke and Kaito-san...

As you continued watching the storm and the rain unfold outside, the heaviness in your stomach only increased.

You had a very bad feeling.

~~~

"...oji? Toji! Hey, Toji!"

Green eyes zoomed in on you as he stirred awake from whatever haze his mind had suddenly taken him to. You were sitting on your office desk, a dreadful amount of files piled up on it and no less than 3 telephones placed on the already cramped space. The window behind you revealed a black sky, the lights of the city cutting through the darkness with their brightness.

His eyes darted over to the clock hanging on the wall and he let out a slight groan when he noticed the time.

01:34

“Don’t you space out on me! Your work isn’t over until I am in bed! Also, please stop staring at me.”

A look of mild surprise fell across his face when he heard your words.

“I’ve been staring at you?” He asked you as you saw wrinkles appear on his forehead as he tried to remember where he had been with his mind.

“For nearly 3 minutes. Did I do something? Is something wrong with my face?”

Toji quickly shook his head, grumbling as he tried to remember what had even gone on in his mind prior to your voice waking him up from his trance. He'd just been watching you typing, signing and talking away if he remembered correctly and then the next thing he knew, you had called him out for staring at you. He'd been staring at you again before getting lost in the sight of you, hadn't he? How many times had that happened by now?

"May I ask when the lady plans to head back home?" Toji eventually asked as he decided to switch topics before you could dig any deeper. You took a look at the watch and your eyebrows pulled up to your forehead when you caught a glimpse of the time. Quickly shock turned into embarrassment as you realised how long you had been letting him wait in here for you already.

"Oh...Give me 10 minutes." You mumbled with a sheepish smile that had his heart skip a beat when he saw you directing it to him. He let out a sigh before he leaned back into the couch, throwing his head back although his eyes were still looking at you. You continued scribbling stuff down for a while before you noticed his green eyes still focused on you.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to hurry up! Just-just play on your Nintendo until I'm finished!"

"Can't do that. The battery is empty." Toji replied casually as he lifted his hand slightly up, holding the device with its black screens up for you to see.

Great. Your shoulders slumped as you just gave him a nod. He really had nothing to entertain himself with anymore besides watching you and that made you feel a tad bit guilty. On the other hand you really had to cleanse all those schedules and appointments from your schedule to be able to take some days off. It had been years after all since you had last seen them after all.

~~~

"Your perception of 10 minutes seems to be quite different from my definition." Toji spoke up half-amused as his eyes darted back to the clock.

02:17

"I'm nearly finished. Only 5 more minutes." You muttered out as he could see how your eyes at this point were for longer periods closed than they were open as you sat hunched over your desk, reading through some files.

Your head was resting in one of your hands as it almost seemed like your head was too heavy for you to support only by your neck. You were clearly at your limit now.

"I don't think you'll last 5 minutes." Toji remarked with a grin on his face as he watched you struggling to stay awake. You gave him a tired groan as you desperately tried to focus on the words in front of you, although your sleep-addled brain couldn't grasp the bigger meaning of the sentences anymore. It felt like trying to grab smoke with your hands as you attempted to make sense of those documents. "Not yet..."

~~~

02:36

Soft breaths escaped your lips as your head was laying on the surface of your table. He wasn’t surprised by this sight. You’d been working far too long now for your standards already but for some reason you’d been too stubborn to listen to him. Normally you’d only do what you had to do before eagerly calling it a day. Those last 2 weeks you had worked suspiciously hard though and he was sure you had an ulterior motive for it. Toji did not believe you to just work for work’s sake.

He stood up from the couch and stepped quietly over to you. He bent slightly down, observing your peaceful face. He watched your eyelashes fluttering gently when one of his hands placed itself on your shoulder and carefully shook you.

“(y/n), let’s get you home.”

He whispered in a low voice as he tried to shake you awake. All he got from you was a sleepy grumble as you lifted your head the tiniest bit, your eyes squeezed tightly together as if they were a seal you refused to open.

In only a mere few seconds your head dropped back onto the table as you went back to sleeping, leaving Toji just standing over you. Honestly, he was used to you having a bit more of an irregular sleep schedule since you were a fairly energetic person but the countless hours of works had really drained you. It was rather cute though, watching you sleeping so calmly.

“Fine then.” He mumbled as he heaved you out of your chair before he lifted you up in his arms. His one hand roughly pushed everything into your handbag that you had taken with you from home before walking out of the office, switching the light off before walking down the corridors. Since it was fairly late, there were barely any people left. Strangely enough he didn’t know if he should have been disappointed or relieved about this.

A part of him somehow almost wanted the people who worked for you to see him carrying you around like he did. When his eyes laid on your resting form in his hold though, another part of him felt a biting heat somewhere in his heart that only got worse when he considered others seeing you in such a vulnerable and precious state. He didn’t want them to see you right now as you slumbered away so blissfully in his arms.

Maybe it was for the best that he really didn’t see anybody else as he headed to the car with you. He carefully placed you on the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt on for you. His body brushed against yours as he did so and he could feel your warmth even through your clothes. His heart reacted to those brushes of body against body as he felt the organ pounding faster and harder against his rib cage. He swallowed heavier than he had expected as the scent of your faint and fruity perfume filled his brain.

Dark pupils dilated a bit as your scent invaded his nostrils and he took in the sleepy and innocent sight he had in front of him. Vulnerable, defenseless and solely relying on his protection. You really were trusting him a lot, weren’t you?

His breath deepened a tad bit as his heartbeat increased and he could feel his own blood rushing through his body. Green eyes were zooming in on your face as he drank in the sight of you. From your fluttering eyelashes to your softly parted lips glistening with your lipstick before his eyes traveled further down to your chest, your stomach and your thighs.

His mind started spinning as images filled his head and he was pretty sure that if Yukimaru would have known of any of them, she would have fired him. He abruptly pulled away from you, taking a few steps backwards as he let out a deep breaths through his lips. One of his hands ran through his black locks as he tried to clear all thoughts out of his head. You didn’t stir awake as you continued to sleep blissfully and he couldn’t help the spark of arousal he felt upon seeing you so deeply asleep.

He paced back and forth for a few minutes, his heart pounding with thrill and his blood rushing through his body before Toji felt capable enough to also sit down in the car to drive you to your apartment.

~~~

Yukimaru wasn’t waiting in the lobby when he walked into the building with you peacefully asleep on his bag. Toji was pleasantly surprised when he spotted her nowhere but then again, it was 03:13 am already so perhaps even she had already fallen asleep by now. He could have called her and Toji had no doubt that she would have answered his call and would have hurried down within 5 minutes whilst decently dressed to bring you to the 4th floor.

But was that really neccessary when he could just do the same?

He had only been in your apartment once when he had first signed the contract to be your bodyguard and he was sure that you wouldn't hold it against him. You weren't Yukimaru after all who still had a vendetta against him for not having told him about the accident a few months ago when you had invited him into the izakaya where both of you had met for the first time and had been followed on the way home. Yukimaru would just make everything unneccesarily complicated.

He rummaged through your handbag before fishing the key out amongst all of the content stuffed inside and headed with you to the lift. Honestly, you had a lot of random things just stuffed inside of your handbag that it honestly took him a while to find the small key. You had some KitKat inside there with a lot of different flavors, some cute clingers you had probably just bought on impulse whilst wandering around outside, your flip phone and some files that you were probably planning to go through whilst in the comfort of your apartment. There was also a picture of what he assumed was an island there, somewhat wrinkled around the edges already as it looked to be older than all of the other stuff you had in your bag.

As he turned the key around and pressed the now activated button to allow the lift to go to the highest floor, he wondered when he would also receive one of those keys. He was the only one who lived in this building who didn't have a key and that despite having worked for you since more than a year. Admittedly, the only people living here were Sone, Yukimaru and you but it was still strange. Wasn't he doing a good job? Weren't you trusting him? Or was it Yukimaru who just prevented you from giving him also a key because she didn't trust him yet?

He squeezed his eyes shut to silence all of those thoughts as he brought you to your apartment, unlocking this door too after having found the right device to do in your handbag. His eyes couldn't help but briefly dart around the interior as he hadn't been here since over a year ago although he didn't admire your home for too long before he started looking for your bedroom. After 3 failed attempts by walking into the wrong room because you had too many of them, he finally found your bedroom.

He carefully placed you onto the mattress. And then he just looked at you. He should have left your apartment right now because his job was done. But instead he just stood there over your form sprawled on the bed, green eyes slowly moving up and down your body before landing on your face. There was something very serene about your sleeping face. There was something very beautiful about you.

He swallowed as he felt his heart pounding against his ribcage again as the desire from earlier returned. It felt like with every heartbeat heat slowly spread through his veins as his eyes trailed greedily down your body, focusing on the sliver of skin he could see through your black blouse that was slightly pushed up your stomach. His hands twitched before they slowly moved up and grabbed your hip. Green eyes were glued to your face, ready to pull back and disappear if you should give him any sign that you were about to wake up. Yet nothing happened as your exhaustion had gifted you with a deep sleep.

One of his hands slowly pushed itself underneath your blouse, his fingers massaging the warm skin and flesh on your stomach whilst his other hand trailed up and down your form, feeling every curve on your body. He could feel the heat in his body increasing as he savored the warmth of your skin, his fingers slowly creeping up further until he brushed against the material of your bra.

This was wrong.

He knew that this could get him easily fired if anyone would find out about this. He knew that he should stop this. He knew that he should have probably felt bad about molesting you whilst you were asleep from a hard and long day at work.

Yet besides a very tiny amount of guilt, Toji didn't feel bad. No, he enjoyed this.

His lips met your own as he leaned down to your face. At first it was still in a more careful manner but as soon as the feeling of your soft lips filled his senses, he got more frisky as the kiss got rougher and more heated. Hands started grabbing your body in a tighter hold, squeezing your warm flesh and Toji couldn't help the groan when he felt his cock tightening against his pants.

Fuck...He really wanted to...

The moment a grumble left your lips, his thoughts stopped. He instantly removed himself from you, slightly-alarmed and still half-aroused. You turned to the other side of the bed, your back now facing him as you continued grumbling for a while until you had found a comfortable position. Only then did you stop squirming around. Toji didn't move, focusing on your still body and your even breath before he slowly started to move again.

His own breath was much more irregular than your own as he still felt his blood rushing through his veins in excitement.

You were still asleep. You hadn't woken up. He could still-

He abruptly turned around and left your bedroom, hurrying down the floor before leaving your apartment entirely, quietly shutting the door behind him. He didn't stop though as he walked with fast and long footsteps down the corridor until he stepped into the lift and pressed the button to the third floor.

His mind was racing as he pressed himself against the wall of the elevator. There were so many things he would have needed to comprehend yet the time in the lift was too short for him to even begin to grasp what had just happened. A few seconds just passed with him staring outside the lift before he finally pushed himself away from the wall. His eyes quickly landed on Yukimaru's door as soon as he stepped outside the elevator because the last thing he would have needed right now would have been getting stuck in a one-sided conversation with her where she would most likely belittle and scold him again for something. Yet he couldn't hear any steps from behind her door.

So even Yukimaru Aki wasn't working all the time whils simultanously acting like a mild helicopter parent when it came to you, huh?

He still made an effort to silently unlock the door to his apartment and silently closing it behind him just in case. He took his shoes off and then he just stood there in the floor of his apartment, staring at the space in front of him.

Logically speaking he should have just headed to bed to get a whiff of sleep before standing up again in about 2 hours. However, he doubted that he could. Not with his heart beating so loudly against his chest. Not with his blood and arousal pumping through his body. Not with the racing thoughts he could barely manage to organise.

Toji let out a sigh as he ran his hand through his slightly tousled hair. His eyes wandered down his own body as he examined his own erection before his eyes darted to the bathroom. A shower was out of question unless he wanted to risk waking Yukimaru up but he supposed taking a bath wouldn't be so bad right now.

He discarded his shirt carelessly on the ground as soon as he stepped inside the bathroom and quickly turned on the faucet, turning it around until the water was steaming as it poured inside the bathtub. He watched the process with only half of his mind there as the other one drifted elsewhere.

He pursed his lips as they started tingling when he recalled what he had just done with you in an attempt to get rid of the sensation of your warm lips pressed against his own.

He felt his heart picking up its speed again as an unfamiliar feeling started filling him, something that surpassed the simple physical desires even if a part of him would have wanted to just let those sensations stay at nothing more than sexual needs.

It was a genuine yearning for you. A genuine yearning to have you pressed underneath his own body, to feel your every inch against him and to never let go of your warmth. He wanted to keep you inside his arms, never let another man near you, never let anyone keep him away from you...

When he felt a hot sensation sloshing against his fingers, his green eyes regained their focus. The bathtub was nearly filled to the brim with steaming hot water and he hadn't even realised until now. He quickly turned the faucet off before the water could spill on the floor even more and was forced to drain a bit of the liquid in the bathtub unless he wanted to spill half of it as soon as he would step inside.

He removed the last few pieces of clothing from his body before he finally got inside and he had to swallow the tiniest groan that he wanted to let out when the hot water engulfed his still erect and much more sensitive member. Toji tried to ignore the throbbing sensation though as he tilted his head back, his eyelids partially closed as he stared at the white ceiling.

He was trying to will his heartbeat to slow down yet the more he tried to relax, the worse it got. Thoughts of you kept on popping up, some memories of his and some images that only made him more aware of his aching erection.

He wouldn't have really cared about jerking off in the bathtub normally but it was the fact that he couldn't pin this down to mere sexual lust that had him hesitate. His eyes narrowed when he tried to recall when exactly his feelings for you who should have just been another source for money had changed so drastically. This wasn't like him.

The last woman he had had a thing with, he couldn't even remember her face nor her name, had exactly been what he had thought you to be when he had initially accepted your job offer. She had been a little fountain of money for him to get by for a while and she had been only loved for her money and her usefulness when it came to sexually pleasing him. Now that he thought about it, he faintly remembered something else about her. Didn't that woman also have a child of her own? Had they been a girl or a boy? Toji just couldn't remember.

Yet he could remember everything about you so clearly. He remembered your addiction to KitKat and all the weird flavors this country thought the people would enjoy as well as your addiction to coffee since you couldn't properly work without at least one cup of this liquid in the early morning. He remembered how you had one time bought him multiple boxes of beer just for him to prove to you that he really couldn't get drunk and even the one ridiculous time where you had asked him to squeeze an apple in his hands with all of his strength. He could still recall the look of amazement when the fruit had turned into puree in his hand and he even remembered the one time where Aki had to hold you back from buying a watermelon because you had wanted him to squish that thing with his biceps. Sometimes you really had just such spontanous and silly ideas, didn't you?

You were different from the last woman he had hooked up with solely for money and sexual relief. You weren't just another source of money or pleasure. You...you were something more, weren't you?

This was a problem.

He had never even expected in the slightest to develop feelings for one of his clients. He hadn't loved any woman since...

"Take care of Megumi for me."

He all but ripped the small hand shower attached to the bathtub out of its hold and turned the faucet on. His one hand abruptly turned the handle around until the water pouring out of the hand shower was almost scorching hot. His skin flushed as he just poured the hot water over his head, his neck, his shoulders and the little bit of his chest that was peeking out from the water that was already in the bathtub.

When he turned the faucet off again, his skin had turned red from the exposure to the very hot water. Wet strands of hair were covering his eyes but he didn't care enough to slick them back. He didn't want to care about anything.

He didn't want to remember...

~~~

Aki stirred only half-awake from her sleep. Not enough to sit up, not even enough to open her heavy eyelids. Just enough to be faintly aware that she was awake and cuddled up in her blanket.

She let out a tired grunt as she managed to gather the strength to turn around to the other side of her bed, determined to use every minute she had left before her alarm clock would wake her up and she would start her routine of taking a quick and lukewarm shower, dressing up, taking a quick breakfast and applying her makeup before driving with either Sone-san or (y/n) to the company to work.

Speaking of (y/n), had she actually already returned by now. Aki hoped so because as much as she appreciated your new fervor of working as hard as you did, she didn't want you to overwork yourself too many nights in a row. Although Aki probably wasn't the best person to scold you for this as she herself had been often guilty for that. She knew that this zealousy would end in only a few days though as soon as you had emptied your schedule enough to deserve a few days off. You'd been working so hard in order to make time to travel back there after all.

How long had it been since Aki had last been there? 4 years? Yes, that sounded about right. The last time the both of you had been there had been after the death of Kaito-san and Daisuke-san when Sone-san had told you that you had been appointed the new CEO of the Ito company. It had been Daisuke's last wish before he had died in the hospital after all...

Aki had been that close to drifting back to sleep again when she heard a muffled groan which she assumed was coming from Fushiguro's apartment. She tiredly lifted her head, her eyes half-closed as she stared at the wall separating her and Fushiguro's apartment as she blearily tried to listen for another one of those sounds. What had that sound been in the first place? There were no animals that he kept as far as she knew next to the fact that pets were forbidden in this building anyways.

She waited for a minute or two before the muscles in her neck grew sore and she let her head flop back on the pillow again. She was not willing to stay awake and listen to what her neighbour was doing in his apartment if she hadn't just imagined that sound altogether.

~~~

"Waiting for (y/n) down here?" Sone asked him as him and Yukimaru left the elevator together, both of them about to drive to the company. Toji was sitting on the small couch in the lobby, already dressed up. Green eyes cracked open when he heard the older man's voice and instead of saying anything, he just gave a nod before tilting his head back again.

"You look a bit tired. When exactly did (y/n) and you arrive here last night?" This time he didn't look back up when it was this time Yukimaru asking him the question. Instead he just answered in a few short sentences.

"Don't know exactly. After 3am."

"She really is turning more like you now, wouldn't you agree?" Sone spoke up again, amused as he directed his question at Yukimaru.

"She is working quite hard now but that definitely won't be a permanent thing. We all know that she'll go back to her old ways as soon as she has cleared out her schedule."

"You're probably right but I think it's better that way."

"I agree with you...I wonder if I should call her again to ask where she is."

"There is no need to call her again. I'm sure she'll come any moment now. Why don't we already drive to the company. (y/n) is under professional protection after all."

"...Fine. Let's go. Fushiguro-san, you should probably start packing your stuff slowly. We'll most likely leave in only a few more days if (y/n) keeps up her work like this."

What?

What did that mean? Was there some unannounced business trip he hadn't been told about yet? He wanted to ask Yukimaru what she meant by that but both of them had already left the building at that point and he ultimately didn't care enough to stand up and follow them. He would just ask you about this.

It took you probably about 5 minutes more before you finally came out of the lift with slow steps, your makeup unable to hide your tired expression. Toji stood up as soon as he saw you, taking in your exhausted form. You blinked a few times in a comedically tired way before you looked up to see his face.

"Toji, we need to stop by at a convenience store before driving to work. I need at least 2 more cups coffee if I want to function today."

"Sure. We can do that." He simply answered you, waiting for you as you trudged off to the parking lot before following you. Like that you didn't realise how he was scrutinizing you. It didn't seem like you could remember anything from last night. This was good. He didn't know what had come over him only a few hours ago but those feelings for you were still there. He could feel them rushing through his body as he looked how you dragged yourself to the car before opening the door and flopping down into the passenger seat.

"Thank you for bringing me to my apartment after work by the way. It was you who brought me there, right?"

You asked in a lazy voice as soon as he sat down in the car as well. He gave you a short nod as he started the engine. So you really weren't aware of anything that had happened.

Your head was turned around as your gaze was half-focused on the scenery you could see outside the window as the car left the parking lot.

"You know, I had a really weird dream." You suddenly spoke up out of the blue whilst he was driving, the earlier tiredness and laziness in your voice suddenly gone. Your head was still turned away but as Toji dared to quickly dart his eyes to your side, he realised that you were looking at him through the reflection of the window. You were observing his reactions.

"Really? What dream?" He asked as casually as possible whilst focusing on the streets.

