kazuhareads

Latest Posts by kazuhareads

pls :(

Don't You Worry

Smau: in which they get with the woman they told you not to worry about after you two broke up lol Warnings: angsty ig, kinda funny, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiromi

© pet_foolery

princess treatment w/ateez texts

princess treatment // ateez

a/n: this my millionth “thanks for your patience anon, and I hope you enjoy!” on GOD I’m gonna catch up with requests and post within a few days of receiving them at some point

warning(s): very little swearing

princess treatment w/ateez texts

princess treatment // ateez

a/n: this my millionth “thanks for your patience anon, and I hope you enjoy!” on GOD I’m gonna catch up with requests and post within a few days of receiving them at some point

warning(s): very little swearing

JJK MEN LINKS

TOJI FUSHIGURO

He couldn’t help himself after the shop clerk flirted with you

So deep!

p*ssydrunk

he’s so mean ):

finally giving you that baby you’ve been begging for

NANAMI KENTO

he’s so fucking huge

office pet

what was he supposed to be doing again?

brat taming

helping nanami stay in shape (:

GOJO SATORU

you were a brat so gojo’s making you do all the work ):

“just sit back and let me take care of you”

naughty girls get punished

time to make an heir!

first time seeing each other after a long mission

GETO SUGURU

before the cult meeting

his favorite way to relax after a long day

in front of all his followers

his only exception to hating non-sorcerers <3

first time without a condom ):

SUKUNA RYOMEN

Punishment

training

sukuna’s favorite pet

open wide!

2 hours in…

CHOSO KAMO

choso’s punishment):

he loves to please you

he just wants to feel you as close as possible

he’s desperate for you ):

choso’s payback

Pt. 2 here

enjoy (: remember you have to be logged into twitter (:

HIII I love ur smaus and the way you write the characters are just ,,,,,jdjdjdjjs anwyas,, could u mayhaps pls do a Bakugou x romantically oblivious reader?? I just think the dynamic would be hilarious LOLL !! ty and hope u have a great day/night!! :)) <33

wait, are you flirting? | k. bakugo

bakugo is very obviously into you. you think he's just a strangely intense friend.

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — TASK #3

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | mc’s best friend yu haibara, insufferable asshole fushiguro toji, best boy gojo satoru GENRE: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 12.2k WARNINGS: underage drinking (don't do this, kids), probably the most serious chapter of them all, mentions of self-doubt and inadequacy

series masterlist | previous | next

— TASK #3: HOW TO SURVIVE A BALL WITHOUT COSPLAYING AS A COURT JESTER (OR, ALTERNATIVELY, HOW TO AVOID SAYING TOO MUCH WITHOUT SAYING NOTHING AT ALL)

(Deep down, you know that tonight, the night of the Yule Ball, marks the most pivotal turning point in your relationship with Kento. Either the curtains will rise, casting a spotlight on the two of you, or - and this is less appealing to you - the velvet will fall, signalling the end of the show, of the experience, of you and him. You like to think you’re something of an optimist, especially when it involves Nanami Kento. Okay, maybe you should rephrase: you’re only an optimist when it comes to him. Anything else is a glass half empty.)

As much as you wanted to cuss Kento out for splurging on a gown that you’ll never wear again, especially for a one-time event like the Yule Ball, you haven’t gotten the chance to. Being Head Boy means shouldering a fraction of the responsibilities that come with preparing for it. He’s been booked and busy - so much so that you’re wondering if he’s fallen asleep in his dorm after exhausting himself to the max.

(In retrospect, you have to give him credit where credit is due. He made sure you got something to wear knowing that he wouldn’t be able to accompany you to Hogsmeade the next day to try again. As usual, Kento’s three steps ahead of you at all times.)

You’re fidgeting with your dress as you stand outside the door to the common room, contemplating if you should go up to the Ravenclaw common room to check on him. You’re accompanied by the two trusty goblins, stoic as ever, flanking you like two terrifying vinegar-spouting guardians.

The memory of Toji getting rained down on resurfaces and you stifle a laugh, clamping your hand to your mouth immediately. You glance around, worried that someone will see nothing more than a girl standing next to a huge barrel in a shimmering blue gown, giggling to herself. If that happened you’d actually wish the goblins activated then, just to really drive the humiliation home. (All or nothing mentality.)

The corridor is still, however, no foot traffic, no noise from the kitchens - though you know Sukuna and the other house-elves are in there cooking up a storm - and no one going in and out of the Hufflepuff common room. It’s probably because everyone’s already flocked to the Great Hall, dressed to the nines, in silks and satins and velvet, their hair neat and tidy, polished and primped to perfection, shoes shined so bright they reflect light off of them like a disco ball - long story short, everyone going to the Ball tonight looks sophisticated, and they’re all probably inside the Hall already, finding the perfect seat, drinking pumpkin juice and snacking on the food.

Haibara had left with Shoko earlier, but not before teasing you about your date being Kento, or, in Haibara’s lingo, lover boy. You’d rolled your eyes, throwing the both of them a sharp look that did little to mask the fluttering in your stomach. They’d just laughed, enjoying watching your face turn red (and you trying to hurriedly disguise it). Finally, you’d shooed them off, telling them they’d miss out on getting a good table if they continued to stand here and poke fun at you.

It’s quiet now.

You shift your weight onto your right foot, then back onto your left, wringing your hands together as a soft anxiety prickles at the back of your mind. 

Has he overworked himself?

If he has, you’re not surprised - Kento has a bad habit of taking on way too much, pushing through with nothing more than sheer determination. He always manages, always gets everything done with that unshakeable composure of his that he wears like a second skin (but not with you, you realize), but he rarely realizes the effects it’ll have on his body in the aftermath, the toll it takes on him.

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. You should go to him. (And, if he’s asleep, you’ll leave him be, because he needs it.)

You turn to the barrels, your fist raised to rap the code.

“I’m not late, you know. I’m on time.”

You freeze where you are, because you recognize the voice at your back. You fight back a smile, attempting to school your expression into one of indifference, before turning to face him.

It’s all for naught, because the moment you set your eyes on him, your breath is taken hostage.

Unfair. It’s unfair just how handsome he looks. You don’t even think the word ‘handsome’ embodies what you’re seeing right now. Kento’s always been infuriatingly striking, of course - that’s old news - but this? This is something else entirely, and your brain is trying (and failing) to keep up.

His dress robes, a rich and vibrant midnight blue that compliments the tones of your gown like drops of ink bursting like fireworks in water, like a beam of sunlight exploding into fractals as it passes through glass - fine on their own until they are touched by their opposite, making them ethereal - fit against him perfectly, tailored to his frame with an elegance that makes him seem almost regal. As if he truly belongs in a castle, awaiting his princess.

The robes in their entirety embody him, understated but undeniably refined (you’re pretty sure this is all calculated - Kento’s calm yet deliberate nature at work), with sleek white accents at the cuffs and collar that give them a subtle contrast, making the blue pop even more. The fabric flows effortlessly, like it’s made for him, a crisp, smooth look that screams of simplicity and luxury.

But no, that’s not what takes your breath away, not what makes your heart beat in your chest like the sound of a thousand drums in unison. No, it’s the tie. The tie that you sewed, the tie that Toji said was the ugliest thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and the tie that you eventually learned to be ashamed of.

The tie that Kento is wearing with a casual confidence, like it was never a question of whether or not it was going to be a part of his outfit. (You remember all the times he’s defended the necktie’s mere existence when all you wanted to do was burn it to ashes.)

If you were one of the Champions, he’d be your number one cheerleader.

You swallow hard, trying to push that thought away as your eyes trace the way the bright, warm, sunshine hue of the fabric stands out against the otherwise dark tones of his attire. The dark spots, like ink, dotting it make the yellow pop out even more, drawing attention to it, neatly knotted around his neck. 

But, the thing is, it looks good on him, and you’re not sure how to process that.

You shake your head, trying to focus. It’s like he’s got you in a spell (fitting, considering where you’re standing), completely consuming your mind, making you notice every single detail about him.

Your eyes slide to his hair in an attempt to stop gawking at his clothes and how good they make him look, but you realize too late that it’s just a poor move, because now you’re obsessed with the way his hair is neatly pushed back to expose his forehead and the way there’s still that hint of natural messiness, a slight disarray that elevates it all the more. 

You purse your lips together, because how can someone look so much like a deity among mortals? And, your mouth turns dry when you meet his eyes, how can the aforementioned person be looking at you like, well, that?

When you’d turned around, he’d been wearing an almost imperceptible smirk, but now, now you notice the subtle shift in his expression as his eyes slide over your figure, taking in your delicately placed headband (matching with his necktie), the gown draped over your frame, the slight dusting of makeup Shoko had insisted would make your eyes pop, and the way you’re just standing there, looking out of your depth, holding onto your wrist like it’s a lifeline.

You notice his lips part slightly, his brows relax, the faintest flicker of warmth in his sweet eyes, like a match being struck, lighting his world on fire. It makes your chest tighten with something you don’t want to name.

He steps toward you with the same measured composure he always carries around with himself, his gaze sweeping over you yet again with quiet intent, like he’s committing all of this to memory. Like he’s memorizing you, admiring you like you’re a painting in the Louvre, like you’re a work of art that’s been carved out of marble.

His hand lifts, reaching to fix something on your shoulder - a stray thread, you think, or, and this is a reach, an excuse to touch you. He’s so close to you, and his scent, clean, sharp, reminiscent of the ocean, envelops you and floods your senses. When his fingers graze your skin, it’s like you’ve been set aflame, and you shiver at the contact.

When he pulls back, he smiles at you. “You look beautiful.” His voice is even, but you catch something else, something low that makes your stomach flutter. “Breathtaking.”

It’s as if your vocal chords are finally retaliating against all of the stupid things you have ever said in your lifetime, because now - the one moment where you really want to reply back to him - you find yourself at a loss for words.

He glances down at his sleeves, adjusting his cuffs, and you see the tension in his movements - as if he needs a moment to collect himself.

Say something, please.

You shake your head again, slightly, trying to get your mind out of the gutter. (Who knew you just needed to see Kento in dress robes to forget how to talk? If Haibara knew about this it’d be over for you. He’d never let you live this down. Or, in fact, knowing Haibara, if he ever caught you running your mouth ever again, he’d simply make Kento dress up just to render you speechless. He’s creative like that.)

“You look very handsome,” you say, taking his hand in yours. It’s just instinct at this point. His warmth is like a balm to all of your worries, and it clears your head forthwith (and it works such wonders that for a moment you wonder if you’re suddenly thinking in 4K). “It’s unfair how you make anything look good. Even the necktie,” you admit begrudgingly.

His lips twitch. He laces his fingers with yours and says, “I told you you didn’t need to change anything about it. It’s perfect.” He holds his arm out for you to take. When you slip your arm through his, he shoots you a glance, and you swear that you hear him whisper something under his breath as the two of you make your way down the corridor to the Great Hall.

“Just like you.”

Everyone’s paired off, gently swaying to the delicate, sweeping melodies of the string orchestra, the music filling the air like a soft, enchanting breeze.

Anticipation swells in your chest. This is the moment of truth.The culmination of three weeks of practice under the moonlight, you and Kento honing every step and spin associated with a waltz, away from prying eyes and the weight of expectation (you weren’t that excited to attend the dance practice sessions led by your head of house solely because you knew you’d only end up embarrassing yourself).

Kento holds his hand out to you. “Dance with me?”

You bite your lip, your heart flipping in your chest, but you take his hand.

(You really hope you don’t trip over your own feet and crash headfirst into the table with the punch bowls. You’d have to use Obliviate on everyone in the room if that happened.)

He leads you onto the polished floor, looking as calm and measured as always, as if (you hope) his stomach isn’t doing somersaults and his mind isn’t calculating every single possibility that could happen, good and bad. You’re pretty sure you don’t look as composed as he does. In fact, you know what you look like - pupils blown wide, your hand weakly gripping a sliver of fabric as you walk, and your lips pursed together tightly (you don’t trust yourself not to say something to ruin the mood).

The world around you fades into a blur, narrowing down to him, and only him. For a moment, to steady your beating heart, you just gaze at him. His eyes, always so introspective, so sharp, so full of knowledge, like he’s seen almost everything there is to see in the entire universe, are soft now, relaxed, focused on you with a quiet intensity - as if nothing in all the galaxies could ever compare to you.

He’s smiling, and it’s small, but not invisible, holding a warmth that only you get to see - and you’re more than okay with that. He smiles like this when it’s just the two of you, reserved just for moments like these, moments when there’s no pressure and you can get lost in the ebb and flow of the music, of each other, of your hearts beating in sync.

His hand on your waist, holding you as if you’re something to be cradled with care, feels like an anchor in a storm. There’s something different about how he is holding you now compared to when you were practicing before. Before, his touch was protective, controlled - serious. Now, however, it’s softer, unguarded, like he’s allowing himself to have this, and tender, as if he’s silently letting you know just how much he is cherishing this with you.

You exhale quietly. You’re realizing that he’s more than just a crush - he’s been way more for a while now. This, plus every other thing he has done within the past weeks, is the final nail in the coffin.

You should say something. Anything.

Tell him you really love him?

You cringe inwardly. No, that’s too much too soon. You should just-

His touch pulls you from your thoughts, urging you to live in the moment, to relish in him, in dancing with him, in being with him tonight.

Suspended under the bronze glow of the chandeliers, sparkling like stars in the night sky, and wrapped up in the precise harmonies of the orchestra, your heart flutters, you wish, oh, how you wish that this moment could last forever.

As he guides you, maintaining eye contact throughout the entire waltz, you find that you’ve seen the various sides that come with Kento, the main dish - you’ve seen him serious, stressed, upset, stressed (again, but more intense) and, most commonly, composed and stoic, but this, right now? You’re getting to witness a side of him that’s more human, more open, filled to the brim with nothing short of pure affection. It makes your chest tighten with an emotion you can’t place (or something you just don’t want to name right now).

His eyes search yours, and you look back at him and hope that his body language skills are above average (he’s Nanami Kento, of course his skills are outstanding), because you have no words to describe how you’re feeling, how much you love this, how much you adore him.

His hand brushes against your gown, his other hand entwined with yours, and it’s all there, in the way he holds you, a silent understanding between the two of you that doesn’t need an explanation.

You’re so lost in him that you don’t notice what’s happening around you. You don’t notice the way Toji’s been roped into dancing with one of the professors, looking utterly miserable as he moves across the dance floor, how Haibara keeps stepping on the train of Shoko’s dress, how she simply laughs and slaps his shoulder, how Hogwarts’ champion Suguru is not-so-subtly glaring at the Durmstrang champion’s date, the girl from Gryffindor whom Sukuna had been talking about, as she lets him guide her - you barely notice Gojo casually sipping on some pumpkin juice whilst leaning against a table, or Utahime with one of her housemates near the food, laughing at something. (Okay, you noticed that one. But only because you were curious to see who Utahime’s date was since it definitely wasn’t Kento.)

“Looks like our practice wasn’t in vain,” Kento muses, his fingers flexing against your waist, sending heat running up your spine.

You tilt your head up at him, humming in response. “I lost sleep for this,” you tease - it’s the only way you can get yourself to think straight, by bantering with him, “so yes, I should hope so.”

His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he guides you into a smooth turn. “I don’t do anything halfway, you know. I had to keep up with you,” he says, his tone level but his lips betraying a hint of a smirk.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” you say, fighting a smile as you roll your eyes. It just comes so easily, this back and forth with him, the way he matches your wit, the way he looks at you with amusement and awe. You narrow your eyes at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “You didn’t just practice with me, did you? Tell me, Nanami Kento, have you been secretly twirling around your dorm room at night?”

He exhales sharply, a mix of exasperation and mirth. “No,” he says, drawing the syllable out, “but I did consider replacing you with a mop once. Less... Hm, how do I say this?” He looks up at the bewitched ceiling, painted a starry night sky, before meeting your eyes again. “Distracting.”

You gasp dramatically, pulling back as much as his hold will allow. (You have to put some distance between the both of you before he realizes just how much that affected you. God forbid he actually starts hearing your heart thumping in your chest. He can already see the blush dusting your cheeks. You can’t handle a double whammy.)

“A mop?” you ask, incredulous. “You were going to replace me with a mop?”

His hand slips to the small of your back, flexing against the fabric as he draws you a fraction closer. (He’s not a fan of distance.) “A very cooperative one,” he deadpans. “Unlike someone who keeps stepping on my feet.”

This time you really gasp, hitting his shoulder softly. “That was one time-”

“Six times, actually,” he corrects, smoothly.

You frown at him, lips pursing in defiance. “Right, well, I hope you and your beloved mop have a wonderful evening together,” you huff, pretending to pull away from him.

But he doesn’t let you go. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, he twirls you, effortless, catching you back in his arms with an ease that steals your breath away. His voice drops lower, softer. “Unfortunately for the mop, I asked someone else to the Yule Ball and I intend to spend the rest of the evening with her.”

Your heart stutters so badly in your chest that you’re praying you won’t need jumper cables, but you don’t give him the satisfaction (even though it’s clear as day on your face) of seeing you flustered. “How gentlemanly of you, Kento.”

He smirks, rare and fleeting, but it brightens everything around you. “I try.”

(Pay attention, because this is where it all goes downhill. But think of it this way: what’s a ball without a little bit of chaos and a lot of misplaced dignity, right? (You’re in denial.))

The music draws to a close, the melodies crescendoing into silence. You hear the musicians taking a small break - reaching for a snack or a drink before they’re to start their next number. The other couples surrounding you pull apart from each other and, after curtsying and bowing, they make their way off the dance floor.

You know you’re supposed to curtsy after the dance comes to an end, but you abandon all common sense and wrap your arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. It’s not graceful, it’s sure as hell not refined, but it’s real.

He stiffens, taken aback, and you worry for a moment that he’s going to pull back and tell you that you should be curtsying, but then you feel his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth and his scent, and you melt.

A curtsy simply doesn’t cut it; it doesn’t let him know how special tonight has been, doesn’t let him know that if you could do it all over again you would, that you wouldn’t be caught dead with anyone else as your partner - that no one else compares to him.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The hum of the ball fades to the background. It’s just you and him, standing in the center of it all, wrapped up in each other.

Something warm blooms in your chest. It opens like a rose and spreads to every inch of your body, filling you up with something golden and light, making you feel like you’re floating. Like you’re on cloud nine. It’s, simply put, warmth and comfort rolled into one huge flower, planted inside of you, engulfing you in a quiet happiness that lingers in your fingertips, in the way that your heart is no longer erratic, but steady and sure.

It spreads like fire in the cold, chasing away every single doubt you’ve ever had, every hesitation, leaving only the undeniable truth you’ve tried so hard to ignore all this time - that you are exactly where you’re meant to be.

With him.

You sigh, more of contentment than anything else, and pull back. He’s smiling, really smiling. It looks good on him (what doesn’t?), because for once, he doesn’t look like he’s bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. He just looks happy - unguarded, at ease, like he’s allowing himself to simply exist without having to prove it.

And you, you realize with a jolt, you’re the reason for it.

