oh, my username? i said what i said

[zikariogirl]

— the bodyguard and the secret.

chapter seventeen

ch 16 here

⋆⁺₊⋆ pairing: fem!reader x sanemi

⋆⁺₊⋆ summary: sanemi shinazugawa. your bodyguard by order, your tormentor by nature. but while he glares at shadows, he doesn’t realize the real secret is the one you carry inside you.

The training wasn’t too bad in the beginning.

At first, it was simple—controlled, measured, almost gentle.

Tamayo started you with the basics of your blood manipulation: coaxing droplets from your skin, shaping them, directing them, forcing your will into something that had always terrified you.

Then came the healing exercises—tending to small wounds on injured Corps members, finding the delicate balance between intention and instinct. For the first time, you could feel your power, not as a curse, but as something you could command.

Then the regime shifted.

Mitsuri became your combat trainer, and this was an entirely different kind of exhaustion. She stretched you until your muscles trembled, pushed you through hand-to-hand drills, flipped you, tossed you, corrected your stance with gentle taps and sunny praise. By the end of the second week your joints ached, your arms burned, and walking felt like dragging your bones across gravel—but you still showed up every morning, breathless and determined.

And every day, Renji was there.

Quiet. Supportive. Watching from the sidelines like a shadow that refused to leave you.

Tamayo’s tests only grew harsher. She checked your reaction to vials of human blood—easy, surprisingly easy. Years of tending to wounded Corps members had hardened you to the scent, and you handled it without flinching.

But the sunlight…

That became the real nightmare.

From beneath the engawa, Tamayo observed you as you stepped out into the open. The second the rays touched your skin, the burn hit—sharp, vicious, searing. Your flesh blistered in seconds. You clenched your teeth, staggering but refusing to fall, holding on to the last threads of endurance until your vision blurred. You made it—maybe two minutes, maybe less—before you sprinted back under the shade, skin smoking, every nerve screaming.

“Good,” Tamayo murmured calmly. “Again.”

And then she trained you to heal those burns.

To endure them.

To rebuild yourself from the pain.

Every day but one, you trained.

Every day but one, you bled, healed, sweated, and pushed yourself further.

And every day but one, Sanemi kept his distance—as if the mere sight of you poisoned the air he breathed.

Renji, though… Renji stayed for every second.

He stood on the sidelines with a towel, or a canteen, or simply his presence. Sometimes Mitsuri joked that he looked like a worried husband. Sometimes Yushiro mumbled that he was “hovering more than the Wind Hashira ever did.” And in those moments, your heart softened. Warmed. Ached.

Because you knew.

You knew how he felt.

And as grateful as you were, as comforting as his presence could be, your chest tightened with guilt. You didn’t want to cling to him just because you were hurting. You didn’t want to reach for him simply because Sanemi refused to look at you anymore.

You didn’t want to break Renji.

Not when his feelings were so painfully clear.

Not when you weren’t sure you could survive hurting one more person—especially someone who never deserved it.

Your heart warmed at his support…

But it throbbed, too.

Because you already knew.

If he fell for you any deeper…

You wouldn’t know how to forgive yourself.

The evening was quiet, warm, and painted with dusky oranges as you and Renji sat on the engawa steps outside the training hall. The air smelled faintly of grilled meat from the Kakushi cookhouse, and both of you were sharing a pair of freshly made skewers—the kind Mitsuri always devoured in four bites.

Renji handed you one first, soft smile tugging beneath his mask.

“You burned a hole through that tree earlier,” he said, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “That’s progress.”

You huffed, taking a small bite. “It took me two weeks to do that.”

“And? Two weeks is good.”

He leaned back on his palms, mask tilted toward the sky. “You’re learning something no one in the Corps has ever done before. You should be proud.”

You stared at the meat skewer, suddenly not hungry.

“Renji…”

Your voice came out softer than you intended.

He turned to you immediately, and the knot in your stomach twisted.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Not the way he looked at you.

Not the way your heart tightened with gratitude and guilt each time he sat beside you.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the wooden stick.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you murmured, eyes dropping to your lap. “You’ve been… you’ve been so good to me. And I just… I don’t want you to think I’m leaning on you because of everything that’s happened. Or because I’m trying to fill some.. some empty space. I don’t want to lead you on. I care about you so much, but—”

Renji shook his head and gently cut you off.

“I know.”

The way he said it—soft, steady, accepting—made your chest throb.

“I know exactly how you feel,” he continued, finally lifting his hands to remove his mask. His expression was open, sincere, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache. “And I’m not asking you for anything. I’m not expecting you to return whatever I feel.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going, voice trembling just slightly.

“But I’m also not afraid of getting hurt.”

You inhaled sharply.

Renji shot you a small, sad smile, but proud.

“I like you,” he admitted. “A lot. More than I should, maybe. And I know I don’t stand a chance right now. Maybe not ever.”

His fingers brushed yours, tentative but warm.

“But I’m still going to try to be someone worthy of you.”

Your breath hitched.

“And if I’m not the one you choose…”

He exhaled softly, gaze dropping to the half-eaten skewer in his hand.

“I’ll understand. Really. I’ll be grateful I got to feel this at all.”

Your throat tightened painfully.

“Renji…”

He lifted his eyes again—beautifully gentle, heartbreakingly hopeful.

“You don’t have to tell me anything right now,” he said. “Just… let me stay by you. As long as you’ll allow it.”

And something inside you cracked.

Not because you didn’t care.

But because you did.

The moment Renji finished speaking, you didn’t know what to say. You could still feel the echo of his confession lingering between you, quiet but heavy, like a warm blanket you didn’t know whether to wrap yourself in or run from.

So instead… you leaned your head against his shoulder.

Renji instantly froze.

You felt the way his breath caught in his chest before he relaxed, his posture softening as the tension melted out of him. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—he just let you rest there, as if he was afraid anything more might scare you away.

The evening air was cool, cicadas humming softly in the distance. You both sat on the engawa steps, trading bites from your skewers as the courtyard lanterns flickered.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

The kind that made your heart ache.

Because Renji was everything gentle.

Everything safe.

Everything steady in a world that kept pulling the ground out beneath you.

Part of you wanted to fall into that comfort.

The other part whispered a name you were desperately trying not to think about.

Renji must’ve felt your spiraling thoughts, because he nudged you lightly with his shoulder.

“So…” he said, voice light, trying to pull you back into something warm. “If we get married one day, does that mean you’ll be the one who carries me?”

You choked on your food.

A laugh burst out of you—a real one, loud and surprised—before you shoved him so hard he nearly fell off the steps.

“RENJI—!!!” you sputtered.

“I’m just asking!” he gasped dramatically, catching his balance as he held his skewer up like a shield. “You’re stronger than me! It’s a fair question!”

“You’re impossible,” you mumbled, still laughing as you wiped your eyes.

He grinned, cheeks pink behind the curtain of his hair.

And despite everything, the chaos, the heartbreak, the curse, the training, the fear.

You felt… safe.

Safe enough to smile.

Safe enough to lean against him again.

Safe enough to forget, just for a moment, the storm waiting in your chest.

Renji didn’t push for more.

He didn’t demand answers.

He didn’t take your laugh or your closeness as a promise.

He just sat beside you, warm and quiet and patient.

And somehow… that made the confusion in your heart even harder to untangle.

-

Sanemi wasn’t spying.

No—he was checking the perimeter.

That’s what he told himself anyway.

But his jaw tightened the moment he saw you and that Kakushi sitting together under the engawa. Sharing skewers. Laughing. Your shoulder brushing his like it belonged there.

He hated the way something in his chest twisted.

Hated the heat crawling up his neck.

Hated that Renji kept leaning closer.

Sanemi gripped the wooden railing so hard it cracked beneath his fingers, and then a heavy hand slammed onto his shoulder.

“I’ll be damned,” a deep voice drawled behind him, “I never thought I’d live to see the day the Wind Hashira looked this pathetic.”

Sanemi spun around.

“Uzui?!”

There he was—tall, immaculate, shiny gold jewelry, one arm missing, one eye covered, still looking like he strutted straight out of a festival poster.

And absolutely unbothered.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Tengen sighed loudly, dramatically. “I came to visit the Corps. Bring my wives some gifts. Remind everyone I’m still the most flamboyant man alive—even with one arm.”

Sanemi grunted. “Good for you. Now leave.”

“No,” Tengen said flatly.

He hopped—very gracefully—onto the railing beside Sanemi and tilted his head toward the courtyard.

Toward you.

Laughing. Leaning into Renji. Smiling like your heart wasn’t broken just days ago.

Tengen whistled.

“Ohoho. So that’s why you look like you want to punch the sun itself.”

“I don’t—”

“Shinazugawa,” Tengen cut in, “your hair is literally bristling. You’re jealous. It’s embarrassing.”

Sanemi clenched his jaw hard enough to crack a tooth.

“I’m not jealous. I just—”

“—care about her?” Tengen finished, wearing the smuggest grin in the country.

Sanemi froze.

Tengen clapped his lone hand onto his thigh.

“Oh, this is rich. Absolutely rich. Your little flower cuddles up to some Kakushi and suddenly you’re brooding like a man half your age.”

“Don’t call her that,” Sanemi muttered, pulse spiking.

Tengen’s eyebrow shot up.

“Oh? What happened to all that cold, rude, ‘I-don’t-give-a-damn’ bravado?”

He leaned forward, eye narrowing.

“What happened between you two, Shinazugawa?”

Sanemi stared straight ahead.

Bitter heat rose in his chest.

“She lied,” he muttered.

“And you reacted poorly,” Tengen said, not even pretending to sugarcoat it. “You hurt her, she cried, and now she’s sitting with a Kakushi who actually treats her gently.”

Sanemi stiffened.

Tengen made a thoughtful noise.

“That boy, whatever his name is, seems to know how to stay. How to support her. How to listen. That’s very flamboyant on his end.”

Sanemi’s hands tightened until his knuckles blanched.

“I don’t need you lecturing me,” he snapped.

“Clearly you do,” Tengen said. “Because right now, that Kakushi is beating you without even trying.”

Sanemi whipped his head toward him.

Tengen continued, voice softer but sharper.

“She looked at you like you were her whole world, Shinazugawa. Even I could see it.”

He tapped his chest.

“One eye. Half blind. Still saw it.”

Sanemi’s breath hitched.

“But now?” Tengen nodded toward the courtyard. “She’s learning to laugh again, with someone who didn’t tear her apart.”

Sanemi’s throat burned as he swallowed hard.

“It’s… not simple,” he muttered.

Tengen sighed dramatically.

“Shinazugawa. You faced Upper Moons with less hesitation than you face your own feelings.”

He leaned close, voice dropping.

“And if you keep this up, your little flower will bloom in someone else’s hands.”

Sanemi felt that like a direct punch to the gut.

His stomach turned.

His heartbeat climbed into his throat.

His breath came uneven.

Tengen grinned slowly when he saw the panic flicker across his face.

“There it is,” he whispered. “The realization.”

He stood, dusted off his clothes, and gave Sanemi a final pat on the cheek, which earned a sharp glare.

“If you want her… fix it. If you don’t… walk away.”

He started down the courtyard, then paused and glanced back with a wicked smile.

“Also, judging by how close she’s sitting with that Kakushi, I’d hurry. He looks like he’s one confession away from proposing.”

And with that, Tengen strutted off, humming flamboyantly, leaving Sanemi standing there with his heart pounding, hands trembling, rage and longing twisting in his chest as he stared at you… and realized Tengen was right.

Sanemi never thought silence could piss him off.

It’s been a few days since his conversation with Tengen, and his words followed him everywhere. In every damn training session, every sleepless night, every moment he caught himself staring down in the direction of the Ubuyashiki estate.

He’d replayed every word he threw at you.

Every look on your face.

Every moment Renji stood too close, touched your shoulder, made you laugh.

It crawled under his skin and stayed there.

He kept trying to shrug it off. She lied. She’s a demon. It’s better this way.

But the more he repeated it, the more it tasted like ash in his mouth.

And now, at dusk, when the last rays of sunlight faded behind the mountains…

He found himself walking toward you.

He didn’t even know he’d decided to. His feet took him on their own, past the engawa, past the lanterns being lit by attendants, and into the inner courtyard of the Ubuyashiki estate.

He planned to talk.

Or try to.

But the moment he stepped into the courtyard, he froze.

There you were.

Alone.

Silhouetted by the fading purple sky.

You were shirtless, but wrapped tightly in bandages across your chest, arms bare, muscles defined from training, and skin glowing under the last touch of dusk.

You were upside down as you balanced yourself perfectly in a handstand. Slowly bending each leg, one at a time, to strengthen your balance and control.

The movements were fluid. Controlled. Beautiful, even.

Your breath was steady, your arms trembling with effort but steadying each time you focused.

Sanemi swallowed. Something hit him square in the chest.

Admiration.

Awe.

Longing he tried so damn hard to bury.

He took a small step forward, the gravel shifted under his sandal.

You heard it, and your eyes flickered open, glowing faintly in the dusk, and in surprise, you lost balance.

Sanemi darted forward as you tipped, your body falling to the side. He reached you just in time, catching you by the waist with both hands as your legs hit the ground.

Your breath hitched.

So did his.

You blinked up at him, chest heaving, bandaged, close enough that he could feel your breath on his jaw.

“…Sanemi?”

Your voice was soft. Uncertain.

His heart clenched painfully at the sound.

He swallowed hard and didn’t let go.

Not yet.

Not when this was the closest he’d been to you since the mountain.

Not when he’d spent days pretending he didn’t care.

He steadied you on your feet, but his hands lingered a second too long.

“…You’re practicing at this hour?” he muttered, his voice lower than he intended.

You pulled back, just enough to put distance between you, but not far enough to hide the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

“It’s… quieter at dusk,” you said, brushing dirt from your palms “I can focus better.”

Sanemi’s gaze flicked to the faint bruises on your ribs leftover from training.

To the scratches along your hip.

To the raw skin where you’d practiced blood manipulation.

You hurt yourself. Again. And again.

Trying to get stronger.

Guilt twisted suddenly in his stomach knowing he left you alone with that weight. He let you think he hated you. Let you face training, exhaustion, fear—while he avoided you like a coward.

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

“…I came to talk,” he muttered, eyes flicking away for a second.

He cursed internally at how awkward that sounded.

Your breath caught.

“Talk…?”

You asked it carefully, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to hope.

He nodded, but didn’t step closer… he didn’t trust himself to.

He couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t pretend he didn’t know what you were anymore because he realized something… every time he pushed you away, the ache in his chest only grew.

“I’m not here to fight,” Sanemi said quietly.

That alone made your lashes flutter in shock.

He inhaled slowly. “I just…” He clenched his jaw, trying to find words he’d never said to anyone. “…I needed to see you.”

The silence between you deepened, and he realized with painful clarity, that maybe letting go of you had hurt him more than anything he could remember.

You stepped back.

Not a big step—just far enough to break the closeness, far enough to remind yourself that your heart was not allowed to hope. Not after everything. Not after the way he looked at you on that mountain.

Your breath trembled as you avoided his gaze.

“I don’t want to talk,” you whispered.

Sanemi stiffened like you’d punched him in the ribs.

“…Please.”

That one word—please—coming out of his mouth?

It made your stomach twist.

You blinked at him, stunned, but you didn’t soften.

“Why now?” you breathed, voice tight. “Why talk now, after all this time?”

Sanemi swallowed, jaw clenching.

“I—”

“No,” you cut sharply, anger and heartbreak spilling into your tone. “You don’t get to show up and act like this is simple. Like you didn’t look at me like I was something disgusting.”

He exhaled through his nose, guilt flickering across his features.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“I felt horrible for lying,” your voice cracked, “I know I should’ve told you, and I take responsibility for that. All of it. But I was scared, Sanemi. I never meant harm. I never wanted to be what I am.”

He opened his mouth again, but you kept going, unable to stop, unable to hold back the hurt anymore.

“And even after everything we went through… after everything we survived…” your voice trembled harder, “you treated me like I was no different than the demons who hurt you.”

Sanemi’s breath barely hitched, but you saw it.

“I was scared,” you whispered. “I still am.”

A long silence fell.

Sanemi stared at you, chest rising and falling too fast. Something raw, unguarded, flickered in his eyes—guilt so sharp it made him take half a step toward you.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “For all of it. I shouldn’t have—”

You cut him off with the quietest, most broken whisper “You told me I should’ve stayed in that cage.”

Sanemi froze.

The world stopped, as your words hit him like a blade to the gut, like something ripping open inside him.

“And…”

Your throat closed.

“You called me a monster.”

His face crumpled—just a flicker, just for a breath—before he looked away like the shame burned.

“I didn’t mean that,” Sanemi said, voice low, tight, almost shaking. “That was… fuck, I was angry, and scared, and I said the worst thing I could have. But I didn’t— I don’t—” He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard. “I’m sorry _______. I’m so damn sorry.”

But you shook your head, tears welling despite your attempts to blink them back.

“You hurt me,” you whispered. “And I know I hurt you too, but… you really hurt me.”

Sanemi didn’t try to deny it.

Didn’t try to defend himself.

Didn’t yell.

He just stood there, breathing shallow, like your words cut deeper than any wound he’d taken in battle.

“I know,” he said finally. “I know I did.”

His voice cracked.

“And that’s why I’m here.”

The courtyard was silent.

Too silent.

You stared at him—breathing hard from the confrontation, chest tight, anger and heartbreak boiling under your skin. Sanemi’s apology hung in the cold air between you, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. Not with everything stuck inside your chest like thorns.

“…Fight me,” you said suddenly.

Sanemi blinked.

“What?”

“Fight me.” Your jaw clenched. “I need to get this out. All of it.”

He stared, stunned, muscles tensing.

You stepped back, lifting your fists.

“Unless you’re scared.”

That did it.

His eye twitched while his jaw flexed. He took a step forward, letting out a humorless scoff.

“Fine,” he muttered. “If that’s what you want.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

Your emotions did the talking as you lunged first.

Sanemi blocked your punch easily, sliding back a single foot in the dirt. You swung again—faster—your knuckles grazing his cheek as he dodged.

He didn’t counter as he let you hit. Let you swing. Let out everything you’d been holding inside.

But that only pissed you off more.

“STOP HOLDING BACK!” you shouted, swinging harder.

Sanemi’s expression flickered—anger and hurt overlapping.

“You want me to fight you for real?” he snapped, finally stepping forward. “Fine.”

He moved… fast.

His fist slammed into your guard, the force sending you skidding back across the dirt. Your arms shook. You barely held your stance.

He wasn’t even using a fraction of his strength.

“Come on,” he growled. “You wanted this.”

You rushed him again, landing a kick to his ribs—he took it and didn’t move—and you felt frustration claw up your throat.

You hated that he was stronger. You hated that he wasn’t trying. You hated that part of you wanted his acknowledgment.

Your vision blurred with anger.

“FIGHT ME, SANEMI!”

He finally swung back.

Your bodies collided—fist to fist, forearm to forearm—pain sparking through your bones. You ground your teeth and pushed harder.

But he pushed too.

Anger. Hurt. Bitterness.

Everything you both refused to say was coming out through fists and instinct.

You swung again and he ducked. He grabbed your wrist, twisted, and you hit the ground hard.

“You’re angry,” he panted. “GOOD. Use it.”

You snarled and kicked upward, forcing him back. You stood and lunged again—harder, faster, desperate. Your chest burned while your blood hummed, your vision pulsing red.

And then, Sanemi pinned you against a tree using sheer strength alone, panting, face inches from yours.

“You’re not beating me like this,” he hissed. “You’re holding back too.”

“No I’m not,” you seethed.

He tightened his grip. “You know damn well you are.”

Your gaze snapped up to his, furious, trembling, cornered by the truth.

“Then stop lying to yourself,” he growled and paused for a second, before adding, “…stop lying to me.”

That was the breaking point. Your claws burst out first, then your pupils thinned, and then your breath deepened.

Your demon form erupted through your skin like fire.

Sanemi’s eyes widened for a split second, not in fear this time, but because he finally saw you stop hiding.

You shoved him off with inhuman strength.

He stumbled—actually stumbled—and the look in his eyes was electric.

“Good,” he rasped, rolling his shoulders. “NOW we fight.”

And you did.

You collided so hard the ground cracked beneath your feet.

Your claws nearly grazed his cheek as he dodged.

He countered with a heavy punch—you blocked and sent him flying back with a kick he didn’t expect.

He slid, sandals digging into the dirt. A grin—wild, adrenaline-fueled—tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“About damn time,” he muttered.

You didn’t even hesitate as you rushed him with no restraint.

Your fist slammed into his guard.

His elbow caught your ribs.

You spun, claws slicing the air.

He ducked, sweeping your legs.

You caught yourself with your hands and flipped over him.

This wasn’t a pretty spar. It was raw. Emotional. Messy.

A confession in the form of violence.

He grabbed your wrist, and you twisted out. He drove you back, and you forced him to his knees. He shoved you off, and you pinned him. He threw you over his shoulder, you landed and lunged again.

Both of you panting, both of you trembling, both of you bleeding from small cuts you inflicted on each other.

You weren’t trying to kill.

You were trying to feel.

Trying to breathe.

Trying to understand why it hurt so damn much.

And then, Sanemi’s fist caught your shoulder at the same moment your clawed hand grazed his jaw.

You both froze.

You were chest-to-chest. Your breath mixing as your foreheads were nearly touching. Your claws were against his skin while his knuckles were against your collarbone.

You were both shaking. Both unable to move. Both unable to speak.

The fight stopped on its own.

Because there was nothing left to swing.

Nothing left to hit.

Just… everything. Everything you felt. Everything he felt. Everything you both kept drowning in instead of admitting.

Your foreheads were nearly touching.

Not from tenderness, but from the sheer force of the fight, the adrenaline still vibrating through your bones, the kind of closeness that happens only when two people tear into each other because words hurt too much to use.

Your breathing was tangled with his, heavy and uneven.

His hand slowly wrapped around your wrist.

Your claws were still resting at the base of his jaw, inches from cutting him.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you could.

Rain-damp air clung to your skin, warm from exertion. His breath fanned across your lips—ragged, trembling, desperate in a way he didn’t even try to hide now. His eyes burned into yours, not with hate, not with anger… but with something raw and unguarded, something he’d fought harder than any demon.

“Why do you do this to me?” he whispered, the gravel in his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, trembling like he wasn’t used to letting it crack.

Your pulse stuttered.

“Why do you get under my skin like this? Why can’t I—”

He cut himself off, jaw flexing, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes with a helplessness that almost didn’t look real on him.

Your heart slammed so hard against your ribs you swore he could feel it.

His grip on your wrist softened, sliding down until his fingers brushed the inside of your palm. Slowly—hesitantly—he raised his other hand and cupped the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair with a gentleness so at odds with the fight you’d just had that it made your chest ache.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he breathed, voice so low it scraped. “I can’t—”

But he could.

He would.

He was already leaning in.

There was no mistaking it—not the way his breath shuddered, not the way he swallowed like he was terrified, not the way every line in his body strained toward yours as if pulled by something he had no control over.

You felt yourself leaning, too.

Just barely.

Just enough that your noses brushed.

Your lips hovered so close, the warmth of him ghosted over your mouth. So close you could feel the tremble in his breath… so close that one more inch, one gentle tilt of your head, and you’d fall into him completely.

Sanemi’s eyes half-lidded.

The hand in your hair tightened.

His forehead pressed to yours.

He exhaled your name like a prayer he never believed he’d say.

And then, you pulled back.

Not abruptly.

Not harshly.

But with a slow, trembling inhale as you stepped away, your hand sliding out of his grasp.

His eyes snapped open fully, confusion crashing into hurt so naked it twisted through you.

You steadied your voice, though it shook.

You had to.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “Not right now.”

Sanemi didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

The courtyard suddenly felt unbearably quiet, the air thick with everything left unsaid. His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking sharply beneath his skin as he looked away, a breath escaping him like someone had driven a blade between his ribs.

“Right,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Space.”

He nodded once, stiffly—as if the motion hurt.

Then he stepped back.

For someone usually so brash, so loud, so reckless with his emotions, he was painfully silent now. His eyes flicked over your face, searching—maybe for anger, maybe for hatred, maybe for forgiveness—but you kept your gaze lowered because looking at him only made the ache worse.

He swallowed hard.

Just once.

“If that’s what you want,” he said quietly, almost gently, “I won’t… I won’t bother you.”

You flinched at the choice of words.

He saw it.

His jaw tightened again, but he said nothing else as he turned.

A part of you thought he would pause, just long enough that for a moment, you thought he would look back.

He didn’t.

He kept walking, shoulders stiff, never once glancing behind him as the space between you widened, and the echo of what almost happened hung heavier than any wound you’d ever taken.

And you stood there in the fading light, trembling, breath unsteady, heart aching with the realization that hurting him hurt you worse.

But you needed space.

You needed breath.

You needed time.

Even if it meant both of you walked away bleeding from something you never even touched

Sanemi didn’t remember the walk back to his estate.

One moment he was staring at you—your trembling breath, your eyes full of hurt that he put there—and the next he was storming through the Wind Estate gates, chest heaving, jaw locked so tight it ached.

The air felt too thick.

His skin felt too tight.

His heart..

He didn’t want to think about his heart.

He shoved the doors open and stepped into the courtyard, ready to pace, ready to punch something, ready to tear the entire damn estate down if it meant shutting off his thoughts for even a second—but a familiar presence was already waiting.

Obanai leaned against one of the wooden pillars, arms loosely crossed, mismatched eyes watching Sanemi with that usual unreadable calm.

They stood there like that for a beat—Sanemi breathing like he’d just come out of a battle, and Obanai studying him like a puzzle he was too tired to solve.

“…Shinazugawa,” Obanai finally said, voice low. “You look like hell.”

Sanemi bristled immediately.

“I’m not in the mood, Iguro.”

“You never are.” Obanai pushed off the pillar, taking a few slow steps toward him. “Which is exactly why I’m asking what happened.”

“Drop it,” Sanemi growled.

“No.”

Sanemi whipped around, glaring. “I said drop it—”

“And I said no,” Obanai repeated, tone annoyingly even. “You came back looking like someone ripped your heart out and stomped on it. I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”

Sanemi’s breath hitched—almost imperceptibly—but Obanai caught it.

“Did you talk to ________?” Obanai pressed.

Sanemi’s jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt.

Obanai waited.

Finally, Sanemi snapped.

“She told me she needed space,” he spit, pacing away and running a hand through his hair. “After I tried.. she just—she needed space.”

Obanai blinked once. “You… tried?”

Sanemi glared at him like he wished Obanai had never learned how to speak.

“I apologized,” he muttered, voice low and raw. “Or I tried to. And then we sparred. And she—she got angry, and I couldn’t—” His throat tightened, frustration bleeding into his tone. “And it got… close.”

Obanai lifted an eyebrow. “Close in which direction?”

Sanemi glared daggers.

Obanai’s silence said I knew it.

Sanemi scrubbed his hands over his face. “I messed it up. Again. She pulled away from me like I was—” He broke off. “…like I burned her.”

Obanai exhaled sharply through his nose.

“You both reacted poorly,” he admitted. “Her for lying. You for… everything else.”

Sanemi’s head shot up, eyes sharp.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. “You think I haven’t been tearing myself apart over that night since it happened? I hated her for lying, I hated myself for caring, and I hate even more that I still—”

He bit his tongue until he tasted iron.

Obanai stared at him for a long moment, then spoke quietly.

“She didn’t lie because she wanted to hurt you. She lied because she was terrified.” His eyes softened, just a fraction. “And we—yes, we—made it worse with how we reacted.”

Sanemi scoffed. “You didn’t call her a monster.”

“No,” Obanai said evenly. “But I still made her feel unsafe.”

Sanemi’s posture faltered, just slightly.

Obanai continued, “Listen to me carefully, Shinazugawa. Whatever she is, whatever her blood holds… she jumped in front of Upper Rank Three for you. She could have died. She should have died. But she didn’t hesitate.”

Sanemi stiffened.

He remembered every detail.

The scream he let out, the blur of your body throwing itself between him and Akaza, the sickening impact of the kick splitting through your chest, and the look on your face when you fell back into him.

“I know,” he muttered. “I know.”

“And you think someone like that deserves to be treated so harshly? The way you treated her?”

Sanemi’s breath stopped.

Obanai’s words hit harder than any punch.

“She lied to protect herself. You lashed out to protect yourself. Both were wrong. But only one of you was trying to fix it.”

Sanemi didn’t respond.

Obanai stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“She cares for you, Shinazugawa. Anyone with eyes can see it. And you care too… you’ve made that obvious to everyone except yourself.”

Sanemi swallowed hard. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” Obanai countered. “You’re just afraid.”

Sanemi’s fists curled.

Obanai waited a beat, then asked quietly,

“…Do you really want her to give her heart to someone else? To that Kakushi boy who isn’t scared of being honest with her?”

Sanemi froze—shoulders tensing, jaw locking, breath halting.

Obanai saw it and he hummed knowingly.

“Thought so.” He turned toward the exit. “I’m going back to my estate. Don’t be an idiot, Shinazugawa.”

He paused at the doorway.

“She took a fatal blow for you,” Obanai added softly. “The least you can do is not push her into someone else’s arms.”

Then he left.

Sanemi stood alone in the silence, fists trembling at his sides, the weight of every word crushing him into the ground.

He hated how much it hurt.

Hated how much he cared.

Hated the thought of losing you more than anything he’d ever feared.

And for the first time, he had no idea what to do next.

-

The moment you stepped back into your room, the weight of everything hit you at once. All the adrenaline from the sparring. All the anger you felt toward Sanemi. All the ache you felt when he pleaded to talk… and how a part of you wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms again.

It all crashed through your chest like a wave you’d been holding back for far too long.

You shut the sliding door behind you and leaned your forehead against the wood, breath trembling.

Your palms were still warm from where they’d touched him.

Your lips still tingled from how close they’d come to brushing his.

Your heart still raced with the memory of his voice—raw, apologetic, desperate.

Gods, you’d wanted to kiss him.

You’d wanted it so badly your knees had almost buckled.

But you reminded yourself… you weren’t going to fold that easily.

Not after what he said to you, and especially not after he looked at you like he wished you didn’t exist.

You refused to let one heartfelt apology erase all the hurt still sitting in your chest.

With a shaking exhale, you pushed yourself off the door and moved toward the small bath behind the screen. You lit a candle, steam curling around the edges of the tub as you sank into the warm water.

For the first time in weeks, your body wasn’t fighting or training or bleeding—just floating.

Your eyes closed, your hair spreading around you like ink, and this is when you began to replay everything.

Sanemi’s expression when he begged you to talk. The way he flinched when you mentioned what he said. The way his voice broke—like he regretted every syllable he ever shouted at you.

Another part of you whispered:

You still want him. Forgive him.

You submerged your face underwater until your lungs burned, hoping it would drown the thought.

When you rose again, gasping softly, you clenched your jaw.

“Not yet,” you whispered to yourself. “I’m not giving in… not yet.”

You stepped out, dried off, and slipped into soft pajamas—a simple lavender yukata with loose sleeves that fell gently around your wrists. Your hair was towel-dried, still damp, framing your face softer than you expected.

The quiet was calming.

For a moment, you thought maybe you could finally sleep. But then, a gentle knock came at your door.

You blinked.

“…Yes?”

The door slid open, and there she stood—Lady Tamayo—elegant as always, lantern in hand, Yushiro a respectful distance behind her.

She smiled warmly.

“Forgive the late hour. I didn’t want to interrupt your rest,” she said, stepping inside. “But I need to speak with you.”

You straightened, nerves flickering. “Is everything okay?”

Tamayo approached, eyes kind yet focused.

“I would like to take you somewhere nearby—nothing far,” she assured gently. “I want to observe how you react to different types of demon blood. It will help me determine the full nature of your condition.”

Your blood ran cold for a moment. Training was one thing. But confronting demon blood head-on?

Your stomach twisted.

Tamayo must’ve noticed the way your fingers curled since she reached out, placing a soft hand over yours.

“You will not be alone,” she said. “This is simply an assessment. And for safety—should Muzan attempt anything—we will not be going without protection.”

She stepped aside slightly, revealing two silhouettes waiting just beyond the hall lighting.

Mitsuri and Shinobu.

Mitsuri smiled sweetly and gave you a tiny wave.

Shinobu simply nodded, eyes calm but sharp.

Tamayo continued, “Both Hashira offered to accompany us, and I am grateful for it. With them by our side, even an Upper Rank would hesitate.”

You swallowed, glancing at the two women—your friends, your teammates, and two of the strongest pillars in the Corps.

Your fear eased just a bit.

“…Okay,” you breathed. “I’ll go.”

Tamayo’s expression softened, almost motherly.

“Good. We leave in an hour. Dress comfortably.”

As she turned to exit, Mitsuri beamed and whispered loudly.

“We’re gonna have a girl’s night with SCIENCE!”

Shinobu sighed. “Please don’t call it that.”

Yushiro muttered under his breath, “Idiots…”

You laughed for the first time that evening.

And as they walked away, you couldn’t shake the sharp ache still lingering in your chest. Sanemi’s face flashing through your mind like a ghost you couldn’t outrun.