"I don't really remember too clearly. I think you were inside my dream." You answered with a slight hum to your tone that told him that you couldn't clearly recall clearly what had happened but the way your eyes gazed at his reflection in the window told him everything he needed to know. You were suspecting him.

"I was in your dream? Hope it was a nice one then." He replied as the streets outside the car started filling with people as both of you drove into the parts of the city that were always full.

"I haven't made up my mind yet whether I should consider it as a nice dream or not."

There was tension. He could sense it even if neither of you were looking at each other. He had to stop himself from gripping the wheel any tighter in his hands as he kept his posture as relaxed and casual as possible.

"Aki woke me up this morning by giving me a call to remind me kindly to get the fuck up. I nearly overslept there so I'm grateful at least. Whilst we were talking a bit on the phone though, she mentioned to me that she thought that she heard a few weird noises from your apartment. She was not even half-awake though so she just brushed it off as unimportant and went back to sleep."

Fuck.

"Didn't you go directly to sleep after you brought me to my apartment? You know that Aki wouldn't like knowing that my bodyguard isn't in the best condition whilst protection me."

He couldn't answer too quick nor could he take too long. So Toji just decided to answer your question with a little bit of truth.

"I couldn't really sleep last night so I just took a bath instead."

"...A bath?"

That's when you turned your head to him again, your eyelids apparently still quite heavy but your gaze still somewhat sharp.

"You fit into the bathtub?"

He let out an airy chuckle when he heard your question.

"I'm not an actual giant, you know?"

"You're taller and broader than the average Japanese men by a few good measurements. And to some people you definitely are a real life giant. I know that Aki sometimes thinks of you that way at least."

"It isn't hard to be taller than Aki."

"Hey, don't just say that so casually. I know people who are even tinier than Aki. I think both of us are just spoiled by being taller than the average Japanese men and women. And even I feel small when standing next to you."

Both of you were currently definitely dabbling into a lighter conversation but Toji was still sensing your gaze glued to him. He was thinking more carefully now whether or not he should say something next or if he should wait for you to continue the conversation.

Luckily for him though the closest convenience store he could find just came into his vision as he quickly steered the car to the small parking lot in front of it.

You quickly stumbled out of the car as soon as he had stopped the engine, desperate for more caffeine. Toji was quick to follow you. It didn't seem like you planned to speak up again which normally was the case but you were tired after all so you weren't yourself right now. When both of you entered the store though, he remembered a question that he had been meaning to ask you since his earlier encounter with Sone and Yukimaru.

"Talking about weird things Aki mentions, she told me something interesting earlier too."

"Really? What did she tell you?"

"She mentioned that I should start packing my things. We going somewhere or what? I don't know about anything upcoming where we have to leave."

You shortly slowed down even further with your steps.

"Dang it. That's right. I completely forgot to tell you."

Your voice finally shifted somewhat back to your normal tone even if you still sounded tired.

"So we are leaving Tokyo for something?"

"You bet we do. I haven't worked my butt off for all those days without something to motivate me."

"I assume that it isn't anything related to business then." Toji guessed as he heard your words because he knew that you rarely worked with work as your one and only motive.

"It definitely isn't."

"So where are we going?"

"Oshima Island."

"...Never heard of it."

"I don't blame you. It's an island close to Tokyo."

"Why are we going there of all places?"

"...I never told you, did I?" You asked as you tilted your head to look at him whilst finally finding the section where this store sold all the coffee. Toji narrowed his eyes when he heard your question. Your tone was quite light now but he could somehow sense that you were about to tell him something important.

"Aki and I grew up on this island. I'm visiting my parents there."

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere toji #yandere fushiguro toji

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ghostlykeyes · 7 months

Note

Hooray! Requests are open! And I rush like the wind into your abode with my idea! How about this idea? Heartsteel!Kayn x Gothic singer!Reader? Reader is the leader of the Gothic rock band the band. In their video, as well as in the songs themselves, there is a lot of gloom, mystery, and also a lot of creepy themes. There are a lot of cemeteries, abandoned buildings, etc. And in the main life Reader likes to visit cemeteries and abandoned buildings (just like me. Because there you can relax from the hustle and bustle of the city. Peace and quiet). In the clips, Reader often acts as a vampire. I would like to know the dynamics in their relationship) Thank you very much!)

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GIF by thedemonlady

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HEARTSTEEL KAYN: GOTHIC/SINGER PARTNER HEADCANONS ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ Light to mid-NSFW sprinkled throughout... couldn't help myself (but I KNOW none of you bonk-deserving DEGENERATES mind much 0-0 ) ♡ TW: Slight Sexual Content ♡Keyes write less than one thousand words about Kayn challenge (GONE WRONG) (GONE SEXUAL) (TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE)

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KAYN

Yone's the one who "introduced" you to Kayn, in a way. After seeing one of your music videos, Yone had a feeling Kayn might like your style and sent him a link. What Yone didn't foresee was Kayn becoming instantly fucking obsessed with you. But how was he supposed to resist? You, with your blood red lips and your black lace everything and your haunting, creepy voice...how could Kayn be anything but instantly, painfully in love?

Since your group was much smaller than Heartsteel, it wasn't hard for Kayn to get you to notice him. Sure, maybe the guys teased him for DM'ing you around the clock and turning up at all your shows like a damn groupie until you told him he could take you out sometime...but he's the one who bagged the goth hottie in the end, so who's the real winner?

Kayn keeps a mini silver bat keychain clipped to his bag, a constant reminder of you. Even though your aesthetic is gloomy and, frankly, a little ominous, he still says that your little bat is his good luck charm.

Of course Kayn knows that you scream in your songs—he listens to them religiously, after all—but the first time he heard it in person? Holy shit, he got chills. He knows he shouldn't interrupt your band practice. It was already nice enough of you to let him sit in and listen. But he can't. fucking. help it. "That was the hottest shit I've heard in my life," he tells you after you finish the song. "You're so fucking cool." When the band takes a five-minute break halfway through rehearsal, Kayn tugs you into the nearest bathroom and shows you just how sexy he finds you. Needless to say, you get a bit more screaming practice than you bargained for...

Typically, Kayn prefers the stage to the crowd, but even he can admit that being in the audience at your shows is a really fucking good time. The low, moody lighting, the smoke machines belting fog across the stage, groups of your fans proudly sporting plastic fans and screaming the haunting lyrics to your songs? The atmosphere is fucking impeccable. Plus, in a crowd like this, he can easily get away with going full Rhaast. (He's even started a mosh pit or two...or more. Probably best not to keep track.)

Kayn's favorite part of your vampire-ensemble? A pair of silver tooth caps, shaped like fangs (naturally). When he steals you away from rehearsals or pulls you into a dark backstage corner after a show, Kayn's quickly licking his way into your mouth, tongue dancing along the edge of the metal. "Bite me," he often growls into the edge of your ear as you're kissing down his neck. At first you thought he was kidding, so you'd always give him a light nip and then find your way back to his hungry mouth. But, one time, he smacked your ass as you were working the soft flesh of his neck and you, surprised, really bit down—hard. The way Kayn squirmed into you, panting and whining as a dark bruise started blossoming to the surface of his neck, told you that's definitely what he'd been wanting all along.

Since Kayn's been in the industry for a long time, he's a lot more used to dealing with paparazzi than you are. Whenever you come to him for advice on dealing with the cameras and harassment, he scoffs, instantly annoyed. "Oh, those fucking assholes? If you get in their faces enough, they'll back off." Don't worry, though, he'll do the 'getting in their faces' part for you. If you're out with Kayn and the two of you start getting mobbed, he's not afraid to elbow a reporter or two, or break a few camera lenses. Your management is pissed by the bad press, of course, but it's done wonders for your privacy.

Kayn's favorite pet-name for you is his 'baby bat'. He often calls you that after you do something cute. "Ugh, my baby bat," he says, squishing your cheeks with his hand and planting a kiss on your puckered, smushed-together lips. "So fucking adorable."

Your music taste has earned you the great honor of sharing a Spotify account with Kayn. You're the only person he'd ever even consider allowing to add songs to his playlists, or influence what music the algorithm spits through the radio while he's driving. Just don't steal the account while he's listening (he gets pouty).

Whenever the two of you are hanging out Kayn tries to snag your notebook, flipping through for a glimpse at your newest song concepts or music video ideas. He can't help being curious! You're one of his favorite artists (the fact that you kiss him a lot helps with that), so he's always eager for a sneak peek at your next creative endeavor. Your brain fascinates him, and he can't wait to see what ominous project you put out next.

Anytime you've got a photoshoot, count on Kayn to show up. He loves to see you in full vampire-mode, looking flawless in you Tim-Burton-esque makeup and your platform boots. He's got an eye for edgy photography and iconography, too, so he's a great person to draw inspiration from (even if he tends to annoy the photographers—he's not afraid to tell them if their photos are shitty). Some of his best photo ideas? A boudoir-esque shoot centered around a velvet-lined coffin, a Halloween photo-set with charmingly-poorly-carved jack o' lanterns (carving credits to Heartsteel), a birthday party in a graveyard. Not all of his ideas are so extravagant, of course, and some of his best are the most simple. He's taken a simple shot of his neon eye that you loved so much, you made it the cover art for one of your singles.

Kayn has you saved in his phone under a black heart and a bat emoji.

While the graveyard might be a little too quiet and still for his tastes, Kayn's glad to accompany you on trips to abandoned buildings. He's committed arson in explored his fair share of old warehouses and factories, so he knows what to expect when the two of you break into an abandoned building on a date. He's got a full toolkit—flashlights, a crowbar, lockpicks. Whenever you've got to smash a window or crack a lock to move forward, Kayn eagerly volunteers to clear the way. "You know, since I'm a gentleman," he smiles, sweeter than sugar as he kicks down a door. (You have to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes at that.) The two of you spend hours wandering through old buildings on your days off, brushing through years of old, quiet dust. When it's time to leave, Kayn breaks a bottle of spray paint out of his bag. He always tags the building before you clear out, one little symbol for each of you; his Rhaast-grinned Heartsteel icon, and a bat next to it.

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel kayn #kayn #heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #kayn/reader #sheida kayn

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bangtanintotheroom · 1 year

Text

Model Behavior (M)

Still hooking over Still hooking over and die

• Pairing: Taehyung x Assistant!(F)Reader

• Genre: Idol!AU, Smut

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 3,181

• Summary: Helping with photoshoots brought you stress, excitement and a sense of validation. Today, you experience a new and unexpected emotion, thanks to the man at the center of it all.

• Warnings/themes: the Elle Korea photoshoot 😵‍💫, innocent touching (at first), flirting, eye contact, Tae in the open denim jacket ⚰️, making out, oral (m. receiving), a smidge of soft dom!Tae, Y/N using her teeth 🥴, restraining (with hands), cowgirl, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (a swift talk about BC and STDs is had!)

• Song Inspo: Quick Musical Doodles - Two Feet (Spotify | Soundcloud)

• Notes: When I tell y’all I am TIRED of this man wrecking me 🔪🔪🔪 I didn’t expect all of this from the Elle shoot! It got to me so bad that I started writing the beginning of this in the group chat… 🫣 Thank you to @minisugakoobies @sugalaritae @minttangerines for taking the ride to delulu land with me 💕💕💕 And thanks to @luaspersona for the helpful beta! 😚

• Taglist: @jimilter @joontied @jinsquishes @swweetnightt @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @sugalaritae @crisle19 @codeinebelle @ssaboala @kookprada @saweetspoiled @effielumiere @m1sss1mp

You're an assistant on the set of Elle Korea.

You've always been professional, especially since your position involved sprucing up the model at the time. From damn-near naked to partially covered, the human body never fazed you too much.

Until the day Kim Taehyung stepped into the room.

Your eyes were wandering.

Your responses were delayed.

Every time your fingers brushed against his sun-kissed skin, a spark began and traveled to the pit of your belly. And it didn't help that he had a tendency to look you dead in your eyes whenever you were in front of him.

His dark gaze penetrated you every single time.

But you managed to truck on and the rest of the shoot goes smoothly. Well, aside from the one time you almost missed your cue from the director, thanks to wishing you were the flower sticking out of Taehyung’s waistband.

Just as you were packing your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You thought it was your boss and prayed that they didn't notice your slacking today; you had a cruise to go on next month. Opening your mouth with an apology ready, you spun around, only for it to evaporate.

For it was your distraction standing there.

"Hey. Y/N, right?"

Wait, he actually remembered your name? You were so used to 'the helper' or 'that girl' or 'you there' that the courtesy surprised you.

"Yes...Taehyung, right?"

A smile that lifted his cheeks came over his handsome face.

"That's me. Thank you for your help today, you work quick."

No Y/N, don't shuffle your feet like you're some shy schoolgirl.

Oops. Too late.

"Oh, thanks, but it's kind of what I have to do. If I was slow, I definitely wouldn't be here, haha."

You hoped you didn't sound too self-deprecating there, but it seemed to be okay as Taehyung chuckled.

"You have a point there."

Thinking that he was just coming by to pay his gratitude before moving onto whatever else million-dollar celebrities do, you were caught off-guard when he remained steady. For a few seconds, nothing was said as he continued looking you dead in your eyes.

Fuck, he needed to stop with that. Did he know what kind of power his deep brown orbs had?

"Y/N, listen. I need a bit of a favor before I leave for the day."

You blinked.

"You do? What is it?"

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his tight slacks, making the front of his open denim jacket part further, revealing more of that golden skin you kept eyeing up.

"I really liked these outfits. I wanted to see if you could give me the details on them so I could pass them along to my stylist."

Oh? You could do that. Anything to be around this gorgeous man longer.

"Of course! Just follow me to the fitting area, the bags have all the details."

Taehyung directed a box-like smile at you, nodding. You turned and motioned him to follow you down the hall and past people scurrying by with coffee trays and overflowing binders. Reaching your destination, you walked into the room with him, hearing the door shut behind as you made a beeline for the clothing rack along one of the walls.

You studied the cardstock hanging off of the first garment bag before speaking, "Okay, it looks like the red leather jacket you had was Valentino from the Fall/Winter 2023 collec—"

"Y/N."

You were interrupted by a baritone in close distance to your ear, turning your head to jump at how close Taehyung was standing next to you now.

"Y-Yes?"

His full lips curled into a crooked grin.

"I knew what collection that was from before I even got here."

Huh?

"You did?"

"Mhm."

A hand came up to hold yours, removing it from the paper.

That spark from earlier? Yeah, no, that was nothing, because his long and callused fingers against your smaller and somewhat dry ones lit a damn match inside you. And he only made the fire grow with the way his eyes lidded, looking so close to one of the shots that was taken earlier.

"Just wanted to get you alone."

Oh shit.

The air shifted thanks to his confession. The longer your gazes held, the more you forgot that you were at work.

You definitely shouldn't be alone in a dressing room with a famous idol. You definitely shouldn't be forgetting that anyone could bust in at any moment. You definitely should be reminding yourself about that cruise you still had to pay off. You needed this damn job and—

"Y/N."

A shiver ran through you. Damn, his voice.

"Don't think I didn't notice how you were looking at me the whole time."

Oops.

"I-I'm sorry, Taehyung, I shouldn't have been—"

Whatever else you wanted to say was halted when he pressed one of those appendages to your lips.

"Why are you sorry? You think I made you bring me back here for an apology?"

All you could do was stammer, looking undeniably stupid in front of someone who you deemed untouchable. Realizing you were at a loss for words, Taehyung took the reins and moved his finger before leaning down. You felt his wispy bangs brush against your forehead, eyes still on his smoldering gaze.

"If you're not averse to overtime, I'd like to see what's been running through this pretty head of yours."

Nope. This had to be a dream. Or a setup. Maybe that prick Kwan was trying to get you fired so he could get your position.

But...you didn't want to say no.

Licking your lips, you finally found your voice again.

"I...I don't want to get in trouble."

The idol didn't seem fazed, shoulders shrugging as he laid his hands on your hips.

"What happens in this room, stays in this room."

Ah. Well, that was what you would definitely consider a green light.

So you gave your own answer by grabbing the lapels of his jacket, tugging him in for a heated kiss. The next few moments were a blur.

There were hands roaming. His over your comfortable clothes that were starting to feel restrictive over time. Yours going straight for the warm, bare skin underneath the denim, doing your absolute best to remember every bump and dip. How many people would get to say they got to touch Kim Taehyung like this?

At some point, his back was pressed into the wall next to the rack, lips still ravaging your own. Your fingers went on autopilot for his belt, but as soon as you brushed the expensive leather, Taehyung broke the kiss.

"Hold on."

Uh oh. Did he change his mind?

You tried to stave off the disappointment coming on.

"What's wrong?"

He took your hands and pulled them away, but he never let go.

"I know how well these hands of yours work, baby—"

The smirk he gave you should have been illegal in over seventy countries.

"But I wonder if your mouth is just as talented."

Oh.

He had to have felt the way you trembled in his grasp. He had to.

"I mean...I've never had any complaints before."

Taehyung's eyes squinted at your sudden surge of confidence.

"Then don't be greedy. Sharing is caring."

Barely biting back a grin, you waited until he let you go before sinking down to your knees, coming face to face with a tent in his costly slacks. You began reaching for his belt again, only to feel a light swat to your hands. You gaped up at him in shock, only to quiver at the heat directed on you.

"I didn't say you could use your hands, did I?"

What had you gotten yourself into and how could you do it again?

“No, you didn’t.”

Taehyung’s straight teeth flashed dangerously.

“Don’t keep me waiting, gorgeous.”

While those few words rolled off his tongue, he took the opportunity to shift his hips closer to your face. You couldn’t hold back a swallow.

Hopefully, you wouldn’t make an absolute fool of yourself with what you were about to do.

You anchored your palms on your thighs, gripping lightly before you leaned forward, brushing your lips against the cool metal of his belt buckle. Praying that you wouldn’t get any marks on it, you took a hold of the leather with your teeth. You tried your best not to think of how stupid you might have looked, attempting to undo Taehyung’s belt this way.

But his word was absolute; no hands meant no hands.

Finally, you got somewhere, managing to release it from the metal prong before sliding the buckle away. This gave you access to his slacks now, relieved that this part would be much easier.

It was a good thing you only had lip balm on; any kind of stain on the expensive fabric would surely cause you to be reprimanded by your boss.

Your teeth loosened the button from its hole before going for the zipper tab, the sound of the fasteners undoing themselves like music to your ears. You went for his waistband as soon as you were finished, putting more force into your movement this time. With a sharp jerk, you pulled down enough to see a good portion of his briefs.

Just one layer left.

Taehyung seemed to be losing his patience, jutting his hips forward once again. Shooting him a reassuring look, you made quick work of the thin fabric. You barely had time to avoid his cock springing out and hitting you in the eye, face warming at the humored chuckle he gave.

Wanting to wipe the smirk off his face, your mouth engulfed as much of him as possible before giving a harsh suck.

“Shit—”

Lips curling around his length, you gave it your all, throwing in whatever tricks you were familiar with. Taehyung seemed to appreciate the effort, ebony eyes watching you like a hawk and filth-coated praises leaving his mouth.

“That’s it, baby— This what you wanted to do to me the whole day?”

Hopefully the way you fluttered your lashes got the message across.

“Goodness, I hope you’re not like this with every model you work with.”

Now your eyes narrowed, a hand coming up to swat his thigh on instinct. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize your mistake until Taehyung flew out to grab your wrist.

“What did I say, Y/N?”

Forgetting that your mouth was occupied, you began apologizing, but the idol was quick to stop you with his free hand.

“Give me your other arm.”

Your thighs quivered at the commanding tone covering the baritone now, obliging without a second thought. He wrapped his long fingers around your other wrist, keeping your arms up and next to his legs.

“Go on.”

You did not expect him to just take charge like that; the thought only made your pussy clench hard before you continued sucking him off.

