#ash writes

The wedding hall hums with excitement, but Seungcheol doesn’t hear a damn thing.

He is pacing the hallway, fists clenching and unclenching, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Not because he’s nervous about marrying you. Hell no. He has been ready for it since the moment you said yes. No, he’s on edge because he can’t see you yet.

“She’s not gonna disappear, you know,” Jeonghan says from his spot by the mirror, adjusting his tie. “You’re marrying her in like, twenty minutes.”

“I know,” Seungcheol mutters under his breath, eyes flicking towards the corridor where your bridal suite is. “I just… need to see her.”

Jeonghan freezes mid-adjustment. “You’re thinking of breaking the no-seeing-the-bride rule?”

“Rules don’t apply today,” Seungcheol says, already moving.

You’re standing in front of the mirror, fussing with a hairpin when the door creaks open behind you.

Your maid of honour gasps. “Cheol?! You can’t be in here! You’re gonna jinx it!”

You turn around, half-panicked, half-speechless. And there he is, your almost-husband, in his perfectly tailored grey suit, looking way too handsome. His eyes find yours and everything else fades.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, stepping in and closing the door behind him as your maid of honour steps out to give you some privacy. “I just couldn’t wait.”

“Cheol,” you scold, but it comes out soft, your heart stuttering in your chest. “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony—”

“Then sue me,” he interrupts, voice low, stepping closer to you. “Because the moment I imagined you in that dress, just minutes away from being my wife… I couldn’t think about anything else and I had to see you.”

You blush as he stops in front of you, his fingers brushing lightly down your bare arm, then resting at your waist. His gaze burns through the layers of lace like it’s nothing.

“Cheol—” you whisper, but he cuts you off, pressing his forehead gently against yours.

“No matter how incredible you look in this dress right now, and God, baby, you do—" His voice dips into a growl. "I can’t wait to take it off tonight.”

You suck in a breath, cheeks flushed and your heart racing wildly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins, that boyish, cocky smile you fell for years ago. “I’m in love. It’s incurable.”

Just then, you hear a knock on the door, Joshua’s voice calling, “We’re starting soon!”

“I have to leave you now?" He pouts dramatically. "I don't want to"

You smile, stepping onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You get to marry me in like ten minutes.”

“Still not sure how I got so lucky.” Seungcheol presses a lingering kiss to your hand, eyes locked with yours. “You ready to be mine forever?”

You nod, barely managing to speak. “I already am.”

As he slips out of the room, he turns back for one last look. “I’ll try not to cry when I see you walk down the aisle.”

And he fails miserably.

Your moans are stifled as you press your face against the pillow. Lucifer's pace is relentless and although he can be rough in general, tonight feels different. There's something far more carnal and possessive in the way Lucifer thrusts into you. His movements are done so with reckless abandon, a stark contrast to how he usually takes you.

"Y-you Lucifer!" you gasp, body shaking from the intense pleasure coursing through your body. You yelp and moan out his name as he runs a hand through your scalp, pulling your face so that you're staring at him, his hands having a firm grip on your hair. "I can't hear you, louder," he commands you, your faces practically centimeters away from each other.

"You Lucifer!" you sob, feeling his large hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you down against the mattress. Lucifer smirks, his other hand trailing down to your neck, holding you there firmly. "That's right my love, me. Not my brothers and certainly not that shady sorcerer," he practically spits out those last words. Lucifer's head falls back as he continues to thrust roughly into you, feeling himself close to his release.

You can feel yourself tightening around him, and you arch your back, body shaking as your orgasm washes over you. Lucifer lets out a low moan, making a few more shallow thrusts into you before spilling his seed into your hole. Chest heaving, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his release trickles out of you. Taking two fingers, he trails them up your inner thighs, causing you to jump from how sensitive you were after your high. Lucifer takes his fingers and takes the excess that spills out, prodding it back in.

"Keep that in there my love, it's proof that you're mine after all, if not, I'll have to punish you a bit more unfortunately. You can do that, can't you?"

Mammon [💰💛]

Someone thought flirting with you at the casino was a good idea.

"Dammit, you drive me crazy y'know?"

Your legs are currently wrapped around Mammon's waist, goosebumps littering your skin as you feel the wall against your back, your shirt long discarded. Your arms are wrapped securely around Mammon's neck for support. Mammon kisses you roughly, hungrily, as if he were scared of you running away or disappearing from right in front of him.

"That damn incubus," he hisses, pushing into you, "Thinking they have anything on the Great Mammon. You're my lucky charm, no one else's." His teeth scrape at your neck as he leaves mark after mark. You're pretty sure your back is rubbed raw from how fast and hard Mammon is thrusting into you, and your legs shake around Mammon's waist, but despite this Mammon holds you securely, his grip on your thighs giving you enough support.

"Mammon!" you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and you can hear Mammon gasp, groan, and curse with each thrust he makes. Judging by how loud the two of you were being, you had no doubt that the entire casino knew that you were getting fucked hard by Mammon.

"You're mine alright? Mine, mine, mine, my treasure," he whispers in your ear, and he accentuates each of his words with a slap of his hips against yours. Your moans become louder and you can practically feel yourself on the verge of releasing onto him.

"Mine." And with one last word, Mammon makes one last thrust up into you, hitting your most sensitive spot and you practically go limp in his arms as your orgasm washes over you. Mammon's hips slowly still, and he checks over you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I won't let anyone take you from me alright? Much less some random incubus who thinks they can steal my treasure from me."

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

You showed him your duo in an online game.

"Levi, they're just a friend!" You gasp softly as he pushes you into his bathtub, a pout on his face. Immediately, he presses himself up against you, rubbing his cheek against your exposed collarbone. "I don't care," he grumbles softly, one hand snaking up to pin your hands above your head, his other hand trailing underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. "I should be the only one to carry you, not anyone else. You're my player 2, my Henry," he nips at your shoulder and you shudder, feeling yourself grow aroused from the close proximity and from his touches.