But tonight wasn’t about him.

Tonight was about control. Answers. Understanding yourself.

-

The night air was cold enough to sting your lungs.

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself as the group walked through the quiet outskirts of the Corps grounds—far enough for demons to lurk, close enough for protection.

Your standard Corps uniform felt heavier tonight.

Not because of the fabric, but because of what you were about to do.

You walked beside Lady Tamayo. Yushiro followed closely behind her, alert as always, while Mitsuri and Shinobu kept a respectful but watchful distance.

Tamayo lifted her lantern, its warm glow brushing across the bark of the trees.

“Let’s try to keep our presence subtle,” she murmured. “If we’re too imposing, nothing will approach.”

Mitsuri blinked, realization dawning. “Oh! You mean we’re too scary?”

Shinobu gave Tamayo a knowing smile. “We’ll step back a bit, then.”

Tamayo nodded. “Actually, all of us should.”

Your eyes widened as they all retreated several paces, far enough that their overwhelming aura wouldn’t scare anything off, yet close enough to intervene. The forest changed the moment their presence faded—quieter, darker, as though the night itself leaned in.

Your heart thudded softly.

Tamayo offered a comforting smile from her distance.

“There’s no reason to fear. This is only a controlled trial.”

You nodded, focusing on the shadows. The moon was a thin blade overhead, giving just enough light to paint silhouettes of branches stretching across the path. The silence deepened, pressing into your ears.

Nearly half an hour passed before the air shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.

Your senses sharpened instantly. Something was coming.

You had no time to react before something lunged from the darkness.

Your body moved on instinct.

You transformed in a flash—eyes burning red, claws extending—and kicked upward, your heel connecting with the demon’s jaw and sending it crashing into a nearby tree.

It hit the trunk with a sickening crack.

Groaning, the creature lifted its head, glaring at you with bloodshot eyes.

“Y-you bitch,” it slurred through a shattered jaw, blood pooling under its chin. Then.. snap. Its jaw realigned with unnatural ease, reforming as it spat blood.

“Huh… so you’re not just a human.”

Your crimson gaze stayed locked on him, Tamayo’s instructions echoing in the back of your mind.

The demon narrowed its eyes and sniffed the air.

“You’re not alone, are you? I can smell them… all of them. And—”

He sniffed again.

“Another demon too, perhaps?”

“No.” Your voice cut through the forest, steady and sharp. “Just you and me. Let’s go.”

The demon’s lips curled into a sick grin.

“Well, isn’t this exciting?” he purred, tilting his head as he took you in from head to toe. “I’ve eaten humans, but you’re also a demon. Huh, a half-breed like you?”

His tongue dragged slowly across his teeth.

“I’ve never had a flavor like that.”

Your expression didn’t budge.

He chuckled—low, eager.

“Let’s see what you taste like.”

He lunged.

So did you.

You collided in the center of the clearing, claws clashing, the force rattling the branches overhead. The demon lashed out at your ribs—quick, sharp—and you twisted, but not fast enough. His nails sliced across your side, burning hot as blood began to drip through the fabric.

You hissed, but planted your foot and rammed your elbow into his jaw, forcing his head sideways with a crack. He stumbled only for a heartbeat before sweeping his claws across your arm—deep enough to split skin.

The sting ripped through you.

Warm blood trailed down to your wrist.

He smirked.

“Bleeds nicely.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

You shot forward again, claws slashing in a wide arc. He blocked, but you spun under his arm and kicked his leg out, sending him crashing onto his back.

He rolled away, fast, and came up swinging—landing a brutal strike that raked across your cheek. Hot blood dripped down your jawline.

It stung, but the pain only sharpened your focus.

This is what Tamayo wanted.

A real test.

The demon barreled toward you, teeth bared. You let him get close, until his claws nearly grazed your throat. That’s when you grabbed him—one hand gripping his wrist, the other buried into the flesh of his shoulder, sinking your nails in deep.

His eyes widened.

“Wha—”

You pulled.

His blood surged into you like a rushing current, hot and thick, burning through your veins with a violent pulse. His scream tore through the forest as his body began to shrivel beneath your grip.

The demon clawed at your face, slicing a new line across your cheekbone, then another across your jaw. The pain was shar, but you didn’t let go.

He thrashed, kicked, twisted—nothing worked.

Your fingers dug deeper.

More blood flooded into you.

“STOP—” he choked, voice warbling.

You didn’t.

In seconds, his skin tightened over bone. His arms trembled weakly. His eyes sank.

Then his body collapsed, his skin completely sunken to the bone, and his eyes hollow now, drained of all life.

Silence fell.

Your breath still hadn’t fully steadied when you finally looked down at yourself.

Blood soaked your sleeves… but the wounds beneath them were already stitching themselves together. The long gash on your arm shrank slowly, threads of raw muscle crawling back into place. The scratches on your cheek tingled, closing from the center outward until they looked like faint pink lines.

You panted softly, watching the transformation happen in real time.

Footsteps broke through the trees—steady, urgent, familiar.

Tamayo emerged first, lantern raised. Yushiro was beside her, eyes wide with alarm. Mitsuri and Shinobu followed a step behind, blades in hand, their expressions snapping instantly from readiness to surprise.

Tamayo approached slowly, carefully observing the last inches of your healing gash.

“Hm… interesting. The regeneration is rapid but…” Her eyes softened with a scientist’s apology. “There’s no further change. No tattoo patterning… no physical augmentation.”

Shinobu sheathed her blade. “So this demon didn’t trigger a threshold.”

Tamayo nodded, placing a thoughtful hand near her own chin.

“It appears only higher-ranking demons cause a significant shift in your physiology. This one provided basic regeneration, nothing more.”

Yushiro crossed his arms and huffed. “Which means this entire excursion may have been… unnecessary.”

“Yushiro.” Tamayo’s tone was gentle but corrective.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and swiped the dried blood from your jaw with the back of your hand.

“It’s really fine,” you said quietly. “I… needed the practice anyway.”

Tamayo’s expression softened into something almost maternal.

“Precisely. Which is why I would like to try a few additional tests.. if you are comfortable. There are several more demons in the vicinity.”

Your heartbeat kicked up, not with fear this time, but with a strange, new assurance blooming in your chest. You’d fought. You’d endured. You hadn’t lost yourself.

And you wanted—needed—to know more.

You straightened, rolling your shoulders back despite the lingering burn beneath your skin.

“I can handle more,” you said, voice steady. “Let’s keep going. I want to see how far I can push this.”

Tamayo nodded, pleased.

“Then tonight, we’ll continue. We must understand precisely what happens when you kill demons… how their blood affects you… and how much control you can maintain.”

A flutter of nerves sparked through your stomach, but it didn’t deter you. If anything, it sharpened your focus.

You were scared—of yourself, of your limits, of what you might become.

But you were also done running from it.

You didn’t know what you would discover tonight, or how you would change, but for the first time… you couldn’t wait to find out.

[cranberrystorm]

Demon Slayer Fic - Chapter 10: Loud Days, Quiet Nights

Fic Title: Hard To Love

Read on Ao3

Summary: After spending time with the Kamado siblings, Mio opens up about desires she may have for her future now that she is away from the temple. Later, Giyu helps Mio move out of the Ubuyashiki estate when a surprise guest shows up. Feeling conflicted, Mio removes herself.

Word Count: 3,509

Tags: Insecurity, talk of the future, introspection, adult language

Full Chapter Below

                  The following afternoon, Mio makes sure to bring her sewing kit with when she goes to the water Hashira’s estate.

                  Yesterday was… nice. She hadn’t realized that Giyu noticed she’d been acting strange, and her guilt has two heads. One for eliciting enough nerves from Giyu that he invited a teenage boy to his house to help him cope with the concern, and one, and far more menacing, for the steep peak of embarrassment that he offered her to live with him.

                  She didn’t tell the Hashira’s her plight for this exact reason; her mistakes, her issues with keeping money, shouldn’t be dealt with from people with enough of their own issues to fill a canyon but would still kindly offer her a room. Admittedly, accepting Giyu’s offer wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be. He doesn’t offer things he doesn’t want, never acts out of spontaneous emotion like she does, and he was genuine.

                  Mio doesn’t have to worry about Giyu’s mind flipflopping. Her nerves are all but gone whenever she’s in the room with him. He’s refreshing, like the cool breeze of this winter morning.

                  She smiles when she enters the estate, Tanjiro and his sister being loud enough that Giyu’s tomb-like halls feels like a home.

                  “Good morning,” she greets from the foyer, removing her shoes and ensuring they hear her coming in today. Despite her amusement at catching them off guard, she doesn’t want to give Giyu a coronary.

                  “Miss Aki!” Tanjiro pokes his head out of the dining room. “Good morning! Come in!”

                  “I’m coming,” She grins, pulling up her kimono to climb the steps inside and take the familiar path through the house. All doors are shut, curtains tightly closed, nary a beam of sunlight pours over the floors of the estate. The reason reveals itself immediately when Nezuko coos brightly when Mio enters. She holds up her sewing kit in response.

                  “Tanjiro, Nezuko, would you be opposed to me mending your clothes? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

                  Tanjiro blinks once, “Oh, that’s alright, we can do it later.” He waves a hand, gesturing for Mio to sit. “Really, we don’t want to be any trouble.”

                  “You wouldn’t,” She bows her head, “It would be an honor of mine to help you. There’s so much that you slayers do for us, I insist you let me take care of you.” She doesn’t imagine the audible swallow she hears from the boy, “I can take Nezuko upstairs first and get her scrubbed up like new, and then when you bathe, I can sew yours.”

                  Giyu watches the exchange, his eyes bright, his face the most cheerful she’s seen it – which means he’s merely not frowning or looking like he’s carved from stone from how flat his expressions are. He nods his encouragement to Tanjiro, and the young slayer accepts her offer graciously.

                  She holds out her free hand to Nezuko. “Come along, angel. Bath time.”

                  Nezuko is… smaller than yesterday, not much larger than the little children she tended to during summer kagura festivals at the temple, but this girl is far more agreeable as she leaps up from the floor and follows Mio without being told twice.

                  If all people were as easy to tend to as Nezuko Kamado is, Mio’s life would barely feel like work at all. Demon or no, Mio finds herself laughing often as clothes are mended and baths are taken. Nezuko even sits still and cheery while Mio brushes her hair and braids it back into two plaits.

                  “There,” She repeats the same words she heard from the old woman when she was injured weeks and weeks ago, “Beautiful hair for a beautiful girl.”

                  Nezuko nuzzles her cheek into Mio’s palm, and she momentarily considers stealing the girl for herself. She’s just too cute!

                  They return to the dining room, elated conversation about training continuing from Tanjiro as Nezuko rushes in and pushes herself under the table.

                  “Your turn,” Mio says to the boy from the doorway, arms crossing over her chest, “And don’t give me any guff about bathing. The water’s still warm, and Mister Giyu has an impressive assortment of soap. Leave your clothes in the hall for me, and I’ll tend to them before you’ve finished.”

                  Tanjiro smiles as he listens, bowing his head politely when she’s done. “Yes, ma’am. Right away. Thank you.”

                  He scurries up the stairs with haste, and she nods approvingly. Jerking her thumb in his direction, she looks to Giyu’s amused form still seated at the table. “Well, isn’t he well behaved!”

                  He nods as he pushes himself to stand, lips twitching as he closes their distance. “I have impressive soap?”

                  Mio looks up at him, nodding fervently, “Impressive and… well, unique! It’s no wonder you always smell so good.”

                  Giyu places a hand on his neck, eyes dropping to the floor. “Do you want to know a secret?”

                  She nearly vibrates with anticipation. “Giyu, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

                  “I buy them so the women in the village leave me alone.” His cheeks pinken, “They always swarm around me, talking loudly, that I just buy what they’re selling and hope they’ll let me go.”

                  Mio blinks once before her laughter bubbles out, she uses the doorframe for support as breath barely makes its way into her chest. “That’s! Hilarious.” She swats at him, “You’re a Hashira!”

                  He shrugs, “A Hashira that’s afraid of old women, I guess.”

                  She continues laughing as he follows her upstairs, humming her mirth to herself as she plucks Tanjiro’s haori and uniform up and begins fixing the seams. She stops herself once, pressing her palms into her eyes when he kneels next to her, the image of him running from a mob of money hungry granny’s making her laugh so hard her stomach hurts.

                  “They’re just small versions of regular women!” Mio whisper yells, Nezuko huffing her support from where she slides up and down the stairs.

                  “They’re aggressive,” He explains, brows lifting.

                  “They know they have a carp on the line,” She points her needle towards him, “They probably love when you come to the market! Whispering amongst each other that if they talk enough, you’ll buy whatever they want you to.”

                  He shrugs again, “You’ll have to buffer next time I go, then.”

                  Mio’s smile doesn’t fade as she works, taking a few moments to finally thread her needle and focus on her task. “Yes… I suppose I will.”

                  Giyu is quiet while she works, his company comforting as she hums a familiar tune from childhood. Nezuko has inched her body closer over time, her little hand resting on Mio’s arm eventually.

                  “What is it, sweet girl?” Mio asks, eyes flicking up to the little face staring intently at her. Nezuko doesn’t apply more pressure, nor does she make any noise, and Mio rationalizes that she just wants the contact.

                  She understands that deeply. The warmth of someone’s skin against her own, simple affection… there’s nothing like it. She finishes the tears in Tanjiro’s pant knees, the shredded seams on his haori, and then the hole in the armpit of his shirt before she folds the clothes neatly and hands them to Giyu.

                  “Can you give those to him?”

Giyu’s face twists with something that has Mio filling the words in. Please don’t make me.

She laughs while holding her arms open for Nezuko to climb into her lap. She hugs the girl close to her chest, Nezuko’s contented sigh giving enough encouragement that Mio begins to rock, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I don’t want to go in there! You’re a man, that’s your job!”

“Fine.” Giyu’s sigh is longer than a whining wind, but he obliges.

                  Mio places her cheek on Nezuko’s still damp hair. She doesn’t know what starts it, never feeling particularly maternal before, but she sings the only lullaby she remembers.

Hush-a-bye, Hush-a-bye! My good baby, Sleep! Where did my boy's babysitter go? Beyond that mountain, back to her home. As a souvenir from her home, what did you get? A toy drum and a shō flute.

Mio rocks further, Nezuko’s soft sigh garnering her attention and finding the girl fast asleep. She smiles to herself as the eerie feeling of being watched has her looking up.

From the doorway, Tanjiro’s smile is kind, pensive, but his eyes are filled with a sadness that makes Mio’s throat close.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, “I didn’t mean to – “

Tanjiro shakes his head, “Thank you, Miss Aki. Your kindness means more than you know.”

He takes the girl, hefting her down the steps to place her into her box before he comes to sit with Mio in the same hall. Giyu leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watches as Tanjiro – for once – struggles with words.

“I think certain women remind her of our mom…” Tanjiro looks up, “You don’t really look like her, but when you hold Nezuko like that, fix our clothes…”

Mio places a chaste hand on the slayer’s shoulder, “No one will ever replace her – never. But, if you ever want some… big sister nurturing, I will make myself available.” She attempts to pull away, but the boy crushes her into a hug so tight that breathing is impossible.

Giyu’s brows knit, but she waves him off before he intervenes, patting Tanjiro’s arm as he croons his thanks and appreciation for her kindness.

When he finally frees her, he looks a bit embarrassed. “Sorry… I don’t know what that was about.”

“It’s alright,” She tilts her head, “Sometimes someone feels familiar, even if you just met.” She smiles, “Call me Mio, Tanjiro, I feel that familiarity, too.”

Tanjiro leaves shortly afterwards, his box slung over his shoulder, an enthusiastic wave given as he promises he’ll visit again sometime soon. Mio watches until his form disappears, silently hoping that he honors that promise.

“Thank you.” Giyu says softly, his hands placed into his pockets as he leans opposite to her on the porch. He doesn’t look at her, but she can see the subtle joy in his features. “He means… a lot to me.”

“Of course,” She chews her cheek, “He’s a good boy.”

“He is.”

She hums, sitting down on the step to stretch her back. “I never thought much about children… but kids like him and Nezuko make it feel like it wouldn’t be terrible to have some of my own.”

He joins her, quiet and comforting as always, and nods his agreement.

Because she can, because she knows Giyu will listen no matter what she says, and perhaps she feels a bit emotional from the past two days, she lets her guard drop. “Wanting to have a family… it feels selfish to me sometimes.” He turns to look at her, but she keeps her eyes forward. “I lost my parents before I even knew who they were. Being a part of this world,” She gestures vaguely to encompass the corps, “We’re surrounded by people who’ve lost those closest to them. I don’t know if I could put a child through that, regardless of how well intentioned I am, or how adamant I am about living for them.”           

She blows out a tight breath, “At the temple, we were never encouraged to really… have families. Our lives, our devotion, it’s given to the gods, regardless of how precious procreation is. To me… I want those forbidden things despite my fears; to be loved, to have children, to have those loud days that leak into quiet nights…” She trails off, unsure why she’s really continuing.

“I don’t feel like I deserve it,” She admits quietly, letting this last bit of vulnerability out into the afternoon chill, her breath clouding in front of her. “But sometimes I feel like I have so much love to give, I just don’t know how to give it.”

Giyu listens intently, his stare not leaving her face as she talks. He wants to know how she thinks, what she feels, and it brings a smile to Mio’s face when she catches him staring.

“Thank you for listening. Sorry, that was so… heavy.” She holds her hands out in front of her, studying her knuckles.

“I understand.” He says, nodding once.

She dares to look at him now, that calculating blue gaze of his holding nothing but waves of quiet compassion and a hint of his own sadness.

“It’s not selfish to want to be loved,” He continues, his voice low and even, “Or to give it.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Her nose wrinkles, “When our world is full of death and loss?”

He lifts a shoulder, inhaling deeply as he considers her question. “Or is it brave to do it in spite of the reasons not to?”

It’s a simple question, but it has her head tilting. “I really like this version of you.”

“What?” He asks, his eyes widening slightly.

She grins, “You’re comfortable. It’s very nice to see.”

“Stop.” His cheeks betray his embarrassment, a pretty pink flushing to his face.

“I’m not teasing,” She reaches between them, placing her hand on his knee, “Truly, it’s a privilege to be close to you like this.”

Giyu watches her, eyes flicking down to her hand and up to her face. His jaw works as he studies her eyes, “I feel the same.”

Neither of them mentions the cold as they sit for too long on the porch, their skin pink and pebbled, before the promise of hot tea and a quiet night beckons them indoors.

~

                  “This is all you have?” Giyu asks two days later, picking the singular bag up from the veranda outside Mio’s former room at the Ubuyashiki’s mansion.

                  “I told you I didn’t need your help.” She grins, sliding the door shut as she reaches for the tote, “I don’t have many things.”

                  “I see.” He takes a step away, frowning at the state of the hand-me-down bag as he pokes at the deep crack in the leather. He gives her a flat look, his meaning clear. Really? This is what you carry your belongings in?

                  She huffs, her ire spiking, “Give it to me if you hate it so much, then.”

                  He holds it away from her, his free arm coming up defensively between them to push her away from him. She attempts, gods does she try, to overpower him, but he’s solid. Strong in a way that she forgets, but he’s a Hashira, it shouldn’t have shocked her.

                  She’s heaving breaths of exertion as he presses his lips together, not even bothered from the minutes spent keeping her away from her things.

                  Their fun is ruined the moment the bag tugs behind Giyu, the Hashira moving quickly with sure movements to spin out of the grip of the person hidden behind his back. Her face falls immediately seeing the scowling one staring back at her when Giyu moves to the side, her items still in his hands.

                  “What the hell is going on?” Sanemi snaps, his tone low, tight, like a bone about to crack.

                  “I’m moving out of the mansion today,” Mio explains simply, letting her own mask of indifference pull her features into neutrality. “All staff need their own residence now.”

                  “Since when?” The wind Hashira scoffs, “That sounds like bullshit.”

                  She gestures to the house, “Go ask the Master then, tell him his orders are bullshit, I’m sure that will go very well for you.”

                  Sanemi ignores her logic, feral, wild eyes cutting to Giyu’s cool visage. “What are you doing here?”

                  “Helping.” He answers, eyes flicking down to the bag.

                  “Fuck, aren’t you a joy to talk to.” Sanemi rolls his eyes, attention boring back into Mio’s body as he gives her a quick once over. “Haven’t seen you around.”

                  “That would mean you were around to see me,” She shrugs, not forgiving him for the turbulence during their mission together, nor how he was always busy and kept away during Hashira meetings afterwards.

                  She mulled it over in her mind those first two weeks after they returned… she was very emotional during their journey, highly touchy, and she’d been injured. He didn’t need to do anything that he didn’t want to, goodness, she wishes he would have just let her sleep alone that night she’d asked to hold his hand. Or let it be forgotten afterwards instead of badgering her if she remembered or not. Or, and this is after getting to the stronghold, just letting her sit with her emotions in the room he’d allotted for her. He didn’t have to hold her, they didn’t need to share a bed again.

                  She wanted to place the blame on her own shoulders, but she realized that there were two people in that situation. Two grown, functioning, and independently emotional people who could have expressed their needs at any time. She did, he didn’t, and now here they are having the most uncomfortable stare down in the world.

                  “Can we cut the shit?” He sneers, “I wanna talk to you.”

                  She waves a hand, “Then talk.”

                  His eyes cut to Giyu. “Alone.”

                  She sighs, “I don’t really have anything to say to you that requires us being alone, Shinazugawa.” His nostrils flare at her use of his formal name, but surely, he hasn’t forgotten that he’s the one who demanded she use it. She hates how smug she feels before continuing, “If you wish for a blessing or a prayer, then of course, we can schedule a time. I will be taking up residence at the water Hashira’s estate. If my host would be gracious enough to allow me guests, we can meet there, perhaps.”

                  Sanemi looks like he’s one more proper word away from shredding his shirt off and screaming. “What?”

                  “I said – “

                  “Fuck off,” He shakes his head, “You know that’s not what I meant… I mean, what are you doing going and living there?”

                  Giyu is the one to answer, “I offered for her to live with me.” His tone is firm, and she hadn’t realized he moved closer to her, as if he’s made himself her protective shadow. “She needed a place to stay, and I have more than enough room.”

                  “Oh, between you and all the ghosts?” Sanemi bites out, a disbelieving laugh leaving him as he shakes his head, “Mio, you can’t be serious.”

                  “I told you…” She says evenly, her chin dipping as Sanemi’s purple gaze latches onto hers, “That if you did what you did on the mountains, I was done. You are not privy to information about me; you forfeited that right.”

                  Sanemi’s face pulls back in a vicious grimace, “You told him?” He flings an arm in Giyu’s direction.

                  “No – “

                  “Hey, Tomioka,” Sanemi bites out, not letting her continue, “You know all she wants out of you is what you can do for her, right?”

                  “Excuse me?” Mio snaps, her focus slipping away from proving him wrong and into why he would ever think that about her.

                  “She tries to hold you, right?” Sanemi nods, Mio’s body setting on fire. “Makes you think she’s all innocence and pretty eyes, but she’s just a fucking user.”

                  Giyu takes a step in front of Mio. “That’s enough.”

                  “You’re letting her live with you, makes you feel all safe and secure, right?” Sanemi laughs mirthlessly, “Just wait! She’s just a selfish wom – “

                  She shouldn’t have done it, oh gods, what has she done. She’s shoved herself past Giyu and slapped the wind Hashira in his face.

                  His words stop, and his eyes widen as his head is barely turned. She knows he’s been hurt worse, he has the scars to prove it, but her hands shake as she fights the apology in her throat.

                  “No! I didn’t say a word to him about anything.” Mio hisses, “I’ve tried to understand you, to level with you, but you make it impossible! What did you think this was going to accomplish? You wanted to hurt me? Well, congratulations, Sanemi, you already did that in the fucking mountains!”

                  She doesn’t care that Giyu has never seen her temper, nor does she care that she’s uttered a curse which she promised her head priest to try and quell… She seethes, snatching the bag from Giyu’s hand, and mutters a flimsy apology in his direction before she stomps away from them.

                  The two men who’ve taken up so much of Mio’s time, her headspace, loom behind her like a storm in front of her broken ship.

One man runs hot, like a churning volcano, his eruption threatens to burn everything she is to ashes, scattered and lost in the wind that is his namesake.

                  She’s always preferred the cold, finding herself more comfortable in the chill, when the world seems quieter and more at peace before the blooms begin. The other man is a first snow, a comforting touch of flakes on her cheeks as he shields her from the worst of winter…

                  She’s going back to the temple. She’s had enough.

[gayvampyr]

adult friendships are so dumb like yeah i think i can find a time to hang. how’s february 17th at 4pm

[gayvampyr]

it’s time

[animeengineer]

Dang, missed it. Reschedule?

[flametrashira-deactivated202505]

Pairing: Muzan x f!reader.

Summary: A thousand years ago, you were Muzan Kibutsuji's wife; the only person he ever felt close to, and the only comfort he clung to when his life was nearing its end. When he became a demon you were among the first to fall victim to his bloodlust.

Several lifetimes later you are reborn as a demon slayer, tasked with wiping demons off the face of the earth. When you are assigned to a mission to infiltrate the Eternal Paradise cult and get closer to the upper rank two demon, Douma, you find yourself face-to-face with the demon king himself.

Content: Part 1 of 2. Approx 15.8k words. This part is SFW but part 2 is not. Canon-typical violence. Canon-divergence.

In Another Life- Part 1

Chapter 1.

Heian Era- a thousand years ago. 

One of the servants was sobbing in the kitchen again. You didn't need to ask why. It had become a daily occurrence for your household.

Another failure. Another outburst. Your family’s doctor had been experimenting with new treatments, each one only succeeding in providing your husband with a little hope to be promptly and cruelly shattered. Nothing seemed to work. In your heart you knew nothing ever would.

Making your way through your house, your senses became cloyed with the overpowering scent of incense. The burners were lit, coiling streams of perfumed smoke fogging the air, promising healing and protection from evil. In a more practical way, it covered the scent of sickness. 

"Get out!" Muzan snarled from his futon as you stepped into his room. He was dressed in a thin white kosode, his long black hair spilling down his back and shoulders like streaks of ink. His face was pallid and covered in a sheen of sweat. "I don't want pity."

"Well, good, because I'm not here to give it to you," you said, stepping between the shattered pieces of a vase littered across the floor. You had loved that vase. It was a wedding gift. 

"Then why are you here?"

"Do I need an excuse to see my husband?"

He said nothing, but averted his eyes as you crouched at the end of his futon.

Your brow knitted when you saw the blood on the sheets. "Your hands…" 

Curling his fingers to try to cover the bleeding wounds, he made a disdainful "tch" sound and shook his head. "It's nothing."

You got up and went to fetch his wash basin and two rolls of bandages. "Well, that 'nothing' is staining the sheets–"

"To hell with the sheets." He glared at you as if daring you to challenge him. "Curse these fucking sheets. Curse this bed. Curse those good for nothing servants who tiptoe around me like their steps will shatter my body. Curse the fucking doctor and curse you too." 

It took him a moment to catch his breath; a moment where you simply looked back at him and let him get his anger out. In his position you would be angry too. Hell, you were angry. 

Finally, Muzan took a deeper breath and held out his bleeding hands, permitting you to tend to them.

Thankfully the wounds were not too severe. In fact, as you cleaned them it seemed absurd that such shallow cuts could bleed as much as they had.

Your eyes met his briefly as you bandaged his palms. "What did the vase do to anger you this time?" 

His frown relaxed, the slant of his severe eyebrows lessening from your touch. "I'm just… tired of this."

"I know."

There was nothing more you could say that Muzan hadn't heard a thousand times throughout his life. Everyone was sorry. Everyone said they would pray for him. Everyone knew someone who had been cured of similar illnesses by putting a little extra ginger in their tea, or meditating daily, or taking walks, or sleeping with an onion beside their bed, or a thousand other absurd and pointless "cures."

He had never admitted it, and likely never would, but you suspected that the reason Muzan initially tolerated your company was because you spoke to him like a person, instead of some delicate and unpredictable thing. 

Muzan looked down at his hands as you tied off the bandage. "Alright, your wifely fussing is done for the day. Leave me in peace."

"Absolutely not. You haven't performed a single husbandly duty in return." Brushing your thumbs across the backs of his wrists, you bowed your head and gently kissed the peaks of his knuckles.

A quiet chuckle finally emerged from him as he caresses the curvature of your cheek with his fingertips. "You only married me because you want my money."

"No, I was forced to marry you because my parents want your money."

His lips tilted into a faint smirk. "Is that so? Well, they probably won't have to wait long."

Those words caused a sudden ache to grow in your chest. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth. Nothing that fraudulent doctor tries is working. I'm getting worse." He lowered his gaze to the sheets, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet. "Send the servants in to change these."

"The servants are cowering in the kitchen," you said, pulling the sheets from his futon and bundling them in your arms. "I'll go and wash them–"

"No." His hand on your arm halted you, his grip weak and unsteady. "Don't go. Don't… just stay a moment." 

There was a side to Muzan that he only permitted you to see. Behind his snarls and bad temper there was a frustrated and frightened man, desperate for an end to his pain. And desperate not to die.

Before your marriage, your parents had prepared you, telling you that Muzan had no redeeming qualities besides wealth. He was rude, cruel, humorless, and he was sick. The doctors did not expect he would make it past twenty, and then you would be a wealthy young widow with enough riches to give her parents a comfortable life. You were assured you wouldn't care about his passing; Muzan was a monster, they said, and the world would be better off without him.

But as you lay on the futon beside him, wrapping your arms around his fragile frame, there was only one thing you would change about your husband.

"I wish I could take this pain from you," you whispered, stroking his hair back from his brow. "I wish I could endure it for you."

He closed his eyes and relaxed into your caress. "I wouldn't want that."

While his eyes were closed, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on the crease between his eyebrows, and then another on the bridge of his nose. There was nothing monstrous about him. 

"Do you want to try to sit in the garden with me tomorrow? The flowers are all in bloom and the maple leaves are that beautiful shade of red. The sunlight might do you some good– at least for your soul."

"I want to. I don't know if I'll have the strength–" 

"Then I'll carry you on my back," you smiled as the corner of his lip curled ever so slightly. 

"You would, wouldn't you? You damned stubborn-headed woman." He chuckled softly, raising his hand to rest his fingers on your cheek. "When I finally face the gods and demand to know what the fuck they were thinking when they cursed me with this life, you will be their rebuttal. They'll say ah, yes Muzan, we gave you a weak body and a shit heart, but we also gave you that insane woman who refused to leave you and loved you more than you deserve to be loved."

You laughed and Muzan smiled fully for the first time that day. Lying there on the futon, surrounded by shattered pottery, you held each other; your adoration like an island of calm amid a sea of pain.

The love between you was patient, quiet, and always whispered like a secret no one else was privy to. Your husband's delicate fingers wrapped around yours, bringing your hand to his lips.

His breaths were gentle and warm against your skin as he kissed your fingertips. "I'm sorry I can't love you the way you deserve to be–"

"Don't. You love me in your way and I love you in mine. One day we'll be reborn and find each other again, and we'll do all the things we can't do in this life."

He hummed softly. "I doubt I'll be reborn. I'm probably going to hell."

"Then I'll go to hell with you and we'll perform unspeakable acts of passion in the flames."

He opened his eyes just enough for you to see the look of mock disdain in them. "Such a vulgar wife."

"Oh please, the filth that drips from your vicious tongue."

A smirk titled his lips. "You once said my tongue was my only redeeming feature."

"Hah, I did?"

"You did." He closed his eyes and let his lips linger on the pulse point of your wrist. "The next good day I have, I'll remind you of just how redeeming my tongue can be. You can be the one lying here helpless while your husband devours you."

This man. This terrible, wonderful man. You could love him for eons if the world would only let you. 

▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎

The cicadas fell suddenly silent, snapping you from your sleep. It took a moment to remember where you were, that you had fallen asleep in Muzan's arms on his futon. He had been nestled against your breast, your fingers gliding through the dark waves of his hair.

But now night pressed against the windows. You had slept through the entire evening and Muzan was no longer beside you. 

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, the fear that something was watching you from the bottom of the bed.

And then you saw him.

The man stood tall, straight-backed and firm, as if illness had never curved his posture. His smile was a sickle, his once deep, dark eyes now crimson. As crimson as the blood staining his nightshirt. 

"Muzan?" 

The air pulsed with danger. Every muscle and sinew in your body tensed as your nerves fired off warnings. This was not your husband. This was something else, neither human nor beast, wearing the visage of the man you loved.

"What are you?"

Those were the last words you ever spoke. 

Chapter 2

Taisho era- Another Life.

Despite having been a member of the demon slayer corps for years, you had never previously been called before Master Ubuyashiki. So when the summons came from Mokutan, your kasugai crow, you were understandably nervous.

The journey was long and the road obscured. Even trusted members of the corps such as yourself were blindfolded along the route and passed off from one kakushi to another to keep the location of the Ubuyashiki manor secret. 

