#perched and perhaps pondering even
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woh!!! ein wuffwuff
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<the butterfly perched upon you>
slice of lifey vibes with trueform sukuna! youre like a servant-turned-girlfriend to him and dont mind me making it the clumsy girl trope sorry... lots of falling over and making a fool of yourself oops- mostly lighthearted, eventual romance, fluffy, very minor/implied smut. mentions of cannibalism, murder.
the warning of ooc sukuna goes without saying <3 hope u enjoy nonetheless <3
dividers by @/saradika, @/firefly-graphics and @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more
word count; 8.1k
how can someone be this useless?
its not uncommon that you trip over your own feet. the food you try to make always ends up charred and inedible. and anything that wounds up in your hands seem to either break or get misshapen. seriously, uraume considers you an eyesore.
very much like a stressed mother in law, they try to whip you up into shape to best please lord sukuna, but you can't do a thing right. goodness gracious.
there are only a handful of servants here at the lord's estate, mainly due to how he dislikes crowds and has a low tolerance for people in general, and will only accept a few for maintenance of his abode only. and yet, an awfully incapable and bumbling girl like you finds yourself at such a place. uraume wouldn't be surprised if lord sukuna lopped your head off one day, if he managed to catch sight of your silly mistakes.
the servants have very minimal contact with the lord. he's often out tormenting whomever challenges him on the battlefield, and even when he's home, none of you are brave enough to be loitering about in areas where he's currently present. uraume is the only one who usually speaks with him directly.
today, you've been reluctantly given the job of wiping down the floorboards of the engawa before the courtyard. you quite like this, because it's nice and sunny outside, and so you'll get to admire the butterflies while you work.
theres a pretty little pond with koi fish here as well, and you've been permitted to feed them some vegetable and seafood scraps, so you'll be doing that afterwards.
you've run up and down against the wooden flooring a couple of times with a rag, and soon enough, you get catch eye of a bright blue butterfly that flutters around the garden. you stand on the edge of the engawa, absorbed with the view. it's not everyday that you get to be here, after all. allegedly, this is lord sukuna's favourite spot to lounge about when he's home.
you get so distracted that you don't notice the intimidating presence behind you, even though he's a man whose aura bleeds all over the place, wherever he may be. sukuna looms over you and is silent as he ponders taking your head for annoying him by standing about in front of him like an airhead with an incredibly lacking sense of survival.
no, he shouldn't. he'd get more annoyed if your blood spilled over the floorboards, and he'd have to wait until the stench of your blood flees the area. however, before he can say a word of 'get lost', you manage to notice the shadow of the figure behind you.
you turn around and see him close up for the first time. a strange noise escapes your throat. you get so startled, your feet loses its balance, and you go backwards off the edge of the engawa. the dirty rag is thrown up in the air in a frenzy by accident as you try not to fall over.
thud! you're on your back on the garden floor. making haste, you frantically get into the position you were taught to get into by uraume, if you ever happened to come across lord sukuna by any chance. you kneel and lower your head until your forehead hits the ground.
and with such nice comedic timing, the dirty rag you'd thrown into the air falls directly onto the back of your head. you shut your eyes tightly and bite your lip in sheer embarrassment. you then realise that your humiliation is not what's really important right now. you might lose your life here.
perhaps you should apologise? are you even allowed to speak to him? what would you be apologising for, anyway? for breathing in the same direction as him? for not noticing him right away?
when uraume runs into the scene, what they witness is rather... unique. the useless servant girl on her knees and with a dirty rag on her head, trembling frantically. and lord sukuna, who seems to be viewing her with what seems to be mild amusement, and not annoyance.
"sukuna-sama... i apologise for any tardiness displayed by the servant. i didn't realise you would be coming here as soon as you came back."
usually, he enjoys a full meal before going out to the courtyard.
amongst your frantic thoughts, you almost tear up at the sound of that familiar voice. uraume-san! can they save you? i mean, sure, they only care about lord sukuna and him only, but surely they wouldn't want your blood to taint this perfect courtyard, right? especially when it's his favourite view!
"we shall accept any form of punishment you see fit for us."
we!? who's we?! you internally sob.
"it's fine."
a deeper voice responds. it's the first thing he's said since you noticed him.
"you can take her away. i'm going to stay here a while."
you hear the large man sit himself down.
"you. stand up and head back to your quarters."
you get up as quickly as you went down. the rag drops to the floor and you have to bend down to pick it up again with speed. you bow deeply again before following uraume out of the area. you can finally breathe again.
"consider yourself lucky. it seems sukuna-sama is in a pleasant mood today."
you later get scolded by uraume after you tearfully explained how you managed to get dirt all over your back and ended up with rag over your head.
meanwhile back in the courtyard, sukuna replays that scene of you in his head--of you turning around with eyes as wide as saucepans, something about you left an impression on him, and its not just because of way you made an absolute fool of yourself.
later, he comments to uraume about how you seemed a little different than the usual ones they pick to have as servants.
"shall i get rid of her? servants can always be replaced if you desire it, sukuna-sama."
"no, leave her. i was only curious."
uraume is left a little stunned. curious? over a mere servant girl? they are in no place to judge, but goodness, it's a rare thing for lord sukuna to be curious about somebody.
uraume has absolutely no qualms of disposing a person if they end up being no use to the lord. however, they never step out of line and act upon their own judgements alone. if there is someone who has piqued his interest, then uraume shall make sure that nothing interferes with their master's source of entertainment.
it's been a while again since you last saw lord sukuna. and you're quite thankful for it, after that humiliating first impression you gave him.
the days have been somewhat peaceful, with only the occasional grumbling from uraume, upset by your helplessness in preparing and cooking food, as usual. after multiple cuts and burns, they decided that you were not to come even a metre into the kitchen area.
that's fine by you, anyway. cleaning and sweeping while you hum your silly tunes is what you prefer.
night arrives with the moon hanging up brightly, like it always does. you think it's going to be another uneventful closure to the evening, but uraume soon appears at the servant's quarters, looking for you. they look a little uneasy. the very few other female servants whisper amongst themselves.
"sukuna-sama has requested for you. come with me."
oh...
you feeling like crying.
there is nothing that you can do. 'requested' so they may say, but everyone knows rejection means possible death. so you follow uraume outside.
walking with them in the corridor, every step feels like it's bringing you closer to disaster.
"uraume-san... what exactly is sukuna-sama requesting me for...?" you ask cautiously.
"i'm unaware know the details myself. but he's in the middle of a bath. perhaps there's a splatter of blood he can't reach on his back."
yes, but why has he chosen me out of all people?!
but you know better than to question such orders. your hands become clammy with sweat.
you reach the bath area too quickly for your liking, and uraume ushers you inside without further concern for your wellbeing. their only concern is hoping that you don't do anything to displease the lord.
lord sukuna sometimes has a tendency to act upon his own whims, but even uraume was surprised when he suddenly asked for the servant girl he met in the courtyard...
the warmth of the misty steam inside caresses your face gently and also makes your kimono stick to you uncomfortably... making you sweat even more.
lord sukuna is sitting in his oversized, wooden bathtub wordlessly, his back turned to you. splashes of crimson against his skin, just as uraume had said. you take a quiet, deep breath.
kneeling before him as per protocol, you bow your head, despite the floors being soggy with water.
"sukuna-sama. how may i assist you this evening?"
the eyes on the side of his distorted face dart down to look at you.
"it's fairly obvious, isn't it? wash the blood away."
"right away."
you stand up straight, and it was apparently too fast for your poor blood pressure, getting you dizzy momentarily. foolishly so, you still decide to take a few steps with haste on the wet, slippery floor. with a loud yelp, you slip and land on your bottom. you want to scream.
"i-i apologise..." you say tearfully, getting back up.
"...not a dull moment with you, as i figured." he uses a tone of mockery.
there's a hint of a chuckle in his voice, and you're only glad he's amused rather than annoyed at your stupidity. your backside hurts again. it hasn't even been that long since the bruises stopped hurting from the last time you fell over!
you grab a cloth to start scrubbing the man down, holding back your tears. the metallic scent is prominent, and your mind begins to wander about exactly whose blood you were currently wiping away into the bathwater. you try not to think about it too much.
it's not new information that lord sukuna kills mercilessly, and even feasts on humans should he feel like it. you've seen the types of "ingredients" uraume has used in the kitchen at times, and the blood that paints the bottom of the sink. these were all things you needed to get used to seeing and knowing as a servant at this estate.
you keep your face stern as you clean him down delicately, thoroughly. the damp, warm cloth runs along the muscles on his back, neck and shoulders. you squeeze out the blood and dip it back in clean water, before wiping again. he has a delightfully toned body, with many tattoos. and more muscles than you could ever count. you take note of the neck tattoos that resemble the lines on a butterfly's wings. it draws you in, but you have to make sure you don't get too distracted.
you notice there's some blood on his hand as well. you move towards it and clean it down, gentle in the way you go over each finger. you're holding hands with him inevitably as you have to lift it up, and this makes you realise how large this man is. your hand seems almost like a child's in comparison to his. there's something rather exhilarating, yet also terrifying about this size difference.
the hairs on the back of your head rise, for some reason. you notice how his big red eyes are boring into you from the edge of your vision. you feign ignorance and focus on cleaning.
time passes in haste as you finish wiping down the last spot of visible blood from the lord's body.
"all the blood has been cleaned away, sukuna-sama," you tell him.
"is that so?" he asks, looking down at his own body. "but there's a spot left over here," he objects, pointing to the side of his neck, vaguely.
"i- i'm sorry, i must have missed that area. i shall clean it immediately-"
you crane your neck to look towards where he was pointing, your face getting closer to his. the place he mentioned is clean. no blood in sight. you meet his eyes. his lips curl upwards, seemingly pleased.
"finally, you look this way," he says, capturing your gaze.
you freeze on the spot, face heating up.
"your... your neck seems clean... sukuna-sama," you respond quietly, unable to think of anything else to say.
"i was only teasing. was it not apparent?" he smirks at you, and you feel that your heart may burst any second now. from either fear or excitement. or both.
"pardon me. i should have noticed sooner," you say, moving your face away from his.
"...i digress. where's the fun in that? just remain gullible for me."
he flicks your forehead, making you whisper 'ouch!' under your breath.
"understood?"
"yes, my lord."
without further conversation, he stands up to his full height, the water droplets racing down against his skin. you hurriedly grab some towels for him... doing your best to avoid looking at his... ahem. when you hand over the towels, your eyes are shut tight. sukuna gives a deep chuckle.
"silly girl."
since the bath, lord sukuna has developed a tendency to call you over during unpredictable moments, and for unpredictable errands. then, he disappears again for a while. and merely moments before you get too comfortable without his presence around you, he returns to repeat it all over again.
recently, he's taken towards looking for you himself, rather than asking uraume about your whereabouts. it scares the other servants when he barges into their spaces, but he pays them little mind.
this afternoon, he finds you sweeping down the leaves away at the front of the estate, humming to your heart's content.
"i come to check what's making all that noisy ruckus... only to find out that it's you."
your whole body goes stiff at the voice, and you reflexively try to get on your knees, but he stops you.
"keep your head up," he commands you.
"your face is worth gazing at, after all," he adds, albeit under his breath.
the compliment doesn't even register into your head as you immediately stand back up, broom in hand. you thank him for the pardon.
"are you done with the sweeping, yet?" sukuna suddenly asks, looking around with his arms crossed. well-- one pair of them, at least.
"not yet, sukuna-sama. but only a little bit to go," you respond with honesty.
"come to my chambers with a plate of fruits and a knife with you, once you're done. don't take too long."
after that, he promptly takes his leave without further explanation. you stand still for a moment, as you always do. every interaction you have with him leaves you in a bit of a daze. often, you wonder if he's a part of your daydreams.
you shake your head and continue to sweep, silently, this time around. don't take too long, he had ordered.
after you're done with that, you make your way into the kitchen on your tiptoes. you wonder if uraume would believe you, if you were to tell them that you're entering upon sukuna's own request.
but once you make your appearance to the entrance of the kitchen, uraume is already there, ready with a tray with a plate of assorted fruits on it. and a knife sitting next to the plate. the sight of the sharp utensil makes you feel nervous, somewhat.
you take the tray without a word, and head towards the lord's chambers.
three sharp knocks.
"sukuna-sama. i've come with the items you sought for. may i come in?"
"you may."
you slide the door open, and sukuna is there, waiting on the tatami mat while holding a kiseru in his hand. once you enter, he sets it aside after one more puff.
"put it here," he points towards the empty space in front of him.
you place the tray down where he gestured towards, and then sit yourself in front of him. there's a moment of silence as you flicker your gaze from looking at him, to the fruit before you.
"well? what are you waiting for? prepare it for me."
oh, no. you had prayed with every ounce in your body, that he wouldn't request for such a thing, but of course it didn't work. now, you have to display your terrible cutting skills to the very head of this estate.
hands trembling, you reach out for the knife and pick up a peach from the plate. you make a cut towards the seed in the middle. then, you cut diagonally to get one slice out. sukuna opens up his hand, waiting for you to place it in the middle of his palm. you do so, and the piece looks so pathetically tiny that you almost feel ashamed.
"faster," he demands, with a small smile on his face.
you swallow thickly, and try to speed up your cutting. the pieces get more and more jagged and unsightly. but sukuna doesn't display any signs of anger or annoyance.
"such poor knife skills. no wonder uraume left you to do the cleaning only. is that really the best you can do?" he taunts you, laughing through his nose.
"i'm afraid so... i apologise for my lack of skills, sukuna-sama," you confess, trying not to make your lower lip wobble from the anxiety and dejection. did he bring you here just to mock the way you cut fruits?! your brows furrow in determination and you try harder.
after the peaches, you grab a persimmon. they're trickier to prepare, since you have to carefully peel the skin off them as well. you purse your lips.
things go somewhat smoothly at first, but then you start to slip up again. it's slippery, and the blade of the knife slices through your thumb.
"ah-" a small noise leaves your lips and you watch as a drop of your blood runs down your palm. sukuna matches your gaze and narrows his eyes at the same scene.
"such a helpless, troublesome woman."
he grabs your wrist and slowly brings your thumb to his mouth. your eyes widen, and you're speechless as you watch him run his tongue up the trail of your blood and then suck on the small incision on your thumb.
you're like a steaming kettle, with the way your blood rushes through your veins, temperature rising with how flustered you are. sukuna looks at you with your finger still in his mouth.
"su-sukuna-sama... you needn't do such a thing-"
a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his tongue swirl around your wound. he then releases it from his mouth, with a smirk, still holding onto your wrist.
you retract your hand suddenly, due to an indescribable feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. you then begin to fear that snatching your hand away like that might've offended him.
"my apologies, sukuna-sama! if you will excuse me-!"
you stand up and run, and he lets you scurry away, with the same sweet, arrogant grin on his face. down the hallway, he hears you trip over yourself before exiting. it makes him chuckle.
you're a fun way to pass time, when he's not slaughtering millions on the battlefield.
back in your own quarters, you lean yourself against a wall and pant, being out of breath. what had just happened? he... he licked the wound on your finger. and that did something to you. your insides feel all squirmy.
you look down at your thumb, only to realise that the cut has mysteriously disappeared.
after running away from sukuna abruptly like that, you had expected to uraume to chase you up and drag you to him, where you'd be executed for fleeing. but it never happens.
in fact, you haven't seen him again for a while. however this time around, his absence does nothing to keep you relaxed, as you're always on your toes, not knowing when he'd next make an appearance before you. you wonder what he will do to you next, when he does come back sooner or later.
before you can drown in those concerns of yours, uraume sends you outside to hang some laundry out in the sun. some white sheets, freshly washed. you struggle a bit, to carry the large bucket of sheets out to the yard.
the laundry line is a bit high, so you need to grab a small stool as well to successfully get the sheets over it. the wind is gentle, and the sunlight pours endlessly from the skies. truly a perfect day to dry the laundry outside.
the sheets are large, so you find it difficult to squeeze the moisture out by yourself, but you suppose they will eventually dry anyway, thanks to the nice weather. you smile as the cool breeze runs through you, making you feel pleasant.
from afar, sukuna observes this scenic view of you, surrounded by the pure white of the swaying sheets around you, smiling as the wind jostles your hair slightly and the sun accentuates your features rather beautifully.
he walks towards your light.
you're busy trying to hang another sheet on the second line this time. you wish the stool was a tad bit taller. this is rather challenging. even standing on top of it, you need to get on your tippy toes to reach properly. and it doesn't help that the water-weight makes the cloth heavier...
a large hand brushes aside the sheet that covers you from view, startling you. you nearly topple over, but a pair of strong arms catch you, keeping you standing upright.
"how ridiculous. don't you get tired of doing that every time?" he sighs. his second pair of arms are crossed, while the first pair hold you so warmly.
"i'm sorry..." you mumble, staring at him with wide eyes. it's like he appeared out of your thoughts. could this perhaps be a daydream of yours? he fixes your stance so that you can stand on the stool properly again. despite your height boost from this stool, sukuna is still a bit taller than you.
"it feels strange, having you meet me eye-to-eye like this..." sukuna comments, while staring down at you curiously.
and it does feel strange, being almost at his height. how close you feel to him now. maybe this offends him.
"i shall get down immediately," you tell him respectfully, trying to get off the stool. his arms come around again to keep you still.
"ack-!"
"tch. don't overreact. i didn't mean it that way," sukuna mutters, tutting at you.
you stand stiffly with your hands by your sides as he inspects you, anxious yet also excited to find out what his intentions are this time around. every touch he lands on you makes you skin jump, in an intoxicating way.
you focus your vision particularly on the odd looking side of his face. it looks like it has a strange texture. would it still be skin? you want to try and touch it. and... his extra eyes look cute. you gasp at yourself for having such disrespectful thoughts about him. all four of his eyes then focus on your face, as if to notice your gaze, and you feel as though your heart may leap out of your throat. there's a part of sukuna that makes you question whether he can read your mind or not.
"you're curious about this face of mine, are you?" he asks, while smiling.
your jaw hangs open in shock, and you don't know whether to tell him that he's correct or to apologise for your insolence.
"what a strange expression you're making," he chuckles, "so easy to read."
it's not that he can read minds, it's only because you're openly letting yourself known to him, whether you're aware of it or not. transparent, like a perfectly pristine and delicate glass cup. shall he leave his fingerprints on you? shall he leave some cracks in that fragile vessel of yours?
his hands come off your body, and you have to concentrate to keep your balance on the stool, no longer being able to rely on his hold to stand still.
"continue with your duties. i shall call for you later," sukuna states sternly, looking off at the sheets that still wave gently in the wind.
"you didn't squeeze out enough water. it's dripping," he points out the soaking wet ends of the sheets.
you practically jump off of the stool and get to work. in the meantime, the lord has disappeared again. you look into the distance to catch a glimpse of him if you can, but he's nowhere to be seen.
and he never got around to clarifying about what happened to his face. perhaps that's a clear sign to mean that he's not interested in talking about his past.
upon finishing the laundry in completion, you make your way to the kitchen, due to the time being close to serving the lord's evening meal.
the other servants and uraume included, are running around to prepare his dinner to perfection, as usual. for the most part, you're left with nothing to do at these times since none of them trust you with handling the food.
lord sukuna did say he was going to call for you later. you wonder if you'll be able to help bathe him again. or if this time, he'll make you do something different. you're plagued with such daydreams as the servants bustle about behind you.
by the time the busy period finalises, the moon hangs high up amongst the stars, and the darkness of night consumes all. and yet, he still hasn't requested for you at all. you suppose when he said he'd call for you later, he perhaps meant tomorrow or the day after. you never know with the lord. trying to navigate him is like trying to look through the murky depths of the ocean at night.
right when you were about to return to your quarters with everyone else, uraume suddenly approaches you.
"sukuna-sama wishes to see you. make your way to the courtyard now."
your stomach starts stirring once again.
the courtyard is beautiful, even at night. sukuna sits in the now moonlit area, drinking from a sake cup in a languid manner.
it takes courage to speak up behind him.
"did you wish to see me, my lord?"
sukuna turns slightly to the side to look at you, before facing the front again.
"...come. pour me another glass, will you?"
"certainly."
as you pour him more of the crystal clear wine, you have to stay vigilant in order to not accidentally splash any of the expensive liquid outside of the cup from your shaky hands.
tonight, the lord's gaze rests not on you, but on the moon above. you watch along with him. there is nothing but silence in the first few moments you have with him together.
"the moon is beautiful tonight," he finally says, while taking another sip of his sake.
is it normal for one to be envious of the moon? even so, thanks to the moon, you are able to see him bathed in its light, making him look almost ethereal.
"yes it is, sukuna-sama," you agree with him.
there's another momentary silence between the two of you, before you bring up a sudden question.
"...do you enjoy watching the moon often?"
"not often, but at times. it would get boring if i did it everyday."
like almost everything else in life.
"i see. that is most understandable."
the chirping of crickets is audible within the garden, and you pour him another glass of his sake after he finishes his previous cup.
you look up at the black canvas of a sky, littered with specks of white all across it. it's easy to get lost in the sight. and much more comfortable than looking at something like the sun, which could burn the delicate areas of your eyes. you begin to get immersed in the view, and your previous train of thoughts ebb away.
you don't notice the way sukuna has stopped gazing at the sky. he's watching you, instead.
"you must know by now... that i favour you more than the other servants," sukuna brings up carefully.
you stop staring up, and turn around slowly to blink at the man.
"...is- is that true, my lord?" you ask, wondering if he really means that. you don't want to get ahead of yourself.
his brows furrow. how dim-witted can you be?
"perhaps actions will speak better than words."
that phrase alone makes your heart feel like it could leap out of your throat.
"sit closer to me."
you swallow dryly, and shuffle closer to the larger man. he sets his cup down beside him, and brings you even closer to him. his hand holding your waist. sitting with him, hip to hip.
sukuna begins to lean his face down closer to yours. your hands grab your own kimono in tight fists, questioning the reality of this scene, feeling skittish yet also giddy, all at the same time.
"don't run away, this time. i won't allow it."
the way his breath ghosts over the skin of your face, how close his voice is to your ears, sends goosebumps all the way down to your legs. is he going to kiss you? can you handle that?
his lips reach yours, and the softness of them is unreal. this must be a dream. he tastes of the rice wine was sipping on before, and he's doused in the same moonlight as you are, and he's now kissing you. a mere servant.
your ears pound with your own heartbeat, and your hands grip onto your kimono so tightly that it's bound to leave wrinkles behind. they shake slightly. sukuna's large hand comes over one of them, and grabs your wrist delicately.
"relax", he's telling you.
and so, you share your first kiss with him, under the moonlight.
quite a bit of time has passed since that day.
you could say that nothing much has changed - you still have your duties as a servant, and the lord still leaves his home vacant for periods of time.
however, on days when he has returned...
you gently sway your legs that hang off the edge of the engawa, on the very same courtyard as that fateful night. sukuna lays his head on your lap, eyes closed and completely at rest, both sets of his arms relaxed as the breaths he takes are slow.
your hand is unable to stray far from the soft bed of his hair, fingers combing through the peach-coloured strands, nails raking against his scalp with the right amount of strength, the way he loves. he gives the occasional purr when you go over his favourite spots.
it's odd, when merely a few weeks ago, you had trouble initiating these harmless touches without explicitly asking for permission beforehand.
"sukuna-sama, may i touch your hair?"
"would it be alright if i could hold your hand, sukuna-sama?"
"may i press a kiss against your cheek, my lord?"
you giggle to yourself as you remember his response to your endless series of questions and requests.
"tch... quit asking me about every little thing. just do it. i'll let you know if i don't like it."
and from then on, you've been bravely placing your hands on him whenever you wanted. and he hasn't been displeased by you, as of yet.
you freely caress the side of his face that you would describe as... unique. you're always curious about the nature of it, even now. but you don't invasively ask questions. you wonder if you'll ever feel brave enough to, one day.
his larger eyes open up narrowly in an abrupt manner, and they squint at you. it makes you nervous, in the way that heart fluttering way. you never get used to the feeling of being under his intense gaze.
red, with ringed irises. you've started to enjoy this colour more ever since you started to meet his eyes more often. you stare back at him but, oh- he's closed them up again.
your hand continues to softly caress him.
sukuna remains mellow, not really falling asleep, but also not in a state of full alertness. your lap serves as a great pillow.
this continues, until suddenly your touches become slower and more distracted. and he can tell your attention has been divided to something else.
the dismayed lord cracks open one eye to check what might have served as a distraction to you.
a butterfly...?
your eyes follow the pretty blue creature, landing on the flora of the garden, in it's carefree nature. a small smile blooms on your face and your hand's movements dwindle, which should displease him. he could cleave the thing into little bits, and let its remains scatter the lush garden.
but, he doesn't. sukuna lets you indulge in these small moments of joy, simply because he's gotten rather softhearted. he doesn't enjoy seeing you get upset at him. though he has control over you as your lord, his hand can't extend all the way to your heart and mind.
(and may the world burst into flames if you ever end up disliking him.)
he recalls... you were also staring at a butterfly the day he first met you, weren't you? so distracted that you didn't notice his presence. he doesn't understand your affection for such a fragile creature.
but...he supposes that he's the same.
what came over him, that he wound up caring for a silly woman like you?
as if to reaffirm your concept of being 'silly', you suddenly give a small sneeze, facing away from the front. his head gets jostled in your lap, which makes him frown and sigh.
"my apologies, sukuna-sama... perhaps it was due to the pollen from the garden..." you give your excuse sheepishly.
well, no matter. he'll keep you with him for as long as he desires. perhaps he can use your butterfly-infatuation to his advantage.
not long after, once the sun dips over the horizon and the area becomes a little chilly, sukuna decides he wants to take a bath before the day comes to an end. and you'll be coming along, of course.
...by now, you've been with him in the bath area at least a dozen times before.
nevertheless, you never seem to get used to seeing him in his naked glory.
sukuna is sitting in his tub, and you're running a warm, wet cloth over his shoulders, scrubbing lazily. he was already quite clean enough today, in your opinion.
a feeling of deja vu hits when your gaze falls onto the tattoo on the back of his neck. you remember having such a thought before. though it's not the strongest resemblance, you see it regardless.
without much resistance, you give in to the desire, and bring your lips to the area to give him a small kiss. it takes him by slight surprise.
"the tattoo on your neck resembles the lines on a butterfly's wings, sukuna-sama. it looks elegant, and wonderful," you tell him.
...he is not displeased with that comparison, strangely enough.
"is that so? no wonder i've felt your stare on it multiple times before," sukuna responds.
you never realised that he'd caught onto that. were you always staring that prominently? you continue wiping him down with the warm cloth, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.
sukuna thinks for a moment.
"how about you join me in here, tonight?" he asks, out of the blue.
"p-pardon?!"
"quit acting so timid. go on, get yourself cleaned. i'm waiting."
you feel your face heat up at the thought of being... naked with him. anxiousness starts running through your body. you wonder if he really means it, or if he's trying to fluster you again. your lack of action causes him to raise an eyebrow.
"what, you don't want to?"
"no, no! i do, my lord! i'm just... a bit taken aback."
you spring into action. heart pounding as you shed your clothes. he doesn't turn his head or peek at you from where he sits, but your eyes dart to him to check anyways. you clean and rinse yourself adequately, with shaky hands.
"shall i lend a hand in scrubbing your back?" sukuna suddenly calls out. there is sarcasm in his tone.
"that wouldn't be necessary, my lord... i can do it myself..." you respond bashfully.
you only pray that you don't slip over on the way to the tub.
when you do eventually finish up, you walk carefully towards him. walking past where he sits, you reach the other side of the tub. you avoid his eyes as you enter at a slow pace, arms making an effort to cover your breasts. you're finally seated in the same tub as him. the water is steaming, and it's quite deep. still, you hang on to the edge and keep yourself a little distanced from sukuna.
"aw come on. it was mere moments ago that you kissed the back of my neck. so shy all of a sudden?"
"that- that was a different situation, sukuna-sama..."
"the only difference now is that we're both nude," he shrugs.