"I don't care if they're ranked number one, I'll prove I'm better than them by beating them!" His pupils are dilated as he looks at you below him, and he can't help the sudden ache and the growing tent in his pants. Gasping softly, he starts grinding up against you, and you can't help but reach up for him, pulling his hips flush against yours, in search of some very much needed friction to relieve the tension you're feeling.

Both of your gasps can be heard, and you're pretty sure that if Levi didn't soundproof his room, anyone walking outside could probably hear just how heated the two of you were getting. You tighten your grasp on him, your hands snaking up to tug at the back of his hair cause Levi to moan against you as he kisses you roughly.

You stare up at him blearily, not even realizing when he shifted into his demon form. Shivering, one of your hands move from the back of his head, down to his abdomen and Levi jerks in your grasp, a flush painting his pale face.

"Do you know how badly I want you? Please don't give your attention to others, just stay focused on me."

Satan [😾💚]

Gets riled up because he sees Lucifer closer to you than he'd like.

Your chest heaves from exertion as Satan brings you to your umpteenth release. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times Satan has made you come. His bangs stick to his forehead as he dives back between your legs, sucking marks along your inner thighs, his grip digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging on the golden strands and you feel Satan groan, his moans sending vibrations down your core. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. "Satan no more please! I can't take it anymore," you whimper softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of your vision. Satan only laughs looking up at you, using a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. "Nono, we're not finished yet," his voice is dangerously soft as he stares at you, body trembling underneath his gaze. His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow as he pulls your bottom closer to him, once again positioning himself between your legs. "I can still smell him on you and I intend to erase every trace of Lucifer from you, from your mind, and from your body. Understand?"

You slowly nod, your thighs quivering either from anticipation or overstimulation, you weren't sure at this point anymore.

Satan smiles as he licks a stripe up where you're most sensitive, and your body jerks still sensitive from all your orgasming from earlier. You squirm to get your body away from him but his grip holds tight to you.

"Stay right where you are. I thoroughly intend to take my time with you tonight."

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Your fans started getting too touchy with you.

Asmo isn't one to get jealous easily....not usually.

However, today was supposed to be about just you and him and it frustrated him to no end seeing your fans flock over to you, occupying all of your time. Asmo's eyes narrow as he watches them practically latch themselves onto you, and you barely pushing them away, laughing it off lightly. You're shocked by his sudden actions, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd and down a secluded alleyway. His silence is rather unsettling, and there's a strange gleam in his eyes.

.....

"A-Asmo slow down!" You gasp out, feeling your back pressed against the wall, and Asmo's gaze trained on you, his hands sliding up your arms, pinning them above your head. You shiver, feeling his breath grace the outer shell of your ear, and you unintentionally tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to slot his face into your neck.

"Do you love me?" His question catches you off guard and you stare at him quizzically. "What? Of course I do." you frown slightly pulling on your hands, but Asmo holds your hands in place firmly. He presses his body against yours, and you gasp slightly, feeling his knee pressing against your crotch. "You sure seemed to be having fun entertaining those fans of yours. While I don't mind everyone fawning over you, today was just supposed to be about me and you was it not?" He has a slight pout on his face, lip jutting out.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide. If you were being honest, Asmo was adorable, especially with that little pout on his face. "It's not like you to be this jealous," you laugh a little, your face flushing. You feel him press your body more against the wall, and you have to suppress the urge to let out a moan as he continues grinding his leg against where you're most sensitive. His hand snakes past the waistband of your pants and you nearly keel over from his touch, leaning against him for support.

"I'm only like this for you, and no one else."

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

His Fangol teammates were far friendlier to you than he'd like.

Your throat is sore, but that's a given considering you had spent the good part of the last few hours screaming out Beel's name, cheering him on after he scored point after point. What you certainly didn't forsee was you practically folded over one of the benches in the locker room, Beel holding one of your legs wide open as he thrusts into you roughly. The way you're positioned, if someone were to open the door to the locker room would end up seeing you sprawled out as Beel rammed himself against you.

"S-slow down Beel! It's too much!" Your head falls back, and you feel like you're being split apart by how big he is. Normally, Beel is much more gentle, taking his time with you but it seems that in the heat of the moment, he chose to forgo any sense of moderation.

"I don't like that my teammates got too close to you," he grunts, hips stuttering as he pulls you closer, his chest heaving from exertion. Ah that's right, he's referring to his teammates that immediately crowded around you to thank you for cheering so fervently for them. You remember the way Beel watched you from outside the crowd, his expression unreadable. You can recall conversing with his fellow teammates before feeling a pair of hands loop around your waist, pulling you towards them....which somehow led to the situation that you were currently in.

Beel's grip on your thigh is borderline painful, and you're sure that there'll be marks there come tomorrow from how roughly he's currently manhandling you. You reach up grasping at his arm, momentarily causing his movements to falter as he looks at you, temporarily shaken out of his frenzy. "Beel slow down please, I swear I only have eyes for you," you whimper softly, your legs shaking. His expression softens as he stares down at you, leaning over to press an apologetic kiss to your forehead. His motions are slower now, you notice, and there's a tenderness in the way he holds onto you now, one hand pressed against your waist, the other still holding onto your thigh but much less tight now.

"Sorry, you drive me crazy. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Your project partner was getting too buddy-buddy with you.

"Hahh, fuck you're so tight~"

Belphie practically hisses this in your ear as he sinks into you, bent over one of the desks in an empty classroom. The surface is cold against your front, your RAD uniform unbuttoned, and shirt pushed up as Belphie leans entirely against you. Your knuckles are white from how hard they're gripping the desk, meanwhile, Belphie has a good grasp on you from behind, his hand tugging at your scalp.

Your back arches as he thrusts into you, using your head as leverage, and you're pretty sure everyone outside has a pretty good idea of what's going on, based on how loudly the desk is scraping against the floor. Your gasp, shoulders hunched as you hold onto desperately to the desk. Belphie's tail flicks irritably as he watches your expression. "Enjoying this are you? Do you really like everyone outside knowing how I'm using you right now? Let them know how desperate you are for me to fuck you dumb like this. Go on, moan louder why don't you."