You smile back, unable to help yourself. He takes your hand and leads you off the dance floor and towards one of the tables where Shoko and Haibara are seated already, munching on something you can’t make out just yet.

“You should smile like that more often,” you say, nudging him slightly. “Not the barely-there, stoic thing you’re always doing.”

Kento huffs a quiet laugh, tilting his head as he glances at you. “Maybe I would, if you were around to see it.”

Your breath catches. The words are casual, spoken so simply, but they carry a weight - maybe more than he even realizes. Or maybe he does. Maybe he does and he’s testing the waters, seeing if you’ll acknowledge what’s lingering in the air between the two of you.

You should know better by now. You constantly bait him, and when he gives you an answer, you’re always caught off guard. At this point, you’re just making a fool of yourself for seeming so surprised when he gives you exactly what you’re looking for.

You want to tell him that you feel it. It’s not exactly rocket science, is it? The tension is so thick that it’s practically visible, and yet you dance around it as if it will burn you the moment you touch it.

But maybe you’re not afraid to get burnt.

Before you can say anything, before you can make sense of the sudden, overwhelming feeling in your chest-

“Oi, Captain!”

Your heads snap toward the voice near the punch table at the same time.

Gojo Satoru stands there in navy blue dress robes lined with gold, elegant and sharp, still leaning against the edge, a glass in his hands, raised in the air as he beckons for you.

You cast Kento an apologetic glance. “Sorry,” you mutter, extracting yourself from him. “I’ll be back.”

He nods, then makes his way towards the table while you slide over to Satoru, curious to see what he’s up to. Maybe he’s realized that you don’t need to be his date for the two of you to be recognized for your Quidditch skills.

You lean against the table next to him, crossing your arms. “Where’s your date?”

“I thought you were my date,” he replies, taking a sip of his juice.

You glare at him, and he raises his free hand in surrender. “I’m kidding!”

The two of you settle, a comfortable silence permeating the air as you resort to people-watching. You can see the heads of the other two schools seated at the table assigned to staff, straight-backed and proper as ever.

You tear your eyes away from them before you psych yourself out. Maybe they’ve already noticed you and Satoru. Maybe they haven’t. Maybe they never will.

Satoru pokes your cheek. “What are you frowning about?”

You smack his hand away, your bottom lip jutting out at his audacity. You let out a sigh. “Do you think we have a shot at getting into the Nationals?”

The moment the words leave your mouth you realize just how childish they sound. Desperate, like you’re crawling on the ground, begging for scraps. You shouldn’t have to grovel for someone else’s validation, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to be recognized for your talents.

Satoru, for his part, simply shrugs and takes a sip from his juice. “I saw them watching you with Nanami earlier,” he says. His gaze drifts to a certain blond seated next to Haibara, no doubt entertaining one of the latter’s delirious stories about how he (allegedly) crossed paths with a Peruvian Vipertooth when he went home for the holidays last year and barely lived to tell the tale. Kento’s gaze is polite, never giving away anything more than required, occasionally nodding in agreement or arching a brow in dubiety (which you’ve noticed him doing at least five times within the last thirty seconds).

You find yourself smiling.

“I think we really do have a shot,” Satoru continues, yanking you from your haze. “They looked at me when they entered the Hall, too.”

Your mouth goes dry. If it’s really true, and they give you a referral, that’s your one way ticket to becoming a pro-Quidditch player. And who better than to be playing alongside none other than Gojo Satoru?

The mouth-watering prospect of having your dream come true curls in your stomach, and you feel like you’re going to throw up.

“Woah, hold on a second.” Satoru glances at you, noticing how queasy you suddenly look. He reaches for the bowl of pumpkin juice and pours some into a glass before shoving it in your face. His blue eyes are wide open, as if you hurling in front of everyone would be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. (You don’t blame him, but he could’ve been more subtle about it.) “Here, drink this, you’ll feel better.”

You scrunch your nose as you take the glass from him, immediately hit by the sharp tang of something that’s definitely not pumpkin juice.

Slowly, you lift your gaze and shoot him a knowing look - there’s only one person who could possibly have had the balls to pull this stunt and it’s him. You’re not even remotely surprised.

“Relax, I wasn’t going to let you drink it without telling you,” he says. He rolls his shoulders before his lips split into a wide, mischievous grin. “I spiked them with Firewhiskey before the Ball started.” 

Satoru doesn’t meet your eyes, staring straight ahead, sipping his drink with faux innocence. You don’t look away. The gall this boy has, honestly.

Your eyes find Kento, looking like he can only handle one more story about Haibara’s antics, and you contemplate telling on Satoru. You tear your eyes away from your ever-responsible date - Head Boy Nanami. “Tell me you’re not letting the younger students drink this,” you hiss, your voice lowered as you tilt your glass, watching the orange liquid swirl ominously.

He lifts a shoulder, nonchalant as ever. “That’s why I’ve been standing next to this table the whole time.”

Okay, so he has a conscience. Great to know. That’s very important information, because you were beginning to doubt it for a moment.

You drag a hand down your face, then squint suspiciously at the drink.

What the hell, sure. You can handle your liquor. Probably.

You need something to help you relax and not overthink about every single thing until you lose your mind anyways.

You bring the glass to your lips, and take a sip.

The taste of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg floods your mouth, followed immediately by a slow burn that makes you wince.

But that’s it.

You scoff.

Light work, no reaction.

You turn to Satoru, unimpressed, and point to the bowl of spiked juice. “Are you sure you did it right?”

He follows your gaze, his lips twitching upwards in mild amusement. “You’re aware that you need to take more than one measly sip for it to really hit, right?” He scoffs, crossing his arms, his glass dangling precariously from his fingertips. “Down that whole thing, and the next thing you know, you’ll be in Fushiguro’s arms.”

Your response is immediate, like a knee-jerk reaction solely at the mention of Toji Fushiguro (whose eyes you’ve been avoiding the entire time), and you shove him.

Caught off guard, Satoru stumbles, nearly losing his footing before he catches himself on the table’s edge. He blinks at you in momentary betrayal before the two of you burst into hysterics, drawing the attention of a couple of students nearby.

You catch your breath, holding onto his shoulder to steady yourself. You can always count on Gojo Satoru to be up to some sort of mischief at all times. It’s equal parts frustrating and comical, seeing how you’re always somehow drawn into the eye of the hurricane whenever you cross paths with him.

You squint up at Satoru, who’s trying desperately to stop his fit of laughter. You exhale sharply, suddenly determined to prove to him that he didn’t spike the pumpkin juice as well as he claims he did.

“Watch this,” you announce, downing the rest of the juice in your glass in one go.

Satoru stares as you grimace with the taste. Then he smacks your shoulder, throwing his head back as he laughs. “Atta girl, welcome to the good side!”

You roll your eyes at him. “I’m going back to Kento,” you say, elbowing him one last time before you make your way to your date.

“Don’t trip on the way over!” he calls behind you. You raise a hand up half-heartedly in response.

You’re not going to trip. What, does he think you’re some rookie when it comes to drinking? (You are.) That you can’t handle your liquor? (You’ll find out tonight.)

Gojo Satoru does not play around when it comes to drink spiking.

It hits you faster than you expect - one moment you’re weaving your way through the crowd, making you way back to Kento as you seriously doubt the legitimacy of the Firewhiskey Satoru’s used, and the next, your head feels light, the room tilting ever so slightly, your body buzzing with warmth. It’s like a delayed explosion, spreading throughout your body, from your chest to your legs to the tips of your fingers, until every inch of you feels light and floaty.

You pause, blinking slowly, desperately trying to recalibrate, but your brain has other ideas - like running on a ten-second delay. The realization creeps in like molasses - Satoru got you good.

Spurred by the sudden need for vengeance (or, at the very least, a show of good sportsmanship where you shake Satoru’s hand and tell him he does indeed know how to spike a drink), you whip around (a mistake), eyes scanning the Hall for the lovable menace. But you’ve turned around so quickly that now it’s like someone shook marbles around in your head and you’ve just gotten off a very violent merry-go-round that you can barely make out anything besides the sea of people who have seemingly swallowed him whole, his white hair nowhere to be found.

You grumble. How does someone that tall, that obnoxiously loud, disappear so easily?

Great, now you have to fend for yourself in your rapidly deteriorating state. Perfect.

You take a slow step forward. Then another. Then another. Then- oh, wow. Walking is a lot harder than you remember. If only you had your broomstick right about now. Everything feels a little too soft, too slow, too delayed, like you’re floating above your own body. And then you see him.

Kento.

He’s moving toward you, cutting through the crowd effortlessly (or maybe people are parting for him because he is, after all, Head Boy, and they’re worried he’ll write them up for obstructing his way), his eyes locked onto you with a sharpness that makes your stomach flip.

“Are you alright?” he asks when he reaches you, his hands finding your face with a tenderness that you immediately melt into. His palms are warm, grounding, his thumbs tracing the heat blooming across your cheeks. “Your face is red.”

You lean into his touch without thinking, your body practically melting into his hold as an indulgent, stupidly lovesick smile stretches across your lips. “It’s called… blush,” you murmur, voice slow and syrupy. “You should try it.”

His lips press into a flat line, like he’s contemplating what he should do with you. You swear you can hear the gears turning in his head. Or maybe that’s the murmur of the crowd. You’re not sure. But Kento doesn’t need to ask the question you know he wants to. He already knows the answer to that. (Any genius could figure it out in two seconds.)

He pinches the bridge of his nose, pulling his hands away from your face, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “How much did you drink?”

You hold up two fingers, making a pinching gesture to show him how much was in your glass. You start out small, then it becomes one inch, then two, then three- wait, no, that’s not right. You frown at your own fingers as if they have gained sentience and betrayed you.

(How rude of them.)

“...A responsible amount,” you reply finally, though your sluggish, uncoordinated movements paint a contradicting picture.

Kento sighs, pressing two fingers to his temple in an effort to ground himself. “Let me guess. Gojo?”

“Mm. Gojo. Satoru. Gojo Satoru,” you confirm solemnly. You had to say his name multiple times to make sure Kento knows who you’re talking about, because what if he’s thinking about some other Gojo? That won’t do.

Wait. You’re hit with the realization that you’ve just snitched on Satoru.

Shit, shit, shit.

You grab Kento by the collar and pull him close, so close, in fact, that your noses touch. “It wasn’t Satoru,” you say quickly. “Trust me, it wasn’t. It was…” You search about the Great Hall frantically, looking for a victim before learning that you don’t have the guts to throw an innocent person under the bus. "...Another Satoru."

(For the record, if you were a different person, you might have said Toji. But you’re not that person.)

Kento’s hands cover yours. You swear his lips quirk up ever so slightly.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Gojo didn’t do it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Don’t ever tell him I snitched on him.”

Kento raises his brows as if to say, Did you just hear yourself?

(You didn’t.)

Then, with no warning whatsoever, you giggle. You don’t even know why, but it bubbles up uncontrollably, and suddenly, everything is so, so funny.

Kento closes his eyes for a brief moment, as if mentally preparing himself for the ordeal ahead. When he opens them again, you’re gazing up at him like a love-struck fool, like he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen in your whole entire life (he just might be). The fond exasperation in his eyes are clear, even through his deadpan stare.

Your eyes are wide and gleam with mischief, lips parted in an amused, breathless grin.

“Alright,” he mutters, prying your hands from his collar and adjusting his grip to steady you. “Let’s get you some water and-”

“You have really pretty eyes,” you murmur, cutting him off, tilting your head slightly as if to get a better view of his- wow, they are pretty. Gorgeous. 11/10. Then, as if struck by a great revelation, you lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “Did you know that? I bet you didn’t know that. A lot of people don’t know about that, actually.”

He exhales through his nose, his grip steadying you before you tip over completely. You don’t miss the way the tips of his ears flush crimson, and it makes your grin widen.

“I wasn’t aware,” he says dryly. “You’re the first person to tell me about this.”

You gasp, clutching his wrist like he’s just uncovered some deep, dark secret. “That’s because only like, one percent of the population know about it. But that doesn’t make it untrue, Kento! You have-” You wave your hands around, as if you’re trying to pull words out of thin air like some sort of linguistic magician, before settling on, “-historically significant eyes.”

He gives you a flat look, though the way his lips twitch gives his true feelings away. “Historically significant?”

You nod solemnly, like this is just another day of telling people the truths of life. You grip his forearm for support as the world continues to revolve, slow and syrupy and thick. “Yep. If someone painted a portrait of you, they’d have to put a warning on it. Something like, caution: do not gaze directly into the eyes unless you are emotionally prepared-”

“You’re so drunk,” he interrupts, unamused.

You scoff. How dare he cut you off, especially while you were spitting nothing but straight facts? “Am not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You straighten up, attempting to look dignified, but instead, it backfires, and you sway slightly and end up grabbing onto his robe for balance. “I’m perfectly fine, actually,” you insist stubbornly, scrunching your nose. “It’s just that Satoru - Gojo Satoru-” you jab a finger in the general direction of where you think he might be after ensuring that you’ve clarified which Gojo you’re talking about (there’s only one in the entirety of Hogwarts) “-gave me some… some spoked pumping juice-”

Kento’s lips definitely twitch at that. He snakes an arm around your waist to hold you up, pulling you close so that you lean against him. “Spoked what?”

You frown, trying to piece the words together in your foggy mind, unsure of what you’ve mispronounced. “Spoked- no, spoked pumping- wait, pumped spiking-” You pause, your frown deepening as you shake your head, frustrated. “Whatever. The point is, I’m not drunk.”

“You can’t even say it properly,” he sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“Well, he spoked it too lame,” you huff, completely ignoring Kento’s words to focus on the real issue here.

Kento looks like he wants to laugh. “He what?”

You stamp your foot on the floor. “I said, he spoked it too lame.” You pause, pouting whilst deep in thought. You turn to him, pointing a finger. “Write that down.”

“Write… what down?”

You spread your arms, exasperated. “Spoked too lame! Shakespeare would kill to write bars like that.”

Kento stares at you for a long moment, probably contemplating what he should do with you. (His date has gone off the rails.) With the patience of a saint and the resignation of a man who has accepted his fate, he simply says, “Let’s get you some water before you start challenging people to duels next.”

You gasp. “Oh my God. We should duel. I should duel Satoru. Gojo Satoru.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Coward.”

“Drink your water.”

And, despite his exasperation, despite the fact that you’re stumbling and slurring your words, he keeps a firm yet gentle hold on you, like it’s second nature, like it’s exactly where he’s meant to be. And somewhere beneath the veil of intoxication, your heart is beating as fast as ever - but it’s not because of the alcohol.

(The rest of the night blurs into a hazy, dreamlike mess, most of which you barely remember. If you really try, you can piece together some things - flashes of laughter, the warmth of Kento’s hand in yours, Satoru’s obnoxious cackling from somewhere in the distance (you assume he’s staying away in case Kento sends him to detention for bypassing the charms and smuggling in contraband - Utahime’s greatest nightmare). You think you remember dancing with Kento again (or, at least, attempting to), knocking over someone’s glass, and passionately debating with one of the ice sculptures about the ethical responsibilities of enchanted objects.

But one thing is constant the entire night - him.

His presence is like an anchor in a storm, always there, steady and grounding, no matter how much the world around you spins. His voice is a calm reassurance cutting through the chaos, the fogginess of inebriation. His touch is a gentle reminder that you’re not alone in this hazy whirlwind - that he won’t let anything happen to you. Even as your memory becomes patchy and everything fades to nothingness, overtaken by the influence of the Firewhiskey, his warmth never leaves your side.)

It feels like you’ve been hit by a herd of Hippogriffs.

Your head is pounding, as if someone’s inside your head banging on a gong, and you groan, shifting between the sheets of your bed. You open your eyes reluctantly, trying to gain your bearings.

The events of last night come to you in flashes - bits of conversations lost to the recesses of your mind, laughter, dancing, and a dizzying, overwhelming feeling of warmth. But it’s all scattered like a puzzle waiting for you to put the pieces together.

(You’re not too ecstatic about that.)

Then there’s Kento, like a beacon in the fog of your memory. You remember the way he’d looked at you with those sharp eyes of his, assessing your insobriety, softening as he noticed your unstable gait, how he’d caught you, a sturdy arm around you to keep you upright before you could fall. The touch of his hands against your cheek, concern and worry laced into the press of his fingers against your skin, the sound of his voice, steady as ever and overflowing with anxiety, pulling you back to the moment, keeping you grounded.

You press a hand to your forehead. You’re slightly embarrassed. Did one glass of Satoru’s Firewhiskey-pumpkin juice concoction really flip your world upside down, or are you just very intolerant when it comes to alcohol?

Ugh. You’re officially a lightweight.

As sweet as the memories you can vaguely remember seem, you don’t even want to know how much of your dignity you lost last night, especially in front of Kento? The last thing you’d wanted was for him to have to babysit you, which is, if your faulty memory can be trusted at all, precisely what he did for the rest of the night. You’re not surprised if it was him who got you back to the Hufflepuff common room before handing you off to one of your housemates, ensuring you got to your dorm safely.

You run a hand down your face, groaning into your pillow.

Great, just great. This is exactly what you needed.

You silently curse Satoru and his entire bloodline. You’ll deal with him later. Right now, however, you think Kento deserves an apology for having to take care of you instead of being able to enjoy his night, and you’re not too thrilled about trudging out of the common room to go and face him.

You roll onto your back, still buried beneath the sheets, the heat holding you hostage, keeping you locked in place.

The first rays of morning sunlight filter in through the partly drawn curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. It’s quiet, too quiet, and you wonder just what time it is. It’s the type of silence that makes everything feel still and unreal, as if the world is holding its breath.

The constant ticking of the clock on the far side of the room is the only sound piercing the blanket of silence that’s settled over everything. You squint, trying to make out what time it is - seven in the morning.

A quick once-over of your dorm tells you that your roommates are both still asleep, probably exhausted from the events of last night.

You begrudgingly sit up, forcing yourself to leave the comfort of your bedsheets, and gather yourself.

If you’re going to have to talk to Kento, the least you could do is look presentable while doing it, instead of looking like you’ve gotten run over by the Hippogriffs and then the Hogwarts Express.

You rub your bleary eyes as you make your way to the bathrooms, already trying to come up with something to say to him. Your opening line.

So far, all you have is, Hi.

(You’re done for.)

Nanami Kento always wakes up at six in the morning, no matter how much has happened the night before. You’re pretty sure that even if he was absolutely hammered he’d still wake up early, like clockwork, because it’s practically muscle memory to him now. 

You can’t relate.

That’s why, even after waking up at seven, you only end up dragging yourself to the Great Hall two hours later, your stomach grumbling, begging for sustenance.

All the decorations from last night’s Yule Ball have been stripped away, leaving behind the familiar towering windows and the enchanted ceiling reflecting the cold, cloud-covered morning outside. The Hall, though usually bustling with chatter and the clatter of breakfast plates, feels oddly subdued today, with barely anyone else in there besides yourself and a few Slytherins and Ravenclaws congregated at the same table, probably because everyone’s still recovering from the events of the previous night.