"nevermind that...the water looks a little deep for you," he says, almost mockingly so- "come. i'll let you on my lap."
you cannot tell whether he is only teasing, or if he actually wants you on his lap.
"quickly- don't run my patience thin."
you make your way towards him without further hesitation.
sitting on his lap, you find that he's oddly comfortable. an arm of his loops around your waist, holding you tight against him, as if to prevent you from running away.
the lord takes your hand and caresses it between his thick fingers. your back leans against his bare chest and abs as you relax yourself more. you wonder if the mouth on his stomach doesn't feel uncomfortable when you sit against it like this.
sukuna's extra arms begin to get more and more handsy with you. you feel his large palms on your breasts, squeezing the flesh gently. not that you find it unpleasant, but it makes you feel all squirmy and restless and hot. when he touches your chest like that, you can't help but turn your head slightly to give him a needy look. it makes him lean down and kiss you warmly.
his tongue explores your mouth in a thorough manner, encouraging a growing heat inside of you. you start gripping his hand harder, though you doubt he feels a thing from it.
when lord sukuna kisses you, you can't tell whether time is passing too quickly, or too slowly. you lose the ability to think of anything else, other than his soft lips and his rough tongue. and you believe that he's aware of this fact himself. why else could he be smiling against your lips like he is right now?
you don't know how long you'd kissed him for in that bathtub. but by the time you stepped out of it, your hands were wrinkly from the prolonged moisture.
and you came out with... feelings of unsatisfaction. rather than getting a little further than kissing, sukuna had stopped abruptly and told you with a smirk that he was ready to get back to his chambers now.
upon getting dressed again, you linger awkwardly around the man, wanting more but not knowing how to inform him of it. the lord looks at you keenly.
"well? aren't you going back to your chambers?" he asks with a sly undertone.
"...i would like to escort you to your room... my lord," you tell him, averting his gaze.
"oh? i don't recall needing an escort, when my room's right around the corner. but if you insist." you can't see what kind of expression he's wearing right now, but you imagine he's smiling at you teasingly. like he always does.
you trail behind him as he walks over to his chambers.
for sure, it doesn't take long until he reaches his room. sukuna slides open the door and makes his way to his large futon in the middle of the tatami floor. he makes himself comfortable, and lays on his side while you watch him from outside his room.
"you're still here. well? are you planning on tucking me into bed next?" he asks with his usual mockery, chuckling through his nose.
you frown cutely, feeling a deep sense of unfairness in the pit of your stomach.
"i was just about to leave, sukuna-sama," you respond a bit haughtily, getting bold with him.
"is that so. then run along," he ushers you, following that with a big yawn. your frown gets deeper.
you begin to slowly close his door, but then stop when it's only cracked open slightly. you brace yourself for the request you are about to make.
"sukuna-sama... could i sleep beside you, tonight?" you ask meekly.
his lips curl up similarly to that of a cheshire cat. finally, you're getting honest with him. he loves the feeling of having you run about in the palm of his hand.
"i thought you said you were going to leave?"
"please...?" you muster your best puppy eyes.
the lord smirks again, and eventually beckons you in with his index finger. you perk up, and step into his room with excitement, running into his futon like a dog, tail wagging from the happiness of being with its owner.
"you're like a silly mutt. foolish, but cute. i like the way you beg for my affection."
you're not sure on how to feel about being compared to a mutt, but you suppose it's not the worst comparison in the world.
"woof," you say quietly, shuffling closer to him. he laughs deeply at you. from your tight embrace with him, you feel the vibrations from his chuckling against his chest.
...there's always something hot or warm about sukuna.
his whole presence feels like a roaring fire at times, burning with his strength and charisma - the flames and temperature threatening to scald anyone around him.
but,
right here, when you're in his arms, the fire becomes tame. still an unrelenting and strong flame, but something more controlled and comfortable to be around.
you close your eyes with a smile, satisfied with this outcome.
"oi. i don't recall saying you could sleep yet."
that makes your eyes bolt open with confusion. sukuna furrows his brows and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together.
"you're in my futon, and all you can think about is sleeping? i don't know how to feel about that."
"oh... was there something else you wanted from me, sukuna-sama?"
he looks further displeased by your question and suddenly grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head. you gasp, surprised by his sudden shift in mood.
"we should continue with where we left off, shouldn't we?"
another hand comes up to hold your neck gently for a moment, before he slides it down slowly to your chest, the warmth from his palm trailing with it, reaching your clothed breasts, making your head spin with arousal.
"were you not anticipating something like this? when you asked to stay the night beside me."
he leans down and presses his lips against the space just below your ear, making you shudder. he likes this reaction, and continues kissing down your neck.
"s-sukuna-sama..."
"what a lewd tone you're using with my name. i hope you're prepared for the consequences of that."
he overtakes your senses with another searing hot kiss. hands clawing away at your kimono. teasing touches to your chest. his flames are threatening to envelop you, producing yet another unique kind of heat.
but you've never welcomed anything else more in your life. you'd gladly burn to ashes if it means being so close to your lord, your light.
...it's safe to say that you woke up the next morning with more bruises and bite marks than the number of fingers you have on your hands. and the lord lays beside your exhausted frame, aimlessly curling a lock of your hair around his finger with a satisfied grin on his face.
during one quiet afternoon, uraume beckons you towards them.
"i've been ordered to dress you lavishly. come with me."
you follow them without question, wondering what the sudden occasion could be. lord sukuna has left for the battlefield once again, so he's been missing for a couple of days. is he due to come back this evening?
such hopes fill your mind.
you stand awkwardly as uraume fits a rather elegant and expensive, but beautiful looking kimono onto you. it feels odd. you could even say you feel a bit guilty; in what world would someone dress a servant so extravagantly? nonetheless, you accept the treatment with silence. you get lost in your own daydreams, while uraume prepares you for whatever's been arranged for you.
by the end of it all, they angle you to face the mirror properly, their hands placed on your shoulders.
"it's complete. feel free to take a look at yourself."
you turn your face to one side, and then the other, all while keeping your eyes on the mirror. you look... stunning.
"th-thank you..." you tell uraume, quite speechless.
"please withhold that gratitude for lord sukuna. he was the one that arranged for this, after all."
you're then told to wait at the courtyard, for the lord's return. tingles of excitement run through your veins, and reaches the tips of your fingers, at having your hopes confirmed. he's due to return tonight.
quite a bit of time passes. yet, no signs of him coming back yet. you swing your legs back and forth languidly over the engawa, looking up at the sky aimlessly. though you shouldn't be doing such a thing when you've been fitted with a lovely kimono, there's no one around to scold or stop you from your usual habits.
you sigh, wondering when he'll be back. your eyes wander around the garden, this time. under the moonlight, there's a singular butterfly that flutters about, appearing in good timing as if to help cure your boredom.
you step out onto the grass and approach it, lending out a finger towards it to see if it decides to land on your hand. it takes a bit of effort, but after some gentle movements and patience, it eventually stops to linger on your index finger for a while. it allows you to admire every ridge, and all the patterns on the wings in better detail. you wonder whether you'll ever get another opportunity to observe a butterfly so closely again in the future.
a few footsteps resound behind you, getting you startled. when your body moves slightly from the scare, the butterfly flees and seemingly disappears out of sight.
yet, right now, you have no room to feel disappointed by a mere butterfly.
sukuna is smirking at you from a distance, looking very pleased with the way you're dressed for him. he steps down and walks into the garden as well, approaching you languidly, one arm concealed under the sleeve of his kimono.
"welcome back, sukuna-sama. i've been awaiting for your return," you greet him, smiling.
"were you now? missed me that bad?" he asks, reaching out to caress your cheek.
"yes, my lord. i missed you so much. not a day goes by where i don't think about you."
"why, how sweet...perhaps you deserve a reward for your honesty."
"a reward...?" your eyes grow wide and you start getting embarrassingly overjoyed at the idea of a reward given to you by the lord himself.
"so eager. you seem like you're truly getting committed to playing the role of a mutt."
you try to change your expression in haste, but you end up looking more bashful than anything. sukuna laughs at another one of your strange expressions.
"i'm only teasing."
he then pulls his arm out of his sleeve, revealing something you never thought you'd see in his hands.
a hairpin... specifically, one with a large blue butterfly on it. embedded with pretty jewels, and shaped to perfection. it would've been something difficult to obtain. for someone who's always busy creating chaos, when would he have had the time to find such a thing amongst everything else?
"i thought you would enjoy having something like this. do you like it?"
"oh... like would be an understatement, sukuna-sama. i adore it. is it really for me?"
"who else could have it? don't ask foolish questions."
it could only ever belong to you.
he places the pin into your hair, graceful and elegant with his hands. it makes you feel overjoyed. heat rises to your cheeks and they hurt from how much you're smiling.
"not bad at all. it was worth obtaining."
your hand rises to where the hairpin is, and you touch it gently, letting your fingertips feel the texture of the pin and it's butterfly pattern.
"am i... am i pretty, my lord?" you ask sheepishly, looking up at him with your doe eyes.
he's smiling at you rather gently, his eyes mirroring your reflection within them as he gazes down at you in silence. his lack of a verbal response almost makes you nervous, however.
sukuna reaches out to hold your hand, and pulls you closer towards him. he's glad that nobody else is around, for he's certain they would've also felt so drawn to you, like he is right now.
he palms your cheek again, before letting his thumb brush over your lips delicately.
you never sever your gaze from him, continuing to await his reply.
"... you're beautiful,"
he finally relents.
sukuna then presses his lips against yours, underneath the moon's blessing. once again, and forevermore.
fin.
Masterlist
#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#soft sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you
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opposites attract.
↳synopsis: you are on the verge of being expelled, so your teacher helps you find a tutor, yet what you weren't expecting was much more than just tutoring sessions.
↳ word count: 14.3k
↳ a/n: i know this isnt misfits or misfits related but i wanted to give you guys something whilst you wait for the next chapter. i havent been active due to a majot burnout, but im getting into the swing of it again. I hope you enjoy this one shot whilst you wait for the next chapter <3
↳ warnings: fem bodied reader, mentions of alcohol, explicit smut, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected sex (wrap it pls), gn pronouns but Yunho calls reader a good girl.
MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT AHEAD
"Expelled, what do you mean?" you exclaim, the words of your professor hitting you like a sudden, unwelcome storm.
Your professor leans forward, her expression grave. "If you don’t make a change," she replies, her tone weighted with concern. "Your recent academic performance has been far from ideal, and it's no secret that you'd rather be out partying and socialising than studying. I've tried to advocate for you for the past few months, but even the student council is beginning to lose faith. You need to make a change, or else they will remove you from this program."
The news leaves you feeling torn. You have always been drawn to the vibrant social scene on campus, and it was no secret that you enjoy a good party. Balancing your studies with your social life has been a constant struggle, and it has finally caught up with you in the form of this dire warning.
Taking a deep breath, you try to gather your thoughts, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. "I don't know what to do, though," you admit, your voice tinged with both desperation and uncertainty.
Professor Turner fixes her gaze on you, her expression stern yet caring. Her half-moon glasses perch on the edge of her nose lends an air of wisdom to her appearance. She had always been one of the few teachers who genuinely believed in your potential, even if you hadn't quite lived up to it yet.
She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "You can start by addressing that persistent partying issue," she says, her tone deadpan but not without a hint of exasperation. "I've always seen your talent, but it's time for you to believe in it too. My patience for you is wearing thin, and the threat of expulsion is very real. You need to get your studies together, and fast."
Her words strike a chord, and bow your head down, tears starting to form in your eyes. The urgency of the situation finally sinks in, and you know it is time to make a change.
Professor Turner's expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, understanding the turmoil in your eyes. "I know it can be challenging to balance both, but it's essential. Perhaps you can establish a more structured study schedule and limit your social activities during the week.”
Looking up at her, you notice the warmth and unwavering belief in her eyes, which provides a glimmer of hope amidst your uncertainty.
She continues, "In fact, I found a tutor for you. Someone had to cancel on him at the last minute, and he's willing to take you on until your grades improve. He’s an incredibly sweet person, his grades are the best in my class."
Although you would rather avoid any study sessions or anything to do with your university academics, you reluctantly take the paper showcasing the number of the tutor your professor found for you. The paper displays the name "Jeong Yunho" along with his contact number. You have never heard of him before, which was unusual considering you considered yourself as a social butterfly who knew nearly everyone on campus. It occurred to you that there truly was a first time for everything.
As you held the paper, a sense of curiosity overcame your reluctance. You pondered the mystery behind this unknown tutor and wondered what kind of person Jeong Yunho was.
—
Clutching your bag tightly under your arm, you reluctantly made your way towards the library on a Friday evening. With every step, you grumbled to yourself, yearning to be at a lively party instead, drowning your sorrows about the looming threat of expulsion. The future seemed bleak, and hope was a distant memory. When you left Professor Turner's office earlier, you almost crumpled the paper she had given you, fully intent on disregarding any contact with whoever the hell Yunho is.
The journey to the library is slow, partly because you have never set foot in the place before, and partly due to your resistance against the impending academic endeavour. You had never planned on being a library regular; it wasn't part of your college vision. Yet, the harsh reality of the potential consequences weigh heavily on your mind. Losing your education at this point would not only set you back years but also jeopardise all the hard work you have invested to even make it to this esteemed school in the first place.
With every reluctant step, you can’t help but reflect on the choices that have led you here. It was time to face the music, find this enigmatic Yunho, and see if, against all odds, he held the key to salvaging your academic future.
Pushing open the heavy wooden doors of the university library, you're immediately greeted by the familiar scent of aged books and hushed whispers. The soft lighting casts a warm glow over the rows of shelves filled with knowledge, and you can't help but feel out of place in this quiet atmosphere. You've rarely ventured into this sanctuary of academia, and your lack of familiarity is evident as you scan the cavernous space, unsure of where to start
Stepping further into the library, your frustration and reluctance grow. You have little idea of who you're even looking for. The notion that Yunho might be some stereotypical "nerd-looking" guy briefly crosses your mind, and you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the shallow assumption.
After several minutes of wandering the labyrinthine aisles, you find yourself standing in the centre of the library, defeated and ready to give up on this wild goose chase. You can't even muster the energy to be disappointed; you're too focused on your own internal battle between academic responsibilities and your desire for the social scene.
Just as you turn to head for the exit, your hasty retreat is halted by an unexpected and rather forceful collision. You practically bump into a broad, solid chest that seemingly appears out of nowhere. Startled, you stagger back a step, nearly dropping the papers that you have clenched in your hand.
Looking up, you're met with the sight of a tall man, much taller than you. The first thing you notice is his thick black-framed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a rather studious appearance. However, his eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity, and his friendly, wide smile catches you off guard.
"I'm sorry," you stammer, feeling flustered by the unexpected encounter.
The man's voice is deep and soothing and light-hearted as he replies, "No need to apologise. Are you looking for someone, or can I help you find a book or something?"
You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should reveal your purpose in the library. But the kindness in his eyes and the genuine desire to assist make you decide to share. "Actually, I'm trying to find someone named Yunho. I was told he could help me with my studies."
His smile widens, his eyes scrunching in the process, and he extends a hand in greeting. "Yunho, at your service. It's nice to meet you."
You shake his hand, feeling a mix of surprise and relief. Yunho is not what you had expected, and the moment you assumed he'd be a stereotypical "nerd" is now a distant memory. As you look into his friendly eyes, a sense of hope and optimism begins to replace the frustration and doubt that had plagued you earlier.
"You're Yunho?" you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice, as he begins to lead you towards where it appears he was sitting.
"Yes, is it hard to believe?" Yunho responds, a slight nervousness in his tone. "I can get my ID out if you're sceptical." He quickly reaches into his pocket, his ears turning a shade of red as he rushes to grab his ID.
Hastily, you halt him, not wanting to put him through the trouble of proving his identity. Silently, you smile to yourself, he is sweet.
You and Yunho take a seat at a quiet corner table within the library, and you find yourself fidgeting with unease in your chair. Yunho, observant of your discomfort, wisely refrains from commenting, valuing your need for privacy.
"Alright," Yunho began, adjusting his glasses with a hint of nervousness in his demeanour. He reaches into his bag, carefully pulling out two well-worn textbooks and a stack of papers, placing them on the table in front of you.
"I wasn't entirely sure which topics you needed help with, so I brought materials for all five modules you're studying this semester."
You examine the books, their covers showing the marks of countless readers who had delved into their pages.
"Are these your books?" you inquire, surprised by the thoughtfulness he has put into his preparation.
Yunho shakes his head, his cheeks flushing slightly as he admits, "No, I borrowed them from the library. Microbiology isn't my field of study."
Your disbelief is evident as you fix your gaze on him. The rosy hue on his cheeks deepens as he fiddles with the sleeves of his oversized sweater and adjusts his glasses nervously. "You don't study microbiology?" you ask, genuinely surprised.
"No," Yunho confesses, his embarrassment now fully on display. "I just study it as a hobby."
You can’t help but be impressed by his dedication and the sheer audacity of teaching a subject purely out of passion.
"That's impressive," you state. You were well aware that to tutor a subject officially, one typically needed to pass a test administered by the school, certifying one's proficiency. The fact that Yunho was willing to help without any formal obligation was both admirable and unexpected.
Curiosity gets the better of you, you inquire, "What else do you tutor?"
Yunho hesitates for a moment, his fingers still absently adjusting his glasses. "Um, history, algebra, and applied sciences," he finally reveals, his modesty and shyness contrasting with his evident knowledge.
As you listened to him speak, you found yourself captivated not only by his academic prowess but also by the way he wore his thick glasses and his endearing shyness. Yunho was turning out to be a surprising and impressive individual, and you couldn't help but feel a growing fascination with the person who had just entered your academic world.
“So how much do you know about Microbiology?” Yunho questions, thinning through some of the papers in front of him.
“Uh, the basics I guess.” you mumble, your knowledge not the best seeing as you have missed many lectures the past few months.
Yunho's gaze meets yours, and you sense him observing your unease as his eyes traverse your form.
With a soft tone, he reassures you, "it’s okay, you can be honest. I'm here to help you, so you have to be honest. Then I can help you in the best way possible.”
For a fleeting moment, his words touch your heart, a warmth spreading within. Yet, you quickly suppress the feeling, reminding yourself that there is no time for such emotions in your busy life.
“I’ve forgotten a lot, to be honest.”
“That’s okay, we will start with the basics today, to refresh your memory.”
Under the soft glow of the study lamps in your cosy corner of the library, Yunho begins to unravel the basics. The excitement in his eyes was unmistakable, his passion for the subject evident with every word he spoke.
"Alright," he begins, tracing his finger along the pages filled with complex diagrams and scientific jargon. "As you likely already know, microbiology is the study of tiny organisms, like bacteria, viruses, and fungi. These microorganisms are everywhere, and they play a crucial role in our lives, from the food we eat to the diseases we encounter."
Yunho's explanation is clear and concise, making sure to break down complex ideas into easily digestible pieces.
He continues, "Uhh, the basics: the three main types of microorganisms. First, there are bacteria. They're single-celled organisms that can be both good and bad. Some bacteria help with digestion in your gut, while others can cause diseases."
You nod along, your memory starting to be refreshed. Yunho's enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself getting more and more interested in the subject.
He flips to a page with colourful illustrations of various microorganisms. "Then there are viruses, which are even smaller than bacteria. They're not considered living because they can't reproduce on their own. Instead, they need a host cell to replicate. Viruses are responsible for many illnesses, like the flu or COVID."
You absorb the information, appreciating how Yunho made the complex concept of viruses relatable. "And the third type?" you prompt.
"Ah, fungi," Yunho smiles. "Fungi are more complex microorganisms. They can be beneficial, like the yeast used in baking bread, or harmful, causing infections like athlete's foot. They're known for their unique cell structure and reproduction methods."
Whilst he explains, he encourages you to ask questions, making sure you are following along. The library's serene ambiance, coupled with Yunho's patient teaching, created a comfortable learning atmosphere. He didn't rush, taking his time to make sure you grasped each concept before moving on.
He continued to cover the basics of microbiology, including the significance of studying these microorganisms, their role in medicine, agriculture, and environmental science. Yunho's passion for the subject was evident in the way he animatedly discussed the various branches of microbiology, from medical microbiology to environmental microbiology, each with its unique focus and importance.
In the quiet of the library, during this unexpected first study session, you find yourself lost in thought. This wasn't how you had imagined it would go, and you can’t help but be impressed and thankful for Yunho's extraordinary patience and intelligence.
You had initially expected a conventional tutoring experience, but Yunho has proven to be so much more. His explanations were crystal clear, his passion for the subject contagious, and his willingness to help you with genuine enthusiasm is striking. He isn’t just a smart individual; he is a rare combination of intelligence and empathy.
You marvel at the fact that he wasn't the stereotypical snobby, know-it-all type who might look down on your abilities. Instead, Yunho is an embodiment of understanding and non-judgment. As he continues to make the complex subject of microbiology comprehensible, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude.
The study session with Yunho nears its end and you find yourself in a much different frame of mind than when you had started. Initially apprehensive about having a tutor, you have been pleasantly surprised by the experience. Your worries have somewhat melted away, replaced by a growing sense of confidence and gratitude.
Yunho, having covered a significant portion of the microbiology basics, closes the textbook with a satisfied smile. "I think we've made some good progress today," he says. "But there is still a lot we have to cover before exams next month. I expect to see you every Wednesday and Friday until then." Yunho attempts a stern voice, jokingly pointing his finger at you.
You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Yes sir.” you salute him, acting back on his funny actions.
Gathering your belongings, you prepare to leave the library, yet Yunho surprises you with a genuine offer.
"If you ever have questions or need further assistance, don't hesitate to reach out. I'm here to help, and I enjoy teaching. We can meet on more days if you need."
You smile at the sincerity in his voice, “that’s okay, Yunho.” you say before turning towards the exit.
Walking out of the library, a lightness seems to settle upon your chest, replacing the initial apprehension with a sense of accomplishment. Glancing at your phone, you note that it is only ten in the evening. This realisation fills you with a newfound sense of freedom and opportunity.
With a contented smile, you contemplate the evening unfolding before you. The memory of the house party, just a short walk down the road, initially seemed distant due to your earlier commitment to the study session with Yunho. Despite knowing that you should be heading home to review your notes, a mischievous thought crept into your mind – what Yunho didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
A sly smirk plays on your lips as you begin to make your way toward the house party. You can’t deny the allure of a night filled with fun and perhaps a little indulgence. Yet, as you take your first steps, a fleeting moment of hesitation overcomes you. You pause, reflecting on the considerable effort Yunho had put into helping you today.
It is a big realisation. Few, if any, have ever invested so much time and effort in your growth and success. Your heart warms for a brief second at the thought, but just as quickly, you push aside those emotions. You have your reasons – a past that still haunted you, and the fear of getting your heart broken once more. You can’t afford to be vulnerable.
Despite your better judgement, you continue your journey to the house party, determined to enjoy the night to the fullest.
Unbeknownst to you, though, Yunho's presence would linger in your thoughts throughout the night.
—
Several weeks have passed since the start of your study sessions with Yunho, and it has been quite the transformative period. Initially, you had been reluctant to engage in any additional study outside of your scheduled sessions with him. But over time, Yunho's presence had become a reassuring constant in your life, offering a sense of peace and support that you couldn't quite admit to yourself.
During the past couple of weeks, you found yourself increasingly immersed in your books and studies, even sometimes choosing academic pursuits over the lively parties that your large, party-loving friend group frequented.
The shift in your priorities had not gone unnoticed by your friends, who seemed disheartened by your withdrawal from their activities. A residue of guilt clings to you every time you opted to hit the books rather than attend a party. Your ‘friends’ have grown vocal about it, casting you as a bore and a waste of time, berating you for supposedly losing your popularity.
Amid this turmoil, your study sessions with Yunho had become a sanctuary, a refuge from the social pressure and expectations. What you didn't fully realise was the profound positive impact these sessions were having on you, not just academically but also in terms of your personal growth.
Just a few days ago, you faced your first exam since you had started your sessions with Yunho and today you are receiving the results. You are well aware that if you do not pass this, it is not a huge deal seeing as it is not a final exam. Yet you do need to prove yourself to the student council by at least getting a D.
The anticipation is palpable in Professor Turner's classroom, the air thick with nervous energy. She stands at the front of the room, clutching a stack of papers that hold the results of the previous week's exam. Your heart races as you sit there, your anxiety mounting with each passing moment.
Whilst Professor Turner begins to distribute the grades, your palms grow clammy, and your heart races even faster.
As Professor Turner finally reaches your desk, she hands you the paper with a warm smile that holds an underlying pride. In the corner of the sheet, a vibrant red 'C' was marked. It isn’t the highest grade in the class, but at this moment, it feels like a monumental achievement.
A sense of accomplishment washes over you like a warm wave, as you realise that all the effort, Yunho's unwavering support, and Professor Turner's belief in you is beginning to pay off.
You cannot wait to let Yunho know about the news.
The campus courtyard was alive with activity as students milled about, enjoying the pleasant weather and the break from their studies. Among the various clusters of friends, you spot Yunho, standing with a small group of his own. His friends seem to be engaged in an animated conversation, their voices and laughter filling the air.
You observe Yunho for a brief moment, his expression appearing neutral as he attentively listens to his friend's conversation. Your gaze then drifts down to the sight of Yunho pulling up the sleeves of his knitted sweater, revealing his unexpectedly well-defined forearms. The contrast between his baggy clothing and his toned physique momentarily catches you off guard.
But as you approach, your excitement is impossible to contain, the momentary thought of how toned Yunho is elsewhere leaves your mind. Your heart races, and you feel a surge of joy within you. The sense of accomplishment overwhelms you, and you can’t wait to share the news with Yunho, regardless of the audience.
Without hesitation, you stride purposefully toward him, determination etched across your face. The moment you reach him, you suddenly feel a little small under the eyes of his friends who seem to have noticed you approaching.
“Yunho,” you say gently, attempting to get his attention.
Yunho turns around, surprised to see you talking to him outside of your study sessions.
“Hey, what’s up?” Yunho questions, his attention fully on you as he forgets his friends existence.
“I passed the exam,” you beam, “well barely it was only a C.”
Yunho’s eyes widen as his face breaks into a bright, genuine smile. His eyes, behind his thick glasses, now sparkle with delight.
"That's amazing! I knew you could do it!" he exclaims, his enthusiasm matching yours.
His friends can’t resist exchanging glances among themselves, finding it rather peculiar to witness your conversation with Yunho. After all, you are a highly popular figure in their school, while Yunho remains a reserved and relatively unknown individual.
The smile of pride that graces Yunho's face stirs a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, a sensation that has become increasingly common in recent times. Yet, you can't quite bring yourself to acknowledge the feeling, even to yourself.
Yunho's hand rises with a touch of hesitation before gently resting on the top of your head, playfully ruffling your hair to convey a silent 'good job.' Your entire face warms at the simple gesture, a blush creeping across your cheeks.
"Now, it's time to focus on those major tests, okay?" Yunho exclaims, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he makes an effort to infuse you with the same excitement.
"Yes, sir," you respond with a playful salute, evoking a chuckle from his lips. Saluting Yunho has become somewhat of a habit, and he finds it endearing every time you do it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
You offer a nod, a warm smile gracing your face as you wave and bid farewell to Yunho and his friends.
Walking away, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for Yunho's unwavering support, not just as a tutor but as a friend who is being a great help in your journey toward success.
His encouragement had been a driving force in your recent accomplishments, and you couldn't have been happier to share this victory with him and his friends in the vibrant courtyard, a testament to the bonds forged through your academic pursuits.
As you depart, Yunho's gaze lingers on your retreating figure, a faint smile gracing his lips as he replays the conversation in his mind. The moment you vanish from his sight, his friends swivel toward him, their faces etched with bewilderment and curiosity.
"When you mentioned you were tutoring someone, you didn't say it was them?" Wooyoung exclaims, genuine confusion stemming from the exchange they just witnessed.
Yunho, momentarily caught off guard by their reactions, inquires, "What do you mean?" He shifts his attention toward the group, ready to address their inquiries.
"Dude, she's the most popular person in this school; you don't just get to talk to them," San chimes in, his astonishment mirroring Wooyoung's.