Your heart pounds in your chest and you let out shuddering breaths as Belphie's hips snap against you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "The door's unlocked, and anyone could walk in right now and see the two of us like this. Are you getting off to this? To the idea of others seeing what a mess you are right now? Well, that's too damn bad because no one can have you like I can, and certainly not your project partner....what's their face?" He practically spits out, and you can feel the jealousy practically dripping off of him.

"Thinking they're better than me, too bad they'll never get the chance to see you like this. Oh well, you'll behave for me won't you?"

+ Bonus

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

The Young Master was occupying too much of your time.

"Apologies, I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself tonight."

You stare at Barbatos confused, watching as he approaches you at the foot of the bed, smoothly pushing you down in one swift moment with one hand. The other lifted to his mouth as he bites at the finger, and pulls it off just as swiftly. Your mouth is agape as he switches hands, holding you down with ease as he removes his other glove.

"As much as I'd like to thank the young master for consistently inviting you over for tea, I will admit there are times when it was just the two of us without his presence." His hands trail your figure, and you're not quite sure what it is about him tonight but he seems.....different. He's far more forward, taking the initiative rather than waiting for you to take the lead. You gasp as you feel his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your neck. You gasp, leaning away so he has more room to do as he pleases.

"Barbatos-" He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. There's just something that turns him on so much, seeing you underneath him so helpless and pliant. His nose is wrinkled slightly as he gazes at you. You lay there, back arching as Barbatos has his way with you, cold hands caressing you, but not touching you where you ached for him the most.

"Hush now, let me take care of you, my love."

To Masterlist [ ◇ ]

Guidelines for NSFW content [ ◇ ]

Your hands are cold. Shaking. Not from the chill, but from the humiliation blooming deep in your chest.

He dumped you in the middle of the street. Didn’t even wait for the rain. Said something cruel. Said it like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter. And now you're just a soggy silhouette in the dark, surrounded by honking cars and strangers who keep staring and walking by.

You don’t cry right away. You just…stand there. As if maybe if you’re still long enough, time will freeze too.

Then—

Headlights.A familiar car pulling up fast. The engine cuts, and you barely turn your head before the door swings open and someone’s running toward you.

Not just anyone. Sunghoon.

Your best friend. The one who always shows up. The one who noticed the way your texts started sounding like they were written through gritted teeth. The one who’s been biting back the urge to do something since the moment he saw your smile start to dim months ago.

He doesn’t stop to ask questions. He doesn’t even care that the rain’s getting heavier, or that his white hoodie is already sticking to his skin. He just shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders in one fluid motion—like it’s instinct. Like it’s something he’s always been ready to do.

“What the hell happened?”

His voice is low. Controlled. But his eyes are fire. The kind that only burns when someone you love gets hurt.

You shake your head, trying to play it off—I’m fine, I’m okay, it’s nothing—but your bottom lip betrays you. It quivers. And then suddenly you’re collapsing into him with a sob, forehead pressing into his chest like it’s the only place you’re still allowed to fall apart.

He holds you. Tight. Arms wrapping fully around you like a shield.

“He said I was too much,” you whisper, breath hitching. “Too emotional. Too clingy. He said I make everything about me. And then he just…left.”

You feel Sunghoon’s chest rise with a sharp inhale. The muscles in his arms tense like he’s holding himself back from chasing after the guy right now.

“He left you in the rain? After saying that shit?”

His voice is different now—lower, more dangerous. You’ve never heard him like this. And yet, it still feels safe.

“If he didn’t want you at your most emotional,” Sunghoon mutters, “he didn’t deserve you at all.”

You blink up at him, eyes shining. And he’s looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. His hair is soaked. His jaw is clenched. But it’s his eyes that make your breath catch.

Because they look like they’ve been carrying this hurt with you. Like he’s been waiting for the day he could finally say:

“I should’ve been the one. I would never leave you like that.”

The words hang in the air between you—raw, unscripted, heavy with everything he’s never said before.

You step back just a little, hands still gripping the lapels of his jacket. You’re not crying anymore. Just watching him. Seeing him in a new light—maybe the right light—for the first time.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” you ask, voice barely above the rain.

He swallows hard. Looks away. Then back at you.

“Because you were with him. And I didn’t want to be just another person trying to take something from you. I wanted to be the one who gave you something back.”

That’s when it happens. That slow, trembling shift inside your chest—like the rain is washing everything clean. Like this ache might actually be the start of something new.

You lean into him again, and this time, it’s not because you’re breaking.

It’s because maybe…you’re finally ready to heal.

—

The rain's been gone for days, but Sunghoon still walks close to your side—like he’s afraid it might come back.

It’s warm out now. Summer-brushed air and distant chatter from a busy boardwalk, flashing neon signs casting colors across the pavement. The arcade buzzes with life: bells chiming, kids yelling over skee-ball, the muffled thud of basketballs hitting rims.

Sunghoon brought you here to make you smile again.

You know it the second you saw how hard he tried not to watch you too closely—like he was silently studying every flicker of emotion on your face to see if it was working.

And maybe…it is.

You hadn’t smiled like this in a while. Not the kind that cracked your face wide open, not the kind that made you laugh when he shoved all his tickets into your hand and bowed dramatically like you’d won a Grammy.

“Stay here,” he grinned just minutes ago. “I saw a claw machine near the front. You looked at that ugly bear like it owed you rent. I’m gonna win it.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself sit on the edge of a neon-lit bench, watching as he jogged off toward the prize counter, hoodie bunched at the elbows, hands already digging for change.

For a second, you breathe. Then a shadow falls over you.

You barely look up at first, assuming it’s a stranger passing by. But the voice?

The voice cuts through your skin.

“Wow. You moved on fast.”

You freeze.

You look up. It’s him.

Your ex.

The one who told you you were too much. Who left you mid-sentence in the rain and didn’t look back. Now he’s here, standing over you like a ghost who doesn’t believe in haunting from a distance.