You trudge towards the Hufflepuff table, stifling a yawn as you rub at your eyes. The scent of toast, eggs and warm porridge drifts into your nose, and you immediately feel your sense sharpen - food will always work wonders on you. (You’re ignoring how hypocritical your stomach is behaving - it has the audacity to twist at the thought of eating anything substantial right now when it’s literally telling you it needs food. Tch.)

You settle for tea. Tea sounds manageable.

As you drop on the bench, resting your head on your folded arms, your cup of tea steaming next to you, you run through what you’ll tell Kento when you finally get up and seek him out.

It’s so embarrassing. You have a penchant for getting into worst case scenarios whenever you’re around him. It’s like the two of you together are some kind of magnet for your misfortune.

A shadow falls over you.

“You look happy to be awake today.”

Your blood runs cold. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The smooth, familiar cadence of his voice is unmistakable.

You groan inwardly, your day ruined. Kento always has a way of knowing exactly what you’re thinking, which is probably why he found you first. Now your whole equilibrium is off. You had planned to seek him out, but instead, here he is, casually upending your routine.

None of this stops your heart from skipping a beat, the memory of his warmth from last night echoing in your mind, so much that if you close your eyes you can almost imagine you’re there once more, drunk out of your mind (on one glass, no less), and in his careful, steady arms.

“And you look disgustingly put together,” you mumble, peeking up at him through bleary eyes. Sure enough, Kento looks pristine as ever, despite being dressed casually, in nothing but a soft shirt and jeans, his hair let down for once, slightly tousled, as if he didn’t bother to fully brush it. (At first, you’re confused to see him out of uniform, despite you not even being in one, until you realize it’s the weekend.) There’s not a single trace of exhaustion on his face. It’s almost as if he didn’t stay up late last night dragging your very intoxicated self back to your dorm.

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. You stare at the way the strands flop back against his forehead, slightly damp, as if he’d just come out of the shower and half-heartedly dried it.

He slides onto the bench to sit next to you. “Drink this,” he says, placing a cup in front of you. The steam rising from it carries the faint scent of ginger and honey.

You raise an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Something to help with the hangover you’re clearly suffering from.”

You huff, burying your head back into your arms before pointing at your cup of tea, now lukewarm from sitting idly for so long. “I already have my poison here.”

You hear the sound of your cup being moved away, replaced by the one he brought. He puts his hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

Reluctantly, you lift your head. He’s not going to let you off the hook, is he? You purse your lips doubtfully, then take a cautious sip. (What is it with you and guys giving you drinks that make your throat burn?)

Despite the harsh bite of the ginger, the honey follows close, smoothing everything over, as if gently undoing the ginger’s damage like an exasperated mother. It soothes the dull ache behind your eyes. You hate to admit it, but it’s actually good.

“You’re so responsible that it makes me sick,” you grumble, before taking another sip.

Kento hums in agreement, sipping on the tea he’d taken away from you.

For a moment, the two of you sit there in silence (whether it’s comfortable is up for debate considering you’re still wrestling with the mortification of last night’s debauchery, wondering if you should apologize to him for being a total disaster at the Ball), watching the other students yawn and stretch and filter out, most likely going back to bed or their common rooms to lounge around.

The more you drink the ginger and honey concoction, the more you find last night’s events trickling into your mind, as if someone has opened a tap, but hasn’t turned it all the way open. Drip, drip, drip. The dancing, the warmth of Kento’s hand on your waist, the way he held you steady when your legs threatened to give out - it’s all coming together.

You cringe, refusing to think about how many other things, no doubt appalling, happened after that. Still, you should just get it over with and apologize to him. The Yule Ball was probably the one night he should’ve been allowed to relax, and you’d gone and fallen into a state of befuddlement, leading to him having to tend to you the rest of the night.

It wasn’t fair to him, and the guilt eats at you.

You open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to the punch.

“So,” he says slowly, shooting you a curious glance, “how do you feel?”

“Like I drank a glass of Firewhiskey and pumpkin juice and handled it like a real champ.”

He laughs. A real, deep, wholehearted sound that resonates through his chest, rich and unguarded, like the warmth of sunlight breaking through the thick layer of clouds on a cold morning.

You’re momentarily distracted from your thoughts by the sound of his laughter. It’s not something you’ve never heard before, but there’s something comforting in hearing it now. You watch the way his shoulders shake just slightly, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, little crow’s feet, and you almost forget you’re supposed to be feeling miserable. Almost.

Still, the sight of him looking so uncharacteristically carefree (though you’d argue that it suits him) soothes some of the residual embarrassment clawing at your insides. 

If he’s laughing, that’s got to mean that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t a complete disaster last night. That or, he just finds your choice of words particularly hilarious.

Even so, this is Kento. Ever-patient, ever-composed, ever-kind Kento. The same Kento who had, undoubtedly, spent the entire night making sure you didn’t accidentally fall face-first into a bowl of treacle tart when he should’ve been acting as carefree as possible.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table with a dull thud. “I’m so sorry,” you mumble into the wood. “You should’ve just let me pass out in the fountain or something. You know, the way someone with an ounce of dignity would.”

Kento smiles and shakes his head. “Right, because nothing screams dignity like being fished out of a freezing fountain in the middle of December.”

“Technically it’s almost the end of December,” you mutter.

“My point still stands.”

You groan again, turning your head to the side so you can glare at him without lifting it from the table. “It would’ve been poetic.”

“It would’ve been hypothermia, and then I’d have to carry you to the Hospital Wing again.”

The memory of that day crashes into you like a tidal wave. (All your efforts at compartmentalizing it into a box and hoping your brain naturally incinerates it are worthless.) You’re transported back to that day, weeks ago, when you, in a moment of pure, unfiltered insanity, had mustered the courage to ask Fushiguro Toji to the Yule Ball. When he’d looked disgusted and called you a Mudblood. When you’d almost got into a brawl with him. 

Then there was Kento, trying to restore order, and you, purposely shutting down your body to save yourself from the sheer, unadulterated embarrassment of him seeing you wild and untamed, ready to beat someone up.

This, of course, had been counterproductive, because when Haibara had told you that he and Kento had been the ones to carry your unconscious body to the Hospital Wing you wished you had just stayed conscious at the Great Hall and faced his look of disappointment instead of looking like some sort of damsel in distress. (God knows what you looked like passed out. You hope your mouth wasn’t open and your tongue hanging out.)

You can almost feel your soul leaving your body. You swear you can see it jumping ship, escaping somewhere, anywhere, other than here.

Kento watches your dawning horror with mild amusement, his lips twitching as if he’s barely restraining a smirk. “Wait, are you just now figuring that out?”

You hit his shoulder. “No, I knew you took me to the Hospital Wing,” you huff, trying to turn your head to hide how hot your face has become. “I just, I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to. You didn’t have to.” You bury your head in your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

Kento tilts his head slightly, regarding you with those hazel eyes of his. “It’s not embarrassing. Besides, what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble into your hands. “Leave me there? Drag me behind a tapestry and forget about me, maybe?” You peek through your fingers. “There were so many options.”

He sighs, a long-suffering but undeniably fond sound, as he looks at you. “Of course, because leaving you behind a tapestry would’ve been the rational, humane thing to do.”

“Exactly,” you say, nodding solemnly. (Now we’re getting somewhere.)

His lips twitch. “Okay, and what if someone found you before you woke up?”

You lift your head slightly from your hands, blinking at him. The answer is common sense. “Then that’s their problem.”

Kento pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are unbelievable.”

(He’s not wrong. In fact, you can be insufferable, too. But maybe, maybe he doesn’t need to figure that out just yet. Or, and you hate to admit it, he already knows.)

You grin. “You knew what you were signing up for,” you point out. “You’ve been dealing with me for weeks now.”

And that is what does it - because when you say it, you mean it lightheartedly, an offhand remark at best. But Kento suddenly looks at you, his eyes soft, like you’ve struck something raw inside him, like you’ve wedged something unspoken between the two of you, teetering on the edge of acknowledgement, and you can’t help but feel a strange, raw vulnerability in that moment.

(Oh, brother.)

You shift awkwardly under his gaze, your face still unbearably warm. “What?”

He exhales slowly, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

You squint at him suspiciously, now curious to know what’s going on in that pretty head of his, but he doesn’t budge under your scrutiny. Instead, he rests his elbows against the table and continues to drink his tea, seemingly lost in thought.

You grumble, dropping your head back onto the table. “This is going to sound stupid-”

“It won’t be.” He sounds so sure, so confident.

“You didn’t even wait to hear what I was going to say,” you sulk, sitting upright now. Your head no longer feels like it's been submerged underwater, moving in slow motion while something behind your eyes tries to split your head in half. His drink worked.

He lifts a shoulder. “Nothing you say is stupid. Not even,” and he leans in close, your shoulders brushing, “when you were rambling about spoked pumping juice-”

You lurch forward, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt in desperation as the memory of you clinging onto him with no shame while you struggled to enunciate something as simple as ‘spiked pumpkin juice’. “Stop.”

He doesn’t.

“-which, I must say, was an enlightening moment for me. I didn’t know you were capable of such creative linguistic innovations.”

You clutch your head in your hands, letting out a soft, pained whimper. Everything you remember about last night is the equivalent of you digging your own grave. “I need to be Obliviated. Can you do that? Just selectively remove everything after I got drunk, please.”

As expected, Kento doesn’t dignify your plea with a response. He watches you with that same careful, unreadable expression he wears when he’s thinking too hard about something. Like a few minutes ago. It unsettles you. Not because it’s unusual, but because you can tell he’s wrestling with something important.

And it has something to do with you.

You don’t want to press him, so you lean your forehead against his arm.

The air between you two thickens with something unspoken, something that fills the space in ways words can’t reach. You’re not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. The Great Hall is now empty and eerily silent except for the two of you. It’s almost as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving the two of you locked in this quiet bubble of uncertainty and revelation.

“Ugh, I hate myself,” you murmur quietly to yourself. All the times you’ve been humiliated (mostly your own doing) in front of him float to the surface of the ocean in your mind. You’d be okay if he wasn’t there - you’re always getting into some sort of peculiar situation by default anyways. The fact that your crush is there to witness it all is just the final nail in the coffin.

His hand comes over yours, and you hear him, feel him pause before he says, so softly that you’re not sure he even says it, “That’s unfortunate, considering how much I like you.”

Your breath hitches, and you raise your head, because you’re struggling to comprehend that he, Nanami Kento, Head Boy, just told you he likes you.

That familiar warmth blooms inside of you, spreading around like cherry blossoms in the wind. Your heart swells, because isn’t this what you’ve waited for him to tell you for so long? Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted?

You haven’t realized until now just how much the weight of your self-doubt has been consuming. Every misstep, every embarrassing moment, feels amplified when Kento’s around. And yet here he is, not judging you, not pointing out your flaws as you’re so used to doing to yourself. Instead, the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s touching you, his hand on yours - he’s acknowledging something you never thought anyone would care to see: the genuine, imperfect, human side of you.

His words sink in slowly, like a soft wave that licks at the edges of your consciousness. How much I like you.

You should feel overwhelmed. You really should. Maybe even giddy. But the truth is, there’s a strange sense of calm in hearing him say those words. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear them, from him, from Kento, how much it means to you that the person who you’ve always admired from afar, adored from a distance, always untouchable to you, but always someone you wanted to get close to, is finally revealing something you thought you might never know about him.

I like you.

You’re still processing his words, still floating in the warmth of his admission, but the way your chest flutters tells you everything you need to know, beating your brain to the punch. This isn’t just some casual expression of affection. No, because that’s not Kento’s style. He never says things he doesn’t mean. Anything he does, anything he says - it’s always deliberate, calculated. This is him, telling you something deeper, something he’s been carrying for, you realize with a start, who knows how long. 

You should say something.

Reply to him.

But no, your body betrays you, and all you can manage is a shaky breath, your thoughts a malevolent swirl of emotions that threaten to spill over if you so much as attempt to articulate them.

As the silence begins to stretch between you both, Kento moves again. His hand, still warm and steady, shifts to cover yours fully, enveloping it in a soft but reassuring grip. You can feel the steadiness of his touch, and it grounds you, pulling you from the storm when the floor feels like it’s about to give out beneath you.

The intensity of his gaze never wavers as he leans in close, his voice barely above a whisper, yet somehow it cuts through the tension that’s built between you.

“You’re so worried about how you look to others,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. Solid. There’s an almost tender frustration in his tone, like he’s been watching you struggle with this for far longer than you realize. (You realize that his people-reading skills are truly excellent, because now you’re wondering how many times he’s seen something happen to you and watched you shrink into your shell, especially around him.) “But I don’t care.”

His words knock the air right out of your lungs. You open your mouth to respond, but you’re not sure what to say. You want to argue that of course he must care, because everyone cares, and they remember, but the words get caught in your throat as his thumb brushes against your skin, drawing a soothing line over your pulse. It’s a simple touch, nothing more, nothing less, but it speaks volumes, calming the anxious thoughts racing through your mind.

You’re still reeling from the shock of his confession, still tangled in the weight of his quiet (yet incredibly loud) assurance, when he continues, his voice warm and patient, as if he’s making sure you know just what he means.

“Look,” he says, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in ever closer, his presence coveting you. You meet his eyes, holding his gaze as tightly as you can, like flowers gripped in one’s hand. “When are you going to realize that I don’t care about any of that?”

Your heart feels like it’s going to explode.

His question hangs in the air, and for a moment, everything goes still. The words seep into your heart, filling the cracks and crevices you hadn’t realized were there.

And then, finally, the weight of everything you’ve been holding in - everything you’ve been trying to hide - starts to lift.

But even so, you can’t seem to get the words out. You want to explain to him, to make him understand why you’re always so self-conscious with him, why you can’t seem to let go of your insecurities, even if it seems like they’re nothing much. The fear of embarrassing yourself, of being seen for who you truly are, has always been a shadow at the back of your mind. Especially when it comes to him. But here, in the soft light of the morning, Kento is offering you something you never thought you’d receive from him - acceptance.

You sigh. “I make a fool out of myself whenever you’re-” you begin to protest, your voice barely louder than a murmur.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, cutting you off. “Yeah, and that’s what makes you human,” he says with an affectionate grin, his eyes sparkling in that way they always do when he’s trying to make you smile, and he takes your chin in his hand and lifts it upwards, ever so slightly. Your pulse speeds up. “Besides,” he adds, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, “it wouldn’t be you if you weren’t doing something incredibly odd.”

And just like that, the tension begins to dissipate, like a storm passing over after a long, drawn-out battle. Kento’s words, simple as they are, wrap around you like a soft, fuzzy blanket. There’s no judgement in them, no pressure to be anything other than what you are. He’s not looking for perfection; he’s not asking for you to change. In fact, it’s like he just wants you to keep being you. (Humiliating and mortifying moments and all.)

That’s enough for him.

You blink. The weight of his words finally settling into your heart. The tidal waves that have been thrashing about inside of your mind for so long begin to tame, and for the first time in a while, you feel a sense of peace.

He likes you.

And maybe, just maybe, nothing else matters.

You look at him properly, and see not the Head Boy who has everything figured out, or the crush who is majestic and good at everything he does (although this still stands), but the person you’ve come to know - steady, patient, and unexpectedly tender in his own stoic way.

And it’s then that you really realize something. Kento doesn’t like you because of who you pretend to be, or because of the version of yourself that’s always trying to keep up appearances. He likes you because you’re you - the version of you that’s messy, and vulnerable, and imperfect (and always stuck in some impossibly troublesome situation). The version of you that makes mistakes and doesn’t hide behind a facade of control.

The version of you that, in the three weeks you’ve gotten closer to him, has let your walls down and allowed him to see everything. The version of you that he’s come to care about.

You exhale slowly, your chest lighter than it’s been in a whole while, possibly since the moment the Yule Ball had been announced.

When you meet his gaze again, you don’t feel the need to say anything grand or profound. You don’t need to explain yourself or apologize for anything.

Because, for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can be yourself, that you’re worthy of his attention, that you’re enough.

You smile - a small, timid thing, but one that’s full of more words than you could ever articulate yourself.

“Guess I really am a little oddball, huh?” you say softly.

He chuckles, his eyes softening as he meets your gaze. “A little. But that’s why I like you.”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, allowing yourself to bask in his presence. You lean against his shoulder while he traces patterns along the back of your hand.

“You should’ve told me sooner,” you say, nudging him.

He hums, then looks at you, his lips pulled up into a smile. (Oh, he looks so handsome. He looks like a deity came down and sculpted him with their bare hands.)

“I was waiting for you to catch up.”

You laugh softly. Of course he’d say that. It’s so on brand for him. Little does he know how slow you can be when it comes to reading signals, which is why you’re glad he straight up said something.

(If you’re being honest, you were aware that Kento liked you, because there’s no way someone just kisses you on the cheek, or on your head if they’re a friend. You just never knew if he liked you as much as you liked him. But now? Now you’re not afraid to risk it and put yourself out there for him.)

It doesn’t stop your heart from racing - but it’s not from anxiety, but rather with a fierce longing, a desire you didn’t realize was so strong until now.

You lean back slightly, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze fully. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his, and for a moment, you swear time stops. You can feel something in the air, heavy and palpable - the tension, the anticipation, the realization that everything is about to change between the two of you. More than it already has.

“Kento,” you whisper. “I-”

He shifts before you finish, his face drawing closer to yours. His expression is soft, like he’s trying to memorize every little detail of your face, like he’s always wanted to know you in the most intimate way possible.

You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest like someone banging on a bass drum, the world narrowing down to the two of you.

He’s so close that you can feel his breath ghosting your skin. His hand, still clasped around yours, tightens slightly, but not enough to hurt. It’s like he’s giving you a second, some space to decide, to make this moment yours as much as it is his.

“I’ve liked you since Year One,” he admits softly, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again. There’s a quiet sincerity in his words, a vulnerability you haven’t seen before. “I just-” He pauses, searching your eyes as if he could find the words he wants in them. “I didn’t know how to tell you, and you’ve always been a little ball of sunshine, shining brighter than ever, and I just convinced myself that I could sit back and be content admiring you from a distance.”

His hand cups your face. “But I can’t.”

Your heart flips at his confession. You’d never known, never suspected that all this time, while you were struggling with your own feelings for him, that he’d been silently carrying his own. And for you no less.

But now, it makes sense - the way he’s always been so patient with you, always there, always so understanding, accepting.

Your chest is suddenly too full to contain all of your emotions. The ache that’s been growing in your heart for so long, the longing, the hesitation - it all fades away in that one moment of realization.

You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this.

You can’t resist any longer.

With a quick breath, you lean forward, your body moving on its own accord. Your lips brush against his, tentative at first, testing, probing, giving him a choice. But then, something shifts. It’s as if the world aligns, the planets all align, everything falling into place in the blink of an eye. His lips press into yours with a softness that’s almost dizzying, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever known.

His hand cups your face gently, holding you in place, keeping you with him. You feel the warmth of his touch spread through you, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the most tender way, as if he’s trying to commit the feel of you to memory, just as you’ve been doing the same with him.

It’s… everything. It’s like flowers blooming after a harsh winter, it’s like the waves of the ocean carrying a message in a bottle to its destination, like the way the snow falls silently and softly, creating a blanket of comfort.