For the most part, Taehyung let you do all the work. But sometimes his hips would come to life, taking a moment to give shallow thrusts into the wet heat of your mouth. The rational part of your brain freaked out whenever some of your spit threatened to leak out onto his pants while the horny part relished in the messiness.

Just before a large glob was about to slip past your lips, you felt him release your wrists and pull back to slide out of your mouth. While you were catching your breath, Taehyung helped you stand before walking you over to the couch on the other side of the room. He took a seat, keeping his legs spread as he tugged you by your hips to stand between them.

“Sorry to rush the fun, but my people are going to be looking for me soon.”

His hands already began working at your pants before the sentence was even finished.

“It’s fine.”

As soon as he opened the closures and yanked both waistbands down to your calves, you helped with getting them off your feet. He pushed his own clothing further down his legs and you straddled his lap, shivering at the sensation of his dick under your drenched core.

“You’re okay with this?”

Taehyung’s question took a second to sink in, but you nodded when it did.

“Yeah. I’m clean and safe.”

The man underneath you reflected the nod, hands sneaking around to cup your bare ass.

“Good. You don’t have to worry about getting anything from me, either.”

Your brows knitted jokingly as you felt Taehyung lift you up a bit.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to have to end up going to the media and letting them know that Kim Taehyung is carrying something.”

He merely chuckled, reaching down to guide himself to your entrance.

“And I don’t want to have to go to your boss and tell them about what went down in this room.”

Your mouth parted as you felt him begin to spread you out, words unable to come out until you were fully seated on his lap.

“T-Touché.”

Pleased with your acceptance, Taehyung took a hold of your hips and began pumping up into you. It was torture to have to hold back some of the louder noises you wanted to make, but you did not want to lose this damn job.

Guess you would have to show your appreciation another way.

Managing to balance yourself upright, you laid your palm on his chest, pushing the jacket aside to give you a better look at his torso. Your fingers roamed over the tanned skin, savoring the muscle and tone lying underneath. You took special interest in his stomach, enjoying the faint outline of abs that would show whenever he thrust up.

“Hey, that tickles.”

Your lips curled at Taehyung’s thick protest, sliding your index finger down to trace around his belly button.

“Sorry.”

He merely shook his head as you showed no signs of stopping your trek, digging his nails into your bottom.

“Sure you are.”

Taehyung made sure to get his revenge by pumping harder, forcing you to clap your free hand over your mouth, preventing a loud moan from escaping. He doesn’t slow down over time, fucking into you with abandon as low grunts left him. The model seemed content with watching you bounce above him for the most part. His dark orbs often switched between your face and where your bodies were connected.

The two of you continued until you felt that unbearable coil twisting in your gut, needing something extra to help it snap. Taking a chance, you removed the hand silencing yourself to grab one of Taehyung’s, sliding it between your hips. With a pleading look down at him, he nodded swiftly.

You were sure you tasted blood with how hard you bit on your lip when he started circling your aching clit.

But it was just what you needed, finding yourself getting to that precipice faster than before.

“T-Taehyung—”

Said man continued his movements, eyes steady on your face.

“Keep going, baby. Gonna make me come too—”

His admittance made your pussy quiver, but the excitement took a halt with a sudden thought you had.

“Wait, where are you gonna come?”

“I’ll pull out, don’t worry.”

Oh hell. If he did that, who knows where the mess would end up. While it would be unpleasant if it landed on your own clothes, any trace of semen on his own garments would cause a fiasco.

“Don’t, just— Stay inside, it’s fine.”

Taehyung gaped up at your words. It seemed like he wasn’t going to fight you though, not saying anything more. He let his hips do the talking for him instead.

With a few more steady thrusts and swipes over your bud, you saw stars behind your lids, arching your back and stifling down a cry in your throat. Your nails dug into the firm chest below, needing some sort of anchor as you rode out the tension. You almost missed the sight of Taehyung following behind you, watching as his face screwed up in bliss as ropes of release coated your walls.

His hips came to a stop after some time, his head flopping to rest on the back of the couch as he caught his breath.

“Fuck, that was good…”

You couldn’t speak quite yet, choosing to reflect the sentiment with an unsteady nod. The two of you took a moment to catch your breaths before you tapped his shoulder.

“We should probably get out of here now.”

“Ah.”

You were careful in pulling off of Taehyung’s dick, making sure nothing dripped out. Thankfully, a tissue box was nearby, allowing you to grab a few sheets to clean yourself up. You handed a couple to him as well.

Once you were done, you picked your pants and underwear off the floor, sliding them back on over trembling legs. Taehyung seemed to finish getting himself together at the same time as you, fastening his belt. He looked up at you with a grateful smile.

“Thanks for that, Y/N.”

You scoffed lightly, your own smile coming to the surface.

“I should be thanking you. When I woke up this morning, I didn’t expect to get the opportunity to fuck an idol.”

The taller man laughed at your quip, wispy bangs moving as he shook his head.

“Cross it off your bucket list. Who knows, we might see each other again in the future.”

Taehyung smirked at how flustered you became now, leaning down to plant a kiss on your swollen lips. He whispered against them, “Hell, I wouldn’t mind it. See ya.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to say goodbye, heading for the door. Shooting you a wink, he opened it before stepping out and shutting, leaving you all alone in the dressing room now.

Wow.

Did you really just sleep with the Kim Taehyung?

And got away with it?

A short laugh couldn’t help but come out.

Hopefully he was telling the truth when he said that what happened here would stay between the two of you.

Glancing at your watch, you decided to head back to the set to help break everything down. You walked over to the door and placed your hand on the knob.

A sudden realization froze your body and made your gut twist.

The two of you forgot to lock the door.

Motherfucker.

All you could do was sigh and shake your head before leaving; Taehyung better keep his pretty mouth shut.

©bangtanintotheroom, 2023. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

Note

Hello, there ♡ I saw your requests are back open and I was wondering if I could request some more Thranduil smut where the reader (female human) has a nightmare or is just deeply upset over something (whichever you prefer) and he comforts her, but then it slowly turns into a slow burn fuck sesh 🔥🔥 thank you so much. I hope you are having a good week.

Well hello there! I had a great week, I hope it was the same for you! Now, onto your request.

"Light after darkness"

✨Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV)

✨Themes: Some angst | Smut | Soft

✨ Word count: 3k words

✨Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

Summary: A bad nightmare and waking up in the dark ends up with something much lighter and sweeter.

✨ Author's notes: "Girdle of Varda" is a band of countles stars similar to the Milky Way.

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

The vision returned, darker and more sinister this time.

It started as an inky black mist rolling in, and the world went dark. Lightning struck like a lance, its flash splitting the sky, but little could be seen, save for shadows in the gloom. Ugly things, ones only found in the darkest pits, slithered about, muttering in a tongue that was foul and torturous to listen to. There were flashes of terror and suffering, and there was laughter, coldness, and cruelty. There was the glint of steel, of eyes glinting like red, hot coals. And the pain, sharp and intense, returned, with memories of a dark time flooding in like waves crashing over jagged rocks.

And that flood only grew, with those waves rising higher and higher. Your heart lurched at the next flash of lightning, at the glint of a sword, at the sound of a beast pounding over muddy earth. You caught the subtle sheen of armour, the agonizing sounds of frantic screams. Red eyes flashed in the darkness again, hot and angry this time, rushing towards you, and then —

"Starlight?" a comforting voice called out from the darkness, pulling you out of the dream and slowly into waking. "Starlight, are you all right?"

You jerked awake, a silent scream trapped in your throat. The utter clarity and terror of that nightmare left you shaken and cold, and you trembled, your eyes barely making out the outlines of a large room. "It's dark," you said in a panic, your chest heaving heavily. "Why is it dark?"

You heard nothing, save for the muffled sound of feet over thick carpets. A candle was lit, its soft, golden light dispelling some of the gloom. Someone walked over to the large, arched windows, opening them to a wide expanse of the night sky. Sheer drapes fluttered in the cool breeze. And how beautiful the sky was! Countless stars glittered against an endless field of inky black, with the Girdle of Varda and a pale full moon standing out against them all. How comforting it was to see that sky after weeks of darkness, the light of that candle, but most important of all, the face of the ellon who made his way back to your side.

"Are you well, starlight?" He studied you, his eyes filled with growing worry. "You were struggling in your sleep."

"Bad dreams again," you tried to take a deep, steadying breath to try and compose yourself. "From before and..." You began to weep then, shedding sad, bitter tears, as the memory of your capture kept flooding back. Thranduil felt helpless, unable to defend you from an enemy he could not fight or even see. It made him angry—so very angry, that he couldn't shield you from the horrors that plagued you some nights. In the end, he settled on the one thing he could do. He joined you in bed, gathering you in his arms and holding you while you wept.

Tears fell, hard and relentless, and you clung to Thranduil's robes, your chest heaving painfully against his. And Thranduil refused to let go, holding you silently without complaint. His presence was a great comfort, and his touch was soothing. You lost track of time, so lost were you in your grief. And it slowly passed, with your tears easing and your sobs quieting. The pain you felt ebbed, and yet you felt empty instead of light.

"Do you wish to talk about it, starlight?" Thranduil's voice was warm and deep as it cut through the haze.

"Tis the same as before," you choked, nestling into him. "A foul mist and lightning. Daggers and those ugly red eyes. Then a sword flashed in the darkness. Your elk pawing at the earth. Screams." Your eyes drifted down, to your exposed left arm. "The pain."

Thranduil ran a careful finger over the scars on your forearm, a gift from your orc captors. "Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head. "Not anymore. But I can still feel the blade. And I hate it. I hate how it looks. How it makes me look." You sniffled again when you went over those scars, all words, all in the black tongue of Mordor. No amount of healing could make them go away, and you were bound to carry them for the rest of your days. "I feel ugly."

How Thranduil hated it, hearing you talk like that. He couldn't bear to hear you talk of yourself that way. "You are beautiful starlight, and it pains me to hear you talk of yourself that way."

"But look at these!" You cried and stuck out your arm, so he could see. "They will never go away, so how can you say that I am?"

Thranduil took your hand into his and lifted it to his lips. "I am not blind to them, starlight. I say you are beautiful because you are. Remember your first night after waking up?" His pulse scrambled with each little kiss when his lips pressed against your skin, at the scent that filled his lungs—the sweet scent of you. "When you were strong enough to dine with the rest of us?"

Your cheeks warmed; how could you forget? Thranduil was the first to rise when you walked in, his eyes fixed on you and no other. He had insisted you sit next to him, and he spent almost the entire night talking and dancing with you. "I thought you had never seen a mortal before me," you managed a weak smile.

"Hah!" Thranduil guffawed, his lips skimming over your fingers. "Mortals, I deal with plenty. You on the other hand? I have never seen anyone like you, and I could not keep my eyes off you. You were a vision that night... You are a vision, starlight. I wish we had met under happier circumstances, but I am glad we did. I would not change the past several moons for anything."

You barely remembered the first few days of your rescue. All you did have were hazy memories of that battle, of opening your eyes and seeing Thranduil for the first time, the fall of his silver-blonde hair, the steel of his armor, the cloak that kept you warm on the ride back to his halls. Still, those first memories of him, blurred as they were, were so precious to you. "I would not change one thing either, save for maybe this."

Thranduil's lips left your fingers and trailed down your arm, barely skimming over the scars. "You are beautiful, starlight," he breathed softly. "Will you let me show you just how beautiful you are?"

You hummed sweetly, all too aware of the heavy thud of your own heart. And to have him take his time to make you feel good? Well, you were not going to say no to that. "Yes," you said, your breath hitching when his eyes darkened.

Thranduil took his time, slowly unburdening you of your robes and unburdening himself of his. He started by touching you first, letting his hands glide all over your body, slowly and gently, like he was touching you for the first time. And he trembled, his breath soft and tremulous, his hands shaking as they continued with their gentle exploration. "Just feeling your naked skin against mine is enough to make me weak," he murmured, delighting in the little gasp he heard. "So soft, and I cannot get enough of it."

His touch slowly grew insistent, and his light brushes grew a little rougher, a little greedier. His hands were everywhere, over your thighs, your belly, the soft swell of your breasts, deft fingers kneading at your flesh. You shivered, your body slowly easing over soft, silk sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric. Thranduil saw this and groaned under his breath. He had only just begun.

He moved over you, his thighs pushing yours apart. Propping himself on one elbow, Thranduil continued with his exploration, his soft, luscious lips just hovering over yours. His free hand kept gliding over your belly, over trembling muscles, and his eyes locked on you. And those eyes of his, burning bright even in the light of that single candle, the blue of them as vibrant as a clear morning sky. That was the only first clear memory you had of him after your rescue: opening your eyes and finding him looking down at you on the ride back. A gasp then ripped through you when his hand came back to your breasts, stroking the soft skin, his fingers drawing little circles, then pinching lightly at first, then growing rougher, until it felt like your entire body was aching. Flushed and breathless, you moved a hand over his, trying to guide him.

"No," Thranduil gently ordered, his lips brushing over yours. "Not tonight."

You swallowed and moved your hands over your head, your body pulsing as he continued, brushing his fingers over your throat, your lips, and your eyelids.

You were everything he wanted, needed, even. And he didn't stop. Not with his hand, not with his lips. Thranduil kept brushing his lips over yours, savouring the sweetness of your mouth and he felt it—the slow pin-pricks of desire smolder and grow stronger, degree by slow degree. Hunger threatened to overcome him, but he forced himself to hold back just a little longer. He wanted to taste more of you first.

Your back arched against him, and you sighed helplessly when he dipped his head, his lips and his tongue leaving a damp trail in their wake. "I cannot get over how sweet you taste," he mumbled against your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin. "Just thinking about my lips against your skin is enough to make me hard."

You pulled away and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, searching for any sign of a lie or a tease. There was nothing but love and dark hunger burning in them.

"D-do you m-mean it?" you still asked, as doubt slowly sunk its claws into you. Thranduil was the Elvenking, an ellon who could have had anyone he wanted, and yet he chose you, a mere mortal with a scarred arm. His choice shocked many, and you were constantly worried despite his promise of devotion.

His eyes grew serious as his hand went lower, to the apex of your thighs. "I mean it, starlight, every word of it," his voice was thick and hoarse, a groan escaping his lips when you arched your back again, your mouth parting in a soft moan as his fingers rubbed up against your heat.

There was no talking now, just feeling. Thranduil watched, his blood heating at the sight of you writhing beneath him. He wanted to see, truly see, what pleasure was like on you, and he was not disappointed. Intoxicating, was what it was, and he took his time, drinking in the myriad of expressions that washed over your countenance—the looks of shock, desire, and pure ecstasy. Thranduil enjoyed it all, committing everything to memory.

"No starlight," he denied you when you tried to move your hand over his once more. "Not tonight. Let me take care of you."

Oh, how he took care of you, running the pads of his fingers over the warmth of your slit, your little pearl. And how it thrilled you—how it sent jolt after jolt of intense pleasure washing all over your body. Having to keep your hands to yourself and letting him take control—it all felt so wonderful and so very erotic. And then he slid a finger in, gently curling it around your pulsing walls, pulling shameless moan after shameless moan out of you.

"You are made for me," Thranduil's breath had grown ragged, his eyes feasting on the sight of you moving frantically, how you bucked against his hand. And how his heart pounded against his chest as you continued to writhe beneath him, your walls clenching around his finger. "Just me. And look at how glorious you are right now, starlight. Look at how your body responds... I could spend all day in our chambers like this, just watching you."

"Th-thranduil," you whimpered weakly, your body slowly unraveling beneath him. You were unsure what heated you more, his words or his touch. "D-dont stop. P-please."

The king growled in approval, his own body aflame. "That first night with us," he crooned huskily, his lips skimming over the shell of your ear. "When you came to eat with us, and I saw you, I thought I had strayed into a dream. I could not keep my eyes off of you, starlight."

"M-more," you pleaded, your body tingling at his words, your muscles tightening more and more with each passing second. "P-please my k-king."

Thranduil was almost undone by that alone. And he felt it—your thighs shaking, your walls slowly tightening. He withdrew his finger and positioned himself, his lips just a hair's breadth over yours. "Your body is intoxicating," he breathed, trembling when the tip of his cock rubbed against your slick. "Fuck," he mumbled, his very breath shuddering. Thranduil swallowed and forced himself to focus. He was not going to move along blindly. He wanted you to feel as much pleasure as he did.

And you could no longer bear not touching him. You could no longer bear this waiting. You reached over, twining your arms around his broad shoulders and tracing lines between his shoulder blades. "I'm ready," you whispered. "Please, my king. I need to feel you inside of me again."

Thranduil's gaze cut to yours. There was nothing but lust shining in his eyes and it thrilled you to have him look at you like that.

"Please," you pleaded once more. "I need you inside me."

Thranduil hesitated briefly. Just briefly. He looked at you, eyes filled with reverence, his free hand brushing over your hair. You looked up at him, the two of you staring at each other in wonder. There was a pause. The very air seemed to still. And then, his mouth captured yours in a kiss. His kiss seared, his mouth hot and hungry as his lips plundered yours. Your heart fluttered when he pressed himself against you and his tongue licked past your parted lips to dip into the warmth of your mouth. A noise rose at the back of your throat, a soft, needy moan, something dark and sinful, enticing him to kiss you even more. Your arms tightened over his shoulders, and your legs scrambled for purchase against his hips. You felt it—him piercing your core, his cock sinking inch by slow inch, pushing you deeper into the bed. And oh, how good it felt to have him inside you, filling you to the hilt. Belonging to him, just him. Oh, how you loved that, knowing you were his. And then he moved. His first thrust ripped a gasp out of you; the second, a dreamy sigh.

Thranduil was slow and deliberate. His thrusts were gentle and steady, as if he didn't want to shock you, or cause you pain. All you could do was cling to him, your body tightening again with each passing moment. It was always like this, always so good, and only he could make you feel like this, take you higher and higher, to places you have never been before.

Thranduil's breath quickened and grew ragged. He grunted when your hands moved up and buried themselves in his thickhair. Those grunts grew deep and gutteral and turned to moans every time you tugged, every time you pulled him closer to you. Feeling your naked skin against his hammered at his restraint, and he slowly picked up the pace, going harder and faster, his hips slamming against the inside of your thighs. His moans matched yours, his free hand kept gripping at your hip, so he could go deeper. And how he loved it, how you held him, how your body responded to him.

"You are perfect starlight," he rasped, rough and deliberate, when your hands moved back down to his shoulders and your nails dug into his skin. Thranduil didn't mind it one bit, for it meant you found pleasure in what he was doing. "You are perfect even with your scars, and I would not change a single thing about you."

You would have replied, but your answer was muffled by his kiss. It didn't matter. Hearing that he fully accepted you, scars and all, was enough. Seeing and hearing how strong his desire was for you was enough. You cleaved to him, your legs clinging desperately against his hips as he took you closer and closer to the edge. It was there, in the trembling of your thighs and in the quickening of your breath. Thranduil felt it—the coiling of muscles in his belly, the frantic pace of his breathing. "Together then?"

You looked up at him and nodded.

Moans spilled free and filled the room, drowning the sound of skin slapping against skin.Thranduil didn't let you go, not when your orgasm ripped through you and you cried for him, his name repeatedly rolling past your lips. Oh, how that shattered him—his name on your tongue, your walls clenching around his cock. Thranduil took you over the edge and fell with you, his moans peppering the air when those coiled muscles snapped, making him lose himself in you. You barely heard it, so caught up were you in your blissed-out state. You barely heard it, the satisfying grunt, the gruff, throaty moan. You felt his body trembling violently over yours before he spilled his seed inside you. One last thrust, one final moan, and he let go, propping himself on his hands to stop himself from collapsing over you.

You hear nothing, save for the sound of your choppy breathing and his. Only that and a sweet smelling wind that blew in through the windows. You opened your eyes to that glorious sky, those glittering stars, and the soft light of the moon. You hungered for such sights, to see light after being kept in the darkness for so long, and Thranduil made it possible again, in more ways than one.

