ascrewupromantic

[ascrewupromantic]

hehehehehe

Let me in your ocean, Swim

The five times Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, and the one that works

Pairings- Sukuna x F reader (both like 23/24)

Summary- You have known Sukuna your entire life, and he's infuriated you for most of it. Since you were kids on a playground he was picking on you, and you decided you hate him (love him!?) little do you know, he's been in love with you since the moment you met. There were five times he tried and epically failed to let you know. You all don't see each other for two years after college, when you run into him on Valentine's day at the bar- and you think, what better for getting jilted tonight then a hate fuck from Sukuna!? But... no, in fact he needs to finally tell you the truth. Sukuna 5+1 valentines story

CW- MDNI/NSFW- Idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers (kinda!?) Sukuna is TERRIBLE at feelings, reader is bratty, he is lowkey a bully when you're younger, go through the five times he tried to tell you (intermingles with the current night) sweet, angsty, smutty. Warnings oh boy a lot- Explicit sex, sexual tension, tummy bulges, breed kink, oral sex (m and f recieving) fingering, rough sex, creampie, possessive Sukuna, lots of dirty talk, alcohol underage, use of recreational drugs etc, it's me so ofc we have a lowkey breed kink lol- LONG ONE- 14.8k wc- TRUST ME PLZ lol

tracks for this Breathe // On My Own // Me & U // Wicked Games // The High

Comments/reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyyyy <3

You didn’t expect to be sitting alone at a bar for Valentine’s day, but here you are, dressed to the nines in a beautiful glittery black dress, hair done up, makeup perfect on your skin. You have glittery bangles along your wrist, and red bottom heels, you’re as dressed up as you ever got, but right before your date, your boyfriend decided to break things off with you.

Which leads you to this hole in the wall bar, across the street from the fancy restaurant you’d sat at for an hour waiting on him, only to get broken up via text. Sighing, you order another drink, tensing then when you hear it, the damn voice of the man who you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also had it bad for, for years and years, ever since elementary school.

“Tch, what’re you doing here brat?” You glare up at him, but when you see just how good Sukuna looks, after two years of not seeing him? You falter, lips parted just so as he smirks down at you.

However, his heart is pounding in his chest, despite certainly not showing you outwardly, you take his damn breath away. Sukuna has always found you to be the most beautiful, infuriating little creature in existence. And you’ve just gotten more beautiful, which in itself irritates the shit out of him, it was hard enough acting ‘normal’ around you all his life.

But now?

“What’re you doing here, Kuna?” He snorts, rolling ruby red eyes, leaning against the bar with an elbow propped on it, glaring at you.

“Don’t call me that, god.”

“It irritates you, so I will.” You smile up at him, sipping the rest of your drink, which he eyes disparagingly.

“What’s that pink shit?”

“Oh, like your hair?” You counter, raising a brow, his jaw sets. “Ya want one, Kuna?”

“No, I don’t want your little bitch drink.” You roll your eyes now, as he sits next to you, and your eyes sweep over his starch white dress shirt and black slacks, stretching over muscles that seemed to have only gotten more pronounced since college.

“Not even my cherry, hmm?” You tease, pulling the maraschino out of your cup, dangling it in front of his face.

“That’s long gone, I’m sure, looking all slutty …” He murmurs, right in your ear, you shove at him, scoffing.

“You’re slutty, Sukuna. Pretty sure you fucked a whole sorority last time we caught up?”

“Mmm, rumors, rumors.” He holds up two fingers now. “Gimme something that’s not a little bitch drink, please.”

“So manly, oh heavens!” You pretend to fan yourself and he can’t stop the laughter, but he soon covers it with a glare.

“Get her some more of this pink crap.” He says, and you are a little surprised then, looking at the handsome man who’s had your heart for so long you can’t remember a time before him.

“Are you buying me a drink?”

“I am buying you a drink. I… it’s been a long time.” He misses you, but the words are caught in his throat.

“It has been a long time. Thank you.” You smile as the bartender hands you another dirty Shirley, and hands Sukuna a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He sips at it, eyes darting over your frame, your sexy body that is so well shown in that dress of yours, all he can think of is unzipping it.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” You blink a bit.

“How’d you know I had one?”

Well, Sukuna’s been insta stalking you but he won’t admit it.

“Heard it from our friends, duh. Just because we don’t see each other doesn’t mean I don’t see them.”

“Yeah well, it’s not like… I didn’t want to see you. We left things…”

“Yeah.” He sighs now, running a hand through pastel locks, a hand with black tattoos and black nails, throwing off this corporate vibe he has, something dark about him, but then, there’s always been. “You single on Valentine’s day?”

“I am, officially. Ass of a boyfriend left me across the street via text. And… are you…”

“Yeah, I also got broken up with, but slapped in the face, and in person. Think they planned the shit?” You giggle, shaking your head and sipping your drink, leaning just a bit closer, one of your legs brushing his, strong muscles of his pressing on yours. He damn near moans just at feeling your body after so, so long.

“Maybe they did. I’ve wanted to see you, though… I just…”

“There’s something I wanted to… tell you. Actually. I thought about calling you, but…”

“Yeah? Calling me?”

“So surprising?”

“You hate me? So yeah.”

Sukuna sighs now, sipping his drink again, looking down into your beautiful eyes, your beautiful face, remembering just all those times he’d ruined it with you. Fuck, since the first moment he met you, he was a dick, and pushed you away, all because the shit he feels terrifies him. And over the years, he’s tried, but he thought you were too far gone, nothing but a regret, a memory.

Something to compare every girl he’s with, never you, are they? There’s no one like you.

But you’re here of all places, and though Sukuna thinks shit like ‘signs’ are the dumbest thing ever, he can’t let this pass, not this time. He takes a breath and his lips part, his fingers then brush your hair back, something far too gentle for Sukuna, something that makes your eyes dilate, your little gasp so sexy he can’t think.

“You trying to fuck me tonight?” You ask, and he chuckles, the gentle brush now a rough grip in your hair, leaning over you.

You taste the whiskey on his breath, you feel his lips so close, your breaths mingling, as your hand comes to his shirt, balling the fancy material in your little fist. “That what you want, brat? Me to fuck you finally?”

“Maybe I do.” He freezes then, blinking long lashes, leaning even closer, free hand gripping your waist in the crowded bar. “A hate fuck? Sounds like the perfect thing to forget tonight.”