When you finally pull away, both of you breathless, you look at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss, your heart racing in your chest. His expression is a mixture of awe and something deeper, something that makes your face heat up.

“You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel this way,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, as though the words are more vulnerable than he meant them to be. “I never thought… I’d be here, with you.”

You smile softly, tracing his jawline with your fingers, and you lean in again, this time with more confidence.

“Well, I guess you don’t need to be a Champion to win,” you whisper before kissing him again, this time deeper, more certain of what you both feel.

He hums in agreement against your lips, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

And as you kiss him, you realize that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something real. And for once, you don’t have to worry about how you look, or if you’ll mess up, because this? This is right. This is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Right here, with him.

And for the first time, you don’t care about anything else.

A/N: thank you so much for reading this chapter! i'm so sad it's almost over, with one more chapter to go, but it's truly been a wild ride! i have to give @gojover credit for the entire 'spoked pumping juice' sequence, because of a typo she made while texting me. gave me a streak of inspiration. (art by elitamasan on X)

Not Just Anybody | baby daddy!sukuna x f!reader

summary: on the rare occasion that sukuna takes his nephew out to the park, he notices another kid with blush pink hair— a baby to be exact. he tries not to stare too much, but it’s hard not to, it’s a rare hair color. it’s not until the baby’s mother takes her out of the swing set and back into her stroller when he realizes why you ghosted him almost 2 years ago.

genre/warnings: hidden child trope, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, mood board

notes: im very excited to announce this upcoming one-shot as a part of @indiewritesxoxo friday night flicks event! the release date is still tba and im limiting the tag list to 50, but i’ll definitely be giving updates throughout the writing process ❤️

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Preview:

Sukuna wasn’t very obsessed with the thought of having children, that desire continued to dwindle down after his nephew turned 4 and is now all over the fucking place. He doesn’t mind watching him, but with each year it's becoming more difficult trying to get the kid to focus and listen to him. 

“Yuji.” The man barks out, beginning to scold the boy because he immediately started running across the street the moment the crosswalk sign turned on for them. “I told you to hold my fucking hand– get over here.”

“Oops, sorry!” Yuji starts to skip back. It’s almost insulting how unworried he is when it comes to Sukuna and his temper, but he’s used to it by now. He reaches out to hold his uncle’s hand– even having the audacity to swing it back and forth. Sukuna just lets him because he ends up feeling bad whenever he yells at Yuji while he’s happy. 

He guesses the one thing that’s gotten easier when it comes to watching the little crackhead is that he can now finally take him to the park. He’s able to run all that unnecessary excess energy off, making mid-afternoon to dinner time easier because he just eats and naps until Jin comes to pick him up. 

Yuji’s especially excited today, they're going to a new park that’s just down the street from Sukuna’s new house. It was a nice neighbourhood too, Sukuna already knew the place was going to be like Disneyland for the kid. 

“Uncle! Look!” Yuji yells out to him.

He’s been looking this entire fucking time, why are children like this? At least Yuji’s slightly better than most, immediately flipping under the monkey bars like a pro after receiving his Uncle’s nod of approval. 

“Good job, Yuj.” He says in return. Jin should really take him to a parkour gym one of these days… maybe get him checked for adhd too while he’s at it. 

He continues to watch the boy until he suddenly hears some baby’s laughter on the other side of the playground. It reminded him of when Yuji was a baby, always squealing over something, even if it was something as simple as ripping a piece of paper in half. It was cute. 

He tried to drown out the noise, but this kid was having the time of their life, so he eventually looked in the direction of where the laughter was coming from. He’s genuinely surprised when he sees a little baby girl with fluffy pink hair. It’s a rare hair color and outside of his family, he’s only seen less than a handful of people that naturally had it in his entire 27 years of life. 

She couldn’t be older than a year old. Her mother– or nanny, this neighborhood has a ton of them, is kneeling in front of her and gently pushing the swing back. Every time she pushes the swing back, the laughter gets louder.

The lady eventually picks the baby up and smothers her with kisses… the same way you used to smother him with kisses, almost 2 years ago. 

And the moment you turn around and place her back in her stroller, it becomes very apparent as to why you completely ghosted him 1 year and 7 months ago. 

Yes he’s kept track, you were the best fuck of his life.

“You fucking bitch.” He murmurs to himself as you begin to walk off with the child that is without a fucking doubt his. He quickly grabs his phone and calls a close friend, one that’s a little too good at finding people's personal information. 

“Hey what’s u–”

He immediately cuts Uraume off and cuts straight to the chase. “I need you to find someone’s address for me.”

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tw: death, 18+ only: sukuna is very protective over his little wife.

“Woah, she’s hot!”

That was the first comment. SUKUNA knew then he wanted to kill this man.

“Shit, look at her.” The vulgar stranger whistled, his lustful eyes trailing the curves of your body. “I hope I can get five minutes alone with her in the bathroom.”

Sukuna swallowed a sip of his dark liquor.

He and this stranger were the only two individuals at the gathering sitting on the couches instead of mingling with the others. It was the perfect spot for him to keep an eye on you, his sweet little wife, but him alone. This man? Who dared to join Sukuna on the couch and pour himself a shot of whiskey?

He was going to die tonight. Sukuna was certain of it.

Sukuna turned to face one of the bodyguards standing beside the couch — not that Sukuna needed any protection. Silently, he gestured in your direction, and the bodyguard immediately understood Sukuna’s wordless command.

The stranger watched the interaction take place. He watched the guard approach you and guide you over to the sitting area, and he smiled wildly.

“You’re bringing her to me? You’re a good man,” he said.

Sukuna took another sip of his dark liquor.

When you arrived, a kind smile on your face, Sukuna put his glass down on a nearby table and patted his lap twice.

Happily, you took your seat, and his large hand rubbed your hip.

Oh, the man was stunned. Angry.

“Hey, I called dibs on that bitch first,” he spat.

Sukuna watched the corners of your lips fall as the man continued on, on, and on. During his ramble, Sukuna whispered in your ear, “Close your eyes and cover your ears, girl.”

You did as you were told, though it did little to muffle the sound of the gunshot that came seconds later.

The party guests were silent for a moment, but after observing you in Sukuna’s lap, a gun in his hand, and an unfamiliar dead body bleeding out on the couch, they were quick to return to their conversations.

After all, Sukuna owned this building. This party was his. And this wasn’t the first time he had to murder someone on his kindhearted wife’s behalf.

“Hey,” Sukuna, who was aggressive with every other soul except for you, spoke softly. “I’ll cheer you up when we get home, pretty girl.”

With him, that could have meant watching reruns of your favorite show with you, or him sloppily licking at your clit until you came repeatedly.

More than likely both.

-> To have found you was the world's regret, not mine

trueform!ryomen sukuna x reader

summary: born with two too many limbs and faces, he was abandoned, left for the nature to bury him in a grave at the mere age of six. apparently, there was one enemy to the nature of the world, who seemed to go against every rule of survival; you.

warning/s: heian era, smut at the end (skipable), sukuna has two dicks, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink, praise and degrading kink, overstimulation, aphrodisiacs, angst, mentions of blood, nearing death (no actual death though), sukuna's villain arc, he was a monster you'd never despise, growing up together, they were both doomed from the start, fluff so i don't end it all, sukuna using you as a weight for training

a/n: i have no words. this man awakens something inside of me.

The rumors had spread like wildfire.

The child born with too many eyes, too many limbs, had devoured his twin in the womb. A demon cloaked in human skin, they whispered. He was evil incarnate, an abomination that would only grow stronger if left unchecked. But killing him outright would be a sin too great for their souls to bear. So they left him to rot. On the desolate side of the country, where even the air could be considered poison, they abandoned him.

They thought they'd washed their hands clean.

They thought starvation would take care of what they couldn't.

But death didn't come as quickly as they had hoped.

Sukuna was nothing more than a husk of a boy now, his four arms limp at his sides, his ribs threatening to pierce through his skin with each shallow breath.

Nature, just as cruel as mankind, had left him no mercy.

And then you appeared.

"Hi,"

The sound was soft, almost too soft for his dulled senses to catch. He barely mustered the strength to crack open one eye, a faint glint of crimson meeting yours.

"What?" he rasped.

You didn't answer right away, instead stepping closer to the monster that the land itself seemed to despise. There was no hesitation in your movements, no fear, no disgust.

"You.. you're just like me," you murmured.

Sukuna's lower right eye twitched, barely enough to take you in. You were as battered as he was—maybe worse. Wounds marred your body, some barely crusting over due to the lack of vitamins, others oozing sluggishly with infection. Your skin looked like it could rip at any given moment, stretched too thin over bones that jutted out in sharp angles.

You looked truly pitiable.

But Sukuna didn't care. Or at least, that's what he thought.

He was going to die anyway. Forming a bond would be useless.

He scoffed, his head lolling back against the harsh, cracked tree he was leaning on, waiting for death to take him away at the mere age of six.

"We're both dying,"

You said what he couldn't, spoke his mind instead of plastering him with questions.

You were younger than him, yet knew such harsh reality to come.

Your lips quirked in something resembling a smile, though it faltered under the weight of your exhaustion.

The boy hummed in return.

With that, Sukuna let his eyes fall shut, deciding to fade out the world— and you— with it.

Hours later, a sharp scent cut through his haze.

Sweet.

Fruit.

His eyes snapped open. He turned his head and found you kneeling beside him, holding a piece of overripe fruit out to him.

"Eat," you simply said.

He snarled— or at least tried to— but his voice came out weak and hoarse, "Don't… pity me."

Your brows furrowed, frustration taking over you. Without a word, you leaned closer, your small hand pressing against his chest. His eyes widened, alarm breaking through his mind.

"What are you—"

Before he could stop you, you raised the fruit to his stomach mouth. Its sharp teeth parted instinctively, and before Sukuna could refuse again, you fed him.

Your fingers brushed against his canines, but you didn't flinch. You didn't so much as blink as the beastly maw devoured the offering, juice dribbling from its corners.

His lower eyes narrowed, glaring at you even as the sweet taste spread across his tongue.

"Stupid brat," he muttered, but his voice lacked any true hatred. Towards you, that is.

You didn't respond, only settling back into your spot beside him, already reaching into a cloth bag for more.

"Wh-what's your.. ah- your name?" you mused as you revealed another fruit to him, guiding it to his stomach.

Unlike him, the maw ate gratefully.

He seemed to think, his body relaxing at the feeling of it getting taken care of.

Truthfully, the boy didn't have a proper name. He was named Ryomen due to his two faces— that was all to it.

He grunted, "Sukuna."

You smiled, repeating the name. With a grin, you revealed your name to him.

And surprisingly, he did the same thing.

He repeated it.

This became your routine.

You, a ghost of a child, scavenged for what little life had to offer. Sukuna, the boy they had condemned as a monster, became your charge.

Each day, you'd sneak into villages, weaving through the shadows like smoke. You stole food, medicine, anything you could carry with your frail form, and brought it all to him.

You hardly ate yourself.

No one knew who you were, only that you'd often show up and steal relentlessly.

"That stupid brat! Don't let her get away next time; she needs to be punished properly!"

"Sinning at such a young age is so unfortunate. May she find the right path."

"—there's no right path for her! The devil's captured her soul— we should finally burn this brat for good!"

Sukuna could say the same about them.

Those 'saints' who left you with infection-littered wounds.

Those 'saints' who chased after you for simple fruit.

A little girl, with more bones than meat.

Was Sukuna really the disgrace of the world when this was the way other people thought of innocent life trying to survive?

Whatever. He didn't have the time to think about it.

Not when he'd hold you with his lower arms to stop your squirming.

He discovered reverse cursed technique at a very young age, which became good use. He'd heal you, acting as if he couldn't hear your sobs.

Sukuna's touch wasn't gentle, nor was it kind, but it was efficient. His hands, rough and calloused despite his young age, pressed against your frail frame, glowing faintly with cursed energy as it stitched together your wounds. He worked silently, his expression unreadable, but his lower eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of something foreign. Something he wouldn't dare acknowledge.

"You cry too much," he muttered, his voice gruff as if to mask the faint twinge of unease your sobs caused him.

—that, unfortunately wasn't a lie. You'd cry a lot. So much, the beast wondered when you'd ever run out of tears.

But in no sense were you a dramatic little crybaby. You'd cry a lot, but not often. When you did, you usually couldn't stop it anymore, and it would go on for hours— the monster had no idea what to do in that case. He figured he wouldn't kill you for the simple act, since you were so useful.

But that weeping would go on his nerves. It replaced the warm feeling in his organs— the one sitting slightly beneath the sternum— with a cold one. It'd feel like it was clutching, singing a melody of helplessness.

That must've been his nerves, he figured.

You were annoying him, he figured.

You sniffled, your thin fingers clutching at his wrist. "hurts," you whimpered, your face streaked with dirt and tears.

And there it was again— that feeling. Something in his chest was crinkling together.

"Then stop getting caught, idiot," he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. He focused on his work, forcing himself to ignore the wetness in your eyes. "Be faster. Smarter."

"I am fast," you argued weakly, your lips trembling, "they're just... mean."

The feeling in his chest was getting worse. Sukuna frowned, it almost resembled to actual pain.

A rare snort escaped him, bitter and sharp. "The world's mean. Get used to it."

You didn't respond right away, your small body trembling under his hands as he finished patching you up. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost inaudible. "Why do you help me then? If the world's so mean?"

Sukuna froze for a moment, his hands hovering just above your skin. His crimson eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his jaw tightening.

"Because I don't like broken things," he said simply, his tone cold and dismissive. "they're useless."

You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. "Then why not let me die?"

He didn't answer, couldn't answer. His lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled his hands back, the glow of cursed energy fading.

"You didn't let me die either. Now shut up and eat," he snapped, shoving a stolen piece of bread into your hands.

You obeyed, gnawing at the stale crust despite how it scratched at your throat. You were used to it by now.

Sukuna leaned back against his usual tree— the one he almost died on— his multiple arms folding across his chest. He stared at you as you ate, his gaze deciphering, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn't even want to admit existed.

"You're too small," he muttered after a while, breaking the silence.

You looked up, crumbs clinging to your lips. "Huh?"

"You're weak," he clarified, his tone blunt, "pathetic, even."

"Gee, thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"But," he continued, ignoring your sarcasm, "you're still alive. That means you're stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for your own good."

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "And what about you? You're alive too."

He smirked faintly, a sharp, cruel thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's because I'm stronger than them. Stronger than everyone. I just haven't gotten the chance to prove it yet."

"Then why didn't you leave?" you asked, your voice soft, "If you're so strong, why didn't you leave this place? Why are you still here? Feeding off fruit instead of hunting the animals to the north."

His smirk faltered, his expression hardening. "Because I have something to prove," he grunted, "to them. To the people who left me here to rot. To everyone who thinks they can decide what I am."

He was going to prove that the place they abandoned him to was the reason he was going to turn into a real monster. His career shall start from the place his realization begun. He would tear them apart, and only after this, shall he enjoy his own brought food; his victims.

You didn't respond right away, your gaze dropping to the bread in your hands. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I think you're just lonely."

His head snapped toward you, his red eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"

You met his glare head-on, your expression tired, and yet still stubborn, "I said you're lonely. That's why you don't want me to die. You don't want to be alone again."

For a moment, the air between you grew tense. Sukuna's hands twitched, his fingers curling into fists as if he were contemplating smashing your fragile frame into the dirt.

But he didn't.

Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes with a huff. "You talk too much," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite the exhaustion etched into your face. "And you don't talk enough."

Another silence fell between you, this one less heavy, less suffocating. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken children in a world that had already decided you didn't belong.

But for now, you weren't alone.

Then days started to turn into weeks, and the weeks blurred into months.

Sukuna grew stronger, his body filling out with lean, wiry muscle as his cursed energy became sharper, more controlled. You were still frail, still weak, but you had learned to move like a shadow, to steal like a raven amongst the humans.

Sukuna didn't understand it. Didn't care to, at first. You were wasting your energy on a lost cause. You should've run far away from him, left him to rot like everyone else had.

But you hadn't. Didn't.

And that caused him to grow over the years.

He grew rapidly, mainly because of his genes— but his muscles weren't something he simply got. He earned them by training.

What to understand under training? Well— he used you as weight, most of the time. You sat on his back when he did pushups or his arm when he trained his biceps. You were useful to Sukuna; that's why he kept you around.

Definitely for no other reason, though.

Nope.

Not because your voice relaxed him, lulled him to sleep.

Not because you smiled at him the day both of you were supposed to be left as nothing more than rotten bodies in this cruel world.

Not because you were so fearless of his anatomy— of him.

Not because you cared for him, so unnaturally much.

Not because you were a complete idiot for doing so.

And to keep things around meant taking care of them, unfortunately. He couldn't risk you dying on him. Not that he'd feel guilty.. sad or anything, but you were useful, could steal. And besides, he had spend a lot of years together with you. You'd grown into young adults together. He got used to your company.

So he never wasted any time when he healed your wounds. You usually had a lot of them, considering villages were basically hunting for you by now.

You even found a little shelter, good enough to hold the two of you. It was an abandoned temple, plants overgrowing the place— but it was enough.

The villagers were growing restless, their whispers turning to shouts, their torches raised.

"The girl's still out there!"

"She steals more than she can eat— she's bringing offerings to the devil himself!"

"We have to end this before they destroy us all!"

Sukuna listened to their cries from the shadows.

"Let them come," he muttered, his voice a low growl.

You glanced at him, worried, "Sukuna…"

He turned to you, his smirk sharp and merciless. "They wanted a monster," he grinned, "I'll show them one."

And for the first time, you weren't sure if you could stop him.

From the day Sukuna decided to show himself to the villages, things changed.

You didn't know what he was doing there. He wouldn't tell you, and you didn't ask. But every evening, without fail, he'd return to the little temple the two of you had claimed. Bloodied.

Always bloodied.

It was never his blood.

His steps would echo against the cracked stones, his frame filling the entrance. He wouldn't say a word, just slump down into his usual spot, waiting for you to do what you always did.

You'd kneel beside him, a bucket of water already at the ready, and begin cleaning him. Your hands worked methodically, scrubbing away the blood that painted his arms, his chest, his face. It didn't matter how much there was or how long it took— you cleaned it all, sitting in silence as the water turned red.

He never flinched. Never winced.

You didn't ask what had happened, and he didn't offer an explanation.

This was your routine now.

You decided you didn't like it.

You were getting left out. He was going cold— you couldn't care less if it were towards the village and the world only— but what about you? You wanted to hear his voice, to talk to him, to be with him.

It was only weeks later that you began to notice them. The marks.

The first time you saw one, it was faint, almost invisible against his skin. A single black line curling along the biceps that met the shoulder. You didn't say anything, even as more began to appear, making their way up his limbs, across his chest, spreading like a dark disease.

You knew what they were.

You didn't need to ask.

Each mark was a crime— a sin carved into his flesh, branding him for the world to see. Murder. Destruction. Chaos.

You knew that.

He knew you knew.

At first, he acted like it didn't matter. Sukuna was stubborn like that, always pretending nothing could touch him. But you saw it, the way his gaze would flicker to you when he thought you weren't looking. The way his hands sometimes twitched when you got too close, as if he expected you to pull away.