"My king," you breathed when Thranduil moved to his side, taking you with him. The strength of his arms and the gentleness of his touch were nearly enough to make you forget. Nearly. The memories will always remain, but you knew you would be safe in his arms and that nothing could get to you now.

"My queen," Thranduil brushed his nose against your hair. He then started to hum an elven lullaby, his soft, soothing voice lulling you into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Tags: @shrasdust | @asianbutnotjapanese | @nupppuff | @ryantryan6969 | @viivi

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #thranduil x reader #Thranduil #The hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #reader requests #reader inserts #Asks #Writeblr #a world of whimsy writes

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sebsxphia · 1 year

Note

MY LOVE 💐💐

new layout looks SO good!!!

thinking about preacher Rhett bringing his film camera to a dingy motel room…. thinking really hard

ptolemaea. | the thoroughfare motel tapes.

preacher!rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: you and rhett are nearing the end of the line and he has a sinful idea to document the beginnings of your time out west.

￫ word count: 9K.

￫ c/w: heavy and dark religious themes, sex, p in v, rough sex, cnc, derogatory sex, derogatory names used towards reader, swearing, kissing, thigh riding, pussy spanking, spanking, spanking with a cross, boot riding, edging, blowjobs, deep throat, skull fucking, aftercare, bruising, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, overstimulation, daddy kink, choking, nipple pinching, corruption and innocence kink and preacher!rhett abbott.

￫ a/n: it’s here! i would highly suggest listening to wrestling in dirt pits, gibson girl, western nights and thoroughfare by ethel cain, in that order, whilst reading! a huge shout out to @bobfloyds @beachbabey @sunblchdfly @lewmagoo and @bradshawsbitch for brainstorming the most filthy and precious ideas. i love you all dearly. this is for you all <3 this is part of ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ my main masterlist can be read here! 💌

previous chapter | next chapter

Rhett had guarded his heart like a fed from the moment you met him. Through the times he had you bent over his wooden desk in his back office at the Church, to lying with him at night in a Motel bed. On occasions, such as the other night when he chased you through the woods as a game, you thought you saw into him. You thought you saw something real, but it was quickly faltered back to the Preacher you knew. None the less, you were getting closer to the end of your destination with each passing Motel and tin shaped diner as you made your way out West. Perhaps it was the force of proximity, or that Rhett knew your journey was coming to an end, but one night on the passing roads, Rhett opened up to you.

“I was twelve years old ‘nd son of a Preacher. I loved him and the love he had for my Mother. Subsequently, he made me fall in love with America. But, my Mama, she was always good for makin’ me cry,” Rhett shook his head and scoffed, his tone gritting between his teeth. “Everythin’ in that fuckin’ town wanted me dead, ‘till I was holdin’ a gun to my head and I knew I had to go.” The sound of his truck hummed through the blackout night and you turned in your seat to watch with intent as he spoke. “I was seventeen ‘nd I knew I had to see it all. I had to get out and go chasin’ its sweet call,” Rhett motioned forward with his hand, then paused. “But I was scared of the world. I ended up standin’ over my Ma’s casket, thinkin’ I was next. I was scared I’d end up like my Pa. I looked in a mirror and I was beggin’ myself for more time.”

Rhett paused for another moment, but his eyes were still fixed on the dim lit road ahead. You could see him replaying it as a ghost of a memory behind those tired eyes and you felt for him. You realized you were no less different compared to him.

He let out a defeated and tired sigh, and then his demeanor switched as he recalled something else behind those cobalt blue eyes. “But then I met, well caught, you.” He had a grin on his face now. “Y’ came in to my Church lookin’ like a backwater girl and America’s sweetheart.” He reached over and squeezed the flesh of your knee with a grin still on his face. You squealed in response and playfully swatted at his hand to stop the sensation that caused your nerve endings to turn into television static.

“Y’ didn’t trust no one.” Rhett huffed out a laugh as you fought to keep his hand away from the pressure points on your knee.

“That’s because the whole town found me suckin’ the Preachers cock.” You quipped back at him with amusement in your tone.

Rhett hummed in pride as he recollected the memory. “I remember though, what you said to me.”

You looked down towards your lap where your fingers intertwined and busied themselves with one another. You were trying to avoid Rhett’s curious gaze at your admittance of remembering something so fondly.

“You said, don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere. I mean fuck, we were both outta luck, but at least your truck beats walking to the fuckin’ West.” You looked out of the truck window as you spoke. It was dark for the most part, only with a couple far off city lights pathing the way, but it helped with the silence that fell heavy over the truck.

You heard Rhett exhale deeply and shift in his seat. “Before I came to your town, I was in Florida. I had no one to worry about leavin’ for and no one left to love. But now that I’ve met you, fuck. I finally know jus’ where I’m headin’. Remember when I was all alone in my house and I was fuckin’ your guts like I hated you? I didn’t hate you, sweet lamb. I just kept prayin’ you’ll save me. You made me fuckin’ crazy.”

You felt a sense of clarity clear your head at Rhett’s admission. Your whole body shuddered at the physical memory. It was the first time he invited you round to his house. It was no more than a week after your run in in the Church toilets and the first time he fucked you in his back office at the Church.

He snuck you in. He was careful not to let anyone spot you visiting the town Preacher’s house during the dead of night. Rhett had claimed he’d been alone all day and he needed someone to kill his loneliness with. He had your legs doubled over and his cock hitting your cervix so furiously, that you could see him bulge in your lower abdomen. At the time, you thought you’d done something to warrant such loathsome sex, but it became clear as Rhett explained to you in his truck, that this night was because he didn’t know how to control himself anymore. He spat in your mouth for the first time that night. Your own mouth salivated as you recalled the animalistic action. You understood now that he was spitting his love into your mouth. He needed you, and it came out in the most frustrating way he knew how.

“I think I’ve found a way to show y’ how much y’ mean to me, when you’re lookin’ all pretty, lyin’ in those sheets undressed.” Rhett motioned to the backseat in his truck as he kept his gaze fixed ahead of him. You leant over and retrieved the plastic bag. You reached inside and fished out an old film camera. It was still in its box with the cardboard tattered around the corners. “I wan’ remember everythin’ when we get to the West.” Rhett reached over again to touch your knee, but this time his hand skimmed higher and squeezed at your thigh. You felt a million and one butterflies swarm your stomach at what your Preacher was implying.

“When?” You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the selfish grin spreading across your face.

“Tonight, once we reach this Motel. Wear that pretty set I got you. I wan’ get alone with you, sweet lamb.”

“Yes, Father.”

Your son of a Preacher, sinful as ever. You were all over him like a burning rash as he drew closer to the Motel. Your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt and your lips placed chaste kisses over his neck. Occasionally your tongue would dip out and soak up the salty taste of his sweat that had been simmering for a day or two. It was heaven to you. A concoction that you would go back for time and time again. Eventually, Rhett parked up at the Motel. He paid with the cash he stole from the Church and guided you to your Motel room, with his hand placed firmly on your lower back. He never strayed far from his precious lamb. It was as if to guide his lamb to the slaughter.

Once inside, you fished out the set Rhett had bought you a couple of towns back and slipped it on in the en-suite. The set was simple. It came from a town that hadn’t seen much of the newest century and you wondered momentarily if someone could have been murdered in it. It was cream and white, but a perfect white. Lacy details that had tiny flowers embroidered on, ran around the base of the bra. The underwear curved perfectly and the straps from the garter belt ran over the swell of your ass that was still tinged a baby pink colour from Rhett’s hands two nights before. The garter belt was attached to cream coloured stockings, and it made your thighs look like a place Rhett wanted to hide his face away in for the rest of eternity, until the end of Armageddon if he had to.

“You look like a virgin born again, my sweet lamb. Or, a lamb brought to the slaughter. Shall we find out which?” Rhett’s index finger lazily pointed to the ground beneath his boots. He needed no definite command to tell you exactly where you were to end up. You moved as gracefully as you could to stand in-between Rhett’s wide spread thighs at the edge of the bed. His calloused hands made contact with the backs of your thighs and your body jolted alive at his fervent touch. As if to elicit this image to memory forever, Rhett’s hands moved up and over your legs, finding their home on your ass. He issued a light, yet solid slap, to the soft flesh that made an easy moan fall from your lips, your skin still tender from before.

“I’m in love with your body, that’s why I’m fuckin’ it up, y’ know?” In sequence, as if Rhett had the rhythm of a hymn playing in his head, he delivered five more curt slaps to your supple flesh, each of them burning a fire on your skin. Instinctively, your palms reached out to grip at Rhett’s plaid shirt, with your body wilting forwards against him. Something of a merciful groan left your lips, as if to beg Rhett to stop, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to—

“Baby,” Rhett’s tone warned you. “If it feels good, then it can’t be bad.” Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say to discourage your doubt, and you let him continue to welt the supple flesh of your ass with his calloused palm.

“Turn around.” Rhett ordered with a gruffness in his voice. He planted his palm on the round of your ass and curved your thigh to direct you towards the blinking red light in the corner of the Motel room. You tiptoed on your feet to position yourself. His hands snaked along your hips and squeezed the soft flesh of your stomach, before leaving your body momentarily and picking up the small cross he’d packed with him.

The camera had the view finder flipped around so you could watch as Rhett didn’t let up his ministrations of marking your ass, yet this time, using the harsh material of the wooden cross. His stern gaze was fixed directly on you through the screen and you squirmed under his touch. You were unable to break away from his damning gaze and you were completely at his mercy. From however far away you were from Rhett, he would always pull you under with his cold-blooded stare and let it bleed all over you. At the back of your mind, doubt started to cloud you senses. You wondered if you had read this all wrong, especially that night when he chased you through the woods. That was something different entirely. What if he hated you? What if it was too late to—

“Do y’ want to hurt me?” Your voice wavered and babbled out before you had even registered what you’d said. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes from the painful pleasure shooting through your lower back as his cross continued to meet your ass, before it came to a sudden halt and was dropped on the bed. His hands ran soothingly over your now deep rouge coloured flesh.

“Hurt you?” Rhett twisted you by your waist to face him as you stood still in between his thighs. His hands didn’t leave you and the warmth of his palm spread over you to dull the ache that he’d created with the hand of God. “My sweet lamb, I never wan’ to hurt you. I wan’ to love you.”

You looked down at him and blinked away your tears in a flurry. His thumb came up to smooth over your cheeks and wipe them away, feeling your baby hairs on the corner of your jaw. The cobalt blue of Rhett’s eyes reflected in the dim lighting of the Motel room and his prior hardened gaze, had softened entirely. You watched as his eyes traced over your face and every feature you wore. Time stood completely still in this moment, in this particular Motel room, now not far from the West. You started to see Rhett differently, and for the first time since you were a child, you could see a man who wasn’t angry.

“You wanna… love me, right now?” You questioned with hesitation in your voice. You and Rhett had disclosed your love to one another time and time again, but this time, it was different and you weren’t familiar with the sincerity in Rhett’s tone.

“I wan’ fuck you, I wan’ see you on your knees, I wan’ rip this fuckin’ piece off,” his index finger tugged at the band of your garter belt and let it slap against your thigh. “But more than anythin’, I wan’ make love to you.”

“You wanna see me on my knees?” A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips and you bit down gently onto your bottom lip when Rhett let out a grumbled growl. He delivered one more smack to your ass before pointing over to the camera that had since been forgotten about in the corner of the room. You understood what Rhett was silently implying.

You handed it to him and descended to your knees at the bottom of the bed. You situated yourself neatly in-between Rhett’s thighs and felt the rough tapestry of the Motel carpet scratch at your knees. He brought the lens of the camera up to point directly at the sinful sight below him. He leant back ever so slightly on one arm to allow the view finder to take in every angle of your poised position. “Smile for the camera, my pretty little lamb.” You gazed up at him through your lashes and smiled a sickly sweet smile. A groan got caught in his throat at the sight below him and his cock strained dangerously tight against his jeans. Rhett didn’t have a spare hand and he gestured for you to take the reins. Your hands slinked up his tense thighs and un-did his large belt buckle. It fell to the side with a clang! against the metal. You could already see the bulge outlined underneath his boxers. You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the salvia pooling already in your mouth from dribbling out.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart. Lord knows you’ve had this cock a million times.” Rhett snarked in response to watching your pupils double the size.

“I- I know, it’s just,” you pointed to the camera in Rhett’s hands and stifled a giggle. He cooed and brought his hand to smooth around your cheeks and hold your chin upto him. How his sweet lamb had strayed so far from the flock and ended up in the Lord’s arms, wearing white that barely hid the temptations of your own body. You had come alone into Rhett’s maliciously corrupt arms, from however far away you were before, and he thought it sweet how you were now getting shy.

“Do what your Preacher tells you.” Rhett’s tone was firm and you knew it was the beginning of a stern warning from him. The previous ache on your ass twinged and you were swiftly reminded of the consequences that would follow if you didn’t obey your Preacher.

Your fingers made quick work of freeing his aching cock from the confines of his underwear. A quiet grunt escaped him as he felt your hand clasp around him and squeeze him lightly. He was hot and heavy under your touch and his broad tip was glistening an angry red colour. He momentarily removed your hand and spread your palm in front of his face. He pursed his lips together and a direct line of his spit came into contact with your palm. You wrapped yourself around him again and in steady motions, you ran your lubricated hand over his length, remembering to work your thumb over his sensitive tip, just as he had showed you before.

A now louder grunt bubbled up through his throat, but he was steady enough to still hold the camera in focus of you. Up until this point, you had focused on the engorging sight before you, but Rhett wanted to see you become immoral in his lap. His hand reached up to cup your chin again and tilt your face upwards. His thumb ran along your bottom lip and pushed itself past to press down forcefully on your tongue, jolting your jaw open.

“Out.” Rhett barked. You instinctively pushed your tongue past your lips and let it hang freely. He lowered his head and pursed his lips together again. Another splat of his salvia fell onto your tongue and ran down to the back of your throat. “No more excuses, my pretty whore. Drink down your communion wine.” A shudder ran up the bones of your spine and settled at your neck, with warm beads of sweat already breaking out. A measly whimper came up and out from your throat, but you were left spluttering around the head of Rhett’s cock as his hand gripped onto your head and tugged you down. You swallowed once around him and let the mix of your salvia’s coat his length before sinking down a further few more inches.

The first real groan left him, followed by a greedy curse of your name. The base of your tongue ran under his shaft and traced along a protruding vein. He shuddered at the sensation and resumed his position as before. He was leaning back on one of his arms with the camera angled perfectly against you. You had now sunk down completely to his pubic bone and his soft brown curls tickled at the tip of your nose. You ran your lips back up his length to swirl around his tip a handful of times and then sunk back down. Over and over you repeated this motion, and pride swelled in your chest when the sound of Rhett’s pleasure met your ears.

“Look at me.” Rhett croaked out in-between his stuttered breaths. You peeked up through your lashes and gazed directly into the camera. “Jesus. Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned at the messy sight. Your lips were stretched around his thick girth and your cheeks were painted a rosy blush. Although you were looking up at him and you moved your mouth over his cock, your eyes had crinkled in the corners with your lashes fluttering occasionally. You were clearly trying to keep your eyes on him as instructed, but the tears stinging at your waterline were becoming more prominent, and you were blinking in flurry’s to hold them back.

“‘memeber when I first had y’ in the confessional booth. Look at you now, too far gone on your Preacher’s cock. God made you for me himself.”

A loud moan from yourself vibrated around his cock, although it was muffled as your mouth was currently stuffed full. The guiding praise from Rhett was giving you a new found confidence and you wanted to put on a show for your Preacher. You continued to run your lips all the way down his length and let his tip push at the back of your throat. You could start to taste the bitter salt of his pre-cum forming at his tip, and on each shove to the back of your throat, you let out a crude gagging sound. At each push, Rhett would groan himself and follow with his sweet praises.

“Good girl. That’s it, take your Preacher’s cock. You were made to take me.”

More of your salvia was gathering in your mouth and you let it freely fall from the corners of your lips. It dribbled down your chin and dripped onto the stockings. More would pool and each time your mouth dragged up to Rhett’s tip, his cock would glisten wet.

You had made the best of your efforts to hold your fluttering gaze towards the camera. He looked again into the screen, but this time he let out a low, almost mocking, chuckle. He watched as one or two tears finally spilled over your eyes and streaked down your burning cheeks. The camera could catch everything from his laid back view and he noticed how your thighs were starting to chafe against each other. His lips quirked up into a sly and all knowing smirk.

“Need somethin’?” He berated down towards you. Your eyebrows turned upwards as if to plead for your Preacher. “If you need somethin’, you must pray for it.” You let out a defeated whimper, but Rhett only raised one of his eyebrows as if to question if you were about to become a whiny little brat. “The Lord worked hard to earn His followers respect. You must do the same.”

You pulled off the tip of his cock with a string of salvia connecting from his head to your bottom lip. You started to quietly mumble out, “our Father in heaven—”

“Louder.”

You swallowed down what little left of your pride you had left and raised your voice and octave higher.

“— hallowed be your name;”

“Look ‘ere,” Rhett grabbed a tight fistful of your hair and pulled your head upwards to look at the camera. You quickly blinked back the next flow of tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks and continued.

“Allow me to press my Preacher’s pussy to my Preacher’s boot and feel some relief.”

You decided the cooling stream of your tears over your cheeks would be better than anything right now, as your cheeks flushed in heat with embarrassment from your words. You stared directly into the camera and in unison with Rhett, you finished your fleeting prayer with, “Amen.”

“Good, little lamb.” Rhett grunted and pushed your mouth back down and onto his cock. You felt his boot come between your knees and forcefully kick your thighs open. You accepted the wide girth of his boot greedily and caught your clothed clit on the tip of his boot. Your mouth sank back down to Rhett’s pelvic bone and you ground your hips down eagerly onto the worn leather.

The pressure felt delicious on your aching clit, as you rocked your hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion, similar to the one your mouth was making. You could no longer stifle your needy moans and you let your throat wail in muffled sounds around his strained length.

“I know, angel, I know,” he purred with his hand still coursing through your hair and guiding you. “Feels s’ good, doesn’t it? My pretty pussy got s’ needy.”

The rhythmic motions you were providing Rhett caused him to groan your name softly with each flick of your tongue around his head. His body was hurtling closer towards his definite release, but he still had more that he wanted to capture on camera. With a final grunt, he pulled you off his cock by your hair. You let out a protested cry. The sudden movement had jolted your body and re-directed the ecstasy inducing pressure off your clit.

“Hush, lamb.” Strings of salvia trailed from your lips, with your glassy eyes swimming in your own tears. “You gon’ let your Preacher have you? From the fuckin’ mess you’ve made on my boot, it’d be a sin not to feel my cunt squeezin’ me tight.” You nodded eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly for Rhett, as it caused him to bark out a laugh, mocking you.

He stood up and you moved with him. He momentarily dropped the camera to the bed as you helped him pull off the rest of his clothes in a flurry. His chest was flush a bright pink, and as he removed the final item of clothing, his cock slapped against his abdomen between your bodies. You followed him like a lamb would to the slaughter, as he lay back on the bed and picked up the camera. He positioned himself to rest up against the pillows so he could hold the camera and keep his gaze fixated on what he was recording. He patted his bare thigh and motioned for you to come over.

“Bet my pretty little pussy was so desperate to come,” Rhett mocked as you pouted ever so slightly. He was right. “C’ ere and sit on your Preacher’s cock. If you put on a good enough show, I’ll let y’ come.”

You let out a languid moan. Your thighs were already burning from the constant grinding on his boot, but like your Preacher had already told you as he marked your ass shades of black and blue, if it feels good, then it can’t be bad. Having a sweet thing like yourself be completely immoral in a stranger’s lap would be something any man would want, yet you could only share this with Rhett. It was something only you, could have the power over.