“Hate fuck, huh?” What you don’t know is, Sukuna is in love with you.

“Never thought of it? I doubt that. I remember things.” You lean even closer, hand now pulling at the nape of your neck, his other hand pressing against your ribcage, thumb right under the swell of your breasts, shooting desire down your tummy, across your body.

“I remember more, trust me. I need… to tell you shit. Okay? Will your bratty ass listen?”

“Make me.”

“I swear to…” You giggle as he slams his lips on yours, exhaling at how good it feels, god was good the word!? How fucking perfect you feel, mushy things he’ll never admit, his heart thudding in his chest. You whimper, this sound from the back of your throat that has him picturing every sound he’s going to elicit from you tonight.

His lips are firm, but surprisingly gentle for Sukuna, different from the couple of kisses over the years, no it’s too much. His tongue slipping between the seam of your lips, and devouring your mouth. Your arms slip up around his neck, kissing him back, arching toward him more and more. Your years of desire come out, your body reacting to his every movement.

You want him.

He needs you.

He pulls back, taking a breath and smirking. “Fucked out expression how? From a kiss?”

“You’re such a dick, I swear to god.” You shove at him now, as the music from the bar vibrates, beating erratic like your heart.

“Listen… if you can actually listen to me tonight, I’ll make you cum so much you won’t even be able to think about your dumb little ex boyfriend. Yeah?” Your chest heaves up and down with your breaths, vivid images spilling through, his white grin flashes under the neon lights. “Can’t think now?”

“I… fucking… okay. I’ll listen to whatever bullshit you want, I guess.”

“Need me that bad?”

“I’m gonna go-”

“No, shit. Shit, no don’t… stop it.” He holds you to him now, sighing as he looks at your pretty scowl, one that just makes him want you more. “Just give me the night to explain some shit, yeah?”

“Fine. But let’s get out of here after this drink.”

“Desperate to be alone, huh?”

“Y’know, that bartender is kinda cute.” You wink at him then, leaning forward, earning Sukuna yanking at your hair. “Ow! Always did that shit.”

“That’s the first thing I wanted to talk about… the day we met.” You rest your chin on your hand now, hair falling just so as he remembers.

*****

The first time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 4th/5th grade (Kuna age 11, Y/N age 10)

You were the new girl, a little shy but so pretty. And well, when you came up to Sukuna and smiled, asking where your class was, he couldn’t even speak, he just stood there, mouth flopping like some fish as you waited. His little brother Yuuji finally answered you, staring at his brother in confusion. ‘it’s right there across the hall’.

“Oh, thank you! What’s your name?” You smile at him then, and your smile is just too… annoying, yes, it annoys Sukuna.

“Yuuji, I’m in fourth grade but Sukuna is in fifth. What grade are you in?” He nudges his brother, who rolls his ruby red eyes.

“I’m in fourth too! Oh, so you’re Sukuna then?” You ask sweetly, turning to Sukuna, something happens then, Sukuna blushes. “Are you okay?”

He scowls at you now. “Of course I am, what’re you looking at?” He demanded, and your mouth opened in surprise.

“What?”

“Yeah, stop staring, new kid.” You roll your eyes now, shaking your head with a narrowing of your own eyes.

“You’re pretty rude.”

“You’re pretty weird.” You scoff then, and Yuuji is waving his arms up and down, stepping between you.

“Be nice, Sukuna. Um, can I walk you to class?” You nod then, giving Sukuna a glare, as Yuuji whispers in his ear.

“You’re such a jerk, she’s pretty.”

“Tch, whatever.” Sukuna watches as you walk off with Yuuji then, he does not like whatever it is you just made him feel. He’s thankful you’re not in any of his classes until you walk right into art, and you’re nervously standing near the teacher. She introduces you, and Sukuna finally learns your name.

“You can sit next to Sukuna!” Sukuna crosses his arms, jaw setting, and you look at him, wondering just what his problem is.

You think he’s really cute, for such a jerk, as you sit next to him and peer over at his sketch, which is actually really good. Trying to still be friendly, you let him know- “that’s awesome!”

Sukuna scoffs, covering it up quickly, no one has really seen his art, and your compliment makes him blush. “I didn’t show you.”

You frown now, brows knitting together. “Um, sorry, but it’s so cool. Could I see more?”

“No!”

“Um…”

“Just stop talking, would you? Bad enough I have to sit by you.” Your lower lip trembles, and Sukuna feels horrible now. “I’m… look, I’m-”

“Sorry.” You whisper, sniffling just a bit and looking at the teacher, and Sukuna hates himself then, he keeps wanting to say something, anything, but when he finally catches you in the hall, you glare at him.

How are you even cuter glaring!?

“Leave me alone, you’re a… a jerk!” You say then, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Me, a jerk? Why because I’m not fawning over the new girl?”

“No, because you… just are a jerk!”

“Well you’re a brat.” Sukuna says, and you gasp, turning angrily and clutching your books, Sukuna rubs his hand over his face, sighing then.

He really messed that up.

*****

You swirl your straw around your cup as Sukuna sips on his whiskey, looking far too damn fine you think, and you know it’s not the couple of drinks in your system. It’s just him and who he is, everything about him since day one drew you in, despite his best efforts at being an ass to you. You smile a bit as you remember the day that you met him.

“You were so mean, for no reason.” You muse softly, he sighs then, running a hand through pink strands of slick backed hair.

“Yeah, I was… then when I tried to apologize, you scowled at me.” You giggle then, the sound ending him completely, the way your cute nose scrunches up, god had he ever told you? Has he ever really said a compliment more than a handful of times to you?

“I was mad at you, for sure. My whole life people really liked me, but you didn’t at all, and I couldn’t fix it.”

“People pleaser.” You sigh at that, leaning a bit on your elbow, breasts showing far too much in your pretty neckline.

“I am, for sure.”

“When you laugh…” He trails off now, psyching himself up, taking a breath as he studies you seriously.

“When I laugh…”

“Your nose scrunches up… it’s cute.” He mumbles, almost like he’s in pain, and you giggle again, making him smile just a bit before he realizes it.

“It is!? Is that a compliment from Sukuna?”

“There are a lot of compliments I have for you. But, yeah, it’s annoyingly cute.” Your giggles relax a bit, as you now bite your lower lip, tempting him to kiss you all over again. “The things I can’t wait to do to you.”