He was scared.

Scared that you, out of all people, would abandon him.

But you didn't.

You didn't say a word when the marks began to spread across his shoulders, his back, his neck. You didn't flinch when the blood he came back with multiplied. You didn't recoil when his smile started to look more like a snarl, his eyes gleaming with something you didn't want to name.

You didn't support what he was doing.

But you would never stop him.

For the world had done the same to him.

Because no one stopped when they left him to rot, when they whispered behind their hands and turned their backs and called him a monster before he even had a chance to be anything else.

Because even though you didn't agree with him, even though you hated the blood and the way he was slipping further and further away from whatever humanity he had left…

You would never abandon him.

So you stayed.

Even as the marks spread like a curse, even as the villagers' cries grew louder, even as Sukuna's laughter began to echo like something bad had won against the world, you stayed.

Because that's what you'd always done.

And maybe that's why, when the marks started creeping toward his face, curling along his jaw and across his lower eyes, Sukuna never stopped coming back.

No matter how bloody he was.

No matter how much darker he seemed.

He always came back.

To you.

After Sukuna had received all possible markings on his body, you found yourselves wandering off the place it all started with.

He'd proven himself.

It was time to take over his own estate now. He shall be the god amongst the mere humans whom despised him, with you by his side.

Sukuna found an estate on a whim.

It was a massive structure, sprawling across the countryside like a symbol of decadence. It belonged to a king, or at least someone who thought themselves important. Sukuna didn't care who— it didn't matter. All he saw was an opportunity.

He stalked through the gates, dragging you behind him by the hand like a silent shadow. You didn't ask questions, didn't protest. You trusted him. Perhaps a bit too much.

He wasn't sure what pissed him off more; the way you clung to his side so willingly or the fact that you made him hesitate.

Sukuna had stormed into that estate ready to kill— prepared to cut through guards, nobles, anyone who dared stand in his way. But the moment he stepped inside, the warmth of your hand in his made him pause. Just for a second.

He grumbled, the sound low and guttural in his throat.

"Brat," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked up at him, confused, but before you could ask, three of his arms moved. Two hands covered your ears, and the third wrapped protectively around your head, shielding and blinding you from what he was about to do.

The remaining arm was the one he used to guide his slashes, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were paper.

Guards rushed at him, swords raised, and fell just as quickly. Blood splattered the polished floors, the walls, the pristine decor meant to show off the king's wealth. Sukuna moved like a storm, calculated and ruthless, cutting down anyone who dared oppose him.

But there were some who didn't fight.

Some dropped to their knees without question, trembling as they bowed their heads.

Sukuna's grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Swear your lives to me," he commanded, his voice a deep, menacing growl that echoed through the halls, "pledge your loyalty, or join the rest of them."

And they did.

One after another, they vowed their lives to him, fear etched into every syllable. Those were the ones he let live.

By the time he finished, the estate was his.

Blood soaked the floors, the stench of death heavy in the air, but it was done. Sukuna had claimed his place.

Servants began arriving the next day, desperate for shelter. They came from villages he'd decimated, from towns that whispered his name with equal parts fear and reverence. They gave their lives to him willingly, swearing fealty in exchange for protection.

Because that's what you had always done.

There was one habit Sukuna had carried with him since childhood— a strange, unspoken thing neither of you dared to label or even fully acknowledge. Whatever it was between you two, it wasn't something the world could define.

Certainly not a couple. That wasn't the right word. No.

But also… not not that.

It didn't matter. No one dared lay a thought on it.

The habit in question? Sukuna couldn't sleep unless you were right there. Not just near him, but with him. On him, preferably.

From the time you were small, he'd insist you lay against his chest, your frail frame curled up against him like you were the only shield he needed. As you grew, it became more than that— skin to skin contact. He craved it, though he'd rather rot in hell than admit it.

When you'd press your cheek against him, limbs tangled together as if the world wasn't constantly trying to tear you apart, Sukuna could actually relax. When your warmth pressed into his, he could let his many eyes close, feel his breathing even out. He swore he didn't care about the way your fingers would clutch at him in your sleep, or how you'd bury your face in the crook of his neck.

Didn't care that you drooled on him, for God's sake.

He definitely didn't admire that.

But there were nights when you'd wake up to find him staring at you, his eyes soft in a way you rarely saw. And he'd smirk, teasingly so, just enough to throw you off.

"You drooled all over me again," he'd mutter, pretending to be annoyed as he wiped at his skin, though the smug tilt of his mouth betrayed him.

You'd groan, shoving at his chest, "Then stop using me as a pillow."

"Who's using who?" he'd reply, wrapping his arms tighter around you so you couldn't escape.

It was stupid. Pointless. But also… it wasn't.

Because in those moments, when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world could burn for all you cared, Sukuna wasn't the bloodied monster that came home to you. And you weren't the ghost of a child stealing scraps to survive. (Which, frankly, you didn't need to anymore, since Sukuna took charge of that. However, the villages contained a.. feeling.. you liked to experience. The bits of humanity. Sukuna didn't stop you, for he didn't understand, but he trusted you.)

There was once, when Sukuna had never experienced you like this. Not once in all the years he'd known you.

You came back from the village as usual, empty-handed this time, but without so much as a scratch on you. At first, he thought nothing of it— maybe you'd been lucky, maybe the villagers were slacking, maybe...

But then, you didn't say a word. Not one.

You were always the one to start conversations. Always the one filling the empty silence between the two of you with your endless chatter, your stubborn questions, your little quips that only made him smirk. So why the hell were you quiet now?

It irritated him.

"Oi," Sukuna barked, his sharp tone bouncing off the temple walls, "say something."

You didn't respond.

He narrowed his eyes, his arms crossing over his broad chest. This was weird. Really weird. Then he got a good look at your face, and something about it made his stomach twist, and the feeling in his chest cold.

You looked sad.

Why did you look sad? You weren't supposed to look like that. That wasn't you.

"Stop making that face," he snapped, scowling to cover the strange unease rising in his chest.

You still didn't respond, huffing and walking away to another room— that definitely was not the one you'd share with Sukuna. For mere sleeping habits, obviously.

Then he noticed you weren't eating either. That was the final straw. Sukuna was no saint— far from it— but when he was half-dead, starving, and barely able to move, you'd shoved food down his throat whether he wanted it or not. You fed him, cared for him, even when he didn't deserve it.

So maybe, he thought, he should do the same for you.

Yes. Yes, that was the answer.

Of course, Sukuna had never been great with the whole 'gentle' thing. Or 'patient.' Or 'subtle.'

So when you didn't eat the dried meat he shoved into your hands, he huffed and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Literally.

"Open your damn mouth," he growled, his lower arms grabbing your face with surprising force. Servants around the room stilled, their eyes widening. They knew you as the King's treasure— they never expected him to care, whatsoever.

You blinked up at him, startled, but still didn't say a word.

"Don't just stare at me— eat!" he barked, attempting to shove the food toward your mouth. When your lips remained stubbornly closed, his frustration boiled over, "Fine, you wanna be a brat? Then I shall make you—"

Without thinking, Sukuna grabbed your jaw, prying your mouth open with way too much force. His grip was rough, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he tried to shove the food in.

"Stop being so damn stupid—!"

Before any of the shocked servants could even dare to say anything, your muffled protest and wide eyes finally registered in his brain. He froze mid-action, realizing he was practically choking you.

"..Oh."

He pulled his hands back abruptly, the dried meat dropping to the ground between you. You coughed a little, your eyes watering, and for a brief moment, Sukuna actually felt awkward.

Which pissed him off even more.

"Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms again and glaring at the wall, "you're lucky I even bothered, fool."

You finally spoke then, your voice soft and hoarse from disuse. "…Sukuna?"

"What?"

Your lips trembled, and you looked up at him with that same sad expression that made his chest ache. "Thank you."

He scoffed, turning his head away so you couldn't see the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. "Don't thank me. Just eat next time."

But you didn't.

And Sukuna, for all his glory, didn't know how to fix you.

And that terrified him.

He didn't know what was wrong, didn't know how to make you better, and the longer you stayed like this— silent, withdrawn, not you— the more it ate away at him. He wasn't used to fear, not like this, and it pissed him off.

So the next time you went into the village, he came with you.

It was a rational decision, he told himself. If he could just see what was going on, maybe he could figure out how to fix it. Plus, he'd make sure nothing happened to you while you were out.

The villagers, of course, noticed immediately. Sukuna wasn't exactly subtle. A hulking figure with four arms and marks that practically screamed danger didn't exactly blend into the background.

This was no longer just you, the lone thief darting through shadows.

No.

This was you and Sukuna, the two of you together.

A pair.

You were the reason Sukuna had survived this long. He knew that. Knew that now the villagers would too. They'd hunt you harder, piece together the truth of how you'd kept him alive, how you'd made him the monster they feared.

He didn't care.

He wasn't going to leave your side anyway.

You were safest with him. No one would dare lay a finger on you while he was there. That was the message he sent, loud and clear, as he walked beside you through the village, your hand clasped firmly in his.

But then he saw it.

The way your expression shifted.

You stopped, your gaze snagged on a group of children sitting in the dirt, their little hands busy smearing bright colors inside simple lines drawn on scraps of parchment. They were laughing, giggling, so blissfully unaware of the two of you.

Your frown deepened.

And that's when Sukuna realized.

This— this— was the reason for your depressive episode.

He froze, staring at you for a moment before he let out a loud, echoing cackle. He laughed so hard his sides ached, his upper hands clutching his stomach while his lower ones rested on his hips.

"That's what's got you sulking?" he sneered, "This? A bunch of brats smearing colors like idiots?"

You turned to him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, lips tugged into a pout. "Shut up."

He barked out a low, mocking laugh, leaning closer as his sharp teeth glinted. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of that? You wanna crawl around in the dirt and finger-paint too? What's next, you gonna cry about it? Pathetic."

You huffed, crossing your arms with a glare. "Hey! I haven't cried about such things since.. forever now— you can't bring that up!"

But you weren't mad.

Just pouty.

And he found that absolutely hilarious.

Back at the estate, though, Sukuna couldn't shake the image of your face in the village. That look of quiet longing, of sadness. It stuck with him, crawling under his skin until he couldn't ignore it anymore.

So, begrudgingly, he thought about it. Really thought about it.

And then, with a dramatic sigh, he sat down beside you, crossing his lower arms over his lap while the upper ones gestured at his body.

"Here," he said gruffly, as if this were a full sentence made to understand immediately.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"My marks," he muttered, already annoyed at how awkward he felt, "use them. Color inside the lines or whatever. Just— stop looking like that. It's annoying."

Your mouth fell open in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. "Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, scowling, "if it'll stop you from sulking, then fine. Go ahead. You can even add new ones if you want."

Your face lit up, a spark of your usual self finally flickering back to life. "Really?"

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?" Sukuna grumbled, pretending to be annoyed even as relief washed over him, "Just don't mess it up."

You grabbed a piece of charcoal from your stash with a grin, leaning closer to him. "Don't worry, S'kuna. I'll make you beautiful."

He rolled his eyes.

"To think of it, you're already really beautiful.."

He scoffed, his lips curling up, "I am no such thing."

"To me, you are."

"..."

Your relationship was fine. There wasn't much else you could say about it. You weren't ready to ruin anything, and being in his arms made you content enough.

But there was this constant urge to have more.

You didn't understand these feelings fully, but you did know there were times when you wanted to please him desperately.

That's why you started training. A lot.

Obviously, you'd never live up to the King himself, but there was no denying the fact that you did… bloom. You didn't run anymore— not when you were able to take out people on your own.

And while you did all of this with the intention of keeping yourself safe, you somehow got another reward out of it.

His praise.

Your guilty pleasure.

You tried not to let it show, but you were desperate for it. Almost like a dog wagging its tail, ready for a reward after performing a trick.

And while Sukuna hadn't noticed that you specifically craved his praise, he had noticed that you'd grown a lot more obedient. You'd follow his orders without snarky remarks, without hesitation.

Take eating, for example.

Back then, Sukuna would've been fuming because, despite your circumstances and how you grew up, you were a picky eater. And Sukuna had actually been trying his best to break that habit.

Now? Now you ate without another word. No sarcastic quips. No fights. No using the King of Curses as your personal climbing material to escape his four arms.

Nope.

Just you, grimacing after each bite of whatever questionable food you'd been handed.

Sukuna was confused.

Hence why you didn't get the praise you'd been so desperately hoping for.

Well, fuck you, you cunt. What did I eat this fucking piece of shit for?

As you sat picking at a particularly unappealing piece of food, Sukuna finally snapped.

"Alright," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest, all four of them. "What's your deal?"

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me." His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the dim light. "You've been acting weird. Eating whatever garbage you're given, training like a lunatic, not mouthing off— what's going on with you?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your food. "I'm just… trying to pull my weight, that's all."

"Bullshit," he said flatly.

You flinched, your grip tightening on your fork.

Sukuna leaned forward, "Out with it," he demanded. "what are you trying to prove?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are."

You hesitated, biting your lip, and Sukuna's frustration grew. He hated when you shut him out.

"I just…" You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to make you proud, is all."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable.

And then, to your utter shock, he let out a low, rumbling laugh.

"That's it?" he said, his tone mocking but not mean, "You want to make me proud? You're such an idiot."

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna cut you off.

"Listen," he begun, "You don't need to break yourself to impress me. You're already here, are you not? That's enough."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide.

"Now eat," he barked, his tone snapping back to its usual gruffness. "And stop making that stupid face. It's annoying."

A small grin tugged at your lips.

"Yes, your Highness," you said, mockingly formal as you took a big, dramatic bite of your food.

Sukuna rolled his eyes but didn't bother hiding the smirk that spread across his face.

When letters started to come in, no one really knew how to address you.

You weren't his queen. You weren't his wife. You weren't his servant, and you certainly weren't his concubine.

You were you.

A force unlike anything the world had ever seen. The only soul who dared to hold Sukuna's gaze without fear, who could make him snarl one moment and laugh the next.

If there was one thing everyone knew, it was this; Sukuna respected you. A respect so profound that it bordered on reverence— something not even gods themselves could hope to achieve.

One day, another letter arrived.

It was addressed to you, though the sender didn't dare write your name. Instead, it bore a simple title,

The Crow.

The name wasn't unfamiliar. After all, it wasn't far from the truth. You had once been the solitary figure scavenging food for Sukuna, feeding him when the world left him to rot. Always flitting in and out of danger, quick and clever, much like the bird they now associated you with.

Sukuna scoffed at the name when he looked over your shoulder, your legs dangling off of his lap, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. "The Crow, hm? How poetic."

You rolled your eyes. "What else would they call me? It's better than 'Bearer of Death' or 'The Pest', no?"

He barked out a laugh, leaning back on his throne, "I'd kill them myself if they dared to write something that pathetic."

The letter was an invitation from a village requesting your presence. It was worded carefully, dripping with false flattery and desperate pleas.

"They need you," Sukuna read aloud mockingly. "Right. As if this isn't a trap."

You knew it, and so did he.

But still, you folded the letter neatly and tucked it away.

"I'm going."

Sukuna's expression darkened instantly. His gaze bore into you, sharp and unrelenting. "No, you're not."

You raised a brow, "You're not my keeper."

"Correct. I'm your king," he snapped, hands finding their way to your waist, almost as if silently stopping you from an escape, "and I forbid it."

"Then come with me,"

He stilled, his gaze narrowing as he weighed your words.

"if it's a trap," you continued, "they won't expect you. In that case, we— you don't have to worry about dinner tonight."

Sukuna grunted, a smirk blooming on his face, "You're insufferable."

"So I've heard."

The two of you arrived at the village a few days later, Sukuna at your side.

The air was thick with unease as villagers scattered like mice at the sight of him. His reputation preceded him, the stories of his cruelty and power leaving no room for doubt.

What confused them most was him.

Why was he here? Only you were invited.

The village leader greeted you hesitantly, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"We… we didn't expect both of you to come."

"Clearly," Sukuna drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. His lower arms crossed over his chest while the upper ones rested at his sides, ready to strike if needed. "You thought you'd lure her here and what? Take her from me? Did you think you could threaten me in this way?"

The leader paled, stumbling over his words. "N-no, my Lord, we—"

"Enough." Sukuna's voice silenced the man immediately, "Speak. Why did you call her here?"

The village leader fumbled, his gaze flickering nervously between you and Sukuna. "W-We need her help," he stammered, voice quivering as he addressed the King. "A newborn… was recently b-born here." His words faltered, his fear evident as he glanced up at the King, "He's… different. B-Born with two faces."

The man swallowed hard, his trembling hands clasped together in desperation. "He's sick. None of the doctors outside the village will touch him," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. Then, his eyes turned to you, filled with a desperate kind of hope, "We heard the stories— how she saved you— and we thought…"

"You thought wrong," Sukuna growled.

But before he could end the man's life with a single swipe, you stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm.

"Let me handle this," you said softly.

His gaze flickered to you, his jaw tightening. After a long moment, he relented, stepping back with a low grunt.

You let the villager take you to the hut where the newborn was.

You knelt before the makeshift crib, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to the newborn. He was tiny, frail— two faced.

One face contained of nothing more than fear, whilst the other cried out in pain. Yet, when your arms wrapped around his fragile body, he quieted, though soft whimpers still escaped his lips.

"Shh, little one," you murmured, your voice as gentle as a breeze. Sukuna watched silently from the corner, his arms crossed.

Carefully, you checked the baby's temperature, your fingers brushing over his small, fevered forehead. You examined his tiny body for signs of illness, taking note of the unnatural features that made the villagers so fearful. His two faces twisted slightly as he squirmed in your arms, but he didn't cry out again.

Turning to the trembling leader and a few others standing nearby, you, usually being considered nice, spoke firmly, "He needs specific care. His fever has to be brought down immediately. You'll need fruits rich in vitamins— papayas, bananas, oranges. Vegetables too. Carrots, spinach. And a steady supply of milk." Your gaze hardened, daring them to question you. "If you fail to provide him with these, he won't survive the month."

The leader nodded rapidly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to fulfill your demands.

Meanwhile, the baby's tiny hand gripped weakly at the fabric of your sleeve, his innocent gaze drifting up to meet yours. His other face, half-formed but expressive, mirrored the longing in his eyes. He clung to you like you were the only safe haven in his fragile world.

But then his gaze shifted, catching sight of Sukuna looming nearby. The King's lower set of eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips twitching into something between a pout and a scowl. The baby's hand hesitated, releasing its hold as if sensing Sukuna's displeasure.

You glanced at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous expression. What was he? Jealous? Of a baby?

Biting back a laugh, you turned your attention back to the infant, cradling him closer and pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead. "Don't mind him," you whispered, though loud enough for Sukuna to hear, "he's just grumpy because he's not the center of attention for once."

Sukuna scoffed, his arms tightening across his chest. "Tch. Keep your bratty comments to yourself."

You grinned at him, unbothered by his tone. "Aw, is the mighty King pouting? You're really going to compete with a newborn now?"

"I do not pout."

"Oh, you absolutely do," you teased, hugging the baby close for emphasis. The infant snuggled into you, his soft breaths warm against your skin. He reminded you so much of Sukuna, except Sukuna's beginnings had been so much harsher, so much crueler.