Yunho, however, didn't buy into the notion of social hierarchies. He pokes San in the forehead, responding, "We're not in high school anymore, and there's no such thing as popular girls and guys."
Wooyoung's expression softens as he mulls over your interaction. "And they were so nice," he continues, noting Yunho's reaction. "I didn't expect someone with their status to be so nice."
Yunho's annoyance flares at the stereotype implied in Wooyoung's words, his brow furrowing. "Don't hold such stereotypes," he chastises his friend. "They... they are the sweetest person I know."
San's eyes widen as he glances at Yunho, connecting the dots. "Holy moly," he exclaims. "You like them, don't you?"
Yunho scrambles to hush him up, his cheeks flushing. "Shut up," he grumbles, though the embarrassment in his voice hints at a deeper truth.
—
“Ugh, I’m never going to pass this test,” you groan as you throw your head into your hands, frustration emitting from your every fibre.
"Come on, don't be so pessimistic. You've got this, and I believe in you," Yunho exclaims, his warm smile casting a ray of encouragement over the room. He watches as you succumb to a hissy fit, a mix of frustration and self-doubt, a smile covering his features at your actions.
"You always say that, but this time I am doomed," you groan, your voice muffled by your hands as you bury your face in them.
Gently, Yunho reaches out and takes your hands, coaxing them away from your face. The contact sends a brief tremor through your heart, and you can’t help but notice the warmth of his touch.
"You can do it; you're the smartest person I know," Yunho says softly, locking his eyes with yours. His words catch you off guard, and you look at him, a puzzled expression furrowing your brow.
"I'm not smart; if I were, I wouldn't need a tutor," you state flatly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone, which elicits a chuckle from Yunho.
"I'd be an idiot not to see your potential. I just think you had your priorities muddled when you first came here," he remarks.
Curious, you probe further. "What do you mean?"
"I mean it's no secret you enjoy a party," Yunho replies.
"No, before that."
"Oh," Yunho responds, and he continues, seemingly on a roll, "Well, I'd have to be blind not to see how smart you actually are. You're very capable of applying knowledge and solving problems. You have an excellent memory; most of the time, I only have to explain something once, and you've already processed it and applied it. It's very impressive. You're incredibly talented too. I see all the drawings you do in your book when you’re bored."
Yunho continues his praise, yet he is unaware of the emotions that well up within you. When he eventually glances in your direction, he is taken aback to find your eyes glistening with tears and a smile gracing your face.
"Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry if it wasn't my intention," he inquires quickly, a sense of concern crossing his features as he worries he may have inadvertently hurt your feelings.
You shake your head and wipe away a tear, still smiling. "No, Yunho. It's just... no one really sees me like that anymore."
Now Yunho is confused for a different reason. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, most people see me as the 'popular girl' or 'the life of the party.' I don't know. It's nice to be seen as something other than the stereotype.”
"I know what you mean," Yunho says, his hand ruffling his hair as his cheeks turn a faint shade of red.
"What do you mean?" you ask, intrigued by his response.
"Well, I'm usually seen as a nerd or a loner. People only talk to me when they need help with assignments or answers for exams. It was nice at first, feeling needed, but now it just feels like I'm being used in a way. I only have two friends, and they spend more time with each other than they do with me." Yunho admits, his gaze drifting down to his fingers, where he idly picks at a piece of dead skin on his nail.
"I know it's weird coming from me since you're literally my tutor, but I don't think your intelligence defines you," You begin, causing Yunho to look up at you with a puzzled expression, waiting for you to elaborate.
You continue, your words flowing with sincerity, "You're a sweetheart, Yunho. I see you helping people, not because you have to, but because you genuinely enjoy it. You're kind, a gentleman, and incredibly thoughtful. Your sense of humour is beyond anyone I've ever met before; it's refreshing to talk to someone whose humour isn't just 'your momma' jokes or making others look bad to get a laugh."
Yunho furrows his eyebrows, taking in your words, his expression almost studying them.
"Plus," you add, a warm smile gracing your face, "whether you like it or not, I consider you my friend."
—
The evening sun casts a warm glow over the campus as you join your friend group in the bustling cafeteria. Laughter and chatter filled the air as you settled in with them at your usual table. The topic of conversation quickly turns to the party happening later in the night, an event that has become increasingly rare for you to attend. The thought of partying when there was a crucial final exam on the horizon weighs heavily on your mind.
"Hey, you are coming to the party tonight, right?" your friend asks, a glimmer of anticipation in their eyes.
You hesitate for a moment, knowing what your priorities were. "I wish I could, but I really need to study for the final exam," you explain.
Immediately, your friends' expressions grow sour, and they exchange incredulous glances. "Again? You're always studying or making excuses. It's like you're avoiding us," one of them remarks, frustration creeping into their tone.
Their words sting, and you feel the pressure of their expectations bearing down on you. "I'm not avoiding anyone; I just have to prioritise my studies, you guys know I might get expelled." you insist, your voice wavering slightly as you try to maintain your composure.
But your friends aren’t satisfied with your explanation.
"You never come to parties anymore. You're turning into a loser nerd, just like that loner Yunho," another friend declares with a snide tone, and the others chime in agreement, chuckles leaving their mouths.
The words strike a nerve, and you can’t hold back any longer. How dare they insult Yunho, who has been there for you during your toughest times of studying? The anger that has been building up inside you erupts.
"Yunho is not a loser," you snap, your voice filled with indignation. "He's been more of a friend to me than any of you. If you can't understand the importance of my studies and support me, then I don't need ‘friends’ like you."
At that moment, you make a decision. These friends are just immature individuals who only care about getting drunk and partying. They value popularity and shallow connections over your well-being and academic success. You have had enough of pretending to be something you weren't just to fit in.
"I don't care about popularity if it means I have to be fake and have fake-ass friends," you exclaim. With that, you push your chair back and leave the table, leaving your former friends behind, realising that true friendship means understanding and respecting your priorities, not forcing you to compromise your goals.
Walking away from the cafeteria, you feel a mix of anger, relief, and sadness. It was painful to let go of friendships that had once meant so much to you, but you knew that your academic journey is more important than trying to fit into a mould that didn't truly represent who you were.
Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t prevent them from spilling over as you stand just outside the school gates. You pay no mind to the curious glances of onlookers, for your emotions are too overwhelming to be hidden. You aren’t entirely certain if these tears are born of sadness, frustration, or a turbulent mix of both.
Without even thinking, you pull out your phone and dial Yunho’s number. You are not sure if you want to be alone tonight, yet you definitely do not want to go to a party. The only person you know will be available is Yunho. Maybe you can have an extra study session tonight.
It takes the phone only five seconds before Yunho picks up, his voice bright as he greets you.
"Hey, Yunho," you begin, attempting to maintain a sense of composure, but the tremor in your voice reveals your unease.
Yunho's keen ear picks up on the shakiness in your tone, and concern washes over him as he responds with a soft, soothing voice, "What's wrong?"
You sniffle, trying to brush off the emotions threatening to overcome you. "Nothing, it's nothing," you reply, your voice still carrying the traces of distress. "Are you free to study? I don't have anything to do, and I need to go over a few things."
Yunho is aware that a big party is scheduled for tonight, information he had gathered from Wooyoung, who also enjoys such gatherings. He finds it puzzling that you, too, had initially expressed an interest in attending the event, but he refrained from voicing his curiosity.
"I am free, but the library is closed today, and the school is closing soon too," Yunho explains, an idea begins to take root in his mind, and he hesitates before asking, "You could come to my place?"
The offer hangs in the air for a moment, full of unspoken implications. Yunho's excitement about the prospect of having you over is palpable, yet he tries to maintain his composure. He knows that his place will offer a quiet environment for studying.
The offer hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, you hesitate. You are well aware that accepting Yunho's invitation would signify a slight shift in your academic tutor relationship. The unspoken implications dance in the silence between you.
Yunho, on the other hand, finds his nervousness manifesting in the way he chews the inside of his cheek. His heart races as he awaits your response, unsure of how you would react to his proposition.
Despite your initial reservations, you can’t seem to bring yourself to decline his offer. The warmth and genuine concern that Yunho has consistently shown makes you feel safe and comfortable around him, and you find it difficult to resist the idea of studying in his presence, even if it means stepping slightly outside the boundaries of your tutor-student dynamic.
“What’s your address?”
Making your way to Yunho's apartment, the anticipation of seeing him outside the usual academic setting adds an extra layer of excitement to your steps. The prospect of stepping into his personal space, even for a study session, feels like a small adventure.
You reach his apartment door and take a moment to collect yourself, your heart beating just a bit faster with each passing second. When you knock, the immediate rustling sounds from the other side of the door indicate that Yunho is indeed home.
The door opens, revealing a sight that takes your breath away. You are accustomed to seeing Yunho in smart attire, his hair always neatly styled, and he consistently looks presentable. However, the man who stands before you now is quite different.
Yunho is dressed in a loose grey T-shirt that hangs comfortably on his frame, and he wears a pair of black sweatpants that appear as cosy as they are casual. His hair is fluffy and untamed, in stark contrast to his usually well-groomed appearance. Yet, for some reason, this version of Yunho is just as captivating.
He still wears his thick glasses, but the way he looks now, so relaxed and approachable, makes your heart flutter. You can’t help but notice the subtle differences that render him all the more appealing. Your eyes linger on his toned arms, a part of him that was typically concealed beneath his attire. The sight of them, revealed in the simple T-shirt, is enough to send a rush of warmth throughout your body.
Yunho's appearance today is a stark departure from his usual academic demeanour, and it leaves you both pleasantly surprised and, admittedly, a little flustered.
"Hey, uh, you can come in," Yunho stammers, a faint blush covering his cheeks.
You step inside, casting a brief but appreciative glance around Yunho's apartment. The space is on the smaller side, but it exudes a cosy charm that instantly puts you at ease. The apartment is immaculately clean and well-organised with a sense of tranquillity that contrasts with the bustling student life outside.
The living room is adorned with shelves, and the shelves are full of an impressive array of books, neatly arranged in rows. The sight of so many books gives you a glimpse into the depth of his knowledge and his passion for education.
As you look around, you notice a comfortable-looking sofa with a warm throw blanket tossed over it, a sign of a space that was both functional and inviting. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated a study area with a well-kept desk, hinting at countless hours of diligent work.
Yunho's apartment is not large, but it feels like a haven for anyone seeking a peaceful refuge from the outside world. It reminds you of Yunho.
"Do you want something to drink or eat?" Yunho asks, his voice tinged with a touch of nervousness as he observes your exploration of his apartment.
You take a moment to absorb the cosy ambiance of his living space before replying, "Have you had dinner?"
Yunho's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and a small, endearing smile graced his lips. “I haven't yet, I was going to order something later.”
“Can we eat together? I haven't eaten since this morning.”
Yunho grumbles your name, reprimanding you, "I told you, you need to eat regularly; it helps with..."
You finish his sentence with a soft chuckle, "Concentration, I know, Yu."
The use of the affectionate nickname "Yu" slips easily from your lips, and you are unaware of the profound impact it has on Yunho. His heart races at the sound of it, though he tries to hide his reaction with a smile.
You continue, "We can eat while studying, right?" Your suggestion seems to lighten the mood, and Yunho is more than willing to accommodate your request.
“Of course.”
Yunho and you sit on the floor of his living room, your books and notes spread out on his coffee table, which also hold the remnants of an empty pizza box from your meal earlier. This makeshift study space is cosy, and the atmosphere is filled with the shared pursuit of knowledge.
Yunho is positioned in front of you, as he often is during your study sessions, carefully watching you as you diligently take notes. He couldn't help but admire your dedication and determination, and his heart swelled with pride as he saw your progress.
As you write, a strand of hair slips from behind your ear and falls in front of your face. It is a simple, everyday occurrence, but to Yunho, it is a moment of subtle beauty. He feels a strong urge to reach out and tuck that strand of hair behind your ear, to be close to you in that small, intimate way. However, he holds back, not wanting to push any boundaries that existed between you.
He watches with fascination as you decide to tie your hair up, using a hairband that was on your wrist. The act of gathering your hair and securing it in a ponytail seems almost magical to him. Yunho can’t deny the allure of how you look with your hair up, a sense of casual elegance that tugs at his heart.
In this moment, his thoughts stray to less innocent territories, but he quickly redirects his focus to the task at hand. He can’t afford to let his mind wander too far, not when the two of you are deep in a study session and he is fairly certain you would never harbour feelings for him in that way.
However, the image of you with your hair tied up stays with him, etched into his memory, a reminder of the many facets of your charm that make it increasingly difficult for him to keep his feelings at bay.
You furrow your brows, attempting to decipher a particularly complex passage about pathogens. It is a subject that has always managed to baffle you, and tonight was no exception.
Glancing up, you are caught off guard by the intense gaze of Yunho. He was already intently staring at you, an indescribable emotion in his eyes. Clearing your throat, you shift your focus back to the book, feeling the weight of his attention. Yunho immediately averts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in his own book.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to take a chance and ask the question that has been bothering you about the microorganism. "Yunho, can you help me with this? I don't quite understand this."
Yunho's attention snaps back to you, his eyes focusing on the book. However, as he leans in to get a better look, the words on the page seem to blur. Determined to help you, he moves closer, sitting next to you on the floor. His arm brushing against yours, his thigh lightly touching yours, creates a subtle yet undeniable physical connection.
Yunho looks down at your bare thighs and he mentally curses you for wearing a skirt, he isn't sure how to pay attention when you are so close to him.
Yunho begins to explain the terminology and you find it increasingly challenging to concentrate on the subject. Your eyes are locked on his face, drawn to the way his lips move and the subtle changes in his expression as he explains the concepts. His proximity was both distracting and comforting, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.
You cannot deny the allure of Yunho's presence. His crisp scent, a mix of a rich, woody sweetness and a hint of cologne, fills your senses and sends your mind racing. It is an intoxicating aroma that evokes a sense of freshness and warmth, creating an almost magnetic pull.
Listening to Yunho's explanations, you struggle to keep your focus on the topic at hand. Your eyes remain fixed on his face, capturing the play of emotions and the genuine care he puts into helping you understand. In this moment, the connection between you is undeniable, and the unspoken tension in the air seems to grow with each passing second. Little did you both know the profound effect you are having on each other as you lean against one another, on the verge of something unspoken. The second Yunho moves back to his seat, you suddenly feel awfully cold and empty, yet once again you push the feelings away.
The two of you continue your study session, when Yunho suddenly removes his glasses and rubs his eyes in a gesture of weariness. His actions catch your attention, and your gaze remains locked on his face, momentarily entranced by the change in his appearance.
In all the time you have spent with Yunho, you have never really taken into consideration how handsome he might be without his glasses. Now, as you observe his bare face, you are struck by his natural beauty. His features are chiselled and symmetrical, and there is a timeless quality to his face that make him incredibly appealing.
Yunho's clear eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, hold a depth that you haven't fully appreciated before. His skin was smooth and unblemished, and his lips had a natural rosy hue. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a different charm to him that you have never taken the time to notice.
For a moment, you find yourself in awe of how genuinely handsome he is, and you can’t help but appreciate the sight of him with his glasses off.
The study session is coming to a close, and as you gather your books and notes, you notice a curious look on Yunho's face. It is evident that he has something on his mind, and your curiosity gets the best of you.
"Is there something??" you inquire, your voice soft and inquisitive.
Yunho hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "When you called, you seemed upset. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I was just worried."
You look at him with a touch of surprise at his perceptiveness.
The fight with your friends wasn’t something you had planned to discuss, but you can sense the genuine concern in Yunho's expression, and you feel compelled to share.
Taking a deep breath, you begin to explain the situation, recounting the immaturity and unfair accusations that had led to the fallout. Yunho's shock and disbelief at their behaviour is palpable, and his expression reveals a mix of sympathy and frustration on your behalf.
"I can't believe they'd act like that," Yunho exclaims, his voice laced with sympathy. "It's their loss, you know. You're an incredible person, and they're the ones who are missing out."
Yunho's words are comforting, and the warmth of his understanding makes you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. It is a rare and welcome feeling to have someone truly empathise with your situation, and you find yourself grateful for his support.
Yunho watches you with a tender look when suddenly his curiosity gets the best of him, and he asks, "What does your boyfriend think of you coming to my house and spending so much time with me?"
You let out a sigh, the question touching a nerve you are not quite ready to address. "I don't have a boyfriend," you confess, and for a moment, there is a hint of vulnerability in your voice.
Yunho, genuinely surprised, raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his excitement as he peers at you. "Why not?"
You sigh again, your gaze dropping to the floor. "Most of the boys I'm around aren't ready for a relationship. They just want something casual, and I don't want to get my heart broken."
Yunho's brow furrows as he considers your response. "I didn't expect that," he admits, his voice tinged with surprise.
"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious about his reaction.
Yunho sets a piece of paper he had been studying in front of him, "I mean, you have guys falling at your feet. Don't you have one person you enjoy spending time with?"
You ponder on his words, your eyes lingering on Yunho, who is now fully engaged in the paper. He isn't looking at you; instead, his gaze is focused on the words before him.
After a moment of contemplation, you respond, "I enjoy spending time with you."
The second the words leave your lips, Yunho looks up from his reading, and the world seems to momentarily stand still around you. His heart skips a beat, and for a fraction of a second, everything else fades into the background. Your words hang in the air, and Yunho lets them sink in.
In this suspended moment, it is as if the universe conspired to create a connection that went beyond friendship and tutoring. Yunho's heart pounds in his chest, and he can’t help but meet your gaze with a mixture of surprise and affection.
Yunho cannot deny the impact of your confession. It is a sentiment he has quietly harboured but never dared to voice. Now, as the reality of your words settle in, he can’t help but feel a sense of joy and gratitude for the special bond that has grown between you, transcending the boundaries of tutor and student.
—
The night is alive with the promise of revelry as you arrive at a party, a whirlwind of colour and sound. It has been some time since you'd attended such an event, focusing intensely on your studies. But tonight is different. Hongjoong, an old friend who had no knowledge of falling out with your other friends, had invited you. You trusted him not to judge your academic priorities, and the prospect of enjoying yourself was too tempting to resist.
You had chosen to let loose for the evening. After an intense study session last night, you felt you deserved a break. You wear a stunning deep purple dress that hugs your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The fabric clings to you like a second skin, and its elegance draws the admiring gazes of many in attendance. Though you are well aware of the attention, you can’t help but feel indifferent to it now. Your priorities have shifted, and the superficial desires of others hold little sway over you.
Entering the party, the vibrant atmosphere envelopes you. The music throbs with an infectious beat, and the dance floor pulses with people lost in the rhythm. Laughter and conversations fill the air, and the warm glow of colourful lights creates a dazzling backdrop for the night's festivities.
Spotting Hongjoong in the kitchen, you make your way through the bustling crowd. He is deeply engrossed in a lively conversation with some of his friends, a characteristic grin lighting up his face. A sense of nostalgia and anticipation welled up within you as you drew closer.
You approach Hongjoong, who is mingling near the drinks table, a welcoming smile on his face as he spots you.
“Do you want a drink?” He offers, but you decline, stating that you have an early lecture the next morning.
Hongjoong nods understandingly, knowing you are dedicated to your studies. You are grateful for his response, as he does not press the issue but simply smiles and continues with the conversation.
“So you’ve gone back to your nerd roots,” Hongjoong jokes as he hands you a cup of cola.
You laugh as you take the cup, “it’s been a while since I've studied this hard,”
“You were always stuck in a book in highschool,”
“It’s nice to feel like my brain isn't rotting anymore,” you exclaim laughing.
“I’ll cheers to that,”
As you chat with Hongjoong, you enjoy catching up and the lively atmosphere of the party. When all of a sudden you see a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. At first, you thought your mind might be playing tricks on you, but as you turn your head, you realise it was indeed who you thought it was.
Quickly, you bid a quick goodbye to Hongjoong and make your way through the crowd, heading straight for the person, who seems to be stumbling around slightly.
Concern etched on your face, you approach him and ask, "Yunho, what on earth are you doing here?"
Yunho's expression is a mix of surprise and embarrassment as he struggles to regain his composure. "Uh… I’m not really sure," he admits, his voice tinged with nervousness.
You can’t help but feel a combination of amusement and warmth at his unexpected presence. Yunho, who usually exudes an air of composed intelligence, seems to be a bit out of his element in the party scene. Nonetheless, you appreciated the effort he made to be there.
"Are you okay?" You question, his anxious eyes dart around the crowded room, taking in the chaotic atmosphere of the party.
Yunho hesitates for a moment before admitting, "Would it be weird if I said I don't like it here?"
A warm smile graces your face, understanding his unease in this unfamiliar setting. Without hesitation, you reach out and gently grab his hand, your fingers interlocking boldly. Yunho is taken aback by the physical contact, feeling the warmth of your hand in his, and his heart flutters in response.
You lead him to a more secluded area of the house where the music is not as deafening, and the crowd is much thinner. The change of scenery provides a welcome respite from the overwhelming chaos of the main party area. Yunho can’t ignore the way your small hands feel in his large ones, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It is a simple gesture, but it makes him feel closer to you, dispelling some of his unease.
In the quieter, more secluded area of the house, you and Yunho find a temporary refuge from the bustling party.
"What are you really doing here?" you ask, curiosity in your eyes.
Yunho's expression shifts, and he admits, "Wooyoung dragged me here. I didn't really want to come, and I already don't like it." His eyes scan the room, taking in the scene around him.
For a moment, Yunho's gaze settles on you, and he notices your choice of attire, a short, form-fitting dress that accentuates your curves. It is a striking sight that leaves an indelible impression on him. His mind wanders to non-innocent places, etching the image of you in this dress into his memory. He can’t deny that you look stunning, and his thoughts momentarily venture into uncharted territory.
Although his initial discomfort at the party has faded, the sight of you in that dress stirs something within him, something he has only thought of late at night. It is an unexpected sight that leaves Yunho in a state of internal turmoil, struggling to keep his thoughts in check as he tries to focus on the conversation at hand.
The pulsating music and the chaotic atmosphere of the party seems to close in around you. Suddenly a thought crosses your mind, and you turn to Yunho, considering your options.
"Do you want to get out of here?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the party noise.
Your question snaps Yunho out of his thoughts, and he looks back up at you as if he had been caught taking in your form. His gaze meets yours, and for a brief moment, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. It is a rare sight, and it makes you feel even more connected to him.
It takes less than a second for Yunho to answer, "Yes."
Without further hesitation, he intertwines your fingers with his, and you both rush towards the exit of the house. Yunho's larger frame shields you from the reckless partiers who are going strong, ensuring you don't get caught in the chaos of the crowd. The touch of his hand is both reassuring and electrifying, and it feels like an unspoken agreement between the two of you; an escape from the madness into a more tranquil and intimate setting.
You are not sure how you ended up at Yunho’s apartment, yet you cannot quite complain. Since the study session at his house you have desired to be back at his, it was so comforting and peaceful in his house and you love it there.
"You can make yourself at home, I'm going to grab us some food," Yunho explains as he opens the door to his cosy apartment. He moves to grab his wallet from the coffee table, ready to head out to pick up the food.
However, as he attempts to pass you and make his way to the door, you stand in front of him, blocking his path. The look on your face reveals your disappointment, and it is clear that you don’t want him to leave so soon.
"Can we order it?" you ask, your voice filled with a longing for his company.
Yunho hesitates for a moment, weighing the options, but he ultimately replies, "It'll be quicker for me to get it now."
Despite his practical reasoning, you insisted, "Please stay with me Yunho."
Yunho can’t help but be touched by your plea. The vulnerability in your voice causes a flutter in his chest, and he is acutely aware of the genuine connection that has developed between you. He smiles and relents, realising that he doesn’t want to leave you either.
"Okay," he speaks softly, "I'll order it."
Your gratitude was evident in your eyes, and you knew you had made the right decision. Yunho's presence is something you cherished, and you are both beginning to understand just how much the other means to you.
You settle onto his couch, and soon enough the Chinese takeout that you had ordered arrives, the delightful aroma filling the room. It is a welcomed comfort that you both enjoy as you unwrap the containers and share the delicious meal.
You watch as Yunho picks a movie that he recommends, and you were intrigued to see his choice.
As you and Yunho start to watch the movie, you can’t help but feel a chill in the room. The soft glow from the TV illuminated your silhouette, the short dress you are wearing now seems impractical in the cosy setting.
Yunho, ever attentive, notices your discomfort and decides to speak up. "Are you cold?" he inquires, a hint of concern in his voice.
You hesitate for a moment but soon admit, "Yeah, a little."
Without further ado, Yunho offers a solution. "I have some warmer clothes you can borrow if you want. I could grab them for you."
His thoughtful gesture leaves you flustered, but you manage to stammer out a grateful "Yes, please." Your heart warms at the consideration he shows, and you appreciate his willingness to make you more comfortable.
Yunho quickly gets up and disappears into his bedroom. He returns with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, both of which were his own. His choice of clothing was deliberate, as he handed you his favourite hoodie. He has often wondered what you would look like wearing it, and now he has the perfect excuse to find out. The hoodie is warm and smells like him, making you feel closer to him in a way you hadn't anticipated.
Yunho can’t help but watch you with a warm smile as you accept the clothes. However, the smile quickly fades as he realises his mistake, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh, sorry," he quickly stutters out, chuckling nervously as he ruffles the back of his hair, "You can change in my bedroom."
You laugh gently at him, he is so cute.
“Thank you,” you smile before walking into his bedroom.
Entering Yunho's bedroom, you can’t help but take in the clean and organised space. His room is a testament to his meticulous nature, and you appreciate the attention to detail. But what truly catches your eye are the posters of various games adorning the walls. You admired the artwork and can’t help but think that they add a personal touch to the room.
Shaking off the distraction, you proceed to change into Yunho's clothes. The hoodie he has given you is larger than you expected, enveloping you in warmth and reaching down to your mid-thigh. The realisation of just how big Yunho begins to dawn on you.
His hoodie seems to swallow you in its comfort, and you can’t help but feel a little bit smaller. His physical presence is undeniable; he is taller than you, his shoulders are broad, and his hands are significantly larger than yours. The contrast is alluring, and you can’t deny that the thought of him towering over you, his sheer size and strength, stirs something within you.
You feel arousal pooling in between your legs, but you push aside the feeling, not sure if Yunho would feel the same way.
The hoodie is so long, you make a bold choice to not wear the sweatpants, seeing as the hoodie covers everything. Plus, there's no harm in seeing Yunho’s reaction.
You step out of the room, and Yunho is skimming between channels, trying to find a different movie to watch.
When Yunho hears your footsteps approaching the living room, he turns around to look at you, expecting to see you in his clothes. However, what he sees leaves his heart nearly stopping. There you stand, wearing nothing but his hoodie, your legs exposed and on full display.
Yunho's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows deeply, trying to suppress the flood of sensations and indecent thoughts that surge through his mind. His cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he is unable to tear his eyes away from you, his gaze inadvertently lingering on your enticing figure.
In this moment, he finds himself captivated by your beauty and the unexpected intimacy of the situation, struggling to maintain his composure. The sight of you in his hoodie was something he had never expected, and it sends his heart and mind into a whirlwind of emotions and desires.
"What's wrong?" you inquire, noticing the wide-eyed and bright red expression on Yunho's face as he gazes at you with an intensity you haven't seen before.
It is as if a switch has flipped in Yunho's mind, and suddenly, confidence takes over his being. You watch in amazement as he stands up from the couch and moves with a determined purpose towards you.
With each step, it is evident that he is almost out of breath, his chest heaving with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He stops in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. For a moment, you feel like you are the only person in the world for him, and the possessiveness in his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed.
Yunho's large hands land gently on your shoulders, and they slowly trail down to clasp yours. His touch is electrifying, and as he guides you backward, you soon find yourself pressed against the wall, pinned there by his presence. The air seems charged with an unspoken desire, and you can’t help but be captivated by this new side of Yunho.
Yunho murmurs your name, his voice thick with desire and uncertainty. He continues, "You can tell me to stop if you want..."
You don’t hesitate for a moment. In a hushed, eager tone, you reply, "Yunho, just kiss me for fuck's sake."