You blink, trying to register him in this new light. He’s the same. Smug. Bored-looking. Like he’s entitled to your discomfort.

“Didn’t think you were the type to go running to the next guy with a savior complex. Let me guess—he waited ‘til I was out of the picture to make his move?”

You stand slowly, every muscle trembling. Not with fear. With fury.

“Leave me alone.”

He scoffs.

“So touchy. What, you’re in love already?”

He leans in closer, voice low and venomous.

“You always needed someone to fix you. Guess you found a new sucker to do the job.”

And that’s when you hear the footsteps.

Fast. Sure. His.

Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the air like a blade.

“Back. The hell. Up.”

Your ex turns, casual—like Sunghoon isn’t a threat. But Sunghoon isn’t smiling.

He’s standing between you now. Chest rising. Eyes cold. Entire body poised like he’s been waiting for this.

“You think showing up and throwing jabs makes you the bigger man?” he asks, voice calm but cutting. “Because all I see is a coward who got bored of breaking someone and came back to check if the damage stuck.”

Your ex rolls his eyes. “You don’t know anything about us.”

Sunghoon doesn’t flinch.

“I know she cried herself to sleep for weeks. I know she kept making excuses for your behavior like you were just ‘going through something.’ I know she still defended you when you weren’t around to hear it.”

You suck in a breath.

He continues.

“And you? You treated her like she was disposable. Like love was something you earned by putting someone down. That’s not power. That’s insecurity in a leather jacket.”

Your ex bristles, glancing around. People are watching now. Not enough to crowd—but enough to hear.

Sunghoon’s voice softens, somehow more dangerous in its control.

“You don’t get to hurt her and then act surprised when someone treats her right.”

Silence. Then—

“You should go,” Sunghoon says, final and firm. “Because if you say one more word, I promise I won’t just be using mine.”

Your ex backs off—part pride, part fear, part the weight of public attention pressing in. He tosses a scoff over his shoulder, but it’s weak now. Empty.

And then he’s gone.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Sunghoon turns around, hands hovering over your arms like he’s scared to touch you too suddenly.

“Hey. You okay?”

You nod, even though your throat’s tight.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He frowns. “What? No. Don’t do that. He should be sorry.”

You meet his eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He exhales, chest still tight.

“I know. But I wanted to. Because you’re not a burden. You’re not too much. You’re more than anyone like him could ever handle.”

You blink back something that burns.

He looks at you then, softer. Almost shy.

“Besides,” he adds, voice low, a small smile creeping in, “I still owe you a stuffed bear.”

You don’t realize how tightly your fists are clenched until Sunghoon gently unwraps them.

You’re back inside the arcade now. The lights feel too bright. Your ears are still ringing—not from the games, but from his voice. The way he stepped between you and your past like a stormfront, shielding you from it all without hesitation.

He doesn’t say much after it happens. He just finds your hand and holds it—not like someone claiming you, but like someone anchoring you to the moment.

“Come on,” he says softly, tugging you past the rows of blinking machines. “One more game.”

You let him lead.

It’s the claw machine. The one he left you to win something from before everything spiraled.

Inside: a lumpy, sky-blue teddy bear with uneven eyes and a heart stitched across its chest. The kind of thing you stared at half-jokingly earlier—but now, standing here next to him, it suddenly feels like it means something.

Sunghoon slides in a coin. Concentrates like it’s surgery. The claw dips down once, twice, fails, resets.

“Rigged,” he mutters.

But he tries again.

And again.

Until finally—on the fourth attempt—the claw latches. Lifts. Clink.

He grins like he just won the Olympics. Reaches in and pulls out the bear, brushing off its fur. Then turns to you with both hands out like it’s a peace offering.

“He’s ugly,” he admits. “But loyal. I think that’s kind of the vibe.”

You laugh—a real one this time—and take the bear. It fits perfectly in your arms.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice still hoarse.

Sunghoon’s face softens.

“You’re safe now. You know that, right?”

You look at him. Really look. He’s standing close, his hoodie damp at the collar, a crease in his brow like he’s still trying to protect you from something invisible.

“I know,” you say.

But then your voice breaks.

“I didn’t know how bad it was until I saw how you treat me.”

And there it is. The weight of it. The silent comparison that’s been unfolding in your chest this whole time.

Because with Sunghoon, you never had to shrink yourself. You never had to guess what version of you was acceptable. You were never too clingy. Or too emotional. Or too anything.

You were just you.

And that was enough.

Sunghoon doesn’t speak. He just smiles softly at you. Almost as if to him, you were something sacred. You smile faintly to yourself, squeezing the stuffed bear tightly to your chest, and let the silence hold you for once.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he says into your hair. “But if you ever want to, I’ll be here. Always.”

Your eyes sting, but you don’t cry. Not this time.

This time, you breathe.

And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like drowning.

The claw machine buzzes faintly behind you. Neon lights flicker against the glass, casting flashes of pink and green across the floor. But your world has narrowed to the space between your ribs and the pounding in your ears.

Sunghoon’s still standing in front of you.

His shoulders are broad, protective, unmoving.

You don’t even realize you’re trembling until he looks closely at you, his expression softening the second he sees your face. Gone is the sharp, dangerous fury he’d worn like armor a moment ago. In its place—something gentler. Something meant just for you.

“Hey. It’s okay now.”

You nod, but your body hasn’t caught up to the words. The adrenaline’s still coiled tight beneath your skin. Your hands are clenched so hard onto the bear your knuckles ache.

Sunghoon steps forward. Slowly. Carefully.

He doesn’t ask for permission—he offers it, in the way he hesitates before touching you. In the way his voice drops to a whisper, like anything louder might break you.

“Can I…?”

You collapse into his arms before he can finish the question.

He holds you like you’re made of glass and gravity all at once—fragile, but the center of his whole world. His hand smooths over the back of your head, his chin resting against your temple. You feel the rise and fall of his chest. The steady beat of his heart.