With this new found confidence, you climbed atop of the Motel bed and slid your underwear off, with the garter belt and stockings still firmly attached. You were going to put on a show that anyone would wish they had.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” You mused Rhett with a small smirk gracing your features as you straddled his waist. You raised your eyebrows to await his response. His spare hand reached round to give a fleeting smack to your ass, causing you to yelp in response, partly due to the already residing marks from earlier.

“Atta girl, you’re learning.” Rhett was quick to quip back at you as you braced one hand on his chest and your other hand reached to grab at his cock. It was silky and warm under the base, and you had no issue gathering the pre-cum that was beading at his swollen tip with your thumb and smoothing it over. You guided his tip to nudge at your entrance, catching your clit on the way and letting out a whimper.

“‘member who’s in charge ‘ere,” Rhett taped at the camera pointing your way and you submitted to putting on an immoral show in your Preachers lap. Both your hands were now bracing his chest as you sank yourself all the way down on his length. Guttural groans escaped you both as Rhett filled you whole. He could feel your warm walls squeeze around him, warmer than usual, yet still all encompassing that it made his toes curl. You squirmed your hips down to meet his, taking his cock all the way to the base and feeling his swollen head nudge not so far from your cervix. Once your walls had fluttered around him and emitted the feeling to memory, you made work of your thighs and bounced gently at first. If it wasn’t for your hands bracing Rhett right now, you would’ve toppled over on him.

Rhett peered through the view finder and watched with his bottom lip gripped tightly between his teeth at the Heaven shattering sight before him. Your eyes were pinched tightly shut, but your lips were parted and letting out an endless string of needy moans. From this angle of you leaning forward, he could register your tongue just teasing at your bottom lip, threatening to fall from your mouth completely as he fucked you closer towards that teetering edge. Your breasts were moving in time with your rhythmic bounces, and your nipples had turned into stiff peaks. The soft colour that matched against the inside of your pussy made drool pool in Rhett’s mouth. From this angle, he couldn’t have a taste, but he could do what he adored most. Make you squirm and whine.

His free fingers reached out and pinched at your hardened nipples to earn a shriek being torn from your throat. He twisted at your right nub harshly and even though cries were tearing from you, you pushed your chest forward to keen into the painful pleasure. He wanted to see more from you, but his ears were zoning in on the sounds you were making and he trusted in his gut feeling to check on you. He removed his hand from your swollen breasts and placed them on your hip to still your rocking motions, the camera going down with it.

His thumb ran soothing circles over your hip bone as if to signal to you to stop for a moment. A soft look had replaced his hardened gaze. “Y’ okay, little lamb? Y’ need to tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded as you panted heavily. You wet your bottom lip to speak, “promise, Rhett. Feels s’ good, p-please, need you.” A beat went by.

“Safe word?”

“Bull riding.”

Rhett wore a smile to match his softened gaze and he leaned up to press a admiring kiss to your swollen lips. When he pulled away and came back to resume his previous position, picking up the camera in tow, his face shifted back in a flash. It made your cunt clench as it resembled something close to the Devil himself. That something you had seen in the woods.

You resumed your previous ministrations and your hips continued to bounce rhythmically. Rhett wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around your tender nipples and pinching at them gently to elicit further cries from yourself. With one particularly harsh twist from his index finger, your head was thrown back and your hips pushed further. You ground your hips into Rhett’s and you could feel the tip of his cock slide neatly along the sweet, spongy spot, inside of you. The sensation of after burn on your nipples stung deliciously in combination. To soothe yourself you brought one of your own hands up to toy and stroke over your nipples. Your jaw had now gone slack, as your head was thrown back and your chest was rising and falling erratically.

Rhett let out a guttural grunt in response to this sight and shifted his hips to lazily meet yours. “Look at you,” he matched with a lazy drawl in his tone. “Preacher’s best girl, puttin’ on a show for Daddy.” He focused the camera directly onto the sight before him. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this.

With every shift of your hips bouncing on his cock, you could feel your clit bump against his soft curls and occasionally provided a teasingly millimeter of friction. You needed more, but no matter how deep you grounded your hips down, it provided no release and you were left edging yourself. Your thighs were starting to give in entirely, with a thin veil of sweat coating your flesh and chafing against Rhett’s own. Mumbled nothings were falling from your lips with silent cries.

“I- I… Daddy,” you managed to usher out. It was a pitiful plead of mercy for your Daddy. You needed him now. Your own body was failing you with exhaustion. You needed him to take care of you.

Rhett could hear your soft plea, how your voice was failing you and how your hip movements were becoming sloppy. Your mind was teetering on the edge of complete nothingness. It was about to break and run it’s course into a headspace that made you entirely susceptible to causing more harm to yourself than you could really take. But Rhett was there to slow down your de-railing. As God loved him, Rhett was to love and care for you. You were his responsibility and therefore it was his responsibility to catch you gently when you fell softly into that headspace that rendered you completely, fucked, dumb.

The camera was placed on the bed and his hands came up to still your shuddering body. He shushed you gently and breathed out, “alright, my sweet lamb. Let Daddy take care of his best girl.”

His broad palms gripped at your torso and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. He lay you down on the bed with your head facing the end. He carted his fingers through your hair that was falling haphazardly over your forehead and getting stuck in the beads of your sweat that was pooling. He gently cradled your supple cheek and the baby hairs that lay there. His thumb soothed over the heat rising in your cheeks and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your parted lips.

His own hair tickled at your skin and you hummed into his mouth. Your giggles bubbled to the surface and Rhett reacted with his own. His familiar warmth was surrounding you and encompassing you whole as his lips didn’t stop moving against yours. A taste of a cigarette and lukewarm beer were fading on his tongue, but it was still there, something that ground you closer to your Preacher. Yet, at the same time, it had you falling through the mattress to somewhere safe.

Rhett parted from your swollen lips momentarily and you let out a disappointed whine, turning them into a small pout. You wrapped your hands around the base of his neck and toyed with the damp licks of hair, in an attempt to draw him back to you, but he resisted for a moment. His thumb lifted between you both and ran along your pouted lips, smoothing them out.

“Need y’ to tell me, my sweet lamb. Can you continue?” He purred.

You replied with a, “yes,” and barely above a whisper, with a small nod of your head. To anyone else, your admittance of submission was feeble, but Rhett had you mapped out on the back of his hand. He could read every inch of your body and how it responded to him. He could read this clearly and he followed through by slipping his thumb passed your lips and pressing down on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut and suckled down greedily, eager to have anything of Rhett inside of you and filling you whole. He nudged his knelt thigh between your legs and pressed up against your cunt. Your clit was left painfully un-touched by this point and he could feel it throb as you instinctively rubbed yourself up and over his tight muscle. There was a lewd sound of your wetness squishing against him and something of a growl left his throat.

“Jesus, fuckin’ soaked for your Preacher, aren’t you? Nasty, needy, little harlot.” Rhett sneered down at you. His demeanor had switched back to cold-blooded, but you knew you were safe with this version of Rhett and his venomous words only sent shocks to your swollen bundle of nerves. You were desperately chasing your high once again on his thigh, but it was ripped away from you coldly as he pulled away and issued a direct, smack! directly onto your cunt.

This was your fall from grace and two tears finally slipped over your waterline and stung at your warm cheeks. He smoothed them over with his thumb, but in contrast, he only cooed mockingly at you.

“Cry all you want, darlin’. You’re takin’ what I give you. Now—” he got off the bed and retrieved the camera that had fallen to the side. He placed it on the worn out and chipped desk facing the bed and came back to position you. He slid his arm under your back and twisted you so you were now on your hands and knees, facing the camera. He tugged at your scalp and then pinched your chin to direct your gaze directly ahead to the camera. “— smile for your Preacher, sweet girl. You are Daddy’s best girl, after all.”

His words made you squirm and without direction, your back was arched slightly to show Rhett the curvature of your ass. Two of his calloused hands ghosted down your spine and lay at their final resting place on your hips. He squeezed at your tender flesh and let a groan slip at the sight of your glistening cunt.

One hand was removed and fisted at the base of his throbbing cock. He slapped his heavy member against your lips and let it drag through your folds and nudge at your clit. It made lewd sounds, the sounds of your own wet cunt causing your cheeks to return to a dusty red colour. You both moaned together as he let his tip slip past your folds and tease at the beginning of your entrance. You immediately clenched down on him as he slipped the first inch in. You were unable to hold back the string of pathetic whines, and you bucked your hips back to try and chase his length that he was slowly inching in.

“Daddy, p- ‘lease!” Rhett hushed you in an attempt to soothe you, but it was broken by his own grunt as he eventually bottomed out completely inside of you.

“S’ fuckin’ tight for your Preacher, lil’ lamb. Y’ were made for me, weren’t you?” You nodded feebly at the camera ahead of you.

You wrapped yourself warmly around him and clenched tighter as Rhett slowly started to move his hips against you and build a steady rhythm. At each push back in, he nudged deeply at the sweet spot inside of you and it had your knuckles turning white, gripping the thin Motel bed sheets below you and carting you forward with each thrust.

He found a comfortable grip with one hand on your hip as the pace picked up. His other hand found itself buried at the base of your neck and his fingers intertwined to the base hairs that lay there. He grabbed a tight fistful, pulling harshly on your roots with a yelp from yourself. This new found position caused your back to arch further and your hands scrambled on the bedsheets below to try and hold yourself up. That, combined with Rhett’s now brutal thrusts, his thick tip was waging no mercy on your sweet and abused cunt.

It caused you to hold direct eye contact with the camera in front of you, as it documented clearly to anyone who would watch, how your Preacher would ruin his little lamb inch by inch. It was as though he was pulling you apart thread by thread and weaving himself a new found pleasure. You caught a glimpse of Rhett himself in the corner of the mirror, that was situated off to the side of the desk where the camera was sitting and dear God, you had never seen such a prettier sight.

His hair was mused and tussled stray strands of hair fell against his forehead and tickled against his rosy cheeks. There was a small layer of sweat forming already, and nestled deep in the creases of his forehead as his eyebrows knitted tightly together in concentration at sight before him. His piercing eyes that always had you clenching, were trained directly at the sight of his thick cock sliding in and out of you, your own arousal already slicking him and layering at the edges of your lips.

His jaw was set firm, but his lips were slightly parted in comparison to allow for hot puffs of air and guttural grunts. His shoulder muscles, and all the way down to his forearms, were compacted tightly together and bulging. Prodding veins in his forearm were shadowed perfectly in the low light of the Motel room, dusted by his arm hair that grew thicker at the base of his hands. His chest was flush and the rosy pink dusted over his tattoo on his peck, blending into one.

His lips parted further to speak, “look at you, my pretty Western sunshine. I’ve found heaven in you, little lamb.” His voice was hoarse and yet his Southern drawl was still low and boldly coming through, wetted by the gasps of air he was currently letting out. He had found heaven in time where your own Western sunshine met his deep Southern wet. He was lost in it, lost in the feeling, lost in the taste, and he found himself hard-pressed for air and sweating.

The concoction of the reek of sex and sweat hung heavy in the dingy Motel room. Rhett’s pin point accurate thrusts were pushing you closer to the edge that you had so desperately been craving all night. The knot that was settled deep in your lower abdomen was threatening to snap anytime soon, but there was something else missing. Like clockwork, and how well Rhett knew your body like the back of his hand, his hand from your hip slipped down and his rough padded fingers found your aching bundle of nerves. You let out a broken sob and your eyes squeezed tightly shut at finally relishing in the feeling. His thrusts became sloppier as he let your hip go, but his thick cock that was still moving in and out of you, gave no room for error. His fingertips ran calculated circles and you continued to let out broken sounded moans. You were getting louder with each swipe, but you didn’t care. You paid no mind to the other Motel dwellers next door. You were completely unaware that Rhett heard a couple of thuds on the wall next to you. For him, it only added fuel to the Hellfire you were currently drawing him down to.

“Y’ wan’ to come, angel face?” You pathetically whined out a, “yes,” and let out a louder cry when Rhett tugged harshly on your hair to signal at you to open your eyes. Your eyes peeled open and at this admission, the tears that had been stinging on your waterline fell freely. Your pleasure was heightened to a tipping point so high, that you had no idea what would happen when you fell. “Y’ can come, but watch yourself. Watch your fuckin’ pathetic self.” Rhett seethed with condescension laced thick on his tongue.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou…” You babbled out repeatedly in a weak attempt to show your gratitude. You could feel yourself ready to fall. Your skull felt as though it was full with cotton and your eyes completely glazed over as you stared mindlessly into the camera.

Rhett let his fingers swipe continuously over your now completely abused clit, and he felt you clench and twitch around him. “Come. Come for y’ fuckin’ Preacher.”

The mix of his cock still moving with pin point accuracy inside of you, and the swipe of his fingertips, caused you to fall helplessly with the only cord attached to Rhett. Your jaw went slack, unable to hold the drool that cornered in your mouth and it slipped down your chin as your orgasm came and washed over you like a furious tidal wave. The all encompassing and pleasurable feeling started in your abdomen and blossomed outwards to reach each point of your body, setting your nerves alight. It caused your toes to curl tightly inwards at the base of Rhett’s knees and your chest heave furiously, trying to catch up with the labored moans you were currently letting out.

You weren’t aware how tight you were squeezing around Rhett. Whilst caught up in your own storm, you heard him behind you groan and curse your name with a sinisterly sick tone. “Gon’ fill you up, precious lil’ lamb. Gon’ make y’ full of me, y’ want that?” You were vaguely aware of Rhett’s own begging behind you. “Fill this womb with God’s spend, give y’ children of God.”

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for at this point. Anything to keep this euphoric feeling going you would settle for. His thrusts became sloppier than before and his cock twitched inside of you. His fingers were still lazily working around your clit and you mewled out at the overstimulation he was causing you. His thrusts were deep and he let out an even deeper, guttural groan, but they turned shallow as you felt his own spend leak inside of you. You squeezed him tightly at this point, as to milk him for all that he was worth. You wanted God’s children to blossom in your womb.

You had admitted defeat and your arms were shaking to try and hold yourself up. You fell forward on the mattress with a pitiful whine. Rhett gulped down air behind you and let out soft groans as his cock soften inside of your wet walls. You winced as he pulled out and you felt a mix of fluids drip from your swollen and puffy lips. Your body thrummed with the coming downs of pleasure and you let your hips fall to the bed when he let go of your frame. You squirmed into the bedsheets, rubbing your flesh over the material in a weak attempt to ground yourself, but there was no need. Warm hands of your Preacher slinked around your waist and drew you up from the mattress.

“My sweet, sweet, beautiful lamb. C’ ere.” His voice was like honey in your ear. The warmth of his breath was causing goosebumps to flesh over your neck. His large, yet damp with sweat, arms encased you against his. You could feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat match up to yours as he held you tightly against his chest for a moment. Skin on skin contact like a baby would have with their mother. Your own sweat was mixing together and puffs of his breath coated your warm cheek.

He maneuvered himself to sit against the headboard with one arm wrapped around your trembling body. Tender fingers from his spare hand slinked upwards at the base of your neck. They were far softer in contrast to the ones that were cruelly tugging on your hair before. They reached upwards and brushed the strands of hair that were stuck to your forehead, tucking them gingerly behind your ear. His thumb and index finger cautiously caught your chin and titled your low hanging head to look at him. Your eyelashes fluttered open and you met Rhett’s face with a weary and blissed out smile.

“You okay?” He moved his hand to cradle your jaw as if it was made of glass. His thumb brushed over the stained tears above your rosy cheek.

“Did I do good?” You voice was hoarse and it caused Rhett’s heart to twinge in his chest. You were his responsibility to take care of and he would be damned to Hell if he didn’t.

“M’ love, you did s’ good. M’ s’ proud of you.” Your weary smile was still there, but you seemed to appear proud. “Can I kiss you, sweet lamb?”

“Please, Rhett. Need you.” You called out to him. He was right there in front of you, but you needed your Preacher to wrap you tightly in his arms and wash away your sins down the basin of the Motel sink drain.

Rhett moved his face to be millimeters away from your lips. Barely above a whisper, he reassured you faintly, yet his words were set in stone. “M’ always here. Never goin’ to leave you. You’re mine forever. I love you.”

Your lips brushed against each other when you replied. “Love you too, Rhett.”

He did exactly as you needed. He cleaned you up with his ever tender and cautious touch. He never left your side and you clung tightly to him when his lips met your ears with honeyed words of praise. However, through a force unknown to you, your body was startled and you awoke from the throws of sleep, wrapped tightly up in Rhett’s arms.

Your bleary eyes adjusted to the dim bedside lamp that was still on. The two of you were too exhausted to switch it off after. The sight of the soft light electrified something in you and you were frustratingly, now wide awake, for lack of better word.

You un-tangled yourself from his arms and he shifted against the pillows to lie on his back. One of his arms came up to stretch behind his head, with his bicep muscles contorting shadows in the light. His hair was tousled, and soft strands fell and framed his face in such a way that made your town Preacher look angelic. The ends of his hair tickled at his hardline jaw, with the four day old stubble coming through. The thin cotton Motel bed sheet was falling haphazardly over his frame and his soft curls with the base of his cock, peeked out from underneath. You retrieved the camera and it whirred to life, clicking in places inside as the flashing red button on the front focused on his sleeping frame. Rhett had never looked more beautiful as he slept naked, due to the air con in the Motel room failing you both once again, and you wanted to remember this serene moment for as long as you lived.

You caught your own reflection in the mirror with bleached corners and tainted glass. You let out a quiet gasp in response and zoomed in on the picture through the tiny screen. Painted over your hips and the back of your thighs, were shades of black and blue. They showcased the way Rhett knew how to show his love.

You were oblivious to the fact he heard the room next door beat on the walls while you were face-first down in the bed mere hours ago. You also weren’t aware of Rhett pummeling a stranger to the floor outside the bar across the street from the diner, because the stranger called you a sickly name. The lovesick haze that clouded your vision entirely with Rhett was unforgivable.Trouble was always going to find him and weather you were aware of it or not, so would you with his guidance. If Rhett loved you like he said he did, you would hold a gun to someone’s head if he asked you to.

On some nights, you were alone in the Motel rooms when Rhett was out. You’d sit on the edge of the bed, facing the television, with tears falling over you cheeks and reflecting in the television static. Yet, your tears came from a place of happiness. You had him to hold you each night as you crossed every state line to reach the West. You knew you’d be alright, as you turned off the camera and slid back into the familiar embrace of your Preacher.

He had now rolled over onto his side and you pressed yourself into his bare back that emitted the warmth of a furnace. Your arms wrapped themselves over his ribs and you could feel the steady rhythm of the rise and fall of his lungs. You would cling to him like some love blind addict. You were always itching for your next fix. Always awaiting the dopamine induced high to flood your senses when you were next to him. You wanted to feel him run hot through your veins and hit the sweet spot in your head that would leave you with your eyes rolling back into your skull and begging for more. Always desperate to scream his name as you drove by the gas stations and trailed down the interstate.

“I’m never gonna leave you, baby.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and your lips brushed against Rhett’s flesh on his back, muffling the sound of reassurance. Even if Rhett was to lose what’s left of his depraved and fortified mind, you’d still be right there besides him. You’d ride with him through every Western night you departed on, and you knew that one day, you and Rhett could be ok.

Rhett pulled his truck off to the side of the road and pulled up on the dirt track. You had finally reached the edge after all this time. You wasted no time and flung open the passenger door, inhaling the near costal air deep into your lungs. You had reached the coast.

Rhett joined you and got out to lean against the front of his truck. He hovered slightly as it was still burning hot from the hours of driving. You both took in the view and spotted the far off shoreline in California from the cliff side he was currently parked up at.

“End of the line.”

You spun around from the cliff side railings and walked back to Rhett as he spoke. You had a spring in each step and you planted yourself between his thighs. His arms came round to encase you against his chest with the warm sun beating down on you both. You looked up at him with hope shining in your eyes for the first time in months, “we made it this far.”