Yunho gently cups your cheek, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Leaning closer, his lips press against your cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they venture down toward your mouth. He pauses for a moment, watching you closely, his breath brushing across your face, sending shivers down your spine.
With careful consideration, he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, testing the waters, and eliciting a soft gasp from you. Feeling the tightening grip of your hand on his shirt, he gains the reassurance he needs to continue. Slowly, he deepens the kiss, his lips melding with yours, the softness and warmth sending a wave of astonishment through your body. His lips move against yours and all the feelings of the past few months pour into the kiss.
Yunho delicately probes his tongue into your mouth, you can’t help but respond. Your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt, and a surge of electric sensations course through your body, leaving you breathless and eager for more.
Yunho's kiss tastes like pure indulgence, a blend of desire and longing that leaves you yearning for more. The feeling is exquisite, and you can’t help but moan softly in response to the intensity of the moment.
His lips leave yours, trailing down your neck from the curve of your jaw. Soft gasps escape your lips as he explores the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he presses you harder against the wall, the heat of the kiss overcoming the two of you. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you instinctively threw your head back, granting him better access to your neck.
Yunho breaks away from the kiss, a hint of frustration in his eyes as he tosses his glasses aside, irritated by their intrusion. His dark and intense gaze is now fully revealed, making you realise the depth of his desire. Without delay, he reconnects your lips with a hungry passion that leaves you breathless.
His hands begin a journey down your waist, their touch igniting sparks of pleasure. With astonishing ease, he lifts you off your feet, his strength both surprising and exciting. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, and that is when you feel his hardness prodding you through your underwear. You suddenly feel extremely thankful for not wearing the sweatpants as he now has easier access to where you want him most.
Yunho carries you toward his bedroom with an air of urgency, his strides confident and determined. With a swift, well-placed kick, he sends the bedroom door wide open.
He gently sits on the edge of the mattress, you find yourself in his lap, the warmth of his body enveloping you. The world outside fades into insignificance, and you are left with a sense of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. The connection between you and Yunho grew stronger, and the intensity of the moment only heightened your desire for one another.
Yunho’s hands travel to your hips, where he kneads the flesh appreciatively. With a calculated move, he pushes you down onto himself, grinding you against his hardness. This causes the both of you to moan into the kiss, the both of you addicted to the sound.
“Yunho, please,” you mutter into the kiss, needing relief that you know Yunho will provide.
“What do you want, beautiful?” Yunho groans back against your lips when he feels you grinding yourself onto him.
“You.” you say with confidence, “always been you.” you declare and it has Yunho’s heart racing even faster in his chest.
Yunho realises the fun he can have in this situation, and he feels addicted to the control he has over you. You bury your face into Yunho’s neck, your embarrassment becoming apparent.
“How badly?” Yunho teases as he places long hot kisses on the side of your neck.
“Please Yunho, please.” usually you would feel humiliated, yet you have no time to feel any form of embarrassment, your desire is too strong.
With a swift yet tender movement, Yunho deftly flips the two of you over, your back now resting on the plush comfort of his bed. He settles between your open legs, the space between you filled with electrifying anticipation as the world around you blurred into obscurity.
“Since you’re such a good girl, I have to take care of you, don’t I?”
Yunho's transformation is nothing short of mesmerising. The once innocent aura that surrounded him has gone, replaced by a commanding presence that leaves your head spinning. It is as if he has unlocked a hidden side of himself, and the intensity of his actions and words leave you completely captivated and yearning for more.
With a gentle motion, Yunho pulls the hoodie off, revealing your bare chest to his hungry eyes. He takes in the sight of your naked top half and your panties and it is better than all the times he has imagined it. Your nipples immediately harden in the chilly air and you hastily rush to cover yourself.
“Do not,” Yunho's gentle yet commanding voice holds you in its sway, preventing you from covering yourself. He takes hold of your wrists, his words alone enough to convey his desire, and you obediently nod in agreement, unable to resist his irresistible influence.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers as he scans over your body.
Yunho begins to leave soft kisses across your collar bones, reaching your shoulders and neck as he simultaneously massages the flesh of your breast. He leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin, suckling and biting marks into your skin that only he gets to see.
Slowly, he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it, and biting the sensitive nub, an action that has you arching and moaning into his touch.
“You sound so beautiful moaning for me.” Yunho growls before moving to your other nipple and giving it the same attention, making sure to watch your every reaction.
In an agonising pace, Yunho trails his kisses down and you can almost feel yourself shaking from excitement as he nears where you need him the most.
You almost explode the second you feel Yunho’s mouth trailing along your thighs, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh.
Yunho chuckles darkly when he hears your excited gasps and moans, the sounds are like a beautiful melody to him, causing him to want more.
Yunho's sudden act of sitting up to remove his jumper catches your attention, and your eyes remain fixated on him. What you see beneath his clothes surprises you. His toned, well-defined upper body, his waist is slender, his shoulders are broad, giving him a somewhat hourglass-like figure. While he isn’t overly muscular, his physique was indeed a captivating sight. Chiselled abs adorn his stomach, and an irresistible desire wells up within you, compelling you to kiss every inch of his flawless skin.
Yunho's chest swells with pride as he observes your intense gaze on his body. He can hardly believe the turn of events and the desire he sees in your eyes.
Yunho smirks as your hands fumble towards his belt, desperately wanting his pants off.
"Patience, doll," Yunho asserts, his voice exuding confidence as he helps you remove his belt.
Left in only his boxers, you can see his length outlined through his black boxers and your breath is momentarily taken away. He is big, very big. You cannot help but let out a whimper of desperation as you look back up Yunho, who has a cocky grin on his features.
Leaning down, he starts placing light kisses on your stomach and thighs, getting close, but not quite close enough for your liking.
Instinctively, you run your fingers through his locks, trying to push him closer to where you need him. You hear Yunho chuckle at your eagerness, his heart racing knowing you want him as much as he wants you.
You watch Yunho’s every move, wanting to imprint every moment deep into your memory.
Yunho presses a gentle kiss against your clothed core, eliciting a soft mewl from your lips and Yunho hums in appreciation. You feel your whole body heat up in embarrassment as Yunho pulls your panties down, tossing them to the side of the room. You attempt to close your legs, feeling extremely exposed. Yunho feels himself losing self control as he looks at your soaking core, yet he tells himself to control his urges, wanting to make this last for much longer.
Yunho isn’t pleased with this and he lets out a growl as he speaks, “open those legs and let me see that pretty pussy.”
He grips your thighs, forcing them open and you can't help feel another rush of arousal course through you from his strength. It annoys you how slow he is, taking his time to get where you need him, he is too busy enjoying every small reaction, your desperation and eye fucking you, gauging every one of your gasps and twitches.
Yet the second his lips are on your core, the loud moan you let out is close to a scream and you feel him raviging you. His mouth works expertly against you, his tongue alternating between flicking your clit to lapping at your soaking hole has you seeing stars.
Your body squirms with pleasure under Yunho's skilled touch, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair as he eats you like you are his last meal.
“Yunho, please…” your voice is hoarse as you look down at him.
Yunho gazes up at you, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, making your thoughts hazy.
“Please what, pretty?” Yunho questions, yet as you are about to answer, he slips in one of his long fingers into your core. The second he feels your warm walls around him, he feels himself fighting the urge to destroy you right there and then. You jolt at the sensation, tears lining your eyes because of how desperate you are to be filled by him.
“Want you…need you…” you say, your voice shaky as you throw your head back against the pillow.
“Oh baby,” Yunho tuts, his voice almost condescending as he stares up at your fucked out state, “your pussy is so tight, I need to prep you before, don’t want you to get hurt.”
Yunho's words send another wave of desire coursing through your veins. The contrast between his stern tone and his evident care for your well-being leaves you feeling both dizzy and achingly needy.
“You don't want to get hurt, do you now?” Yunho questions, gently slapping your thigh to get your attention back on him.
“No, I don’t,” you exclaim, doing anything to please the man in front of you.
“Good girl,”
He's ruthless, entering another finger into your wet hole, his tongue alternating sucks and nips on your clit. With ease, he manages to find the spot inside you that sets fireworks through you and you feel the coil in your belly starting to tighten in pleasure.
"So fucking good, doll." He groans, his face pressed against your core has your cunt throbbing. “Can you even take my dick? I don’t want to hurt you when you’re being so good for me.”
You feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm, desperate to topple over the edge. All you need is a little encouragement, and you're extremely glad Yunho is so good at reading you.
“Let loose, baby. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.”
You let out a loud moan, almost a scream as your orgasm hits you and Yunho holds your shaking body down, licking your clit softly as you finish.
Before you can finish riding through your high, Yunho continues to kiss your pussy gently while adding a finger, the sudden stretch in your hole has you whining and writhing around from the sensitivity, his rough movements from his long fingers has you shaking even more. You beg for him to slow down and, thankfully he leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you twitch beneath him.
Before you can comment on anything, Yunho leans down and captures you in another heated kiss, and you moan when you can taste yourself on his lips, a new rush of arousal flooding through your body.
“Do you want to keep going? We can stop if you want to.” Yunho's voice, filled with concern, warms your heart, but you can't help the groan that escapes your lips.
"I’d love to continue," you rush on your words, your enthusiasm unabated. Chuckling at your eagerness, Yunho moves back slightly, running a hand through his hair as he gazes down at you, a mix of pride and desire evident in his eyes as he looks at your fucked out state.
“Wait shit, I don't know if i have a condom,” Yunho says, worried as he ruffles through his bedside table, not able to find any.
“Wait really?” you question, not even the slightest bit worried about him not having a condom, in fact you almost try to hide your excitement, “it’s okay.”
“What?”
“We don't need it, I'm on the pill.” You exclaim, pulling him by his hand closer to you, so he sits on the bed next to you.
Yunho is taken aback by your boldness, yet he finds it extremely hard to hide his excitement. The low groan that escapes his lips doesn't go unnoticed by you, further fueling the growing intensity of the moment. Yunho looks up at you, his eyes dark as he studies your face for any form of discomfort. When he doesn't see any, he almost moans at the thought of finishing inside of you.
“Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me.”
The second Yunho removes his boxers, your mouth is almost watering at the sight of his length. Not only is he long, but he is girthy, standing tall. Your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sight. You can feel your pussy throbbing at the thought of how well he is going to stretch you out.
“Like what you see?” Just like that, the caring Yunho is once again replaced with the cocky Yunho that you just love.
Instead of firing the bratty comment that is on the tip of your tongue, you simply nod your head, too overcome with the need for him to just destroy you.
Yunho leans over you again, spreading your legs wide to fit right between them, he takes his time rubbing up and down your slit, gathering your arousal to lube himself up. Your whines and whimpers are like music to his ears, and he doesn't know if he can ever get enough of you like this.
Lining up with your entrance, he takes his time to gently slide just the tip in, causing you to gasp lightly. Yunho buries his head into your neck, biting his lip as he attempts to maintain his composure. He knows he needs to take it slow in order to not hurt you, but the way you are clenching around him has his mind spinning with arousal.
He gets back up, his intense gaze watching your every expression as he eases himself in, going at a steady pace. The sting is definitely present and you squint at the light pain.
“Deep breaths, beautiful. You’re doing so well.”
You grab his toned arms as he pushes himself further in, his own breaths getting shallow as he feels your warm walls envelop his length.
‘Stay focused, Yunho,’ he thinks to himself, over and over, desperately trying to keep his composure, yet it proves more difficult by every passing second that your tight pussy sucks him in.
Pleasure surges through you but the only thing you are able to focus on is how full you feel. Your breath catches in your throat and you tense up as he gradually bottoms out, groaning, "So big."
“Yeah, does it feel good?” Yunho’s voice is raspy as he cages you in his arms, his eyes scanning your face.
“So good… please move.” is all you manage to say.
Yunho starts with some slow, teasing thrusts dragging his cock out before pushing it back in and it has you mewling out in pleasure.
“Fuck you’re so tight,” Yunho chokes out, his sanity practically gone as he feels your tight walls hugging his cock so nicely.
The beautiful sight of him on top of you, sweaty and lust ridden has you moaning and clenching around his cock. Wrapping your arms tightly around his strong back, your nails dig into his skin as he increases his pace.
"Does this feel good, pretty?"
You are only able to manage out a moan of approval, letting him know, yes, he is doing good. Yunho chuckles against your skin as you let out noises of pleasure, every one spurring him on and making him desperate to make you finish again. In a purposeful movement, Yunho leans his hips back slightly, so his cock is angled in a way where it hits your g spot perfectly with every thrust. Yunho knows he has found it the second your words and moan become a mixed blabbing mess, with this he smirks. He almost doesn't want to stop, he is having too much fun with you.
Yunho grunts as he starts thrusting even faster, his hand coming down to flick your clit, needing you to come on his cock. He needs you to finish before him.
You feel your orgasm approaching fast, and Yunho can tell by the way you clench and claw at his arms, pulling him down to lock him in a heated kiss, he swallows your moans and whimpers happily.
Yunho pulls away from your swollen lips to bury his face in your neck, whispering praise into your ear.
“Who is making you feel this good, doll?” he whispers in his deep voice, “do you want to cumm, pretty girl? Be a good girl and cum on my big dick, I know you want to.”
The coil in your belly tightens even more, your legs starting to shake around him as you moan out his name pathetically.
“That’s it, beautiful, milk my cock dry.”
“Need to cum,”
Yunho’s chest tightens at the desperate tone in your voice and for a moment, he knows he is definitely able to get used to your desperate whines.
“Go ahead, baby cum for me, let the whole neighbourhood know how good I’m making you feel.”
That's all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap, and your orgasm hits you hard. Intense pleasure ripples through you like tsunami waves, shaking your whole body and making your toes curl as your fingernails dig into his arms. The sensation overwhelms you as your world narrows down to the electrifying connection you share with Yunho.
Yunho follows in suit, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside of you, his choked swears and moans in your ear as he wraps his strong arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace as the two of you ride out your orgasms.
After a few moments of silence, the only sounds to be heard in the room are the deep inhales and exhales of you and Yunho, the two of you lost in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The intimacy lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a warm, comfortable blanket.
Yunho gently sits up, his arms shaky as he tries to regain his composure. A layer of sweat covers his face, and even in the low light of his room, you think he looks absolutely handsome. His dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks only add to his charm, and you can't help but admire him as he catches his breath.
Slowly, he pulls out, his seed spilling out of your swollen hole, a sight which has Yunho getting hard once again, yet he pushes the thoughts to the side and quickly rushes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth for you.
You can't help but feel a wave of insecurity and vulnerability as Yunho steps away to fetch the washcloth. The moment he disappears from your sight, a rush of unease washes over you, and tears begin to pool in your eyes. You never expected this level of intimacy, and now, seeing him leave even briefly, you fear he might be having second thoughts.
When he returns with the washcloth, he immediately notices the glistening tears in your eyes. Panic sets in, and he rushes to your side, cradling you in his arms.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Did I do something to upset you?"
You sniffle and shake your head. "I'm sorry. I thought you disappeared for good, and I got scared."
Yunho's expression softens as he caresses your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. "Oh, baby, I would never do that. I promise you, I'm here for you. I'm so sorry for putting that thought in your mind."
He holds you close, offering the warmth and comfort you desperately need, reassuring you that he's not going anywhere.
“Yunho?” You look towards Yunho, whose gaze is already set on you with an affectionate gaze. Tenderly, he pushes a stray hair behind your ear, and a sense of comfort washes over you.
Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, murmuring, "Yes, baby?"
Your heart flutters at the endearment as you continue, "What are we?"
Yunho raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a warm smile. He knew this question was coming, and he's more than prepared to answer. "Well, if you'll have me, I'd love to be your nerdy boyfriend."
A surge of happiness fills you, and you can't hold back your grin. "Only if you'll have me as your 'not so nerdy' girlfriend?"
Yunho chuckles and cups your face with his hands, sealing the moment with a sweet kiss. "Deal," he whispers against your lips, his arms wrapping even harder around you, securing you in a warm embrace.
“Let’s clean you up, pretty.”
—
“Sitting in Professor Turner's office, you're feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Yunho is right beside you, his presence giving you comfort and assurance. Professor Turner, the mentor you deeply respect, and her opinion matters greatly to you. You've been working tirelessly to improve your grades, and this is the moment of reckoning. To tell whether you are going to be expelled or not.
Professor Turner reviews your recent exam results, and you can't help but glance at Yunho. He's been your constant support, helping you study, explaining complex concepts, and motivating you to push your limits. There's a fond smile on his face, his warm eyes reflecting his pride in your accomplishments.
Finally, Professor Turner finishes her review and looks up at you with an encouraging smile. "I don't know how you did it, but your grades have not only improved, they have excelled. You are somehow one of the best in my class right now."
Your heart swells with pride as you realise the significance of her words. Tears fill your eyes and you feel the heavy weight that has been on your heart for months finally lift.
Yunho's proud smile widens, and the love in his eyes grows even more apparent. You feel a deep sense of accomplishment and happiness, knowing that with his help and your dedication, you've managed to exceed your own expectations and impress one of your most respected professors.
You look over at Yunho, gratitude shining in your eyes, and say,
"Well, I had an amazing tutor."
{i didnt proof read this, so if you see mistakes i apologise, im very tired}
#ateez smut#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#yunho#yunho smut#yunho ateez#yunho x reader#yunho au
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i'd crawl home to her
pairing: hades!geto suguru x persephone f!reader
word count: 10.8k
about: the god of the underworld brings his most valued prize home at the risk of tearing the realm itself apart.
contents: cw dark content - kidnapping, possessive leaning on yandere behavior, stockholm syndrome to a degree, lore accordant misogyny (ugh i know). this is a retelling of the hades and persephone myth, it is not exact to the prior iterations - creative liberties, etc. reader is quite naive but has her own personality and genuinely cares for suguru. piv sex, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, virginity loss. zeus gojo, hecate shoko. weird happy ending bc ofc this is something EYE wrote.
notes: i was personally asked to repost this and figured finishing the story and posting it full length would be the best way. this is the full and final version of what was formerly known as crawling. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy it.
floral divider is thanks to @/saradika
Earth’s sun rises with you, Suguru concludes on his fourteenth morning outside his bleak domicile.
Perched high above the meadow you tend every morning, the sun rising higher in the sky with every step you take across soft green grass, he watches. The backlight drenches you until you’re a mere silhouette, hard even for his superhuman vision to make out.
He doesn’t need the sunlight to do anything but glow across every curve and dip of you - his mind can easily paint the rest of the picture.
You live behind his eyes every time he closes them.
He luxuriates in the feeling of shutting them to imagine you while he’s in this form, something inhuman that may belong among your trees and your blossoms. Something unlike who he really is.
Opening his eyes as he hears branches creak beneath where he rests, he readies himself to swoop into the landing you are approaching.
Sighing with each step, the gentle sweep of the hem of your dress across your feet tethers you back to your reality. The grass tickles the bottoms of your bare feet and you squint as you peer into the distance ahead, unable to make out more than vague shapes of flora.
A golden cage with crawling vines along the bars is still a cage, one to which your mother holds the only key. You are reminded of this impenetrable truth with every muffled step that grows quicker as you notice something in your clearing.
A bird, larger than any you’ve ever seen, rests atop the grass with its wing twisted at an unnatural angle. The sight makes you gasp and you begin to sprint, filled with concern. The dryads haven’t yet arrived to tend the meadow with you - you’re alone.
You’re unprotected.
You’re his.
A pathetic caw leaves the large bird’s beak as you approach. The sound is strangled and makes your heart squeeze, mind immediately reeling imagining the suffering this animal must be going through.
Despite being kept under lock and key, this meadow is your domain and nothing will hurt as long as you are here. You vowed long ago to make this so.
You sink to your knees beside the bird. Suguru sees the tips of your fingers before he sees anything else, the beady eyes of the body he’s inhabiting keeping him from taking in too much of you at once.
“You poor thing,” you speak without a trace of irony or false sympathy. Your voice is more beautiful than any melody he has overheard the dryads cast into the sky and relief washes over him as the sound. “What’s happened to you?”
He caws again, the sound stronger this time and you smile. Perhaps he’s feeling better, you ponder as his shift away from you and shut. His soul shutters with anticipation as you lean over him.
This bird is unlike any wildlife you’ve ever tended to in your lands, large and inky in color. You are more accustomed to robins or the occasional duck, things as gentle as the life you lead. Ducks don’t even have claws, Suguru thinks as you stroke a pattern across his beak with your index finger, suddenly too aware of his own talons in this form.
Those same talons twitch and you frown, moving from his beak to gently petting his head.
“Are you in any pain?”
The concern you hold for Suguru makes him feel a bit hazy, your mind too precious and concerned with helping him to notice the rapidly browning grass surrounding the two of you.
He eventually kills everything he touches, smothering the light out of every last brightened corner in his life. It makes him feel guilty knowing you’ll just be one more light to extinguish but he can’t allow this to continue.
This want he has for you - the need growing into a pit as endless as the one he alone casts souls into.
You are his.
A soft gasp leaves you as the once injured wing of the bird you sit next to appears to be healed untouched. No longer bent and dangling, the strength returning as the bird lifts his head. Fear paralyzes you when you recognize something distinctly human in the darkened eyes that glance up in your direction.
This is no bird of your lands.
Adrenaline rushes but you stay, watching the bird twitch as he begins to transform into something inexplicable before your eyes. Feathers give way to hair, a beak to a face. You draw your fingers back as wings become hands but they’re captured quickly between cool fingers much larger than yours.
Fear blankets your mind and you gape at Suguru as he transforms into a man - nude, bare to the sunlight. You can make out every defined plane muscle and scar, the sight as terrifying as it is alluring. You know all too well who has trapped you between his talons.
“Why are you here?”
Despite the terror in your widened eyes, desire flickers within them. Suguru notices you do not flinch or stray as he reaches out and caresses your jaw with his fingertips in the same pattern you were gently etching across his beak.
“For you.”
Almost as if you are no longer in control of your own body, you melt into his touch and your eyes grow heavy. His large palm cups your cheek and he gently pinches the soft round between his index finger and thumb.
He wishes you’d come willingly but he can’t be certain and will not leave room for error.
Your eyes flutter shut gently, your body slackening as the magic he used to coerce you to sleep takes hold. Bundling you against his bare chest, a victorious smile crosses his handsome features.
You are his, wrapped in his embrace, and he holds you as delicately as a fragile newborn as the ground shakes beneath the two of you.
“Let’s return home,” he mutters down at you knowing there will be no response. Your breathing is steady, little puffs of air leaving your barely open lips. He presses his palm against your cheek, your throat, your chest.
He resists the urge to map you out knowing he’ll have plenty of time to do so as soon as the two of you have settled in the underworld.
The God above answered when your mother cried out to the heavens and Earth herself the first evening you did not return to your mother.
Your routine has been the same for many of your living years - trudging back to your family estate with muddy feet and eyes you have to force open to stay awake through the evening meal you used to share with her. Days spent beneath the sun turning to evenings withering beneath another light altogether.
Satoru set his cerulean gaze on the lands below, the verdant rolling hills of Demeter's domain, and he knew without a second thought the encroacher who had been there. Brown grass in the shape of footprints led straight to your clearing - where he knew Suguru trapped you.
His need had become insatiable, a fear they’d all kept to themselves for far too long.
Lounging across an ornate chaise in the social room of Demeter’s estate, Satoru eyes her home carefully. Everything here is so polished, so prim. It’s a wonder she has ever let you get your hands dirty at all, her little blossom ripe to be plucked straight from her stem.
“Go to him,” Demeter begs the god with teary eyes, his snowy hair framing his unnervingly handsome face. “Please make him return her to me.”
Satoru chuckles and lifts a chalice to his lips, the two legged land nymphs and servants that also serve the woman across from him tittering anxiously. They’re lucky to be witnessing the handsome god in front of them, they’ve all remarked several times over. He sips and lets the taste of the richest wine this world has to offer drench his taste buds before smacking his lips appreciatively.
A lazy grin crosses his features which infuriates your mother.
“You know I can’t do that, Demeter,” he holds the chalice out to the waiting hands of a servant who graciously accepts with a measured smile. “I’m as unwelcome in his domain as he is in mine.”
Suguru simultaneously watches the conversation through a looking glass hanging on the wall of his quarters and you as you sleep, an enchanted rest he created with a spell he has not yet decided when to break.
This transition will be easier for you if you rest, he decided when he concocted the plan to bring you here in the first place. He rips his gaze away from the glass before him and wistfully gazes at your little form. Your soft breaths, your little hums and yawns. The way you shift against him when he joins you at your side, looking for warmth he cannot give.
He balls his fists and returns to his watching.
“He kidnapped my daughter!” Your mother shouts, back of her hand pressed to her forehead as an unimpressed Satoru raises his brow unenthusiastically. “Do you have proof?”
Suguru can’t help but smirk, shaking his head at his old friend. He wishes things could’ve been different between them but Satoru belonged amongst the clouds, a god and friend to all. He finds himself exactly where he belongs - in the darkness below, the unknown depths at which mortal life ends and everything else begins.
His attention shifts as you do in his bed, little mutters spilling from your lips in a rapid enough pace he grows concerned and stands over the edge. His hair is so long it nearly graces the edge of the bundled blankets below him and he listens to your soft voice intently, as if nothing else matters. As if he weren’t just eavesdropping a mother’s desperate plea for the safe return of her child.
“Where am I?”
Suguru believes he can make out the words spilling from your lips and your eyes flutter open. He sinks to his knees beside you, a large hand cupping your cheek. He cannot tell if you are unafraid or just too unaware to shrink at his touch. I’ll take my chances, he thinks as he grabs your other hand with his free one.
“You’re home and safe, my treasure.”
Looking around the dimly lit room, your brow furrows and he softens at the sight. You delight him, in your soft and beautiful glory, and he wants you so badly it’s going to consume him. It already has.
Nodding at his words, your eyes begin to focus and you feel hands upon you. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been sleeping, it could be hours or months, but you feel rested and whole. Your fingers do not hurt nor are they blistered, your feet are warm and dry.
“Are you…him?”
You ask and Suguru leans further onto the bed until his chest is pressed against the blankets, his face resting against the bundle of them directly over your stomach and chest. He shakes his head gently, still cupping your face. He uses his hold to point your chin downward so that your eyes meet his.
“Who?”
A gentle sigh escapes you and you lean into his touch, head heavy with fatigue. You are still not completely aware of your surroundings but you can think back to the times as a child your mother warned you of a man who offered nothing but darkness.
“You are the light of this world, my child.” She would warn you as you sat upon her lap and let her brush and manipulate her hair into the style she liked best. “Don’t ever let darkness consume you. Do not let him reach you.”
You giggle softly and your sleepy gaze dances over the handsome face of the man next to you. Angular and sharp, yet something distinctly and indescribably boyish lives inside of his eyes. Perhaps it's an internal softness, a fondness for you, turning outward.
“The God of the Underworld,” you whisper and he feels your palm pressed against his where he holds your other hand. “You’re Suguru, aren’t you?”
For a moment, he wonders how far a lie could take him. He could keep you here in his quarters forever, never revealing himself as anything more than a concerned traveler that found you passed out in the meadow. He could lie. He could transform himself again just to eliminate all risk of you leaving.
He could chain you to the bed. He could keep you here, never to let the sun’s rays grace your skin again. He could pluck those beautiful butterfly wings straight from your soul and cage you.
Instead he shakes his head and offers a small smile.
“You’re right, it’s me.”
You laugh again, still groggy and he wonders silently what you find so funny until he hears the raised voice of your mother from the screen behind him once more.
“How could you even insinuate my daughter would leave with a beast like that?” She shouts, snotty sniffles punctuating her words. “A man so vile you cast him out yourself, Satoru, and yet you allow the most delicate thing on this planet to be sullied by his hand.”
Suguru shakes his head and turns his attention back to you, watching as you glance across the room to make sense of your surroundings. How are you so trusting?
“It’s a little dark here.”
He nods, eyeing the sconces on the walls for a moment before saying a name you can’t quite make out in your state. A servant enters the room and he asks that they turn a small knob on each of the fixtures and they do so with a nod, exiting as quickly as they entered the room. The light is still far dimmer than the sunlight you are used to but it helps you further examine the features of the man next to you.
“Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes flutter shut again, the magic taking its hold over you as Suguru grasps your hand tightly between his. He needs to break the spell completely but he will let you rest, he reasons as you gently fall back into a deep sleep. It pains him to break contact with you, letting go of your hand but keeping your cheek cupped in his palm until he feels satisfied.
Your mother continues to shout behind him. His interest is only piqued when Satoru speaks, turning his head to glance over his shoulder.
“I will see if I can speak with him, Demeter. You rest until then. Looks like you need it.”
Suguru freezes in place, wondering exactly what his old friend has planned. Perhaps it’s a deterrent from further outbursts from the goddess screeching at him. Reluctantly, he lets you go and rises to his feet and rushes toward the door where one of his most trusted servants is posted outside.
Pulling the door open, he peaks around the corner and the woman in waiting gazes at him expectantly.
“Yes, my lord?”
Suguru offers a measured glance, dark hair falling over his shoulder as he leans.
“Please prepare a raven, I have a letter to send.”
Things have been tense since your arrival and Demeter's angry cry to the other gods for your return. Even the lowest of his servants feels strange seeing a sunbeam trailing through the corridors, each of them surprised at how easily you seem to have taken to the human embodiment of darkness itself, although they’d never speak the thought aloud. It’s as if you’re hiding your fear of him, no alarm despite the fact he eyes you hungrily every time your back is turned.
“My lord?”
The unlucky servant currently standing in his proximity knew the look as soon as he saw it, glancing at the back of your head as if he could look directly through your skull and into your thoughts. The only wish of the God of the Underworld would be to find himself in your thoughts as you are in his.
Despite how easily he loses himself in observing you, Suguru’s brows raise as he shifts his attention from where you gather your skirt in your hands, carefully appraising his estate to the servant approaching him gingerly. Their posture is slumped with anxiety, shoulders rounded forward.
“You have a visitor.”
Raised brows furrow, the skin between pinching. Folding his arms over his chest, the god lets a sigh he’s unable to stifle escape and turns his back to you reluctantly. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s just that he would rather not leave any of this up to chance. He risked so much bringing you here - why would he leave anything up to chance when fate has deemed it so that you are to be together?
Glancing over his shoulder to where you stand, still curiously staring at the vines that crawl along the columns that make up the structure of the property. The sidelong glance shows him that you are still within an arm's reach and he turns his attention toward the servant.
“Who is it?”
The servant shakes their head and the pinched skin between his eyebrows further puckers as a frown crawls across his features. The words don’t have his usual bite, despite the frustration on his face, and the servant feels as though they can speak until they see you turn toward Geto’s back from over his shoulder.
“Excuse me, Lord Geto?”
Suguru’s attention is pulled away immediately when he hears your voice from a few feet away, your hands grazing the petals of flowers growing despite this unnatural habitat. The ground is dark and cold, no light to warm the soil, yet yellow daffodils spring through the near black dirt.
“What is it, my treasure?”
In an instant he is by your side, gazing down at the yellow petals that dot the otherwise dark ground. The servants hadn’t mentioned to him that flowers were beginning to bloom again, instead he noticed it now, watching you bend at the waist to grasp delicate yellow petals between your thumb and index finger.
“Have these always grown here?” Nodding his head at your question, his long hair fans against his chest and you gaze up at him through your lashes curiously. “Yes but it has been a long time since they’ve bloomed.”
Despite knowing he took you against your will, it’s difficult for you to find contempt for the man given how kindly he has treated you. He has given you a space to call your own and expects only your companionship in return. No tilling fields, no guarding the dryads, simply being allowed to exist for the first time in your life without paying a toll to do so.
This is a stark contrast to the life you were plucked from - working sunrise to sunset to appease your unappeasable mother.
If you miss your home, you haven’t told him so yet. The thought has crossed his mind that you are only playing to his sensibilities, trying to outsmart an old god with your clever youthful ways, but he sees the genuine warmth in your smile when it appears. Aimed at servants, even the damned begging for his forgiveness, your compassionate nature shines through.
Despite the fact this is not a place meant for one as beautiful as you, he only hopes there will come a time when you his home as a place the two of you are meant to share. The way you eye the daffodils only allows hope to grow inside of him, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you as you pluck the yellow flower from its stem and hold it in his direction with an uncertain smile.
“You won’t be able to keep her here for much longer, Suguru.”
Another voice draws his attention from you and he clenches his jaw, molars grinding together so roughly the joints begin to ache. Shoko, he thinks. Fuck. You stand and gasp, recognizing the woman yourself although you cannot begin to fathom what this visit could mean for you.
“Good to see you, old friend.” The Goddess of Magic pats his shoulder as she breezes past him to your side, chocolate colored hair parted to expose her face.
You can recall seeing it numerous times throughout your childhood, attending feasts at your mothers’ home on more than one occasion. She’s as beautiful as she is powerful and you can hardly hide your confusion wondering why she would be here, extending a hand in your direction.
Suguru looms from over your other shoulder, eyes practically blazing as he looks toward the scene unfolding in front of him. She’d come to take you and he simply would not allow it, stepping closer until he stands directly behind you and braces a hand on your shoulder.
“What business do you have here, Shoko?”
She laughs at his informality and shakes her head, grasping your hand for a moment before dropping it. Looking between them, you swallow thickly and she sighs watching your eyes immediately look upward at Suguru, looking for answers.
He looks back down at you in the way one may view a treasured pet. She realizes in that moment, as Satoru had warned her, his obsession had won and disrupted the careful balance of the heavens.
“My business is currently gazing up at you as if she’s afraid to look away, my lord.”
The words strike you between the ribs and you quickly avert your gaze, fixing it on the single flower in your hand. Anger practically pours off of Suguru as he looks over his shoulder at the servant still waiting and nods them over to where the three of you stand.
“Please return her to her quarters,” he commands and you scoff in protest. Eyes wide, you feel him gently push you in the direction of the servant. Without thinking, you press your heels into the ground you stand on and turn to face him.
“I believe I should be present to find out my own fate.”
The servant gasps bearing witness to your first act of defiance since your arrival. You wait for a flash of anger to cross the Lord of the Underworld’s face but it never comes, a fond smile the sight you see instead.
“Your fate has already been decided.” The finality in his tone makes you feel captured, mirroring the emotions that swirled through your mind on the day he took you. “You needn’t worry about all of this.”
Lifting his hand from your shoulder, he pets your hair gently before giving you another gentle push in the direction of the waiting servant. This time, you are too stunned to argue and you’re whisked away in an instant. Left only to glance over your shoulder at him, you feel hot tears spill out of the corners of your eyes but you find it difficult to explain why.
Geto’s gaze follows you until you are back inside of the estate and out of his view completely, the goddess staring at him expectantly in a means to end his lovesick antics. It’s beneath him to act like this, as if he’s a parched man and you are a cool stream.
“Are you aware that her mother is prepared to tip the realms upside down if it means she’ll be returned?”
Shoko doesn’t bother to hide the judgment dripping from every word and he rolls his eyes in response, arms folded over his chest. It’s always a treat to see her longtime friend act as if he were young again, petulantly sulking because his favorite toy needs to be put back in her box.
“Let her return, Suguru.”
He says nothing, his friend turning to him with an unimpressed glance.
“No young goddess is worth war. I assumed you would’ve figured that out by now.”
He decided long ago that you are worth ripping this realm apart for.
Weeks have passed since the last time you graced Suguru with your presence.
Shoko's visit created unexpected tension between the two of you and he wonders what he could have done to upset you enough that you have completely frozen him out while he takes long strides through the courtyard, eyes falling to the ground below him to see once blooming yellow flowers droop sadly.
They need you just as badly as he does.
"Please call for her again," he mutters to the servant that walks with their head pointed downward to his left. "Explain that is an order and no longer an invitation."
Suguru's discerning gaze doesn't leave the ground but he hears the footfalls that tell him his orders will be fulfilled without question, as expected.
Upon bringing you here, he decided he'd use the gentle approach with you. No reprimand, no demands, just gentle redirection and letting you come out of your shell at your own pace. Those first few weeks were blissful, you'd wait outside his chamber door until he arose to walk along the grounds with you. You refused to touch him, uncertain of where boundaries lie, but you remained curious enough that occasionally your arm would brush against his.
He'd have to claim other duties needed attending to get away from the near suffocating rush of blood from his head to his cock, length stiff and uncomfortable beneath his robes.
Part of him misses that feeling, the rush and flutter of what he has justified in his own mind as love. It certainly must be, he reasons, given the way he has miserably through his own kingdom for weeks while you've refused meals and visitors. Even damning has become uninteresting without the promise of the sun's radiant light across his face once the dirty work is done. You are his sun, his world, his everything.
Why don't you feel the same about him?
A sickening feeling settles in his gut as he wonders if you are communicating with your mother behind his back. Perhaps Shoko's visit brought you the means to do so, a plan to run and hide and stay away. His fist clenches at the thought and he clears his throat, an uncomfortable thickness coating his tongue. That is a possibility he will not, cannot, allow.
Footfalls draw his attention upward and he notices you walking alongside the servant he sent to fetch you. The look on your face is unreadable, you think, but he plucks you out like a ripe little pomegranate with little effort.
You're throwing a fit as a young goddess does. You're old enough to know better, an adult, but young enough not to care and looking the Lord of the Underworld in his face with a pout makes a feline smile spread across his face.
He's so handsome you almost stop in your tracks but you choose to avert your gaze instead, pretending dying vegetation has captured your attention for the first time in days. Suguru chuckles at your insolence, the dangerous man as unintimidated as one can be.
"She rises," he says flatly and he can almost see your shoulders deflate as you continue to refuse to meet his eyes. "Come, come. Let's discuss what's bothering you."
The servant leads you to his side before being dismissed with a wag of his head and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye.
He's everything you remembered seeing a few weeks ago but you cannot shake the way that his dismissal on the day of your goddess visitor upset you. You believed he saw you as more than a pawn, a person rather than a vague outline for his own desires, but you began to question his intentions that day and have ever since.
"Are you happy here?"
The question makes you turn your face toward him, pout falling. Never in your life have you been asked to consider your own happiness.
In your realm, your happiness is directly tied to how happy you make your mother. How hard you work, how harmonious your meadows are, how productive you can be. You struggle to recall the last time anyone besides the dryad, who you technically had and have dominion over, bothered to ask you about yourself.
The act leaves you speechless, his face pointed downward in your direction. You dare to glance up at him and the elegant slope of his nose, his dark eyes narrowed but radiating a warmth you never imagined a man enshrouded in such darkness down to the cape of hair caressing his shoulders would be capable of.
Moving closer to him, you let your arm brush against the sleeve of his robe and he attempts to keep his face stoic despite the sheer gift of your touch. He must keep his cards close to his chest in case you've found a way out - he cannot afford to spare any vulnerability.
"I think that I could be, my lord."
You're choosing your words carefully and he knows it. He watches as you swallow and your face twists, bottom lip quivering. Despite his better judgement he reaches out for you, cupping your soft cheeks between his cool hands. You don't attempt to dodge him or stray, meeting his eyes.
"If I wanted to be forced to meet demands, though, I would have already returned home."
He knows all too well the demands of which you speak, his years spent watching you from below giving him knowledge of the fact you've never been happy locked away while your mother holds the key to your freedom.
"I understand," he starts, dropping his grip on your face and bringing his hands to his sides. It's not that he does not wish to give you the freedom you desire, it's that he cannot do so and please his own desires as well. "Do you wish to return home?"
He asks and you shake your head quickly, firm in your decision to remain here despite things feeling uneasy with Suguru. Locking yourself in your room and spending all of your time alone is better than what awaits you above, the wrath of your mother promising you'll be working in the fields for the rest of your life.
"Lady Shoko promised me safe passage if I wanted to return but I would prefer to stay here if you will allow it."
That smile crosses his face once again and you can't help but mirror it, cheeks heating knowing it's meant for you. In the time the two of you have spent together you can't seem to recall a single time you've seen him smile, much less like that, at anyone else and it sends a swarm of butterflies drifting through your stomach and chest.
"Of course, my treasure," he reaches up to cup your face once again and you gingerly lean into the kind touch, cheek rubbing against the heel of his palm. "As I've told you, this is your home."
Your home. Not his domain, not a place he's graciously allowing you to take residence until he decides his plans for you.
Nodding between his hands, you offer a smile of your own that fades as his face suddenly turns serious.
"This is your home but all homes have rules," he reminds and you nod, eyes wide. His rules cannot be any more confining than the ones you previously dwelled under.
"You are not to contact Lady Shoko without informing me first, understood?"
Uncertainty dances across your face and he tightens his grip on your cheeks for a moment, dipping his head so that your noses nearly touch.
"It's for your safety only," he comforts, spurred on by the way your posture has tensed as you consider what he's saying. "We cannot trust she won't inform your mother and she won't drag you back with her by your hair."
Doubt falls away from your face at mention of your mother and it takes all of his willpower to keep himself from smirking at how quickly you give in at the mere mention of what you left in the first place. Nodding, you accept his words without question and he's reminded of why he's so terribly fond of you in the first place.
"I understand," you mutter, mirroring his previous words to you and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk as he dips his head low enough that your noses do touch this time, the tip of his brushing gently against yours.
"I'll pay any cost to keep you safe and that's why I had you sent away during my conversation with Lady Shoko," he apologizes and you believe he's earnest given the way he looks down through heavily lidded and lashed eyes. "I won't make that mistake again. You do deserve to decide your own fate."
He keeps the fact your fate has long been decided to himself, the illusion of choice more important than actually having choice itself. You smile sweetly, nodding between his palms, making your noses brush once again.
"Thank you, Lord Geto."
He shakes his head, backing away from you. The smile on your face dims with the loss of him so close and you send a message to your fingertips to stay at your side - you haven't been given permission to touch him as badly as you want to.
It's isn't the first time you've considered how he'd feel between your palms. Would he be cool to the touch, as his own hands are? Would he let you explore each divot and crease of his body, your eyes roving and your imagination doing the same? Would he allow you to kiss him, lips brushing against lips, noses brushing once again?
Heat you feel fearful of blooms in your gut and you look away, cheeks warm. You hope he can't tell what you're thinking as you wait for him to respond.
"Suguru," he corrects. "I'm always Suguru to you."
He swears he sees the yellow daffodils at his feet spring to life with the warmth of your gaze when you avert your eyes from him to the ground, girlish embarrassment keeping you from looking a god in the eye. Chuckling, he reaches for you again and pulls your face toward him, pressing his cool lips against your forehead.
You gasp and he drops his hand, squeezing yours that lies at your side before turning to leave but not before tossing another glance in your direction over his shoulder.
"Let's do this again soon. I've missed it terribly."
You nod a response, too shaken to speak.
"What do you bring before me?"
Suguru never looks more grand than when he sits on this throne of bone, the picture of repose with his legs spread wide enough that his robes fall between them. His arms rest on either side of the chair, generally, but right now he rests his chin between the thumb and finger of one hand watching while his servants bring forth another soul for his judgement.
You watch from your own spot in the crowd, flanked by guards, simultaneously curious and horrified at how easy this is for him. He is judgement and you simply get to witness the process of life created above being squandered down below due to its own misdeeds.
He has been doing it for a long, long time, you remind yourself if only to quell the way your stomach turns as he denies another lost soul passage.
The job he's performing isn't entirely unlike yours - the ability to bring forth life, even if it is just simple vegetation and flora, a gift you were born with. Flowers bloom where you walk, trees grow leaves to shield you from the sun. You're the sole reason little yellow daffodils have once again sprung up across the grounds, the servants marveling at life dwelling the halls of the otherwise dismal realm.
"My lady?"
Your eyes flit from where the man you are so enraptured by sits to your left, one of his servants kneeling at your side. You greet them with a smile and they shrink slightly, uncertain of how to react to the unweighted offering. A smile means something down here and usually it isn't anything good, a lesson you haven't yet had to learn given the way the Lord of the Underworld reciprocates the sunny glances you give him.
"Lord Geto has asked that you join him in his chambers momentarily."
That isn't what you were expecting to be told and it must show on your face, smile falling into a small "o" shape as you look down at your unimpressive robes. You took care to look nice today, of course, but you don't feel as though you should appear before him looking like this.
"I'll escort you," the servant offers and you nod, still uncertain of what will be happening behind the heavy, closed doors when he has you alone.
The two of you haven't truly been alone until this point. There's always a servant, a courier, a guest. You aren't sure one can ever be truly alone in a place like this that dwells with the damned but you rise to your feet anyway, bowing your head as you walk through the crowd and toward the corridor that leads to your destination.
His chambers are empty when you arrive but you are ushered through the doors anyway, jumping as they shut with a heavy slam behind you.
Just like that, you are left to your own devices.
The already cavernous space seems even larger when you're standing in it, eyes darting from the walls to the ceiling to the bed itself. You remember, vaguely, spending time there. You can almost recall the way the linens felt against your skin, cool and comforting. You know he touched you then, held your hands and your whimpering form if you'd wake up in the night disoriented and fearful.
It couldn't have been more than months ago but it feels like a lifetime, you're a different woman than you were the first time you rested beneath those sheets but you will always remember his kindness.
Gingerly, you step out of your spot and begin to pace around the room with your hands clasped behind your back. Your footsteps fade into background noise as you look around and wonder when he will join you, still feeling anxious about why he called you there in the first place.
Part of you hopes he will finally kiss you in the privacy of his chambers. That he'll finally do what you've felt he's on the precipice of doing for weeks, gentle brushes of your hand and his body against yours sending you reeling and running back to your own quarters to catch your breath.
Without noticing, your fingers flit to your lower lip and you rub it gently, imagining what it would be like to be kissed by a man for the first time. This is no mere man, though, this is a god.
You want to be kissed by a god.
Giddiness makes you giggle to yourself, your fingertips still rubbing an idle pattern across your lower lip as the door opens behind you. Dropping your hands to your sides, you turn toward the open doors with a smile as Suguru steps into the room.
He smiles at the sight of you too and your palms bead with sweat as he approaches you, towering a head above your own and tilts his head to the side.
"Do you remember the last time you were in here?"
Despite recalling the fuzzy outlines of what occurred during the weeks you were too tired to move just moments ago, you shake your head. You'd like to hear own retelling of the events if he'd be generous enough give it to you. He chuckles and brings his hands to your biceps, holding them gently.
"You slept for weeks," he reminds, smile still spread across his features. You don't have to know his own magic is the reason that you slept and he has no intention of informing you of such. "I sat by the bed and kept watch, I wanted to make sure personally no harm would come to you."
It's romantic, you think, the way that he cares for me.
It can't simply be the thrill of being away from home any longer that makes your stomach flutter in his presence. It isn't the forbidden fun of doing something you know your mother would hate, frolicking in a realm that doesn't belong to her at the side of a man with more power than you can imagine.
You are feeling something dangerously real and it emboldens you to bend your arms upward and grasp his wrists in your palms. His smile dims into a sultry smirk and you return it with a moon-eyed look of your own.
"I wish I remembered more about it," you mumble. His hands slide from your arms toward your face and he gently rests them on either side of your neck, thumbs resting on the delicate column of your throat.
"We have plenty of time to make memories you do remember in here," he offers and you giggle nervously. "That's not why I asked you here, though."
Your smile dims as you look at him curiously, hands still wrapped around his wrists. His smirk falls and his face becomes unreadable, eyes darkening.
"Do you believe me a monster after witnessing my work?"
Those words aren't what you were expecting to hear following his prior ones but you shake your head with urgency, tightening your hold on his wrists.
"Of course not, Suguru," you let his name slip past your lips and he squeezes the sides of your neck in response. Your eyes flutter and you stutter. "W-we all have jobs we must do even if they're ugly."
He nods once.
"I knew you'd understand."
Nothing further is elaborated but you don't mind, basking in his praise of you while watching him carefully. You look over his lips, his cheekbones, his dark eyebrows that seem knit together in concern.
"Is something the matter?"
Your voice is delicate when you ask, sweet a spring breeze it has been far too long he's felt caress his skin, and he chuckles darkly.
"I've been called away to meet with your mother and Lord Gojo."
Frozen, your eyes widen and he moves to soothe you, pulling you into his chest and pressing your cheek against his robes. Your arms fall to your sides but you move to wrap them around his waist instead, burying your face and inhaling the sharp, clean scent of him.
He smells nothing like the death you've experienced in the meadows, a bird or a faun, at times an unfortunate wanderer. He carries none of the smell of decay or ruin. Not of the rot of dead flowers, earthy and pungent enough you have to turn your head away to clear your nostrils.
Just clean, simple, pure. You inhale and savor.
"They haven't asked that you accompany me and I am making no plans to bring you."
This should concern her, he thinks. Your fate is once again being decided without your presence but you don't seem nearly as offended this time as you were the last.
"I'd rather stay here, if that's alright," you mumble against his chest and he squeezes you. This is the answer he desired, perhaps even expected, but it delights him. You made it there on your own without any gentle direction.
"Of course it is," his big hands rub your back as he soothes you. "I'll ensure you're taken care of while I'm away. You will want for nothing, I promise."
His assurances settle in your chest warmly and you unbury your face from his robes, looking up. Without thinking, you crane your neck as long as it will stretch and stand on your tip toes, pressing your lips against his chastely.
The last thing he expected was for you to be this bold but he presses his lips against yours in return nevertheless. The kiss is merely a peck, a rubbing of skin on skin instead of the tongue and teeth and saliva he'd love to share with you, but it's a message. Return home safe dances across his lips sure as your soft skin grazes them and he misses the feeling as soon as you step down, feet flat on the ground below.
Smiling down at you, he presses his lips against your forehead the same way he always does when he's about to take his leave and you deflate almost visibly knowing this means the two of you will be separated for an unknown amount of time.
"No harm will come to you nor will any decision be made without you present, understand?"
He's making a promise he can't keep yet you nod, eyes searching his face for any inkling of what could be coming.
"I must go immediately but I will return to you as soon as I'm able."
You sigh, the sound light as air, and he chuckles despite himself. Holding you for a moment longer, he kisses your forehead one final time before creating space between the two of you. You watch him head toward the door with a frown, lips still tingling with the touch of a god.
"You can stay here until I return," he mentions breezily as if the two of you are discussing meal plans and not the potential of violence that awaits him in the earthen realm. "These quarters are your own now."
You nod, looking around.
"I'll see you soon."
He exits the doors in a rush, muttering under his breath while shutting them tightly behind him. The small army he has requested to flank the doors while he's gone approaches him, standing at rest while they await their orders.
"She is not to leave this room except to take meals or explore the grounds. At least four of you must remain with her at all times."
The guards nod in unison at his orders knowing their options are obey or die and you stand blissfully unaware on the other side of the door of the fact you've just been locked into a cell until he can figure out how to keep you here permanently.
"We can't keep going this long between seeing one another, Suguru."
Geto hums unenthusiastically, stomping through the entry of your mother's sprawling estate while Lord Gojo joins him at his side, jovially sipping from the same chalice that has remained full for his entire stay on the grounds. He's certain the nymphs utterly dote on his old friend, tittering over his pretty eyes and hair, the same way everyone does.
"If it were up to me we would not meet at all, Satoru, but I appreciate your warm welcome."
Gojo clutches his chest with his free hand and cackles, tipping his head back as he matches Geto's pace with ease. The sunlight that pours into the open marble halls burns the darkened eyes of the man who was summoned here for no reason other than to be threatened and he finds his patience thinning with every word he is being forced to listen to.
"You wound me, old friend. Have you forgotten how much fun we used to have?"
Suguru snorts.
"Unfortunately, no."
They did have fun at one point in time before a war and their responsibilities turned a friendship into something uneasy - a constant power play between the man gifted with the divine dominion over everyone and everything and the man doomed to herd them after they've done their earthly wrongs. It hardly seemed fair but as you said, sometimes jobs must be done no matter how ugly they are.
"Well, if it's any consolation, I do not blame you for your misdeeds in regards to the young goddess. She is very pretty."
The mention of you makes Suguru bristle and the other god just shrugs, chuckling as he sips more wine and the two of them finally approach where your mother rests among her nymphs with her arms folded over her chest. If looks could kill, the Lord of the Underworld would surely find himself one of the damned.
"Nice of you to join us, Lord Geto. Finally able to carve enough time out of your schedule of torturing my daughter to show up?"
He offers a polite bow of his head, refusing to speak any further. A servant offers him wine and he refuses, raising a palm.
"So now you refuse an offering of wine? You truly have no sense, that's one thing about you that is perpetually true."
Satoru chuckles at his side, amused by your mother's undressing of the fellow god before her, and he recalls just how long all of you have known each other. Since you were young gods and goddesses, much like you who hasn't seemed to realize you are his captive and not his prize as he keeps insinuating.
"My demands are simple so I will not keep you for any longer than I must," your mother starts and Suguru's eyes flick upward to examine her. The two of you resemble each other enough that it's striking but you lack her venom, something he's grateful for having been bit by the snake more than once so to speak. "My daughter will be returned to me by next sunset and there will be no harm to you or your realm."
Finally, the man breaks his silence and he shakes his head with a chuckle, raven colored mane fanning around him with each movement.
"And if I refuse?"
Your mother chuckles in like, leaning forward in her sitting position. A man is smart enoguh to know when he's about to be bitten again so he takes a few steps backward.
For being a gentle Goddess of the Harvest, she sure is rotten.
"Then there will be repercussions."
He nods.
"She's happy where she's at. Come take her if you'd like to try."
Moving to turn on his heel and exit, he's stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He knows it belongs to Satoru and he sighs, tensing his shoulders to shrug him off to no avail.
"Now don't be hasty, Suguru. There is a lot at stake here."
The only thing he can think of is what's at stake being you. He could agree, send you back to this realm to pick and grow and dig until your fingers bleed. He could watch you as he has for all these years, cold and alone wondering when he'd have the opportunity to make you his own.
"If there's so much at stake, come claim what you desire so badly."
Satoru drops his hand and turns his head to look at Demeter, shrugging. His friend takes his leave, exiting through the corridor he just entered through
"There's your answer," he sniffs. "I did all I could."
If death himself is willing to die for you, there isn't much more than Satoru can do besides sit back and wonder what about you has become so enchanting to the man he'd risk it all for another taste of his little prisoner.
It has only been days since the last time you saw Suguru but you grow restless within his chambers despite the comfort they bring you.
You snuggle into his bedding, the familiar scent of him bringing only temporary ease to the pain in your heart his departure has brought, and wonder how his meeting is going but your mind drifts to things far less worrisome than if you'll be forced to return home or not.
Oddly enough, your mind settles on thinking about the man that Geto mentioned before his departure.
Lord Gojo is someone you've met a few times and you've always found him to be jovial if not a bit grating at times, flirting with the nymphs and servants without a care in the world despite his massive power. You take a moment to consider the differences between the two men, one wearing his power like a halo and the other like a noose.
You can't help but wonder if it's a difference in who they are in their hearts that led them to such opposing views of their power, perhaps even the world at large. You make a note to ask Suguru more when he returns, stretching your legs beneath the blankets over them with a frown.
The chamber doors open and you sit up, smiling as Suguru enters but your face falls noticing the droll look across his. You don't move to further cover yourself, allowing him see your bare flesh in person for the first time but the view doesn't spur the look off of his face.
"My treasure," he starts before sinking to his knees at the side of the bed. "You need to listen to everything I'm saying, okay?"
You remember this sight all too well, big hands capturing one of your own but you're grateful to be cognizant this time. He allows himself the luxury of one moment to look over you - your soft skin, your pebbled nipples topping perfect breasts, the delicate divot of your bellybutton - but the moment is fleeting as he meets your eyes and you understand the situation must be serious.
"I am willing to send the realm into disarray to keep you but I have to know that you want to be here with me and nowhere else."
Granting you a moment to think, he watches your face carefully for any sign of uncertainty. The faintest trace will mean that he failed, all of this was for nothing, but it hasn't appeared yet. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek in your small palm and he exhales, smiling serenely.
"Can you promise me freedom, Suguru?"