“He doesn’t get to touch you anymore,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t get to talk to you. He doesn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you.”

You don’t cry. Not now. Not when you’re in the safest place you’ve ever known.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to smile down at you. He slowly reaches his hand forward, poking the bear on it’s nose. 

“It looks cuter in your arms.” He says trying to sound sly yet failing miserably. 

You almost laugh. But your voice catches instead.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go home?”

His smile fades into something softer.

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.”

He nods once. No hesitation.

“Let’s go.”

—

Your apartment is still, dimly lit by the yellow glow of a kitchen lamp. You set the bear gently on your couch, then stand in the middle of the living room like you don’t know what to do with yourself now that the noise is gone.

Sunghoon doesn’t push. He just slips off his shoes, sets your keys on the counter, and quietly starts making tea like he’s done it a thousand times before.

When he brings the mug over, he sits on the floor beside the couch, not even waiting to be invited.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, offering the cup.

You take it with shaking hands.

Then you sit beside him.

It takes a while. But the silence starts to thaw.

You speak in pieces.

“I didn’t know how bad it was while I was in it. I kept telling myself he was just… guarded. That I was overreacting.”

“I used to apologize before asking for hugs. I’d say, ‘Sorry, I know this is annoying,’ and he’d just shrug like I was.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. You cover your face with one hand.

Sunghoon shifts beside you—closer, not crowding.

“That’s not love,” he says quietly. “That’s conditioning.”

You turn your head. He’s watching you like you’re something breakable and beloved all at once.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he continues. “You don’t have to apologize for needing comfort. Or wanting softness. Or feeling things deeply.”

“I like that about you.”

You blink, caught off-guard.

“What?”

“That you feel everything. That you care that much. It’s one of the first things I ever noticed about you.”

You look down at your tea. Then at the stuffed bear. Then at him.

“Will you stay?” you whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“As long as you want.”

That morning sunlight streams softly through the blinds. You blink awake to the quiet smell of waffles and something faintly sweet. You’re still curled on the couch, your oversized hoodie twisted around you, the blue bear tucked under your arm like a child’s favorite toy.

When you sit up, you spot him.

In your kitchen.

His hoodie is thrown over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up, his hair a little tousled, like he didn’t sleep much. But he looks soft. Warm.

Home.

“You’re cooking?” you croak.

He turns with a grin.

“Okay, heating up pre-made waffles is technically cooking.”

He hands you a mug before you can protest. It’s perfect. The exact ratio of milk and sugar you never told anyone you liked.

“How’d you know?”

He shrugs, then smiles again.

“I pay attention.”

You sip it slowly. The couch cushion beside you dips slightly when he sits.

It’s quiet again. Not awkward—just… gentle.

Then you glance at him.

“Why do you do all this?”

“All what?”

“This. Taking care of me. Staying. Knowing how I take my coffee. Giving me that bear like it was made of diamonds.”

His smile fades just a little.

“Because I care about you. A lot more than I probably should.”

Your heart stutters.

But before either of you can say anything more, his phone buzzes. A reminder for a chore. The moment slips quietly back into comfort.

But it lingers. The truth of it.

You care about him, too.

Later that night you find yourselves back on the couch. TV playing some mellow documentary you’re both barely paying attention to. You’re nestled into his side, head tucked beneath his chin, your breath rising and falling with his.

The bear is squished between you again. He’s become a permanent resident now.

Sunghoon’s arm is draped around your shoulder like it belongs there.

You feel it before you hear it—his voice, low and almost hesitant:

“I think I realized I started falling for you the day you told me he made you feel like you were too much.”

You pause. Pull back slightly to see his face.

He’s already looking at you.

“You looked so ashamed,” he continues. “Like your softness was something to hide. And I just remember thinking… I’d give anything to be the person who made you feel safe to be exactly like that.”

The air shifts.

You don’t know if it’s adrenaline or affection that makes your pulse stutter. But you know what you feel.

“What if I think I’m falling too?”

You don’t even realize you’ve said it until his eyes widen just slightly—then soften.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He presses his forehead to yours instead.

And somehow, it means more.

“Then we’ll fall slowly,” he whispers. “When you’re ready.. together.”

Thanks for reading! Reblogs + notes always mean a lot 💌

tl: @yazmike

The beauty and freedom of living there would slowly fall from grace. The comfort of the flowing water, now mocking at the sound of silence that followed you. The only creatures that seemed comfortable approaching you were the bugs that infested the damp heat of the summer, or the howls of the canines that crept in through your window in the dim, a one-sided conversation.

You never could understand why your family name would garner such strange looks from the townsfolk. Causing shifts in demeanour, where adults who were previously aloof and happy to see such a joyous child, would then keep you at arms length, pushing polite, but tight smiles. The kids you'd come up to and offer to play would happily go along, until you'd introduce yourself. Nervous excuses and jittery bodies running off to play somewhere else. You'd watch as they'd skip away, giggling off the interaction they'd just had.

You couldn't fault them too much for listening to their family. But it nevertheless hurt. Participating in the social gatherings were insufferable anyways, you'd slink away, claiming a tired mind from your endless studies, just to end up on the training grounds.

It was comforting to know that in the hustle and bustle, there would still be people there that would protect you. Who would become familiar at your presence; the shy girl who would appear one way or another, even if your nose would wrinkle at the smell hanging in the air after a hot day.

The town you lived in was sparsely populated, primarily by the families of the soldiers who lived in the one of the kingdom's training grounds nearby. Clangs of metal and grunts as the young trained until their bodies ached to feel the beating of a battle.

On the days you weren't preoccupied in the town library engrossed in a novel, or frolicking in the fields, you were at the training grounds. The soldiers there didn't seem to keep you at a distance in which had grown accustomed to. Those in-training seemed to care even less, so focused on climbing the ranks. The soldiers you'd meet, and become familiar, with would eventually leave due to the rotation of the ranks. With a never ending cycle of incoming soldiers offering either praises or silence to your name.

It was when you were eleven had you gotten an inkling.