That sobers you up, sending chills across your entire body, desire stark on your pretty face. “Oh yeah?” Your little breathy mumble wrecks him, but outwardly he raises a brow.

“Is that your attempt at being nonchalant, brat? Oh yeah?” He mocks, you shove at him then, as he snorts in laughter.

“Is that your attempt at being sexy- ‘can’t wait to show you little brat’ pshh.” You’re mocking him in a deep tone, Sukuna can’t stop the smirk.

“Bet it worked, bet you’re all wet, hmm?” You pause now, biting your lower lip again, teeth leaving marks when he gently pulls it from your teeth’s grip. “Nothing smart to say?”

“Shut up.” Is all you mumble, and he exhales, ruby eyes glinting as they watch you so carefully, studying your every feature. “So is that what you needed to say? My laugh is kind of cute?”

Sukuna clears his throat now, shifting a bit on the barstool, running a thumb down the glass. “No. The day we met, I should have told you that… you were pretty, and sweet. And I was an ass.” You blink in confusion.

“Sukuna, are you dying or something!? Is this some end of life apology tour!? You better not be, I swear to-”

“Shut it.” He stops you now, a fingertip to your lips. “I ain’t dying, calm down, can a man not… speak on some shit?”

“Sure, but it’s you, like my mortal enemy? Bane of my existence? Bully the entirety of school?”

One of his big hands is brushing against your bare thigh now, you look down at it, all tattooed, veiny, huge… making your tummy flip. “Maybe I wanted to be more than that.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is a breathy whisper, you half wonder if you’re in some dream, Sukuna being nice to you!? Being so close after so long?

“Yeah. So another drink, another story?”

“Hmm, do I get another kiss if I listen?” You tease, feeling the liquor make you bold, warming your insides. Sukuna’s lips quirk up on one side, his breath tickling your neck when he leans close, lips almost brushing against it. You feel your pulse flutter when his plump lips touch the shell of your ear just barely, like a fire igniting inside you, more than any liquor could produce.

“I’ll not just kiss you everywhere, I’ll fucking bite you everywhere, lick you all over, every…” His lips kiss your jaw line. “Pretty.” Your neck. “Inch.” He’s right behind your ear, that sensitive spot, kissing and nipping just so, you bite back a cry and fail, earning his chuckle. “You’re so easy f’me, huh brat?”

“Oh f-fuck you…” Your grumble makes him laugh, the sound tickling you as hiegrips your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “You’re the worst.”

“I know, I have been, for all these years. Ya ready for the next story? Then I promise…” He’s trailing his fingers down your thigh now, making your knees literally knock together, tummy clenching with an insane need you’ve only felt once, back on the last day you all really talked to each other. “Then we can head out of here.”

“Better be good, if it’s boring I’ll leave.” Your half hearted promise just makes him throw his head back in laughter, as he orders two more drinks, loosening his tie just a bit, making your thoughts haywire. “Where to, then? What trip down memory lane of bully Sukuna?”

Sukuna tenses just a bit, the things that he’s held in so long threatening to spill. “Middle school… more specifically, seventh grade, Yuuji’s party?”

It’s your turn to tense, at the brutal memory, so long ago. “Oh…”

*****

The second time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 7th/8th grade (Kuna age 14, Y/N age 13)

 You were boogie skating with these fancy rainbow skates you saved all your allowance for, as all your friends were gathered around, some over at concessions, some at the arcade, some skating alongside you. But Sukuna? He was leaning on the edge of the brightly colored wall, watching no one but you, he could pick you out of anywhere, really.

You were so good at skating too, legs crisscrossing to the beat, your friends and his all murmuring about how good you are at it. You’re giggling as you whisper something to your friend Nobara, her and Yuuji were all best friends, along with Megumi, who was sipping on a coke next to Sukuna and Yuuji.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” Megumi says, and Sukuna scoffs, shrugging.

“I guess.”

“She’s insane at it, she teaches kids and everything.” Yuuji says.

“You got it so bad for her.” Megumi teases, and then Sukuna tenses a bit, looking at you again, then at his brother, who is blushing.

“Nah, she’s just my friend. She’s so pretty though.”

You and Nobara are hopping off the floor, and Nobara looks right at Sukuna then, blinking her brown eyes and narrowing them. Sukuna wonders at just what you’re telling her, as you nervously bite your lower lip, then you’re waving your arms wildly as Nobara skates over to the three of them, and you tentatively follow, color decorating your cheeks under neon lights.

“Hey, Sukuna.” Nobara says, and he leans back on the wall.

“Yeah, what is it?”

She comes closer then, leaning a little too close. “Do you like her?” She says your name then, and Sukuna glares, stuttering, Megumi and Yuuji snicker in laughter behind him when you approach.

“What kind of question is that?” He says, and Nobara glares now.

“It’s just a question, okay? You can’t keep your eyes off her.” She smirks, and you cover your face in embarrassment.

“Ignore her, please.” You mumble, wanting to fall into a hole then and there, as the loud music blares around the rink.

“Everyone says you have a crush.” Nobara continues.

“You do stare at her all the time…” Megumi says, Sukuna turns away then, crossing his arms, feeling so embarrassed he can’t think.

“You don’t have to answer, Sukuna, it’s okay…” You touch his shoulder then, and just a touch from you ruins his middle school brain, when he looks down at your cute little face. “I figured you didn’t, she just…”

“I don’t, not at all.” He says the words so sharply you yank your hand back like it was burned, eyes wide on him now.

“Okay.” You manage, and Sukuna hates how your face falls then.

“You’re such a jerk! Why do you have to say things like that!?” Yuuji says, and he scoffs.

“Always coming to her defense, aren’t you the one with the crush?”

“He’s my friend, Sukuna.” You say, as Yuuji scowls at his older brother.

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t ask you out if you were the last girl in school.” Your face falls now, and everyone gasps, as there were more kids from your class gathering around. Sukuna falters then, but you cross your arms, scowling.

“Good, because I would never say yes! You’re the last boy in the world I’d ever go out with!” You shout it practically, people are all whispering as you skate off then, fury raging through your veins, and Sukuna stands there, as everyone looks at him with confusion.

“What’s your problem!? She really likes you, you’re so stupid!” Nobara hisses, chasing after you now, and Megumi and Yuuji shake their heads, leaving Sukuna to skate off towards the lockers, hastily taking them off as his mind whirls with what he’s just done to you.