With nothing to see you were left to your thoughts, every possible scenario for your summons running through your mind. It was unlikely you were summoned to be put on trial… unless you’d been falsely accused of something. The thought of that soured your stomach. 

Surely you weren’t being promoted to the rank of Hashira. Your skills, though good enough to cut through demons, were hardly considered worthy of promotion and there were other fighters far more impressive than you. Questions plagued your mind day and night. None of the kakushi knew the answer so all that was left for you to do was wait and wonder. 

On the sixth day, the sweet scent of wisteria heralded the end of your torment. You were thrown off the back of the kakushi carrying you, pushed to your knees, and your blindfold unceremoniously removed. For a moment the world spun, but the sight before you snapped everything into sharp focus. In the dazzling glare of the midday sun, you were met with the sight of the demon slayer corp’s revered leader, Kagaya Ubuyashiki. 

Sickness was ravaging the master’s appearance, but he did not seem deterred by it. Even blinded, he seemed to perceive every movement, every subtle change in his surroundings. He exuded kindness and patience, and an aura of serenity surrounded the man, even as he spoke to you of demons and horrors beyond the comprehension of most humans. 

And as if the presence of the master wasn’t humbling enough, the insect hashira Shinobu Kocho knelt beside you, her lips pressed into a thin line as her dark purple eyes remained focused on the ground. You could all but feel the anxious flutter of her heart in the air between you.

"I suppose you wonder why you were called here?" Ubuyashiki asked. "Lady Kocho has selected you for a mission. Though it will be dangerous and you have every right to refuse. You won't be punished for it."

“Me?” You spoke carefully. "Forgive me, Master, but if I may ask, what exactly is required of me?"

The master smiled. "Lady Kocho, why don't you explain?"

The insect hashira spoke. "There is a cult in the mountains, the Eternal Paradise cult, which is dedicated to the worship of one of the twelve kizuki. He has a fondness for women and you are his type. Your mission is to infiltrate the cult, win him over and try to gather information on Muzan Kibutsuji and the location of his stronghold."

At once your chest tightened. Hacking and slashing at demon necks you could do, but this was entirely different. "One of the twelve kizuki? Which…?"

"Douma… Upper Moon Two."

"UPPER TWO?!" The serenity in the garden shattered with your outburst, but they had to have expected it. You were being asked to lay yourself at the feet of the third most powerful demon in the world and hope he showed you mercy long enough for you to win him over. "Why me? Why not a hashira?"

"Because there are only two female hashira and we are too recognizable," Kocho said with a smile. "We need someone Douma won't suspect."

"Your records are outstanding," Master Ubuyashiki added. "You are an impressive slayer and we would not be asking this of you if we did not believe you were capable. That said, should you refuse, you will not be punished. You may simply return to your duties."

You bowed your head and tried to draw breath. As a demon slayer, your life was dedicated to the eradication of evil,  your ultimate goal to destroy the progenitor of demonkind, Muzan Kibutsuji. But even a lower moon demon would give you trouble in one-on-one combat. "You want me to join the cult, become this monster's favorite, and convince him to tell me everything he knows about the demon king?"

"Simple, right?" Shinobu said with a cheerful smile. 

"And then you expect me to kill an upper rank by myself? I'm only ranked hinoto."

Kocho laughed, daintily covering her mouth with her fingertips. "Oh no, no, no, you'd be far too conspicuous carrying a nichirin blade. You will be completely unarmed when you enter the temple. All you have to do is get on the demon’s good side and listen when he talks about his master. And if something goes wrong, that's where I come in. If we're lucky, I'll rescue you. And if not…"

"There'll be nothing left to rescue." 

"Oh, don't say that. He may well turn you into a demon before I have a chance to intervene. In which case I'll ensure your soul is put to rest."

You were lightheaded as the insect hashira cheerfully described your possible death.

"Do you need time to consider?" Master Ubuyashiki asked softly.

A breeze blew across the garden, ruffling the silk of Kocho's butterfly wing haori. Since enlisting, you had accepted that you would most likely die in service to the corps. As a matter of fact, that you had passed final selection at all was a miracle in and of itself. Out of your group of thirty, only you and one other survived, and she had died in combat less than a year later. Every day was precious to a demon slayer, because the reminders that tomorrow was never guaranteed were persistent and brutal.

And if there was even a chance you could contribute to the end of that, if you could stop Muzan’s reign of terror and ensure the safety of countless lives, it was a chance you simply had to take. Even if it cost you your life.

Muzan Kibutsuji… even his name was ash on your tongue. How you despised him. That man, that monster occupied your thoughts far more often than you liked. 

“No,” you found yourself saying, as the wisteria blossoms swayed in the breeze. “I’ll do it.”

▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎

The demon king, Muzan Kibutsuji, desired only three things. 

The first was an end to his single remaining weakness: his deathly aversion to sunlight. For nearly one thousand years he’d been denied the light of the sun, and nothing he did, no matter how much research he conducted or how many lives he snuffed out in his pursuit, did anything to further his endeavor.

The second was an end to the Ubuyashiki bloodline and the lives of all his so-called demon slayers. 

And the third… Well, the third was a frivolous, impossible yearning from a life half-forgotten that he had yet to fully suppress. He tried not to pay it any mind. It didn’t matter. 

He was fully committed to the eradication of the demon slayer corps, and the pursuit of the blue spider lily as a means to conquer the sun. With an army of demons at his command, the task should have been completed, not least by his kizuki, the twelve most powerful of his creations.

The air in the Infinity Fortress throbbed with his frustration as another sunrise in the world beyond his stronghold marked another day imprisoned in darkness. 

“Oh Lord Muzan?” the second upper rank cooed, waving from a floating platform some way beneath Muzan’s workstation. “You summoned me here and, well, I’ve been waiting a while and I have a sermon—”

“Silence,” Muzan snapped, his pupils narrowing to vicious slits. “Hold your wretched tongue before I rip it out of your head.”

The fool, Douma, chuckled coyly as though he’d just received the greatest compliment of his life. “You’re so gloomy today, my lord.”

Had Muzan been in the least bit susceptible to pain he would have hurt his jaw from how tightly he clenched it. Were the demon beneath him not so powerful and impressively cruel, he would have ended his miserable existence and left nothing but a bloodstain on the platform floor.

“You and the other kizuki have failed me time and time again,” Muzan seethed, gripping the edge of his sturdy work desk so hard his pointed fingernails dug into the wood. “My requests are simple.”

“Of course, my lord… I’ve been looking. I searched the temple gardens… I asked around…”

Muzan drew a long, unnecessary breath and reminded himself he needed the upper ranks. “I’m giving you one last chance, Douma. One chance to prove your worth. Find the blue spider lily, kill Ubuyashiki and all who bear his name. I will not tolerate failure. Begone.”

The sharp strum of a biwa sounded and the pest was removed. 

A sudden, comforting silence enveloped Muzan. He enjoyed his own company, seeking to spend as much time alone as he could whenever possible. Of course, his hunt often demanded he seek connections among mortals; business partners, adopted family, spouses. But they were little more than tools to be disposed of when they were no longer of use. He didn't enjoy them.

No, he much preferred to be alone.

But in the silence, memories gathered. Memories of a life he should have forgotten. 

A bad day. A day of agony, frustration, bile and blood. Some part of Muzan could still taste the sickness that had seemed to linger on his tongue; copper and ash, the bitter tang of pointless attempts at curing his ailments. The pain that day was worse than any he had experienced before and no matter what he did he could not find respite. Snapping at the servants did nothing, it never did, yet it sometimes seemed the only thing he could do.

It wasn’t uncommon in those days for people to avoid him. And when the rest of his household cowered from him, that his foolish wife would take up their duties. 

Ordinarily, Muzan would have admonished her for fussing, but on that day he had allowed her to tend to him with only minor grumbling. She cooked his fish and rice– to perfection, as always– and sat beside him, entertaining him with gossip from the neighbors. What shallow enjoyment they had shared in the petty misfortunes of others. 

"It's snowing, you know?" she had said eventually. He remembered it clearly. Hell, he could almost still hear her voice. 

Sitting in bed was all the physical activity he could manage. He had insisted she open the windows, allowing in the steely sunlight and the cold air. And gods, she had fussed at him then, fetching him extra blankets and bundling him up like a newborn. 

He’d shrugged them all off and glared at her. "Just… let me see the snow." 

It was a simple enough request from a dying man. 

And so his wife; that insane, loving woman he could not imagine life without, stood out in the garden, scooping the snow from the grass into her hands. Her socks and the hem of her kimono were soaked.

"What are you doing, you foolish little creature?" he grumbled with the utmost affection. 

She hurried inside and knelt before him, offering him a little pile of snow. Her hands were bright red and trembling with cold, but her smile was warm and as infectious as any sickness. "Bringing you the snow so you can touch it."

What love they had shared. 

The sensation of her body in his arms didn’t stop the pain, but it sometimes dulled the edges. Her laughter, her smile, the way she looked at him, each little gesture of care, all of it. It had meant something. 

He had loved her. But what had come to pass could never be undone. That woman was not some shattered vase he could piece back together. She was dead. Gone. He had killed her and nothing could bring her back. 

No… 

Muzan’s brow furrowed as he cast aside the memories and his smile dropped into a frown. He had not loved her. The pathetic mortal boy he had once been had loved her. 

He was Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of demonkind, and such pitiful things as love and longing were far beneath him. 

Chapter 3.

Win the demon over by any means. 

The journey into the mountains was far harder than any you had previously taken. Not because of the steep inclines or the thin air, but because every step brought you closer to a fate which felt nauseatingly inevitable. 

Every flower lining the mountain paths became profound and noteworthy because it might have been the last flower you ever saw. Every hard-won breath, every step, every bead of sweat. You found yourself forced to appreciate them all. Life had never been so precious or so precarious.

No matter what it takes, even at the cost of your dignity, your life. No price is too great if it helps bring an end to this blight.

Your affirmations carried you toward your destination, echoing through your mind and frantic heart with every labored step. 

Find Muzan Kibutsuji. That’s all that matters. Find him. Find him.

Find him. 

The mountains were shrouded in shadow by the time you reached the temple. Such a quiet, unassuming collection of buildings, nestled in a peaceful valley. Silent, tranquil, meticulously kept, eerily serene like a body prepared for burial. Some part of you knew that little settlement would be your tomb. But it didn’t matter. The mission mattered. You were simply a tool. A piece moved around the ever shifting board.

Filling your lungs with one last breath of free air, you steeled your nerves and headed toward the temple’s entrance as the sun dipped completely from view.

The man guarding the door was tall, slender, and bald, with eyes full of spite despite his cheerful smile. He folded his arms across his narrow chest and repeated himself, “I said we’re full.”

“Full?” you asked, confusion creasing your brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no more room.”

The hopelessness of inevitable death was nothing compared to your frustration. It had never occurred to you that you might be turned away. The whole point of cults was to attract as many members as possible, wasn’t it? “I… what?”

The man inhaled heavily through his nose and looked over the top of your head. “Are you stupid? Go home.”

“No. I came all this way…”

“I don’t care if you came from the other side of the damned world. We’re—”

“Hey now!” a soft voice scolded from the shadows inside the building. “Be nice, Takeo, this woman clearly needs our help.”

Gods, what a presence. The air suddenly seemed to drip with sweetness, death, and danger as another man stepped out of the building; taller than the doorman and draped in finery. His skin was alabaster, his hair like spun sunlight, and his eyes opaline. His smile was so warm and welcoming, an overwhelming urge to sink into his embrace clawed at the back of your skull. 

In all your years as a slayer you'd seen demons take on all manner of twisted, grotesque, barely even humanoid forms. Protruding horns, flesh like sickness and rot, empty eyes, ulcerated tongues too large for their mouths; the list of horrors was endless. Demons were invariably hideous, and one as powerful as their progenitor, Muzan Kibutsuji, you assumed, must truly be the most unsightly monstrosity of them all.

But Douma was beautiful. 

Beautiful like the iridescent scales of a viper. Beautiful like water hemlock flowers. 

A chill ran through you, your skin pebbling beneath his gentle gaze. There was no doubt this was the demon you were sent to befriend; he was more powerful than anything you had ever known and he was likely to be your executioner. 

“What a long journey you must’ve had. You look so tired,” he said with gentle concern, extending a pale hand toward you, inviting you to take it. “Poor thing. Let me help.”

Win him over. By any means. This monster is the key to finding Kibutsuji. 

You slipped your hand into his and stepped around the doorman. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Oh it’s no problem. I’m so glad you’re here and I’m sorry Mister Takeo was rude to you, he gets antsy on nightwatch.” he leaned in and whispered, his breath colder than a New Year breeze, “he’s afraid of the dark, I suspect.”

The bald man bowed low, a vein in his forehead bulging. “My dear lord founder, I’m simply trying to explain to her that the temple is full. We’ve already reached the capacity of two-hundred and fifty members, and four of them are with child—”

“Takeo, Takeo, Takeo,” Douma chuckled, coiling his fingers around your own and bringing you to his side. His seemingly benign nature concealed a terrifying strength. “Always so worried. It isn’t good for you, you know.”

“My lord…”

“Ah ah! Don’t fret! We’ll make room for her.”

“Make room?” the man, Takeo, said, nodding solemnly. “Yes, my lord. Of course. My apologies.”

A sickening sensation ran through your body as the demon guided you inside, leading you across the threshold hand-in-hand as though the two of you had always been friends. The cloying scent of incense filled your senses, as did the haunting sound of distant chanting. The air was warm, thick and sweet and sat in the back of your throat instead of sinking into your lungs. 

“What’s your name then?” Douma asked, turning suddenly to stare down at you, unblinking as you ventured through the temple’s hallways. He chuckled when you told him, resting his lilac claws against his brow. “Oh I’ll never remember that. I’ll just call you… hm… sweet thing… how about that?”

Your hand almost instinctively darted to your hip to draw your blade, but your nichirin sword was now in the care of Master Ubuyashiki. You had no more need of it. Your fight was done, all that remained for you to do, was to smile and fawn. 

“Sweet thing?” You laughed softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re too kind.”

“It’s kindness you deserve. I think you’ll be happy here. We do our best to live comfortably. You never have to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to suffer– it’s pointless! That’s why it’s called Eternal Paradise.” He laughed brightly. “And you need that, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes; wherever you were before coming here demanded a lot from you. You’re… well, you’re weary. Not just from the climb.”

Was it that obvious? 

“You’re insightful.”

“Of course! You know I hear the voices of gods, right? That’s why my father started this religion, to pay tribute to his gifted child a very long time ago.”

“The gods?” Was that what he believed or a lie he told his followers? Already you could tell this man wore so many masks, you were inclined to believe the latter.

“Mhm! I know all about you. I know you feel lonely, like no one really knows you. I know you often feel like your life is meaningless and you could be so much more if only you had someone to support you. Someone to believe in you.” He stopped and turned to face you, bracing his hands on your shoulders. “Well, I already do. You’ll be so much more here. So much. You’ll be loved and appreciated for all eternity, sweet thing, I can promise you that.”

It was all a gilded lie, but even armed with that awareness, you could easily see how someone might fall for his platitudes. He was affable, strangely soothing, hypnotic, and he gazed at you with those beautiful, otherworldly eyes of his like you and he were the only two higher beings on earth; like you shared a common brilliance, a secret no one else was privy to.  “Thank you, Lord Founder.”

“Oh, you don’t have to call me that, I’ll make an exception for you. Douma will do, or Lord Douma if you crave honorifics,” he chuckled. Slowly, he slid his hands along your shoulders, down your biceps, your forearms, to take your hands gently in his own. “I can already tell you’re different from the others. Your eyes… you see a lot, don’t you? You’re very smart.”

Compliments upon compliments. 

Once on a mission you had found a small and unassuming plant growing in the mountains south of Fukushima which had secreted a glimmering substance to attract flies. The flies would stick to this viscous dew and find themself slowly being digested, helpless and unable to escape.

At the time you had wondered how the poor creatures could find themself trapped over and over again, even while the corpses of their kind lay all around them. But, as you found yourself holding hands with a demon, feeling your face grow warm beneath his radiance, you understood those foolish little flies all too well.

The thunder of hurried footsteps against the wooden floors pulled you from your thoughts as a group of small children ran through the hallway. Douma spun around, smiling as he scooped up one of the children, the ringleader, and held him, screaming and kicking in the air. 

Every muscle in your body, every fiber of your being told you to fight, to protect. It didn’t even matter that you were unarmed. It was only your duty, your oath to win favor with the demon lord, which stayed your hand.

That, and the child was laughing. 

“Ahh, precious little ones!” Douma grinned, holding the tiny giggling child above his head. The others all gathered around the demon, laughing riotously as they tugged on his clothes and poked at his sides, trying anything to break his hold on their friend. “You’re not supposed to run in the temple. No no no,” the demon cooed, his tone playful and musical. “You’ll get hurt. The last thing I want in the whole wide world is for you to fall through a window.”

Gods, the children adored him. It was plain to see, and he so convincingly wore the mask of loving them back just the same. The boy in his arms shrieked with glee as the demon played at nibbling him, growling against his chubby cheeks.

Once the child’s face was streaked with tears of laughter, Douma released him. “Go on, little ones, please play somewhere safer. I’m sure Takeo would love it if you bombarded him.” He smiled and turned back to you. “So tender at that age. They’ve grown up so spoiled here.”

“Are they your children?” you asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

Douma laughed, shaking his head. “Goodness, no. No, I don’t have any children of my own. But I love them. I love all my disciples.”

“They seem very happy.”

“They are. We all are. And you’ll be happy too.” He placed his arm around your shoulder and led you to a side room. The familiar comforting scent of fresh tatami mats greeted you as he slid open the door, along with the tempting sight of a large and comfortable-looking western-style bed.  

“This is where you’ll sleep.” Douma said, lingering in the doorway with an amiable smile. “You’ll be safe, don’t worry. I’ll watch over you.”

And he did. 

That night he remained by your side, talking like you were an old friend until you finally succumbed to sleep. There was no point in forcing yourself to stay awake. If the demon wanted to kill you there was nothing you could have done to stop him.

Rest was essential to keep your mind sharp. That was the only weapon at your disposal. The arduous journey had taken a toll on you, and you slept deeply, lost in the most lucid dream. 

A garden of spider lilies, the warmth of the sun on your face. The breeze blew softly like a lover's caress and the man sitting beside you sighed happily. 

"It's working," he said, his deep voice calm and gentle. "I feel stronger."

Relief surged through you at his words, an overwhelming, all-consuming happiness and hope that he would finally be okay. You didn't need to turn to see him to know who he was. This man was your husband; you knew it with utmost certainty. Your heart and soul were entirely bound to him. 

"Thank goodness."

He reached out his slender hand and laced his fingers with yours. And you could feel that strength surging through him, but you no longer feared his power. The grip on your hand was so warm and comforting it made your heart ache. 

"My love…" you whispered, turning to face him. 

The man smiled as the dappled sunlight shone upon his handsome face through the crimson maple leaves. Long black hair which spilled like ink down his shoulders, warm mahogany eyes which gazed at you with an adoration unlike anything you’d ever felt. 

You loved him.

Gods, you loved him so completely. He was finally well. Finally free of pain. 

He sighed contentedly, bringing up your hand to brush the back of it with his lips. "We’ll find each other again."

And then came a sharp pinch of fanged teeth sinking into your flesh, the slick heat of your lover’s tongue lapping at the wound, the tightening coil deep in your core drawing an exquisite cry from between your lips.

You awoke with a start, bolting upright as Douma set his book down. The demon reclined on the end of your bed, watching you with fond fascination. “Bad dream, sweet thing?”

That man; his ink black hair and beguiling voice. Even as the image of him faded into obscurity, you found yourself longing to see him again. You forced yourself to focus. “Vivid.” 

“Ah, it’s the incense. You’ll get used to it.”

“How long did it take you?”

Douma chuckled, idly playing with a plucked thread on the bed sheets. “I don’t remember. I was just a baby.”

Demons were once humans, even upper ranks, and you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he’d lived before being turned. “You’ve always been here?”

He nodded, his lips curving into something resembling a smile. Convincing yes, but not genuine. “Always. The temple was founded for me. I’ve served my followers all my life. Listened to their confessions, given advice, granted them forgiveness…”

God, had that doomed mortal boy known nothing beyond the temple? Had his short years been spent swarmed by the prayers of others, constantly beseeching him for help, confessing wickedness a child shouldn't learn about until much, much later? 

A sudden and overwhelming sorrow filled you as you watched him fidget.

Perhaps it was the lingering after effects of the dream, but something akin to pity gathered in your chest. “I’m so sorry. That’s a lot to put on a child. You must have felt quite alone.”

For the briefest moment, his simulated smile faltered and something so heartbreakingly sincere took its place. And in that instant, with that miniscule opening of vulnerability you realized, the key to winning him over, to earning his trust, was to let him feel seen.

“Now who's insightful?” He chuckled, waving his hand as his lips curved up once more. “It’s fine. Let’s not worry about me. It’s your first night here. You should get back to sleep, sweet thing.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you said, sitting up in the bed and scooting toward him. “Let's talk. I want to hear more about you.”

The demon simply stared, apparently lost for words. It was as you suspected. All his life he had listened to the stories of others, but rarely, if ever, had he had someone willing to listen to his. People came to him for absolution, for paradise, but they never gave back. If you were to succeed, you had to be that person. His confidant. His only friend. 

“What was it like, growing up here?” you asked, scooting down the bed to recline beside him. 

He remained silent, dropping the thread and staring back at you, his forked eyebrows knitting in contemplation before he spoke. “You’re right,” he began. “I guess it was, as you say, quite lonely at times.”

And so began your friendship with the demon. 

Chapter 4.

Weeks passed. Weeks of conversation and entertaining your monstrous new friend. 

You quickly learned what interested Douma; he enjoyed music, pondering the nature of things, smoking shisha, bathing in sake, and you found a way to include yourself in all his favorite activities, all the while asking questions about his life and the way he saw the world.

You sat by the edge of the tub as he bathed, combing through his hair while he reminisced about his early life at the temple. When he smoked, you reclined beside him, discussing morality and the depths of human darkness. And when members of the temple played music for his pleasure, you danced with him, sharing gossip between yourselves whenever the steps brought you close enough to indulge in whispers. 

It became apparent he didn’t like loud people or what he perceived as stupidity. That was plain to see during his sermons when his followers clamored around him, begging him for his blessing. Sometimes, if only for a fraction of an instant, his mask would slip, and his smile would fade to a lifeless, distant stare. He would get away as quickly as possible, retiring to his room– sometimes yours. 

“I find them all so… so dreadfully tiresome,” he confessed one night, the tip of his waterpipe’s mouthpiece resting on his lower lip. “Please don't tell them, sweet thing. They mustn't know.”

“Your secret's safe with me, Douma,” you assured him. “No matter what you tell me, it will always stay between us.”

“Thank you.” He leaned against you, resting his head on your shoulder and sighed, blowing a cloud of sweet smoke from his nostrils. “It's nice to have someone to talk to. Everyone wants to speak but no one ever wants to talk.”

As you came to know him, to understand his strange mind, the more you were certain he didn't believe a single word he preached in the temple. He didn't believe in gods or heaven, and he certainly didn't think they spoke through him. 

But sometimes a member of the cult— almost always a woman— would go missing, her absence explained with a benevolent smile as the demon announced to his faithful masses, “She went to paradise.”

Those announcements were always happily received by the others. They truly had no idea they were simply livestock kept in a gilded pen, unknowingly awaiting the day of their slaughter. But they adored him, worshiped him. Day in and day out they begged to be granted eternal peace. You wondered if some of them would beg with as much fervor if they knew what it entailed.

Three months after you first arrived at the temple, you found him alone as he often was after the worshipers had retired to their quarters for the night. The demon sat cross-legged on a large, plush cushion, gazing at nothing at all, his lips curved into the empty smile of a doll. He was a hollow puppet whose strings had been set down, his rainbow-colored eyes wide and devoid of emotion, his appearance so unsettlingly uncanny every cell in your body begged you to flee. 

But you couldn't. 

In all the time you had been at the temple he had yet to divulge a single bit of information about Muzan. Every few days your kasugai crow would meet you in the gardens when the sun was brightest so Douma had no chance of hearing the reports you sent back to Master Inuyashiki. But there was never anything to tell, and so your duty compelled you to stay.

“Ah! My dear, sweet thing,” Douma said, the moment he noticed you, his features flooding with vibrant life before falling into a pout. “You weren’t at the service, I was afraid you’d run away from me.”

“And leave my dearest Douma? Never,” you smiled, concealing your deepest wish. Douma wore his masks and you wore yours.

He chuckled and extended his arms, inviting you into them. “I’d be heartbroken.”

Despite his almost ethereal beauty Douma was unfathomably strong. Yet he held you with such tenderness, playing with your hair as you took what had become your usual spot on the cushion with him. It was not uncommon for you to find yourself cuddling up to the monster. His pantomimed affection was often expressed physically, though he had never once attempted to pursue you romantically or sexually.

“How was your day?” you asked, subconsciously leaning into his touch. It was somehow quite soothing. 

“Oh… not so great. I'm afraid I've displeased my master.”

Your pulse quickened at once. There was the window you'd worked toward since your arrival. You wasted no time. “You have a master?”

“Mh… I do. My dear lord Muzan. He's very wise, and very strong, and very very cross with me.” He sighed forlornly and stretched, like a tiger basking on a rock in the sun. “Perhaps you'll meet him some day.”

Your heart squeezed inside your ribcage, your body bristling and chest aching with a sudden sense of… of what? It wasn't fear, as perhaps it should have been. No… it was excitement… it almost felt like longing…

Was your duty to the demon slayer corps so strong that even the chance at laying eyes on Muzan Kibutsuji could provoke such a visceral reaction? Surely you wouldn't survive such an encounter. Had you come to terms with death to the extent you welcomed it?

Douma laughed softly, stroking his claw along the curve of your cheek. “My, you're blushing, sweet thing. And your heart… it's racing.”

“It is?” You raised your hand to rest it on your chest, feigning concern. “I can't think why.”

“Some fresh air will do you good. Let's go out and walk a little while, just you and I. My master has given me a task and I'm struggling to complete it, if I'm being honest. Maybe you can help?”

The temple gardens were bathed in moonlight as you stepped out, arm in arm onto the flower-lined paths. The summer heat lingered long after sundown, the air thick and humid as cicadas chittered in the trees. 

“Such noisy little things,” Douma sighed, wafting himself with a golden fan.

“What are we looking for?” 

“A flower,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and guided you down the pathways. “A blue spider lily. If you see one you must tell me, okay?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion as the demon began his search. Such a flower didn’t exist, you were certain. And even if it did, what use could the king of demons possibly have with such a thing?

Still, you complied to Douma’s strange request, poking around the garden, predictably to no avail. 

“Awh…” Douma sighed at last. “No, still nothing. Lord Muzan won’t be happy.”

“It must be very important.”

“Maybe… I have no idea what he needs it for if I’m being completely honest.” The demon regarded you with a slight smile, his fan fluttering a few inches from the tip of his nose. “Anyway since we’re all alone, there’s something I want to ask you. It seems unlikely anyone inside will hear anything above the racket these pesky insects make.”

A shiver traveled through your body, a sinking sensation gathering in your chest. “Of course,” you said, masking your dread. “Ask me anything.”

He tilted his head, watching you with a curious grin. “Do you truly believe the gods speak through me?”

The world spun a little faster as you considered your answer, your mind racing to predict every conceivable outcome. Surely admitting you didn’t would enrage him and destroy the bond you’d worked so hard to forge. The mission was more important than anything, even more so than your life, yet you found yourself shaking your head. “No.”

Douma froze, his eyes wide, and lips curved into that gentle smile. “No?” The snap of his fan closing caused you to flinch, but he simply chuckled and tapped it against his cheek in contemplation. “You’re very interesting to me, you know that? I said right from the start you aren’t like my other followers. You’ve never treated me like a deity or asked me for anything. I enjoy your company greatly, and… well, I never want to lose you. A while ago… goodness, so long ago now, I had a dear friend, just like you. She and her child came here to the temple and lived here for a time. But… well…” he sighed, his broad shoulders slouching as his smile dropped. “She found out something about me and ran away. I’m afraid that will happen with you.”

“It won’t,” you told him, reaching out to press your hand to his, for the sake of survival if nothing else. “Douma, I promise there’s nothing you could ever tell me that would make me fear you.”

His opalescent gaze fell upon you, studying you, and seeing nothing but the truth. Of course there was nothing he could say to scare you away; you had always known what he was, his terrible, monstrous nature. You’d known it when you slept beneath his watch, when you’d held him in your arms and consoled him through his frustrations. 

“Really?” he laughed. “Even if I told you I was a demon? Even if I confessed to nibbling on the bones of my followers while you slept?”

“Even then,” you assured him, blood running cold as you bumped your shoulder affectionately against his. “We all have to eat.”

He laughed once more; the gleeful sound accompanied by a clap of his hands. “Oh you’re delightful, my sweet thing. Well… I am a demon. And what if I confessed I’d considered eating you?”

“Honestly? I’d have been offended if you hadn’t.” A voice in the back of your mind screamed at you to stop, but what choice did you have? In the time you’d known him, in all the philosophical debates and discussions about morality, he’d seemed to enjoy your bolder stances on the macabre more than anything.

He stared into your eyes, his smile concealing his profound urge to understand your unexpected response. “You aren’t in the least bit disturbed? You don’t want to run screaming?”

“Why would I? Humans kill for pleasure, for jealousy, revenge, spite. In comparison, killing for food seems almost noble.”

“You’re such a rare sort of person. Whatever life you came from before arriving here, must have taught you not to value your own life,” he mused. “Disposable.”

Those words rendered you silent. Because there wasn't a single argument against it you could think of. 

You had long since given up on the dream of growing old. Your death would likely not come for you in a comfortable bed with loved ones holding your wrinkled hands. No, you would die young and afraid, your heart frantically pounding as pointed teeth and claws sunk into your flesh.

The demon lowered his gaze, taking your hand in his once more, and stroking the peaks of your knuckles with his thumb. “My friend, I—” 

A sudden silence descended in the garden, stark and ominous as even the cicadas became mute. Your heart lunged against your ribcage, blood heating the way you'd only ever experienced in the midst of battle. At once, Douma was alert, almost feline in his gestures as he sat to attention, looking back toward the temple, smile widening to reveal his pointed fangs.

“I have to go,” he said, his excitement palpable as he released his hold on you. “I have a visitor.”

▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎

Muzan despised coming to the temple. 

The stifling incense kept constantly burning to cover the stench of death and decaying human bodies. The grotesque facade of worship. Even the simple fact that he was there to speak with Douma at all. Everything about it irritated him. 

The urge to kill the man guarding the door to expel a little of his annoyance did occur to him, but he resisted, ignoring the fool’s protests as he stepped across the threshold and let himself inside. 

If the upper rank demon wasn't so damned strong and so proficient at wielding his blood demon art, he'd gladly burn the entire place to the ground. 

“My dear lord Muzan!” Douma called joyfully, practically galloping in from the gardens, holding out his arms as if he intended to embrace him. “You came to my temple!”

“To make you stand before your accursed disciples while I pluck out your eyeballs,” Muzan hissed, a muscle in his jaw throbbing with frustration. “I gave you an order to search for the blue spider lily, and yet here I find you frolicking around your own garden.”

The idiot giggled. “Oh my dear master, you’re always so painfully morose. But I wasn’t disregarding your request. Why, just then I was searching with a dear friend of mine.”

Muzan’s brow slanted into a quizzical grimace. Douma infuriated him like nothing else. He reeked of sweet smelling incense, tobacco, humans, and nothing else. The demon's total lack of fear riled The Demon King to the point of bloodlust. 

“Actually,” Douma said, snapping his fingers mid-air as though he'd stumbled upon the most insightful plan. “She'd make a wonderful kizuki. Lovely, smart, cunning, actually. She holds no regard for her own life and already knows I’m… hah, well you should consider it. Especially since things didn't quite work out with little Daki and Gyutaro–”

“I have no need to fill that position,” Muzan interjected, cutting the upper rank off. “My remaining kizuki should be more than capable of finding the blue spider lily and destroying the Inuyashiki line. And yet you fumble. You stall. You play games in your own little garden when I command you to search farther afield. I find myself constantly disappointed by you, Douma. Why would I ever want this friend of yours to set foot in the infinity fortress?”

He took more than a little satisfaction in the way Douma’s smile slowly dropped, though even his apparent discomfort was also a lie. 

“Oh…” Douma sulked. “I warned you I’m no good at this, my lord.”

“One more chance, Douma. And this one will be your last.”

The King of Demons issued a silent command to one of his demons he knew would obey without hesitation, and Douma was whisked away with the sudden strum of a biwa before he had a chance to respond.

A slow smile curved the corners of Muzan’s lips as he pictured the fool’s confusion at finding himself hundreds of miles from the temple with nothing to do but search. Nakime, the Biwa Demon’s power and obedience were invaluable. Her expertise with the instrument and her control over the Infinity Fortress were indispensable assets in his ongoing war, and for removing the source of his irritation. 