Pondering your words, fear seeps into his limbs but he decides to, for once, give you an honest answer. No deception, no hint of trickery despite how easy it would be for him to keep you here as his captive and not his lover. He could lock you away, post all the guards outside your door for all eternity and you'd never leave but he wants you to want him. To need him. To desire him.
"I cannot promise you freedom but I can promise you devotion like you've never experienced."
You nod and lean toward him, lips brushing against his once again. The intent is far less chaste than the first time, the heat you always feel stir inside of you when you look at him for just long enough sending fire through your limbs. Pulling away from his face for a moment, you smile and reach for his shoulders to pull him into the bed with you, to which he obliges. Kneeling above you, he searches your face and you brush his hair off of his face and over his shoulder.
"Then I promise you the same."
The confirmation he needs leaves your lips and he can hold back no longer, hungrily enveloping your lips in a kiss that you eagerly accept. It would take more time than you currently have to consider when you began to fall for this man who plucked you from your home and dropped you into a world not meant for you, so you simply choose to focus on the way his hands feel across your bare flesh.
They're as cold as you expected they'd be but it isn't unwelcome, deft fingers dancing along the underside of your soft breast while he dots your jaw and neck with sensual kisses that make your head feel the same way it does after you've enjoyed dandelion wine with the dryad back home - lighter than air and heavier than lead.
Groaning, he begins to rut his hips gently against your bare mound and you reach for the tie fastening his robes over his waist, fingers moving to untie the knot as quickly as you can. You don't expect to feel him pressed against you so quickly, the searing heat of his heavy cock sliding through your already slippery folds and catching on your sensitive clit in a way that makes you gasp.
"I-I've never done this before," you confess as if it's a sin, your stomach in your throat. He leaves his task of lavishing attention on your neck for a moment to meet your eyes, smiling in a way that makes your thighs clench around his torso.
"I'll take good care of you."
He will and he does, returning to kissing a path down your neck until he reaches your breasts, taking one pert nipple into his mouth with a lewd moan. The sound of him laving his tongue over the sensitive spot makes you arch your back, his cock still rubbing you just short of where you need him most and you whine. He releases your nipple from his mouth, the bud shining with his saliva, and cups your face.
"Patience. I'll make it worth your wait."
Switching to your opposite nipple, your back arches again, forcing more of your breast into his eager mouth. He loves seeing you already on the precipice of coming apart, fortunate to be the first and only man to ever see your lust heavy gaze.
You tear me apart, he thinks as he gazes up at you with your lashes resting against your cheek and your mouth open in a beautiful display just for him. Releasing your nipple, his hands trail down your torso and he moans, aloud, at the feeling of the hair covering your mound beneath his fingers. It's as luxurious as the rest of you and he promises on a day when less is at stake, he'll give you the attention you truly deserve. He'll bury his face in the thatch of hair and even lower, giving your cunt as many kisses as he wishes to give your pretty mouth, but with an uncertain future time is of the essence and he doesn't want to hesitate in claiming you.
Tentatively, he traces his finger along the seam of your pussy and you hiss at the teasing, canting your hips messily into his touch. This is true need, the sum of your want greater than any mishap that your clumsiness could cause, and he smirks against the top of your breast and watches your face contort in pleasure as he spreads your lips with his index finger and thumb of one hand, using his middle finger to rub methodical circles over your clit.
"Is that alright?"
He asks and all you can manage is a nod and a pant, walls flexing with each circle his finger turns over the engorged bud. Your head continues to swim and your eyes shut, your chin tipping toward the ceiling but he cannot allow you not to witness your own undoing. Using his free hand, he cups your chin gently and tips your face back down to give you a full glance at his sticky finger working its way to your entrance.
A squeak leaves you as he gently spreads the wetness seeping out of you from your cunt upward toward your clit, the slick feeling of his just his finger making your eyes roll backward in your head. This is nothing you've ever felt before but it's everything you've imagined, the gentle way he keeps kissing your breast as he finally works one finger into you making you moan. Open mouthed, hot faced, chest heaving - the exact noise he wants to hear you make for all eternity.
"Feels good?" He asks, dark eyes meeting yours as they open while he thumbs at your clit messily. Your walls constrict around his finger and it makes his already painfully swollen cock jump when he imagines how you'll feel wrapped around him like a glove.
Hips moving on their own, you try to match the pace of his finger plunging in and out of you but struggle and he takes control, hand dropping your chin and sliding down your torso to hold your hip. He helps you rock your hips gently, soft mumbles and moans leaving your lips and he knows what's about to happen before you do, cunt locking his finger inside of you.
"Oh Suguru," you pant, gnawing your lower lip and shutting your eyes tightly as you cum so hard your thighs shake with the force. He smiles against your breast and positions himself so that he's on his knees, hand that was just playing with your pussy running along his length to spread his silky pre-cum and your arousal along every inch.
Watching, your eyes widen when he slides his tip through your folds before positioning himself at your opening. He leans over your body, resting on his forearm and kisses you as he moves to enter. Blunt tip slipping inside of you, you gasp but only out of dizzying pleasure.
The noises encourage him to bury another inch, slowly giving himself over to every slick, warm part of you and you gasp in unison as he continues to bury himself deeper and deeper, finally bottoming out with a deep groan right above the shell of your ear.
"Mine," he whispers and you nod, chin resting against his shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.
There's surely no disputing it now as he begins to gently thrust, hips moving in a small, merciful rhythm.
"Yours," you whimper back, kissing the expanse of his shoulder blade between staccato moans. He feels too much, too big, too hot but you can't deny that it feels good, your walls flexing around his length as if you were made just for him.
The sensuality of the moment makes him realize he's coming close to his own orgasm and he reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit, each touch making you squeeze around him tighter and tighter until you hold him in place once again, cumming for him twice and giving him unspoken permission to do the same.
He spills himself inside of you, the heat making you whine and he chuckles while trying to catch his breath.
"Still want to stay?" He asks, face still pressed into your neck and you nod, wrapping your tired legs around his waist to trap him against you.
A square piece of white sheet dotted with small spots of blood is dropped in front of your mother by a messenger sent from the Underworld courtesy of your beloved and she shakes with rage upon immediate understanding of the meaning of what's laying on the marble before her.
You are no longer her daughter, her prized little lamb, you belong to him.
The threat of war was just that - a threat.
Autumn and winter both passed without further questioning aside from a few additional visits from Shoko who has become your reluctant ally if not friend and confidante. She has kept you as informed as you need to be about the happenings above but, at your own request, keeps the rest to herself. You're blissfully unaware and fine with it.
Your mother's refusal to invade the Underworld with her own thin resources and Satoru's refusal to send any of his own troops after a now sullied goddess rendered all attempts to return you home as futile but you do return, on your own accord, to your meadow the day before you know your duties to bring forth the fertile season begin.
"And you're sure that you will be alright on your own?"
You nod, Suguru refusing to let go of your hand while Shoko watches him unamused. It's one thing to watch your friend fall in love, it's another to watch him behave like a lovesick child with no other choice.
"Let her go, Suguru. She has work to do."
He glares in the direction of the goddess who shrugs as if to say "it wasn't my choice" about your decision to return to fulfill your duties each spring. You know things cannot run without you here and he agreed knowing how much it means to you, letting you live barefoot in the sunlight for three months of the year.
His flowers stay in bloom even while you're gone, yellow painting his walk every morning while you're away.
"I'll see you soon, okay? Don't miss me too much."
Returning to your work came naturally, watching life spring forth from you as comforting as the sound of your own heartbeat and you can't hide your smile looking overhead to watch your very own protector in the form of a blackbird flying in wide circles above you.
"You think that's him?" A dryad asks innocently and you nod, gaze still fixed above despite your hands already working their magic on the yellow and brown grass below your feet.
"It is."
#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#kendall writes#first full length on this blog lalalalalalalalalalalaaaaaa
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it’s hardly subtle.
satoru doesn’t ease you into it; he isn’t coy. he all but storms into your chambers, after dark but before you’ve snuffed the candles keeping the room light enough for your reading.
he doesn’t bother to tell you why, but you know—instinctively, because you know him and you know his advisors and you’re well used to his moods when they’ve been particularly nagging about his duties as king—what’s set him off. the indication that it’s worse than typical is that he keeps that odd eye jewelry perched upon his nose, chain gleaming yellow in the light of the flames as he stalks over to your lounging form upon the bed.
his arm finds your legs over the nightclothes you wear, wraps around them firmly to move them just enough for him to perch on the edge of your mattress. they don’t leave, even as you set aside your book—you expect him to lay his head on it, anticipating the typical song and dance of his pouting and whining as you push him away only to relent and let him hold you as you both drift off into slumber.
instead he hovers. even sitting he looms over you, hand tightening on your thigh and thumb rubbing soft, meaningless patterns through the fabric of your dressing gown that soothe the nerves set on edge by your inability to see the look in his eyes.
a beat passes. you wonder if he’s calmed.
but when he speaks it’s terse, low, with the kind of simmering rage he keeps close to his chest for only those pitiable few he despises utterly, and he dips his head to look over the frames of those onyx lenses and regard you with irises dark with something terrible.
“i will not give you a child.”
the statement bowls you over. your breath hitches, if only because of the way he stares—deadly serious, royal blue eyes glowing in the candlelight.
“wh—what?”
“i will not allow you to bear my children. i might be amenable to a ward, if you so desire. but i will not seed you,” his grip tightens on your thigh, “and it should go without saying that once we marry neither will any other.”
you haven’t a clue how to respond to such a thing.
he speaks as if it’s a confession; as if he’s betrayed you somehow. he holds you like you’ll disappear, or flee—and perhaps, had he told you this months ago when you’d been flighty and diffident with his affections, your rigidity might have led you to. but it is now, and you haven’t fled yet, and your beloved is nothing if not unconventional and shameless in his eccentricity.
you ponder on that too long.
“say something,” he demands, sounding almost small.
“why?” spills from your lips without thought; not petulant, or angry, but confused. not just by him—by you. you ought to be devastated, no? you ought to be angry. you assuredly are not.
“my bloodline is a scourge,” he tells you readily. “i will do everything within my power to wipe it out. therefore, i cannot have an heir. not even one.”
not even one. not a single child. the thought washes over you like the temperate water of the lake on your grounds back home, the very one you’d once played in regularly as a child. the very one your mother had once mentioned taking your own children to, someday; children who you never fantasized about, children who never had faces or names, children for whom you never set aside letters or dresses or trinkets.
not even in those teenage years spent with your current betrothed, the only man you’d ever thought of kissing and caressing you, had you once envisioned a life with children. they’d only appeared once you’d been brutally introduced to reality, and had to accept the promise of a life with a rich man who doesn’t love you.
a life which your king has gallantly shattered, and replaced with something far brighter.
“i will bear the burden of prevention,” he tells you soothingly, as if your silence has been about the effort of this request. “you needn’t worry that pretty mind over it. over any of this, my queen—“
“i am not yet your queen,” you interrupt, instinct bidding you to speak where your mind remains miles away.
“my bride,” he amends, ”look at me.”
you do.
“i want you,” he says, as if it’s some known truth of the universe, written in the stars. “i want you fervently, ardently. i won’t have another. but i will not give you my children. if you cannot take that slight, then so be it.”
the emotion that has been welling within you since the first words he'd spoken has become so intense it’s impossible to listen properly. you cannot name it without ruminating; you lay beneath him, eyes widening, not quite seeing—or hearing the words he continues to say—as you let it all sink in.
but when his hands fly to cradle your face, you’re snapped from the daze, attention suddenly brought back to the man before you.
“oh, oh, precious girl, don’t cry.” cry? his thumbs wipe away tears from your cheeks. you hadn’t even realized they’d been falling. “don’t cry”—he almost laughs, yet his voice breaks—“you’ll break my heart.“
“no,” you gasp, “no, my king, i’m hardly sad, i’m… relieved.”
that’s it. you’re relieved. he’s removed a heavy weight from your chest and you hadn’t even known of it. you will not have to bear him children. the assurance floods through your veins like liquid joy. not ten, not five, nor two nor even one; none whatsoever.
“relieved?” he repeats, blinking in surprise.
you’d never even considered the possibility. from the moment you’d known of your place in this world you’d resigned yourself to the role of childbearing. only now do you realize how much you had been dreading such a thing. only now do you understand the fear, and the relief.
“i… don’t believe i want children either.” the statement feels so final it ought to be terrifying, but it settles into your bones with a tangible rightness.
your betrothed regards you in shock. his hands fall from your face—and then they latch to your body, one on your thigh again and the other behind your neck, pulling you up and flush against him as he kisses you harshly.
“you’re so perfect,” he breathes into your mouth, unreactive yet pliant against him. “made for me, just for me, i swear—“
you kiss back, making his rambling cut off in a strangled growl as he only tugs you in closer and deepens the embrace. he’s still speaking, but it’s unintelligible; praise, certainly, muffled compliments and manic devotion. he’s relieved too, you realize. foolish to think him confident in this declaration. foolish, you’re coming to understand, to think him sane in any circumstance which might take you from him.
(if you are made for him then he is made for you, surely. this relief would be impossible for any other to give you.)
he pulls away when he realizes you’re still crying. you catch your breath, blink back the tears, let him fuss over you until your voice is solid enough to speak.
despite the relief, there is lingering hesitance; lingering fear. “you say you will bear the burden of prevention, but what of the burden of blame? they will talk, as the months go by. they will call me barren, unfit to be by your side; they will demand you take on a mistress—“
“i won’t,” your betrothed snarls, grip on your thigh almost painful with how fiercely his fingers tighten, “i would never, and i’ll cut down all those who speak ill of you.”
your laughter is disbelieving, wet with the traces of saltwater. “hardly a sound plan to run a court, my king. unless its intent is for running it to the ground.”
“for you, my heart? anything. i would raze this kingdom if it spoke your name without awe.”
that shouldn’t be comforting. it ought to be terrifying. instead you reach up to hold his cheek, and his eyes flutter closed at the contact.
“kiss me again,” you command.
usurper!gojo masterlist
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#mine.🌧#char.🌧 gojo#usurper!gojo#no children
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as the snow falls
summary. years after becoming the vampire ascendant and harnessing the endless power he’s always wanted, the loneliness of his throne brings him to reminisce about the only person who’d ever cracked the surface of his frozen heart.
so why not visit them disguised as someone else?
warnings. angst, little to no comfort, bittersweet, this is kinda long
pairing. astarion x GN!reader
a/n. happy holidays everyone! I thought about making a fluffier fic but what’s better than holiday angst!! this takes place years after the game where Tav/reader breaks up with astarion once he becomes ascendant btw!
He hated fresh snow. At this time of year, he left the palace more often, leaving deep footprints that ruin its perfect evenness. He preferred when it was stained with blood, but then again, he preferred anything over untouched snow.
So when he sits up from his bed, which is far too big for one person, he sighs irritably at the snow falling softly on the other side of the window. His voice awakens the woman beside him, who rubs at her eyes, her other fingers grazing at the two identical puncture wounds at her neck.
To be quite honest, he'd forgotten she was there. He only notices her when she revels at what he's staring at, letting out a shrilling gasp. “My Lord, it’s snowing! How beautiful.”
Judging from the way she oh so comfortably addresses him, he figures she’s one of the newer servants in the palace. Any other half witted person would know to keep their head down and leave quietly, but not her. While it would bother him on any other occasion, he doesn't bother reprimanding her as his mind fails to supply him the words. He doesn't even know her name.
“Get out,” is all he says, voice an octave deeper than usual. There's a slight pause before she scrambles to climb out of the bed, finally having had some sense knocked into her. He only glances at her right as she shuts the door, eyes only noticing how her hair is the same shade as his late lover.
When he turns back to his window, he remembers how your hair had looked softer than hers. He remembers the way it had felt when he ran his fingers through your strands, and the way you'd smile in that enchanting way of yours. The way he'd let you run your own hands through white curls in return, immersed in a world where only the two of you existed in that cruddy tent while the very real problems of the outside world didn’t weigh as heavy as they usually did.
He pulls the curtains closed.
By the time he gets to his throne room, the palace is already wide awake. While Cazador’s operations had run themselves mainly during the night, Astarion was different. He could bathe in the sun all he wanted and would only come out glowing, and he'd abuse that to his full advantage. He was not afraid of the sun, because they were not the same.
They were not the same at all.
As he paces by the servants, they all hush down, quietly returning to their busy schedules as they prepare whatever housework they'd been assigned to. When he perches on his throne, he looks down at all of them, eyes narrowed at each of their movements. He’s not truly paying any of them any attention, except for the occasional ones who have the same shade of hair as the servant this morning. Those ones have puncture wounds on their necks.
Even if their blood tastes vile in comparison to yours, it’s the closest he can get.
Finally, something truly catches his attention. If he didn't have such keen ears, he wouldn't have heard the few in the corner, whispering.
“The heroes are celebrating the restoration of the city at Elfsong tavern tonight!” one says excitedly. “Do you think Master will go see them?”
“No, certainly not,” another responds. “He rarely meets them anymore, does he? Shame. I would love to see them in person before they leave. I heard a few of them won’t be coming back for a while.”
“Surely we could go ourselves?”
“Well,” one ponders. “If we hurry with all our assignments perhaps we can make it in time…”
Astarion snaps back into attention when a male servant approaches him, admittedly with a swallow of his throat. “My Lord.”
“What is it?” he snaps, thought it surprises even himself how harshly it came out. Not that he cares.
“T-the entire first floor has been scraped clean, my Lord. The second floor, twice,” he stammers, eyes looking anywhere but at Astarion’s face. While it first boosted his ego seeing others cower in fear, now it just irritates him. “Of course, we haven't touched the left wing, as you instructed, but there were some worries regarding the dust collecting in the main bedroom there, and-”
“The left wing will remain the way it is until I orderwise,” Astarion responds immediately, then pauses. “Tell the others to rid the yards of snow.”
The servant’s eyes go wide. “But my Lord, it’s still snowing…and there's already a few inches—to clean it would just result in the snow piling again-”
“I won't repeat myself, child.”
He is not like Cazador. Not at all.
As the servant stumbles away with a frantic nod, Astarion’s gaze drifts towards the windows again. He’d had them installed the second he took possession of the palace, refusing to keep its walls in darkness any longer. He'd torn off the curtains, wallpaper, decorations, and replaced them all with new ones—ones that were more to his liking. It was an entirely new Palace, and yet…
The only place he'd left untouched was the left wing. He knew the servant’s words came from reason. The left wing was surely to rot away at this rate, being left unoccupied for so long. He hated the way it had no windows, the way the curtains were the same blood red shade Cazador had favored, and how the hallway was only dimly lit with a few candles.
He closes his eyes.
He remembers your voice so clearly, he might’ve mistaken you for standing right before him. “Once we kill Cazador, isn't this place yours?”
He had raised a brow. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”
“Maybe you can make this place more pleasing to the eye, I don't like how dark it is now.”
“Really? I am curious as to what you would deem admirable interior design. Perhaps I’ll give you a portion of the palace to yourself, my dear.”
He snaps his eyes open.
He truly hated when it snowed.
He looks down at all his subjects once more. And this time, he found the isolation of the throne eating at a heart that he no longer had.
——
The snow doesn't stop, even as the sun sets.
And while he detests himself for doing so, he finds himself entering Elfsong tavern, where the night’s just begun. After hours of contemplation, convincing himself he had no reason to join the celebrations of common folk, he thinks of course you of all people would celebrate at a mere tavern over a lavish party with the rich. Of course you'd prefer to listen to a less than pathetic excuse for a bard than a musician with years of experience.
He curses that humble streak of yours as he steps into the building with a disguise spell. He’s still an elf, handsome but not as much as his ordinary self. His hair is a shade of chestnut brown, eyes in a different color than his usual as well. It’s enough to pass as a different person.
He doesn't have to look around long, because someone bumps into his shoulder, yelping an obnoxious ‘ow!’ before turning to him. And while Astarion contemplates a more violent outcome for daring to cross a vampire, he quickly stops when he sees a familiar wizard.
“Sorry about that. Have a lot on my hands right now,” Gale apologizes with that annoying smile of his before rushing back to his table with the two drinks in his hands. It’s crowded in the tavern, but none of it stops Astarion from spotting you in an instant.
Gods above.
That same shade of hair framing your laughing expression is all he can see. Gale sets the drinks in front of you and Shadowheart, and the vampire makes out your thanks from the way you mouth the words before taking a chug from it.
You’ve matured. Your hair is styled differently than he remembers from a few years ago. The way you carry yourself is different too. And you seem more comfortable under so many gazes—all of which he wishes it were only his.
You look happy.
A part of himself hates you for it.
But when he dwells on the feeling a moment too long, he realizes it’s more directed to himself. Because while you sit there with that beautiful smile on your face, surrounded by your companions and the admiration of the city, all he has is the cold grips of his throne, where all he seems to think about is blood, and more importantly, you.
Enough, he thinks. He's making a fool of himself. He's sure you'd rather not see him anyway, after the poor falling out the two of you had. And he's not sure what he'd do if you came too close to him, which is also something he'd rather not test.
But then, you stand up. You wave something at the others before pacing across the tavern toward the back door. Astarion doesn't even have to will his legs to move before they're halfway across the door, trailing after you.
When he finds you again, you're ankle deep in the fresh layer of snow behind the loud tavern, in the otherwise quiet city of the night. You're staring at the sky as a snowflake lands on your nose, and you make no moves to wipe it off, instead you breathe in, and then out, leaving Astarion to stare blankly from the shadows.
“You can come out, you know. I promise I don't bite,” you hum, and a lump grows in his throat. Still, he does.
“It’s cold,” he says.
“It is,” you smile, oblivious to who you're speaking to through the disguise. He simultaneously wants to reveal himself and hide in the shadows. “It’s nice though. I've always loved snow, and this might be my last chance to see it in Baldur’s Gate for a while.”
He stares at the way your breath steams against the freezing air. “Have plans of travel? Surely a hero like you would prefer to stay in a city of people in your debt.”
“Adventuring, probably,” you shrug, turning your gaze back down to the snow. “I’ve done what I can here. No reason for me to stay.”
The selfish part of him flares, though it seems to be most of him nowadays. Him. He should be the reason.
His brows furrow. “You won't be coming back?”
“Probably not for a while. This city holds a lot of memories, and not all of them are ones I'm rather fond of,” you sigh. “I just wish I could've helped more people, but I suppose life just doesn't work out the way you want it to.”
He raises a brow. “How ambitious. I would think saving an entire city is enough for at least a few lifetimes.”
“Well,” your voice drops. “There was one more person I really wanted to help. One that I lost.”
He remains quiet, eyes glued to the way you kick at the snow.
“I should have guided him better. Should have let him know that he was enough. Not because he was some all powerful being, but just because he was him. I thought—” your nose crinkles. “—I thought I'd been helping him, by encouraging him any way I could. But that tore us apart, and I'd do anything to go back and fix it.”
To be in that tent again, to hold you close again, to love you again.
“Sounds like a lucky man to receive such endearing words from you,” is all he manages.
You snort, laughing a bit. “I was the lucky one to have ever met him. I just wish our time together hadn't been so short.”
And as you hold out cupped hands to the sky, gathering the snow, Astarion feels his chest go impossibly tight when you finally meet his eyes. Gods, had he missed them. “I wish we could've seen the snow together. The first snow in the morning, when nothing’s touched it and it’s just a perfect even layer. I think he would have liked it.”
“I’m sure,” he says. “I’m sure he would've enjoyed watching the snow with you.”
You smile again, and he forces down the urge to pull you closer right then and there. To remind you that you can have all that, and more. He could give you everything, the world be damned. He could have you sit on his lap in the throne of his palace, and fill your head with hushed promises of love and praises, holding you tight to his side with one hand and wine in the other.
He could forget about how cold the throne feels.
Instead, he only watches you step out of the snow and pace towards the door leading back to the tavern. And as you open the door, you glance back at him. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“I ought to return home. I have quite the night ahead of me.”
You tilt your head. “Shame, I was hoping to buy you a drink for listening to a complete stranger for five minutes.”
Astarion offers a slight nod. “Perhaps next time, I’ll take you up on that offer.”
He hates the churning inside of him as he realizes this is your final farewell. This is the last time you’ll give him your full attention, and he detests the way all he wants to do is to convince you to stay. To realize he can offer so much more than the rest of the world. That he’d ruin the world for you.
But when your smile softens, he stops himself again. He curses the effect you have on him. “Next time, then.”
And then the door shuts closed.
He stares at it for a long time, waging an internal battle where he struggles to gather his composure relentlessly until he looks away and turns his attention back to the snow.
He breathes. Not because he has to—because he doesn't—but because it finally allows his shoulders to relax.
The air is cold in his throat.
Somehow, from here rather than the view from his bedroom, the snow doesn't look so bad.
#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion#bg3 x reader#fluff#angst#bg3#bg3 tav
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༺ 𝒮𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓇 ༻
Sukuna only wanted to have some fun, he never expected to save such a feeble human.
True Form Sukuna - Pre Gojo and Yuji - Angst? Fluff?
Watching from afar, Sukuna’s eyes followed as a curse chased you through the once peaceful forest. Your vibrant haori torn and worn, your hair knotted in a mess, and your skin covered in blood… Perhaps from your own wounds? Surely a human couldn’t fight off such a creature on their own… Or maybe it was blood from someone who was close to you before you ran? Sukuna pondered as he continued to watch with a devilish smirk on his face. The fact you thought you had a fighting chance was enjoyment in itself, he knew a human couldn’t survive such a chase. Did you not realize that this curse was simply playing games with you, what a fool?
His large frame shook with mirth as he let out a boisterous laugh, Sukuna jumped from the tree he was once perched in; he wanted to watch this play out closer. Maybe even kill the curse and consume your flesh himself, afterall... That’s why he came out here- to have his own fun.
It only took a few mere seconds to reach where you and the curse were. You were forcefully being held to the ground, the curse’s large hand tangled in your hair as its tongue swept over your bloodied cheek. With a disgusted scoff, Sukuna speaks to himself “incompetent things, disgusting.”
Just as he was readying himself to interfere, Sukuna’s eyebrow arches as you manage to kick the curse off yourself, “Quite the nimble little thing after all, huh?” He watched in amusement as you stood your ground, determination written all over your face yet your body said otherwise… It was shutting down. Your breathing was uneven as you slipped a hand in your tattered Haori pulling out a small dagger from its sleeve. The thing was rusty, dull, and the hilt itself looked like it was falling apart. Did you really think you could fend off the curse with this pitiful looking weapon?
A loud gasp of pain escaped you as your back suddenly came into contact with one of the solid trees, your eyes widening at the sharp pain that exploded from the back of your skull. It was at that moment you realized you were in a lot more shit than before. Your head felt fuzzy, your ears starting to ring as black dots started to appear before your eyes. You let out a sound of pain as your body slid down onto the ground, a burning pain starting to spread through your entire person. Sukuna at that moment felt something, why were you still fighting?
“Foolish little lamb.” As if his body had a mind of its own, Sukuna reluctantly interfered.
You took another pained breath and closed your eyes, waiting for the final impact of the curse to reach you. You heard the sound of its feet against the dirt and grass coming towards you, but its movements stopped… You could no longer hear it hurtling toward you, all you heard was a violent rip and something along the lines of liquid splattering. Forcing your eyes open, tired eyes glancing up slowly, you realized that someone was standing before you.
A humanoid figure with four arms stood before you, back facing you as his hand was up; the hand buried into the chest of the curse with ease as his pale pink hair swayed with the wind. Your eyes widened in shock as the dark figure pulled his hand from the curse's chest, its heart in the figure's hand. As he turns to face you, your heart drops. Multiple eye’s decorate his face, they’re remarkably vibrant, and for a second you find yourself lost in them. There was a pregnant silence as the two of you locked eyes with one another, the only sound being the heart that lay dormant in his hand.