You’ve done nothing but be as nice as you can to him since he’s Yuuji’s brother, but that’s the only reason he thinks you’ve tolerated him at all. He picks on you constantly, he tugs at your hair, he’s even snipped a part of it off in elementary school, he may or may not have kept it.

He throws paper balls at you, he tugs at your shirt and makes fun of you, and even through all of it you’ve not done more than scowl, roll your eyes, tell him off. But Sukuna has it bad for you, in fact he thinks he’s in love with you, but he just becomes more of an idiot as you all are getting older. You affect him more and more as you become prettier and prettier.

He watches the way the light hits your face in class and stares dreamily before you’ll catch him, and he’ll scowl instead. He’s an idiot.

And now he knows he hurt you.

As he’s outside, about to walk home, you’re standing against the wall, covering your face, in tears, when you see him, turning away quickly. Sukuna pauses then, his heart breaking, knowing he’s embarrassed you, but he doesn’t know what to say. He walks up, earning your glare, though your eyes are puffy, and your nose is all red from rubbing it.

“I… I…” He trails off, and you shake your head.

“If your goal is to embarrass me, you succeeded. I should have never told her I liked you…”

Sukuna sputters, mouth opening and closing. “You what!?”

“I don’t anymore, don’t worry.” You rub at your eyes now, sobs catching in your throat when you look up into ruby red eyes, eyes that apparently hate you, but you see something different, something softer.

“Why would you like me?” He asks then, and you want to laugh.

“How would I know? You’re a mean jerk, always have been. Maybe I needed you to be mean like that, to really knock that idiot idea out of my head.” Sukuna feels himself breaking inside now, two hands coming to your shoulders, making you gasp as you tilt your head back to look at him.

He’s already taller than anyone, and the more he grows up the cuter he is, the worse your crush gets. The more you hang out at Yuuji’s house, the more you see him, the more you fall, shit the meaner he is the more you fall. You can’t even find it in you to stay mad at him, when he makes your heart race, when you’re drawing doodles of him and you in your notebook.

You asked Nobara not to say anything, but she was so sure that he liked you back, though you knew he didn’t, you knew he hated you. He has since he met you, and you don’t know what you did.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean it.” You scoff, shoving at him, his hands fall.

“You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Sukuna blinks back his own emotion, gulping. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why’d you say it?” You look up at him, when your eyes look at him like that he hates himself so much, knowing he’s just lying to you, to himself.

“I just… everyone was…”

“You care so much what people think, despite acting like you don’t.” Sukuna scowls at you now. “Embarrassed to like me?”

“What!? Why the fuck would it be embarrassing to like you?”

“You tell me. Not pretty enough? Not popular enough? I see who you hang out with. Just forget it, I promise I’ll never say I like you again.” You peek at your phone now, sliding it up, but Sukuna cups your face, leaning close, your eyes dart to his lips, thinking for some insane moment he’d be your first kiss.

No way though.

“You’re pretty, okay? Very pretty.” You pause then, mouth open in a gasp, and Sukuna laughs without humor. “How can you think you’re not?”

“I… um… you…”

“I didn’t mean it.” He steps closer, thumb brushing a tear away from your cheek. “I’m sorry I… made you cry.”

“You always make me cry.” You whisper, and he gulps now.

“Yeah, I do. But this time… I’m really sorry.”

You sigh then, hand touching his wrist, making his own pulse race, as he thinks wildly of kissing you, of something he’s dreamed of since he first found out what it was. “You don’t have to apologize for not liking me back.”

“I-”

“But for saying it like that? Yeah it was mean.”

“Listen…”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile sadly, backing off when you see your mom’s car pull up, and Sukuna is left dumbfounded. “Don’t worry, I swear I won’t say it again, I won’t even… think it again.”

You know you’re lying.

Sukuna says nothing as you get in your mom’s car, and she’s asking if you’re okay, he watches her hug you for a moment before she begins to drive, and he sees your eyes full of tears again, streaking down your face. Yuuji walks out front then, nudging him as he watches his brother’s eyes glimmer with what looks like tears.

“Why’d you do it?” Yuuji asks, and Sukuna sighs.

“I don’t know.” He admits, Yuuji puts a hand on his back then.

“You’re a big idiot.”

“Excuse me!?”

“You are.”

He was.

*****

Suddenly all that embarrassment floods you, you tense at the memories, hating how vivid they are, after all these years. You nervously look away, downing the rest of your nearly empty drink in one gulp. Sukuna is quiet then, and you wonder just what his angle is, is he here to embarrass you again? Is this some long term bully shit? Is that an apology tour?

“Are you in therapy and making rounds?” You ask softly, voice breaking, and then you feel his hand wrap the back of your neck, resting his head against yours, making you ache for him.

“I don’t feel bad for shit I’ve done, ever, except what I’ve done to you.” You look at him, he’s too close, far too close. He sees your emotions mirroring his own, and it breaks him. “I should have never fucking done it.”

“Sukuna, we were in middle school. It’s fine.”

“It’s not though, because it was such a blatant lie. God how did you not know how bad I was down for you?” You suck in a breath, shaking your head quickly, and hopping off the barstool.

“You’re lying! What even is this shit.” Sukuna pulls you between his thighs, brushing your hair back behind your ear as you tremble. “Sukuna…”

“I am not lying, but I was then, an idiot kid who was mean as shit to you.”

“Why were you so mean?”

“I’m trying to get there. Can you keep listening?” You shake your head, sniffling. Now, it’s just like being back there, back on that day where you were so embarrassed you could hardly face anyone.

“I can’t handle this shit… it’s things I’ve shoved so far back…”

“I know.” Sukuna’s strong thighs are under your tiny little hands, pressing against his muscles under the expensive fabric, as everything fades in the world but him, but the longing that’s eating you both up from the inside. Your breaths come quicker when he looks at you, that intense way, with his arrogant smirk finally not on his face, just once.

“Why do you wanna do this, rehash it?” You ask now, leaning even closer, until you’re right against his body, and he’s bending low.

“I need to tell you some important shit, I just need you to listen. Do I need to reward your bratty ass for some patience?” There’s that smirk.

“Maybe, I offered to hook up, not go through yearbooks.”

“Fine, so let’s get out of here, let you get some air, and we’ll continue. I’ll… take care of you, hmm?”

“Yeah, think you could?” He snorts, rolling his ruby eyes, hopping down, towering right over you, taking over your every sense.