“Fool,” he muttered, taking a moment to enjoy the silence. 

Ah, but there was still the distant singing, the constant hum of life and human noise all around him, swarming like a cloud of gnats he longed to swat. And the air, thick and perfumed, cloying despite the fact he didn’t even need to breathe. The suffocating sweetness of incense, carrying with it memories he loathed to remember; his sickbed, pointless prayers, looming death.

He felt he was slowly choking, smothered, his outwardly calm and measured steps concealing his urge to claw open his own throat. His lungs were all but obsolete, and yet he felt the need to fill them with clean air, heading toward the temple’s garden and out into the sweltering night. 

The moment his shoes met the gravel path he closed his eyes and dragged the air into his chest, taking a moment to collect himself. His lip curled as he exhaled, that anything should have the audacity to make him feel so desperate. He had half a mind to destroy the temple and slaughter all who dwelled within it, but it would accomplish nothing. 

Clenching his jaw, he opened his eyes and slowly exhaled, only then becoming aware of a presence in the garden. A woman, pacing beneath the boughs of a maple tree, no doubt the new favorite of Upper Moon Two. 

You. 

You remained unaware of his presence, staring across the moonlit garden, deep in contemplation, your mind no doubt whirring over some trivial nonsense. 

It shouldn’t have mattered. 

But for a moment Muzan, with all his strength, power, and control, could not tear himself away. Your mannerisms, your expressions. The pucker of your brow, the way your lips formed around silent musings, the stubbornness and tenderness radiating from you.

Yes… he knew you. 

From where, he had no clue. Perhaps you were the wife of some businessman he’d befriended in his pursuit of knowledge. Maybe a courtesan who had run from Yoshiwara but had worked in the same house he had infiltrated. A friend of the family who had adopted him? No… no that wasn’t it. 

Across the centuries he had encountered so many mortals their faces all blurred into featureless blobs. But not yours. And yet, he couldn’t place it. 

The sweltering warmth of the night clung to him, pressing against the exquisite fabric of his fine clothes. Somewhere within the temple someone was pounding a drum, the constant throb near deafening. 

And as if summoned by the sound, you turned, lips parting as your eyes met his. 

It was only a momentary glance before you scurried off into the temple, perhaps seeking your beloved master, but with it the rhythm was thrown entirely off-kilter, thrumming rapidly through his entire body. He wanted to follow. He longed to follow. But why? He couldn’t stand it. 

“Nakime,” he commanded silently, and a moment later he stood in his fortress, surrounded by the calm, cool air yet still tormented by that ceaseless drum. 

Instinctively he brought his hand to his chest, eyes wide and frantic as he realized the sound came from within him. But from even deeper came an sickening realization, one he refused to acknowledge. Yes he knew you. Yes he knew where from. But no, he would not believe it. 

There were no gods, no hell, no life after death. Souls were not reborn. Such notions were mere fantasies conjured by frightened mortals comforting themselves through their own fragility. You simply reminded him of her. That was all. 

She was a thousand years dead. He’d more than seen to that. 

He took a measured breath and picked up his journal, attempting to study his most recent attempt at recreating the medicine which had transformed him, but the words blurred in front of his eyes. Perhaps one more visit to the temple would set his mind at ease. If he saw you again, looked at you with a calm and rational eye, he would see he was mistaken. 

But if he wasn’t?

With a frustrated growl he slammed the book on the table and retired to his private room, laying on his large, unnecessary bed, and trying very hard not to look at the vase standing in the corner of the room. 

The vase a foolish, frightened boy had once broken, and that Muzan had meticulously put back together, piece by shattered piece.

Chapter 5.

Days passed. For Muzan, they were days of frustration, of silencing his own thoughts and trying to snuff them out by immersing himself in his research. But it was no use. You were a plague running rampant through his mind. A blight upon his concentration. 

Muzan sat in a comfortable armchair in the heart of his stronghold, rubbing his eyelids with his thumb and finger while his Upper Moon One, Kokushibo, apologized profusely for his lack of progress on his mission. 

“Ubuyashiki has evaded my attempts to discover his location again,” Kokushibo said, his words slow and measured, all six of his eyes downcast.  “I have failed. There is no excuse for it.”

The demon king sighed, dismissing the upper rank’s apology with a casual wave of his hand. The image of you lingered in the back of his mind, twisting with the memory of her; the snow in her hands, the comfort of her arms around him, the desperation in her eyes as he sunk his teeth into her flesh. Pain, betrayal, fear. 

He hadn’t known back then that he possessed the ability to create demons. All that mattered in those first days after his transformation was blood and flesh, his hunger, his urge to rampage and destroy, drowning out all else. 

Had he known, he wondered, would he have turned her? Would he have condemned her to an eternity of darkness at his side by giving her the gift of his blood? She had loved him so much she may well have come willingly into the shadows with him…

“Shall I perform seppuku?” Kokushibo asked, not that such an act would do anything to him which couldn’t be healed in an instant. 

“No, you are dismissed,” Muzan sighed, standing and walking away from the bewildered demon. “Nakime?” He called upon the Biwa Demon, knowing she was always watching from some discrete corner of the fortress. 

“You wish to return to the temple?” she said. 

Did he? Certainly some part of him did, a part which would not be satisfied until he had answers. Enough was enough. He was certain. “Yes.”

The twang of her instrument sounded, and he found himself in a bedroom within the temple of the Eternal Paradise faith. It was a simple room, comfortably furnished, and from the small pile of neatly folded clothes inside the dresser drawer, it belonged to a woman. Her scent was vaguely familiar, but then, he supposed, all humans smelled somewhat alike. 

Even then, he knew he was kidding himself. It was, without doubt, your room. Just the few seconds he had spent in the garden with you had ingrained your aroma into his consciousness. He would know you if his eyes were plucked out of his head. 

And he knew it wasn’t Nakime’s doing, but his. Nakime obeyed his will, and he had sought you. 

He only needed the room for the moment it took to alter his appearance to fit in with the rest of the disciples. His clothes materialized on his body at will; a black yukata embroidered with gold, fit for the summer heat. He half considered letting his hair grow long so he looked more like his mortal self, but decided against it. That was folly. He was simply there to observe, sate his curiosity, and then leave. 

He had only seen you for a moment, and surely his mind had twisted the image of you into something you barely even resembled. Once he laid eyes on you again he could continue his life unbothered by you.

But he hesitated, glancing back at the drawer before pulling it open and leafing through your garments. Nothing like hers. 

Of course a thousand years had passed, fashion had changed time and time again, but he took that little victory and clung to it. 

Stepping out of the room and into the hallway, he sniffed the air, but any trace of you was masked by that accursed incense. Frustration simmered beneath his surface as he set out in search of you. Windows in the temple were few and far between, making it far easier for its founder to move freely within its walls but the constant distant chirp of birds told Muzan it was the middle of the day and so he remained confined to the interior of the building. 

And you were nowhere to be found. 

Anger gathered in his chest with every room he explored, with every passing minute. Had you been a demon, he would have had no trouble locating you, but humans were an altogether more elusive creature. Humans were difficult to tell apart, unknowingly able to disguise themselves amongst crowds and gatherings, and the temple was full of them. 

He was about to give up and return to his fortress when he felt you. 

That constant thrum of his heart drowning out his thoughts, the way the little hairs at the back of his neck tingled and stood on end. Yes… it had to be you. You were outside in the garden yet again, beyond his reach. 

His fingers curled into white-peaked fists as the veins in his forehead throbbed. If he was to see you again, he would have to wait, trapped like a damned animal. 

Memories of her clamored at the back of his skull; his sickbed, pain and weakness an inescapable prison, the soft sheets swaddling and stifling him while she talked to the staff outside.

He could hear her voice amongst the bird song, requesting they put a particular species of plant outside his window. How he longed to see it, to see which flower she had chosen to line his confines. Red spider lilies perhaps, to guide his spirit after his impending death. Or perhaps scarlet camelias. 

“It isn’t a flower,” she had told him later that night as she climbed onto his futon, carrying with her the scent of the outdoors, a fact he loved and resented in equal measure. 

“Then what?”

“It’s a carnivorous plant to stop the insects from bothering you. Their sticky sap attracts the flies and they trap them to be digested.”

His dark brows slanted in confusion. “You surrounded me with murderous plants?”

“Yes,” she replied, as if that were a perfectly normal thing to do. “But as long as you aren’t reincarnated as a fly you have nothing to worry about.”

“That would be my luck, to spend my next life circling a pile of pig shit before getting stuck on one of your infernal plants.”

She chuckled, leaning in to kiss his brow as she slipped an arm around him. “After you die, if I see a fly with your sullen expression stuck to one of the plants I’ll free you.”

He grumbled, though he was happier than he had ever been. “You’ll pull off my wings.”

“Then I’ll keep you. You can live in the hibako. You can be my little shit pet. I’ll bring you with me everywhere.”

“Foul.” His nose crinkled in distaste as he pushed her away. Laughing, she rolled off the futon despite his meager strength. “Wretched woman. I’d sooner go to hell.”

Muzan’s jaw tightened, his palms pressed against the plaster of the temple’s walls as though he could reach you through them and bring you inside. You could not be her. 

He wouldn’t believe it. 

And the sooner he saw you, the sooner he could put those thoughts to rest. 

▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎

Douma was nowhere to be found. You had spent days exploring the temple, searching for your companion, asking all who were willing to answer you if they knew where he’d gotten to. 

Word had spread that you were Douma’s favorite, a status which loosened some tongues and tightened others, but the consensus was that no one knew where the Lord Founder had gone. It seemed he had vanished without a trace.

Despite his apparent absence, you still took precautions, only relaying messages to Mokutan, your Kasugai crow, when the sun was highest. The temple gardens were prettier in the day, scarlet spider lilies swaying in the breeze as insects danced among their petals stealing sips of nectar. 

“He’s gone missing,” you told the bird “I haven’t seen him since he confessed that he’s a demon. He said he had a visitor and then never returned. I’ll keep searching.”

The crow tilted his head, clicking his tongue before hopping in a circle around the garden path. “Embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing?” you frowned. “How so?”

“Three months. No news. Lost the demon.” Mokutan flew up into the trees overhead. “No one to cuddle with now.” A deep, rattling cackle sounded from the bird as he took off, circling the temple before soaring north east.

An indignant huff escaped you as you watched the bird become a black dot amongst the vast blue sky then fade from view. And with that you were alone again. 

Except your instincts told you that you weren't. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you found the garden empty, but the feeling that someone was watching you was an unshakable one. But aside from the insects and a couple of sparrows flitting around on the temple roof, there was no one there. 

“I'm losing my mind,” you whispered with a shudder as you stood and made your way inside. 

Ordinarily you would have taken your lunch and returned to Douma to sit with him while he smoked and talked, allowing your conversations to meander down winding paths in hopes of discovering information. But there was nothing for you to do. No one to talk to.

In a strange way, you missed him.

Deflated, you made your way back to the temple. Most of the disciples were in the main hall eating lunch, but you didn't have the stomach to join them. Instead you took your food and left, the faint hum of chatter fading as you walked toward the sleeping quarters. 

Your mind wandered, plagued by theories of where the demon could have gone. 

He never needed to leave the temple to hunt; his meals came readily to him, falling on their knees before him and begging to be delivered to paradise. It seemed likely then that he had been sent on a mission by his master. At least, you hoped. There was still the question of who his mysterious visitor had been. 

Of course the obvious answer was Muzan himself, but then you were certain, people would have reacted to seeing such a monstrous creature in their midst. With two hundred and fifty members of the cult, someone would have seen the abomination roaming around the temple. 

Your mind was so busy with thoughts and theories, you didn’t notice the man in the corridor until your shoulder smacked against his, sending your bowl of rice and stewed meat clattering to the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” you gushed, turning around to bow in apology, but the sight of him immediately stole your breath and froze you in place. He was quite tall and pale, with piercing mahogany eyes and ebony curls which gently framed his handsome face. Ordinarily the air in the temple was warm and stiflingly sweet, but in this man’s presence you felt as though you could finally draw breath for the first time. There was something about him, something so deeply comforting. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

His pristine black and gold yukata was flecked with sticky, white grains of rice, his lips curving into an amused smile as he picked them off and held them in his palm. “It’s no trouble,” he said, his voice deep, smooth, and beguiling. “I was quite distracted too.”

His smile. Those eyes. A sudden sense of deja vu overcame you as the two of you knelt on the floor and cleaned up the mess.

“Is this the type of food they serve here?” he muttered, grimacing at a gristly chunk of meat. “All these riches pouring in, you’d think the Lord Founder could afford something better for his faithful.”

Hearing him complain lifted your heart, and you laughed, genuinely, for the first time in months. Perhaps because after spending so long surrounded by fawning worshipers it was refreshing to hear. “Agreed. I’ve been here for months and I’m yet to figure out which animal this came from.”

“Concerning.”

“To say the least,” you said. “And yet, it’s sometimes far easier to swallow than the sermons.”

The man laughed too, the sound warm and lovely, sending a wave of relief coursing through you, as though you’d waited an eternity to hear that sound. 

“I feel like I know you,” you said, watching as he scooped a handful of rice back into your bowl, his nose wrinkling at his messy fingers. “I recognize you. Have we met before?”

He arched a sleek black brow before his eyes returned to yours. “Really? I haven’t been here long…”

The answer came to you suddenly, the memory of him bathed in moonlight as clear as day in your mind’s eye. “You were in the garden, weren’t you? Three nights ago, I saw you.” 

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Ah, that was you? Yes, that must be it.”

And yet… it wasn’t. 

Even then you’d felt a strange sense of knowing in the moment your eyes met his. 

You nodded anyway in an attempt to sate your ravenous curiosity, picking a grain of rice from his shoulder and flicking it into the bowl. “Actually, perhaps you can help me. I’m looking for the Lord Founder and I haven’t seen him since that night. You didn’t happen to see him before you came outside, did you?”

His gaze drifted down to the spot on his shoulder your hand had grazed over, only for a moment, but long enough for you to realize how out of place your casual touch had been. You didn’t even know this man and yet you felt comfortable acting so familiar.

“I can’t say that I did,” he said, rocking back on his heels to stand, offering his hand to you to help you off the floor. “My name is Tsukihiko, by the way.”

Your hand slotted into his, his palm smooth and warm, and his strength apparent as he supported your ascent. “Tsukihiko…” It sounded odd on your tongue, strangely out of place. It suited him but it didn’t quite fit. His brow furrowed as you told him your name, perhaps committing it to memory, though it seemed for a moment he almost disapproved of yours too. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tsukihiko.”

“Likewise.” He bowed politely before taking a step away from you. And then he paused, as though he felt the painful tug of a thread connecting the two of you. “If you don’t mind being seen with a man covered in rice and… what is this? Stew?”

“Yes, stew I believe.” Gods, your heart was racing. 

“Well, in any case, If you’d allow me to accompany you back to the dining hall, I’d be honored to do so. We can refill your bowl.”

You wanted to. Desperately. But you weren’t there to socialize or talk with handsome men. You were there with a mission, one whose chance of success was, at best, precarious. Your duty to the Demon Slayer Corps was the priority. It was non-negotiable.

But then again, Douma was nowhere to be found, and you would have only been sitting alone in your room anyway. And Tsukihiko was beautiful…

“I’d love to,” you said. “The stains aren’t so bad that you’ll damage my reputation.”

“No? I’ll do? Good,” he gave a slanted smile in response, the curve of his lips so utterly hypnotic your heart couldn’t help but flutter. 

The man walked beside you as you made your way back to the dining hall. The heady weight of a hundred eyes following your every move felt heavier than usual. Douma’s followers were naturally curious about you, knowing how close you were to their lord founder, and now, no doubt, wondering why you were accompanied by this undeniably handsome stranger.

Tsukihiko paid them no mind, taking your bowl and filling it for you before taking one for himself. “There,” he said, the rich red of his eyes warm and comforting like glowing coals in the dead of winter. “I have heard that good company can make even the most putrid meals palatable…”

“Oh? You have?” You met his subtle smile with your own, though it was considerably less understated. You couldn’t help yourself. Gods, the man made your pulse race and your body heat. “Well, it’s worth a try.”

“Agreed.” He looked around for an empty spot for the two of you to see, but the dining hall was packed. “Hm…”

“We could eat outside in the garden?” you suggested. It was a lovely day, and the thought of spending it sitting out in the sun with him, breathing the fresh air was extremely appealing. 

“Ah, I’m afraid I burn very easily.” Tsukihiko remained silent for a moment before he spoke again. “Perhaps somewhere quiet where we can talk for a while?”

Thank goodness Douma had come to think of you as his favorite. Your status made you bold and allowed you to get away with sneaking into a secluded, curtained off corner of the temple where the demon would have sat to receive tributes from his faithful followers. 

Fat purple cushions cradled the two of you as you sat cross-legged and ate together. Tsukihiko ate slowly, holding his chopsticks delicately between his elegant fingers. 

“Well?” you asked. “Is the company helping?”

He chuckled, “It is. The meat is tough and the rice and vegetables are overcooked mush, but I haven’t enjoyed a meal this much in a long time.”

You were completely charmed by him. Handsome, unassuming, simply pleasant to be around. The easy way his smile curved his lips, the graceful movements of his hands… he was mesmerizing. “So, what brings you to the temple?” you asked, almost fearing the answer. Many who came to the Eternal Paradise cult came from less than happy lives. “Did you come alone, or is your family here too?”

“I’m alone.” He remained silent for a while, as if deep in thought.  “And I might ask the same of you,” he answered eventually. “Why are any of us here? To avoid death.”

That answer was the one you dreaded most of all; that he might believe the demon’s promises for eternal life. That it might spell the end for him. “Death isn't something to fear. It's simply a function of our bodies.”

His brow furrowed, though whether in anger or contemplation you couldn’t be sure. “Spoken as someone who has never faced it.”

“Spoken as someone who knows it all too well,” you responded, a little harsher than intended.

“Ah… you’ve lost loved ones?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, setting his bowl aside to dedicate his attention fully to you. “I don’t—”

The curtain beside you parted, cutting Tsukihiko’s sentence short. The bald-headed doorman, Takeo, stood in the triangle of dim light between the luxurious swathes of silk. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” the man said flatly. “Were you anyone but the lord founder’s friend, you’d be thrown out of the temple for sacrilege.”

“We’re just eating our meal, Takeo. Lord Douma wouldn’t mind—”

“Well that’s just the thing, isn’t it?” the bald man interrupted. “Our lord is missing, and you were the last person to see him before he disappeared.”

“What exactly are you implying?” Tsukihiko asked, his eyes fixed on the doorman. He remained seated, his body language relaxed, but the intensity of his carmine stare gave the larger man pause. 

“Nothing… just that he isn't here to say whether this is right or not.”

“We'll leave,” you said, standing and picking up your empty bowl. Tsukihiko followed your lead, standing and passing his bowl to you when you silently offered to take it. It was still full, though the food had been stirred together and toyed with. Apparently even your company hadn't been enough to make it truly palatable. “Don't worry about it, Takeo,” you said. “And if I hear anything of the Lord Founder's return I'll let you know.”

“Do. And I’ll be sure to inform him that you were bringing men back here like a common harlot. We’ll see whether he minds that at all.”

A shift in the air gave you pause, a throbbing sense of danger you’d experienced many times when out on patrol. It was the sensation of knowing something or someone wanted to kill, an instinctive sense for the unbridled and insatiable hunger of demons. A desire for blood and violence so strong you half wondered if Takeo was a demon himself.

Thankfully, Tsukihiko simply stared in silence at your back, his presence in itself reassuring. The last thing you needed was him jumping to your defense.

Yet anger, indignation, and dread warred in your mind against your trained instinct to remain calm. Losing favor with Douma would spell disaster for the mission, and so you smiled and said gently, “You’re such a worrier, Takeo. There’s no need for it. I was simply talking to a friend.”

The man's eyes narrowed as you passed by, taking the bowls from your hands and glaring as you passed by. Some part of you hoped that by the time Douma returned to the temple he would have forgotten the trespass.

In any case, you silently scolded yourself. You needed to be more careful. You needed to focus on your mission, no matter how handsome and charming the distraction was. 

“Thank you for eating with me,” Tsukihiko said as the pair of you walked out into the hallways.

“It was my pleasure. I’m only sorry we were interrupted.” 

The man walked silently and remained at your side as you ambled through the temple, apparently neither one of you willing to part ways just yet.

But you had to. The mission was everything. 

“Tsuki–”

“I think I would like to go to the garden with you,” he said, those mahogany eyes fixed on yours. “Tonight? I would like to talk to you more.”

 Your heart stilled. No good would come of it; you knew it just as surely as you knew you had to say no. Not only would agreeing endanger the mission, but also his life, and your own. 

And yet…

The thought of never seeing him again was worse. 

“I’d like that,” you said, your answer met with a smile which teased out your own. “I’ll see you tonight, Tsukihiko.”

It was a terrible decision, and you knew it.

“Focus,” you ordered yourself later as you paced your room and tried to ignore that constant flutter which resided in your chest whenever you thought of him. “Find Muzan Kibutsuji. That’s the mission. That’s all you need to focus on.”

Drawing a deep breath to calm your nerves, you took time to organize your thoughts, but he was there, invading every one of them. Tsukihiko and his smile, gazing at you against a backdrop of silk. Tsukihiko and his quiet laughter, like the rumbling comfort of a distant thunderstorm. 

And above all else, the promise of Tsukihiko waiting for you later beneath the maple trees, bathed in radiant moonlight.

But before that you had work to do.

Douma was missing and you had no hope of finding him; he would return when he returned. But his trusted disciple, Takeo, didn’t like you and seemed intent on destroying everything you’d worked toward. That needed to be rectified before anything else; you had to calm Takeo. 

So, steeling your resolve, you set out to make amends. 

Chapter 6. 

Muzan had always preferred innards. They seemed to offer more nutritional value than skin and the shallow layers of flesh below it. They were warm and pleasant to bite into; sometimes squirming on his tongue when the nerves were still firing. 

The doorman’s innards were much, much more palatable than his manners. 

“Please…” Takeo gasped. His voice, once so grating, was nothing more than a weak rasp. He was all screamed out and Muzan had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say. Deep in the Infinity Fortress there was no one to hear his pleas for mercy beside the demon king, and he had no intention of granting it.

Cracking open a rib, Muzan sucked out the marrow and contemplated the situation.

You remained a plague in his thoughts. Meeting you had done nothing to quell the incessant tug he felt, pulling him toward you. If anything it had gotten worse. And that enraged Muzan beyond measure. 

He despised that you distracted him from his goal. 

He loathed that he had felt compelled to act so meekly in your presence.

He even hated that you’d mentioned that you’d lost loved ones; even that you had loved ones at all. The thought of your heart aching for anyone else… no, why should it matter? You were nothing. 

You were no one.

And yet above all else, it infuriated him to hear you call him Tsukihiko. The name had been a perfectly good one when he’d given it to other humans, even those who believed him to be their husband while he manipulated them into providing him with information. It was a fine name. But on your tongue it was abhorrent. 

He needed to hear you utter his name. 

And the worst of it, he was almost certain you looked nothing like her. Not even the evolving fashion or beauty trends were to blame for that. You simply were not her. And yet… and yet when you smiled, when you laughed, when you teased him, and walked by his side, he felt her. 

“Perhaps I’ve spent too long in darkness,” he muttered, setting the hollowed rib on a platter beside him and dabbing the corner of his mouth with a silk napkin. “I find myself half-believing in ghost stories.”

“No more…” the fool on the table croaked, his voice veil-thin. “Please…kill me…”

“Do I look like a man prone to granting mercy, Takeo?” Muzan responded flatly, standing from the table and walking away, leaving his meal half-eaten. He tasted as bad as the temple’s food smelled anyway. 

There was only one thing for it; he had to see you again. Perhaps he would have to kill you and be rid of you entirely. In less than a day you had managed to work your way beneath the surface of his skin and become a persistent nuisance, a splinter he needed to pluck out and be done with.

“Nakime, return me to the temple of the Eternal Paradise faith.”

The sharp twang of strings sent him straight to the garden; a fact he was grateful for as it meant he didn’t have to suffocate in that infernal incense while he searched for you. The moon was a thin crescent, barely illuminating the garden. Not that it mattered to him. Muzan’s vision was perfect even in the pitch dark. And he saw you at once.

You stood once more beneath the maple trees, a little oil lamp burning by your feet as you stared out into the darkness, completely oblivious to his presence. You weren’t afraid; he could hear your pulse thumping slow and steady. You were at ease in the night, delighted even, watching fireflies flash among the scarlet spider lilies, taking deep, greedy breaths of the cool night air. 

Did the incense inside bother you as much as it did him, he wondered. Did you find similar solace in the garden as he did, content in your own company, separating yourself from the herd huddled within the temple. 

Very quickly, he found himself once more bewitched by you.

Your eyes unknowingly met his, completely unaware of his proximity as he stood in his shroud of shadow, as though drawn to him by pure instinct alone. And damn it all, his heart thundered. How he longed to… to what? Kill? No… No, that drive was all but docile now.

But he wondered if you would feel the same in his arms as she once had. That comfort, that sense of belonging, of a tranquility only her embrace could offer. Even as a mortal man he had found himself so often consumed by rage, embittered by the world which had cursed him with a weak body and a life of constant pain. She had never succeeded in taking that from him, not fully despite her efforts. But her love distracted him from it for a time, her blunt and heavy-handed affection dulling the edges enough for him to find slivers of relief. 

And those brief moments of respite were nothing compared to the surge of strength and the complete absence of pain granted to him by the blue spider lily formula. The night he transformed, a demon imbued with immeasurable power, he had taken her life. And it had been so very easy. 

As easy as it would be to snuff out yours. 

Returning his attention to you once more, he found that you were no longer sitting, but alert, poised to flee or perhaps to fight, your eyes wide and heartbeat thundering. The electric scent of adrenaline peppered the air. Your instincts told you something dangerous lurked in the dark, and you raised the lamp to peer into the abyss. 

Your fear reminded Muzan of his nature, cemented his resolve. He was there for one purpose, and one purpose only. 

He was beside you in an instant, your sudden cry ringing out through the garden. 

▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎○▪︎

“Fuck!” a sudden spike of terror pierced your heart and emptied your lungs as Tsukihiko appeared beside you, smiling pleasantly.

“Good evening,” the man chuckled softly. “I’m sorry I startled you.”

A wave of heat washed over your face as you pressed your fingertips to your lips. “Tsukihiko! I’m so sorry. You must think I’m awfully vulgar.”

He dismissed your concern with a wave of his hand, “There’s no need for you to be sorry. It’s a dark night, I should have made more noise as I approached.”

In the golden glow of your oil lamp you could clearly see his attempts to suppress his amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched you with those hypnotic mahogany eyes. And you found yourself at ease immediately, a huff of laughter escaping you as Tsukihiko broke into a grin. 

“Stop,” you chuckled, brushing a hand against his forearm. “It’s not funny.”

“It is a little.”

That man. You hardly knew him, yet somehow he already felt like an old friend. You walked with him, arm-in-arm down the shadowy paths, lighting your way with the little lamp, until you came at last to a lotus pond. The firelight illuminated the tranquil surface of the obsidian water, stirred only by the occasional insect and the ripples of the fish below. 

“How has your evening been so far?” the man asked, as he sat beside you on a curved stone bench. 

“Frustrating. I tried to find Takeo, the man who interrupted us earlier. I wanted to smooth things over with him but I haven’t been able to find him since.”

Tsukihiko gave a short, thoughtful hum. “I wouldn’t worry about him. I’m sure he has bigger problems to deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, with the Lord Founder still missing, I imagine that man— what was his name again?”

“Takeo?”

“Takeo, yes. I imagine he has to handle a lot of the founder’s duties in his absence.”

That made sense, and made you a little more hopeful that your earlier transgression would be forgotten. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“But we didn’t come here to talk about Takeo, did we? Tell me about you. You’re very mysterious.”

“Me?” you chuckled. Mysterious wasn’t a word you’d use to describe yourself, and yet, the more you thought about it, the more you came to realize there weren’t a lot of details you could share about your life, and certainly not about your work with the Demon Slayer Corps. Civilians such as Tsukihiko were unaware of the Corps and even the existence of demons. Of course there were folktales and stories of monsters that prowled the night and preyed upon hapless individuals in the countryside, but judging by the way he dressed, Tsukihiko was from the city and likely didn’t believe in such things. 

But you shared what you could; where you were born, who you were raised by and the life you so long ago left behind. And Tsukihiko listened intently, seemingly fascinated by the mundanity of your heavily edited tale. 

“And now you’re here,” he said. “And I’m grateful that you are. This may only be the second time we’ve met, yet you somehow make everything more bearable.”

There again came that wave of heat rising on your cheeks, the flutter in your chest. “I feel the same way. It’s like… it’s as though I’ve known you my entire life and yet I don’t know you at all.”

He swallowed hard, his throat flexing above the hem of his yukata. “What would you like to know?”

“Who are you?” you heard yourself asking. 

He stared at you for a moment before he smiled, turning his gaze from you to the still waters of the lotus pond. “I’m Tsukihiko.”

“And who is he? You said that you’re alone here. What about family? Children?” you asked, hesitating slightly before you continued. “A wife?” 

“A wife,” he chuckled quietly. “I had a wife.”

Had. 

“Oh.” An overwhelming sense of sadness overcame you, reflected back in his soulful eyes as his smile slowly faded. And at once you knew. The all-too-familiar pain in his eyes– the agony of one who had lost someone they loved dearly. Throughout your career as a demon slayer, you’d seen it countless times. “If it’s too painful to speak of—”

He shook his head, “It was many years ago. She died very young.” Silence fell between the two of you, broken only by the heavy breath which shivered from between his lips. “I was a sickly boy. My parents almost buried me as a baby, assuming me to be dead. My early years were plagued with illness and a pain no remedy could alleviate. I was so weak. But she… her patience, her compassion, her love. It was an arranged marriage but we came to love and understand one another so easily.”

The fingers on his hand curled as they rested upon his knee, the poor man’s agony so apparent you found yourself reaching out to place your palm over his fist, seeking to reassure him. 

“A beast found its way into our home,” he said, his voice, usually so measured and smooth, trembling as he spoke, laced with agony and shattering desperation. “The neighbors speculated it was a wolf, or perhaps a bear. It attacked her in our bed and left nothing but blood and bones where she once lay.”

You clamped your free hand over your mouth in horror, the image of the blood-soaked room as vivid in your mind’s eye as the man before you. And you could feel it, every second of her agony and fear. You could feel a scream building in your throat as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. There was no doubt in your mind of the true nature of the beast he spoke of. It was undoubtedly a demon.“Tsukihiko…”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he fought to regain his composure. “Had I known…”

“There was nothing you could have done. You were a sick and frightened man.”

Those words seemed to trigger something inside him, his poise crumbling as he turned to face you, pressing his forehead to yours. Your hands raised to gently cradle his face while his fractured breaths blew against your lips

He closed his eyes. “Some part of me has despised myself—”

“No, no, you mustn’t. She loved you. She loved you so dearly.” What were you saying? The words spilled from you, as though your heart was an overflowing cup unable to contain them for even a moment. You spoke them firmly as though they were the irrefutable truth. “She adored you and never once blamed you for any of it, do you hear me?”

He nodded, a single tear spilling over your thumb as you held him. “Forgive me.”

“Of course,” you found yourself saying into the sliver of heated air between your lips and his. “None of it was your fault. I promise. She knew that too.”

Your pulse throbbed against the palm of his hand as he pressed it to the side of your neck, his fingertips seeking the warmth of your skin as his lips hovered agonizingly close to yours. His touches were so familiar, as though you had felt his caress countless times before. 

And some part of you knew it was wrong; the man was a complete stranger grieving his late wife, and yet your lips sought his in the dark, met with such tender softness it made your heart ache and stoked a fire in the pit of your belly. Kissing him felt as natural as breath, and just as necessary; the quiet yet desperate sounds of his pleasure spurring you on, until you were kissing him with such passion the world faded around you.

Nothing else mattered; just you and he, and the overwhelming sense that finally, finally, you were home. And it made no sense at all, and you didn’t care one bit. He kissed you like a man starved, his arms surrounding you, holding you to him with possessive intensity.

And then he drew back, breaths heavy, eyes wide, lips swollen and parted. “Oh…”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m going to hell,” you chuckled, head spinning from the intensity of his kiss. 

“That’s okay, I’ll be there with you,” he said, before closing the gap between you until his lips were locked on yours once more. 

Continue on to Part 2...

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[tenelkadjowrites]

All In - Mingi x Reader (NSFW)

This is an Ateez fic.

Summary: A night of drunken debauchery with your best friend in Las Vegas leads to something you never could imagine.

Genre and warnings: smut. one shot. fem pronouns for reader. best friends to lovers. size kink. drunken consensual sex. drinking. dirty talk. unprotected sex. oral sex. fluff.

Word count: 9,541.

Tag list: @obligatoryidolblog

Author’s Note: I wrote this weeks ago and am only getting around to posting it now, whoops. Some suspension of disbelief is needed in this fic in regards to needing a marriage license lol. Also, thank you to @fallinfllower for allowing me to spam her with a lot of Mingi photos as I worked on this.