Your smile softened as you glanced over at the man, "You were like this once, you know," you said quietly, "but worse off. No one held you like this, did they?"

"That's irrelevant," he muttered.

You turned back to the baby, rocking him gently. "Not to me,"

Sukuna didn't respond, but he didn't look away, either. Even in his silence, you knew he was watching, remembering.

He hated this.

Hated the way they looked at you, as if you were their savior. As if they had any right to ask for your help after the world had abandoned you. For no reason, might he add. You were not the devil's incarnation, you hadn't been a bad child, hell, for all he knew, you could be considered an angel. And yet, you were in the same state as he was the very day you two met. The world treated you so harshly for your mere existence. And Sukuna hadn't forgotten.

He stayed silent, letting you work.

When the day ended, you returned to his side, hands stained with herbs. He said nothing.

And yet, the villagers had the audacity to offer you flowers— an attempt at gratitude.

They were beautiful.

They promised you they smelled even better.

Who were you to decline?

But beauty has a cost.

The flowers— so innocent-looking, so sweet-smelling— were anything but.

The trouble began not long after.

At first, Sukuna noticed how clingy you became, latching onto him even more than usual. You'd run your hands through his hair (despite his scowls and harsh hushes), trace the tattoos along his arms, or rest your head on his chest longer than necessary. He didn't mind— not that he'd admit it— but it was odd. It was unlike you to be so needy.

Then, just as suddenly, you pulled away.

Your skin flushed, your breathing uneven. You seemed distant, yet restless, quirking around like a lost little thing.

And in the blink of an eye, you stormed off to the room you shared with him. No explanations. Just silence. The servants barely had time to question your behavior. You disappeared before they could even open their mouths.

Sukuna pretended not to care. You were probably sulking, he told himself. Maybe something the villagers said had gotten under your skin. But the longer you stayed locked in that room, the more agitated he became.

He wasn't going to check on you— not immediately, anyway. That would mean admitting he cared, and he wasn't about to give anyone that satisfaction.

Instead, he sent servants.

The first returned looking pale, as if they'd just seen a ghost.

"What's wrong with her?" Sukuna growled, standing at an intimidating height.

The servant stammered, failing to form a coherent response.

Useless.

A single strike ended their misery, and Sukuna turned to the next.

One by one, the servants were sent to your room, and one by one, they returned looking worse for wear— shaken, nervous, almost beaten down mentally. None of them gave him a straight answer. And that annoyed him beyond hell and earth.

By the third corpse, he was growing impatient.

Finally, one brave— or perhaps foolish— servant stepped forward, bowing low to avoid her wrath. "My Lord… it's not our place to say. You… you should see for yourself. But she… she needs time. Give her a moment, then go to her."

The King's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. Time? You needed time? For what?

Still, the servant's trembling voice and the hint of genuine concern in their words stopped him from storming in immediately.

"Fine," he grunted, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand, "half an hour. If she's not better by then, I’ll deal with it myself."

The servant bowed deeply, sharing a concerned look before retreating as quickly as they could.

And so, Sukuna waited.

What was wrong with you? And why the hell hadn't you told him?

Inside the room, you were fighting for your life. You were left dizzy and overwhelmed. You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The sensation was maddening, your body betraying you in ways you couldn't explain.

Your abdomen burned. It felt too hot for your body, and you were desperate. Desperate to get rid of it, to loosen it, to feel pleasure.

You cursed under your breath, glaring at the damned flowers on the bedside table. They were the culprits. Had to be. Their sweet, heady scent lingered in the air, mocking you.

And then it dawned on you.

They were aphrodisiacs.

You yelped, mewling in, what you could consider, pain. Pain of the lack of touch.

One thought after another paced into your mind, but the one that stung the most must've been the simple question; why?

Why did the villagers do this? Hadn't you helped them well enough? Weren't you good?

Were they still, after having received your help, desperate to damage the King's property? In order to weaken him?

You scoffed at the thought. Yeah, as if.

The more disgusting thought probably had to be that they weren't in disgust of you, no, they wanted you to reproduce. They wanted more of Sukuna's kind, for the man also had worshippers, not only enemies. And this village had been such as those, you hadn't missed their eyes lingering on the King's large form.

What had you done to deserve this?

You'd have to tell Sukuna eventually.

And that would mean the death of the villagers.

You didn't want that, either.

But it was only a matter of time until said King would find out about your condition.

You thought, maybe he'd find out by the use of his enhanced senses. He'd smell the aphrodisiacs, and know what had happend to you. Or maybe he already knew these type of flowers, and he'd be able to tell by the mere look of them.

What you hadn't expected was for him to find you hopelessly humping a pillow.

The one placed in the bed you shared with him.

You had thought he went hunting— and no other servants dared to enter his room without knocking and getting an approval.

And for his sake, you would've been embarassed to see him standing there, his upper arms crossed, his expression fading from surprised to.. amused? Whatever. The King could never be surprised, could he?

You would've been embarassed, if it hadn't been for the high effects these flowers had casted upon you.

You felt like you were in heat.

You couldn't stop. A mess of whimpers, mewls and moans was what you were.

"..m-m ngh- haa- 'm s-so.. s.. sorry— 'kuna—!"

To Sukuna, you were a sight worth millions.

What could he say? Your tits, once hidden behind your kimono, were out, bouncing along to your hopeless humping. Your hair was messy, your eyes droopy, but open enough for him to catch your blown out pupils— not to mention the fact that you looked up at him as if he were your savior. Your breaths came out shallow, and your moans.. your moans were what he could consider a masterpiece. It only added to his own arousal when you moaned his name. Well, petname now, apparently.

He wanted to touch you.

To demolish you himself.

"They've drugged you. I see. Their village shall burn to the grounds—"

"N-no! -kuna p-please don't leave meee!—" you panted, desperately rubbing your clit now.

He wasn't planning to leave, however hearing you beg for it was a little cherry on top. He smirked, nearing you as he yanked your hand off of your poor bud.

And shit, the way you looked up at him— your eyes glossy, partly embarassed and partly so deep in the haze of your own arousal.

His other hand tangled into your hair, snapping your head up to look up at him.

He spoke lowly, his voice a mere rasp,

"Tell me what you desire, my dove."

"You."

No hesitation.

Well fuck, if that didn't make Sukuna rock hard, then he'd be doomed.

"Hm. Stop your humping on that thing. Come here."

His hold on your hair guided you up. You whimpered, the loss of friction and close release could've been enough of a reason for you to have started sobbing.

"Your body is truly pathetic. You can't even withstand a mere aphrodisiac. How are you to survive in this world without me by your side?"

He yanked you up, holding you with his lower arms by your thighs as he pressed you to the nearest wall. You whined, the little clothing you still owned slipping down your form, leaving you fully naked. He was already shirtless, never fond of any tops.

"Hm. A day ago you would've cried from embarrassment. How amusing."

That's when you felt it.

Your cunt was directly pressed to his stomach.

Exactly where his maw was located at.

He wasted no time, slithering the thick muscle from your thighs to your chasm, and into your folds. The dip was delicious, spreading your arousal all around as it began slipping inside of you.

Sukuna's actual mouth acted with thoughts, for he was the one controlling its actions.

His maw, however, acted on pure instinct. That's why on the day you fed him, it wasn't his actual mouth accepting your offer, but his maw, which knew what he had needed.

And it knew what you needed, now, because it was pumping inside of you like a real dick, stretching you out in ways that should hurt if it werent for the mixture of his spit and your liquid.

You moaned loudly, holding into the man as you squirmed. The canines of his maw brushed over your plush thighs, trying to savour your taste.

It was eating you.

Literally.

You gasped when you felt Sukuna's free hands groping your breasts harshly, running his thumbs over your hardened buds.

He pinched them.

And you cried out. Loudly, at that. It hurt, the overstimulation just adding to it as your breasts swelled.

And then he spat on them, meeting your druggen, almost passed out gaze with his grin.

His tongue, still pushing inside of you as if it were to devour you at any moment, was originally going to make you cum.. but..

"S-stop- 'kuna please! E- haah- enough!"

Said man stopped immediately, his tongue stilling inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.

"What is it, brat? You haven't even had your release yet. Don't tell me it's already too much."

You shook your head, blushing as your hands went around his head. He shot you a confused look before you leaned in to press your lips on his.

He was taken aback. A grunt left his lips as he accepted his fate, though he seemed to still, as if not knowing what to do.

But you giggled, actually giggled at him.

"Want you 'kuna. W-want you to feel good too,"

"Don't be silly. You will wither trying to take me."

"'n y-you'll just heal me then, no?"

"..."

He grunted, removing his tongue from you before placing you on the bed.

You looked so beautiful, spread out like a flower blooming. Your cunt was glistening, spread and messy from his tongue.

And yet, you had the audacity to feel shy at the moment.

Using your hands to cover what's his.

"Remove your hands at once, or I will not take any mercy on you, brat." He snarled, slowly pushing his pants down.

You obeyed.

And there he was.

There they were.

Standing at proud, over-human-sized inches, both of his cocks, glistening with leaking pre-cum.

He was right. You would wither trying to take him.

"Excited already?"

Oh, yeah.

How did you not notice the way you basically went on all fours within seconds, looking at his cocks as if they were treasures.

"S..so big—" your hands wrapped around his lower cock, experimentally giving a few pumps. The King, to all his glory, grunted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"So desperate, my dove. Tch."

Your mouth fell open as you went to take his upper dick, kitty licking over his tip, tasting his cum.

Fuck.

It didn't take long for you to wrap your mouth around his tip, pumping his other rock-hard, desperate cock.

And maybe, he was just as desperate— his hand wrapped around your neck, slowly inching his dick deeper into you.

You could cum on spot for what he said next;

"Good girl. F-fuck."

Not only did the big, bad King just do what you yearned for the whole time (praise you), but he also had stuttered (whimpered, really. But you'll take what you get).

You moaned around his large shaft, bobbing your head when you noticed you wouldn't be able to go any deeper. Tears were running down your cheeks, sobs escaping your full throat.

Your fingers engulfed him, your thumb rubbing his leaking tip while the other hand stroked his base, feeling the vein running underneath.

He was so perfect.

During your moment of bliss, you barely noticed his cussing, let alone his demands.

"G-get off— woman."

But you didn't.

You couldn't.

And he couldn't stop you, for the pleasure was way too great.

With that, he shot, not one, but two big loads onto you, one running inside of your throat and the other outside your throat, soaking your skin with white, sticky cum.

You were eager to swallow, and even more eager to continue, though your mouth was starting to get sore and tired.

"E-enough- for fuck's sake- off!" He groaned as he pulled you off forcefully, your mouth still connected to his dick by the mixture of cum and saliva.

Well fuck, if that wasn't a sight..

His dick remained hard, and you wondered how many releases he needed in order to soften.

"Real fuckin' minx. You think you can take both?"

You shook your head harshly, sobbing at the mere thought.

"Backing out? Already? How pathetic. I haven't even got the real chance to please you."

Without another word, he threw you on your back, gripping your legs and pressing them against your chest— literally folding you.

"'Kuna- Kuna haa!—" you cried out as you felt his tongue dive into your cunt again, his tip prodding the place right under your hole.

"Ca- can't take bo- ahh- both! Please!—"

He hummed, his tongue retreating.

"I suppose you can't, no."

"Huh?— Ah—!"

He entered you without another warning, without any time to adjust.

He was big.

He hurt.

But you did give him your promise that it'd be okay. And he said he'd heal you. So it should be okay if you could feel your walls clampering down on him, begging for a release and for him to stop his torture.

The pain easily mixed with the pleasure when he started thrusting into you, holding your legs with two of his arms, the other two keeping him steady above you. His other tip kept nudging your clit, making you cry out everytime your nerves got any kind of friction.

"Mhh. Such a glorious sight you are, my dove. So vulnerable.. can't even handle one cock, how are you ever supposed to take me?"

Ever?

You would've questioned it, if it weren't for the drool running down your lips, and the tears straining your cheeks. He chuckled, leaning down to you to lick away your tears and saliva.

His chest steadied your legs in position, and he used this as an advantage to run his hands all over your body.

You cried out when you felt multiple sharp teeth nibbling at your skin, some drawing blood, some sucking your skin.

He'd summoned mouths over his hands.

Moaning, you squirmed beneath him, his thrusts brutal enough to send you flying if it weren't for his grip.

"Ngh- ha- c-can't.. g'na cum-"

"Go on, little one. C-cum- fuck-" his breaths where heavy, and you could tell by his twitching cock inside of you that he was close aswell.

"Gonna f-fill you up, gonna fill you up so good— fuck- stop squeezing me like that, wo-hah- woman-!"

You came with a loud scream of his name, him following curtly after.

Hot, sticky cum filled your walls as he pulled out, his upper cock having spurt cum aswell. It coated your abdomen, up to your swollen breasts.

Shit.

"Haa- n-no! Enough-!" You yelped as you felt his fingers back in your hole.

He scoffed, "You're wasting my cum. Keep. It. In."

"Y-yeah as if I could do thaaa- holy shit!-" he filled you to the brim, knuckles deep inside of you, shoving every bit of his sticky substance into you.

"'Kunaaaaaa-"

"Fuck. Fine. I'll let this slip this time."

His hands hovered over the open wounds he'd caused, though he really rather looked smug. He healed you, fixing all what had to be fixed while hoisting you up into his arms.

"..this time?.."

He tilted his head.

"You didn't think this was a one time thing, did you?"

Oh but you did.

Whoops.

Blushing, you looked away.

"I- I don't want to be a concubine."

"..You're a fool to believe I'd consider you as such."

Silence.

Oh. Wait. That meant?..

"You know I'll still end those who hurt you, right?"

"Yeah."

He hummed, "Very well, I'll be on my way tomorrow. If you wish to follow, you are free to do so."

Silence.

"Sukuna?"

"Brat."

"Just.. spare the children and their parents, will you? They just—" you stopped, sighing as you nuzzled further into him, "—they.. he reminded me of you. You were like him too, once. I-.. it surprised me, that they didn't abandon him. I'd like him to do what we couldn't."

And what would that be? You and Sukuna basically could do anything. Were you saying he might've been uncapable of something? He killed all his life, he survived, he lived. What couldn't he possibly do?

"You must be mistaken, little one. We've done everything. We're capable of everything."

To his surprise, your voice came out weak. Weak like he'd never heard before. Not even when the people started chasing you with torches and knives, and spat mean words at you for your mere existence.

"...I'd like him to grow up loved."

"..."

...but Sukuna had loved you, hadn't he?

masterlist

look at me.

𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 ✶ you want his friend’s number ⎯⎯ enhypen x fem!rea ◜ᯅ◝ fluff pre relationship

姫 this is so silly but take this as i work on scenarios !

taglist open + net— @sgz-net | quotidian.

I'm gonna start a trend hehe >:3

So :

How would your Fae Sun and Moon react to being called baby (as in affectionate petname sense)? Like when we pet them or we just nuzzle into their necks gently??? Sth sth soft touches and petnames have been plaguing me lately, thank you 😃💥

OKAY SEE YOU JESTIE HEHEHE

🫣💞✨💥‼️

Calling the faeries, the generous pet name givers themselves, a pet name?

Oh, Starrie,

They’d crumble

They can dish it out but they can’t take it

☀️FNAF DCA x Y/N Fic Recs🌑

All of them are DCA x Reader[romantic/queerplatonic]. NSFW fics at the bottom (I like those that have plot and/or have fluff <3)

Inspired by: Pillowspaces' DCA Fic Recs.

I've read them all and I love them all sO MUCH

Click on the author's name to view more artwork/content of the fic's au!

If you see your fic, you can ask for it to be removed.

PLEASE check each fics tags before reading them.

Last updated: 13/Dec/2024 [Total: 26 fics]

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☀️Solar Lunacy by BamSara (AO3 account required)

Samebody!Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Staff!Reader

~~ [AU & Designs: @bamsara]

You weren't a technician, you weren't a security guard, you weren't a daycare assistant. You're just an employee. Staff. The ‘jack-of-all-trades’ employee with mediocre at best skills and specialty in none, tasked with doing miscellaneous jobs that robots couldn't do and human staff couldn't care to. The job is unpredictable, but it pays good and it's relatively easy.

Except for the part where all the animatronics are more sentient than you thought, and you're roped into a mystery surrounding the Daycare Attendants, who are bit too curious about you for your liking.

You don't think this was in your employee contact.

| Words: 225,814 | Chapters: 16/?

🌑Love, Death and Rollerskates by Spadillelicious

Rollerskater!Sun, Janitor!Moon, Metalstar!Eclipse x Staff!Reader

~~ [AU & Designs: @spadillelicious]

After moving to Crescent City in the 80s, you pick up a job at the local roller rink Party Planet. Ironic, considering roller skating is definitely not one of your talents.

On the bright side, you get to work with the friendly Sun. On the other hand, you also have to interact with the gruff janitor and security guard Moon on a daily basis.

But when staying after hours one day, despite being strictly instructed not to, you find out a terrible secret that changes everything you knew about Sun, Moon and Crescent City forever.

| Words: 98,091 | Chapters: 18/?

☀️Celestial Sundown by clutterspace

God!Sun, God!Moon, God!Eclipse x Human!Reader

~~ [AU & Designs: @pillowspace]

There was something slumped beneath a tree, and you had no idea what it was. The sunlight shone brighter where it laid, despite the leaves above not differing from any of the other foliage.

It was such a small thing to notice in comparison to everything else, but it brought a small hysterical giggle out past the lump in your throat as it finally clicked in place what you were seeing.

It was a god.

You are a peasant living in the middle of the woods, Sun is the god of day you brought back home with you, and Moon is the god of night tucked away in the Celestial Realm.

| Words: 83,805 | Chapters: 7/?

🌑In Deep Dreams Between the Waves by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Mermaid!Eclipse x Human!Reader

~~ [AU: @naffeclipse. Designs: naffeclipse, @deliasmoothie]

You see a fish, but the fish isn’t really a fish, because he looks up at you with big yellow eyes, wide with fright. Large black pupils dart around frantically. He’s small, less than half your size, which surprises you. You know mers are supposed to be big sea monsters that sink boats or cause storms, but you don’t see a monster. You think of a baby while staring at his chubby round face, creased with fear, and his small tail.

| Words: 55,644 | Chapters: 5/5

☀️Song Fish Amid the Stars by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Mermaid!Sun, Mermaid!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [AU: naffeclipse. Designs: naffeclipse, deliasmoothie]

This is a type of sequel to In Deep Dreams Between the Waves.

A pang hits your heart, going out to the little fish struggling to escape the cruel and entrapping lagoon.