“You ask dumb fucking questions, I think that’s the one thing you know I could do…” He leans right down, cupping your face. “Ruin you for anyone.”

“Big talk.” You’re so full of shit, your body is on fire, your heart is pounding out of your chest, the clothes feel too tight, everything swirls around you.

“You know it’s not.” Sukuna pays for the tab then, walking you out, the cool night air hits you, making you shiver, so he wraps a jacket around your shoulders, shocking you. “You think I’m that much of a dick?”

“Yes.” He laughs then, that booming laugh that makes him throw his head back, as you snuggle against his jacket, inhaling the expensive scent of musky cologne. “You have nice taste though.”

“Bet you do too. A nice taste.” He pulls you against his hard chest, feeling your soft breasts press against him, making his cock hard just from that. “Wanna know how badly I’ve wanted to?”

“T-taste me?” You whisper, all bravado and teasing gone, the breeze gently blowing your hair around as you wait for his driver.

“Fuck yes. Should I right here, brat?” He slips his hand under the lapels of the jacket, slipping over your dress and slipping it up, as people walk in and out of the busy little dive bar. You feel yourself so wet you’ve made a werspot in your panties, panties his thumb finds slowly.

“Right h-here?” You whisper nervously, when his driver pulls up in a whole fucking limo, you blink in surprise at it, as his hands fall.

“You’d let me, so desperate.” You glare again, making him grin. “I love when you scowl at me.”

“Are you feeling okay!? And a limo, pretentious.” You eagerly slide in with his help though, seeing everything one could dream of, as he leans over, pulling out a bottle of champagne, raising a brow, the slits in it just making him sexier, damn him. “You just ride in a limo?”

“Why not? I have these long legs, and I like to be comfortable.”

“Psh…” He pours you a glass of champagne then, and you eye a little white baggie curiously, along with a bag of weed. “Damn you partying everywhere?”

“On occasion, usually this shit is for clients though.” You giggle a bit, sipping the champagne. “I would never offer coke, but you smoke?”

“No, not really. I did once and it made me so stupid.”

“Fair enough.” He closes up the little open box, arm over you casually, kissing his way up your neck carefully, enjoying your sighs of pleasure. “Do you want a reward for listening to two stories?”

“Hmm, what do I get? A gold star?” He smirks, shaking his head and kissing you, the tart of the champagne swapping between your tongues, the kiss is slow, sensual, before it builds, and he’s setting down your glasses. He’s got you on his lap so quickly your head spins, and you’re grinding on his length, gasping in pleasure, your head falling back.

“Holy… f-fuck…” He huffs, all bravado gone when he feels your slick warmth through the layer of his dress pants. “You’re that hot?”

“Am I?” You can’t think, not when you feel his length pressed, making you whimper, which he chuckles at, nipping your collarbone between his teeth.

“That little whine? Fuck… pathetic.”

“I hate you.” You grumble then, shoving at him, but he holds you by your hips, pressing you against him harder. “Let me go, ass.”

“I like you pathetic, sweet, whiny. Sexy as fuck.” You are dragged back down for a kiss, your teeth clicking with the intensity, as you roll your hips more and more, and he slips those hands up, the veins popping out when he grabs you bruisingly. “Everything about you is made to drive me insane.”

“You’re saying insane shit, Sukuna. Is this a booty call, a hate fuck… or…” You pause, gasping as he thumbs your clit over your panties, pressing against the damp fabric, making you whimper again, eyes rolling back.

“Ya think that’s all I want? No, brat, the reason I didn’t do shit… is because… I know I’ll never be able to fuckin’ stop.” You’re flipped under him, back pressing against the seat, as he hovers over you. You yank his tie down, slamming his lips against yours, hungry lips that drink every moan you have when his hand slips between your thighs, yanking your thong to the side.

“Kuna…” He groans, slipping fingers up and down your slit, you’re trembling now, breaths quicker and quicker.

“Need something, brat?” Your brows lower, you have an insult on the tip of your tongue when his finger tip presses your tight entrance, and then Sukuna loses it, shoving his finger all the way in, moaning. “You’re this fuckin tight?”

“Ngh…” You can’t manage an answer, not when he’s crooking his finger just so, pressing that little spot inside you, finding it better than any boyfriend could just the first time, and your walls are gripping his thick digit, while your hand still clutches his tie.

“There it is, ha- feel her, fuck.” Sukuna is simultaneously in control and losing control as he plays you, curling his fingers in syrupy wetness, making you fall apart under him, hips bucking when his thumb presses your clit again. “Like both, that pussy so slutty f’me?”

“S-slutty…” Your brain short circuits, when he slips in two, stretching you out, your dress scrunched up over your hips, he hovers over you, watching every expression on your pretty face avidly.

“That’s it… let go, huh? Make a fucking mess.” You’re panting, you’ve never cum from just fingers like this, not when he’s building that tension, pressing two up and rubbing your clit, until you’re reaching higher and higher. “Feel it, feel her, she wants to cum, just let her, huh?”

“F-fuck!” You scream out then, kissing him deeply, desperately, as he makes your pussy convulse around him, orgasm washing through you in waves, until you’re weak and boneless under him, twitching cunt gripping his fingers, so slick you hear it.

“That’s it, there you go.” He rubs his fingers up and down your slit now, easing up, sucking your juices off his fingers, cheeks hollowing. You gulp at the sight, of the sexiest fucking thing you’ve seen, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Can’t wait to bury my face, eat you so good you pass the fuck out.”

“Wh-what? You…” You can’t function, from fingers, when he kisses you again, slower, letting you taste yourself.

“Can’t wait to make you stupid. Fuck your brains out. Be nothing but me, brat, yeah?” His husky voice, his tight grip, his brutal kisses destroy you, they’re not the kiss you shared last time, not even close, he’s letting go, he’s ending you.

“K-Kuna…” He exhales now, easing off you as he helps you up, your coat having fallen onto the seats, leaving him to caress your bare arms gently.

“Feel better, brat? So needy.” You smack at him, only making him laugh just a bit. “Wanna know what I should’ve told you then?”

“Shit… forgot all of that.” You blink rapidly, disoriented.

“Cock drunk off fingers? So easy.”

“You know, drop me off-”

“Hush, brat.” He yanks you up, sitting you right on his lap, but this time sideways, sipping his drink and then holding the glass to your lips, you sip greedily, sighing and finding your arms wrapping around his neck, as he pulls you even closer against him, burying his face against your neck.