Rhett’s eyebrows quirked upwards, before furrowing slightly as he gazed outwards at the land in front of him. The sun caught in his eyes and caused him to squint. This was a new town, a fresh start, where people wouldn’t know either of you and no one would truly know if you went missing. He looked back down at you and his face broke out into an animated and electrified smile. “‘nd look at what I’ve got.” His hold on your waist became tighter and you felt your feet leave the ground. A squeal, followed by laughter, bubbled out from your chest as Rhett span you around. He placed you back down to the dust eventually, “love’s out there, and we can’t leave it be anymore.”

You craned your neck upwards and pressed your palms against his chest to steady your lips that were now millimeters away from his. You whispered, as if no one else was privy to your agreement, “I'll come with you if you're sure it's what you need.” Because you knew, in Rhett’s pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place you’d ever want to be.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch

tagging those who may be interested: @peachystenbrough @sunblchdfly @rhettabbotts @bradshawsbitch @bobfloyds @lewmagoo @sushiwriterhere @sugarcoated-lame

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k

contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep 🤐 includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~

A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL

read on AO3!

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

~*~

In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.

On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.

Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.

You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.

The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.

And you have no idea what to make of it.

Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.

“Did you stay late last night?”

You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”

He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.

Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”

You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.

“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”

“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.

Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.

It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.

Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.

“Yoongi?”

He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”

You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.

You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.

Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.

Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.

Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”

You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”

He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”

You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.

“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”

Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”

Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.

“Can you turn on the mic?”

His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”

“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”

Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.

“Sugaaaaa.”

The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.

Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”

You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.

The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.

Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?

You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.

The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.

You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.

As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end.

You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.

When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.

Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.

The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.

As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.

He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.

The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.

You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.

There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.

You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.

Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.

As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.

You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”

He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.

“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”

He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”

His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”

You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.

Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”

“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”

“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”

You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.

“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.

“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.

“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”

You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.

“He was nervous, Jungkook.”

When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.

“What, did he tell you that?”

You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”

“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”

A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.

His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.

The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.

As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.

You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.

“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”

“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.

“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”

You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.

“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.

You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.

It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.

He’s asleep.

You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”

He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.

“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”

“I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”

You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”

The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”

“I said go home.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”

“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”

Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”

The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I’ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”

You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.

~*~

As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.

You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.

He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.

There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.

You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.

“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”

Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.

Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”

You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.

Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.

Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.

He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.

Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.

~*~

It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.

Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.

“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.

The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.

It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”

Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.

When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”

You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”

“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”

You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”

“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”

You give him the same look right back. “You what?”

“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.

“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”

Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”

You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”

He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”

The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”

Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”

“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”

“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.

His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”

Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”

As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.

You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.

Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.

With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.

You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.

It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.

You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hi.”

There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.

“I was just wondering—”

“Is there a reason you—”

“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”

Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

“Answer the question, asshole.”

There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”

“Great, same here.”

Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”

Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”

“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”

“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”

He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”

You swallow hard as the call disconnects.

The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.

“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”

“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”

Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”

“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

~*~

Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.

“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”

Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.

Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.

“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.

“Never met one I didn’t like.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.

The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.

He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.

You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.

Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.

“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”

At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”

Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”

“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.”

Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”

Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”

He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”

Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”

The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”

You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”

You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”

He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”

Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.

“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”

“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.

He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.

“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.

“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.

“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.

“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”

There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.

“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”

The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream.

But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.

“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”

“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.

“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”

It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.

“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.

“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.

“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”

“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”

There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”

“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”

Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”

With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”

You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.

As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.

When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.

Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”

Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.

“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.

The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”

You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.

“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.

Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.

It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.

The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.

It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.

You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.

As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.

“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.

Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.

Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.

He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”

You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”

“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.

“Oh, fuck, just like that.”

With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.

“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”

His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”

Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”

Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”

As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.

It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.

“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.

Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.

“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”

The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.

“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”

Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”

“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.

It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.

“What the fuck,” you breathe.

Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”

He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.

“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.

Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.

Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.

“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”

The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.

There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.

Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”

It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.

You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”

The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”

Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.

“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”

You shake your head. “Not with me.”

A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”

His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”

You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”

“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.

With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.

“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.

You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.

You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.

“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”

The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.

So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.

It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.

He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.

“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”

It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.

“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.

“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”

You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.

His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”

Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.

“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.

You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.

He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.

You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.

When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.

He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.

“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.

You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.

It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.

You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”

“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”

The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”

Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”

“I— what?”

“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”

That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”

Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”

Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”

“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”

You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.

“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”

You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”

Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”

Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.

The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.

You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.

You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.

The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.

“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.

His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.

You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.

With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.

After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.

When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.

He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.

As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.

Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.

You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed.

Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.

He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.

You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.

You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.

For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.

When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.

Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.

~*~

You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.

But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.

You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.

The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.

“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.

To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”

You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”

“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”

You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”

“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”

Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.

Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.

Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.

It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.

Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”

You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”

“What do you mean?”

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.

“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.

“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”

Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”

You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”

“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”

Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.

“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”

His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”

The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”

“I know we are,” he says softly.

“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.

“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.

“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”

When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”

You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”

The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.

~*~

It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.

“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.

“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”

You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”

Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.

Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.

It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.

You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.

“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.

Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.

He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning.

“I guess so,” you answer.

Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

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smg-syn-ghostfictives · 20 days

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"The Monster's Gone"

Rain ghoul & Papa Copia age regression fic

Note: I was listening to a song and this fic wrote itself after appearing in my head. This is also my first fic posted here so if you're mean, I'll cry (maybe). Feel free to send requests! I can't guarantee I'll write it though

Plot: Rain has a nightmare and wakes up little, just terrified. Thankfully, Copia finds him. SFW Age Regression, kinks DNI

Warnings: Mentions of blood, depictions of drowning (nightmare), crying, just generally not having a good time. There is comfort though!

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*Air bubbles up from his mouth as he claws through the water. His fins feel useless despite being submerged in his own element. He tries to breathe, only to feel as if his gills have been taped- or maybe stapled shut.*

*His neck* **burns** *with the ache to breathe from his gills, his chest following shortly after. Why can't he breathe? Why is he not able to traverse the water to the surface?*

*When Rain looks down, he realizes why. Wrapped around one ankle is a weighted chain, dragging him deeper and deeper. To where? Why is this familiar? The bassist's heart sinks as the familiar reef grows darker.* **The Pit.**

*He lets out a gutteral cry, knowing he's just wasting more precious oxygen, but he can't help it. More bubbles flood from his mouth and he can't tell if the salt he tastes is from his tears or the water. Maybe both.*

Rain wakes up with an aching gasp, gills greedily opening to suck in more air. He chokes from how fast he breathes it all in, taking a minute to painstakingly slow down the desperate gulps into manageable breaths.

"'was a dream. M okay." He mumbles, looking around his room to reinforce the idea in his mind. However, his brain has a different idea as it takes in the ocean themed room, finding a dark corner of his room the perfect place to force the thought of "There's a monster here to drag you to the pit."

Logically, Rain is a smart man. He knows monsters don't exist. Hell, he's the closest thing to a monster, being a ghoul and all. But the simple thought has his mind slipping frantically into a panic. A child-like yelp of fear leaving him before he bites hard on his hand to muffle the sounds, lest the monster hears.

His muffled cries weren't silent enough though, as the frontman of the band was walking through the halls when he hears it. Unmistakably, sobbing coming from the bassist's room.

Despite his close relationship with the pack, he still gets nervous with emotional situations. What if he messes up and is hated by his ghouls forever? Before he can contemplate his next actions, he's opening the door to Rain's room, face growing softer at the trembling form of the water ghoul.

Copia doesn't miss the way they tense, blood dribbling down from where they're biting themselves to stay quiet, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

He slowly walks closer to the crying ghoul, sitting on the bed carefully. His face fills with sorrow at pitiful cry that Rain lets out as he tries to gently remove the ghoul's fangs from their hand.

"Ah ah, no biting little one." He chides gently. The sad little whine in response lets him know that his guess of Rain being regressed right now was correct.

All too carefully, he 'tsks' quietly as he gently pries the sharp teeth out of the delicate skin that the ghoul had pierced. "Hey, hey now, no need for tears little one. Can you tell me what's happening in your little brain?"

The bassist lets out a sob, instantly curling up into his Papa while cradling his hand to his chest. He didn't realize how much it hurt until now. "H-huwrts! A- a- an da mmonsers an- n- drownnin!" He hiccups out, fumbling over his words as tears pour down his face.

Copia tries to keep his face neutral, hand coming up to card through the water ghoul's hair, the other going to rub his back gently. "Shh.. shh.. it's okay, guppy. I've got you." His brain was turning wheels and cogs as he tried to put the pieces of information together.

"You.. had a bad dream, Rainstorm?" He asked gently, not missing the detail of the regressor's legs trembling with what he knows is a shooting pain. "M.. Mhm." Rain sniffles out, a sob threatening them again.

Copia hums as he contemplates his decision. "Good job, Rainy! Being such a brave boy! Can I know how old my good baby is?" The water ghoul trills at the praise, fins twitching with happiness. He shyly puts up four fingers, chirping with glee as Copia scratches under his chin.

"Four, eh? What a big ghoul you are! So brave to fight those scary nightmares all by yourself! But it's okay, I'm here now. Papa's got you." His voice is light but genuine, moving the curled up ghoul onto his lap as he moves them to be comfortable in the center of the bed.

"Rest now, little one." He says gently, noticing the little ghoul's eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion from crying.

"Close your eyes... Have no fear... The monster's gone. He's on the run. And your daddy is here..."

"*Beautiful,*"

"*Beautiful....*"

"*Beautiful boy....*"

Copia presses a soft kiss to Rain's forehead, right where his hairline is. Gently running his hand through the now sleeping water ghoul's hair. "Rest up, guppy. Papa's got you."

#rain ghoul #ghost the band #papa copia #papa emeritus iv #copia #ghost copia #cardinal copia #rain ghost #sfw agere #age regressor #agere #ghost age regression #ghost agere #writing #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #the band ghost

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thiniceofeternalyouth · 7 months

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MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER FIVE

SHADOW BEHOLDER

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of drugs, profanity, mentions of alcohol and smoking, slight yandere themes (if you squint);

Words count: ~10.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[July 3, 2019; 07:02pm; hunter's headquarters]

Cumulus torn clouds floated breezily ahead framing the overcast sunset in the distance, and something dark stretched out on the horizon; it was unclear whether it was the peaks of the sunset-shadowed mountains, or a dark long cloud. The breaking sunlight colored the damp haze rising from the sea orange, and the sight of it made her eyes ripple. Or maybe it was the wine.

Rachel walked drunkenly down from the rock outcropping toward the cliff holding a bottle of wine in each hand high above her head. Her feet tripped over every little rock or tiny notch, but she'd rather smash her face than the bottles of red semi-dry.

Sitting on the sunbaked grass, Shoko looked at her sympathetically. She took another drag and let the tart smoke of the cigarette billow out of her lungs to freedom. "Alcoholic."

Rachel clumsily plopped down next to her and placed the bottles on the ground as neatly as possible. "Hey, ya actually drank more than me."

"Unlike someone, I know how to drink," Shoko put out her cigarette on the ground and threw the butt into the fire pit. "Did you bring a corkscrew?"

Rachel leaned on her arm squeezing her flushed cheek and drunkenly clucked her tongue. "Shit."

"Let's do old school then," Shoko said handing Rachel a bunch of keys.

Rachel took the keys accompanying the action with a respectful oblique nod. "As ya say, my queen," She began picking at the sawdust cork with the key edge trying to push it inward. Once Rachel had the point about halfway into the cork, she covered the key with her palms and applied force to push it in, and at that moment, a red liquid enveloped her hands and face.

"Elegant," Shoko said rolling her eyes irritably.

"But it worked," Rachel chirped wiping the wine from her face with her sleeve. "Gimme your glass."

Rachel poured the alcohol into wineglasses and leaned against a ribbed rock gazing out at the burning sun. The sound of the wind-disturbed forest could be heard behind them, and the waves crashing against the rocks tried in vain to reach their feet.

Rachel took another sip and turned back to Shoko. "Ya know," Rachel said stretching her words drunkenly. "When I first saw ya, I couldn't even imagine ya being quite the outgoing person."

"Guess I'll have to put your name on my list of people with stereotypical thinking now," Shoko said deftly pulling another cigarette from the pack.

Rachel pouted her lips and gave the most contrite look possible. She realized from Shoko's raised eyebrows that she'd gone a little overboard. "Forget it," she snatched the cigarette out of Ieiri's hands and took a drag.

"Listen," Shoko turned around and looked back at the windows in the cliff. "Are there really so few hunters? I thought it was us who had manpower problem."

Rachel shook her head slightly fearing more dizziness. "Old generation hunters live in Hopetown, and our higher-ups just put the voidrunners away from everyone else. They figure that if the dioreacts planning a large-scale attack, we'll be the first ones to get hit, since we've trespassed on their territory."

Shoko could no longer make out the clear lines on the horizon, the rainy sunset blurring into a gray-orange mess. She set her glass aside and rested her head unashamedly in Rachel's lap staring up at the sky. "Well, the hell is the old generation for?"

"To level up and learn to enter the void, hunters have to put your consciousness through isolation. Not everyone is willing to do that, so they stick to the old ways," Rachel rested her head on the rock gazing upward with Shoko. "I can't even tell ya what exactly is going on in isolation because when maintainer escorted me through, I didn't even realize it. It was like fingers snapped and something changed inside me."

Shoko hummed skeptically. "Not everyone is willing to spend a second of their life to become stronger? So much for nonsense."

"Who knows how much time we actually spend in there? Only maintainer feels time in isolation," Rachel said exhaling heavily.

"And I still don't see it as a big deal."

"Coz ya only see survivors," Rachel said and completely forgetting about the glass reached for the bottle. One must either avoid unpleasant conversations or drunk them down. "Most of hunters who wished to become voidrunners died before they were able to enter the void. Their consciousnesses were lost in isolation. Or they dissolved there, dunno. "

"I see," Shoko said coldly. She was twirling her auburn curl around her finger out of old habit. "Your higher-ups have gotten comfortable. Putting people through isolation and the only ones who managed to survive are shooed away like lepers to take the hit."

Rachel chuckled softly pressing the bottle to her flaming cheeks. "They're not the ones leading us in. The higher-ups don't really like us at all, or maybe they hate the very idea of entering void. Not much difference. They think that doing it this way we only make dioreacts angrier, and endangers the rest of hunters. So they give us more work between raids making us get rid of demons the old-fashioned way. They're mad as hell."

"Then who leads you out?"

"Uh, it’s-" mumbled Rachel stuttering. The cloud on the horizon began to thicken with as much force as the air around the girls. "It's Y/N’s doing."

Shoko immediately stopped playing with a strand of hair. "You mean- you're saying that she-" she stammered trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry if I misunderstood you, but what you're saying is that she k-"

Shoko's face turned red. Not from shame, not from embarrassment, not from anger. It was from spilled wine. The bottle slipped out of the drunken Rachel's hands, and the remnants of the alcohol ended up on Ieiri's face. "God, Shoko! I'm sorry!" Rachel frantically tried to wipe Shoko’s face with her sleeve.

"You're not drinking anymore today," Shoko muttered sullenly, rising from her seat and fighting off Rachel's hands.

"Come on, it looks better on ya," Rachel pointed out slyly. "You look really sexy."

"Shut up."

"Speaking of sexy!" exclaimed Rachel, unable to keep her interest in check. "Do ya date a lot?"

Shoko stared at her in amazement as if she were insane wrinkling her nose slightly at her tactlessness. "And when am I supposed to do that? Between patients and filling out paperwork? And anyway, ever since I contacted the doc, I don't even have those five minutes to spare."

"I refuse to live in a house with so many workaholics," Rachel protested. "Come on, not going out at all? And you don't even, well, um... You don't even relax with anyone?" asked Rachel shamelessly scrutinizing Jeri's discouraged face. "Not even with Gojo? Come on, you've known each other for about fifteen years, there's no way there's nothing going on at all!

"Ew!" squeaked Shoko, and Rachel blurted out a smile pleased that she had finally seen a little more than Shoko's usual cold look. "Just shut up. No, nothing happened. And it won't. It's like sleeping with a relative."

"All right, all right, I believe it," a still radiant Rachel softly stretched out. "By the way, where's that troublemaker?"

"No idea," Shoko said resting her head in Rachel's lap again.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm; Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo, Bakery N]

The small bakery decorated in muted yellow colors was filled with the smells of freshly brewed coffee and ruddy crisp dough. On the wall behind the cash register, there were small boards on which the names of confectionery products, it’s prices, and the day's promotions were handwritten in multicolored chalk. A pretty salesgirl in a funny yellow beret was chatting with the customers advising them and helping them to make a choice. Only the sorcerer squatting in front of the glass display case for baked goods and paying no attention to anyone frowned annoyingly.

No matter how rarely you were home, you always made time for Gojo. You made time to send massage to him and ask if he was all right when he was on a mission. Every time you listened to his endless stream of chatter, and if he did something ridiculous or violated your personal boundaries, he never heard a sigh of annoyance from you. Gojo had never heard you hold a conversation in which he was being bad-mouthed, whether it was in jest or in truth.

With you, he felt as if he was understood. Whether it was because you were in similar positions in life's vicissitudes or something else, he did not know. It didn't seem to matter to him.

After all, you found out and memorized some of his features before you even met him, while he didn't bother to find out what kind of sweets you like for six months.

Indignant at his own neglect he squeezed his cheeks with his hands with vigor continuing to stare at the display case under the oblique glances of the visitors, paying them no attention.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, someone’s lonely silhouette sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

The door one of the rooms clicked open. As you left Danielle's room, you glanced at his drooping form barely visible at the other end of the hallway. You quietly closed the distance between you and Gojo and sat down across from him as carefully as you could.

Drawing attention to yourself was not part of the plan, but not leaving a man wallowing in reflection in a strange place was a matter of principle.

He was used to stares, but the way you did it seemed too shameless. Your gaze was straightforward and, if only it were not a play of imagination, surprisingly soft.

"What is it?" he grinned softly. "The first time we met you refused to even look my way, and now you can't take your eyes off me. Am I that handsome?"

"Ya know," you squinted your eyes as if evaluating something. "I think you'd still be handsome even if you had your eyes pulled up on your ass."

Gojo bit his tongue and his chest began to convulse. "What-" barely opening his mouth he hissed with a gasping laugh. "What kind of compliment is that?"

"I'm trying!" you blurted out indignantly, looking at the way he hid his face in his palms trying to calm down.

"Yeah, I really appreciate it," he said on an intermittent exhale wiping the corners of his eyes.

"Uh," you began hesitating. "What ya doing sitting here alone at this hour?"

He stretched his legs out casually, but avoided your gaze carefully. "Your beds are too soft. And pillows are rough," he said with an indifferent shrug. "And I can't open a window to air out the room because of loud sound of the waves."

"Got it," you said stretching the words teasingly. "If it's that bad, you can sleep in my workroom. I've got a firm mattress and air conditioning, too. About pillow...," you paused for a second, thinking. "Guess for a princess like ya, I might as well go to the store and get a proper one."

"Hey," Gojo snorted unhappily, gently nudging your thigh with his foot, to which you chuckled softly. He sat there hesitating, unsure how to take your words, but he wanted to believe it was a sincere suggestion and not a simple sneer. "Did you...," he coughed, hearing the hoarseness in his voice. "Did you really mean it?"

"Would I mock a man who sits in the hallway looking like a stray puppy?" getting another poke in the thigh from him, you gave up. "I really meant it. If ya can't sleep in your room, come and sleep in workroom if ya want."

"What about you?"

"We've got a bunch of unoccupied rooms here," you put up your hand gently, pointing down a long hallway. "Still, sometimes I work nights filling out paperwork and all that other bureaucracy, so if you're in the workroom, you'll have to put up with someone's presence and the clacking of keys paired with the squeak of a pen."