This fic is not meant to represent Mingi in any way, shape or form.

               8:35 pm

               “Why are you walking like that?”

               “Like what?”

               “Like you have a fish in your pants,” Mingi says before bursting into laughter.

               You grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him, “Hey! That’s my sultry walk.”

               He is still laughing, “Your sultry walk looks like you’re a drunk as hell divorced 45-year-old mother of two trying to seduce someone.”

               You place your hands against your chest as if wounded, “Really, Mingi, do you have to be so cutting?”

               “You just never wear high heels.” He points out.

               You gesture around the room, “We’re in Vegas. We are about to go get shit faced drunk in a fancy club. I have to wear heels.”

               Mingi is still laughing as you pop back into the bathroom to make sure everything is in place. Tonight is about celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday and having never been in Las Vegas before you were taking the party seriously.

Keep reading

[knucklesdeepmingi]

IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS STORY EVERYWHERE

[tenderlyrenjun]

Jisung moments that have done irrevocable damage to my brain

230219 Jisung’s “kyocera, make some noise”

230311 Jisung’s torso popping and hair brushing back during hot sauce

230429 Jisung’s hip thrust and smirk during countdown

230601 Jisung’s dancey dance during better than gold

230603 Jisung’s walk during the beginning of dreaming

also, 230603 this Jisung dreaming moment

[knucklesdeepmingi]

I just. I need to save this somewhere.

[jeonghan-yoons]

objection your honor, he stole my heart

[jundundun-deactivated20250519]

SONDER

seventeen medieval!au

sonder - the realisation that each passer-by has a life as vivid and complex as your own

TO BE UPLOADED :

SEUNGCHEOL - seuncheol is the head knight of the kingdom of nephele. what happens when seungcheol begins to fall for the princess and resident sweetheart, Y/N

JEONGHAN - you and jeonghan have been enemies since you were children, coming from different kingdoms, each being in line for the throne and knowing you are destined to carry out the same feud created by your ancestors. slowly the lines between love and hate begin to blur as you and jeonghan engage in a passionate, but forbidden, love ( slight romeo and juliet ! au )

JOSHUA - joshua has always stuck to every rule, he listened in all his etiquette classes, learnt how to rule a kingdom for the day he's in charge and never made anyone doubt his golden boy image. what happens when joshua decides to take one step out of the lines of perfect and engage in a fleeting romance with one of his mothers lady in waiting's, and how will he react once he finds out a marriage between his love and younger brother, dino, has been arranged

JUN - you and jun have been best friends ever since you were young, so what happens when the prince of astral begins to distance himself from you in favour of spending his time with his newly arranged fiancé

HOSHI - hoshi never really recovered after the great war, contracting an illness that confined him to bed rest. what happens when you are tasked to nurse hoshi through his, expected, dying days but can't help but we wooed by his persistent charms

WONWOO - what happens when your long time friend, crush and renowned scholar comes back from his year abroad at the kingdom of roseate and finds that things aren't exactly as how he left them.

WOOZI - tba

SEOKMIN - what happens when seokmin, a knight high up in the kingdom of roseates army finds himself unexplainably attracted to a common farm girl. ( slight rapunzel!au )

MINGYU - what happened when baker!mingyu falls in love with a princess with a giant sweet tooth and a stress eating problem

MINGHAO - you were arranged to marry, not by choice, but by force. he's cold and you're sunshine, it will never work.

SEUNGKWAN - seungkwan, famous throughout all the kingdoms for being the showman leading the renowned travelling circus. one princess from the kingdom of roseate seems to enjoy his shows more than anyone. what happens when their yearly meet ups turns into a passionate affair where he can no longer bare to leave her to travel through the kingdoms and she no longer can live with being a part-time lover.

VERNON - vernon, half-brother to prince hoshi of the kingdom of elysian soughts out the kingdoms witch in search of a cure for his dying brother. what happens when vernon gets more than what he wishes for when he finds comfort within the lone witches presence

DINO - dino, the brother of prince joshua of the kingdom of polaris, finally gets to prove to the kingdom that he is just as good as his brother when he gets betrothed to the most south out woman in court. however, what happens when he begins to wonder why he anticipates talking to his baker friend, sister of mingyu, rather than with his fiance.

comment which one you’re looking most forward to / want me to start writing first! if you want to be added to the taglist just leave a comment asking <3

[cheekyquokka]

I’m not familiar with the group but I just wanna say I’m so sorry for the fans and even more so his family, friends and members. I also wanna say, do not feel silly if you are upset. You are allowed to grieve people that you don’t know personally. Whenever stuff like this happens, there are shitty people who go out of their way to try and make people feel stupid for reacting. Ignore them. Again, you are allowed to grieve for people you don’t know personally, there’s nothing silly about that.

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Officially dub con but off the book I think the consent is pretty explicit, again just tagging it so because it is an intense series

General Warnings for the Series:

Porn with Plot, frat boy!Jeonghan, college student!y/n, best friend!Jeongyeon, soft!dom to hard!dom Jeonghan, mean!Jeonghan (and y/n loves it), submissive!y/n, female!y/n (sorry gender-neutral friends), heavy degradation, light masochist!y/n, sadist!Jeonghan, mild pain kink, vaginal fingering, cunnulingus, creampie, spitting, slapping, spitting, mentions of safe words but they’re never used, big dick!Jeonghan, blowjob, slight public play, phone sex, y/n has a humiliation kink, mentions of aftercare but I don’t write it happening he just says what he’ll do

Works:

Pathetic (M)

“When your best friend Jeongyeon drags you to a frat party, you aren’t expecting much. Certainly not to be fucked dumb by notorious man whore Yoon Jeonghan, but hey, what happens at a frat party, stays at a frat party."

The Art of Humiliation (M)

“You go back to another Alpha Mu party in the hopes of maybe seeing Jeonghan again...”

Not a Friend (M)

“You think maybe sleeping with Jeonghan twice was a fluke- despite your last conversation with him, but when Jeongyeon mentions that he asked about you... You start thinking that maybe your relationship was more than you had originally thought it to be.”

Desired Intentions (M)

"Ironically enough after Jeonghan tells you that you can’t come over the next day you can’t stop thinking about him and it leads you to do to things that you wouldn’t normally do. But then again Jeonghan always ends up getting you to do things that you wouldn’t normally do without a second thought."

Love the Way You Lie (M)

"After finding out that Jeonghan has been lying y/n is thrown into a state of emotional turmoil. All the while, Jeonghan's actions leave her more and more confused by the day."

[knucklesdeepmingi]

I love her

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Love the Way You Lie (M)

This is the real part five to the Pathetic series

Summary:

After finding out that Jeonghan has been lying y/n is thrown into a state of emotional turmoil. All the while, Jeonghan's actions leave her more and more confused by the day.

Warning: Y/n is objectified a bit in a not-so-cute way by two people who aren't Jeonghan. Nothing really happens but just be warned.

Tags: 15k words, dub con for safety reasons, Porn with Plot, frat boy!Jeonghan, college student!y/n, best friend!Jeongyeon, soft!dom to hard!dom Jeonghan, mean!Jeonghan (and y/n loves it), submissive!y/n, female!y/n (sorry gender-neutral friends), heavy degradation, a lot of impact play in this one, masochist!y/n, sadist!Jeonghan, skull fucking, creampie, little bit of exhibitionism, little bit of cumplay, Jeonghan regains his aftercare crown

-

Part Five:

It turned out you were right. Thirteen boys couldn’t lie to you. Just one. You went to each and every boy in Alpha Mu. Random questions about random nights, and you realized that there was no reason for them to lie to you about this. They knew Jeonghan better than anyone other than you assumed his own family.

If Jeonghan was sleeping with other people and was willing to tell you about it than the others would know that. What they wouldn’t know was that Jeonghan would lie to you about sleeping with other people because that would be crazy.

You didn’t get it.

Why did he think that you would care about him sleeping with other people? You two weren’t exclusive. He had made that abundantly clear, and you had made it abundantly clear that you didn’t mind your arrangement.

You stared at your black television screen; your legs crossed on your couch. Your lips were pursed in thought but no matter how long you sat there it didn’t make any sense. Who the fuck would lie about that?

Thirty minutes into your silent pondering the front door opened. You didn’t look over, but you didn’t have to. Moments after the door closed you felt someone join you on the couch.

You and Jeongyeon were silent for a while.

“I...” Jeongyeon finally broke the silence. “I talked to Jimin.”

Your eyes widened and you looked over at her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon replied. For a scary moment she was silent, just staring at the television like you had before. Then the smallest hint of a smile crossed her lips. “We’re going on a date. A proper date!”

Jeongyeon squealed, covering her face with her hand.

“I literally can’t believe it!” She exclaimed. “I mean... After all these years, I never thought...”

She trailed off shaking her head.

“You know, it was killing me not to tell you about how I was beginning to feel about Jimin. When I realized that I was looking forward to waking up next to him-”

“I could tell you wanted a relationship,” you agreed softly. “But with Jimin? I’d never imagined it.”

“He’s so nice y/n. It started off slowly, at first it was disgruntled kicking me out, both of us completely disgusted by what we had just done but as it kept happening... I looked forward to it. He started being nicer, gentler... I was happy to wake up next to him.”

You were happy for Jeongyeon- You really were, but as she was talking you were beginning to realize something. Your eyebrows furrowed uncertainly, and Jeongyeon seemed to notice. She frowned.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. Your eyes trailed down to your lap.

“I’m just... Confused.”

Jeongyeon reached forward, her hands taking yours.

“What about?” She prodded.

“Jeonghan.... Lied to me about sleeping with other girls.”

Pity crossed Jeongyeon’s eyes, and she squeezed your hands.

“Hey, look he isn’t worth shit if he’s going to cheat on you.”

“That’s the thing!” You emphasized. “We agreed that he could sleep with other people, remember? That never changed between us. I don’t care if he sleeps with other people. We’re fuck buddies! That’s what fuck buddies do when they aren’t exclusive.”

“Then why did he feel the need to lie to you?” Jeongyeon asked, her confusion matching your own.

“You don’t even understand yet- He didn’t lie telling me he wasn’t sleeping with other girls. He lied telling me he was sleeping with other girls.”

Jeongyeon pulled her hands away from yours, her mouth slightly ajar and her eyebrows scrunched together.

“What?” She blurted out.

“See, Yeongtae and I were talking, and he pointed out that Jeonghan is really possessive of me. Which I had noticed, and you know...”

“Hot,” Jeongyeon agreed. “That’s part of why I fell for Jimin. Another guy was flirting with me at a party and... Well...”

You nodded.

“Right, so he pointed out that he’s possessive but I kinda just thought it was a bit. Foreplay.” You paused. “And hatred for Yeongtae, of course.”

“Of course,” Jeongyeon agreed.

“But the longer I think about it. We don’t really act like fuck buddies.”

“How do you mean?” Jeongyeon asked.

“Like... I stay and eat breakfast with him, and the other Alpha Mu boys and he always makes sure I stay the night. Gives me better aftercare than anyone I’ve ever been with before. I helped him build a lego set the other day. That’s just. Friend behavior.”

“Friends with benefits behavior,” Jeongyeon pipped up. “But non-exclusive friends with benefits.”

“Right. Except that now I come to find out we are exclusive.”

You shook your head.

“Soonyoung told me that Jeonghan hasn’t slept with anyone since the second time that we fucked.”

“You don’t think... That he has feelings for you, do you?”

“I didn’t!” You insisted. “But now...?”

“The man who doesn’t sleep with anyone twice,” Jeongyeon said, her voice airy. “I mean if he actually is into you. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know!” You replied. “I mean... He’s Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Yeah...” Jeongyeon agreed, a small cocky smile crossing her lips. “But he’s Yoon Jeonghan. Everyone is practically begging to date him. And if he’s willing to settle down for you? You’d be dumb not too.”

“You think?” You asked, your eyes looking away from her.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And he’s really nice to you. He clearly cares for you in a way. Even if it isn’t actually those feelings yet.”

“This is stupid,” you said, immediately waving away the thought. “Now, I can’t explain Jeonghan’s behavior but there’s no way that he actually likes me.” You needed a conversation change. “Let’s focus on what we do know. You and Jimin!”

The smile grew back on Jeongyeon’s face.

“I hope that you can skip your morning class tomorrow because I could talk about this all night!” She exclaimed excitedly.

A smile cracked across your face.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

-

“No y/n today?”

Jeonghan glanced up from his phone while he walked into the kitchen, finding only Seungcheol standing there, leaning against the counter.

“Hm? No.”

“Weird. She hasn’t been over in a few days. Have you been seeing her?”

“She’s busy,” Jeonghan replied. “Studying with Yeongtae.”

A small crack echoed through the small room. Both Jeonghan and Seungcheol looked at the now broken wooden chopstick in Jeonghan’s hand. He cleared his throat, setting the pieces on the table.

“Besides, we don’t need to hang out all the time. That’s not really what our relationship is.”

“Right,” Seungcheol said. He let silence fall between the two for a little bit and then: “You know, y/n called me the other night.”

Jeonghan perked up at the information, but it wasn’t in excitement.

“What? Why?”

“She asked me about what girls you were sleeping with.”

Jeonghan looked away from Seungcheol, cursing under his breath and burying his face in his hands.

“Fuck, why would she-” He groaned loudly. “And let me guess-”

“Why does she think that you are fucking other people? Aren’t you exclusive?”

“Technically, it’s one-sided. She’s made it very clear that she had agreed to not sleep with other people, but I was free to.”

Seungcheol’s confusion didn’t have to be outwardly expressed. Jeonghan could feel it.

“Who would-” He shook his head. “I’ve got to stop questioning the things that y/n lets you do to her. Just... So why would she care if you were sleeping with other people if she agreed to those terms?”

“Maybe because...” Jeonghan cleared his throat uncertainly, risking a look at his friend. “Perhaps I told her I was sleeping with other people.”

Seungcheol gave Jeonghan a blank stare.

“But you’re not.”

Jeonghan nodded.

“But I’m not.”

Seungcheol stared at Jeonghan silently, and then, after a few moments turned away from him, placing both of his hands on the kitchen counter and sighing heavily.

He began to mutter under his breath, but it wasn’t quiet enough for Jeonghan not to make out the: “How am I the one that is single in this house? I’m the only one with fucking-”

Seungcheol turned back around, forcing a smile on his lips.

“Why would you lie to y/n and tell her that you are sleeping with other people?”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why does it matter?” Jeonghan demanded. “I’m allowed to lie to her if I want to. It’s a harmless lie.”

“It’s still a lie.”

Jeonghan exhaled loudly out of his nose.

“What does it matter?”

“Jeonghan, where do you see this thing with y/n going?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Jeonghan said.

Seungcheol walked over to the table, pulling out the chair next to Jeonghan and sitting in it. He fixed Jeonghan under a stern gaze.

“Do you like y/n?”

Jeonghan scoffed at first, his eyes turning away from Seungcheol.

“Do I like y/n? Jesus Seungcheol, do you know me at all?” He looked back at Seungcheol. “I’m Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol agreed. “Yoon Jeonghan who fucks everything that walks and unabashedly kicks them out every morning. Yoon Jeonghan who does not fuck anyone twice- Hell you barely interact with the people you’ve fucked before.”

Before Jeonghan could say anything Seungcheol continued:

“And then you sleep with y/n. You sleep with... What? Two girls after her and then it’s back to her. You’re so bipolar about this! The first night you slept with her you were definitely open to fucking her again, and then you got all aloof and then you slept with her a second time and all of a sudden you are saying we should get used to her-”

“That’s-”

“I’m not finished,” Seungcheol interrupted. “Don’t even get me started on your borderline obsession with Yeongtae. You think I don’t notice you asking about him to anyone who will listen? Your phone is open to his instragram page right now!”

“He’s a weird guy!” Jeonghan protested.

“You are jealous,” Seungcheol said. “You are jealous, and you miss her when she doesn’t come to parties, and you even let her mess with legos with you. You practically beg her to stay every morning.”

“What are you trying to say?” Jeonghan asked angrily, not afraid to express that this conversation was not one he wanted to be a part of. Seungcheol, however, was not fazed by his murderous tone.

“Just admit it!” Seungcheol replied. “I don’t have to tell you your feelings. You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I have nothing to admit.” The two of them were screaming at one another now. The top of their lungs, neither of them backing down.

“If y/n were to call you right now and tell you she was dating Yeongtae and wanted to cut things off, what would you do?”

“Nothing! We aren’t dating. She’s allowed to do what she wants. If she wants to date Yeongtae she can.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

“You love y/n,” Seungcheol accused. “You love her and that’s why you hate when she hangs out with Yeongtae because while you two connect on a sexual level you are worried that you two won’t connect on a personal level, and Yeongtae and her do and you think that she’s going to leave you for him.”

“Shut up.”

“And if you keep this up? She will leave you,” Seungcheol said. “Are you really going to just let her slip away?”

“She’s not going to slip away!” Jeonghan hissed, slamming his hands down on the table. “You want the truth? Yes, I fucking love her. And I am jealous of her and Yeongtae. Why doesn’t she spend that time with me? I practically have to force her to have breakfast with us every day! She always has something else to do. I’m fucking Yoon Jeonghan why doesn’t she want me?”

Silence fell between the two, both of their chests heaving. They both stared at each other. Seungcheol looking pleased but also distressed for Jeonghan. As the two stood there, someone cleared their throat. Both boys turned to see that Seokmin was walking into the kitchen.

“What was that?” Seokmin asked. “Oh, yeah, my favorite way to wake up in the morning is to you two screaming about Jeonghan’s obvious feelings for y/n.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, and briskly scooted back his chair back, the sound screeching throughout the house.

“Fuck off.”

Jeonghan stormed out of the kitchen, brushing past Minghao as he walked.

“Good morning to you too,” he said softly.

Jeonghan completely ignored him.

“I’m going to get some air.”

And just like that, he stormed out of the house.

-

You were startled away from your homework by a sudden knock at your door. Your eyebrows furrowed and you glanced at your phone. It was early. Jeongyeon was at class. You weren’t expecting Yeongtae today.

You cracked open your door, and standing in the hall, red in the face and breathless was Jeonghan. Your eyes widened.

“Jeonghan-”

“Did you even check before opening the door? Anyone could have been out here.”

“I-”

Jeonghan raised his hand in front of your face.

“I’m not going to lie to you right now: I am fucking furious,” Jeonghan said. “I know it’s early, and we haven’t seen each other in a few days but this is your first chance to back out. What is our safe word?”

You were surprised but... Always down to be fucked by Jeonghan. You were quick to say your safe word, taking a step back into the room and pushing the door slightly open for Jeonghan. His jaw clenched at the clear invitation.

“If I come into that apartment-”

“Do whatever you want to,” you replied. You pushed aside the uncertainty in the pit of your stomach, completely ignoring the part of you that was desperate to know why Jeonghan had lied to you about sleeping with other girls. “I’m yours.”

Jeonghan was in the room with the door closed behind him in a blink of an eye. He locked the door and began to rip his shirt off of his body. You were momentarily distracted... God, Jeonghan was like a walking fucking Adonis but you were snapped back to reality by Jeonghan saying: “Don’t just fucking stand there. Get your clothes off.”

You quickly locked the door behind you and began to strip yourself of your clothes but you weren’t fast enough. Jeonghan pushed you roughly against the wall and dragged your shirt off of you. As soon as it was tossed aside his lips were pressed to yours.

Jeonghan’s hands were quick to unfasten your bra, and you let it fall off of your shoulders and onto the ground between you two. Jeonghan pulled away from you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“You remembered what I told you? That day in the bathroom?” He asked. You didn’t need him to elaborate.

“You said you’d remind me of how depraved I was,” you replied breathlessly. Jeonghan’s lips flickered into a smile.

“That’s one thing about you,” he murmured. “You are a good listener.”

He stepped away from you and as he walked back his eyes trailed over your body. You swallowed hard.

“Crawl,” Jeonghan said. It snapped your attention back to Jeonghan, your eyelids fluttering.

“What?”

“I said to crawl,” Jeonghan repeated. Your mouth fell open and you quickly dropped down to your hands and knees. Your face blazed in embarrassment as you began to crawl towards Jeonghan but it just made Jeonghan laugh, his head tilting to the side in what seemed to be adoration. “So good for me.”

When you got to his feet, he kneeled down in front of you, placing a single finger to your forehead.

“Have you been good recently?” He asked you. It felt like a trick question, and you had no clue what the answer was.

“… Yes?”

He slapped you, making you gasp in surprise. He stood up and began to walk backwards again.

“Crawl.”

You did as you were told, and as you followed him, he started to talk again.

“You haven’t been good recently. You know why?”

You shook your head quickly. He scoffed.

“Because I had to fuck you twice in two separate bathrooms,” Jeonghan replied, his voice sharp. “You haven’t been over, you haven’t invited me over and I had to settle for fucking you in bathrooms.”

He turned around.

“Where’s your room?” He asked. You cleared your throat.

“It’s uh, the last door on the right.”

Without another word Jeonghan walked down the hallway, disappearing into your room. You stayed there for a second, on your hands and knees, wondering what he wanted you to do. You decided to just keep crawling.

That ended up being the right decision. When you got to your room Jeonghan was sitting on your bed, his legs spread and his head rested on his arm. He looked annoyed.

“Taking your fucking time, aren’t you?” He mumbled.

“Sorry,” you murmured. You crawled all the way up to him, settling yourself between his legs. Once you had sat back on your feet Jeonghan’s hand was on your chin.

“Open your mouth,” he said. You opened it and he suddenly stuck two of his fingers in your mouth. Surprised by the action you gagged, your head dropping forward. Jeonghan chided you softly.

“If you can’t even handle my fingers, how could you possibly handle my cock?” he asked you, his voice high and mocking. Your eyes widened at the tone, his words going straight to your core.

“I can handle-“ You were interrupted by a slap, and this time Jeonghan grabbed your chin with it. He looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I didn’t say you could talk now did I?” He asked. You shook your head obediently. His lips curled up into a smile. “There’s my good girl.”

He turned his eyes away from yours as he went to rummage through his things. You frowned, unsure of what he was doing, but you were glad he looked away because your face was burning red at the compliment.

It was ridiculous how much a tiny bit of praise could really send you over the top when it came from Jeonghan.

“I want to propose something,” Jeonghan said. Your eyes darted to where he had just grabbed something. He flashed a camera at you.

“How do you feel about being a star?”

Realization flooded your body as you realized what he was asking. Your mind raced to come up with an answer. This wouldn’t be the most public thing that you would be letting Jeonghan do, but it would be the most permanent thing you let him do.

You had never before let a fling take a video of you or a picture of you in any intimate way. At least, not since you were able to make rational decisions and remembered that you really had to trust someone before sending them those kinds of pictures of yourself.

Your hesitance wasn’t missed in Jeonghan. He nodded and started to put his phone away.

“That’s okay you don’t need to-” You reached out suddenly, grabbing his wrist. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden touch. You quickly searched his eyes, your mind running fast to figure out what you wanted to say.

“No, I just had to think about it for a second,” you replied. “I trust you. Go ahead.”

You let go of his wrist.

“Why do you want it anyway?” You asked, your tone lightly. He searched your eyes for a second, and then tilted his head, raising the phone camera to his face.

“I want you to see what you look like when you’re groveling at my feet,” Jeonghan replied, his voice low. “You’ll see what a good little slut you are.”

As Jeonghan spoke one of his hands left his phone and he buried his fingers in your hair.

“What do you do when you want me to stop?” Your eyes had drifted to Jeonghan’s dick, your mouth, embarrassingly enough drooling at the sight of it. It had been such a long time since he had decided to use your mouth. “Y/n.”

He tugged your head up sharply, and your eyes darted up. You quickly thought back on his words while you had been distracted and raised your hand to his thigh, tapping it twice. You gave him an apologetic expression, but his expression didn’t change.

“You’ve been bad about listening to me recently,” he commented lightly. “You’re so used to reward, and so spoiled that you think you can act up.”

You wanted to argue with him but as soon as your eyes fluttered back down he was tugging your head up more.

“Keep your eyes on the camera,” he said sternly. “Now tell the camera: Have you been spoiled recently?”

Your eyes peered into the camera lens, your face surely dark from a combination of anticipation, lust, and slight embarrassment.

“I’ve been spoiled,” you agreed. Jeonghan hummed.

“You started taking my dick for granted, didn’t you?” You nodded your agreement, fighting the urge to look at Jeonghan. “You’re going to have to earn your orgasm today.”

You couldn’t help it, your eyes shot to Jeonghan in surprise, and as soon as they did you felt yourself get hit in the face. This time it wasn’t by his hands. Your eyes widened further when you realized that his hand had left your hair and was now wrapped around the base of his cock.

Heat rushed through your body when you realized that he had hit you with his cock.

Your eyes darted back to the camera.

“I’m sorry,” you said, you glanced back at Jeonghan. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be good.” And then your eyes returned to the camera.

A hum left Jeonghan’s mouth, but he didn’t dwell too much on the fact that you were having trouble listening. Deep in the back of your mind you thought that Jeonghan couldn’t blame you for being so distracted. You wanted to be good but how could you be good when it had been so long since Jeonghan had touched you like this?

As these thoughts ran through your mind, Jeonghan’s hand returned back to your hair.

“Mouth open,” he commanded. Your mouth dropped open and Jeonghan quickly pushed your head down on his cock. You choked a little at the sudden intrusion, feeling your gag reflex go off even as you tried to push away the feeling. Jeonghan scoffed.

“You can’t even take my dick the way you usually can,” he chided. “You are usually so good at not choking, is it too big for you love?”

Your face burned as you focused hard on breathing through your nose. You made sure to keep your eyes on the camera, feeling ease fall over you when you stopped feeling the need to gag after each and every thrust.

The longer Jeonghan forced your head up and down the length of his cock, the more his taunting tone turned airy. He stopped talking in favor of moans tumbling from his mouth, but his relentlessness did not end. He began to essentially fuck your face faster and faster the longer that he went.

“Your mouth is so wet and hot,” Jeonghan said gruffly. Your eyes flitted towards him only to find that his eyes were shut in pleasure. “It’s almost as good as your pussy.”

He moaned at the mere mention of your pussy.

“I’m not interested in foreplay today; I need to fucking destroy you. You better get yourself ready.”

Your eyes shot back to the camera, realizing that you probably did not have much time to get yourself ready. Your hand lowered to your pussy, which was, of course, dripping wet. You pushed two of your fingers right into yourself with ease, wasting no time in matching Jeonghan’s pace.

It was getting a lot harder to keep your focus on the camera as Jeonghan started to move your head up and down faster on his cock. You could feel his cock twitch inside of your mouth, and by the way that his fingers were tightening their grip in your hair you knew that Jeonghan was getting close to having his first orgasm of the night. You pushed a third finger into yourself quickly, ignoring the burn as you began to also suck on his cock more, hoping to bring him closer, faster, like you thought he wanted.

“I’m going to cum in your perfect little mouth, and I want you to capture all of the cum. I better not see a single drop spilled.”

You moaned around Jeonghan’s cock, excitement buzzing through your body as Jeonghan got closer to his orgasm. You only had to wait a few more pumps before Jeonghan’s cum started to fill your mouth. He pulled his cock out enough so that it was really just his tip in your mouth as he began to come.

“Don’t swallow it either.”

His hand left your hair, and then suddenly he pulled himself out of your mouth. You opened your mouth to protest but then a little bit of cum dripped from your mouth and you slammed it shut. Jeonghan didn’t seem to be bothered. He instead gave his cock a few pumps as he painted your face with the rest of his cum, and once he had finally stopped you got slapped hard.

“Didn’t I tell you not to get any cum on your face?” He snapped. Your eyes shot to his in apology but that apparently wasn’t the right move either. “And you’re not even looking at the camera.”

Your eyes shot back to the camera just in time for Jeonghan’s fingers to bury in your hair again and he forced your head back.

“Say thank you for the cum with it still in your mouth,” he commanded. You were quick to comply.

“Thank you for the cum,” you said.

“Louder.”

“Thank you for the cum,” you repeated, much louder this time. Jeonghan hummed, looking at you from behind the camera screen. After a few seconds of just staring at you he set the phone aside and pulled you up by the strands of your hair. He pushed you onto the bed, your ass sticking out over the edge and grabbed you by the hips to pull you up against his pelvis, pushing his cock into you without warning.

You cried out in surprise and more cum dripped out of your mouth, so you slammed your hand over it, feeling your already wet fingers smear his cum over your cheeks.

Jeonghan snickered.

“Trying so hard to be good now aren’t you?” He asked. “You scared you’re going to lose your orgasm?”

Jeonghan pushed deep into you, hard again without warning, jostling your whole body and making you fall awkwardly on your face. You quickly tried to steady yourself but then he pushed into you hard again and you found yourself back in the same position.

Jeonghan seemed to be annoyed by how you were jostling because he made a sound that resembled  that of a growl and pushed your head down into the comforter.

“Stop moving.”

Now that you were steady under Jeonghan he began to really lose control. You hadn’t thought it was possible for Jeonghan to fuck you any harder than he had in the past but you had been ridiculously wrong. With each thrust you were fighting screaming, the only thing keeping you any semblance of quiet being the fact that he hadn’t told you yet that you could swallow the cum you were still holding in your mouth.

Jeonghan was bouncing your entire body with his thrust, your bed creaking with each movement. After a while of literally pounding you his hand left your head, and he grabbed you by your forearms. You were lifted off of the bed, your back arched as Jeonghan fucked himself even deeper inside of you.

“I want to hear you,” he snapped gruffly. You didn’t have to be told more than once. You opened your mouth, both loud moans and cum coming out of it as you did so. You ignored as the cum and spit soaked your chin, dripping down your body and onto the bed.

Jeonghan didn’t pay much mind to it at all either. In fact, his hands quickly switched their position so that he was holding you up by your throat.

His hands were cutting off your air circulation just enough that it was making pleasure swirl even more aggressively in your head.

Without any warning at all, you suddenly felt Jeonghan begin to come deep inside of you, his hips stuttering a little as he began to unload himself in you.

“Fuck, thank you Jeonghan. Thank you,” you cried out, earning yourself a slap.

“Shut up,” Jeonghan mumbled, but you could hear the smile in his voice as he said it.

You felt your own orgasm starting to come up but you desperately fought against it, recognizing that Jeonghan had not told you that you could cum yet.

Jeonghan didn’t stop fucking you even after he had finished coming inside of you. Instead, he briefly pulled out of you to flip you onto your back, and pushed right back into you. His cock somehow already hard again as he began to drill into you from there.

“Do you want to cum?” He asked you. You pressed your lips together and nodded eagerly. He hummed, his thumb running over your cum and spit-soaked chin. “Do you think you’ve earned it?”

Your body was burning, and him talking to you like this wasn’t making it any easier to hold off your orgasm, but regardless you had to be honest.

“No,” you admitted. “But I’ve been better than others haven’t I? I always take your cock just the way you want it, and I’m so good at taking your cum.”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

“You like being my little cum dumpster? You like it when I fuck my cum deep inside of you?”

“Yes Jeonghan, fuck yes. I need it, I need your cum so badly,” you agreed, your tone getting lighter, more desperate. “I need you so badly Jeonghan, all the time. I want you to use me more.”

“Yeah? You like this way too much for the average person,” he chided. His fingers pinched at the corners of your mouth, forcing your jaw open. He spit in your mouth and then let go. You swallowed it without a second thought.

“Thank you,” you blurted out. Jeonghan’s head fell to the side.

“For what?” He asked, but as he did he lowered his hands to your waist, forcing himself into you faster.

“For everything,” you cried out. “For fucking me, for coming in me, for coming on me. For all of it. For your spit. Thank you.”

 Jeonghan’s hips stuttered against you.

“Fuck, y/n,” he said, sounding absolutely wrecked. Suddenly he wrapped one of his arms around you, lifting you off the bed a bit so that he could bury his face in your neck while he fucked you. You felt him bite down on your neck, sucking a hickey into it just as his other hand pressed down on your clit.

“You can come you little slut. Come on my cock like a good girl.”

You didn’t have to be told more. You felt tears of relief began to roll down your cheeks as you finally let yourself come, your thighs shaking as Jeonghan came right after you. His thrusts not stopping until you felt so full that you thought you might explode.

Jeonghan held you in that position for a little while, his cock buried deep inside you as he busied himself marking up your neck again, but after a few minutes he flipped you both over, sliding his cock out of you.

Your chest heaved against Jeonghan’s and you buried your face in his chest in pure exhaustion. You heard him sigh, his fingers making their way into your hair. He combed through it gently.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost couldn’t hear him. You looked up at him, confusion riddled over your clearly messy and red face. A flicker of a smile crossed Jeonghan’s lips at his handiwork, but it was replaced quickly by a solemn look that matched his apology.

“For what?” You asked. “You heard me thank you for everything earlier.”

You laughed softly and pressed your head back against his hand.

“You know I like it just as much as you do.”

“It’s not that,” Jeonghan replied. He looked troubled, and serious. “I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you... I shouldn’t do that. I won’t make a habit of it.”