“What did you need to tell me then, Kuna?” You whisper, getting weaker by the moment, the orgasm destroying you, and making you wonder…

What would his dick be like?

His mouth?

If his fingers casually do that?

“I should have told you…” He exhales, pulling you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent greedily. “That I did have that crush, fuck way more than that, you were all I could think of. You still are.”

You still now, pulling back a bit, as your eyes lock in the led lit limo, your breaths mingling as they come quicker and quicker. “Y-you liked me?”

He shakes his head. “That wasn’t even the word. There’s a stronger word… one that terrified me then. I was a little ass, a shithead.”

“Yeah you were.”

He glares, pinching your hip then, making you yelp. “Can’t wait to occupy that bratty fucking mouth.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna shut me up?” You whisper, earning his cock leaking precum now, god only you could have this effect on him.

“I’ll shut you up, have your voice hoarse, shove my cock so deep.” You whimper, shifting, and he kisses you again, brutal and rough, teeth almost making your lower lip bleed, his grip on your hips pressing so deep you can’t breathe. “Hoarse from screaming, from my cock stretching your throat, so fucked out you won’t be able to sit or walk.”

“This is a lot of talk, Kuna. How many more fucking stories before you back it up, hmm?” You demand, voice breathy, he smiles then.

“Three.”

“Oh come on!”

“Shut it, brat. You ain’t gonna die, ain’t had my dick this long.”

“Well hurry your mean bully stories up.” You earn a gentle smack on your cheek, only making you whine out, as you smack him back, making him die for you, kissing you again before he remembers.

He needs to tell you it all.

“Make 'em quick, dammit.”

“Slutty brat.” He earns another smack, grinning, white teeth glinting. “Fine, fine… how about that time we kissed in high school?”

You heat up then. “Oh…”

*****

The third time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, junior/sophomore year of HS- (Kuna age 17, Y/N age 16)

By this time, Sukuna already had a reputation, he was the bad boy, always in and out of trouble. He rode a ridiculous motorcycle around, and he always had the new flavor of his month on the back of it. You barely even knew a girl who hadn’t made out with Sukuna… or probably more, but you were not one to care.

Sukuna and you went from enemies to nothing. He quit picking on you, and in some fucked, weird way you missed it, any of his attention. Walking through the halls and seeing him with his arm around a new girl all the time filled you with some odd sensation you didn’t wanna think of.

It’s a party over at Gojo’s house tonight, his parties were kind of ridiculous because of just how rich he was, and he damn near lived all alone. There was an insane amount of people there, as you navigated the party with a red solo cup in your hands, so nervously, Yuuji came bouncing over to you waving with his happy little grin on his face.

“Hey!” He shouts your name, Megumi follows in tow, smiling just a bit, a mere quirk of the corner of his lips.

“Hey Yuuji, Megumi. Where’s Nobara?”

“She’s over there, about to play… suck and blow.” Yuuji snickers now, you giggle at him and roll your eyes, looking over as people are sucking on a debit card, passing it in a circle, you see Gojo there, kissing a girl then, making you blush a bit as they really go at it.

“Oh… that game sounds…”

“Germ ridden.” Megumi declares with a shiver, you snort in laughter then.

“Yes, germ ridden.” You agree, then your heart stops as Sukuna is right in the mix, he’s towering over everyone but Gojo, as he passes the card to and from the girls on either side of him. For some reason, every time you see him you get this feeling, it’s not butterflies, it’s vicious moths, aggressive and beating you. 

Yes, moths you think. Sukuna didn’t give butterflies.

He smirks at you like he just knows something all the time, and nothing could be more irritating. Seeing you now, Gojo shouts your name, waving you three over to the game, the table in front of them was littered with shot glasses and fallen empty cups. “Hey sweets!”

“Satoru, hey!” He gives you a big hug.

“Mwah!” You giggle as he kisses your forehead, Satoru Gojo is a touchy feely friend to damn near everyone, including Sukuna. “Thanks for coming, I know it’s not your scene.”

“I totally snuck out for this, it better be good.” You tease, and Satoru wiggles his brows, brushing back silky white hair, as Sukuna scowls at the gesture. He hated just how touchy he was with the girl Sukuna so secretly pined for.

But you certainly didn’t know he did, in fact Sukuna kept it such a good secret you thought he straight up hated you. Although the picking on you eased up some as you all got older, you’re just getting prettier, sweeter, smarter. You don’t hang out as much with Yuuji, and Sukuna misses you there. He has one class with you and he thinks he’s maybe said a handful of things to you this year.

“You can stand right… here.” Satoru moves another girl over between Yuuji and Megumi, and puts you smack dab between him and Sukuna, making you tense up as you look at him.

“Hah, why her?” Sukuna says then, your fists clench at your sides, Satoru lets out a little laugh.

“Prefer me next to you, baby boy?” He blows a kiss at Sukuna, and he grimaces, earning the laughter of everyone around, except you, feeling just how much Sukuna still can���t stand your presence, for whatever reason.

“God no, okay fine.”

“Yes, I know it's so terrible, huh?” You mumble, Satoru hands you the card then with a smirk.

“No way, you’re the best partner. Get started missy.” You suck on it then, pressing it between your lips and Satoru’s, as each of you passed the card. Along the way it falls across from you, and two people have to make out, everyone else has a drink. You cough just a bit at the burn of this god awful punch you’re sipping then, and Sukuna gives you that sardonic ass look.

“Can’t handle a drink, brat?”

“No, I never have…” He blinks a bit then.

“Oh, shit… why-”

“Pay attention, Sukuna.” Gojo calls, and he turns then, sucking on the card, then bending low, one hand brushing your shoulder as he blows the card on your lips, then you turn and go to blow the card onto Gojo’s as the card clatters to the table.

‘Ooooh’ everyone’s whispering and giggling as Satoru bends low, tilting your chin up to look up into his pretty blue eyes, Sukuna’s fury grows with every second, as he’s never seen you with anyone, thank god.

He could almost pretend you were his, that he didn’t get in his own way, that he doesn’t long after you for every moment of every day until this very moment. When Satoru leans down and kisses you, he feels it like a punch to the gut, something nauseating, seeing his hands on you.

His lips on yours.