"That's how," he mumbled and felt his fingertips burning hot. "Anyway, I like having something... buzzing under my ear. I'll graciously accept your offer, but only if you promise me you won't stare at me much while I sleep."

"Nope," you shook your head stubbornly. "I'm sorry, I can't promise that."

Gojo sat back and tried to suppress a smile, not even thinking about the fact that he might look like an idiot.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, two someone's non-lonely silhouettes sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

When the salesgirl finished serving another customer, she gave Gojo another confused look. It wasn't often that one met a man so unusual and attractive. "Sir," she addressed him and noticed with fear that her voice had cracked with excitement. She coughed quickly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Huh?" Gojo absentmindedly raised his head. He blinked and stretched out to his full height and walked to the cash register, causing the salesgirl to look embarrassed. "Actually, you can. I'll take the whole thing. Two servings each, please," he said bestowing her with a welcoming smile.

The salesgirl was confused by such an order. "You mean everything at all? Even carrot bread?" she asked in a stammering voice.

"You know, I'll take one carrot bread, though, I guess," he said mentally noting that he definitely wouldn't eat that.

The salesgirl pulled a roll of craft paper from under the counter and placed it on the table, then began wrapping each dessert in it with shaking hands. She thought the man was glaring at her back, but his eyes were actually fixed on his phone. He'd texted you asking if you were home, and waited patiently for a reply.

Gojo was brought out of his detached state of reality by a girl's voice. "Uh, sir. That'll be 39721 yen, sir," the salesgirl mumbled as she placed six stuffed paper bags on the counter in front of him.

"Sure," he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and counted out the bills. Gojo was already grabbing the handles of the bags when the salesgirl, redder than usual, handed him a small piece of paper folded in half. He looked at the girl questioningly. "That's my phone number."

"Oh," he said grinning slightly. "Sorry, but-"

"No, no, it's nothing!" she rambled in a stammering voice, tucking a piece of paper into her pocket. "It would be foolish of me to think you aren't dating someone. Have a good day, sir."

"Till next time," he said over his shoulder already heading for the door.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm Kumagaya, Saitama Prefecture, Bar N]

Each step leading up to the underground bar made a rusty creak in your footsteps, and the room itself was more like a warehouse than a public place. Metal round tables stretched along one wall, and a bar counter stood opposite; behind it, shelves of alcoholic beverages illuminated blue gave the bar a dank atmosphere.

A chubby, rosy-cheeked girl whose hair was tied with a pink bandana was vigorously scrubbing the surface of the bar. She deftly lifted vases of nuts and cutlery stands to clean the dirt beneath them.

"Lu!" you called out to her in greeting. As soon as you took a step toward her, the customers looked up at you. It seemed like it wasn't just the blue lighting that made this place cold.

She tucked a rag somewhere down under the counter and waved at you, beckoning you over to the bar. "Hey! Long time no see," she smiled pulling one of the snack vases toward you.

"I've got my hands full," you said sitting down on a high stool and placing the airtight small container you'd been holding the whole time on the bar. "I see ya business is booming. Lots of visitors," you shook your head lightly over your shoulder looking slyly at Lu.

"I work here day and night! Can you imagine how frustrating it would be if it didn't pay off?" she said pouting her lips.

You pulled the vase of snacks closer to you. "It would pay off. It's not the alcohol that draws everyone here, it's ya charisma."

Lu's already rosy cheeks turned crimson, and she waved you off carelessly. "Flattery gets you nowhere."

"It helps me sneak in anywhere," you chirped popping a peanut into your mouth. "Any news?"

Lu looked at you as if you'd took her at gunpoint. "Y/N, you know... the longer we spend in this state," she wrapped her arms around her shoulders squeezing them slightly. "The less we feel for others. It's like we become separate individuals and... You know. Humanizing."

Her behavior made you frown. "Lu, why ya acting like I'm threatening ya?"

"You are a hunter after all," she mumbled quietly to herself.

"And ya're an insider. We're not touching ya. Even if ya don't have any information," you tried to sound as soft as possible, but it came out like you were telling the girl off. "I just have one question. Ya don't know anything about the creature that calls itself Rei?"

The corners of Lu's lips quivered, and she squeezed herself even tighter in the embrace. The air in the bar had gotten so thick, it felt like you could grab a fork from the bar and stab it. Lu's whole look screamed that she didn't want to enter that state.

"Okay, I'm leaving-,"

"Wait!" squeaked Lu causing you to sit back down. "Uh... What does the body he's wearing look like?"

"Well," you stretched the word out furtively peering into your memories. "A man, somewhere in his late thirties. Face perpetually smug. Moronic grin. Black hair, a couple strands of gray. And a hu-u-uge scar across his face."

Lu squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could. Her fingertips were slowly, as slowly as the sun walks across the sky, crawling in ugly black patterns. Her abruptly opened eyes became blacker than the worst night and began to dart from side to side; Lu herself stood motionless, not even her chest heaved as if someone was forcefully squeezing it.

After a moment, she closed her eyes again and suppressed the demon in her with a sharp intake of breath. She looked up at you and bit her lip in frustration. "I'm sorry, I can't find it. But maybe you can get help from someone else," you threw her a questioning look as she gibbered to herself. "But he's not an insider, so there's a chance he won't want to talk to you.

"Who is he then?"

"Just a dioreact," Lu shrugged. "As far as I know, he's trying to live a normal human life and has nothing directly to do with the kidnappings and murders, but... He's kind of helping demons get in touch with people who, you know... Trade drugs. And people. Maybe that's how he got in touch with Rei."

"Where can I find him?"

"He has his own auto repair shop on the outskirts of Tokyo, in the Edogawa ward," Lu said taking a pen out of her pocket and writing something down on your hand. "He closes at eight at night, so you'd better hurry."

"Thank ya for your cooperation," you chirped covering the written address on your wrist with your sleeve. "And these are for ya," you said sliding the container closer to her.

"You shouldn't have," Lu muttered embarrassedly, hesitating to touch the container.

"Ya don't always have to steal from hospitals," you said looking slyly at Lu. You reached into the container and opened it, pulling out a single bag of blood and stowing it in your backpack. "I hope ya don't mind if I take one with me," the girl nodded silently at your words. Turning around, you were faced with the same cold stares that greeted you here. One of the visitors' eyes were black, and he held a glass to his mouth tapping away nervously at it with his finger. "See ya, guys!" waving goodbye to them, you ran out of the cold bar towards the warm air.

On the outskirts of Tokyo countless tangled wires of transmission lines dangled from poles so low that they gave the impression of an urban spider's web. In one of the narrow streets, dilapidated buildings with unglazed balconies greeted you; on one of these, a man with a cigarette in his teeth was hanging clothes after washing; on another, an elderly woman was shouting to someone at the end of the street that dinner was ready.

The phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from contemplating the everyday life of local people.

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: mochi

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: u home?

[07:23pm] You: nope

[07:24pm] Gojo Satoru: where r u?

[07:27pm] You: I'm busy

[07:27pm] Gojo Satoru: I asked where u r, not whatcha doin dummy

[07:31pm] You: got a couple things to do in Edogawa ward

[07:31pm] Gojo Satoru: there's a metro museum in that ward, u know where it is?

[07:32pm] You: yep

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: I'll meet u there in an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: no, in half an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: don't be late

You stared at the phone screen for a while wondering how a person could contain so much impudence. You came to your senses when you heard the echo of someone's booming laughter from the back alley. A group of guys came around the corner talking loudly and gesticulating vigorously. You glanced at them, and your gaze fell inadvertently on the frail little man the young men had passed. The man was pushing the heavy metal gates; they yielded to him with a heavy, long creak. He finally closed them and wiped something off his forehead with his dirty sleeve; you were already standing near him.

"Closing already?" you asked glancing at his hand, which was desperately trying to find something in his pocket. "It's not eight at night yet."

"I apologize," he smiled nervously, greeting you with a quick bow. "Family emergency."

"I see," you said nodding your head understandingly. "Too bad, my car's been needing an emergency inspection for months now."

The man finally pulled a key out of his pocket and awkwardly tried to get it into the keyhole. "A car? What car?" he hiccupped as if suppressing a hysterical laugh.

You looked around the narrow street and only now realized that there were no cars here, which made you cluck your tongue annoyingly. "Well, that was awkward."

He finally locked the gate and without looking in your direction, he took a quick step away. You followed him. "I just want to ask ya couple questions!"

"Leave me alone!" he shrieked, and despite his feet stumbling over everything he could, he broke into a run. As soon as the man turned into the alley, his eyes widened and he immediately stopped: you were already walking toward him from there. With a desperate shake of his head, he turned around and wanted to run back, but you were in front of him again.

He rushed down the street, and you exhaled tiredly as you watched him.

The man kept running. He ran and looked around frantically. His blurred vision merged the whole landscape: houses, bushes, signs. He wouldn't have stopped if it hadn't been your hand that yanked him sharply by the scruff of his neck into one of the alleys.

Standing behind him, you squeezed his neck with one hand and with the other you pressed the edge of the dagger against his carotid artery. "Just a couple questions," you spoke in a low whisper. "Or I'll send ya to judges," hearing the last word, a ragged sob escaped the man's lips. He nodded, and you immediately let him go.

You waited for him to cough and come to his senses. You pulled a bottle of water out of your backpack and handed it to him, but all you got in return was an incredulous look. "Whatever," you said putting the bottle back away. "Straight to the point. How long has Rei been in contact with you?"

"I didn't- I-" he tried frantically to force the words out. "Last fall."

Was it normal for Rei to stay out of contact with this creature for so long? "Ya sure? Maybe he just changed bodies?"

"I don't know if he changed his body!" the man wailed hysterically. "But I do know he hasn't contacted me all this time!"

"Okay, okay," you said throwing up your hands at the man's sudden outburst. "Ya don't have to yell like that-"

The man slid down the wall holding his head with his hands. "I didn't do anything wrong," his muffled sobs could be heard. "I was just trying to live in this condition."

A skeptical grimace appeared on your face. "Oh, really? Aiding and abetting slave traders and demons out of the goodness of your heart, too?"

The man raised his head and gave you a panicked look. "They threatened me! They threatened to kill my wife and child!" with every word he uttered, your eyebrows crept upward. "Or rather... This body's wife and child. But that doesn't change anything," struggling to utter the last words, he wrapped his arms around his head again.

"What am I hearing? Have human feelings been nurtured?"

The man's shoulders shook. He tried to wrap his arms around himself as if trying to maintain control. He raised his head again. "You don't understand how much we can feel!" he bellowed in your direction. "We didn't choose all this! We're being merged with bodies not of our choosing! But we want to live too. Even if it's just... like this."

"So that's what this is all about," you hissed looking him in the eye. The man sitting on the pavement already looked tiny, but something made him shrink into a lump. "I was wondering, since ya care so much about your wife and child, why ya didn't just surrender to the judges right away," you covered your eyes and tried to regain your breath. When you opened them, you gave the man another dark stare. "Ya know, there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to live. Just don't ya dare cover your selfish ass with good intentions," you reached into your backpack again, and rifling through it for a bag of blood, threw it at the man's feet. "Thank ya for your cooperation," after throwing out the words through your clenched teeth, you disappeared around the corner.

All that was left was to get to the Tokyo Metro Museum.

It was quiet here in the square. The museum staff had long since gone home, having turned out the lights throughout the building. You stood in front of the glass doors trying to see either the dark room or your own reflection.

He was late. You were standing in the square at the main entrance of the building right under the blue sign shuffling from foot to foot with fatigue, and he was late. No call, no message.

The ground heated by the day's sunlight was already starting to cool down, which made you shiver a little and finally pull your phone out of your pocket to dial his number.

"Still looking for me?"

The sound of the voice came from nowhere, but it was everywhere. You pulled your head away from the screen of the phone to look at the reflection of the glass doors. There was no one behind you.

"Don't turn around," you thought to yourself. "Just don't turn around."

"Pet."

If the feeling of rage was something tangible, it would definitely be a liquid. A liquid that you squeezed and put into a steel box, but that voice just drove a thousand sharp nails into that box like a hammer, forcing the liquid out.

You turned around.

You turned around and bumped your forehead against the concrete wall. Your side vision caught the flicker of a dim light bulb, which made a clicking tinkling sound. "I guess I fucked up," you exhaled disappointedly and turned around, thus creating a shuffling sound. The light bulb went out and all that was left in your ears was the ringing from the silence that came. There was an positive side to the darkness: the walls which seemed about to crush you were not so visible.

You stood like that for another minute letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. The long corridor with wall openings at various distances screamed that you were in a maze.

"Relocate."

You remained standing still. "Sure," you thought to yourself rolling your eyes irritably.

[July 3, 2019; 08:06pm; hunter's headquarters]

Music played softly in Megumi's room. The sound of the melody was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the pages of the book Danielle was reading on the bed. Megumi was sitting on the floor beside her looking at something on his phone screen.

Danielle had to reread the paragraphs over and over again because she couldn't concentrate on the text because of her poorly concealed excitement. She threw another fleeting glance at the boy and jerked her foot awkwardly, causing her to stiffen. He hadn't noticed, had he?

Megumi locked the screen of his phone and set it aside. "Dany?"

"What?" she squeaked, her voice hoarse with trepidation. She put her hand to her mouth in horror and pretended to cough.

"You okay?" the boy inquired leaning his head back on the bed and examining her.

"Y-yes," Danielle mumbled awkwardly tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "The air in the room is just dry. I should at least get a humidifier. So what did ya want?"

"How much longer do you think the hunters will let us live here?"

The girl rounded her eyes. "Why on earth would ya even have such thoughts? No one is chasing you out of here."

"Dunno. I wouldn't wanna overstay my welcome."

"I think you're the only one who thinks that," Danielle said with a giggle.

It seemed to Megumi that they had really stayed here for a long time. On the other hand, all he could think about was how much he wanted to stay here at least a little longer. That's how his thoughts darted from one to the other creating confusing coils. "Aren't you, uh, going to get in trouble with the higher-ups for this?" he asked nervously rubbing the edge of his t-shirt.

"They don't seem to have shown up yet. I think even if there is a problem with them, the elders will handle it," the girl assured him.

Megumi nodded briefly, but that wasn't all he was interested in. He nervously held onto his index finger, which had blackened for the tenth time in the last six months. "Dany, listen. What's your technique?"

"Technique?" she asked absentmindedly dimming her gaze. "We honestly don't have such concepts."

"I meant abilities," Megumi explained as carefully as possible, feeling the tension building up in the room.

"Ah!" exclaimed Danielle in relief. "I don't have a pronounced ability yet, Y/N haven't put me through the insolation yet," she eyed Megumi's frowning face with an edge of her eye. "It's to increase the body's conductivity for dark energy. Growing a new sense organ or something like that."

Megumi only squeezed his index finger harder. "What abilities are there anyway?"

"Actually, there are quite a few. Some are mandatory, and others you only learn if ya feel ya can handle it. Well, also each ability can either be specifically targeted or diffuse."

"And then what are the mandatory ones?"

"Relocate and regeneration," Danielle said as if she were reading a textbook. "Relocate not only allows you to teleport from point to point, but also to enter the void."

"And the others?"

"There really are a lot of them, I can't list-"

Megumi couldn't keep himself quiet. "At least tell me about the ones you know about."

"Well... let's say our Doc. Though regeneration is mandatory, he has it at a level that no one else can reach. And that's despite the fact that he's never been through isolation and has been high conductive since birth. Also with his replication ability, he can replicate anything, even configurations of atoms. So with severed limbs we run straight to him," the girl tried to joke, but the awkwardness created in the room seemed like it could be gobbled up with a spoon. "Uh... Well, or Rachel. One of her powers is tranquility. She can stop whatever processes are going on. From photosynthesis to uranium decay. Also, when she makes tranquility diffused around an area, it gives the impression that time has stopped there!"

The girl finally saw a fleeting smirk on his face. "You know, that sounds cool. Is there anything else?"

"It's actually really cool because the use of each ability is limited only by your imagination, so spin it however ya want," Danielle mumbled softly, trying not to hesitating over her words. His fleeting smile stood before her eyes. "Y/N uses shading. You know, she can use dark energy to make photons absorbed and reflected from her body transform into shadow ones. Kinda invisibility."

"We rarely see her anyway," Megumi said exhaling noisily. "And all of you- uh, you can't catch curse energy at all?"

"Nope," Danielle said having long since forgotten about the book lying right in front of her nose. "But honestly, ya could show it to me."

His cheeks turned slightly pink. "How?"

Danielle's second burst of courage ended as soon as she wanted to enact what she'd planned. "Uh, ya know," she said in a stammering voice and slid off the bed trying to hide her trembling knees. She sat down across from him. "Would ya mind folding your palms like this?" she interlocked her palms, leaving a space between them. He obediently closed his hands and didn't dare to raise his gaze to her.

She glanced at his hands, a concerned exhale escaping her chest. "Megumi, what's wrong with your finger-"

"It's fine. Doc said it's just a side effect of the treatment. It'll pass soon," he lied without blinking an eye. A quick change of subject was necessary. "So what did you wanna show me?"

"I-I'm honestly not sure it's going to work out well, I'm still just a student after all," Danielle muttered excitedly. "You can release a steady little stream of cursed energy, right?"

"Sure," he tried to nod his head, but from the side it might have looked like he was having a muscle spasm.

"Okay, then on the count of three do it," she covered his hands with hers. "One," he felt her warm skin. "Two," he closed his eyes because he didn't want to embarrass her by looking at her. Didn't want to embarrass himself even more. "Three," he wished there was a window open in this room because the waves would muffle his hitched breath.

They released energy at the same time.

Whether only a minute had passed, or whether time didn't exist at that moment at all. He wanted to touch her a little longer, but her voice made him open his eyes. "Ready?"

"Ready," he said on a quiet exhale.

She slowly spread their palms apart. There was a butterfly. It was barely visible, one wing slightly larger than the other, but it seemed beautiful to Danielle. "It worked!" she squeaked quietly, pleased with the result. With a flap of its absurd wings, the butterfly rose into the air and flew toward the window.

"Where is it going?" asked Megumi absentmindedly.

Danielle chuckled. "Ya didn't think she'd stay with ya forever, did ya?" She admired the butterfly that perched on the window. He admired her profile. Admired it so long that he surprised himself when the fingers of his hand gently touched her cheek.

Danielle turned toward him. She looked scared and confused, but he couldn't find the strength to took off his hand from her cheek. "Dany," he whispered softly. "Can I ki-"

They were pulled away from each other by the sharp sound of the door swinging open. "Guys!" exclaimed Itadori. "Doesn't anyone wanna go to movies?"

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" shouted Megumi disappointedly. He jumped to his feet and started shoving Yuuji out the door.

"Hey, this is actually my room too!"

Your eyes had finally gotten used to the darkness allowing you to move around without any problems. Pros: there was a light source coming in from somewhere outside and reflecting off the surfaces. Cons: it was not a pleasant environment.

Every time you looked away from the concrete walls, the straight construction joints seemed like curved ugly grins. You were followed by the echo of a shrieking noise that sounded like the singing of cracking ice somewhere in the middle of the Arctic. You kept moving forward not letting the sound catch up with you.

Upon reaching a dead end, you turned right.

The noise kept up. It seemed more and more insistent and faster. You quickened your step, and it began to sound louder, closer. You furtively glanced at the walls making the ugly smiles you'd imagined disappear.

It's a dead end again. You returned to the opening and turned right.

There was the distant sound of the wind rushing in panic in the blizzard. A loud long rumble followed another crackle.

One thing that reassured you was that you didn't hear footsteps in front of you or behind you. Though that couldn't stop you from glancing behind you from time to time.

When you reached the fork, you turned right.

Something warm felt on your earlobes. Warm and viscous. You touched your ear, and when you looked at your fingers, you saw something dark on it.

Your gaze went back to the road.

There was someone coming at you. It was walking slowly, barely moving his feet. You absentmindedly tried to stare, straining and squinting your eyes. A long curly lock of hair fell over the silhouette's face. It came closer and closer, and a blank, open gaze was directed at you (or through you).