But they look like mers. Sea monsters.

| Words: 69,362 | Chapters: 6/6

🌑Sleuth Jesters by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Detective!Sun, Detective!Moon, MafiaBoss!Eclipse x Vigilante!Reader

~~ [AU: @sunnys-aesthetic, naffeclipse. YN,Sun&Moon Designs: sunnys-aesthetic. Eclipse Design: naffeclipse, deliasmoothie]

“If I may, Detectives, I believe that the score is set at a tie on how many times you’ve both let me slip away under your watch.” You grin at the sun and moon like faces of your opponents in this game of cat and mouse. The narrow slice of Detective Moon’s gaze becomes threatening, where Detective Sun curls and uncurls his fingers in anticipation of whatever scheme you’re concocting.

| Words: 174,134 | Chapters: 15/15

☀️Pisces Caelestis by S_V

Mermaid!Sun, Mermaid!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [AU & Designs: @sortvaniliekrans]

Underneath the glowing eyes, a great maw opened to hiss at you, baring several rows of needle-like fangs, wicked looking and sharp and also glowing in the blacklight. As the thing hissed, the cries started up again, more frantic this time, and accompanied by- it almost sounded like scratching?

And it was coming from behind you.

The bleeding creature had never been the one wailing.

| Words: 76,588 | Chapters: 13/?

🌑Wintersweet Spirit by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Winterspirit!Sun x Human!Y/N

~~ [AU: naffeclipse. Designs: naffeclipse, @berrythefish]

Your visit to a beautiful, tucked-away mountain town leaves you curious about the beliefs of a mythical beast who watches over the peaks and snowy ranges. An ill-advised trek toward the summit sends you tumbling directly into the mythical beast's domain as you must accept his guiding hand to endure the harsh mountaintop.

He is power and brightness, and the only one who can carry you through the snow.

| Words: 34,212 | Chapters: 3/3

☀️Celestial Omens by BamSara

Siren!Sun, Siren!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [AU & Designs: bamsara]

When you are ten years old, you find two creatures, bloodied and injured, trapped a net on the beach near your home. You save them, make friends with them, and return them to the sea, leaving you to wonder later if your friends with the Sun colored scales and fins that shone like the full Moon were real or imagined up by a childhood of loneliess.

Time passes. You hear stories of monsters, Sirens in the water, one that is a good omen if spotted, promising your safe voyage as long as you respect the rules of the ocean, and one that sinks ships and eats people for fun. Just folktales meant to scare children.

A decade later, they return the favor, though they don't plan on leaving you so easily this time.

| Words: 36,318 | Chapters: 3/?

🌑Sources of Light by JackOfAllRabbits (AO3 account required)

Alien!Sun x Alien!Moon x Human!Y/N x Alien!Eclipse

~~ [AU & Designs: @maudiemoods]

Space has always seemed so far away until now...

Your life was mundane and simple; work, eat, and sleep. Taking small joys as they come to you and trying not to worry. Then, a summer night like any other takes a dramatic turn when you encounter a pair of aliens who had not anticipated meeting a human. In a panic you find yourself swept away onto their ship and now must navigate a universe of unknowns, starting with your strange abductors and the secrets surrounding them.

| Words: 120,077 | Chapters: 15/15

☀️Signs of Life by JackOfAllRabbits (AO3 account required)

Alien!Eclipse x Scientist!Y/N

~~ [AU & Designs: maudiemoods, @jackofallrabbits]

A new scientist has been hired to the Faz Co. research facility in the heart of the desert where any number of secrets can be kept. You are full of curiosity and are especially interested in a particularly fascinating subject that Faz Co. is holding.

A certain dangerous alien. Will you get too close for comfort? Is it worth the risk?

This fic is something of a sequel fic to Sources of Light and will revolve around Eclipse. This fic can stand on its own but there might be mention of past events.

| Words: 127,034 | Chapters: 13/?

🌑Cryptid Sightings by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

CryptidinAnimatronic!Sun/Moon x CryptidHunter!Y/N

~~ [AU: naffeclipse. Designs: naffeclipse, deliasmoothie]

Perhaps this would scare a person, being all alone in the woods in the dark, but not you. You’re too intertwined with the paranormal and inexplicable. It’s in your blood. That doesn’t mean your heart won’t pound with terror when you face something with fangs and hungry eyes for flesh, but you don’t run away, and that’s what matters most.

You will face the monsters.

| Words: 253,823 | Chapters: 21/21

☀️What the Tide Keeps by Cipher_the_Sidhe

Mer!Sun, Mer!Moon x MerHandler!Y/N

~~ [AU & Designs: @cipher-the-sidhe]

Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Mega Water World, the premier aquarium in the world! Enjoy our state-of-the-art rides and attractions, our dazzling animal performances, and prepare to be amazed by the stars of our show: live mers!

You are a mer handler at the illustrious Mega Water World. Or, you were, until something happens to the mer in your care and FazCo buries it all under red tape. Driven by grief and guilt, you team up with a fellow handler to uncover and bring to light the company’s unethical practices surrounding the mysterious mers they keep on display.

But what do you do when your search for the truth brings you face to face with two abandoned mers wasting away in the ruins of one of FazCo's old holding facilities? The mers are hurt and scared, but you are determined to make up for your past failure. You are going to take care of them, even if it kills you. And with two traumatized mers to contend with, it just might.

| Words: 36,072 | Chapters: 3/?

🌑Charm Brought It Back by NaffEclipse

Witch!Sun, Witch!Moon, Witch!Eclipse x Human!Y/N

~~ [AU: naffeclipse, jackofallrabbits. Designs: naffeclipse, jackofallrabbits, deliasmoothie]

The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude!

| Words: 26,680 | Chapters: 5/5

☀️Of Fools in Gilded Masks by CloudyVoid, CrazedAuthor (AO3 account required)

RoyalJester/Prince!Sun, RoyalJester/Prince!Moon x Princess!Y/N

~~ [AU: @head-in-the-icloud, @crazedauthor. Designs: head-in-the-icloud]

When you're invited to the Kingdom of Pleiades to try and woo Prince Sun or Prince Moon's hands in marriage along with many other suitors, you are less than enthused.

During your stay however, you get acquainted with their court jesters Dawn and Dusk; two performers with such wild personalities much different to that of royalty. Dawn with their bubbly personality and quick witted jokes, Dusk with their small pranks and sleepy like attitude. You can't help but want to spend time with them instead of the princes you now avoid.

If only you knew that Dawn and Dusk, Prince Sun and Prince Moon, were one in the same.

| Words: 20,692 | Chapters: 2/?

🌑Apex Polarity by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

SirenOrca!Eclipse x Photographer!Y/N

~~ [AU: naffeclipse. Designs: naffeclipse, deliasmoothie]

In the Arctic, all is beautiful and cold and lethal. You tread over ice and underneath, a dark, powerful siren stalks you. Though you try to resist, you succumb to the lure of the mer and his decision to have you.

How do you survive an apex predator?

| Words: 125,998 | Chapters: 12/12

☀️Long Road Ahead by bubbiesaur

Samebody!Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Human!Reader

~~ [AU & Designs: @bubbiethesaur]

You didn't want a PleasureBot. You didn't need a PleasureBot. But here you were staring at a box from PleasureWorks (subsidiary of Fazbear Entertainment) and cursing your aunt. Just because you were alone doesn't mean you were unhappy. At least that's what you told yourself.

But when you open the package, you get a lot more than you bargained for. There's a long road ahead for the three of you...as long as you survive the first night.

| Words: 206,115 | Chapters: 18/?

🌑(Don't) Fear the Reaper by muzzle

CampCounselor!Sun, CampCounselor!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [AU & Designs: @muzzlemouths]

Ten years after the tragedy that befell Camp Cosmo, something stirs in the woods, growing restless. A simple phone call embroils you in the fate of six guilty counselors, haunted by their past and a vengeful shadow that won't soon let them forget.

Your own innocence is called into question when friends become enemies, placing a target on your back, and you're met with a choice: play along, or become the next victim.

| Words: 61,870 | Chapters: 7/10

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☀️Product Testing by Bearitt

Samebody!Sun/Moon x Staff!Reader

You’re not exactly sure why you were chosen for this specific task they gave you, other than that you basically signed your life away in the fine print of your work contract and can’t really refuse what they ask of you but nonetheless it still makes you wonder. 

| Words: 2,152 | Chapters: 1/1

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🔞The Pizzaplex Nighttime Mechanic by crickyluv

Same body!Sun/Moon, Glitch!Eclipse x Mechanic!Reader

~~ [AU: @crickyluv. Sun Design: crickyluv. Eclipse,Moon Design: crickyluv, deliasmoothie]

You finally got the job as the nighttime mechanic at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex! Unfortunately, you get a double shift. At least you get to spend time fixing the animatronic you knew best: Sun!

This is a slow burn that eventually turns into NSFW. There is a TON to get to before the spice comes.

| Words: 223,793 | Chapters: 49/?

🔞I Watched You Become a Stranger & How to Lure a Handler by IcedMetalTea (AO3 account required)

Mer!Sun, Mer!Moon x Handler!Y/N

~~ [AU & Designs: @icedmetaltea]

You work at one of the few aquariums cleared to house merfolk as a handler for twin mers who live in a sort of petting pool targeted at kids, as they've proven to be harmless to humans through the years. You spend your days taking care of them and supervising their interactions with the public.

You arrive at the exhibit for your early morning shift and, as you prepare for the day's visitors, the automatic door to the room malfunctions and slams shut while you're inside. You find yourself trapped with no sources of food, and the two creatures who have a very big appetite.

| Words: 14,041 | Chapters: 2/2

🔞Demon support by Megafacts

Demon!Sun x Demon!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [AU: @megafactuals. Designs: megafactuals, deliasmoothie]

You decide to try and summon a demon to destroy the world as a big bang to end all of humanity. Then earn the lavish life you wanted when you went to hell.

Instead you get two small demons who say they can satisfy your very desire, except the desire you called them for.

Bull. Shit.

| Words: 10,801 | Chapters: 2/?

🔞Love for the endangered by Megafacts

Seahorse!Sun x Seahorse!Moon x Researcher!Y/N

~~ [AU: @megafactuals. Designs: megafactuals, deliasmoothie]

You worked as a researchers for endangered species at a sanctuary.

One day, two of the newly discovered seahorse merfolk species come into the sanctuary after being caught in a net left in the ocean. Instead of releasing them back to the wild, the upper ranks at the sanctuary decide to use them for a breeding program.

Over the next few months you must decide to help your new friends escape or force them to spend their first mating cycle trapped inside of the sanctuary.

| Words: 28,299 | Chapters: 2/2

🔞We Can Serve You Better, Than They Can by Bearitt

RoyalGuard!Sun x RoyalGuard!Moon x Princess!Y/N

~~ [AU & Designs: @flusteredfools]

It wasn’t your fault, none of it was but you were the one who was punished and both Sir Sun and Sir Moon hated that. It was the King’s affair with the Sorcerer that caused your unfortunate fate. He played with the wrong heart, made too many promises with no intent to keep them; and you, kind, sensitive, beautiful, youngest of seven royal children, last in line to the throne, originally the King’s favorite child, you took the punishment.

A curse of lust, only to be cured by someone who truly loves you for more than what lies skin deep filling you up entirely; true love, they scoff. Every day as the sun sets, your body lights with an inner fire, every touch you feel feels hundreds times more sensitive to you and you yearn and beg for someone to hold you, fill you and ease the flames you feel burning inside.

In the King’s attempt to keep his secret and your curse hidden, he built you your own annex; a few trusted servants, staff and just you, furthest away from everyone else until you were able to find your true love and lift the curse. 

| Words: 26,266 | Chapters: 5/5

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🔞Reeling You In by BrainrotObsessions

Mer!Sun, Mer!Moon x Handler!Y/N

As their handler, Sun and Moon relentlessly attempted to court you, often in ways that just came out needy, as cute as it was. As much as you loved them, you constantly had to hold back from returning those affections. But over time, it was slowly cracking away at your resolve.

A new tactic is what finally gets you to break.

| Words: 12,965 | Chapters: 2/2

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🔞Tempting the Stars by H_Grail

SamebodyAndroid!Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Technician!Y/N

You’re a Repair Technician that lives at the Pizzaplex, nothing weird about that. The days are filled with the hustle of making sure that the characters are in tip-top shape, well all the characters except for the Daycare Attendant.

You’ve never seen them and they have their own tech, but what happens when suddenly that tech has to take an indefinite leave of absence and you are the one that is responsible for filling in the position?

| Words: 45,815 | Chapters: 7/7

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SMALL IMPORTANT EXTRA NOTE

If you have any fic you wish to recommend me, please do! Though that will not guarantee it entering this list. And do consider that, as the title says and as I stated at the start, the fics added to this list are soley X READER/YN thus the relationship between the reader and the DCA is romantic or queerplatonic to some degree or can be interpreted as so <3

2025 carat revival : bias week wonwoo and his nose scrunch🥺 [source: x x x x ]

I've been thinking about Mr Reca as of late and I just keep coming back to the idea that he would literally just act like Gomez Addams around his lover.

I simply refuse to believe that this melodramatic man simply would not kiss the ground his darling walks on, constantly showering them in praises and whenever he wins an award for his movies, everyone is either holding themselves back from facepalming from annoyance or they're busting out the tissue box because here comes Mr Reca's famously long speeches about his precious lover.

And in a yandere context, I'm just imagining a darling who is constantly fed up with his antics but is too hooked on the attention to really leave. There's a bit of a toxic power dynamic here as Reca knows that he is doing too much, that he is being far too intense which makes you uncomfortable, which may or may not prompt you to leave him for a little while.

But oh, how you miss your dear director, how you miss the way he'd shower you in kisses and praise, making you feel like the brightest star in the whole galaxy.

The mere thought of him makes your chest heave. It's so unfair but you want him so badly.

And Reca, he would find you and would just crawl back to you like the lovesick man that he is, begging you to please take him back, he can't live without you, he needs you.

And you let him, you let him find you, you allow him to come crawling back to you like a slobbering dog, clinging onto you like a bear. You inhale his intoxicating scent and it overpowers you completely, much to Reca's delight.

He's so awful but you're no better either.

✧Snapchats Choi San Would Send You✧

୨୧ 𝘒𝘪𝘮 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 + 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 + 𝘑𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 + 𝘒𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 + 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘚𝘢𝘯 + 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 + 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 + 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘑𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 ୨୧

୨୧ These posts/ this series was inspired by @hum4n-e4ter!! Please go make sure to check out their posts as well 🤍 ୨୧

୨୧ Taglist : @baby-stay92 ୨୧

your anniversary with long distance boyfriend jongho

seonghwa • hongjoong • yunho • yeosang • san • mingi • wooyoung • jongho

request: Can you maybe do a fem reader with all Ateez members (seperate^^) being in a long distance relationship and either the reader or the members are surprising the other for their anniversary?

genre: smau/texts, fluff, humour/crack

tags/warnings: a lot of nonsense (again), use of pet names

✧Snapchats Jeong Yunho Would Send You✧

୨୧ 𝘒𝘪𝘮 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 + 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 + 𝘑𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 + 𝘒𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 + 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘚𝘢𝘯 + 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 + 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘞𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 + 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘑𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 ୨୧

୨୧ These posts/ this series was inspired by @hum4n-e4ter !! Please go make sure to check out their posts as well 🤍 ୨୧

messaging them "i heard you have a crush on me." when you're already in a relationship w them ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus mostly fluff, slight slight slight suggestive on xavi and sylus

map of the soul — ryomen sukuna.

immortal sukuna thinks that one time for the present. maybe two times for the past, repeating over and over. but it really doesn't matter, when he's happy that he's with you. he's happy no matter what, because you met each other again.

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, fluff, angst, romance, reincarnation, immortality, ambuiguity, hurt/comfort, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, grief, pining, crying, humor, domestic, death, light-hearted, happy ending, depictions of character death, depiction of pining, depiction of immortality, mention of grief, mention of accidents, mention of pining, immortal! sukuna, reincarnated! reader;

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

persona

immortal sukuna who — in your first life (1).

immortal sukuna who — in your first life (2).

immortal sukuna who — in your first life (3).

immortal sukuna who — in your first life (4).

make it right

immortal sukuna who — in your second life (1).

immortal sukuna who — in your second life (2).

shadow

immortal sukuna who — in your third life (1).

immortal sukuna who — in your third life (2).

louder than bombs

immortal sukuna who — in your fourth life (1).

my time

moon

the eternal

I hate you (4/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna and you are not dating, he makes it very clear.

Content Warning:ANGST? (It's angsty but it also makes me angry ig?) Enemies to lovers, Sukuna is his own warning, mention of sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). This is a +18 post so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you.

A/N: Hi besties! I was planning on posting this earlier but the cat distribution system reached me again and delivered a little kitten to my house haha so I've been busy all day with that.

<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Taglist:

@beautifulwitchcandy @divineascensionz @yunho-leeknow @jun1p3rlol @starriesworlds @orikiix @vladsgirlxx @paradisestarfishh @animereaderinsertwriter @lastsubstance @moonchhu @vorfreudevortex @that-willowtree @v1x3n @gojoscumsluttt @wrldtups @frootloopscos @aldebrana @kidd3ath

'GOLDEN HOUR: Part.2' Jacket Making Film | YUNHO (#2)

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

random bf!ateez texts pt. ii

a/n: couldn’t sleep so here we are ahaha (HELP)

IN PLAIN SIGHT YOU HID / BUT YOU ARE WHAT YOU DID

katsuki bakugou x reader

same concept as the boyfriend thoughts ❅ breakup version

inspired by the smallest man who ever lived

katsuki bakugou, who, towards the end, wonders if any of it was true. he tried to picture you, gazing at him starry eyed. but those days are gone, and his heart hurts thinking of this future.

katsuki bakugou, who swears that in some other universe, things are okay. who knows that somewhere else in the world, he’s sitting across from you on the kitchen table, going over the grocery list. who gives you more time and more space, and who actually listens to what you say.

katsuki bakugou, who’s got a reputation. who starts dating you when the everyone hated him, and you loved him. who breaks things off with everyone loving him, and losing you.

katsuki bakugou, who can’t control his temper anymore. who is always an asshole, but who snaps when someone breaths wrong. who misses you more than anything, and copes with it by making it everyone elses problem. who relies on kirishima at night to keep him sane, tearing his heart out to his best friend over the phone.

katsuki bakugou, who hung you on his wall and stabbed you with his push pins. who, in public, loved to show you off. who knew he was nothing like that in private. who knew you deserved so much better but was too selfish to wanna let you go. who wishes he could turn back time and be what you deserved.

katsuki bakugou, who keeps all of your photos on his phone. who doesn’t even dare deleting them. who avoids his camera roll like the god damn plague. who wants to cry when he finally does delete everything, staring at the 1,768 deleted photos in his recently deleted folder. who replays old voice mails. who sometimes calls you and listens to it, because he knows you won’t answer.

katsuki bakugou, who you’re sure was sent by someone who wanted you dead. who tells you that its for your own good, that he needs to think things through. he books you an uber back to your apartment, and who helps you pack your things. who tells you he’s too busy, that he has to put his job first. who you can’t even argue with.

katsuki bakugou, who seemed like he was always ready to break your heart. who slept with a gun underneath your bed. who once loved you so tenderly, so delicately, and who know acts like you don’t exist. who you can’t quite declassify, not even if you had 50 years. who makes you wonder if he’ll ever confess why he did it. good riddance.

katsuki bakugou, who you see with other people, in news articles and through whispers from your friends. who thinks its sexy now that its not forbidden. who uses meaningless sex to mask how badly he misses you. who sleeps next to a stranger but dreams of you.

katsuki bakugou, who hops on a plane to LA. he tells everyone its to follow in all might’s footsteps, and he’s not lying- but apart of it is to escape his pain. who sees your face everywhere. who smells your scent on his sweaters. who finds one of your hairties in his jeans pocket and holds onto it like a god damn lifeline.

katsuki bakugou, who deserves prison for what he’s done to you, but won’t serve time. who watches as the media tears you to shreds, blaming you for the breakup. who tries to stop it but is rendered powerless when he sees how the heartbreak has been turned into entertainment. who hates that all of this has happened because you loved him.

katsuki bakugou, who slips through the bars. who’s thumb hovers over your contact during a late night. who fucked up. who misses you and just wants to love you once more. who wants to change his prophecy, fearing that this might kill him. who misses you stronger than anything he’s ever felt.

katsuki bakugou, who you miss just as much. who you dream about every night. who still hurts you, even when its something small like his name brought up in conversation. who makes you wonder what went wrong. who crashes your parties and your rental cars just thinking about him.

katsuki bakugou, who doesn’t expect your forgiveness, and wants you to forget. who watches your life through the glass, over the years as you move on. who knows that nothing will change what he’s done, and has to lie in that bed. who knows he hasn’t wasted a single ounce of his love, because all of it is yours to keep. who is the smallest man who’s ever lived.

part 2 where he gets redemption? u guys lmk 🫧

SHE SAID IT'S HER FIRST TIME! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...older bf!nanami finds out he’s your first time and he intends to make it very special

INFO...older bf!nanami x virgin fem!reader, age gap (earlier 20s, early 30s), virginity loss, consent checks, praise, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy eating, penetration, slight blood, slight crying, creampie, nanami grows kinda feral, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Having Nanami as an older boyfriend was such a joy. The maturity, thoughtfulness, communication, love, commitment, and patience you received from him was more than you could have ever asked for. You were always so open with him, telling him everything and just being the annoying girl friend you were. But, there is one thing that you’ve kept hidden for the last six months of your relationship.