Sukuna is downing a shot and having to look away when Satoru’s hand entangles in your hair at the nape of your neck. He’s never wanted so badly till take someone the fuck out, and for what? You’re not his, you probably never would be, it’s not like he has any reason to be this upset. But…

You’re gasping as Satoru kisses you deeply, slipping his tongue in between your lips, and your tummy flutters as he does. Satoru’s breath is sweet, and little does he know yet, he’s your first kiss, then and there in front of countless people. He pulls back with a little smile, his snowy lashes lower over his eyes, as you try to gather yourself, he leans in against your ear.

“You’re a good kisser, sweets.” You smile a bit, laughing breathlessly.

“My first.”

“No way!?” He pulls back and blinks a bit, eyes looking at the huge, furious pink haired man behind you. Satoru smirks mischievously, it’s no secret to him or any of Sukuna’s friends how bad he has it. “I’ll keep it secret.”

Satoru crosses his chest with his fingers in the sign of a cross, and you exhale in relief. “Thank you. Shots?”

“Shots!” You both down shots with everyone, and then Satoru picks up the game again, as you turn just a bit to see Sukuna glaring down at you.

“Something wrong?” You ask curiously, and he laughs then, a mocking sound, shaking his head.

“Why would shit be wrong?”

“Right, you didn’t have to kiss me.” You say with a pat on his arm, and he gulps down more of his drink, before his hand crushes the solo cup.

“Tch.” He says nothing as the card hits him again, and you almost assume it will fall, that he’ll kiss someone, but it doesn’t, not until it hits you, then the card clatters to the fucking ground, leaving you looking up at him wide eyed.

“Oooh, those two!?” Someone says, and everyone stares at you both, it’s obvious Sukuna’s a bully to you, and that you can’t stand him.

“Two kisses in one game already?” Satoru teases, you bite your lip then, looking at Sukuna’s mouth, set in a line.

“You don’t have to.” You say softly, and Sukuna snatches you up against him then, shocking you, your eyes fly to his.

“Think I’m scared, brat?” He whispers.

“I think you don’t want to.” You whisper back, and you expect it, some retort of his, but he slams his lips down on yours, taking over every sense you’ve ever had, tasting your lips and tongue as he devours you then. It’s not sweet and sensual like Satoru, it’s full of everything he’s ever felt, pouring in your lips.

Your hand slides up his arm, across a bicep, thumb brushing it when his two hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer. He kisses you hard and brutal, his hands tightening to a bruising touch as he practically growls into your mouth, his tongue moving against yours. You don’t even know what you’re doing, but it feels all consuming.

It’s wild and fiery, and you can feel his heart slamming in his chest, his breathing heavy as yours come in shallow pants, and it’s like everything stops around you. You can’t remember everyone is watching you, can’t be embarrassed when a hand slips up your spine, and he tilts his head to get better access to your mouth. You can’t hear any of the whispers, not with your heart pounding in your ears.

You don’t know why you’re kissing him back with such fervor, why your arms are wrapped around his neck, the boy you hate, right? The boy who’s made school awful at times, who loves to fuck with you almost every day, you think maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the thrill of it all, but as your kiss ends you know you’re wrong. Kisses don’t feel like this, do they?

He pulls back, damn near ready to tear into you here and there in front of everyone, something feral happening to him, Sukuna has already been with a couple of girls, but he never felt anything more intense than kissing you, then seeing your reddened plump lips, swollen from him. It drives his high school brain absolutely erratic, when he cups your face, looking how small you are compared to him.

He pictures lifting you and-

“Okay, okay… calm down or get a room.” Satoru teases, as Yuuji and Megumi have their jaws on the damn floor. 

Everything is spinning now, not from the alcohol but from that kiss, from the intensity of his emotions crashing into yours. You pull away, panting, and his eyes are so dark then, his pupils dilated with something you’ve never seen before. Is it… desire? Is it… curiosity? It feels like something more… something…

You blush furiously, clearing your throat when you realize you’re just standing there with your mouth open, in front of an entire party. Sukuna doesn’t stop staring at you, in fact he can’t rip his eyes off you, nor does he take his hands off you, as you tremble now, goosebumps where his touch still sits on your skin.

“I need some air… too many kisses.” You manage, before running out then, struggling to get a breath, the tiny amount of alcohol is coursing through your veins, mixing with the heat from Sukuna’s kisses.

You’re inhaling the night air greedily, looking up at the starry sky, shaking your head as you cover your overheated face. You’d kissed Satoru and Sukuna, and Satoru had been so fun, so sweet and exciting. But what the actual heck was that with Sukuna!? What was this feeling you can’t shake, you can’t cope with!?

Sukuna dies to go after you, to finish everything he started, to kiss your face, your neck, perhaps more if you were ready. He would be happy just kissing you though, nothing else, if you offered just that, because he’s never felt it. Satoru, Suguru and his other friends are all snickering at him now.

“Go after her, Romeo.” Suguru says, and Sukuna glares at him.

“What? Why?”

“C’mon man, we all saw. Looked like you’d eat her.” Satoru says.

“In more ways than one?” Suguru chimes in, earning Sukuna’s angry glare, he shakes his head then. “Oh stop this… she’s hot, why not go for it?”

“She’s the bane of my existence. A kiss doesn’t change that.”

“She’s available then?” Satoru asks teasingly, as you’re walking back up, getting a drink poured by Nobara.

“Of course she is… it was just a kiss in a game.” You hear him then, and Nobara instantly has her hand comfortingly on your back.

“Don’t pay attention, he clearly was into you.” She murmurs, Satoru eyes you both then, before looking back at Sukuna.

“So if I ask her out you’re cool with it buddy?” He teases with a big grin.

“If you what!?”

“Mmm, ask her out. If you don’t even like her that way?” Sukuna sputters now, and everyone’s whispering about him, about the kiss.

“Why ask me?” He huffs with disdain, and you quietly join back in, this time on the other side of Satoru, Sukuna notices it furiously, making a show of kissing the next girl as the card drops again.

You hate how you feel about it, about him.

As you’re dancing later with Satoru, you watch him sitting on the couch with two girls on his lap, but his eyes are laser focused on you, every motion you make with your hips in a figure eight motion. You feel his eyes like a brand on your skin, like he’s undressing you with them, but he doesn’t come near you, you’re both just across the room, with the energy between you.