It wasn't Rachel.

You backed away, turned and rush away from there. As you glanced behind you, you had the creepy realization that it hadn't made any attempt to catch up with you; it was still following you, slowly but surely.

This behavior is inherent in a creature that already knows where you're going to be wherever you're going.

You found yourself in another corridor. The only thing left to do was not to rack your brains and always turn to the right, trying not to listen to the next crackle of ice.

The surroundings didn't change even after a hundred turns and seven blisters on your feet. Another dead end on the horizon made the growing lump of irritation inside you burst out with a jagged exhalation. You turned around to walk back to the missed opening, but just as you were one step away from your goal, a tall figure stepped out from behind the corner, forcing you to retreat a few steps. White hair was visible in a glow even in the darkness.

You were already walking in the other direction when a voice called your name. The familiar cracking and howling sound stopped, replaced by silence. The abrupt transition from one to the other was as painful as simply having the first. You grabbed your aching ear and clenched your teeth.

Gojo's hand gently touched your shoulder, and you were finally relieved. "Are ya real or what?"

A sly grin appeared on his face. "What is it? You see me so often in your dreams that you can't tell the difference?" he murmured softly, leaning closer to your face.

You paid attention to his provocation. Something else was more important to you right now. "Ya alright?" your concerned voice made him stiffed and leave no shadow of his previous smirk. "No one touched you? You didn't see anyone?"

"Uh... no?" Gojo mumbled incomprehensibly, puzzled by either your questions or your anxiety. "Should I?"

"Look," you nodded pointing somewhere behind his back. Out of the darkness, step by step, came the outline of a man in a familiar black uniform, and dark strands of hair falling over empty open eyes.

He swallowed. "It's not Megumi, is it?"

You shook your head. "Nope," and with that, you took his hand on automatic heading in the other direction away from the creature. "How did ya even get here?" Gojo didn't even hear your question, all but staring at your interlocked hands. "Hey," you snapped your fingers right in front of his face.

He perked up. "What did you say?"

"I asked you how ya got here."

"I was approaching the museum, and then I heard someone's voice. It seemed weird, like it was coming out of my head. I just turned around, and I bumped into a concrete wall...I think?" Gojo rambled on trying to line up the memories in his head in a coherent row.

You continued to wiggle between the openings. "Well, we are two idiots," you chirped summarizing.

"This is not how I wanted to spend this evening," he said with annoyance in his voice pouting his lips.

"Well so did I. When I followed the right hand rule I wanted to find a way out and I found you," you said with a shrug. "Life is full of disappointments. Get used to it."

"Rachel was right, you're just a little bully," his dramatic tone came out overly deliberate again. "And actually, I'm kinda glad we ended up here," Gojo clucked his tongue. You still couldn't get used to his quick change of demeanor. "You finally took my hand. Look," he lifted your clasped hands, and you stared at them in amazement as if you hadn't initiated it. You immediately unclenched your fingers and tried to pull your hand away, but Gojo only gripped your palm tighter with his fingers. "Nope, no way. Get used to it."

"Okay, I give up," you said squeezing his hand again.

Your touch made him forget his teasing remark that you should have done this from day one. There was no way to suppress the excitement. He urgently needed a distraction. "Listen, who are those creatures?" asked Gojo pointing a finger somewhere behind your backs.

"I've never encountered them myself yet, but Frank told me about something similar," you mouthed thoughtfully, looking behind you. "They're kinda like mimics. Just following in your footsteps. I wouldn't really wanna to find out what happens if they get to us."

From the far doorway someone stepped out. A red collar could be seen in the darkness.

"Is there no way to kill them at all?" he asked feeling an unpleasant tingling in the back of his neck.

You threw the dagger that appeared in your hand toward the creature hitting it squarely in the forehead. The mimic vanished in a cloud of smoke. "Does that look like it's fucking dead?" you asked rhetorically, a frown wrinkling the bridge of your nose. "I think it just showed up somewhere and is headed our way again."

"Do we have a tracker hanging on us or something?"

"It's possible. Unlikely ya've ever looked under your skin."

Gojo shuddered. "It won't take long to become paranoid with you."

"Welcome to the club, buddy," you said chuckling merrily. "That's why they're not running after us. There's no point in us hiding anyway, so they're just biding their time until we're exhausted."

"And your sorcery doesn't work here?" Gojo asked taunting you.

"One would think you're still here for some other reason."

He pretended not to hear you as he continued to tease you. "I thought I'd really met someone strong, but sorry. You are weak."

You bit your lip to keep from cracking a smile. "You're right. But take responsibility," your voice softly shifted to a whisper. "I'm weak only for ya."

You were so unfair. So unfair that Gojo swallowed his words and walked beside you silent, occasionally touching his burning cheeks.

For a while, you walked on in hush turning right at dead ends; only your footsteps could be heard. Only yours?

You stopped short a dozen feet before reaching the next turn.

"Something wrong?" he asked worriedly, squeezing your hand lightly.

You drilled your gaze to the right wall. "Do ya hear that too?"

Gojo fell silent. He tried not to breathe. He heard someone's footsteps behind that wall advancing towards the opening. "Mimic?"

"Mimics don't make sounds," you shook your head accompanying the sound of footsteps with your eyes. You perked up and turned around to him peering into his eyes. "Wanna go for a jog?"

***

After a couple of hours, at least some difference was waiting for you around the next corner. Albeit the same concrete and empty, but still spacious room, from which there were only two exits - the one from which you came and on the adjacent wall. Is this what the center looks like in normal mazes?

"You're not even breaking a sweat," came an indignant panting exclamation from behind you. "When you said 'jog', I thought it would be a light jog, not a marathon."

You glanced behind you. Gojo was standing bent over and resting his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "I think we outrun 'em. Let's take a little break," you said heading to the far corner.

You both sat down on the cold dusty floor. You took off your backpack and started to fish out something from the contents. After a while, you handed him a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. It wasn't much, but it was all you had.

Gojo hesitated shifting his gaze from the provisions to you. "What about you?"

"Don't worry," tired of holding your hand with the groceries, you placed them in his lap. "I've got more. I'm not hungry yet anyway."

Frustrated thoughts of six irretrievably lost bags of baked goods popped into his head. Awkwardly twirling the bottle in his hands, Gojo opened it and took a couple sips draining half of it. "Do you have any thoughts?" he asked opening the chocolate wrapper.

"Well," you began trying to pull your thoughts together. "We're kind of still on Earth. Light gets through here, and it's not easy to create an alternate light source, and we were here in literally seconds, so... We haven't turned to bloody dust yet, so the atmospheric pressure is the same, we're breathing normally, we're not off the ground. So whatever this place is made of, it's limited to Earth settings."

"Sounds soothing, but it's no use," Gojo muttered chewing on a piece of chocolate.

"That's actually pretty good," you tried to reassure yourself. "No idea about elsewhere in the universe, but we don't have measurable continuous quantities here in physics. Everything around us that appears to be continuous is not."

Gojo crumpled up the chocolate wrapper and tossed it somewhere in the darkness. "You definitely have a screw loose."

Again there was the familiar notes of delight in your voice. "Well, not me. More like the creator of quantum theory," while you chattered to yourself, Gojo kept staring at your profile. Staring and unable to find the strength to tear his eyes away. "All that remains is to capture the moment itself. I don't know what it will look like, of course. It's hardly a portal or a breach."

"What is it then?" his voice came out softer, more quietly. Against his will.

You shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe it's something that's out of place. Something foreign. But so far all we've encountered are walls, walls, and more walls." You turned to him and he immediately turned his head away. "Ya can rest for now. There's no telling when another opportunity will present itself. I'll keep an eye out," you looked around at the two exits.

Gojo hummed looking at your legs. It would be a crime not to take advantage of the opportunity. Without hesitating, he rested his head on your lap. "You're not going to make me sleep on cold concrete, right?"

"Yeah, right," you grinned and made yourself comfortable leaning against the wall. "Ya know, it's dangerous for you to be with me," Gojo only snuggled harder into your lap. Whether it was true or not didn't bother him at all. "I mean, we got here at the same time, but you said you didn't bump into anyone. So the mimics are here for me."

Oh. So you meant the maze. "Nah, that's okay. You can stroke my hair if you want," Gojo murmured sleepily, not specifying that he wanted it himself.

Your hand was immediately in his hair. You were gently scratching the shaved back of his head with your fingertips, and he was half asleep, unable to resist the goosebumps that spread up his spine. You tried not to lose concentration or look at him too much.

So you stayed there. Gojo peacefully asleep in the godforsaken place on your lap, and you watching the doorways intently; one of your hands running through his hair, the other playing with the dagger, deftly moving it between your fingers

Rachel tried unsuccessfully to make out the caller's name on the phone screen through her blurred vision. Completely desperate, she turned the screen toward Shoko and tapped her finger on the phone.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, but still read the caller's name. "It's Frank."

The spoken name literally made Rachel come to her senses. She answered the phone and straightened her back as if he'd walked into the room. "Hey, dad," she said loudly and distinctly-embroidering each word.

A disgruntled snort was heard on the other end. "Young lady, how much did ya drink?"

Rachel exhaled in astonishment. She wanted to lay her head gently on the table, but she miscalculated her strength, and a dry loud thud rippled through the room. "Just a little bit."

"If this keeps up, I'm going to talk to higher-ups about cutting your funding," the bass in the receiver was so loud Rachel had to tear the phone away from her ear.

"Actually, we're not financially dependent on them anymore," Rachel drunkenly stammered.

"Then I'll talk to Y/N about it," Frank didn't relent.

"Dad-"

Rachel interrupted his angry tone. "Cut it out. I have no desire to watch my daughter drink herself to death. If ya're not thinking of yourself, at least think of your son."

She suppressed the sob climbing to her lips with her hand, pretending to cough it out. "Got it."

"Good girl," Frank's voice became an order of magnitude softer as did his heart. "How are the others doing?"

"Kyle's in raid, Y/N's missing again."

"As soon as they get home, tell them to call me," the man said worriedly and at times like this he sounded especially parental. "By the way, I'll be sending a replenishment to ya soon," he added in between.

"What?" muttered Rachel grudgingly. "More students?"

"No. One of the hunters expressed a desire to join the voidrunners. I fought the higher-ups out of him, they wouldn't let him go," Frank said grinning unkindly. "The only thing is ya'll need to train his stamina and then take him through isolation afterward."

"Ya talk about it like it's a shopping trip. Anyway, one person? Ya serious?"

Frank took a deep breath. "Don't take your frustration out on me. Anything is better than nothing. The kid's twenty years old, name's Issu. Unsociable, but he knows his stuff. Even without isolation he's doing well, so don't get upset early."

Rachel nodded, oblivious to the fact that the person she was talking to was not sitting in front of her. There was a second's silence on the other end of the line.

"One more thing," Frank finally broke the silence. "How are things going with your coworkers?" he sounded casual, but that was what alerted Rachel.

"Well... fine, I guess?" she said as cautiously as possible. "Why?"

"It's just... It's just that some of the higher-ups still aren't thrilled," Frank's casualness was immediately replaced by indignation as soon as he said the phrase aloud. "Quote, 'hunters haven't messed with such the dirt yet'."

"Dad," muttered Rachel wrinkling her nose. "What are they gonna do to us? Let them say what they want as long as they don't crawl out of their holes."

"Fine," Frank said trying to push the feeling of anxiety away. "Make sure you tell those two to give me a call. Love ya."

"And I love ya, too. See ya later," Rachel said and hit the disconnect button.

She looked up from the phone and was surprised to see Shoko staring at the living room. Following the direction of her gaze, Rachel also stared at Mei-Mei, who was seated on the couch watching TV. She was wearing nothing but a oversized light-blue shirt.

"And here I thought people like her could afford at least one set of pajamas," Rachel mumbled disappointedly, getting up from the table. "I'm going to bed," she waved to Shoko and headed for the second floor.

Shoko glanced at her, watching carefully to see if Rachel would trip on the steps. When she heard the door slam, she turned to Mei-Mei. "Is it so hard to follow the rules of this house?"

"Does any of the rules here have any legal force? I don't think so," Mei-Mei said winking slyly at Shoko.

"Change your clothes," the doctor said sharply.

"I won't," Mei-Mei cooed. "This gift means a lot to me."

"I have no idea what you're trying to accomplish," Shoko said getting up from the table. "But I do know that when someone takes someone else's stuff without permission, it can hardly be called a gift."

Mei-Mei chuckled softly. "It's just an unnecessary circumstance for no one."

"Watch out that you don't pave your way to grave with these circumstances," Shoko mumbled indifferently as she walked up to the second floor. Her voice grew quieter with each step she passed. "I wouldn't piss off the locals if I were you."

"How dangerous," Mei-Mei whispered hiding a smile beneath the fingers pressed to her lips.

"..., hey."

Either in a dream or in reality, a hand gently stroked Gojo's cheek. He fidgeted in his half-slumber trying to get comfortable, holding something soft against him. It would have continued like this until someone forcefully flicked him on the forehead. He jerked his eyes open. The sudden realization of where he was made him jump up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you said quietly, holding out a water bottle to him.

He took a couple sips, and then wiped his eyes. "Morning," he muttered in a hoarse voice. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just that we should get going. You've been asleep for three hours, so they're probably getting close to us by now."

In the darkness, you saw the outline of his round eyes. You grinned thinking that Gojo was stunned that he'd slept so peacefully in such a place for so long. He thought about the fact that you had actually been sitting in the same position the whole time so as not to disturb his sleep.

Gojo stood up stretched out to his full height kneading his stiff limbs. "Impressive," you whistled getting up from the ground and looking at his figure.

"Listen," he began in a still sleepy voice. However, sleepy thoughts can often be delusional, full of illogic, but in your situation, every one of them could fit. "Isn't that us?"

"Huh?" you stopped shaking off your feet and raised your head to look at him. "What do ya mean?"

"You said a breach is something that's taken out of the setting. Isn't that us?"

Something cracked. You wished it was an insight, but it was the floor beneath your feet. A few inches away from you, the ceiling collapsed at once raising a cloud of dust and dirt blocking your already meager view. You glanced down; the floor was literally breaking into pieces and falling into the void. Your head snapped up sharply and you darted from side to side, desperately trying to find Gojo amidst the cloud of concrete dust in the chaos of the falling ceiling and breaking floor. Your pounding heart wasn't calmed, but nearly burst as someone's hands clamped you down to chest shielding you from everything.

You opened your tightly squeezed eyes when the noise of destruction finally died down. The summer breeze touched your dusty hair. The smell of burnt wood, peppermint and something sweet hit your nose. Gojo still held you close to him.

You stood in a small square in front of glass doors and a there was a blue sign above you. "Gojo," you called out softly, grabbing his forearm. "We're in the middle of the street."

"No," Gojo mumbled stubbornly into your shoulder, clutching you obstinately in his arms. "We're still in the maze."

You suppressed a chuckle against the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Let's go home already."

***

Already changed into your pajamas, you stood in the bathroom brushing your teeth. You were holding a coaster in your hand, and you looked at it in surprise: there was another toothbrush in it. You hadn't noticed it before. How long has it been here?

"Weirdo," came a voice. Gojo stood leaning against the doorway watching as half the toothbrush evaporated somewhere in your mask. "I still can't figure out if it's the mask, or if it's just that you have a freakishly huge mouth." Gojo walked over to you and took the toothbrush from the coaster, and you set it back down with a clatter.

The only sounds in the bathroom were the water running from the faucet and the rustle of brushes. You weren't used to someone else standing next to you in the bathroom. Gojo was not used to having someone else standing next to him in general.

But you were learning.

"Nice pajamas," he muttered inarticulately from behind a mouthful of toothpaste, peering at you and your pajamas with the funny little avocados through the mirror. "Staying in the workroom tonight?"

You spit the toothpaste into the sink. "Yeah, I need to get some more work done," you said and wiping your face with a towel walked out of the bathroom.

You went to the desk and opened the bottom drawer pulling out a stack of blank sheets. Sitting down in your chair, you tossed it onto the table; your eyes caught the folder where the stack had fallen.

"How much longer you gonna work?" asked Gojo taking a seat next to you.

"Ya wanna sleep here? I'll try to keep it short," you replied picking up the folder with Rachel's recent raid report.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he muttered awkwardly shifting his intertwined.

"Meg, put the kettle on, please," you said running your eyes over the lines.

The voice that answered you was full of indifference. "Put it on yourself."

Muttering sarcastic words of thanks to yourself under your breath, you wanted to get up from your chair, but his hand came down gently on your shoulder stopping you. "I'll get it done," Gojo stood up and headed towards the kettle; once he was at the target, the kettle clicked on and turned green. "What, does everyone in this house have a similar sense of humor?" he exclaimed splashing his hands indignantly. You only shrugged guiltily.

The kettle finally boiled, and he set the mugs on the table. You stared in horror at the sixth sugar cube he was throwing into his mug.

Gojo handed you a cup of hot fragrant tea. "So kind of ya," you said leaning back in your chair and putting your feet up on the table. Your gaze drifted back to the report.

There were warm and insanely soft red socks on your feet. Gojo stared at them watching you clench and unclench your toes. Cute. "Your socks are nice too," he commented taking a sip from his mug.

You tore yourself away from the papers throwing a glance at your feet. "Thank ya," you chirped. "I always match my socks to the color of my underwear."

A mechanical voice cut into your conversation. "You're not wearing any underwear right now."

In the silence that hung, you phlegmatically wiped the tea off your face, which Gojo choked on. "Thanks for input," you muttered and turned to him. His face was red from intense coughing. Or so you thought. "Need help?"

"N-no!" exclaimed Gojo in a hoarse voice moving farther away from you.

"Okay," you said with a shrug.

You put the report aside and started filling out blank papers. Finally coming to his senses, he caught a glimpse of you writing about today's incident. "Y/N," you responded with a nod of your head. "Do you know the person who led us there?"

"Yeah," you replied dryly, continuing to trace out the letters on the paper.

Gojo bit his lip nervously, not knowing if he could go a little further. But testing the waters is not criminalized, is it? "Who is he?"

"My teacher, if you can call it that," you said crossing out some word and crumpling the piece of paper.

Gojo looked at you spitefully. "What? You were trained by a demon?"

"Can you imagine?" you exclaimed softly under your breath. "Life in general is an amazing thing."

Your behavior only misled him more. He gripped the cup tighter in his hands. Gojo wish he could keep his temper in check, but he didn't even know what pissed him off more: the information he'd gotten or your indifference. "He called you a pet," behind the pile of papers, you didn't notice the pouring disgust in his voice.

"He had a lot of strange habits. Never mind," he saw you rub your collar as you said it. It was high even on your pajamas.

The cup he was clutching in his hands cracked.

You turned at the sound. Gojo was holding a mug covered in tiny cracks; it looked like it was about to fall apart. "Put it neatly on the table. I'll clean it up later."

"You really wanna talk about fucking mug-"

"Look," you cut Gojo off halfway through tossing your pen wearily on the desk. "I need to write it all down," you tapped your fingers on the stack of paper. "And at least half of it will be scribbled about how sweet you sleep and how loudly you snore. So whatever it is, let's have a chat about it later," your voice sounded lower due to exhaustion. "Go to bed, 'kay?" you added more softly.

"Whatever you say," despite the anger in his chest that you hadn't noticed, he wasn't about to leave the workroom. On the contrary, he walked over to your bed and leaned on it tiredly, holding one of the pillows to his chest. Gojo had never seen you sleep here, and yet the pillow smelled like you. He burrowed his face deeper into it, leaving only his eyes to steal glimpses of your image. With each deep exhale, he calmed down little by little. You were here, with him, in the same room.

"Good night, boxy."

"Good night, mochi."

His eyes closed involuntarily. Falling into sleep, Gojo left behind those days in which the forecast had promised him endless rain and an eternally lonely room.

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