“I don’t personally mind,” you commented with a shrug. “Take your anger out on me all you want if it makes you feel better.”

Jeonghan was still staring at you.

“Did it make you feel better?”

Jeonghan sighed, finally his eyes flickering away from you.

“I think it made it worse.”

You wanted to scream at Jeonghan. Mostly for being confusing. You were thinking of how to bring up the fact you knew he was lying about sleeping with other girls but every communication technique that you could use just fell flat in your mind. Start, stop, continue... NVC?

I feel confused because you told me you were sleeping with other people when you weren’t and I would like to talk to you about why you felt like you had to do that.

Not only were you not sure if that was formed right, but it would also be stupid to bring up in any normal context.

… Stupid Micah Salaberrios...

So instead of using your engrained knowledge of healthy proper communication you fell back on the easier option.

“You’ve never been in my place before. Do you like it?”

Jeonghan hummed and pulled away from you, sitting up. You whined as you fell into your comforter which made Jeonghan laugh. His fingers tightened in your hair again and he dragged you up with him.

“Dick...” You mumbled. Jeonghan snorted and you propped yourself up in your bed.

“You certainly have a lot of posters of men on your walls,” he observed, gesturing to the kpop posters you had scattered across your room. It just amused you.

“Jealous?”

“Hardly. I doubt you would be groveling on your knees for them, begging to be hit and used like a pretty little fuck toy.”

Your face reddened a bit.

“You would be surprised. I don’t know if I would be able to choose if my choices lied between you and Taeyoung.”

Jeonghan clearly didn’t like where the conversation was going as he gave you a stern look.

“You really want me to put you in your place all over again? Remind you what your only real use is?” He demanded.

You swallowed, surprised (and disappointed) by his lack of physical touch to match the threat. You kind of did want him to put you in your place all over again.

“No,” you mumbled. It was small. You clearly wanted more but Jeonghan played dumb. He patted your head.

“Where’s your shower?”

There he was again. That gentle Jeonghan that came after being railed and treated like you were nothing at all.

“Down the hall. On the left.”

Jeonghan stood up, stretch as soon as he was out of your bed and then scooped down to pick you up. You yelped in surprise but were in zero shape to fight back.

“I don’t always have to shower right after we fuck,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. You couldn’t help an intrusive thought from escaping as well: “Why do you care so much about after care anyways?”

Jeonghan scoffed, and it vibrated through his body.

“What kind of emotional damage would I be leaving on you if I called you worthless and hit you and then just… left?”

You shrugged.

“What does it matter?” You asked. “I’m just a fuck toy.”

Jeonghan paused at the statement, his face scrunching in concentration for a moment. He looked like he really wanted to address your words but for some reason couldn’t figure out a way to. You didn’t understand why those choice words were bothering him. Even if he wasn’t sleeping with other people, they were objectively true.

“You’re not just a fuck toy,” Jeonghan finally said. “You are my fuck toy, but that’s not all you are.”

You opened your mouth to negate Jeonghan’s statement but before you could he was talking again.

“I’m going to start your shower.”

If his purpose was to derail the conversation by causing you additional frustration he had done the perfect job. You groaned, successfully rolling out of Jeonghan’s arms and back on your bed. You buried your face in your bed sheets. He didn’t seem put off by your show.

“I’ll shower first but you have to shower too,” he stated. “I don’t know why you are such a brat about showers. You’re so obedient for me otherwise.”

You waited for him to say more but when he didn’t you sat up and found that he wasn’t there anymore. You sighed. How unproductive.

Your mind turned to Jeonghan in the shower, and you realized that you didn’t actually have anything for him to wear. You knew that your clothes wouldn’t fit him so you raced to come up with anything else and then remembered that you had some clothes that one of your old flings had left once before.

You got out of bed and walked over to your closet, getting on top of a chair so that you could grab them from the top corner.

You gave them a test sniff, and found that they just smelled like your laundry detergent.

Along with those, you walked over to the hallway closet grabbing a fresh towel.

True to his word Jeonghan was still in the shower when you pushed into the bathroom.

“I brought you a towel,” you mumbled. “And some clothes.”

Jeonghan peeked around the shower curtain, frowning.

“I don’t think I’ll fit into your clothes love,” he stated. Your heart fluttered at his words. Love.

“They’re men’s clothes,” you replied. “I think they’ll fit you. You’re about the same height as…” Suddenly your thoughts turned to the other day at the library. Your lips pressed together. “Uh-”

At first Jeonghan just looked confused, but that confusion faded into understanding when he realized what you had been about to say. His head tilted and his expression became harder.

“About the same height as who?” He pressed. You kept your lips pressed together, unwilling to say a word. You just shook your head. He pushed aside the shower curtain and took the clothes from your hands tossing them on the floor.

Before you had come in here you had put a shirt on so that you weren’t walking around completely naked, but Jeonghan wrapped his arm around you, dipping under the shirt and coming down hard on your ass. You yelped and he pulled you close to him, the water from the shower coming off of him and onto your shirt.

“Whose clothes are on the floor of your bathroom y/n?” Jeonghan asked you. Your lips pressed together and again just shook your head. He slapped your ass again: “It’s not like you to be bad. You must be really scared.”

There was a hint of amusement in his voice. You cleared your throat.

“They’re just a friends-” Jeonghan hit your ass again. “Okay, it was a flings’. But it’s been months since I’ve even talked to him.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrow rose slightly.

“Then why are you so nervous?” He mumbled. Your eyes flickered to his.

“You have a bit of a jealous streak.”

Jeonghan laughed and looked like he wanted to negate what you said but before he could you flicked your head in the direction of the discarded clothes. He pressed his lips together.

“Okay… Maybe you have a point,” he relinquished. He looked back at you and shrugged. “Thanks for the clothes. Your turn.”

-

When you got out of the shower, you found Jeonghan in your kitchen in the clothes you had left for him. He looked annoyed and you didn’t have to look at him long to figure out why. He looked at you.

“Why do you even still have these?” He asked you. He pulled at the collar of his shirt in aggravation.

“I thought maybe Yujun would want them back.”

Jeonghan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Does it still smell like him?” He asked. “Don’t men’s clothes smell like them for a really long time?”

“Jeonghan don’t be stupid-”

“You can keep the clothes I wore over here,” he interrupted you. He gestured to what he was currently wearing. “I’m burning this.”

You rolled your eyes, but honestly, you thought it was a little cute. Even if this just made you even more confused on what Jeonghan saw you as. You wandered over to the kitchen island, taking a seat at one of the chairs. You rested your head on your hand.

“What are you doing in my kitchen anyways?” You asked. Jeonghan hummed.

“I thought it was about time you tried my cooking.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise.

“What?” You asked. Jeonghan walked over to your pantry, pulling out a box of pasta. He looked at the box.

“I love pasta,” he mumbled, but it seemed like it was mostly to himself. He set the box on the counter and then looked in your fridge. He paused for a second as he looked at the contents. He then reached in and grabbed out a few things. Spinach, heavy cream, milk, cheese. You were surprised you had so many fresh ingredients.

He closed the fridge door behind him. You frowned slightly.

“Have you ever made pasta before?” You asked, your mind flickering to the fact that Jeonghan had evaded answering if he was a good cook or not. You thought that if someone were good as cooking they would brag about it. Like Mingyu did everytime you were over.

“I’ve seen Mingyu make pasta before,” Jeonghan replied, focused on getting out the things he needed for the dish. “How hard can it be?”

You had never seen anyone mess up anything as bad as Jeonghan messed up cooking pasta. You watched as he didn’t stir the pasta as it boiled, he burned the milk by turning the heat up too high, and on top of all that he set one of your kitchen towels on fire.

To be completely fair, you were pretty sure that the Alpha Mu house had electric stoves, not gas ones but regardless, it wasn’t what you had expected at all when he first started measuring out the ingredients to make the pasta sauce.

“When you said that I would find out if you were good at cooking or not-”

Jeonghan shut you up by lightly putting his hand in your face and pushing you to the side. You stumbled a little and shot him a glare.

“Hey! You about burned my apartment down!” You protested. Jeonghan had taken a seat at your kitchen island while you started to clean up after him. He had the audacity to be sitting there with a sad look on his face. As if something you had done was the reason that he couldn’t eat.

“I just wanted pasta,” he replied, his head rested on his arms that were on the counter.

“If you were that bad at cooking why didn’t you just ask me to make you something?” You demanded. Jeonghan still held that pathetic look on his face, as if he was a child being scolded.

“Do you know how to make pasta?” He asked you. You huffed loudly out of your mouth.

“You’re so weird Jeonghan,” you mumbled. “Of course, I know how to make pasta. All you have to do is boil some water and heat some milk and heavy whipping cream.”

You put the lid on your pot as you dumped the water out of the overcooked pasta.

“It’s not really aftercare if you do the cooking,” Jeonghan continued, that whine still in his voice. You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not true. Maybe it’s aftercare from me to you,” you replied. “You make me shower. I’ll cook you food.”

Jeonghan was silent for so long that it worried you. You dumped the pasta out into your trash can and then looked up at him. He was watching you closely, the pout that had been on his face was gone now. When he realized that you were looking at him, he let his eyes flutter closed.

“Okay, cook for me then,” he said. There was something weird in his voice, your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to figure out what it was. You stood there for only a few seconds before you gave up.

How could you expect yourself to understand the tone of his voice when you didn’t even understand why he had lied to you about sleeping with other girls?

You turned your attention back to the stove, cleaning the pots as you needed them. The silence between you and Jeonghan was weird, so you found yourself glancing back at him a lot to see if he was asleep or not. Each time you looked back at him you found his eyes were fluttering shut.

It was like he was a child. He was quite literally pretending to be asleep when in reality he was watching you cook.

You couldn’t help but feel a little irritated.

“What have you been doing the last few days anyways?” You mumbled as you mixed some cheese into the sauce you were making. “Or I guess the question is who have you been doing?”

It was a trap really. Was it fair for you to trap a boy in a lie who didn’t even know you knew he was lying?

“I thought you didn’t get jealous unless it was Chaedom?” Jeonghan asked. You rolled your eyes and looked back at him. Again, his eyes fluttered shut as if he hadn’t been watching you at all.

“I’m not jealous,” you replied, but the bite in your voice said otherwise. “I’m just wondering that’s all.”

“I don’t need to tell you about that kind of stuff,” Jeonghan responded. “Why do you even care?”

You couldn’t answer that.

“I don’t,” you replied. “It’s just interesting to be fucking around with someone who is so openly fucking other people.”

You heard Jeonghan moving, but you kept your focus on the stove. You sort of expected him to have left the room but then all of a sudden his arms wrapped around your chest and Jeonghan buried his face into the back of your neck. You made a small noise in protest to the sudden affection.

“I’m tired,” Jeonghan complained. “You’re taking too long to cook.”

You wanted to be annoyed but having Jeonghan at such a close proximity made your heart flutter. Against your better judgement you let your head loll back against his a little.

“Cooking takes time,” you mumbled back. Jeonghan made a soft noise of complaint, but he didn’t say more.

God, you really didn’t get Jeonghan sometimes and it was almost as if the more you got to know him the more confusing he got. The way that he was holding you it was almost as if...

God, you didn’t want to think those things. You couldn’t stand to be any more delusional than you already were being.

Why was Jeonghan lying to you? It had to be a manipulation tactic. Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he had tired of fucking other people but he wanted to keep you at a distance.

Or maybe he just thrived on your confusion. Maybe he just wanted to see how far you would let him go with things. Maybe he wanted to hurt you, and this was the way he was going about it.

“Your thoughts are loud.”

Your eyes widened at Jeonghan’s words.

“Huh? What thoughts?” You asked. Jeonghan shifted his body.

“You’re overthinking us again, aren’t you?” He replied.

“I’m not-” You huffed out in aggravation. “What is there to overthink?”

Jeonghan turned so that his face was in yours.

“It’s natural to want to be close to someone in a relationship like ours,” Jeonghan said.

You stared at Jeonghan, a little lost for words with how close he was to you.

“A relationship like ours...?”

“We’re practically in a dom/sub relationship,” Jeonghan defined. “Just without a contract.”

Luckily the addition at the end seemed to remind yourself that this was Jeonghan you were talking to. He probably categorized dreams that he had about being in a real relationship with someone as a nightmare. You were being delusional getting stuck on things like him being clingy after sex and referring to you two as having a relationship.

He was right after all. You two did have a relationship. It just wasn’t a romantic one.

“What? Like in 50 Shades of Grey?” You asked, rolling your eyes. You batted Jeonghan away from you and took the pot off the stove to drain the noodles.

“I’m just saying, it’s not weird that I would want to hold you while you’re cooking. Or that you would want me close when we’re sleeping,” Jeonghan continued. You tried to come off as indifferent towards the conversation, honestly feeling a bit annoyed that he had been so easily able to tell that your mind was racing. “It’s better if I give you reassurance afterwards, whether it be physical or just emotional.”

Still ignoring Jeonghan you poured the pasta into your finished sauce, tossing the noodles around in it.

“And what about you?” You pondered, turning to look at Jeonghan. He was now leaning against your counter, just looking at you. “Don’t you need reassurance?”

“I am always getting reassurance from you,” Jeonghan replied bluntly. “Your confirmation that you know our safe word, the way that you let me tell you to do things even outside of the bedroom, even when you’re being a brat about after care-”

You looked away from him with an annoyed grunt as you went to get some bowls out of the pantry. You opened up a cabinet and got on your tip toes a little bit so that you could grab the bowls. Jeonghan stopped you, putting a hand over yours. You felt like you had to look at him.

“Your trust is reassurance to me. You have every chance to tell me no. You have every chance to tell me something is too much. You don’t have to put up with anything I do if you don’t want to,” Jeonghan said. He grabbed down two bowls, holding them out for you. “That’s my reassurance. It’s in your words and actions. You need the same reassurance from me.”

You pressed your lips together and took the bowls from Jeonghan. You looked away from him and started to scoop the pasta into the bowls. You cleared your throat, trying to shake the heavy feeling off of your shoulders.

“Why are you talking to me as if I’m not a Psych major?” You asked. “I understand the importance of reassurance.”

You turned around and pointed for Jeonghan to sit down. He did as he was told and you set the bowl of pasta in front of him, giving him a fork and a glass of water before sitting down next to him.

“Then why are you acting like it’s weird when I take steps to make sure you are reassured?” Jeonghan asked. Your eyes fluttered down to your food.

“We’re just fuck buddies Jeonghan,” you replied as if it was obvious. You risked a glance at him and immediately regretted it. Even though he had said early he was hungry, even though he had complained about being tired the only thing he was focused on was you. “I’ve had boyfriends who were less affectionate than you are.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened a little at your words.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked. You couldn’t keep looking at him, so you looked back at your food, poking at it as you waited for it to cool down.

“It’s just all this aftercare… I’m just not used to it.”

“How could you not be used to aftercare?” Jeonghan practically repeated the same question as before.

“My other partners never gave me aftercare,” you replied. “They would just… Fall asleep, or kick me out, or leave themselves. We didn’t do legos, or breakfast. They definitely didn’t start showers for me.”

Jeonghan was quiet, and honestly? His silence made you feel like your confession was worse than it was.

“It’s not like I need the reassurance. It’s kind of like you said. I find reassurance in other ways.”

“No,” Jeonghan said, his voice sharp. “I find reassurance directly in what you say and do. What you’re describing is the same as if I never even told you how good you are for me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Jeonghan you assure me that I’m good even in the middle of sex.”

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed. “But did they?”

Your lips pressed together firmly.

“I thought you didn’t like me talking about other men,” you finally said. Jeonghan pressed his hands on either sides of your chair and turned you so that you were facing him. He then raised a hand to your face, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“Y/n, you can’t be so nonchalant about these things,” he said, his voice hushed. “You’re smart, you know better than I do the effect that this kind of relationship could have on you if I didn’t force aftercare down your throat. I know it’s uncomfortable and it’s weird since we aren’t dating and you aren’t used to this but you do need it. You know you need it. I need you to admit that you need it.”

You didn’t want to admit that you needed aftercare. You didn’t want to admit that you needed Jeonghan’s reassurance. This was only more confusing knowing what you knew about Jeonghan. How could he be lying to you about sleeping with other people and in the same breath tell you that he knew how important it was to reassure you that you were good?

Again, his actions just didn’t make sense. If this was a manipulation technique it was a fucking weird one.

But then again, Jeonghan didn’t look like he was manipulating you. Getting to know him you couldn’t really see him as some sort of monster who was just trying to hurt you. Why would someone who was just aiming to see you cry put so much effort into making sure you understood that you were cared for?

It was moments like these where the delusions were so easy to believe. He knew you so well, and he clearly cared so much about you. You could tell in the way that he wasn’t just looking at you. His eyes were darting all over your face like he was reading every single part of you to completely understand you. Maybe Jeonghan not sleeping with other people was actually for you.

Maybe he cared about you so much that he just couldn’t imagine actually sleeping with other people.

But then again, these thoughts were all just that- Delusions.

“I…” You really hated that Jeonghan was right. “I do need it.”

A smile flickered across Jeonghan’s face.

“And there’s my reassurance,” he said softly. His fingers loosened their grip on you, and he raised a hand to your head. He patted you. “Now eat.”

You opened your mouth to say more, but it seemed like Jeonghan was done with the topic. He turned to the pasta and took a scoop of it. As soon as he put it in his mouth, he let out a pleasant hum.

“This is really good,” he commented. That seemed to kick you back into the moment. You turned yourself back towards your food and began to eat as well.

“Of course, it’s good,” you mumbled. “I made it.”

“I should come over more.”

The comment was probably meant to be off handed, but it only took you more by surprise.

“But you should cook before we have sex so that we can just go to sleep right after.”

He glanced at you.

“You don’t seem like your mind is being all that quiet today.”

Of course, your mind wasn’t being quiet. God, you wanted to scream at him. He was lying to you. Lying to you about something stupid. Lying to you about something that no one in their right minds would ever lie about.

And no matter how hard you thought about it, no matter how much you searched for a logical reason you couldn’t find one. It didn’t make sense that Jeonghan would lie to you and say he was sleeping with other people in any way at all.

You tried not to let it show too much how bothered you were, and instead just let his comment sit in the air. You noticed he finished eating a while before you did, but he waited as if he wasn’t done until you had finished yourself. Then- Despite your many protests- He got up and started to clean the dishes.

“Go to sleep y/n,” he said. “You need to rest.”

You did feel tired. Physically, and emotionally. But regardless, you were annoyed at Jeonghan.

“I never do dishes at your place,” you complained. He laughed airily.

“And you also never pull me by the hair and tell me I’m only good at being fucked,” Jeonghan replied. “Our roles aren’t so easily reversed.”

You defiantly stayed where you were, watching Jeonghan clean the dishes.

“And what are you going to do then?” You asked him. He glanced back at you. “Are you going to go home?”

“What do you want me to do?” Jeonghan asked. Your heart skipped a beat but before your mind could complicate the feeling you remembered what Jeonghan had said. It was natural to want a kind of intimacy with Jeonghan within the relationship you two had. You needed reassurance.

You didn’t respond. You just silently screamed at him.

Stay.

Jeonghan hummed, and his eyes flitted back to the dishes.

“I’ll come join you in a minute then.”

You blinked.

“I didn’t say that I wanted you to stay,” you said. Another laugh from Jeonghan.

“Okay, then I’ll leave.”

“No-” Your response came a little faster than you thought a fuck buddies should. “No, I do want you to stay.”

Jeonghan hummed and didn’t respond so after a few moments you sighed.

Why were you trying to pick fights with him right now? You were tired. You should just let things be for the time being. You quietly left the room, putting on some pajamas and climbing into your bed. You laid there for a few minutes, but it felt weird to be in your bed instead of Jeonghan’s after just being railed.

You wondered if your mind was racing so much because you were used to your relationship with Jeonghan being in a finite place.

You worried for a little while that Jeonghan wasn’t actually going to join you, but just as those thoughts appeared in your head, Jeonghan walked into your room. He closed the door shut behind himself and then climbed under the sheets.

Your bed was a queen size, versus his king, so it was a bit smaller than you were used to sharing with him. You tried to lay there and pretend like you were asleep.

A few minutes passed. Had it always been so cold in your room?

“Jeonghan?” You managed to say. Jeonghan hummed a response. “Can you hold me?”

Jeonghan shifted beside you and suddenly his arms were around you. He pulled you up against his chest, putting his face in his favorite spot- On your neck.

“See that? My reassurance,” Jeonghan mumbled. “You’ve been good today.”

You put aside all worries about Jeonghan’s intentions towards you. You did really like the assurance.

-

“So, how has it gone in paradise?” Yeongtae asked. You groaned, loudly, unafraid to express to Yeongtae that he was treading in territory you didn’t want him in.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumbled. He laughed.

“I’m rooting for you two!” He insisted. “And, admittedly, I’m curious to see how things will play out. Last episode was kind of a cliffhanger.”

“My sex life isn’t a tv show,” you replied. Then after a few minutes. “Besides, I’m also in the dark right now.”

Yeongtae’s eyes widened.

“You haven’t asked him yet?” He blurted.

“No,” you mumbled. “But that’s not a big deal, I mean what’s it even matter that he’s lying to me about sleeping with other people? He’s not. That’s a good thing.”

You tried to come off as nonchalant, but your mind was racing. You wondered what Yeongtae was going to say in response. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to reassure you that it wasn’t as big of a deal as you were making it out to be in your head or if you wanted him to reassure you that you weren’t crazy for obsessing over it so much the last few days.

“He’s still lying,” Yeongtae mumbled back. “What’s the harm in confronting him over it? I’m sure he has answers.”

You frowned, still a little put off by the whole situation. You didn’t want to have to bring it up to Jeonghan yourself. You didn’t really want him to know you knew.

It crossed your mind briefly that maybe one of the boys had told Jeonghan that you had asked them but quickly dismissed it. You were pretty sure that they all liked you a lot, and building off of that you were pretty sure that if Jeonghan did know, he would have brought it up by now.

… Maybe.

“You are way too stressed out over this situation,” Yeongtae said with a sigh and a shake of his head. “You should come to a party with me tonight.”

You scoffed at the invitation.

“Right.”

“No, I’m serious!” Yeongtae insisted. “You never have fun and let loose! We’ll bring Jeongyeon and Jimin and Jun and you can drink for once.”

“There is nothing healthy about going to a party to drink away your problems,” you replied. “It would just be further-”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Yeongtae interrupted. He took a step in front of you, forcing you to stop walking. “Come on! Forget your psych degree. Who cares if it’s unhealthy? It’s just one night. You’ll just stop thinking about him for one night. Nothing wrong with that.”

You had never hung out with Jimin and Jeongyeon voluntarily. That being said, your whole group was weird. To be going to a party that wasn’t an Alpha Mu party, to hang out with Jun, Jimin, Jeongyeon, and Yeongtae?

Well, you had never imagined that there would be a day.

As soon as you got to the party, Yeongtae had peeled away, only to come back a few minutes later with a bunch of drinks in red solo cups in hand. He passed the cups out to everyone, smiling brightly.

“Is everyone ready to have an amazing night?” He asked excitedly.

One of the reasons that you had actually agreed to come out tonight was because of Yeongtae. Namely, because it had occurred to you recently that Yeongtae hadn’t been lying to you when you first met. You were pretty sure that you actually were his only friend in school.

He never talked about meeting with other people, and if he did answer a phone call or anything it was from a friend that was out of town. You felt a bit bad for him, considering all you two spent your time doing was studying.

You looked down at the cup full of amber liquid, squinting at it unsurely. You cleared your throat.

God, it had been such a long time since you had actually gone drinking. You didn’t tend to find solace in getting drunk as normally you were practically babysitting your friends.

“Y/n, don’t worry so much about it.”

You looked up to find that Jun was watching you closely. He gave you a smile.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he assured you. “So don’t worry, nothing bad will happen.”

You gave him a small smile and nodded.

“Okay, thanks.”

You knew you didn’t have to drink if you didn’t want to. Not really.

You tipped the drink into your mouth.

You supposed that you wanted to.

The thing about getting drunk for you was mostly just that you were constantly dizzy. You weren’t necessarily clumsier than usually but the whole world constantly felt like it was spinning. You kept your grip tight on Yeongtae’s forearm as he started to talk to a girl. You laughed as you watched the two interact, glad to see that Yeongtae was actually enjoying someone’s company.

“How long have you and your girlfriend been dating?” The girl asked, her eyes shooting to you. It was a look that you had only seen in this eyes of other girls who wanted to be with Jeonghan. You laughed.

“What? We’re not dating,” you said. You let go of Yeongtae’s forearm and craned your neck, pointing to where you thought some of your fading hickeys might be. “I belong to someone else.”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” Yeongtae filled in. The girl seemed a bit surprised at the mention of Jeonghan but regardless a smile flickered across her face.

“So you won’t mind if I take Yeongtae away?”

Your mouth dropped open in excitement and surprise.

“Oh, be my guest!” Your eyes flitted towards Yeongtae. “I won’t be answering any phone calls though.”

Yeongtae laughed as the girl latched herself onto Yeongtae.

“And here I was hoping to finally get my revenge.”

The girl dragged Yeongtae away through the crowd and you found yourself alone. You wondered where to go next but you vaguely remembered Jimin and Jeongyeon sneaking off to a closet a little while earlier. They were no help.

You thought maybe you would try and go find Jun.

You took a few steps but before you could get far you bumped into someone. You went to apologize but stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Yunjun?”

The tall boy looked to be just as surprised as you were. You thought for a moment that maybe you had the wrong guy, but Yunjun was definitely standing there. Your eyes flickered to his hair. It was long and blonde. You’d never seen it like that before.

“Y/n,” Yunjun replied. His eyes flickered up and down your body, making you feel a bit self-conscious. You weren’t dressed in a lot as per Jeongyeon’s request. You two were wearing matching skirts and crop tops. “You look really good.”

Your lips flickered into a smile.

“Uh, thanks.”

You couldn’t help the way that your mind turned when you were with him. Just being near him reminded you of your time with him. Of all your flings he had probably been the worst one that you were with in terms of reassurance and aftercare. And going on that he had been one of your most intense flings.

Whereas Jeonghan was rough with you in actions and words he still slipped in praise here and there. Yunjun had never done that. It was why you had stopped seeing him. He made you feel small.

“What have you been up to recently?” Yunjun asked. He seemed to think over a few things. “Don’t you still have some of my clothes?”

Your mind flickered back to Jeonghan.

“Uh, something happened to them. I don’t have them anymore.”

Yunjun seemed confused by that statement, but he didn’t dig.

“You know, it’s been a really long time since I had my hands on you,” Yunjun said softly. He stepped closer to you, his hand coming up to your face. He brushed a strand of hair to the side. “It would be fine to have a blast from the past.”

You laughed nervously. Yunjun was someone that you didn’t really feel comfortable around. You went to respond but before you could his eyes flickered to your neck. He frowned and tilted your head up.

“How did…?” “Oh, uh-” You batted Yunjun’s hand away from you. His frown deepened at that. “I actually am seeing someone right now.”

Yunjun’s eyes narrowed at you. You could tell he didn’t like that you had diminished his display of dominance over you.

You were a bit too drunk to handle this situation. If you were sober, you knew that you wouldn’t be so nervous around him. You also knew that you would be able to leave this conversation without a stray thought.

“Who?” Yunjun asked. Now it was your turn to frown.

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded.

“Sure, it does. I just need to know if I should really worry about using someone else’s toy.”

You pressed your lips together. You hated being objectified when it was like this. This wasn’t a turn on. This was a situation you wanted out of.

“You should worry about it because I’m not a toy you’re going to get to use today,” you replied. “Or tomorrow or-”

Yunjun interrupted you with a laugh.

“It’s not like you to get drunk y/n,” he said. “The alcohol is making you forget how much fun we used to have.”

He tilted his head a bit, his eyes still on the hickey’s on your neck.

“You never let me leave hickeys on you.”

“He’s more possessive than you,” you replied pointedly. “I’m done with this conversation. Even if I wasn’t with someone, I’m not interested in sleeping with you again.”

You turned away from Yunjun, your thoughts returning to getting back to Jun but just as you turned around Yunjun’s tight gripe was on your wrist.

“That’s not your safe word,” he warned. Your eyebrows furrowed as you searched your mind to try and remember what your safe word with Yunjun had been, but in your drunk haze all you could remember was your safe word with Jeonghan. You opened your mouth to reassert that you weren’t going to sleep with Yunjun and that you didn’t remember your safe word (not that it should matter) but before you could someone came to a stop in front of you.

Your eyes furrowed and you raised your gaze to meet the persons eyes.

Everything was blurry but you could still make out that it was Jeonghan standing in front of you.

His face was a dark red and after glance at his hands you saw that his fists were clenched. You looked back up at his eyes.

“Jeonghan.”

His eyes flickered away from yours and he looked over your head.

“Let go of her.”

Jeonghan’s voice was deeper than you had ever heard it before. Yunjun let go of you so suddenly that you couldn’t help but fall forward, your head bumping into Jeonghan’s chest.

He wrapped his arms around your body, and pulled you close to him, one hand going protectively over your head. You could feel that he was talking, his body was vibrating with each word, but you couldn’t figure out what he was saying.

You tried to move to look up at him or access the situation but Jeonghan’s grip on you was too tight. He was quite literally shielding you from the conversation. Part of you wanted to fight against it. You wanted to know what he was saying.

But another part of you was tired and felt undeniably felt safer wrapped in Jeonghan’s arms. For the first time in hours, it felt quiet.

Then, Jeonghan started to move. He kept you close to him, still trying to shield you as he started to lead you through the crowd. He stopped somewhere and this time you were able to look up. He was talking to Jun. He covered your ears again quickly.

Then he started to lead you out of the party again.

Once the two of you were out in the cool air, he loosened his grip on you, letting you pull away from his body. He didn’t completely let go of you. His hand slid down, his fingers intertwining with yours.

He was quiet, not saying anything. You could feel that he was upset. But you could also feel that it wasn’t at you.

“Do you know how hard it was to watch that?” Jeonghan asked after a few minutes. When he started speaking, he also started to walk again, dragging you along with him. “I didn’t want to intervene, I know you can handle yourself.”

You didn’t respond to him, so he continued.

“When he touched you? You so clearly didn’t want it and he ignored all of your signs.”

Another brief span of silence.

“Who was that?”

“Just an old fling,” you replied, your voice quiet. You were still so dizzy. “Yunjun.”

Jeonghan’s grip tightened on your hand.

“He’s lucky he’s not dead,” he replied. “He might not see the end of the week.”

“Don’t joke about that Jeonghan,” you said. His eyes fluttered back to you, and the look in his eyes made you realize that his next statement was true.

“I’m not joking.”

You looked to the street.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Jeonghan stopped in his tracks, making you bump right into him. When you looked up, Jeonghan was looking at you with a terrifyingly serious expression on his face.

“Why?” He asked. You just stared at him. “Why are you sorry? Because you decided to have fun for once? Because you got drunk safely around friends? Because you let an old fling touch you even though you told him no?”

His words were hushed in a way that made it very clear to you he was fighting screaming.

“Don’t apologize for that,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you’re upset,” you replied softly. “I’m sorry for making you upset.”

“I’m overly possessive. This isn’t news,” he said. “Of course, I’m upset. Someone else was touching you.”

His eyes briefly flickered away from you, but his gaze was back fast.

“But that’s not your fault. I’m not upset at you,” he said. “And even if you had wanted the touches. Even if you had asked for that attention I still wouldn’t be upset at you. You can do whatever you want.”

You wanted to argue with him further on this. If he wasn’t mad at you then who was he mad at?

It was useless though.

“Do you want me to take you to your place?”

God, he was so frustrating.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to fuck me.”

You didn’t mean to be so blunt, but also you didn’t care. You kind of wanted the validation that came from having sex with Jeonghan. Even if he was confusing. Even if he was lying. You knew that he was serious when he called you good. You knew that he was being truthful when he said that he couldn’t get enough of you.

You liked that at a party with a hundred people you knew that if you were there Jeonghan would end up going home with you.

You wondered if he got jealous over other people he had slept with flirting with people. It didn’t make sense that he would only be jealous over you.

“You’re drunk,” was all Jeonghan said.

“You’d fuck me if I was sober,” you replied. Jeonghan ignored you, but you knew he was right.

“Can I…” You didn’t want to ask. This was stepping over some sort of boundary, right? You couldn’t stay the night at Jeonghan’s if you two weren’t going to have sex. You two were entering a weird territory.

But you were craving validation. Yunjun had left you so unsettled.

“Can I stay at yours?” Your voice was really quiet. “I know that we aren’t really in that sort of-”

“Of course, you can,” Jeonghan replied. “I’d never say no to something like that.”

You two walked for a few more paces in silence but suddenly nausea swept over you. You tugged at Jeonghan’s hand, trying to get him to let you go. Once he did, you felt yourself fall to the ground. You groaned and buried your face in your hands.

You didn’t walk another step.

“Let’s sleep here,” you murmured. “The ground is comfortable.”

You rolled over even further, your back hitting the concrete. You heard Jeonghan sigh, and he knelt down in front of you.