The new soldiers had just gotten settled into the nearby encampments. You'd overheard chatter as you walked around, curious to see the new faces. Your ears perk at the mention of your family name. They had said someone had been a knight, the sworn shield of the a monarch. With the name she had built, sullied by her husband, a tactical strategist who had fled the kingdom, leaving her pregnant and alone. Abandoning those after to pick up the haphazard pieces left behind. At this point, it was so far past that the name truly only associated with the desperate work by your parents who ached for more.

You never got to spend much time with your parents. Always focused on trying not only to survive but get more from this life. And in the hours you did get to spend with your parents, they had never spoken a word about your ancestors. It was always talk about the present, and even more on the future. It didn't make sense, the reactions a name could bring. Especially one that lost relevance.

It made sense that your parents had established their names with the training ground again. Rebuilding the old nickname associated with it from past soldiers, "the Northern Fortress," for reasons unbeknownst to you. Sure you were the northern most town in the kingdom, but fortress? The training grounds didn't even have any walls, much less stone.

Before you made your way to the grounds, your parents stopped you, mentioning that the soldier rotation has shifted. For what reason, you could not say. Something along the lines of invasion and preparation. Yet, worry was replaced with excitement, enthused by the hope that these new faces wouldn't push you away too.

In your musing, your body had collided with another.

Dazed at the contact, your eyes peer towards a sneering face, topped with a blush coloured head of hair.

"Watch it princess," he hissed out.

He couldn't possibly have been much older than you. In fact, you were taller than him. Your head cocked to the side in confusion. Princess? If you were, you doubted you'd get such a reaction such as his. And, you've never met him before, so what had earned you such a response?

Your brows cinch and your lips jut out slightly, "Princess?" He scoffs and shoves past you, slightly cradling an arm. Your head follows him as he stomps towards med bay, disappearing behind the white fabric.

A snicker erupts from behind you, "Don't mind the oaf." He had a mess of obsidian hair, swept all over the place. His lips curled up, "He's just mad I beat him in sparring again." He beckons you to follow, and you do.

He held the curtain to the white tent open for you, displaying the pink-haired bully boy sat upon the edge of a cot, pouting as his arm is tended to by the doctor.

Your eyes drift to the lingering body who watches from the side. The young girls eyes look over you and look away, shifting her head to display a mole under her eye, short brown eye swaying with the movement.

"Thank you Dr. Ieiri," the boy mumbled, stretching his arm out to test the wraps.

From then on, you made a constant effort to avoid them. Too afraid to see the mean and short boy, Ryomen Sukuna you learned from Shoko. Who was never straying far from Toji Fushiguro. But like other soldiers, they had come and gone, just like all those before them. Shoko and her family had remained, saying that there would now have to be a stationed medic there constantly with the larger groups that would be sent over. Impending invasion prep, as you were told.

You had grown fond of the training grounds, always within eyesight. But now with someone your age who tolerates your presence? You were almost always at the training grounds.

You would return the weapons strewn about the dirt back onto the racks. Run small errands for the kitchen, fetching goods and equipment, dragging barrels of goods that dwarfed your body. You persevered, nonetheless, chest puffing out in pride, trying to hide the gasps of air your lungs were starved of. Heart rapidly beating because you had been acknowledged for something other than your name, your skill, your determination. You were bustling about the grounds, happy you found somewhere that wanted you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The time had passed, and so had the faces you had once gotten used to. Not yet learning to not get too attached.

Management had gotten used to your presence, and now hope you'd show up, for they always had work to be done, and you never shied away. You parents scolded you, saying you were better off socializing with the townsfolk. Those same words once filled with disappointment and frustration were only charged with habit. Sometimes they'll even make you drop something off to the med bay, as if you wouldn't have ended up there anyways.

You had the misfortune to be subjected to the jeering and taunts from the boastful Ryomen Sukuna, again. Chiding, yet dismissive, he was still the same. Somehow meaner and sharper in the time he was gone. At every appearance he'd claim you were spoiled. That having your name associated with such an honourable reputation is a stain on those who worked before you, heaving words of distaste and poison from his tongue.

What gave him the gall to maintain such an attitude baffles you, he happened only to be three years your senior, as Shoko said. And yet he treated you as if you were a gnat buzzing in his ear incessantly. You avoid him as much as possible for the time he's there, again. Hoping you would be kept at a distance. With such an angry and boastful attitude, you flinch every time you hear his voice for it always meant trouble and a self-righteous rant directed at you.

However, it was hard to deny Sukuna's claims when you agreed with them to some extent. He had trained and trained, excruciatingly so, that even you would occasionally chirp out remarks for him to take a break. Only for him to grunt out a response saying that you'd never get it, as he hacks away at a straw dummy. You scowl back at him, to which he pays you no mind. Tonguing your check, scolding yourself to why you even bother.

You worry anyways, begrudgingly so, as in few years time, he would try to claim the power of the northern region, a small part of which you call home. It was no small order to do so, having to duel the duke. The only region left in the kingdom that hadn't outlawed such a rule.

During a sparring session is when you learned of his plans. And of course it tumbled down-hill because of Toji. He threw Sukuna a sly comment, that he wasn't ready for such responsibility when he could barely beat a runaway. Sukuna had flared in response, jabbing and slicing, but uttered not a single word.

It was a loaded comment Toji knew better than to say, with the words leaving his mouth for the sole purpose to get a rise out of him.

It was the first and only time Sukuna did not boast. It was also the first and only time Sukuna had lost a sparring match to Toji at the time spent there at the training grounds, a stark difference to the first time they were there.

When you first met them, Toji was sixteen and freshly run away from his family's empire, constantly on guard, where Sukuna was fourteen and reckless. Now, Sukuna was sixteen, carving a name out for himself, only to trail behind the recently knighted Sir Toji Fushiguro, and "the Strongest," whoever deemed themselves worthy of such a preposterous and narcissistic title.