Every time things got heated between you Nanami while making out or getting handsy, you always backed out last minute telling him that you “weren’t ready” and he always understood and respected your boundaries. Though, you are ready. If you were to lose your virginity to anyone you’d want it to be your sweet loving boyfriend. But voices in the back of your head start to make you overthink, wonder if he’ll even want you anymore if you confess to him.

It isn’t until you’re here on his bed, hands tangled in his hair while kiss him slowly, passionately. His hands are roaming all over your body, still careful to be respectful. You’re pushing into him, smiling in between kisses. “Have I ever told you how much of an amazing kisser you are?” He chuckles, peppering kisses along your jawline.

A blissful sigh escapes your lips before you answer, “no.” You shake your head, his lips traveling lower down to your neck. Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, enjoying the moment. His tongue glides along the skin of your neck, gently sucking and kissing, earning little whimpers from you as a reward. His hand grabs at your leg, hooking in over his waist as he pushes his hips into you.

Your breathing grows shallow, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. You gulp, feeling things grow more intense with each passing second before you push Nanami away. “I’m sorry, Kento, I just—”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand you want to take your time with this kind of thing.” He gently grabs your hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. His brows furrowed as he studies your features, eyes wandering every where else but into his. “What’s wrong, hm? You know you can talk to me,” he says in the most smooth voice, one that makes you wanna spill every secret. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. “Sweetheart?” He draws out the pet name, he knows something is on your mind.

“Ken, I feel bad for keeping this from you for so long, but,” you sigh, fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt, “I’m a…virgin.” You finally look in his eyes, clenching your jaw. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, ears ringing loudly it almost drowns out your heart beat.

His lips part, eyes widening at your words. Deafening silence falls upon you like a tidal wave and you feel the embarrassment rush in. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything I…I’m just gonna go.” You quickly scramble to your feet, grabbing your sweater from off of his bedroom floor. Maybe those voices in your head were right. Why would a man like Kento want anything to do with an inexperienced girl like you, compared to a woman who would know how to please him, give him a what he wants.

Just as you were about to walk out his bedroom, you feel a tug at your arm pulling you back until you hit his broad chest. “Where are you going?” He asked, looking at you. “I never said to leave, sweetheart.” He walks you back over to the bed, taking your sweater from your hands and placing it on the back of his chair. You sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for the next words to leave his mouth. Eyes follow his every movement, watching the way he walks over to you and kneels down in front you, grabbing your hands in his. “Look at me.” And you do, eventually, meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

You find it hard to speak, to even get a peep out. Nerves are shot and it feels like your stomach is twisting in knots. “I just thought that—”

“That I’d be upset you’re a virgin?” He asked, putting it all out there. You nodded your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sweetheart,” he chuckles, flashing a smile at you, “you’re too cute for your own good.” He caresses your cheek. “No wonder you’ve been so nervous each time we’ve made out.” He licks his lips, taking a deep breath in before speaking again, “listen, we don’t have to rush into anything. You should’ve just told me, but I understand your feelings.”

You blink a couple of times, your heart rate finally drops, feeling more comfortable with the situation. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders, and even more importantly, you were glad Nanami took it so well. “But, I am ready.” You look away from him.

“What?” His brows furrowed, confusion written on his face.

“I’ve been ready, just been scared, nervous…I don’t know.” You shrug, your voice getting quieter with each word you say.

His hand comes up to your cheek, gently cupping it as he directs your gaze back towards him for the millionth time. “Are you asking me to be your first?” He asks in such a gentle tone, eyes carrying a look of adoration in them. Sheepishly, you nod.

“Always wanted it to be you, Ken. You’re so kind to me, and so patient,” you admit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, “I’d love nothing more than to be your first.” He kisses the top of your hand, soft lip pressing against your skin as he stares into your eyes. “We’ll go at your pace, yeah?” He smirks.

Everything in you is telling you to pounce on this man and go at it like animals with how he was treating you. It only made him a hundred more times attractive than he already was. Your lips find his as you both fall back onto the bed, resuming the make out session from minutes ago, only this time it’ll actually lead somewhere. The kisses felt more feverish, more passionate, something that’d you been craving this entire time.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He asked, placing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll take mine off too.”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. The fabric slipped over your head, your first instinct was to cover your chest, feeling completely vulnerable in this position. His hands carefully undid your pants, pulling them down along with your panties, discarding the items of clothing on the wood floor. You covered yourself up, shutting your legs and holding your chest.

As you watched him get undressed, your eyes landed upon the obvious tent in his shorts, leaving you turned on. His body seemed liked it was carved from the gods, toned biceps, shredded six pack. He looked like he could just easily toss you around, put in whatever position he wanted. Not to mention, you could see how big he was through his boxers, your nerves starting to wrack up again as you began to wonder if it’d even fit. And once he pulled them down, your eyes widened and worry flooded your face.

Nanami let out a light laugh at the look on your face. “What’s the matter?” He asked, rubbing his hands over your thighs.

“Do you think it’ll fit? It’s just…really big, Ken.” Your eyes couldn’t help but wander. He was thick, and slightly long, which is reasonable excuse for your worry.

“It might hurt a little, sweetheart, but that’s why I need to prepare you, yeah? Make it feel good for my sweet girl. Now, don’t hide yourself from me, okay? I wanna see all of you, praise all of you.” He leaned over, kissing your lips again, trailing down further with each one. His hands replaced yours, gently groping your tits, squeezing them in his hands. “Such soft and pretty tits.” He kissed each one. “Can I suck on them? I promise you it’ll feel good.”

Once he gets your approval, he wastes no time, his lips latching onto your hard nipple, hot tongue swirling around the bud. His eyes fluttered shut, a muffled moan escaping his lips. Your hands find themselves in his hair, little pants and whimpers leaving your lips at the foreign sensation. His other hand pulls at your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he gets lost in thought. He pulls his head up, hazy eyes staring back at you. “Doing okay, baby?” He asks.

“Yes, please keep going.” You bite down on your bottom lip, earning a smile from his as he moves over to your other nipple, tip of his tongue circling over the sensitive skin before taking it in his mouth, suckling on it. “Mmm, Ken,” you whimper, tugging at his hair.

“Feeling good?” He places kisses all over your tits, his touches so gentle. You buck your hips up towards him, grinding against him. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re feeling needy, aren’t you, baby? Go on, you can tell me.” The flat of his tongue lays against your nipple again, slowly licking, teasing you.

You bring your hand up to your face, covering it, too embarrassed to look at him, to let him hear you. But with each flick of his tongue more whimpers spill out of you, overflowing. His warm lips press kisses to your sternum, traveling down towards your stomach, getting lower and lower until you jolt up. “What…what are you doing?” You ask, dumbly. It was clear what his intentions were with his mouth just inches away from your cunt.

“Just sit back and relax.” He caresses your side. “Open up for me, wanna get a taste,” he murmurs. He gently pushes your thighs open, scooting lower on the bed. His mouth slightly parts, eyes gravitating towards your wet cunt. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” he chuckles, looking up at you. He rests his head against your thighs, lips kissing your skin, worshipping you, savoring you. He plans to tease you as much as possible, he wants you ready.

You body twitches when you feel his fingers ghost over your throbbing cunt, light touches making you yearn for something you’ve never even had before. He kisses down your thighs and towards your pussy, pausing when he finally reaches. He looks up at you for approval and when you scoot your hips closer towards him with the cutest whimper, he dips his head down between your legs and presses the slowest kisses on your clit. The way you gasp makes him smirk, he wonders how you’ll sound when he uses his tongue.

Finally, you feel the flat of his hot tongue dip between your soaked folds, pushing its way up your slit and finding your clit. You sit up on your elbows, brows furrowing in pleasure as Nanami wraps your his arms around your thighs, holding your hips in place. He moans against you, pulling you closer towards him as he starves for more of your taste.

He flicks his tongue across your clit, his chin coated in your juices before he moves his tongue lower, tongue fucking you. You bite down on your plump lower lip, quietly moaning while your eyes watch his every movement, like you were studying him. His tongue slithers back to your clit, circling it before he gently sucks on it. “Hah, fuck,” you gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his blonde locks of hair.

He lifts his head, licking his lips to not waste any drop of you. “Hey, pretty girl, can we try something?” His voice is gentle, a sense of security in it. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The pad of his thumb rubs your clit in circles, his other hand caresses your thigh. “Wanna try fingering you while I eat this pretty pussy, get you ready for me,” he explains.

You gulp, nervously looking down at his hands. “Will it hurt as much?” You ask.

“Might hurt a little, but it’ll help. I’ll make you feel good, baby. I never wanna hurt you.” He sits up, moving closer towards you.

You nod slowly, “okay,” you meekly say. Nanami, wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting your leg around him as you both lay on your sides.

“You ready?” He asks, kissing your cheek, his fingers rubbing your slick over your entrance and back over your clit, trying to get you prepared. “Just gonna do one finger for now until you want more,” he whispers into your ear. Slowly, he slides his thick digit into your entrance and you immediately let out a pained sigh. He removes his finger, pressing another kiss to you cheek. “Take your time, baby. You’re okay. Hold on to me if it gets too much.” He continues rubbing your clit in slow circles until you give him the nod of approval to try again.

He pushes his finger past your folds, feeling your walls clench around him as he goes inch by inch. “Mmm.” Your eyes screw shut as you cling onto his broad shoulders, feeling the sting of the stretch. He finally gets it all the way through and you’re panting, clawing at his skin.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he reassures. “Hey, look at me,” he grabs your face in his direction, “it’s okay.” He kisses your lips as you whimper against his. “I’m gonna start moving my hand now.” You hold onto him tighter, the burn making you wince as he pulls his hand back and pushes his finger back in, slightly gaining in speed.

You can’t seem to look away from him, melting into his touch as the pain slowly turned to pleasure, feeling your body accept him just like you wanted this entire time. He presses his forehead against yours, bodies pressed up against one another as you fight back the urge to kiss him until you’re breathless. Your hips rock into his hand, following his movements. “Want more,” you whimper, nodding at him.

“Want more, pretty? Yeah?” He pecks your lips, carefully sliding his ring finger into your entrance. You whine at the stretch, taking in a deep breath when you feel his fingers curl up, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your cunt squelches around his fingers, sucking them in. “You’re doing such a good job,” he whispers, working fingers faster until you’re a moaning mess.

Wet kisses make their way down your neck, moving lower down to your chest as he repositions himself at the end up of the bed, fingers still curling inside you. He pushes one of your legs back, eyes intently watching the way your pussy takes his fingers so well. Without warning, the flat of his tongue presses down your swollen clit. “Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping at the sheets below you. Your body shivers with pleasure, the sensation of his tongue and fingers sending you to cloud nine.

Your head falls back on the pillow, eyes rolling back, legs threatening to close around his head. He slurps your pussy, tongue working its way through your folds to get every last drop. He’s moaning at your taste, breathing heavily through his nose. His hand pushes your leg back farther, nearly up to your chest, as he works hard to drive that orgasm out of you. “Ah! Oh my gosh!” You cry out, clutching at his hair, pushing his head down when he sucks on your sensitive clit once more. “Ken, baby, I think—fuck!” You squeal, rocking your hips on his face. Your legs close around his head as your orgasm arrives, body quivering, and every touch is heightened. That doesn’t stop Nanami, low eyes watching how prettily your back arches off the bed, your walls squeezing his fingers. “Hah! Ah! Yes!” You moan.

Nanami finally lifts his head, chest heaving up and down as he looks at you with the most love in his eyes. “Fuck, baby, you did so good. Come here.” He rushes to plant his lips on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His dick is throbbing, oozing pre from the tip just from watching you cum. “You alright?” He asks, petting your cheek.

“I’m okay.” You nod. “Thank you.” The sweetest smile spreads across your face, one that makes his chest fill with warmth. “But, I think I’m finally ready.” You look down towards where you two meet, only inches away from one another.

“You sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want you to be comfortable,” he says softly.

“I promise I am. Just…go slow,” anxiousness riddled your tone.

“Of course. Let me know at any time if you wanna stop.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. The nerves build in your chest, and your stomach fills with butterflies. He repositions his hips, rubbing his length through your folds, smearing his precum. He lightly groans, slowly moving up and down, nudging your clit with each thrust. Nanami notices you watching, he can see you’re still nervous. “Baby, look at me, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” He gently grabs your face, staring into your eyes before his fat tip pushes its way through your folds. Your eyebrows raise in surprise before furrowing. He goes as slow as possible before removing himself, letting you take a breather.

You spread your legs further before another attempt, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushes into you again, inch by inch you feel the stretch, the stinging sensation making you grit your teeth. “Ah!” You bury your face in his neck, when you feel his hips finally meet with yours.

Tears fall down your cheeks, and he’s quick to kiss them away. “I know it hurts, sweetheart. Let’s stay like this for a minute.” He wipes your tears, massaging your thighs as you try to accustom to his size. “Gonna start moving now.” He pulls his hips back, his length coated in a mix of your juices and slight blood. “Oh, your bleeding baby.” He looks at you with the most empathetic expression.

“Mmmph, sorry, I’m sorry.” A wave of embarrassment washes over you as it came to mind that it was most likely on his sheets.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s completely normal.” He kisses your lips as he pushes his hips against your again, the head of his cock grazing over a sweet spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?Hah, my sweet, sweet girl—fuck,” he breathily chuckles. And now he’s moving faster, wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. “So fucking tight,” he grunts.

You feel so full of him, like he was made for you. His dick dragging along your walls, his hands holding you close, wrapping around you as he whispers praises in your ear in the most sweetest voice. Your eyes roll back, nails leaving marks on his skin, your toes pointed. He’s fucking you into the mattress, but being oh so gentle about it. “It feels so good,” you mewl as he fucks you deep, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

“This pussy was made for me baby—oh shit—taking me so fucking well. You feel so fucking good,” he moans. He presses into you, each thrust sending your mind spiraling as shivers run down your spine, your body covered in sweat. Nanami squeezes you tightly, kissing your neck, and nibbling at the skin.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” It feels like your breath is being sucked out of you, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. “Gonna cum!” You cry out. “Hah—yes, yes!” He keeps the same rhythm, tip of his dick kissing your cervix before your shaking under him.

He holds you tightly, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as you cum around his dick. Your hands cup his face, searching his eyes. “That’s my girl, let it all out,” he says. He can feel you clenching down on him, the feeling making his dick throb harder. “Always be my good girl, right baby?” He asks. And all you can do is nod, when he starts fucking you faster, almost like he’s grown feral. “It’s good that you know because I’m about to fuck you like you aren’t.” He pushes your knees to your chest, lifting your hips slightly so that he reaches the deepest parts of you. “Nngh, fuck!” He grunts.

“Ken! Oh fuck, fuck!” You squeeze your eyes shut, the bed rocking and creaking with each other his hard thrusts. A hand clasps over your mouth in a weak attempt to muffle your screams of pleasure.

“Pussy feels so good, sweetheart. Can’t get enough—fuck—I’m sorry,” he heavily pants. Strands of blonde hair cling to his forehead, eyes fixated on watching his dick disappears in and out of you, your pussy creaming around him, leaving a white ring around the base. He can feel you clenching down on him again, your nails leaving crescent marks in his forearms as you’re cumming for a third time tonight, barely able to form words. “Atta girl. Look so pretty cumming on my cock,” he smirks.

Your back arches into him, legs quivering as he thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier. “Nnngh, shit,” he moans. “Gonna make me cum—ah!” His brows furrow as he fucks you harder, a primal feeling rises in him as he thinks of cumming inside of you for the first time ever. “Baby,” he says with desperation, “baby, let me cum inside you.” A rosy red spreads across his cheeks as he stares into your eyes.

Your arms reach out to him, dragging him down for kiss, legs locking around his waist as you push him closer to you. Nanami groans into the kiss and you swallow every last one as his seed fills you up, coating your walls. He slowly fucks you, making sure to get every last drop of his cum in you before pulling out.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” he chuckles, a glint in his eyes. You laugh with him before he rolls both of you over, you now on top of him. He caresses your cheek and you melt into his hand, a blissful sigh leaving your lips. “You did absolutely amazing.” He smiles. “You doing okay, though?” He wonders, fingertips tracing patters on the small of your back.

“Yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes shut, “I’m doing great actually.” You smile. You rest your head on his chest. “Thank you, Ken.”

“No, thank you. I’m glad that you trusted me to be your first, honestly. It means a lot to me.” He kisses the crown of your head. “You’ll always be my girl.” He continues tracing your skin.

“Really?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. “Promise me?” You pout, batting your lashes.

“I promise.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lips before you press a kiss to it. He chuckles at the small gesture. “Let’s get in the shower, together, yeah? Maybe order some food? You deserve it.”

Pov : he's comforting you🩵

instagram stories w/ bf!hongjoong

hongjoong, seonghwa, yunho, yeosang, san, mingi, wooyoung, jongho

“what would you do if i broke up with you?” // bf!ateez texts

a/n: hi yes hello, I’m working on a masterlist because I’ve posted more than I meant to without having one. Whether or not it will be done soon is the question 😁

warnings: swearing, a bomb threat because extreme threats that are insane considering what’s happening are so funny to me