“You can’t sleep here,” he said. “We’re almost back.”

You groaned in protest, keeping your face buried. Jeonghan let you sit there for a few seconds.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

You peeked up at him.

“Carry me?”

He nodded and turned around, crouched with his back towards you. He glanced at you over his shoulder.

“Come on. Get on my back.”

You pressed your lips together. Wasn’t this a little intimate?

But then again, if it were a friend like Yeongtae or Jun you would get on their back without hesitation.

You did as Jeonghan wanted you to. Once you were secure on his back Jeonghan stood up and began to walk. You two were quiet, you were afraid to lay your head too close to Jeonghan but you were also still ridiculously tired. You let your head rest on his shoulders, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Jeonghan?”

He hummed.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

-

When you woke up you were in Jeonghan’s room. Your head hurt a little bit as you turned over to face Jeonghan’s side of the bed, but he wasn’t there. You pressed your lips together. Was this how he felt when he woke up and you weren’t next to him?

You glanced over and noticed a glass of water on the bedside table with a note. You reached over and began to drink the water as you read Jeonghan’s writing.

Call me when you wake up. Mingyu’s making you breakfast.

You weren’t in the same clothes as you had been the night before so Jeonghan must have changed you.

You tried to think back on the night, but you couldn’t remember anything after you fell asleep. Maybe you and Jeonghan had fucked last night? Further evidence that you meant very little to Jeonghan.

You sighed and pulled out your phone to call Jeonghan. You knew Jeonghan wouldn’t fuck you when you were drunk. As much of a player as he was, there were lines you knew he wouldn’t cross.

The phone only rang once.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you. I had an exam to go to,” he said. “Are you drinking your water?”

You hummed your confirmation to his question.

“Are you feeling, okay?” There was an air of worry in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied. “I just don’t drink a lot is all.”

Jeonghan was quiet for a little while.

“It’s hard to figure out if you’re telling the truth or not over the phone,” he murmured. “Tonight Alpha Mu is throwing a party. If you’re feeling better, you should come.”

You thought over it.

“Maybe,” you replied. “Hey, why were you at the party last night?”

“Hm? Jun told me about it.”

Your eyebrows rose.

“What? Why?”

“He wanted to make sure you were watched well while you were drinking since you were nervous about it,” Jeonghan replied. “And he knew that I would kill him if something happened to you.”

“I can take of myself,” you murmured into the phone.

“I know,” Jeonghan agreed, and nothing in his words made you think that he was just saying it to make you feel better. “But isn’t it nice to have someone watching out for you?”

It was.

“I should get back to my place,” you said. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

Suddenly a thought occurred to you.

“Hey if I don’t come to the party tonight, are you going to sleep with someone else?”

“Why’re you so interested in who I sleep with recently?” Jeonghan asked. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t,” you replied. “Just… Wondering. Do you use condoms with them?”

“I always use condoms,” Jeonghan replied as if it was obvious.

“But never with me,” you replied. He scoffed.

“Aren’t you the same person who was begging me for a creampie the first time with me?” He asked. You opened your mouth to argue with him, but then your mind flashed the memory of your first time with him.

“Goodbye, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan laughed.

“Goodbye, y/n.”

You walked downstairs after getting changed, giving a drowsy smile to the boys in the kitchen. It was only Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Jun. You took a seat next to Jun, immediately getting a plate of eggs placed in front of you. You smiled at Mingyu.

“Thanks, I feel bad, you’re always feeding me.”

He waved away your concerns.

“It’s nice to feed someone other than the boys,” he assured.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jun asked you. He leaned close to you, peering into your eyes. “Jeonghan and I were watching you talk to that guy last night-”

“Yunjun,” you agreed with a nod. Seungcheol suddenly shifted on the other end of the table.

“Yunjun?” He asked. “How do you know Yunjun?”

You glanced across the table at him, your eyebrows furrowing.

“I had a fling with him,” you replied. Seungcheol’s face showed that he was troubled by your response. “How do you know Yunjun?”

“Mutual friends,” he replied. “Did he do anything to you?”

You could feel the gaze of all three boys on you.

“It’s just Yunjun,” you said with a laugh. “He’s harmless.”

“Jeonghan was pissed when he brought you in last night,” Mingyu explained. “We wouldn’t be concerned if it weren’t for just how angry he was.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Angry?”

“He came downstairs after putting you up and sat for an hour building lego sets not saying a word. He didn’t really get anything done. That’s how you could tell he was mad. Then he went back upstairs to be with you,” Seungcheol explained.

“Nothing really happened,” you disregarded. “Jeonghan just gets jealous.”

The boys were silent for a few seconds. They clearly disagreed with something you had said. You weren’t sure what.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Jun finally asked. You shrugged.

“Maybe. I don’t know yet,” you said honestly. “My head hurts from the party.”

Seungcheol wordlessly got up and rummaged through a drawer for a moment before setting a bottle of ibproufen in front of you. You laughed dryly, shaking your head.

“You are a strange group of guys,” you said honestly. “You baby me just as much as Jeonghan does.”

The boys ignored your statement, and brought up something else. Luckily, giving you the chance to eat your eggs in peace.

Despite the weird air the boys gave off initially, being around them made you sure of one thing. Maybe another party was just what you needed. After all, last night your stress had momentarily been gone. What was the worst that could happen?

-

When you got to the Alpha Mu party your first thought was that you shouldn’t have come. Your head still hurt a little bit from drinking the night before. But, you wanted to see Jeonghan so you had wanted to come to the party either way.

You were sure that you could convince him to spend some time in his room if you found him soon anyways. You walked through the party but didn’t make it far before someone stopped you.

“Hey it’s y/n, right?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you made out the boy standing in front of you. He was only slightly taller than you, his black hair in a bowl cut with wide eyes.

“Yeah…” You replied uncertainly. “Who are you?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know me,” he replied with a hearty laugh. He held out his hand. “Hyeon.”

You dipped your head a little in greeting.

“Nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t though. He was giving off a strange air.

“I heard you had a run in with Yunjun last night,” Hyeon said. “I’m his friend. We met a little while after you stopped seeing him.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh.” “And I heard that you like it rough in bed yeah? You like to be owned?”

The way he was speaking was making you a bit angry. The difference between today and last night being now that you weren’t drunk you had clarity over the situation. Hyeon was being a sexist asshole and it was making you angry.

However, before you could respond Jeonghan came up behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder. His grip was tight as he came to a stop beside you. You glanced over at him, noticing a really hard expression on his face.

“Oh, Jeonghan. I heard that you’re the man in the know,” Hyeon said, an even bigger smile crossing his lips. “Is it true that y/n is a pathetic slut in bed?”

Your eyes widened slightly.

“How did you hear about that?” You asked, but you supposed it was from Yunjun if they really were friends.

“Was I talking to you?” Hyeon asked roughly, his eyebrows furrowing. You blinked at the aggressive tone.

“Hey-” Jeonghan started, but before he could get more out you interrupted him by placing your hand on his chest and stepping closer to Hyeon.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” You asked, your voice getting deeper and your words getting curter.  Hyeon leaned closer, his eyes narrowing.

“I said I wasn’t talking to you,” Hyeon repeated. “Don’t you know better than to talk without permission?”

Hyeon shot you a cocky expression on his face.

“I guess you forgot Yunjun’s training,” he said. His gaze darted over your shoulder. “And Jeonghan hasn’t done well reminding you of your place.”

Your fist collided with Hyeon’s face before you could think about it further. Hyeon stumbled back, in surprise, you figured, not pain, and readjusted his jaw.

“What the-”

“Don’t talk about me like that. Not in front of me, not when I’m not around, not ever,” you snapped. “Just because I like it when Jeonghan treats me like that doesn’t mean I want to be treated like that by everyone. Especially not an ugly piece of shit like you.”

Hyeon squared his shoulders,

“Sorry Jeonghan I’m going to have to beat some sense into your little side piece-” Hyeon started to approach you again, raising his fist as he approached. You immediately regretted speaking. Your eyes widened and you raised your hands in front of your face, but impact never came.

“Hyeon, you seemed to not have heard what y/n just said.”

You looked up at Jeonghan to find that he had Hyeon’s fist in his hand and he was completely blocking Hyeon’s access to you with his body. You straightened back up, glancing around Jeonghan cautiously. Unlike earlier with you Hyeon actually looked a little scared looking up at Jeonghan who quite literally towered over him.

“J-Jeonghan, I was just joking-”

“Apologize,” Jeonghan said.

“Wh-what?”

“Apologize right now.”

Jeonghan let go of Hyeon’s fist, making him stumble a bit. He took one more glance at Jeonghan’s face and then immediately looked at you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it.”

Jeonghan grabbed Hyeon’s arm and tilted it behind Hyeon’s back in a way that made him cry out.

“Not good enough,” Jeonghan said sharply.

You thought that this Jeonghan should seem familiar to you. After all, it should on paper be the same Jeonghan that you saw in the bedroom. Rough and stern and not going to leave without getting what he wanted.

But he was different somehow with Hyeon. For once, you were a little scared about what he was going to do.

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

Jeonghan scoffed and knocked Hyeon down to his knees. Once Hyeon was down there, Jeonghan pulled his head up by the roots of his hair.

“Why don’t you beg y/n for forgiveness?”

Hyeon pressed his lips together, clearly hesitating to do so but despite his hesitation: “Please forgive me.”

Jeonghan looked over at you, an amused expression spreading over his face.

“Ever wondered what you like when you’re with me?”

You rolled your eyes, a little flustered by the display in front of you.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this,” you mumbled.

“Not really,” Jeonghan replied. “I’d much rather it be you. It’s not enjoyable in the slightest to put Hyeon in his place.”

He tightened his grip in Hyeon’s hair.

“Well, do you forgive him?” He asked. You sighed and shrugged.

“I guess. I kinda feel bad seeing him like this. He can’t help that he’s a man.”

Jeonghan hummed and released Hyeon’s hair, throwing him forward so that he had to catch himself with his hands. He gasped as if he hadn’t been able to breathe before and looked up at you, this time a look of fear in his eyes.

“You two are crazy.”

And then Hyeon stumbled to his feet and rushed away, disappearing into the crowd of people that you couldn’t believe weren’t paying attention to the two of you.

You glanced at Jeonghan, but he wasn’t looking at you, instead he was squinting in the direction that Hyeon had rushed off in. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked at him.

“Why did you react like that?” You asked. Jeonghan hummed in question, merely tilting his head towards you in acknowledgment.

“React like what?”

“Like... That,” you emphasized. “Like... You cared about the fact that he was being a dick to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I care?”

“Because I’m just a fuck toy,” you blurted. This made Jeonghan look at you, his eyebrows raising.

“What?”

“I’m just a fuck toy,” you repeated. Jeonghan frowned deeply.

“You’ve got to stop saying that outside of the bedroom,” he mumbled. “You’re not just a fuck toy. Why would you refer to yourself like that to me?”

Frustration bubbled in your chest. You knew that Micah Salaberrios would be laughing at you right now. If you had used his nonviolent communication techniques earlier your feelings wouldn’t be boiling up like this.

Despite the dumb advice in Micah’s book you knew that there was one piece of advice you shouldn’t overlook. Don’t bring up the conversation right now when your feelings are just going to prevent you from talking rationally. Whatever you do don’t bring up-

“Why did you lie to me and tell me that you were fucking other people?”

Jeonghan’s confusion evaporated from his face almost instantly. His mouth closed and his fingers closed around your wrist.

“Maybe we should talk about this somewhere less public,” he mumbled.

“Why? You don’t want everyone to know? You lied to me about fucking other people.”

You grabbed a random girl.

“Want to fuck Yoon Jeonghan?” You asked. “Well, you can’t! Because he is only sleeping with me and yet is telling me that he is sleeping with someone else regardless.”

Jeonghan sharply tugged your wrist, and the girl gave you a weird look, but walked away with a slight reciprocated bow towards Jeonghan.

“Look we can talk about this,” Jeonghan insisted. “Just… Can’t you just come upstairs?”

You didn’t know why but you were mad. Too mad at Jeonghan to want to be rational. You hit his chest to which he sighed, wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you up over his shoulder.

You yelped, causing a couple of people to glance over at the two of you. Embarrassment filled your body, more so even then when people referenced your sexual relationship with Jeonghan.

You hit Jeonghan on the back.

“Put me down Jeonghan!” You insisted.

“Just let me take you upstairs,” Jeonghan argued back.

It wasn’t that you didn’t feel safe. You always felt safe with Jeonghan. No matter how rough he was being, you knew at the end of the day he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want him to do. A closed door conversation was exactly the thing that you two needed.

But fuck that.

“I think Jennie’s texting me,” you blurted at the top of your lungs. Jeonghan’s entire body froze and he had you steady on the ground so fast that you felt the world spin a little. Your eyes tried to focus on him, but for some reason you were crying.

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan said softly and from what you could see of him (blurry Jeonghan was still stupidly attractive and serious) he did look like a reflection of his words.

“Don’t call me, Jeonghan.”

And with that you turned on your heel and left the party.

[knucklesdeepmingi]

I’m so in love with this story so far wow

[bh-archive]

Neglected | One-Shot (Wonwoo, I.M)

Rating/genre: M18+, established relationship, friends to fucking; smut 💖, light angst, light fluff Pairings: Fem!Reader x Wonwoo, Fem!Reader x I.M/Changkyun Warnings: Explicit smut, protected vaginal penetration, dom!Wonwoo, dom!Changkyun, sub!reader (not bratty), morally questionable actions, infidelity, getting caught, jealousy? (i don’t even think Wonwoo knows if he’s jealous lol), Changkyun is kind of a shit, not an angsty ending, biting, rough sex, titty slapping, a single spank, marking, spit kink, degradation, overstimulation, the boys get a bit aggressive but reader is wholly consenting to it all, the boys also sound kind of manipulative at times but it’s all part of the play, fingering, oral (f + m receiving), deep throating, face-fucking, choking, good crying, a safeword/action is mentioned but not used, praise kink, multiple orgasms (like A LOT), reader wears a bra and panties, pet names ‘baby’ ‘pretty girl’ ‘slut’ ‘whore’ ‘good girl’, referred to as a 'toy', two hot unemotional doms who are actually softies bc obvs Word Count: 10.2k Summary: Nobody needs to be lonely; just say the word and you won't be. Your boyfriend’s best friend will make sure of it.

A/N: Reader cheats at the beginning so if you’re not ok to read that then… don’t lol. It ends up not being a big deal but still. 

A/N 2: The first Build-Your-Own-Orgy (BYOO) woohoo!!! Two peeps requested the same idols! Thank you @drunk-on-dk and @lenireads for participating - I really hope you both enjoy this! Your requests were very slightly different so I tried to do something that would accommodate you both. Pretty much you both just wanted to get fucked up so ahahaha here you go… I died writing this so please let me know if it had a similar effect on you :D

He’d had his eyes on you all evening, across the little stretch of beach or through the blaze of the bonfire. Over a friend’s shoulder that he was chatting away at him. And, obviously, the only reason you’d been noticing is because it was impossible to not be aware of him, not let your eyes search the crowd for him every time you got distracted for a few minutes.

It had always been like this with Changkyun – the little tingle on your skin when he was around from the electricity in the air. Even the first time you’d met him, not long after you and Wonwoo had gotten together for real. But it had been easier to ignore when you were all caught up in your new relationship, blissfully blind to anything that wasn’t Wonwoo’s perfect hands on you. 

Now…

Keep reading

Now you were struggling to ignore your attraction to him more and more. It wasn’t anything serious – you loved Wonwoo after all. This was just pure sexual attraction that left you embarrassingly horny every time your friend group hung out and he was present. He just had this… thing? Something that you couldn’t explain. The way he looked at you.

The way he was looking at you now with slightly hooded eyes. A smoulder but way more uncaring and quietly (almost imperceptibly) cocky. 

Ok, so, perhaps you had a type. 

You’d been watching each other so much all night that you’d zoned out of a handful of conversations, being brought back to reality with pokes on your shoulder, escalating to light smacks on the head from your friends as they giggled. 

“Hellooo? Birthday girl?? What the fuck are you looking at?”

You’d brushed it off time and time again, blaming it on the alcohol you’d ingested when really, you could only call yourself tipsy if that. Perhaps you would’ve been having a rowdier night yourself if your nerves weren’t so on edge. Or if your boyfriend was actually here. 

It wasn’t late. Downing the rest of your drink, you slid your empty solo cup under the bottom of your friend's and squeezed her arm. “Gonna go call Woo. I’ll be back!”

Loud exclamations, mixed reactions, followed you as you trudged through the sand, finding the pathway in the dark thanks to the glint of the moon and the deck lights that had been left on up at the beach house. 

The house was big but not enough for the whole group of you. People would have to sleep on the couch or on the floor with blankets as a sad make-shift mattress. Perhaps it was a good thing that Wonwoo couldn’t make it for the little getaway weekend. One less body to accommodate. 

Brushing off your sandy feet half-assedly, you made your way inside, the sounds of blasting music and squeals of your friend group becoming muffled by the patio door shutting behind you. You leaned your weight forward on the island counter, legs dangling as you let it ring, your boyfriend’s contact name staring you in your deflating face as you slowly realized he wasn’t going to pick up. It was 9:30pm. Was he still working? Surely, he wasn’t already asleep. 

A light knock startled you, the sound of the door cracking open filling the silence before you could even turn around to see who it was. 

“Crying at your own party?” Changkyun’s expression was blank as he ducked inside, finally smirking only when you shot him a look.

“Not crying.” You swiped up your phone, locking it before slipping it back in your pocket. “Also, not technically my party.”

“Wang’s beach house. Still your party.”

You rolled your eyes slightly, the nervousness hitting you again as you leant back against the counter, palms pressing to it on either side of you. 

Hands tucked casually in his pockets, he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. It wasn’t sexual; you’d seen him do it a hundred times out of habit. When he was waiting. When he was thinking. But it still made you gulp. 

“Well, guess I should get back out there.”

“He didn’t pick up?”

You looked at him surprised for only a moment before letting out a tiny indignant sigh. “No… he didn’t.”

“Ahh,” he replied with a little nod as if everything made sense now. 

You’d always found Changkyun kind of weird in that quiet, interesting kind of way. At first you’d thought he didn’t like you at all. Wonwoo had assured you that he did. Maybe a little too much. Apparently Wonwoo was incredibly good at reading both of you.

Thankfully, he’d found it all kind of funny, Changkyun being one of his closest friends and everything. It still amused him even now, occasionally teasing you by jokingly suggesting you bring a third into your sex life and questioning you who you would want it to be. Who you thought would agree. 

It was all a set-up so he could pretend to get a little jealous when you would shyly answer with the obvious choice, taunt you relentlessly, then fuck the hell out of you. 

Even if he did notice how wet it made you – god, you hoped he didn’t – Wonwoo couldn’t possibly understand just how much Changkyun actually got to you. Especially now that he had realized the effect he had on you and had developed the audacity to actually take advantage of it. 

Not as much when Wonwoo was around. But on the rare occasion when the group hung out without him or if you saw each other while out, Changkyun had become shameless in how he looked at you, breaking his usual stoic facade to send you quick but overtly deliberate looks, usually involving a cocky raise of an eyebrow or two. It drove you mad. 

Once or twice, he’d leaned in when no one was paying attention, whispering lowly in your ear, making your skin prickle – always something so vaguely suggestive that you couldn’t actually call it inappropriate even though you knew the whole situation was. 

When he stepped closer now, your stomach jumped. Yes, inappropriate is what this would be if he came any closer. 

The only reason you didn’t think he was purely messing with you was thanks to a text he’d sent a couple months ago.

CK: if you’re bored when wonwoo’s busy lmk

CK: we can chill

Not incriminating on its own. But you’d never told Wonwoo about the offer. And you’d never taken him up on it, finding a way to deflect instead, make it sound like you were just as busy. But you weren’t.

He was a foot away, hands in his pockets, just stood in front of you casually in the still darkness of the kitchen. His head tilted down, his gaze meeting yours, and he did it once again: the eyebrow raise. Like it was a question. A request? A challenge? 

It was intimidating and careless and so fucking hot. You wanted to punch him. 

“What?” dropped from you, a bit abrasive. 

“Why so cranky?” he asked, brows furrowing now as if he was actually asking. He wasn’t.

“My boyfriend ditched me for work,” you played along, head tilting to the side, jaw setting as you tried not to waver. 

“On your birthday…” he added with a little wince of feigned sympathy, the whole thing meant to just rub it in more. “That’s shitty.”

You took in a little breath, working so hard to not let your gaze fall to the span of his broad shoulders, the hills of his firm chest beneath that thin t-shirt. “Kind of, yeah.”

He nodded, his gaze trailing down your body then back up. By the time he was meeting your eyes again, he was stepping forward once more, his hands coming to press against the counter on either side of yours. God, he always smelt so fucking good.

“Kyun.” You turned your head as you spoke quietly, inadvertently inviting him closer when you were just trying to avoid his gorgeous face. The awful buzzing inside of you was getting stronger. 

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Mm, nothing.” His lips brushed your neck like a feather, tickling and making you jump the tiniest bit. “Damn, how long’s it been since he’s touched you?” he said through a smirk before pressing them to you again, this time more firmly, sending a different kind of shock through you. 

A tiny sigh left your lips before you forced yourself to morph it into words: “We can not do this.”

“You want to.”

That one caught you. It was useless to deny it, but admitting it to him felt criminal. 

“You’ve been neglected… I can help,” he whispered against your skin, each word penetrating a little deeper. “Maybe Wonwoo will thank me.”

“I don’t think he will,” you whispered back, practically delirious as he reached your jaw, his nose ending up in your hair. 

“You never know.”

“He’s just busy… We’re– we’re good.”

“I’m not saying you’re not.”

How could someone be so aggravating and so sensual at the same time?

“Just wanna make you feel good on your birthday,” he said then he was tilting his head to yours, catching your bottom lip between his teeth and pausing a moment before pulling slightly, enough to make you moan pathetically. 

Shit.

Tugged by his current, you connected your mouths, your hands floating up to hold his jaw. 

He was closer now, pressing you right up against the counter, his arms wrapping around your back. The deeper the kiss, mouths widening to taste the alcohol on him, the more your inhibitions dissolved. Maybe you were more mad at Wonwoo for bailing than you thought you were. Or maybe he really wouldn’t mind all that much. You could lie to yourself, at least for a few seconds. 

“Think I know how too. Did you know your boyfriend kisses and tells?” he breathed before kissing you again, concealing your surprise. 

You pushed him back but only just enough, not really wanting him to go too far. “What?”

The hazy look in his eye was too much, his head tilting to look at you, gaze dancing over your face, down to your lips. 

“What does that even mean? You guys talk about me?” Your heart was thrumming harder now, in nervousness, in excitement. Sure, you’d figured Wonwoo had bugged Changkyun about his attraction to you about as much as he’d bugged you about yours. But the look on his face was insinuating something else. 

“Mhm,” he sounded out, moving for your lips again as if unable to stay away. “Told me about all the dirty shit you like.”

Your insides twisted, that unsettling feeling in your stomach emanating through you. What the fuck, Wonwoo?

“That you’re just a little whore for him,” he muttered, before taking your lip between his teeth again and biting a bit harder, releasing a second later to drag the tip of his tongue along it. 

All of it sent a shot to your core, your face flaming with heat. “He shouldn’t be telling you stuff,” you replied stubbornly, even as your hands gripped into the front of his shirt and his moved to settle on your hips. 

“Told me we’d probably have fun together.”

“He did not say that,” you pulled back once more to narrow your eyes at him. 

He smiled smugly, apparently enjoying your reaction. “Maybe he did.”

“God, stop being such a fucking liar,” you urged before directing his mouth back to yours, his body coming with it and pressing all along your front. You had daydreamed too many disgusting times about his body pressed to yours like this to not groan at the feeling. 

“Mm– not lying–” he spoke against your kiss, mouth tipping open wider to brush his wet tongue against yours, caressing it as one hand slid up your body, landing warmly on the side of your neck. Breathing a little heavier, he hovered an inch away. “He’s one of my best friends. You don’t think we talk?”

“He’s one of your best friends and you’re doing this–” 

He interrupted you, licking into your mouth again as he caught your chin, distracting you with the firmness of his touches. 

You were hot all over now, especially between your legs where the thrill of all of this had sunk into you despite you knowing how wrong it was. It wasn’t even a lie you were telling yourself; you truly did love Wonwoo. But you’d joked about this with him so many times now that some of the guilt over the idea had seemed to have rubbed away. 

Why didn’t it feel that bad? It should feel bad. It didn’t. It felt so fucking good to kiss him, to have his one hand gripping your hip while the other held your jaw firmly, unable to move away. 

When the two of you separated again, it was on his timing, you lingering in his hold, breathless with red bitten lips, peering up at him. 

“Which one’s your bed?” he asked quietly with a subtle nod to the hallway.

“Is this just a ploy so you don’t have to sleep on the floor?” you muttered, trying to turn your face to look away but he wouldn’t let you, making you watch the slightly intimidating look he shot you, making it clear he was expecting a real answer.

“The master bedroom. But Sam and Kai are sleeping with me so…”

He was already walking away, catching your wrist and tugging you with him, not that you put up any resistance, following him and taking the moment unwatched to swallow the lump in your throat. 

“Kyun,” you said worriedly once the bedroom door was closed behind you but your hands were already moving up his chest, feeling the hard muscle covering him, your feet moving with him as he backed up towards the bed. “Seriously, what are we doing?”

“Do you want this or no?” he asked, dipping his head down to kiss at your neck as his hands found their way under your shirt.

“You know that doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t like seeing you lonely.”

“That’s what this is about?” you whispered, knowing full-well that that was not the truth. 

“I also really want to make you come. Over and over until you’re crying.”

Your jaw tipped open, head tilting involuntarily back as he sucked on your neck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He sounded like Wonwoo. He sounded like Wonwoo when he had time for you, when he wasn’t working all the time. 

He licked over the same spot, leaving a swipe of spit all the way up. It was dirty; it made you physically shiver. “You want that? Want to cry on my cock, Y/N?”

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, wetness seeping into your panties at the thought, his tone of voice, the way he was scratching lightly along your back. “Wonwoo will kill us.”

“He won’t care,” he replied quickly, devoid of emotion, lifting away a moment to be able to pull your shirt over your head with your full cooperation before adding: “Ok, maybe a little.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You can beg for his forgiveness. On your knees.”

Oh god, you were so wet. It was uncomfortable at this point. 

“I’m sure it’ll work.” With that, he kissed you once more, drawing you to him. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly as you deepened the kiss, humming into it, addicted to the feeling of him. 

He sat back onto the bed, taking you with him, your legs splaying to straddle him as his hands caressed down over your ass before landing a sharp slap on one cheek. Even through the denim, you could feel the sting of it, reacting with a groan into his mouth. 

“What the fuck?”

Separating your lips abruptly, you recognized Wonwoo’s voice in an instant, your heart beginning to thud heavily. It was lodged up in your throat. Like you couldn’t breathe. He was here?

When you looked at the doorway, he tossed his overnight bag to the ground, staring the both of you down. 

There were no words to say. It was exactly what it looked like. You had meant to. 

“Fuck, Wonwoo–…” you breathed out, scrunching your face up in shame before you could even think to move from where you were propped up over Changkyun – who hadn’t even been smart enough to take his hands off your ass.

He closed the door roughly. “Well, happy fucking birthday to you, huh?” he spat out too quietly before setting his jaw once again, the muscle clearly tensing even from feet away. 

“I’m sorry, I–...” you started before once again finding yourself lost for words, letting out a gust of wasted air as your head dropped down between your shoulders in defeat. 

When you went to move, he was already behind you, his touch forcing you to fall to the side instead, onto the mattress beside his best friend, catching you off guard; he was normally only ever physical with you during sex. He’d never laid a hand on you otherwise.

“I thought you were fucking kidding,” he said, now directed at Changkyun and making you blink up at him in confusion. 

You felt cold all over, the dread of what this would mean seeping into you despite how fast your heart was pumping the blood through your body. 

“I said it seriously,” Changkyun said before shrugging – fucking shrugging – where he was now propped, his hands splayed out behind him holding him up. “Not my fault if you didn’t believe me.”

“Fuck you,” Wonwoo scoffed but it had a tinge of a laugh in it. 

“Wait– what?” you asked, glancing between the two of them in confused panic. 

“She just wants to be touched, man,” Changkyun said then, switching his attention to you as he leaned over onto one elbow, crossing his free arm to graze along your side.

And just as his words promised, you inhaled audibly at the touch, at the intimacy of his fingertips trailing towards your hip bone, the top of your jeans. 

“No shit,” Wonwoo said sharply, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, one stubborn strand falling right back down onto his forehead. But then he didn’t say anything else, didn’t even make a move to stop his friend. He just watched as Changkyun’s thumb dipped under the waistband on your jeans and slid towards the button.

You gulped. Your body was incredibly confused, goosebumps popping up across your skin but no part of you was clear on the exact cause. Because Changkyun still looked hazily drunk on you, and Wonwoo was attempting to process everything at warp speed, his breathing seeming to calm even as his tongue pushed harshly into his cheek. 

And then there was you, laid back on the bed, caught looking between them.

He popped the button, turning his head to look at Wonwoo as his fingers found the zipper and slid it down. “I think she’s nice and wet for us,” he said so simply, looking down right at the moment that Wonwoo’s eyebrows pushed up.

To be fair, he must’ve been longing for it too. It had been weeks since the two of you had fucked. You couldn’t be the only one feeling deprived. 

His gaze hopped from Changkyun’s face to his hand to your face. “Baby,” he said firmly. 

“I… I know,” you said nervously but still making no move to stop his friend. You didn’t want him to stop. But you had to keep your head, at least a little bit. “Should we– go talk?”

Changkyun paused where his hand was dipping inside your jeans, dangerously close to pulling a moan from you, to look up at Wonwoo for his reply.

“Talk about what?” He came close leaning over your legs, hands dipping into the mattress on either side of your thighs, to raise an eyebrow at you. “How you were about to sleep with my best friend? Behind my back?”

“I would’ve told you,” you said in a small voice. 

Wonwoo licked at the corner of his mouth, staring you down. Why did it feel like his anger was more for show than anything? Why hadn’t he tossed Changkyun out of the fucking room yet?

The hand in your pants moved lower, finding the wet spot and pulling a soft inhale from you despite you trying to hide it, your lips pushing together. 

“If you guys are actually going to fuck around on me, at least have the decency to include me,” he said finally, reaching for the top of your jeans to roughly pull them down and straight off, tossing them behind him onto the floor. 

Beside you, the corner of Changkyun’s mouth quirked up. 

What the fuck. The threesome thing has been a joke. A joke. Every time. 

“Wait, what?” you asked, brows drawn together so dramatically, your eyeballs about to pop out of your head. For a second, you completely forgot about Changkyun’s fingers teasing over the crotch of your panties. “Aren’t you… mad?”

He didn’t respond, not even looking at you as he leaned back over you and bit at the top of your breast while his hands went underneath to unclasp your bra. 

Reflexively, your hands tangled in his hair, a gasp coming out at the sudden knick to your skin just as Changkyun started to slowly rub in circles, making a bigger mess of the cotton fabric. Still, you pressed your head into the bed and arched up, making it easier for Wonwoo to fling the bra across the room as well. 

“Do you want me to be mad?” He caught your nipple lightly between his teeth, finally tilting his head up slightly to look at you. 

“I– I, I…” you stuttered out, startled by the feeling and just everything going on at once. With another breath you finally managed a flustered: “I just don’t want you to stop.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop.” He sucked the nipple into his mouth harshly, pulling a pained moan from you, the intensity on your touch-starved body hurting so good. 

“You are fucking soaked,” came from beside you, Changkyun’s voice shaking you somehow more than his hand between your legs. 

“I…” you went to speak again but there was nothing to say, a pant leaving your lips as Wonwoo continued to roughly tongue at your nipple, his other hand pinching and squeezing with similar vigour. 

Then Changkyun pressed harder. Right on your clit. 

“Ah, fuck.” Your hips bucked up, immediately beginning to grind against his hand. He was right; you could feel that you were so wet already. It was fucking ridiculous. 

“It turns you on, baby?” Wonwoo paused only a second as he switched to your other breast, taunting you once more before enveloping your hard nipple with his mouth. “The idea of fucking my best friend in front of me?”

Changkyun scooted his body closer, eyes trailing up and down yours as his fingers continued their motion. It felt too good for what it was – as if your nerve endings were on fire. Because there was no way that a bit of rubbing over your panties would normally have you reacting like this. 

You let out a little whimper before the words came. “You– you know the answer to that.”

“Can't believe you told him you wanted to fuck me,” Changkyun said in his low tone, piercing eyes finally connecting with yours. God, he looked so fucking hot, you couldn’t stop the way your teeth bit at your lip.

Wonwoo had started kissing down your torso, sucking harsh marks into the roundness of your breasts, the skin along your rib cage, tongue trailing down to your tummy. 

“Fantasizing about your boyfriend's friend?” Changkyun continued, "Not good, Y/N."