Who would’ve thought that a mere human would catch the eyes of Sukuna. The king of curses. He certainly didn’t, nor did he think he’d want nothing more than to have you embraced in his arms, and his only…
#I love true form Sukuna so much#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#Sukuna#true form sukuna#sukuna x reader#true form sukuna x reader#jjk sukuna
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Hiraeth
↬ he can't stop returning back to you
Includes; PM!Dazai
Entry; 💭 - thoughts not said outloud + ❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜
[Event Navi | M.List] | [Bsd M.List] ♡
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Dazai has been doing this far too often. And he knows it. Showing up to your living quarters rather than his storage container at the dead of night. Despite himself, it became a perpetual cycle that he had found to be powerless to break away from - acting as the puppeteer to his earthen desires that wilted with passing graces.
The crickets that usually filled his solitude came to increasingly accommodate you as a change. Unknowingly, you became a resurgence within his mind. And before he could even realize it, his legs had led him aimlessly back to you.
Pushing you away wasn't as easy as he thought - and the question if that was a good or bad thing hung in the silence.
Cotton Fingers peeled open the door, exposing his one eye to your slumbering figure. You were perched on the left side of the bed - it became a habit you acquired ever since Dazai has started to fancy your presence and found himself lying in that vacant spot beside you. However, he was never at the mercy of rest; his milky eye would gaze at the ceiling until rays of orange and gold leaked through the binds. That was always his sign of departure, leaving more weary and in search of an abstruse answer.
On the days he wasn't so hapless, his rest often came at the expense of nightmares; losing you to a power far greater than the demon prodigy. He couldn't really pinpoint when he became so attached to you.
Perhaps it was an accumulation of many things that gave sway to his blocked heart. The first time he let you dress his wounds, watching with catious eyes as you carefully nurtured him back to his second skin of gauze. Maybe it was in the way you didn't seem perturbed by the ugliness that was hidden beneath, punctuated by the soft feathery trailing of your fingertips against the molded scars.
Perhaps it was the kisses you pressed on his cheeks and creased forehead, bathing him in your attention devoid of the pain he was accustomed to. Not many escaped his touch unscathed, and yet yours was a drug he chased after incessantly.
Or maybe it was the first time the name 'Osamu' slipped from your lips in sincerity. Dazai almost hated the way he wanted to hear you say it again - to provoke that gentle tickle that became distinguished in his chest when he was with you.
But as much as he conjectured on the potiental answer, it had always remained to be an inquiry that probed the back of his head. Far too complex for even his great intellect, it was both vexing and equal parts a craving.
Dazai made work of shrugging off his coat, the article feeling unnecessary heavy on his taut shoulders. His shoes were already long abandoned, tossed in the genkan beside yours in a lax manner. He's done it so many times that it felt like second nature.
It was quickly followed by the pulling of his tie, the windsor knot becoming a peice of flimsy material and discarded on the small nearby table.
It was the same piece of furniture the two of you would cramp up together and eat cheap takeout or meals crafted by your hands. Regardless of the quality it was a change that filled up his stomach - unlike the cans of crab that littered his home acting as taunting reminders of his position.
He wordlessly slipped beside you, muscle memory coaxing him to curl around your body. His fingers instinctively took place in your hands. Limbs that were so accustomed to yielding instruments of death became fidgety against your own. His pinky mindlessly flexed around your joints, his thumb drawing out the contours.
For reasons he struggled to fathom, he couldn't quite bring himself to look at you. Not in a detested form of manner, but rather for the vulnerability that came if he risked a glance. To see you curled up beside him, dozing in your dreams and feeling secure even with the mafioso beside you. Selfishly, he pondered if you dreamed of him; perhaps immersed in an abstract reality far more promising than whatever this was.
" I'm back." His voice came out as a mumble despite knowing you couldn't hear him. Outloud, the words felt more like an indulgence to himself than anything.
His head leaned forward, his forehead making contact with your hair. The vacuous plaster of his lips remained; however, his eyes became glazed in a spur of intangible emotions. He chose to ignore the way his body hugged closer to you, legs sweeping over yours in a tangle of limbs. He didn't make an attempt to resist it either.
He allowed the silence to suspend the moment, nose nestling into the back of your head and absorbing your presence in silent fear of it being ephemeral. The weight of you being taken from him was always present, and he wasn't sure what he would do if that came into fruition. Just thinking of it rooted its probability deep within his mind and jutted a frown on his face.
Dazai felt his heart stutter when you habitually snuggled into him, light murmurs slipping from your lips. Even if your subconscious you gave him slices of your affection that made him gnaw in reproof yearning.
" Don't disappear on me, okay?" His voice was muffled against your skin, fingers weaving into your own properly.
Under normal circumstances he would have chastised himself for exhibiting such softness; cautioning himself to be more prudent even in your assuaging amity. But it felt terribly easy now to recite those words, even when doused in raw honest undertones.
" I'm scared of ending up alone." Again. He inwardly added, squeezing his eye shut. His voice was small, uncharacteristic of the teasing tone that laced his tongue. No snarky comment, flirty one-liners or fallacious words. He pressed a peck to the crown of your head as though sealing the daunting declaration with verdity.
He was unsure how much time passed but Dazai cradled close to you, whispering light phrases under breath, not yet prepared to voice them properly to you. Truthfully, he was addicted to you, and he briefly wondered what he did to find himself in this moment. Rummaging his mind did little to alleviate his pondering, but it did swarm his heart with an abnormal amass of warmth. A wistful expression would consume him the more he reflected upon your shared moments.
He wasn't some port mafia executive, he was Osamu Dazai in your embrace. And he selfishly desired for that not to change. For the sun to not rise just so he may soak in your attention with greed and rest his head against your shoulder. He wishes to hear your pulse in his ear, to remind him that you're very much real.
He almost can't stop the guilty grin that stretches on his cheeks when the familiar rhythm resonates in his ear. And contrary to the abode you provide him, it also makes his throat go dry and threaten to squeeze his breath away - unsure how long you will remain in his arms.
When you nuzzled your back into his chest, he couldn't help but squeeze your hands, his lips falling on that pulse point on your shoulder. Even if he wasn't able to sleep, his gaze inched closer to you, committing your small details to memory before flickering back to the ceiling. But more and more he came to immerse himself in your person both willingly and subconsciously.
He never meant to get attached, but maybe if it was you, it wouldn't be so bad.
-
Erm. I wrote this at 2am , idk if this even makes sense 💀
Event Taglist; @eynnwwyjth @himebwrries @seiiblue
If you wish to be added or removed, comment on this post !
#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#dazai x reader#dazai fluff#i would say this is fluff.#dazai osamu x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai imagines#bsd imagines#bsd scenarios#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#bsd x gender neutral reader#page from auroras notebook
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hi !! saw requests for song fics are open, may I request something angsty with fem!human!reader x megatron (idw) to ‘young and beautiful’ by lana del rey ? 🥹 <3 thank you in advancee
Young and Beautiful (IDW Megatron x Fem!Human!reader)
Word count: 1,070
Eighty years. Humans lived for a measly eighty years.
You change right before Megatron’s optics. Your hair grays, your skin sags, your bones grow thinner. Like the very universe was sapping you away from him. Vector Prime alone could grant him all the time he needed to write a poem about all of the moments he lived with you.
But how could he begin to write when every time he picked up his stylus, you were that much further from him? He longed to capture the feeling of you and immortalize it in a data pad, but then you’d touch your tiny, soft servo along his gray bottom lip plate and take him away. Remind him that you were his moment. Here for a second, gone in a blink.
You flare, you flicker, you fade.
You asked him once, if he’d love you even after you weren’t so soft. You weren’t so pretty. And your mind wasn’t as intact as it once was.
Megatron’s answer was immediate.
“Even once the spark of your life extinguishes, and I won’t stop even for a klik after.”
You may have lamented the way time and age changed you, but Megatron learns to see unique beauty in it. There was something beautiful in a life lived so long that you COULD age, it was a promise of peace and resilience. You lived, you fought, you came back again and again. A force so strong that it took time itself to put you down.
Megatron thought that was romantic. Not in the way of kisses in summer or dancing in the moonlight, but the cosmic way. In the way that atoms and space dust collect together and become new stars, or how he realizes, in the grand scheme of things, so, so many tiny and nearly impossible things had to happen for you to be his.
As you grew older, you grew more rapt by his poetry. You blamed it on growing old and sentimental, he argued you were always sentimental. You had always found it fascinating, but Megatron believed that perhaps you took some comfort in it.
“Do you think, because I love you… I’ll be there in the Afterspark waiting for you?”
You were resting against his neck cables, curled up between his shoulder armor and helm vents like a tiny glitch mouse. The ardent heat of energon pulsing up the lines of his throat felt good and helped soothe some of the arthritis in your hands. He had to rest his chin on his servo, propping his helm up at an angle to keep from squishing you, but he hadn’t the spark to stop you.
It’s a question that he’d pondered many times. For he who often pondered the nature of all things grand, the question of life after death was a philosophist’s energon and mineral tablets.
“You do not have a spark,” He points out, shifting his helm minutely to a position slightly more comfortable for you to tuck yourself under, “So I would not expect you to be held to the same rules and expectations of Primus.”
“But, your God is real.” You raise as a counterpoint, “Any proof that various human gods are real could be considered dubious at best.”
“That is a point for the high queries of gods, but what of your lack-there-of spark?”
“What is a spark but life?” You offer, gesturing with your hands and making the round shape of a spark before your breast. Megatron loathed to move you from your warm perch, so instead he tips the data pad in his servo so he can see your tiny reflection. You look comfortable, hidden securely in his collar fairings. “Perhaps I DO have a spark, but it’s simply just a different form. After all, energy cannot be destroyed. It merely changes form.”
You chuckle, knocking your knuckles against his neck cables. “Julius Robert Mayer.”
“A human philosopher?” Megatron asks, setting his datapad aside to instead settle for reaching up and touching his digit to your lap. You take the hint immediately, and hold his huge digit between your two itty bitty hands.
“Founder of the laws of energy conservation. Suppose most of us are philosophers in some way, though.”
You have to be, with lives so short and bright. Megatron keeps that thought private to himself, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You were feeling thinner and thinner these days. He hoped you ate well enough.
“So, what have we come to the conclusion of in this conversation?” You prompt, bringing back your point, “That there is no true way to say I do not have a spark, and that it’s ultimately far more likely that Primus and his Afterspark wait for me than say… The Christian or Hebrew concept of God.”
“For there are too many to count.”
“For there are too many to count.” You agree, “But it is the most commonly applicable and the most similar to Primus.”
“But,” Megatron clicks his glossa, a smile coming to his face. He loved it so when he could have these in-depth conversations with you. “That is also dismissing that humanity is a much younger culture than Cybertron was. Perhaps you will find proof that these things are indeed true, or perhaps something you had not even considered. Perhaps in the afterlife, you will have a veritable plethora of ‘heavens’ to choose from.”
“Then I’d choose to wait for you.” You say, “Or I’d choose some religion where I’d be reborn and I could fall in love with you again.”
“You could live again, redo all of the things you had missed. Unmake all of your mistakes.”
“You talk as if I considered you a mistake.”
He feels your tiny, cool lips press to the pulsing line of energon that is connected directly to his spark chamber. You laugh, giddy and sounding just as young as you were when he first met you. There’s a well of emotion there in his chest and, if not for millions of years of carefully cultivated control, he might have sobbed.
Instead, he settles for curling the whole of his huge, warm servo against your body, and recording this moment for all of time. The moment he writes on his spark that you wanted to be his in any life.
“I suppose it is not a mistake then, if you do not regret it.”
#transformers#mtmte transformers#idw transformers#idw megatron#reader insert#megatron x reader#request fill#song fic#Thank you for requesting!!#this got a lot more philosophical than i expected tbh
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Why yes, your Honour, I would like to lick Jake Seresin’s abs. Each and every one of them. Trace them with my tongue. If that’s a crime throw me in jail.
Well, congratulations, lovely anon. You've inspired something that no one ever thought possible -- Rae writing for a BLONDE MAN, of all people. Pls enjoy this little blurb. Even though it's probably not the greatest thing I've ever written --
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your name (on that coffee cup)
warnings: none, just bad flirting.
pairing: jake jortles "hangman" seresin x fem!civilian reader
word count: 2.3k (you've gotta be fucking kidding me) of sweet, if not stilted, flirtation and whatever the fuck this is...
Reblogs make the world go 'round! 🌿💜
--
The coffee shop was more crowded than usual today. You supposed it might have something to do with the fact that today, the weather gods had decided that it would be the one, annual rainy day, forcing commuters to seek shelter indoors from the "deluge" (but what you considered to be, at most, a decent sprinkle). Southern Californians were decidedly not built for the rain.
You casually observed the casuals and regulars alike filtering in and out from your chosen table adjacent to the pickup counter. Your usual table, from where you'd set up shop, plinking away at your novel with your playlist and the welcome, muffled bustle of customers as backdrop busy-noise that filtered through your headphones for company.
People-watching was uniquely inspirational whenever you were facing a bit of writer's block, so you had opted for leaving the relative coziness of your nearby apartment – content to perch on at this table and allow the quirks of strangers to serve as fodder for your novel.
Except that today, it was more overstuffed than your favorite blue-velvet chair in your apartment. The queue of bodies waiting for their cups of caffeine and their matcha lattes causing the already-warm interior of the shop to fog the windows.
You'd just finished a particularly troublesome paragraph – How your two stubborn protagonists were ever going to set aside their differences as they made their way through the enchanted wood, you weren't one hundred percent clear on. But sometimes it was best to skip the mental obfuscation and jump straight into a part you were excited to write … their eventual love scene was beckoning you.
You worried your drink's straw between your teeth, eyes unfocused, pondering how to get Ser Marcus out of his shirt and beneath Lady Lucy, when he walked in.
Him.
The tall drink of water with broad shoulders and dirty-blonde hair. With a million-watt smile he graced to whichever barista happened to be handing him his coffee that day.
He looked like a Ken-doll, if you were honest. But not in a bad (junkless) way. More of an All-American, conventionally attractive way, if he'd asked you. Not that he had. You had certainly seen him here before. But you weren't sure the same could be said of him.
You watched idly as he breezed past you to place his order in a damp shirt that was veritably plastered to his torso, and running shoes that squeaked with rainwater, the noise making its way over the dull din of the shop.
Perhaps he'd been out for a run when the rain had started.
He spoke to Monica the barista at the counter, out of earshot, though the easy way he leaned against the counter and smiled at her made it clear he didn't mind his own state of dress. The sort of easy handsome of an Eastwood.
You had turned back to the blinking cursor of your doc, thoughts buzzing with handsomely tanned skin and wet clothes, when the unmistakable shadow of a person loomed over you.
You glanced up, only to be simultaneously thankful for your screen protector and greeted with –
"Hi there," he breezed.
It was Ken. In the perfect plastic flesh.
And, really, it was the fact that his torso was directly in your seated eyeline (and no other reason, you swear) that allowed you to notice (appreciate) that his already-rainwet and plastered shirt hugged his torso in such a way that allowed you to observe (appreciate) that you could see the outline of every. single. one. of his abdominal muscles, as though his shirt was made of flimsy tissue paper that might tear away beneath your touch.
No, this was fine.
"Uhhh." You were articulate, you swear. "Hi."
"Would it be alright if I sat with you while I wait?" He gestured over his shoulder with a pointed thumb vaguely in the direction of the pickup counter. "It's a little crowded in here today, and this is the only open seat."
Ah. An arrangement of convenience, and not that he wanted to sit with you.
You bit down your disappointment long enough to ease your lips into what you hoped resembled a smile, gesturing openly to the seat.
"By all means."
He shot a grateful–if not cheeky– wink your way as he pulled the seat out, angling himself to maintain eye contact with you, while still keeping one ear open for his name.
"Thank you, ma'am," he conceded politely, voice still warm and easy, as though no one had ever refused him a paltry request in his life. (And maybe they hadn't.) "I didn't exactly want to stand there in my wet clothes."
"No," you agreed. "Sitting in wet clothes is much more pleasant. Especially in those tight, Baby Gap-sized t-shirts. Everyone knows that."
"Everyone," he agreed, eyes twinkling and allowing you to appreciate just how green they were, glimmering, verdant and mossy, like the forest bedecked with fresh rainfall. How fortuitous, then, that he'd choose to sit with you on San Diego's one rainy day per year. "Teacher? Grading?" He nodded at your laptop, gem eyes flitting over the fading, curled stickers slapped onto the back.
You couldn't help yourself. You giggled.
"No," you shook your head. "Novelist."
"Ah," he conceded. "So whatcha writing?"
And as you made to open your mouth to tell him that he shouldn't really ask a writer those types of question, he perked, and held up a finger as if to say "hold that thought," as he shot up to retrieve his beverage from the counter.
He must've heard his name. Ah well, it was nice while it lasted. You tried not to feel disappointed that your one encounter with hot coffee shop guy had come and gone in the blink of an eye. And tried not to beat yourself up that you hadn't caught the name when it had been called…
To your surprise, he turned back and plopped himself back into the seat opposite you, expectant eyes awaiting your answer as he blew into the small hole at the lid of his coffee cup.
"Ehm," you continued. "It's… a … novel," you finished, lamely. Flushed with the prospect of having to admit to this guy that you wrote high-fantasy erotica for a living, your self-preservation instincts kicking in before you admitted something you wouldn't necessarily have the chance to come back from if he decided to make fun of you for.
And he was ridiculously handsome. The sort of guy who looked like he belonged on the cover of the type of book you were writing, billowing unbuttoned shirt, and all... Maybe he'd pose if you asked?
If he was annoyed or put off by your evasiveness, Ken-doll didn't show it, that million-watt grin easing its way back onto his very pleasing face, prominent jaw and white teeth on full display as he played along.
"I might've guessed," he said. "I'm Jake, by the way."
He held out his hand for you to shake. You responded in kind, allowing his hand to envelop yours with both size and warmth as you pumped your arm in a firm, decided handshake.
"I might've guessed," you parroted.
He shot you a quizzical look; brows furrowed.
"It's on your cup," you nodded in the direction of the cup clutched in his other hand, the corner of your mouth titling into a smile.
"A dead giveaway," he agreed, pleased that you had thought to make the observation. Maybe you were this way with everyone, he thought. All sweet smiles and starry, foxlike eyes, discerning but decidedly available. Selfishly, perhaps — he hoped that wasn't the case.
"Unless of course they had gotten the wrong name, and it's really, like, Jack, or James, or something," the fizzling pleasure of his hand on yours and the swelter of this coffee shop was really doing a number on your head, because now you were rambling. "Then if I had called you Jake based on the cup, I would've been both presumptuous and stupid. Like a 'Mark-with-a-C situation… Cark," you finished, unhelpfully.
"Now that's just unlikely, sweetheart," he disagreed. "You're clearly too sharp for that… Bridget." He squinted at your cup, greeting you with a name that was not your own.
"Oh, no…" you laughed, the pleased sound meeting his ears despite the relative staticky-din of the late-morning rush around him, "My name isn't Bridget," you explained, sheepish about the relative silliness of the game of being friends with one of the workers. "Uh, Monica likes to give me a new name every day I come in. Sort of to mock me for how often I come, I guess? We've known each other awhile. So, she's allowed."
If Jake thought it was childish or silly, he didn't let on, instead nodding and smiling at your explanation, still incomprehensibly interested in what you had to say…
"So that's why I see you in here so often," he conceded. "A novelist who writes in a coffee shop, where she knows everyone. Cute."
Out of any other mouth, it might have sounded condescending. But there was no hint of condescension in his honey-smooth voice. Only the facile twang of Southern charm and genuine earnestness.
But all you heard was that he'd seen you before. He had seen you.
And you must've asked this out loud, because the next thing you knew, he was all smooth laughter and glimmering teeth,
"Yeah, I've seen you," he agreed. "You always look so concentrated, I never want to interrupt. My mama raised me better than that. But today I actually had the chance to say hello. So, uh, thank the rain, I guess…" he eased.
And you'd really hoped that the pleased warmth of flirtatious embarrassment wasn't inclined to show itself in any way, across your face or the exposed skin of your shoulders. Because you were certain those sparkling eyes of his were shrewd enough to tell. And how could a guy like this not be aware of his effect on women? So, you pressed on, closing your laptop lid, the better to focus on him with.
"And what do you do, Jake? If you're out for a run in the rain, you're clearly committed. Let me guess," you tapped your chin in mock-consternation, voice trailing in thought. "Model? Please say no because that would be a lot for me."
Jake barked a laugh at this. And perhaps you'd incidentally, dangerously boosted what was already a high ego. But he continued in good humor –
"No, sweetheart. Not a model. Naval aviator," and he'd actually shrugged at that, like it was no big deal. "I'm at the base down the way. So, yeah, I guess you can say I'm dedicated."
You groaned, teasingly, fucking your head into your arms, "Oh fuck, no. So just a civil servant who looks like a model. You can get the fuck outta here with that." You leaned across the table to teasingly shove one of his (ridiculously sculpted) shoulders, pleased at the feel of him beneath your fingertips.
"It's my honor to serve you, ma'am," he straightened in his seat, taking on his best "official" voice. (Oh, god, this was doing a number on you.) He continued,
"In fact, I think you should let me take you to dinner…?" He trailed off, perhaps in realization that he still didn't know your name.
You twisted in your seat to pluck a pen from the messenger bag hanging from the back of your chair, turning back to pluck his cup from his very hands in a move so cheeky you would swear you were having some kind of out-of-body experience. You were never this bold.
But the attentions of this, okay, let's be real… this veritable Adonis before you was likely doing something dangerous to your own ego, never mind his. Your head was somewhere in the clouds (a place he was clearly comfortable, being a "naval aviator, ma'am," and all)..
You tugged the pen cap off with your teeth, your attention fixed on the label.
Huh. Vanilla soy latte.
You didn't comment on his drink of choice, choosing instead to strike through his name with the pen, and ink your own, your phone number printed clearly and neatly beneath it. Handing the cup back to him when you'd finished, recapping the pen as he twirled the cup in his hands to read what you'd put on the label.
He parroted your name back to you, the way his mouth worked out the letters an image you'd likely think about for a little too long, ya know, later... and the sound of it from his throat ringing in your ears.
"I'll text you," he assured, winking at you as he made to stand, rapping his knuckles on the corner of your table before mock-saluting you with two fingers to his forehead and an easy, charming grin on his lips. "I look forward to hearing about that novel over dinner, ma'am."
With that, he walked out of the shop, taking with him the air in your lungs and your certainty that that had actually just happened, and leaving you with the faintly buzzing feeling of lofty flirtation and the blooming promise of a fucking date!
Eager to capitalize on the fizzy feelings, you opened your laptop lid and turned back to your unfinished section now, wan smile borne of fresh flirtation affixed to your lips, your thoughts swimming in a seafoam green ocean of emerald eyes, breezy flirtation, and, yeah, tight t-shirts...
"It was then that Lady Lucy swung her leg astride Ser Marcus, devilish fingers peeling his tunic from his toned stomach. With a smirk painted across her features, she dipped her head, allowing herself to trace her tongue along the ridges and planes of her lover's stomach, reveling in the feel of each prominent abdominal muscle beneath her tongue. Greeted with the delightful sound of her beloved's surprised gasps, manifestations of pleasure at her attentions…"
And no, you reasoned with yourself as you typed. You totally weren't thinking of green-eyed, handsome Jake as you wrote. These desires were your character's, not yours – you swear.
And no, your thoughts also were definitely not on his promised text message, either, that lit up your phone as you glanced at it. Greeted with the proposition of "Dinner Thursday?" No, you totally weren't thinking of him…
It's life that imitates art, after all... (Or was it the other way around?) And you hadn't had the chance to taste those abs for yourself. (But hope springs eternal...)
--
Tagging: @withahappyrefrain @thegirlwhowritesfics @xbamboowishesx @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @abibliophobiaa @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @thematthewmurdock @mrshipsmcgee @p3mybeloved @decadentpaperduck @letmeplaytheliontoo @vestrangel @moonlight-prose @aphrogeneias @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @2clones-1kamino @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @shakira-sasha @siriusfahey @joaquinwhorres @jakexfmc @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid @maxmayfield @drew-garfi @eagerforthesky
#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader#hangman x reader#hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake 'hangman' seresin x you#my writing#tgm fic#top gun maverick fic#jake seresin imagine#glen powell#glen powell x reader#lovely anons#hangman fluff#jake seresin fluff#isn't it just like me to write for the white boy of the month several months too late#flopcity usa here we come#pls reblog
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Hide and Seek
yandere cyno x reader
cw: yandere, mentions of blood
“Found you.”
The sensation of your feet sinking unto the sand with each step back is agonizing, dreadful. The winds that pass by occasionally are but momentary canopy of coarse dust and they only quicken your heart's pace more and more.
“Please, I've already clarified that I've done nothing!”
Among the golds, the violet aura oozing from General Mahamatra's figure and the green of your uniform stick out like sore thumbs. You take another step back — almost tumbling down because of the passed out body of an eremite mercenary — electro crackles from Cyno's weapon dangerously and one look at the scarlet sand has you gulping.
“‘Nothing’? Are you imposing that plagiarism is nothing?”
Thump. You feel the desert sand between your fingers next and for a moment, you wish that you'd sink in it whole instead of facing this humiliation. You catch sight of your hat in the corner of your eye, a ray of sunlight shines on the single gem perched on it reflecting back splattered blood. Your attention is snapped back to the General Mahamatra as you realize that there is scarce distance between you two now. The sharpness of his eyes have not dulled in slight but perhaps by what of your blurry vision, you see his eyes soften, by a fraction.
“How pitiful,”
Your body involuntarily flinches as the General crouches down to your level but one sharp look from him again and you're pinned to your place. He seems to ponder on something by the silence, you vaguely make out various degrees of conflict in his dusk-like irises.
“Hm, how about this ; in exchange for your crimes to remain concealed from the Akademiya, you come with me and pledge your utmost devotion to me and me only?” his hand wipes away a stray tear, his touch burning against your cool skin. In the miscellany of all the events that had passed, when exactly you started crying slips past and the weight of the General Mahamatra's offer hangs heavily in the air.
You're no fool to the catch in his deal and if all your suspicions that had accumulated from months — perhaps even years — prior prove anything, it's that you should not accept it. But on the off chance you don't, you'd be dragged to trial and then be banished from the Akademiya's, even Sumeru's borders ; unable to pursue knowledge for the rest of your mortal life.
Lord Cyno's fingers curl around your face in a tilt, his index finger taps against your skin, brief shocks of electricity passes by ; just strong enough to startle you. There's something so... predator like in his gaze, it taunts you, dares you to refute, reject him.
You feel so so utterly powerless.
Chocking back a sob, you shakily lean unto Cyno's touch, unable to pronounce a response. The General takes that as a yes and jerks your face up, a silent command to meet his gaze. The smile on his face has shivers run down your spine.
Cyno commends incredible restraint against his inner emotions, soaking in every bit of your reactions.
Finally.
Taking the risk of making some.. minor adjustments to your theses was definitely worth it.
#because the cyno trailer gave me ✨thoughts✨#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#yandere#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere cyno#yandere cyno x reader#yandere cyno x you#cyno x reader#cyno x you#genshin cyno#cyno genshin#genshin impact x reader#tw: blood#tw: yandere#genshin x reader#yandere drabbles#yandere genshin drabbles#genshin impact drabbles
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Aged up!Lo'ak x Fem Omaticaya!reader
A pain in the ass
Summary: Lo'ak and Y/N were never fond of one another, always teasing and taunting. Usually Lo'ak could deal with her teasing, but one day he reaches his breaking point.
Warnings: It's smut y'all | Dominant Lo'ak/Bratty reader | The usual smut stuff | p in v | Not proof read
Her head tilted with amusement as she sat with her friend Emu. The two had perched up in the huge trees, basking in the cool shade as they observed the scene below them. Lo'ak, the son of the great Toruk Mokto was currently being lectured at by the great warrior. While Y/N had originally been up in the trees to relax, it would seem today she struck gold. She watched intently at the hunched shoulders of Lo'ak, his shameful demeanor being no surprise. This occurred a lot. Lo'ak getting in trouble, Jake lecturing him, and his big brother Neteyam attempting to defend him. Except this time seemed different. More intense. Like he'd really screwed up.