Your eyes met with Shoko, as you each ready yourselves for the snappy conversations that await you two as the burly men storm away from the other. Except, for the fact that you're helplessly watching as she goes to help Toji.

You had always favoured Toji Fushiguro, and Shoko knew that. Albeit five years your senior, he had provided something familiar. He hadn't always been known as a Fushiguro he divulged, chuckling at your wide eyes and eager face. A Zen'in, far from the empire he should be in. From that moment on, Toji Fushiguro had found a spot in your heart. He was big, brooding, handsome, a rascal you'd hear him described as. But the title you bestowed upon him, long before he became knighted, was your first crush. Never mind the hair ruffling and embarrassing nickname he bestowed unto you. Kid? He's barely an adult himself! Especially the way he puts extra work onto you. And it's not like you don't do it anyways. The lazy, no good, broad-chested knight in shining armour.

You've found yourself falling at the whims at others more often nowadays. Not to say you can be walked all over, absolutely no. The years of semi-social isolation had prepared you for the harsh realities of the personalities people tried to hide, especially when they're not trying to hide it in front of someone they deem has fallen further from the public graces than they have.

Certain people just knew how to get to you, like Toji. With a glint in his eye as you'd put away his equipment for him without a fight. You'd always groan at your actions afterwards, groaning to Shoko how obvious you'd been, that you can't help it! She claimed you had hearts in your eyes as he called you over, with them never disappearing even though you were called over only to put things away. You tackled her to the ground and made her swear to never speak about it again. And true to her word, she never vocally said anything, but if the smirks and glances said anything, the whole town knew of your little crush.

You weren't immune to Shoko's queries for help. If anything, you had half a mind to even consider denying her. From her numerous complaints of being over-worked, you caved to her pleas for help. How could you not when dark circles clung to her eyes? That even into adulthood, regardless of a lightened workload, would never disappear.

You cursed at yourself internally as you bandage the hot-headed idiot in front of you. You wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for her. The warmth of her tight hug she offered and the light kiss to your cheek as she sighed thanks was payment enough.

You had spilled more alcohol on the cut than intended, eliciting a hiss and a string of curses hurtled towards you. You mumble out a sorry and tighten your grip on Sukuna's shoulder, trying your hardest to focus. Learning how to bandage minor wounds wasn't all too hard anyways. Even in the short time the two idiots had graced your life for the second time, you couldn't even recall the countless times you've had to fix up some of the soldiers.

Once the plaster was secure, you patted it gently to motion you finished. He rolls his shoulder and brings his gaze to you, stiffly nodding and turning away from you.

You're storing the items back into the wooden crate, balancing it on your hips. "You should really be more careful," you call out. Biting your lip before you can make a needless remark on his first loss to Toji. He freezes in his tracks and slowly turns to face you.

The sound dirt crunching under his feet as he approaches, "I don't have that luxury." His crimson eyes bore into you. Your eyes flit from his, nervous from how close he is, feeling the heat radiating off his chest. His eyes narrow in response, and takes a step back.

"Not when the Northern Duel can kill me." Your eyes fly to his in alarm, scanning for any hint of a joke. But knowing Sukuna, if it was one, it was a cruel one played on himself. Your mouth is agape, waiting to hear anymore information he was willing to share, but nothing more is spoken.

He walks away, picking up a stray piece of armour that had failed to defend him from Toji's strike. He looks of his shoulder and pauses for a second. "Beat it princess," he tosses the metal piece in the air, where you're left scrambling to get it.

Unsure if you should drop the medical crate or try to catch it with one hand, your fate is decided for you as the piece of armour isn't moving towards you anymore. You pull your attention away from Sukuna and look at the arm jutting out from behind you, clutching the steel.

The arm is littered with scars, with thick fingers clutching metal. Large biceps as big as your head cause your neck to warm. Your face covered with a bashful smile in thanks, with Toji already boasting a smirk as he drops his hand to his side.

Sukuna scoffs at your reaction, "Don't you have somewhere better to be?" he grunts out, storming off towards the barracks.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

In the following months, the duke-in-training and knight were long gone, but so were the other soldiers. The ache of their presence etching a place in your heart where you deem them friends, much to your chagrin.

But this time it was different. A quiet winter, one without the screeches and clangs of metal in the background. Just the eerie noises of the night amongst the howling wind that threatens to collapse your once prestigious house.

Your parents had been toiling away, working to regain the status your family name once held. Trying to earn favour and time to rebuild what your precursors damaged. You became better at hiding your hurt when they changed their tune upon hearing your name. But the seemingly endless work your parents had put into it paid off; your family had been inducted to the royal court.

You weren't really sure what that actually entailed. It wasn't anything you thought you would ultimately experience. Your memory was sparse on the image of the royal family, with only glimpses of the prince. Before he was the crown prince, he was just a name scrawled in ink that had caused your house to flutter in nerves. A crisp envelope had been delivered to your doorstep that morning.

For once, you weren't on the training grounds. The freezing air that sent aches through your bones not permitting for such a wander. Amidst the vast room, filled with light spilling through the curtains, you lay on your plush bed. Dwarfed between feather down quilts embroidered with various animals and adorned with a few gems that dug into your skin.

Head cradled between your hands, immersed in every word on the pages of the book in front of you. The words spill into your head like the snow outside. Glinting in the sunlight, blinding you like opals catching the light produced by the hearth. Like the gems embedded in the jewellery decorating the skin of your mother. Perhaps one day, at least you hope, she'll give to you.

You imagine what it would be like to be the protagonist in the story told before you. One that isn't followed by a notorious reputation, that once upon a time was favoured in the public eye.

When you're older, will your life be occupied with waiting candidates? What would you do if your very own chivalrous and heroic knight arrived when a saviour was needed most? Your thirteen year old imagination going wild, envisioning a big and buff knight, clad in gleaming armour. A silhouette taking shape, identical to the recently knighted Sir Toji Fushiguro. You blush and yelp to your childish thoughts, you had better things to dwell on than who's arms would cradle you in your time of need...