Another whimper as you shut your eyes tight, this time more out of embarrassment than anything. “Couldn't help it.”

“Fuck, you are a little slut,” he mumbled, letting his head fall to your neck, his nose followed by his lips grazing along your jaw line. Then he was biting at your ear lobe, redirecting pain signals up before Wonwoo dragged them right back down again, a dark red spit-covered mark now emblazoned on your hip bone. 

“Is that right? Are you my little slut?” Not even bothering to tell him to move his hand, Wonwoo just pulled the panties off with force, allowing Changkyun’s long fingers to press directly into your wetness, an audible squelching sound reaching all of your ears. 

You moaned at the direct contact, back arching up as you reached out to grab onto Changkyun who was fixated on the sight of your bare core. 

“Hmm? Are you my little slut, baby?” Wonwoo asked again as he crawled back up, pushing your legs apart until they were bent back, leaving you fully on display to both of them. 

When you still didn’t answer, too distracted by the slippery circles being painted over your clit, he slapped the side of one of your breasts, just hard enough for it to grab your attention, following up with a pinch to both nipples. “Hm?”

“Fuck. Yes– sorry, yes. I am,” you spluttered out, clenching around nothing, more arousal undoubtedly leaking out of you as it always did when Wonwoo got rough with you or was mean to you in any capacity. Which was, fortunately, a lot of the time. Your sexual compatibility was insane – it was part of the reason why you ended up feeling so ravenous when he was too busy to be intimate with you for a week or two. You craved it. 

“And you’re going to do everything I say? Be a good little girl?” He leaned down a bit to come face to face with your pussy, dangling his perfect mouth right in front of you. 

You nodded, peering down at him where he had you pinned firmly with his hands on the back of your thighs, and watched as he gathered spit in his mouth then let it drop directly onto your hole. You could feel it, trickling down your folds to your ass and probably onto the sheets beneath you. It just made you moan more. 

“Gotta prove to me that you can be good. Because that’s pretty fucking hard to believe right now, Y/N.”

“I can do that,” you said softly, slipping into obedient submission even faster than normal – thanks to circumstances. 

He looked up at the room for a split second before focusing back on you and the desperate frown between your eyebrows. “You do everything I say. No fucking complaining, ok?”

You gave him another tiny yet fervent nod, eager for him to continue, for something, anything. Whatever he would give you. 

“Ok,” he said, seemingly satisfied before he was tapping the side of your ass. “Turn.”

You did so quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he guided you where he wanted: your head half-hanging off the edge while Changkyun adjusted with you, ending up between your parted legs. 

Right away, your friend was leaning over you, back to teasing your slick folds, making you shiver as you watched him. “This pretty pussy,” Changkyun groaned as he spread it open to two fingers, voice still quiet and relatively monotone even as he expressed his appreciation. “How does he fit in this tiny little cunt?”

The words made you clench, tightening more around the fingertips prodding at your entrance. 

Wonwoo stood by your head. His clothes had come off quickly, his gorgeous dick hanging hard in front of your face when your head fell back to look upside down at him. “We make it fit. Right, baby?” he said too sweetly before grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Open.”

Your tongue was already out before he could even finish the word, lips wrapping around the thick head of his cock as he sunk into your mouth. 

Barely giving you a second, he pushed in farther, his other hand coming to the side of your head as well to hold it in place. 

At the same time, Changkyun was slowly sliding a finger into your warmth, your walls spasming around him. “Fuck,” he groaned low in his throat. “Just wants to be filled so bad.”

Your whine vibrated around Wonwoo’s cock, turning into a gag as he stuffed it down into your throat. Already wetness was springing to your eyes at the feeling of the hard intrusion, your hands jumping to rest on the sides of his thighs though you did nothing to try to stop his movements. All you wanted was for him to use you like he hadn’t done in weeks. 

“Poor neglected pussy. Sucking me in,” Changkyun said and you could hear the exaggerated pout in his voice. “Wonwoo doesn’t pay enough attention to you.”

The fact that it was obvious that he was talking about your pussy over talking about you just made you whine more, the pathetic sound getting louder when he slipped in another finger, pushing them in deep until his knuckles were pressed right up against you. 

Wonwoo had started fucking into your mouth, slow but not slow enough for you to mistake him for being gentle. No, he clearly didn’t care about making you comfortable, pushing it in deep until you were gagging all over again before pulling out to let you breathe a moment, letting the strings of spit hang from his dick. 

You kept your mouth open, ready to receive him over and over again, even when your jaw started to ache a bit, wide eyes brimming with tears, staring up at him each time he pulled back enough for you to be able to see him. 

“Good girl. Love it when you listen to me,” he groaned, finally letting you hear a bit of the satisfaction in his voice, the mix of the physical pleasure with the control he had over you. 

A proud hum bubbled out of you, the praise sending an actual tingle across your skin and making you clench once more. 

Changkyun started fucking into you a little harder, making you a little more crazy. But you weren’t sure how much farther you could go. It felt like they’d barely done anything to you and you were already about to crumple. 

Wonwoo’s hands slid down from the sides of your head to your neck, thumbs crossing over to lightly choke you as he fucked into your throat a little quicker, using shallower thrusts to feel the way his length moved under his palms. He’d fucked you liked this before; only a handful of times but he always came so hard when he did, entranced by the feeling of his thick cock causing a protrusion in your throat. 

It was hard on you though, taking him this way while simultaneously having Changkyun pumping into you. You couldn’t writhe and moan in the way you needed to. But you were being good – whatever Wonwoo wanted. Whatever they wanted. 

Feeling him hard and leaking in your throat was enough to kill you, especially when he would look down at you when he pulled out, jaw dropped open as he took in your messy appearance. Even with the face he put on when he was dominating you, he could never fully hide the way you drove him crazy. 

Cursing between breaths, your eyes locked with Wonwoo’s as Changkyun fucked into you harder, wrapping an arm around you to hold your hips down, and hooking his fingers in a way that had you crying out nonsensically. 

“You’re such a fucking mess, baby. You like his fingers that much?” He rubbed his tip over your tongue that was once again obediently awaiting him, before pulling back. “Or you just like being used this much?” He smirked at your fucked-out nod, your eyes falling shut as the next moan was shook from you. 

“Gonna come? Can’t even keep still,” you heard Changkyun chastise, leaning more weight onto the hand he had pinned across your body. 

It put pressure on your lower stomach, making everything more intense, the drag of his fingers overwhelming as you tightened around him. Wonwoo’s grip on your throat tightened too and before you knew it, you were coming, practically gushing around Changkyun’s fingers as you cried out, zero perception of how loud you were being, your hands flying to yank on the sheets on either side of you. 

“Good girl,” one of them said, so low you could practically feel it, but in your haze their deep voices were interchangeable. 

You were still wiggling under Changyun’s hold, taking his unrelenting ministrations, still shivering in pleasure, still disoriented, when you felt Wonwoo’s hand move to your jaw, a brief warning before his dick was pressing at your lips, opening them easily to push in again. 

“Keep going. Being such a good little toy now.” He was being nice, using your lips that you were suctioning as best you could, using your tongue that you were trying to remember to work, guiding himself not too deep into you over and over until he too was moaning. 

When you came down to earth and the fingers in your pussy became too much, you reached for your friend’s hand, grabbing at his wrist blindly. But he just pushed you away, holding your wrist tightly to your tummy as he continued his pace, not even bothering to slow down to give you a chance to recover. 

You moaned out your disagreement, slight alarm even, at the intense feeling but it was like it barely met his ears, muffled by Wonwoo sliding into your mouth again and cooing at you that you could take it.

He knew you could; he knew you so well. He’d pushed you far. He also knew that you would tap his leg three times if you really needed them to stop. Had that been something he’d told Changkyun too? 

When you heard a sharp pftoo, it was followed by another glob hitting your clit. He pulled his fingers out for a moment to collect the extra lubrication before pushing them in again, now with three instead of two, flipping to be palm up. 

“Ahh,” you gasped out around the cock in your mouth, quickly losing your mind to the point where you could barely do your job anymore. No, now you really were just a hole for Wonwoo to use, fucking himself into your mouth as every muscle in your body contracted, a sudden pressure so strong at the way Changkyun’s perfect fingers were back to abusing your g-spot. 

Once again, you could hear the wetness of your orgasm, his fingers pumping in and out at lightning speed as he drew out your euphoria. The pleasure shot out from your core, to your fingertips, to your tiptoes. All you could do was sob around Wonwoo’s cock as he came too, one hand bracing gently on your chest as the other jerked himself through it, keeping just the tip between your lips. 

“Fucking– ughhh,” he groaned, the thick cum hitting your tongue and being quickly swallowed down in your effort not to choke. When he was done, he pulled away, the final dribbles of his release getting smeared on your cheek before he was wiping it up with a finger to push into your mouth. 

Finally, Changkyun was slowing his movements but you were still shuddering, attempting to babble at him that it was enough. 

“You wanted him so bad. You’re gonna take whatever he gives you. I know you can take a lot, baby.”

The words didn’t really sink in. Your eyes were still closed, your body finally able to relax down into the mattress now that Changkyun had stopped moving his hand, seemingly adjusting himself on the bed from the way it was dipping. 

Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with the wet warmth of a tongue enveloping your clit, swiping over it in broad strokes, and you could feel his fingers pressing against your front wall rhythmically. He couldn’t really be trying to get you to come again, could he?

“Ah, god. It’s– it’s too much–”

But then, just when you felt like you were going to have to push him away, the surge of pleasure was hitting you. He was pulling against the inside of you just right, mixing it with the suction on your clit, making you moan desperately for him again, your fingers tangling in his hair for grounding. 

“Fuck! Kyun–” Your words were strangled, messy, completely involuntary. “Oh my god, I’m coming again, I’m coming, I’m coming–” you rambled, turning it into a whiny sob when you started to run out of breath. You couldn’t help the way you were rolling your hips up against his face, your back arching off the bed and your hand still gripping tightly in place so he wouldn’t dare stop – not until your third high had run its course. 

It was only once you’d collapsed into jelly that he backed off, removing his fingers and leaving you with one final lick of your arousal, gathering it on his tongue and swallowing it down as you lifted your head to stare down at him in disbelief.

Now you were truly a mess, eyes still watery around the edges and your chest heaving from the exertion simply from coming that hard. 

He smirked, licking at his fingers as he sat up onto his knees, letting you get a good look at the large tent in his pants. Fuuuck. 

But you were so fucking spent already. “I can’t, I can’t,” you whispered with a shake of your head.

“He knows what he’s doing, baby.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you said under your breath but they both heard you because Changkyun let out a sexy little chuckle and Wonwoo was smirking at you as he came back over from where his bag sat, chucking a condom onto the sheets beside you. 

“Remember when you said you were going to do everything I say? That means taking everything that we’re giving you, pretty girl.” He climbed on the bed as Changkyun climbed off to undress. “I’m being so nice right now. So you don’t get to fight it.” 

“I… I already came three times,” you said exasperated but your voice was soft, hoping it would help you attain the pity you were looking for. 

“So?” he asked uncaringly, pushing his eyebrows up at you and shrugging. Well, clearly this wasn’t going to go in your favour. 

“So... it’s a lot…” you said even more pathetically, sitting up shakily and reaching out for him to come closer. 

He did so immediately, helping you so you were both kneeling on the bed, your hands slipping over the defined muscles of his abdomen. “Yeah, but I don’t care.” It came out so patronizingly sweet, the chosen words in complete contradiction to his tone and the way he was gently holding you steady in front of him. 

Crazily, it sent a wave of arousal through you, straight to your swollen, sensitive cunt, forcing out a little frustrated whimper from you. 

“My needy little slut wants a cock so bad that she’s willing to fuck my best friend. But now that she gets it, it’s too much. Is that right? Is it too much, baby?” he carried on, now in a much more commanding tone, looking over to Changkyun who had settled near the two of you on the bed, then back to you. 

Your chin tipped up, asking for a kiss as you tried to tug him closer. 

“Answer the question, baby.”

“No…” you said through a pout.

“No, what?”

“It’s not too much.”

He took hold of your jaw. “So, you’re going to be good?”

Your tongue wet your lips as you nodded in his grip. “Can I have a kiss, baby? Please?”

“Open,” was all he said then you were doing so, sticking out your tongue for him once again so he could spit on it forcefully. He waited a moment, admiring you and your puppy dog eyes, mouth wide open like a good little girl, before he closed it with a press of his fingers under your chin and instructed you to swallow. 

As soon as you had done so, he was pulling you into a deep kiss, the feeling a shattering relief in your system. He was familiar; he was home. Even when he was treating you like this because he knew you loved it, he was your ultimate comfort. With a hum of satisfaction, you kissed him back eagerly, hands wrapping around the sides of his neck as you pushed your body flush with his. 

“Take his dick and don’t complain,” he said when he pulled back, pushing you softly away from him and towards his friend who was now tearing open the condom with his teeth. 

“You sure, man?” Changkyun asked casually as he slid it on. It was the first moment you actually took in his dick and how big it was. How it rivalled Wonwoo in length and girth. And how it was about to ruin you. 

“Do whatever you want. She wants to get used? Use her.” 

Again, you found yourself gulping, your heart speeding up at the mean words. You wanted it so bad but Changkyun made you nervous. Clearly he was relentless in the same way your boyfriend was. And yes, you trusted him as a friend. But this was all new.

“How do you want it?” he asked you, catching you off guard as you came closer, taking in the gorgeous lines of his built physique. Before you could answer, a hand was sliding up your neck so he could take hold of your hair and use it to turn your face up towards him and his apathetic eyes. “Hmm?”

How had you ended up in bed with someone even colder than your boyfriend? Fuck, you liked it so much. The thought distracted you, keeping you from answering. 

“Fine. I’ll choose,” he said, letting go of his hold so he could spin you around, a hand coming down on your back to push you onto your hands and knees. 

Even with how spent you were from the previous orgasms, your knees quickly spread a little wider as you lowered yourself onto your forearms, presenting yourself as if you were the birthday gift. 

“Such a pathetic little slut. Just wanted to get fucked so bad,” Changkyun taunted as his hand caressed your ass cheek, pulling you open for him as he directed his cock to rub over your slick lips. 

“God,” you sighed out a moan, swaying back in search of more.

“You just love being talked down to, don’t you?” he said amusedly as he leaned over your back and pushed down on the back of your neck, retreating his length away from you. “Fuck…”

Right away you were whining, not prepared for him to tease after how the night had gone so far. Normally Wonwoo teased you so much, made sure you were capable of being a patient good girl for him. Tonight, you’d been spoiled. 

“I told you. She fucking loves it.”

Your head turned to look at Wonwoo as you tried to comprehend his words. But as much as you wanted to say something, present your disdain for your sex life being shared so openly, deep down you just found it hot. Because it was him and Changkyun. And the idea of them talking about you like that made you feel strangely powerful, filling both of their minds in such a way.

And, there was the fact that you were so thoroughly in a submissive headspace. You couldn’t talk back to Wonwoo if you tried. 

“Arch your back for me,” came next and you did just that, pressing your chest to the bed and lifting as best you could for Changkyun’s hands to caress the globes of your ass. 

“I told you, she’s perfect,” Wonwoo spoke up, settling beside you so you could see him where you had your head turned. 

Changkyun chuckled. “You did say that. Many times.” His tip was teasing at your hole again, dipping inside marginally before brushing over your clit to make you jerk slightly. “You didn’t know that, baby, did you? That your boyfriend tells me about how perfect your pussy is all the time?”

When you turned slightly to look up at him, Wonwoo was watching your reaction unworried, hand reaching out to stroke your hair. “I only say good things, I promise.” 

Your brows pulled into a wince, your body reacting more to the sensations than to any big revelations going on. At this point, you really didn’t care. You just needed him inside of you. Why was he still not inside of you? “Please. Feel so empty,” you whined softly. 

Changkyun cursed under his breath, pushing into you a little before pulling back. “That was so cute, it almost worked.”

Everything he said was making your stomach flip but the word ‘cute’ coming from his lips to describe you was doing even more. “Please, please,” you whispered out a few more times, using your last few brain cells in the best way you could imagine.

He groaned again, gripping harder where his hands sat on your hips. Wonwoo laughed at him and you almost smiled. 

“Changkyun-ah…” you breathed. “Want you please.”

“That’s how she gets you.”

“Such a good girl. Asking so nicely,” Changkyun praised as he pushed in again, this time granting you a few rock-hard inches. 

“Oh my god,” you choked out, your body tipping forward a bit, retreating from the intense stretch. 

“Nuh-uh-uh-” Wonwoo sounded, leaning forward to place a firm hand on your back – a clear direct that you were to stay in place. 

“Be good,” Changkyun said firmly at the same time. 

With that, you did so as best you could, face smushing into the mattress as you stayed still, hands scrunched up in the sheets, taking everything he gave you as he slid in further. 

“Fuck, good fucking girl.” Now, Changkyun was even more talkative, words slipping out effortlessly at the feel of you. “How are you so tight around me still? Did you not already come three times? What the fuck?”

Your reply was simply a wavering moan as he bottomed out in you, his hands pulling your hips back against his pelvis until he was pressed in as far as he could possibly go. “I–” you squeaked out before stopping yourself. 

“Don’t say it’s too much, baby. I won’t be happy with you.”

“But–” you started to say but you shut yourself up when Changkyun started to move, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back into your sensitive warmth. 

“But what?” he asked from behind you, sliding in again and again until you couldn’t even process either of them speaking to you. It felt so fucking good after him making you wait, your perpetual arousal making him slip in a little easier and allowing that squelching sound a reappearance. "You can take it."

It was practically unfair how easy it was for both of them to get you like this. Changkyun knew how to fuck you as if he’d done it a hundred times. 

He’d barely been pumping into you for two minutes before you were already on the brink, endless pathetic sounds coming from you as you took him deep, any discomfort from the rough handling earlier disappearing as your cunt pulsed around him. 

Wonwoo was laid beside you now, whispering more dirty shit into your ear as his fingers tucked into your hair once again – they’d talked about you so much, about how much Changkyun would enjoy ruining you too, about how you thrived on being dominated… It was no wonder that he would always look at you the way he did; he’d already fucked you in his head a thousand times over. 

Breathy moans fell from you with each word. It was too good. Wonwoo knew just how to talk to have you clenching around his friend’s cock so hard that it almost hurt, making more tears spring to your eyes. 

Changkyun cursed behind you, fucking you even harder at the sound of your whimpers. “She’s gripping me so tight, Jesus Christ,” he groaned out with effort. 

When Wonwoo pulled back to be able to slip two fingers into your mouth, you knew – and he knew too – you were about to be done for. Because as soon as you were done dutifully sucking them, coating them in your spit, he was reaching under you and finding your clit to rub in quick circles.

You gasped but nothing else came out as you came hard for both of them, jaw dropped open as you pressed your forehead down into the mattress, holding tightly to whatever you could. 

While Wonwoo’s hand worked furiously, Changkyun just fucked you harder, low moans coming out of him at the feeling of your walls spasming around his length. 

“Good girl… Coming so good for us,” Wonwoo praised. “You like my friend’s cock? Just needed a dick? Any dick to get off on?”

You were still in another world but you felt yourself shake your head as if it was someone else. 

“No, that’s right. I know you wanted his. Is it as good as you thought, baby?” he asked, the taunting tone so evident in his voice. “Is it better than mine? Or is mine still the best you’ve ever had?”

You knew you shouldn’t answer. You couldn’t talk anyway, not with the way they were both carrying on, not giving you a spare second for your body to come down and reset. No, Changkyun was still rolling into you, not as hard but still sliding in steadily while Wonwoo fondled your clit between his fingers. 

Your body writhed but it wasn’t sure whether to go towards the stimulation or away. When you finally could speak, all you could get out was a tired: “Oh my god.”

“I know, baby, I know.” So condescending that it thrilled you all over again. “But Changkyun-ah’s not done.”

You whimpered, the sensations grating on you now, despite them not being painful. Still, Wonwoo’s fingers were doing wonders to soothe, swirling over your clit just right, until you were melting into the bed.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, helping you to lift your head and turn it to kiss him. It set you alight again; something you would never get tired of, Wonwoo’s soft lips moving over yours so tenderly. 

When you moaned into the kiss at the brush of his tongue, you tightened once again, pulling more sounds from the man behind you. 

“One more. Come for me once more, Y/N-ah, then I’ll come for you.” 

You could hear the strain in his husky voice but he still sounded far too held together for everything that was going on. Apparently, like his best friend, he too had superior self-control. 

While you couldn’t fathom coming again, Wonwoo disagreed, pulling back from the kiss to look into your shiny eyes. “One more, baby. Give him one more for me. You’re so wet, dripping all over my hand. My little whore. I know you can give us one more.”

Your immediate reaction was to pout at his serious face, your head easily falling back to the bed with the jerks of your body. 

But then Changkyun was directing your hips back a bit more, lowering them slightly so he could hit a different angle, a somehow better angle, once that made him feel bigger inside of you. “Here, like this. Fuck – does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding eagerly as the feeling overtook you, making you see stars. Then you were gasping again as he hit into that spot harder: “Oh fuck!”

Wonwoo’s lips found your neck, sucking harshly at the skin, making up for how unblemished it had been recently. Doubling down, he used his free hand to pinch your nipple, trying to send you into sensory overload and succeeding.

More moans; this time from both of you as Changkyun got close as well. But you couldn’t worry about him because suddenly you were coming again, the wave hitting you so hard and fast that not a single one of you seemed to expect it. 

“Ahh, fuuuuck, god–” Body tingling, you shook in place, your legs about to give out, hip flexors on fire from the effort to keep yourself up. But it was so good that it was somehow worth it, all the dopamine coursing through your veins making you feel like you were floating. 

As you tensed, riding out the feeling, his thrusts faltered, the start of his release meeting the end of yours with the way he pushed deep and held himself there. 

With a few throaty curses, he spilled into the condom, staying enveloped in your tight grip for an extra minute as the both of you tried to catch your breath. 

“Good job, baby,” Wonwoo praised softly. “Such a good girl.”

You were sticky; you were sore – but none of that compared to the buzz still flowing through you. Not just from the orgasm but from the whole thing. You were so tired, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you were dreaming, about to wake up in a groggy state next to the two drunk friends you were supposed to have shared this bed with. 

Wonwoo was watching you, thumb brushing over the mark he’d left on your neck before moving to push back the strands of hair that were slipping into your face. “You good, love?” he asked softly, careful eyes watching you as you took in a deep breath, not fully there yet. 

When Changkyun pulled out of you gently, your body slipped down until it was flat on the mattress, the soreness in your hips aching for a moment at the release of tension before it started to subside. 

It wasn’t surprising when he didn’t say anything else, disappearing to chuck the condom before coming back onto the bed with his boxers replaced. He sat on the other side of you, watching as Wonwoo embraced you, kissing your forehead, cheeks, nose. 

“I’m good.” You smiled warmly at his affections, sleepy eyes taking slow blinks before you were able to focus them on him. “So, so good.”

He seemed to like that, his face softening at the words and the way you were looking at him. “Mm, I fucking love you,” he said, all cutely aggressive before he was pressing another kiss to your lips. Satisfied, he rolled onto his back, one hand coming up to run through his hair while the other lingered on you. 

Feeling the need to move your shaky body, and wanting to be able to see Changkyun again in the process, you flipped over as well. When you looked at him, laying a hand on his bare knee and giving it a tiny squeeze, he looked at you a little surprised. 

“Hey,” you breathed, not really sure what to say but wanting to say something. You’d all been so caught up in the lust and excitement – now all that was left was the actual fallout of every insane decision that had been made in the last hour. 

“Hey,” he said in his awkward way, almost suspiciously, though he didn’t seem nervous at all. His gaze dropped to your hand before meeting your eyes once more. 

You couldn’t help the little breath of laughter that came out. This was all ridiculous. You pulled yourself up, making sure you didn’t feel too dizzy before pushing off the bed onto your feet. Yep, you were definitely going to be sore. 

They both watched you as you tiptoed to find your clothes that had been whipped around, pulling on enough to cover you before you slipped out of the door to go find the bathroom. 

Being alone while you peed, it made it easy to worry about what happened now. But instead of allowing yourself to speculate, you hurried back to the room, walking in and shutting the door swiftly behind you to find the two of them chatting and laughing as they pulled on their own clothes. 

Now, you felt nervous but in a different way. In a butterflies way. 

“Yeah, we'll see,” is the last thing that Wonwoo said before he was looking at you expectantly, switching his attention. 

You walked right to him, clinging to his side as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hi baby,” he greeted, thumb rubbing over your shoulder where he held you. “Go on,” he whispered, loosening his grip for you to climb on the bed, knowing he’d follow, knowing he cared to be extra attentive after something like that. “How do you feel?” he asked, settling against the headboard as you curled up on him, his arms circling your waist. 

“All good,” you assured, enjoying the warmth around you as your eyes settled on Changkyun.

He was standing at the corner of the bed, hands finding his pockets once more, looking at the two of you. 

“You can come here, you know,” you said after a moment, feeling like something would be unresolved inside of you until you felt him on you too. 

It felt far too weird to just go back to giving each other looks after that. The remnants of your last orgasm hadn’t even fully settled inside of you and he was standing six feet away like he hadn’t just been responsible for every single one of them. 

He shot you a look, brow quirking up, looking so handsome all of a sudden. “Where the fuck do you want me to go?”

“Right here,” you offered casually, opening your arms to him. “We’re all entitled to a bit of aftercare, I would think.”

His lip twitched, his gaze darting to Wonwoo.

“As long as that’s ok with you,” you added over your shoulder upon realizing you were taking a startling amount of liberties in your relationship in one day. 

“It’s not like either of you would listen to me anyway,” he said flatly but he squeezed you a bit tighter. Changkyun’s little smile – like he was suppressing it a bit – confirmed that Wonwoo was just teasing once more. 

When he climbed on and crawled over, now apparently comically unsure how to move around you, you had to actually pull him down on you to get him to settle, letting him rest back against your chest. 

“This is so weird.”

“Shush,” you admonished softly before nuzzling into the embrace on both sides of you, his upper body too broad for you to really wrap around him well. “You wanted to fuck me? This is what comes with it.”

You could feel the little chuckle he let out before he finally let the weight of his head rest back against your sternum. 

“Ok then,” he gave in quietly and you were surprised at the relief you felt. 

Wonwoo kissed your hair before whispering into your ear: “You’re cute.”

It made you giggle. “Obviously, we need to talk about this…”

“Mm,” Wonwoo agreed noncommittally. 

“Mostly, I feel like you need to say something.”

“Mm,” he sounded out again, more like a grumble. This whole situation was a surprise to you but Wonwoo’s lack of desire to talk it to pieces wasn’t. 

“Or don’t,” you added, laughing once more. “Just thought you might… have some thoughts.”

Changkyun just listened, a hand coming to play with your fingers where they laid on his clothed torso. 

“I love you,” Wonwoo said after a moment.

“I love you,” you said through a smile, turning your head slightly to kiss his shoulder. 

“Don’t leave me for Changkyun.”

Another chuckle. “I’m not leaving you for anyone.”

“Then we’re good.”

“See, I told you we’re good,” you said, tapping your hand lightly on Changkyun’s abdomen.

“And I told you he’d forgive you,” he replied right away.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as your arms unconsciously cuddled him closer. Then you felt him grasp your hand in his, still leaving it where it was. 

“So, is this happening again or…?” he asked, voice completely neutral. 

You turned your head once more, a signal to Wonwoo that he was expected to speak. 

“Mm,” he hummed once more, sounding sleepier now as his head came forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. “We’ll figure out how it’ll work in the morning.”

“Really?” you asked quietly. 

“Someone needs to take care of you when I’m too busy,” he said simply, like it was terribly obvious. 

Your toes wiggled involuntarily, the embarrassing habit betraying your happiness. It made Wonwoo let out a deep chuckle. 

“Cute,” Changkyun said, twisting his leg to knock against your foot.

With a squeeze of his hand, you shushed him and smiled.

A/N: clearly i really struggle to write just smut. like i just get attached to the characters and want there to be something deeper or give them some kind of happy ending or life after whatever i’m writing. so sorry if the ending stuff feels random. i just felt like i had to have some kind of resolution between the three of them for my own sake! especially after the smut being a bit more intense… so yeah! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did 💕

Tag List: @nabiolive @the-boy-meets-evil @here4btsfics @seonghwassy

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Reblogs are way more helpful than likes! Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it <3

[knucklesdeepmingi]

GOOD GOD 10/10

[mint-yooxgi]

Morning Mist Mini Masterlist

“With the dawn of a new day brings new light, new hope, and new possessions. Let us drown you in the fires of our passion until all you have left is us.”

➢ Chapter One

➢ Chapter Two

➢ Chapter Three

➢ Chapter Four

➢ Chapter Five

➢ Chapter Six

➢ Chapter Seven

➢ Chapter Eight

➢ Chapter Nine

➢ Chapter Ten

➢ Chapter Eleven

➢ Chapter Twelve

[knucklesdeepmingi]

Really good story so far, can’t wait for more updates:)

[mint-yooxgi]

To Tempt Fate Mini Masterlist

“Escape is futile. Not when we’ve had you in our clutches since the very moment we set our sights on you.”

➢ To Tempt Fate

➢ Part Two

➢ Part Three

➢ Part Four

➢ Part Five

➢ Part Six

➢ Part Seven

[knucklesdeepmingi]

GOD THIS THING IS ALREADY SO GOOD I CANT WAIT FOR UPDATES

[mint-yooxgi]

Paradise Gardens Mini Masterlist

“Eternity means nothing if I don’t have you.”

Book Two of Hotel California

➢ Paradise Gardens

[knucklesdeepmingi]

CANNOT wait for more updates on this story

[potatomountain]

“Fallen Crown” Masterlist

Captured prince Yeosang[Ateez] x “tainted” Princess fem!reader

Mini Series. Synopsis:

You were the Disgraced Princess, no longer pure or of any use to your Father- your kingdom, outside of entertainment in his beloved Gladiator Arena.

He was the captured commander of a neighboring Kingdom, a Prince whose punishment for his war crimes against your own Kingdom were to fight in the Arena you had become a “hostess” for.

With the irony of your tainted titles, your fates became entwined, both fighting more than the foes pitted against you for the crowd’s pleasure. Especially at the prospect of becoming star-crossed lovers.

Chapters:

1: The Fall      2: Fate Sealed     3: (coming Soon)

also, taglist (message or ask to be on): @lelaleleb / @hwaightme-recs /  @candypop1611  / @inkpot-winters / @avantalem

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Reblogging to save for later

[hongism]

mists of celeste masterlist

𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖆𝖚!𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖟

pairing: ??? x fem reader; side mxm pairings throughout genre: scifi/space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut, fluff rating: M/18+ warnings: language, violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood, injuries, talk of past trauma, smut, depictions of anxiety depression and ptsd summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you. current length: 415,556 words [☉] ongoing

note: it is advised that you read the interim chapters after completing all the chapters in the act rather than reading them based off number order. they are based around the relationships between the crew and interactions they share. also note that some of the interim chapters and perhaps regular chapters will contain mxm content. if you do not enjoy reading this content, then i advise you to avoid the series.

classified documents

teaser one | class system | playlist | references | planet guides

character directories

hongjoong | seonghwa | yunho | yeosang | san | mingi | unknown | jongho | mc

nightingale | papillon de la mort

act one - primitia (beginnings) - words: 49,124

start here: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10

interim chapters: chapter 0.5 | chapter 3.5 | chapter 10.5

act two - iustitia (justice) - words: 56,168

chapter 11 | chapter 12 | chapter 13 | chapter 14 | chapter 15 | chapter 16 | chapter 17 | chapter 18

interim chapters: chapter 17.5 | chapter 18.5

act three - consectatio acervi (pursuit of treasure) - words: 47,441

chapter 19 | chapter 20 | chapter 21 | chapter 22 | chapter 23 | chapter 24 | chapter 25

interim chapters: chapter 22.5 | chapter 23.5

act four - renovamen bestia (rebirth of a beast) - words: 68,065

chapter 26 | chapter 27 | chapter 28 | chapter 29 | chapter 30 | chapter 31 | chapter 32 | chapter 33

interim chapters: chapter 26.5 | chapter 33.5

act five - cinis cinerem (ashes to ashes) - words: 141,616

chapter 34 | chapter 35 | chapter 36 | chapter 37 | chapter 38 | chapter 39 | chapter 40 | chapter 41

interim chapters: chapter 37.5 | chapter 40.5 | chapter 41.5

act six - magis denudantis iudicia occulta (unveiling secrets) - words: 112,049

chapter 42 | chapter 43 | chapter 44 | chapter 45 | chapter 46 | chapter 47 | chapter 48

interim chapters: chapter 44.5 | chapter 47.5

act seven - contritus (crushed by guilt) - words: -

chapter 49 | chapter 50 | chapter 51 | chapter 52 | chapter 53 | chapter 54 | chapter 55 | chapter 56

interim chapters: chapter 49.5 (hongjoong) | chapter 51.5 (san)

[knucklesdeepmingi]

Keeping this close bc it’s so good but damn I need to reread it😭