"Ooh he's done for this time." Emu joked as she swung her legs in the air. While Y/N didn't turn to her, she did give a chuckle in response. "Definitely. I wonder what that Sxkang did this time. Probably tried joining the fight again. Eywa he's so stupid." Y/N said as she stood from her spot on the tree top. It seemed as though the argument was coming to a closing, or perhaps an opening for her. She glanced over at Emu, her friends jubilant expression coming as no surprise. Emu was always a joy, no matter the circumstances. "C'mon, let's go. I'm not going to let a chance like this go to waste." Y/N urged as she made her way to the trunk of the tree. She began to climb down, her friend following closely behind. The rough bark wasn't anything unfamiliar. In fact, Y/N enjoyed the forests welcoming nature.
"How come you're always trying to bother him? And dont use that lame excuse like 'He's fun to annoy'. You know you enjoy being around him Y/N." Her friend spoke slyly, a grin painting her lips. Y/N could only roll her eyes in response, a look of distaste now on her face. "No, I don't. Now quit trying to put those crazy ideas in my head." She grumbled as her feet thudded against the dirt and grass. Her friend landed next to her, a knowing look on her face. "Okay Y/N, whatever you say. I'll see you later after your little playdate with Lo'ak." Before Y/N could get in a word, Emu departed, making her way in the opposite direction. Y/N could only sigh as she pondered on her friends words. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the thought of actually enjoying Lo'aks presence. Sure he wasn't horrible to be around, and his sense of humor wasn't bad, he was Lo'ak. The same boy who she teased years ago, curious as to how he managed to have four fingers instead of three.
She trudged through the shady forest, wandering flora and fauna catching her eyes along the way. Soon she passed a marker. The small notch that was etched into the tree beside her. An L, for Lo'ak. Months ago Y/N had found this little hide out of Lo'aks, managing to patronize him even further. Now that Y/N really thought about it, she was always around Lo'ak. Maybe Emu was right- No. Hell to the no. The thought itself made her face crumple into one of distaste, the desire to rid her mind of it growing strong.
"Ew, what the hells wrong with your face?" Her head snapped towards the voice, a scowl replacing the previous distaste. "I know you're not talking, not after you just got in trouble. Again." The man could only scoff at her words, eyes rolling as he leaned against a tree. "You're such a bitch. You really came all the way out here just to talk shit? Man get a life." Lo'ak snapped out, his brows furrowing at her attitude. Y/N did the same, her brows furrowing as her arms folded across her chest. "I'm the bitch? Yeah okay, but who gets yelled at on the daily? I'd say you're the biggest bitch of them all Lo'ak."
That did it. Lo'ak pushed his body off of the tree, making his way towards Y/N. He stared down at her, his eyes lingering on hers with his intentions unclear. While the sudden closeness should've intimidated her, Y/N had grown used to it over the years. With the constant bickering between the two, she wasn't surprised by his aggression. "What? Gonna talk to me like your dad talks to you? Or you gonna beat me up huh? I wish you would pussy." She snorted, her arms unfolding as she held them up in defense. "I'm so sick of you and your big mouth." He grunted as he spun her around and grasped at her wrists. The male pushed her up against the nearest tree, pressing her face into the bark as he neared her ear. "Alright ma, you wanna keep fucking with me? Fine." He nipped at the tip of her pointed ear. "We can keep fucking.." He aired out as his free hand grasped at the side of her pretty waist.
Eywa, she could hardly contain herself as he rubbed against her ass, roughly pressing himself against her. His cock felt hard against her, the feeling being completely new to her. She groaned out, her hands digging into the flesh of Lo'aks wrist. His grasp on her was unyielding as the two made out sloppily. He was rough, assertive, and so damn hot. His little sighs and grunts had her shaking her ass for more, the pressure of his cock becoming a nuisance. She was growing sick of the same motions, and with her clit throbbing beneath her untouched folds, she was growing irate. "Fuck..you really are a pussy huh? Too scared to actually fuck me.." Lo'ak only laughed in response, amused by her display. "Can't take it any longer Mama? I knew you'd break first. Want my dick huh?" He pulled gently at her loincloth, not quite removing it. He enjoyed leading her on, teasing her as she had done to him before.
"I don't think you've earned it yet..maybe if you beg for it I'll give in." Was he stupid? Had he fallen during his hunt? Who did he think she was? Y/N whined at his ultimatum, her head shaking as best as it could against the tree. "Damn..Lo'ak you're such a punk." She breathed out as she began to squish her thighs together, the slight friction bringing slight satisfaction. But it wasn't enough, and wasn't what she wanted. "Trying to prove a point Lo'ak? Or just mad your ego is bigger than your dick?" That struck a nerve. Y/N suddenly found herself a moaning mess as the young hunters fingers pressed at her clit. He continued this motion until finally, Y/N broke. "Lo'ak please! Just give it to me..I can't take it any longer." He smirked, his fingers slipping from her loincloth only to rip it off instead. "That's all you had to say Ma.." He smirked as he aligned his cock with her pretty pussy. Slowly he slid it in, the squeeze of her gushy cunt sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. "Fuck ma..you're so warm. Mm you love this don't you?" He moaned out as he began his rough pace with her. Y/N mewled as she stood onto her tippy toes, the pleasure within her pussy growing stronger. "Ohh this slutty cunt is sucking me in so good..is this what you wanted ma? Me to fuck the attitude outta you huh? Fuck..m'feels fucking incredible.
His hand finally released her wrists, allowing her to grasp at the trees as support. All while his other hand came up to tangle into her hair, somehow finding its way to her queue. He tugged gently at it, testing the waters. Y/N only jolted in response, the combined feelings beginning to overstimulate her. "Lo'ak please..please.." She whimpered out, her eyes softening as she glanced back at him. Their eyes met, Lo'aks smug look turning into one of fascination. He wanted to see her reaction again, and this time with her entire face. He slipped his cock out of her, her slick connecting the two with a squish. "I love that face you make mama...make it again for me hmm?" Lo'ak turned her around, and lifted her legs, pulling them around his waist with eagerness. He stretched his cock back into her, earning a gasp from her as he began to fuck back into her. Lo'aks hand found its way back to her queue, giving the same gentle tug and earning another whine of desperation. "It's so sensitive. S'too much Lo..." He grunted, leaning into her neck to lick harsh bite marks. "Say it again. What you just called me.."
"Lo..!" She cried out as his thumb found her sensitive clit. He brushed over it roughly, causing her legs to spasm with pleasure. And suddenly she couldn't hold it in anymore. Her orgasm felt like being heaven itself, a fog washing over her as she rode out her high. All the while, Lo'ak chased his own high, groaning out with a clenched jaw and hurried breaths. The warm gush of his cum dripping down the lips of her cunt sent a whimper out of her. The two remained still, Lo'aks face buried in her neck while Y/Ns fingers threaded through his braids. "If I knew teasing you that much would make you fuck me..I would've done it a long time ago.."
"Shut up ma.."
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Comforting Monster Stories for the Weary Heart
Part 1 - The Gargoyle
Pairing: Monster x/& GN!Reader Relationship (can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic)
Cw: Brief/implied feelings of solitude and isolation with some fluff at the end
Word Count: ~500
A/n: Who doesn't love gargoyles, right? This little project will be my first attempt at some original writing featuring some cozy short stories that focus on monster x/& human relationships. The relationships in each story can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic in nature. Hope you enjoy them!
The clack of your footsteps is the only sound that echoes across the ancient cobblestones as you make your way home. You listen as the sounds are swallowed into the black unknown beyond the streetlights that illuminate your path. It is quiet tonight, the silence somewhat eerie, but you are not afraid. You are protected and nothing or no one can harm you.
Your nightly journey home alone in the dark used to frighten you. Your entire life you only had yourself to rely on, and if you went missing—swept silently away in the clutches of a monster—would anyone even notice? Would anyone care?
Pondering the answer to that question has always hastened your steps each and every night, but tonight as you approach the massive and imposing cathedral at the centre of the city, you feel a comforting warmth spread from your heart all the way to the tips of your fingers.
You used to be all alone, but not anymore. Not since that fateful night when you encountered a creature who was just as lonely as you were.
‘Gargoyles, ugly as they may be, are protectors.’ One of the nuns once told you. ‘Under their watchful eyes, you are safe.’
How right she was, although perhaps the well intentioned sister had not meant her consoling words to be taken literally.
Slowing your pace, you gaze up at the gargoyles. Most are arched and snarling, keeping evil at bay with their exposed fangs and claws. They are a majesty to look upon, perched on their stone pedestals. The artistry behind their creation leaves you breathless every time you bear witness to them. Not a single gargoyle is a copy of the other and each is unique in their own way. Just like human beings.
Eventually your gaze comes upon one of the central pedestals. It is vacant and a smile spreads across your lips.
He’s awake.
And no sooner do those words cross your mind do you feel a shift in the cool autumn night breeze. A gust of wind blows across the manmade path, whistling through the stone archways and singing through the branches of the nearby trees.
A large shadow passes overhead, shrouded by the moonless sky yet still distinguishable enough for you to discern the enormous breadth of his wings. As quietly as his massive form allows, the gargoyle lands close to you, just outside the reach of light.
He calls your name, his voice like the scraping of stone, rough and earthy. It’s strangely soothing. It sounds like the whisper of old parables told by the fire, now long forgotten. Or like the rumbling of thunder on a hot summer night. It sounds like…home.
“You’re here,” You smile, heart thrumming excitedly as you walk into the shadows to join him. It’s too dark to see him completely, but the orange glow of his inhuman gaze guides you into his embrace. Before long you’ve wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug and his sharp claws wrap gently around you in kind.
“I'll always be where you are.”
He squeezes you tight, nuzzling against you and holding you like you matter--like you always mattered despite everything that you've endured.
Your eyes burn at the gesture and you squeeze him back, wanting your gargoyle to know that you're here for him too, that he has and always will have at least one friend in this city full of strangers.
"You are not alone."
His words, so tender and kind, are the soothing balm your soul needed. Your hands, chilled by the night breeze and his cold skin, caress his cracked and bumpy skin, eagerly reciprocating the kindness and care he had showed you.
"Neither are you."
dividers by @/saradika
#writers#writers on tumblr#writeblr#creative writing#monster x reader#monster x human#monster x you#gargoyle x reader#jellywrites
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i can't help but wonder about the "i'm gonna marry you but i don't want kids" with gojo. because he probably would be the one to bring it up
omg im sorry this took so long but,,,,, here we are 👀 as always linking the usurper!gojo tag and the masterlist for this au
warnings: the no kids talk!
it’s hardly subtle.
he doesn’t ease you into it; he isn’t coy. he all but storms into your chambers, after dark but before you’ve snuffed the candles keeping the room light enough for your reading.
he doesn’t bother to tell you why, but you know—instinctively, because you know him and you know his advisors and you’re well used to his moods when they’ve been particularly nagging about his duties as king—what’s set him off. the indication that it’s worse than typical is that he keeps that odd eye jewelry perched upon his nose, chain gleaming yellow in the light of the flames as he stalks over to your lounging form upon the bed.
his arm finds your legs over the nightclothes you wear, wraps around them firmly to move them just enough for him to perch on the edge of your mattress. they don’t leave, even as you set aside your book—you expect him to lay his head on it, anticipating the typical song and dance of his pouting and whining as you push him away only to relent and let him hold you as you both drift off into slumber.
instead he hovers. even sitting he looms over you, hand tightening on your thigh and thumb rubbing soft, meaningless patterns through the fabric of your dressing gown that soothe the nerves set on edge by your inability to see the look in his eyes.
a beat passes. you wonder if he’s calmed.
but when he speaks it’s terse, low, with the kind of simmering rage he keeps close to his chest for only those pitiable few he despises utterly, and he dips his head to look over the frames of those onyx lenses and regard you with irises dark with something terrible.
“i will not give you a child.”
the statement bowls you over. your breath hitches, if only because of the way he stares—deadly serious,
“wh—what?”
“i will not allow you to bear my children. i might be amenable to a ward, if you so desire. but i will not seed you,” his grip tightens on your thigh, “and it should go without saying that once we marry neither will any other.”
you haven’t a clue how to respond to such a thing.
he speaks as if it’s a confession; as if he’s betrayed you somehow. he holds you like you’ll disappear, or flee—and perhaps, had he told you this months ago when you’d been flighty and diffident with his affections, your rigidity might have led you to. but it is now, and you haven’t fled yet, and your beloved is nothing if not unconventional and shameless in his eccentricity.
you ponder on that too long.
“say something,” he demands, sounding almost small.
“why?” spills from your lips without thought; not petulant, or angry, but confused. not just by him—by you. you ought to be devastated, no? you ought to be angry. you assuredly are not.
“my bloodline as it has been for generations is a scourge,” he tells you readily. “i will do everything within my power to wipe it out. therefore, i cannot have an heir. not even one.”
not even one. not a single child. the thought washes over you like the temperate water of the lake on your grounds back home, the very one you’d once played in regularly as a child. the very one your mother had once mentioned taking your own children to, someday; children who you never fantasized about, children who never had faces or names, children who you never set aside letters or dresses or trinkets for to gift on birthdays.
not even in those teenage years spent with your current betrothed, the only man you’d ever thought of kissing and caressing you, had you once envisioned a life with children. they’d only appeared once you’d been brutally introduced to reality, and had to accept the promise of a life with a rich man who doesn’t love you.
a life which your king has gallantly shattered, and replaced with something far brighter.
“i will bear the burden of prevention,” he tells you soothingly, as if your silence has been about the effort of this request. “you needn’t worry that pretty mind over it. over any of this, my queen—“
“i am not yet your queen,” you interrupt, instinct bidding you to speak where your mind remains miles away.
“my bride,” he amends, ”look at me.”
you do.
“i want you,” he says, as if it’s some known truth of the universe, written in the stars. “i want you fervently, ardently. i won’t have another. but i will not give you my children. if you cannot take that slight, then so be it.”
the emotion that has been welling within you since the first words he'd spoken has become so intense it’s impossible to listen properly. you cannot name it without ruminating; you lay beneath him, eyes widening, not quite seeing—or hearing the words he continues to say—as you let it all sink in.
but when his hands fly to cradle your face, you’re snapped from the daze, attention suddenly brought back to the man before you.
“oh, oh, precious girl, don’t cry.” cry? his thumbs wipe away tears from your cheeks. you hadn’t even realized they’d been falling. “don’t cry”—he almost laughs, yet his voice breaks—“you’ll break my heart.“
“no,” you gasp, “no, my king, i’m hardly sad, i’m… relieved.”
that’s it. you’re relieved. he’s removed a heavy weight from your chest and you hadn’t even known of it. you will not have to bear him children. the assurance floods through your veins like liquid joy. not ten, not five, nor two nor even one; none whatsoever.
“relieved?” he repeats, blinking in surprise.
you’d never even considered the possibility. from the moment you’d known of your place in this world you’d resigned yourself to the role of childbearing. only now do you realize how much you had been dreading such a thing. only now do you understand the fear, and the relief.
“i… don’t believe i want children either.” the statement feels so final it ought to be terrifying, but it settles into your bones with a tangible rightness.
your betrothed regards you in shock. his hands fall from your face—and then they latch to your body, one on your thigh again and the other behind your neck, pulling you up and flush against him as he kisses you harshly.
“you’re so perfect,” he breathes into your mouth, unreactive yet pliant against him. “made for me, just for me, i swear—“
you kiss back, making his rambling cut off in a strangled growl as he only tugs you in closer and deepens the embrace. he’s still speaking, but it’s unintelligible; praise, certainly, muffled compliments and manic devotion. he’s relieved too, you realize. foolish to think him confident in this declaration. foolish, you’re coming to understand, to think him sane in any circumstance which might take you from him.
(if you are made for him then he is made for you, surely. this relief would be impossible for any other to give you.)
he pulls away when he realizes you’re still crying. you catch your breath, blink back the tears, let him fuss over you until your voice is solid enough to speak.
despite the relief, there is lingering hesitance; lingering fear. “you say you will bear the burden of prevention, but what of the burden of blame? they will talk, as the months go by. they will call me barren, unfit to be by your side; they will demand you take on a mistress—“
“i won’t,” your betrothed snarls, grip on your thigh almost painful with how fiercely his fingers tighten, “i would never, and i’ll cut down all those who speak ill of you.”
your laughter is disbelieving, wet with the traces of saltwater. “hardly a sound plan to run a court, my king. unless its intent is for running it to the ground.”
“for you, my heart? anything. i would raze this kingdom if it spoke your name without awe.”
that shouldn’t be comforting. it ought to be terrifying. instead you reach up to hold his cheek, and his eyes flutter closed at the contact.
“kiss me again,” you command.
#ask.🌧#anon#usurper!gojo#char.🌧 gojo#mine.🌧#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x y/n
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Hi everyone, I apologize for not uploading anything. I am still writing the story but here is another part!!<3
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Part 4
Finally, she hears the careful footsteps approaching. (purposefully loud footsteps mind you) From where she is perched, she watches with big glowing eyes; pupils dilated with eagerness as she awaits his reaction.
She watches as he makes his careful steps into the clearing. He swings his head around, trying to pinpoint where she is this time, but the girl has learned. Ever since being spotted the first time, she had practiced on any unsuspecting animal to practice, and even her mother; although she overexaggerates her reactions. She slows her breaths, making sure if she moves, it is slow and aware of where they are being placed on the rough bark.
The man suddenly stops when he sees the pile of fruit; curious at his reaction, her head tips and tail curls. Strange, usually, if it were any other animal, they would immediately start sniffing the food before taking it. Does he not know how to eat? Perhaps he is slow, like the Hexapede she encountered once. Her mother showed her that animals like that Hexapede don’t last long in the jungle because they are much easier to catch than regular animals.
That worries her; she is not ready for him to be gone. Since having to leave her home, she has not seen a single being that looks like her. She doesn’t want him to leave. He can’t.
Jake is confused at the pile of fruit. If he isn’t mistaken, this type of fruit is a delicacy to eat because it is hard to find. He is unsure of why it is sitting there, although, he has a good idea of who brought it. It sat neatly on top of a large leaf, and the red/purple gleam of the fruit was very inviting to him. But he is torn. Why would the child bring the food to him? But before he could ponder any longer, his ears twitched at the soft voice above him.
While Jake pondered, the girl grew more and more impatient. He was taking too long. Perhaps he really was dumb. Unable to eat without instruction.
“Eat.”
Jake’s head whips up at the voice, being pierced with wide, gleaming eyes full of curiosity. The child was barely visible in the night, the glowing moss highlighting her tiny body. Her tail flicked back and forth, and her ears twitched at each noise from the deep jungle. But what remained still were her wide, unblinking eyes with pinpoint pupils.
It was apparent who was the predator and the prey in this scenario.
Head tilting in confusion, she points her chin down at the fruit.
“Eat.”
Jake looks down at the pile of fruit before looking back up, only to be met with an empty space instead of a little girl. She must’ve brought the fruit for him, but why? You had nothing to gain by essentially feeding him. She reminded him of the feral cats back on earth that were abandoned by ungrateful humans, born there, or lost on the streets, and how the feral mother cats would bring food for their young. It was almost as if that was how you viewed him—something to feed.
Jake smiles to himself and starts to gather the fruit, the boys would be excited, and Neytiri would be ecstatic to receive a gift from the young girl. Granted, the fruit is meant for Jake, but the child would, in turn, feed her family and give them something to celebrate.
As Jake eats with his family, he watches his boys make a mess of themselves and Neytiri chastises them to be careful. In the flickering of flames, Neytiri showed her children how to eat the fruit. How to peel it and carefully cut each piece along to already grown with the fruit. How to pluck each seed from each fruit and to put them aside to be dried in the sun the next day. Now that the meat was pulled away from the seeds, the children were quick to waddle to their circle, Lo’ak having taken the space next to his father and babbling nonsense to him. Jake felt warm, watching his budding family go through their routine. But as he watched them, he felt as if there was something missing. Strange, everything is as it usually is, but now it just seems off. It is not very strong but still noticeable. Like dirt on your body, you know it’s there but it's almost unnoticeable.
#jake sully x daughter!reader#jake sully x na'vi reader#jake sully x daughter#jake sully x daughter!oc#jake sully x y/n#dad!jake sully#dad!jake sully x reader#daughter!reader#jake sully#jake sully x reader
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The Last Door
What lies concealed on the last door of their mind palace?
"Perhaps one day the door shall yield to your touch. I hold faith that your desires shall find fruition, as they always have."
Months drift by, and on a day's journey through the palace, Will calls for Hannibal, met only by silence. He diligently opens every door, traverses each room—boarding schools, Parisian abodes, Florentine parks, Roman galleries, his mother's kitchen, Baltimore's office, a Spanish lake—yet Hannibal is nowhere to be found. At the end of one corridor, he sees the door. Tentatively, he approaches, hesitant to force entry.
"I'm going in," he declares to the air, a message intended for Hannibal's intangible senses. "If you're stuck here, I have to get in...alright?" A moment passes, unanswered. Gently, he pushes, finding the door unlocked.
Stepping inside, his heart races, anticipating nothing less than hell itself. Yet, he discovers a room. Simple, austere, dimly lit, with a solitary window and a modest bed. It appears aged, melancholic, and vacant—nothing more. Then, he spots Hannibal, perched at the window's edge, basking in the sun's gentle radiance. But this Hannibal is not as he is now; he appears much younger, scarcely more than twenty. A different type of beauty, unlike his present refined danger, but rather an angelic allure. Clad in a white tee and jeans, captivating Will, who smiles involuntarily at the sight.
"Hey," he murmurs softly, approaching Hannibal and resting a hand upon his shoulder.
No response greets his gesture; Hannibal remains fixated on the view beyond. Will attempts once more, pressing a fleeting, tender kiss upon Hannibal's lips. Still, no reaction. He observes, ponders, then, instinctively, circles him and settles onto his lap, with his arms around his neck, hoping for acknowledgment. Yet, Hannibal remains detached. Will's hands trace through his hair, his ear, then his neck, intensifying the kiss. Finally, the barest hint of response, Hannibal's eyes meet his, inquisitive yet distant.
"It's me," Will whispers, his voice a gentle plea.
A furrow graces Hannibal's brow. Perhaps this version of him doesn't recognize Will.
"Hey," Will tries again, another kiss gracing their lips.
"Love?" Hannibal responds, studying him intently.
"Yes," Will smiles, "I'm love. I missed you." Will finds solace, resting his head upon Hannibal's shoulder. "I looked everywhere for you. Are you stuck here?"
"Always so," Hannibal responds, fixated once more upon the window's expanse.
Frowning, Will maintains his position, taking in Hannibal's familiar scent enveloped in the fabric.
"What is this place? I anticipated something horrible, yet it's just a room," Will muses, running his fingers through Hannibal's hair. "There's nothing, but you."
"Yes."
A pause lingers as Hannibal remains captivated by the outside world, while Will simply clings to him, allowing the silence to persist. Then, breaking the quietude:
"You seem so different. So beautiful. I want to make love to you like this."
This prompts a reaction; Hannibal turns to him. "Love?"
Will leans in, bestowing a smile upon their kiss. "Yes, love. Can we?"
"Are you my love?"
"Yes. You're mine."
"I do not recall you, but I am aware of you."
Will contemplates whether this ensnared version of Hannibal before him mirrors the present reality or if the Hannibal he knows resides elsewhere. Encounters with alternate versions of Hannibal were rare within the palace; typically, they existed in each other's company. This version of Hannibal, however, appears adrift, bearing a hidden hurt, imperceptible yet palpable. He exudes an aloofness markedly different from the familiar Hannibal.
"I want you." Will tries again, coaxing Hannibal to recline upon the bed. Compliance follows, yet Hannibal remains unresponsive. Even when Will presses kisses upon his neck, he lies inert, his gaze fixed on an unseen horizon. Will withdraws, conceding defeat. Disappointment lingers, the yearning to experience this particular Hannibal tempered by guilt, as if imposing upon a wholly disassociated soul.
"Sorry," he murmurs, planting a kiss upon Hannibal's forehead. "You are so different. I just want it to experience you like this, see what it felt like."
Hannibal remains silent, unyielding in response.
What is this place? It looks like an attic.
Enveloping Hannibal in an embrace, Will turns his head, finding himself face-to-face with the present Hannibal.
"Oh, hey."
"Will."
"Hey. Are you okay?"
"What brought you here?"
"I was looking for you, couldn't find you."
"What did you see?"
"Nothing. Just a younger version of you. That's all."
"Just me."
"Yes. I liked you."
"Did you?"
"Not as chatty as you are now, but yes."
"It's funny how I can feel you, always, Will. No matter where I am. Across time and before you. My heart always recognizes you."
"We're timeless."
Hannibal's smile, though present, carries an unmistakable distance. Could Hannibal leave this place by himsel? Could he truly become stuck?
"I can," echoes the thought, resonating within Will's mind. "No barriers here, remember? Our minds coexist."
"You can be trapped here?"
"Why else do you think I stay at bay? I come near only to secure the door. It often creaks open. Dust from the inside stains my clothes, yet I brush it away."
"What is this place? Tell me."
"This is nowhere. A void with nothing, just me."
"Just you. What makes 'just you' so dreadful?"
"It's empty."
"An empty room, nothing more?"
"An empty iteration of myself. I can scarcely recall this version. I filled the void with something else to endure."
"Endure what?"
"I am uncertain."
"What happened within these walls?"
"I died here. And from that death, something else emerged within me."
"I thought nothing happened to you, Hannibal. You happened."
"Yes, precisely. I did. But where was I before I happened?"
"Here?"
"My mind orchestrates a meticulous order, that allows the manifestation of the 'me' you recognize. Each fragment snugly ensconced in its rightful place."
"I want to see you in totality, every fragment."
"I, too, lack acquaintance with every fragment. Some are dangerous."
"More dangerous than those already known? I find that hard to believe."
"The familiar parts pose a threat to others. The unknown ones are a danger to me."
"Is something about Mischa? Or what happened after your parents?"
"Nothing like that. These are familiar traumas, digested and benign now. What lies here is of a different nature."
"Such as?"
"I'm not sure. It feels innate, not a chance occurrence."
"Is there… something wrong in you?"
"You make it sound as if it's a disease. But it doesn't bear that resemblance. It's more akin to an inherent spiritual wound."
"How does it affect you emotionally?"
"It seldom does. I don't grant it much allowance. But when it does intrude, it feels like a void, a vacuum pulling me in, threatening to engulf me within nothingness."
"I want to see you. Let me see you again."
Hannibal understands his intent. Unsure of how to summon it at will, yet somehow, in their mental haven, Will's desires often find realization. Abruptly, Hannibal feels himself receding, and before Will stands the younger iteration of Hannibal again.
"Hey, there," Will's softened expression reflects as he gazes upon the notably different and delicate Hannibal.
No response comes; Hannibal remains fixed on the window.
Gently cradling Hannibal's face, Will implores, "Could you talk to me? Please?"
Finally meeting his gaze, Hannibal murmurs, "The love."
Will chuckles softly, finding himself beside words, yet relishing the purity in the way this version of Hannibal regards him. "Yes, I am the love," he affirms, planting a tender kiss upon Hannibal's forehead. "And you are my…the love," he continues, smiling warmly.
"Why did you leave?" Hannibal finally inquires.
Confusion etches itself onto Will's eyes. "I…didn't?"
"You left. Before our existence… Before all."
"I don't remember that."
"Why did you separate us?"
"I didn't, Hannibal. I'm not sure I understand. Can you show me? Can we uncover this memory together?"
"It is here. In this room. This is our memory."
"I've never been here; this place isn't familiar."
"There. Outside."
Will glances at the window Hannibal had fixated upon. The sunlight floods in, but there's nothing else to see. "There's nothing here, Hannibal."
"I'm not Hannibal."
Startled, Will turns swiftly. "What? What do you mean? Of course, you are. I know you, recognize you."
"You compelled this form upon me. I was love. You were love. Now I'm this, and you're that."
Will feels the onset of a headache, a soft tremor, like an earthquake within the palace's confines.
#lamb writes#hannigram#nbc hannibal#hannibal#will graham#hannibal lecter#murder husbands#fanfic#mind palace
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