Sighing, you let yourself swoon at the thoughts. How much could a little indulgence hurt anyways? Especially when the star of your play treats you like a younger sibling.

Gripping the novel you snap the book closed, falling back onto the bed. Your gown poofing! out from behind you. Your fingers trace the spine of the book. Snickering at the thought of your black-haired knight stepping on the chest of Ryomen Sukuna.

Your thoughts flow farther away, towards a prince charming. The image of a knight conquering snarky imbeciles dissipates, replaced by bits and pieces about the crown prince. You barely even know of the kingdom's prince, letting your mind fill in the blanks to your liking.

He is perfect! He doesn't speak ill to anyone, especially you. He is kind hearted, a charming laugh with a way with words, but with eyes for you. He is strong, the backbone of the kingdom. He isn't with you because of your name, scratch that, he doesn't care about the implications your name holds, and he does it all out of his love for you. He is a handsome prince, a poised man, but your friend.

All traits come circling back to you.

You are young. A yearner at heart. Desperate to be accepted in a world hesitant to do so. You may be all those things, but you are not naive.

You shelve the book back into its place, you've pushed your responsibilities, not wanting a scolding in your love-sick daze. You close the wooden door and pad your way to the stairs. The sight your eyes land upon was curious enough. Your father and mother were huddled together, fervoured whispers spilling out of their mouths.

You grip the railing, trying to be silent in hopes of hearing the source of their conversation. The wood plank creaks under your weight, a betrayal to your sneaky intent. They call out to you in contained enthusiasm. And in your mother's hand is a pristine white envelope sealed with bright blue wax. A colour you could only describe as ethereal, a blue you would only witness if you were worthy enough.

You cared less and less about the political ongoings of the kingdom, especially when it seemed it fed off of your family's demise, but your heart dropped. It was from the royal family.

And from the words you can pick out from the slur of words from your parents, you are expected to make an appearance, because now you are a noble.

The following days were a change you were still debating if you liked or not. You were leaning towards discomfort and distaste, but you could never admit that. It was a sign of change your father claimed. The tides had turned in your favour, said your mother. That objectively meaningless paper signalled the beginning of visits to the tailor and shops. Whisked away, all in preparation for the ball.

After a few hours of travel in a stuffy carriage, you finally arrive at the royal estate. The plot of land rivalling the size of your entire town!

You are a bundle of nerves and excitement, rocking on your heels to manage. The crown city was already a sight to marvel at, of course the royal estate would be even more so.

You enter the ballroom, shocked by the resplendence. Hanging from the ceiling is an intricate chandelier, reflecting rainbows around the expanse of the room. Vaulted ceilings reflecting the voices that fill the space. You peer around, taking in your surroundings, in awe of the spectacle. In your decade of life, you've never been in such a palace so large and grandiose. You notice the lack of blue that seems to surround the Gojo name, you have yet to see anything resembling the colour that was on the wax seal your parents seemed to fret over.

A wall to your right is decorated in portraits of the Gojo lineage, frames rimmed in wood and gold embossing. White roses spew out of vases as tall as you. Your hands neatly placed in front of you, as you move forward to where the people crowd. Though the receiving area is enormous, the people flock to the centre, to where the crown prince greets his guests.

You look over your shoulder, where nobody else seems to be, which only worsens your parents' nerves. Enamoured by the palace, you don't notice as the crowd decreases before you. Your parents rush before you to honour who you assume to be the king and queen—if the crown were any indication—with polite praises and greetings. You startle at the booming voice of the king, shifting from foot to foot. You look down at your dress, where your fingers are interlaced in front of you as you await to be addressed. To your surprise, it doesn't come from before you, but to your side.

"Welcome," your eyes dart to the speaker. "It is an honour to make your acquaintance."

It was the famed crown prince. The sole heir, with a hand out to you.

The boy wears a white suit, with golden decals running around the edges. Settled on the base of his neck were faded scars, brushing the tips of his hair. His hair a frosty white, like that of snow in the northern mountains that you're accustomed. His other hand is crossed over his chest, where his other still waits for yours. A radiant and dimpled smile aimed to you. But what you're most taken aback by are his brilliant cerulean eyes.

You gaze in awe at the prince in front of you. At a loss for words. Your father clears his throat.

You flush and fumble forwards, stuttering with wide eyes. "It is my honour, your majesty," you clumsily curtsy. You look up towards your parents, your brows cinching together in earnest as you try to recall what they told you to say.

"Thank you for the invitation, your royal highnesses," you direct your words to the current monarchs. "I hope my family can provide useful in your royal court, where future encounters are fruitful and collaborative endeavours bountiful," you recite, smiling at yourself. You receive polite nods and a small chuckle, but their gaze doesn't linger. You look to your parents whose eyes raise in alarm. You follow their line of sight, and finally clue in.

You grab the prince's hand, unsure of what to say at this moment. Your mind was in chaos. From the aura of splendour that hangs around the Gojo's to the striking blue eyes of the prince.

"I hope we can be good friends!" You blurt, much to your dismay. You close your eyes, wrenching your hand from his to cover your mouth, embarrassed by the lack of control you had over your thoughts. Your bold claim earning exasperated sounds from your parents, subjected to watching their child potentially repel any meaningful connection to the royal family.

But a sweet noise comes from the prince's pink lips. Your eyes peel open, to see him laughing. He leans forward and offers a hand out to you. Your eyes sparkle, tinged with a hopeful gleam, awaiting his response as you hesitantly take his hand once again.

"It would be an honour," he says, his grip slightly tightening around your hand. Receiving a wide smile from you, he tugs gently on your hand and guides you around the estate, showing you to the dining hall and the gardens. Your first real introduction to the royalty and what comes with when you run the kingdom.

You could only wonder what was in store for you as your family was now in charge of the royal guard.

now who do you pursue...?

⋆ the cold heart of the north who has it out for you?

⋆ the knighted, yet shady, burlier, and older imperial runaway?

⋆ the perfect crown prince with secrets of his own?

⋆ the court physician, who knows you best?