The amount of times Sukuna replays this in his mind over and over, the kiss that destroyed him. But instead of telling you how he feels, he says nothing, watching as you move on, and as he pretends he is as well, but is he really? Will he ever be?

*****

You’re remembering the kiss vividly, Sukuna watches your eyes go fuzzy, as you both pull up to his place. You just sit there, nervously shiting in his lap. “Those were… my first kisses. Isn’t that insane?”

“What was insane was that I wanted to kill him for kissing you, I wanted to kill anyone who touched you, kissed you.”

“You did?” You ask softly, he nods then, smirking just a bit.

“Best kiss I had.”

“What!?”

“I should have told you. Not acted like…

“A dick?”

“That mouth, brat.” He is glaring as you giggle. “I acted like I didn’t care, but I did… and your bratty ass dated Satoru after that!?”

“Well, he was sweet and asked me out. What’d you expect me to wait for you to figure it out?”

“Yes.” You both laugh softly then, his strokes up and down your spine making you long for more and more of him, every bit of his body, his touch, his heart.

“Three stories down, why don’t I…” You trail your fingers down his dress shirt, over his rippling abdomen. “Return that favor?”

“Killing me, brat.” He exhales, and soon you’re kissing in his elevator, as you ride up to his fancy penthouse, your breath catching at it. “Ya like?”

“Damn, you’re like rich!?”

Sukuna throws his head back, sliding his jacket off you then, eyeing your skin hungrily, thinking of all the ways he wants to kiss it, bite it, taste it. “Yeah, I’m fucking rich.”

“So humble too.”

“Why should I be? Fuck that.” He then hands you a glass of water, making your eyes narrow.

“Rich as fuck and I get water!?”

“It’s Evian.”

“Psh, where’s the liquor stash?”

He brushes your hair back then, gently. “Want you fully aware for the last two stories, yeah? Then you can have another if you want.”

“Yes, dad.” You tease, then his nostrils flare, making your lips turn up as you watch his reaction. “You like to be called Daddy don’t ya, freaky Kuna?”

Sukuna’s scowl just deepens, as he crosses his arms. “Oh shut that mouth, swear to god.”

“Shut me up- mnh!” Sukuna’s grabbed you right under your chin, squeezing your throat just so, as his free hand grips your ass.

“You listen to this one, I’ll let you suck me. And the last one, I’ll finally lick that pretty pussy.” You whine when he finds your slick heat over your panties, everything going just a little fuzzy. “Fuck you in positions you’ve never heard of.”

“All talk.” He lets you go, shaking his head, kissing you deeply again, you are falling into it, into how good he feels, letting it all surround you.

“Ya know I’m not, admit it.”

“Shush.” You take your water with a shaky hand, drinking it then.

“Good girl.”

Good girl!?

You can’t handle that from him, can’t handle the heat pouring between your thighs, in your tummy, making you ache for him more and more. “This story was about a time you didn’t have water, and you were all over me.”

You draw a blank then, shaking your head. “Psh, what!?”

“Mmhmm. Come, sit down.” He guides you over to an elegant living room, with a spacious black couch, everything sleek and modern, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the night sky.

“Beautiful.” You murmur softly, touching the clear glass for just a moment, he comes up behind you, kissing across your neck.

“I’ll fuck you on this window, let everyone have a show.”

“What!?”

“Let ‘em know you’re mine this time.”

“Sukuna!” You are dragged to the couch, sat down right next to him, his arm around you.

“Sip more water. So thirsty.”

“I really hate you.”

“You say that…”

“Yeah.” He tilts your chin up with two fingers, pressing his lips over yours over and over, little sweet kisses you don’t expect. “Mmm, so… remember your first frat party?”

“Barely! Oh shit I think I got drunk.”

“Oh yeah you did.

*****

The fourth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your senior year HS, his Freshman year college (Kuna age 19, Y/N age 18)

“Y’know… S-Sukuna… fuck you’re kinda hot!?” You’re stumbling as you speak to Sukuna that night, dressed in some mini skirt and crop top, showing everything. You make him furious, showing that body that seems to get prettier every year, the top showcasing far too much of your pretty breasts, the skirt showing too much of your sexy thighs.

Thighs he’d die to have wrapped around his head.

“What now, brat?” He demands, and you giggle, clearly shitfaced, you never partied so you’re an insane lightweight. And your friend is currently making out in a corner, leaving you stumbling over to him in heels that make no sense for you, for the girl he’s known so long. “What’s with the skank fit?”

“Fuck you I’m hot.” You giggle, doing a spin, and then nearly falling, Sukuna catches you with an arm around your waist, warm body pressed against his.

“That alcohol spiking that confidence?”

“Jus’ because you don’t think- m’hot doesn’t mean… m’not k?” You toss down your drink, giggling breathlessly, looking up at him with dilated eyes.

“When have I said you’re not?” He asks softly, guiding you away from the crowd, from the eyes of too many hungry frat boys. You somehow end up on his lap, arms around his neck, giggling and scrunching that cute ass nose of yours.

“You’ve said m’pretty like once. In middle school? Thass it, Kuna.”

“God, don’t call me that, drunky.” He brushes your hair back then, and you pause, inhaling just a bit, sudden clarity in a brief drunk haze. “You’re the prettiest brat there is, yeah? You’re gonna forget this. So fuck it.”

“The prettiest brat?” You repeat, and he smiles, nodding, before hissing when you shift, straddling him.

“The fuck are you doing!?” He demands, hands pressing on your waist, while you lean your face low, breath against his lips.

“Jus- wanna kiss. Or more… always wanted you to be-”

“Shh, stop.” He puts a hand on your mouth, shaking his head. “You’re shitfaced, don’t go saying dumb shit.”

You lick at his palm, giggling again, moving your hips, he feels your heat against his cock over his jeans, making him throb then. He was no virgin, far from it, but you make him blush. You make him tremble, and he hates this effect, that you so casually have, and don’t even know you possess.

Since he met you, you’ve done things to him, things that have him jerking it to images of you, memories of you. Practicing all the ways he’d take that virginity of yours back in the day, knowing he was a fucking idiot. Thinking of how he’s stretch that surely tight little hole, how he’s make you his.

But you dated boys, he dated girls.

You lived your life in your lane, he lived his.

You both rarely crossed, aside from your friendship with his brother and mutual friends, he doesn’t think he’d see you. He barely does now, and the way you’re looking at him addles his mind, short circuits his brain chemistry. God the things he wants to do with you…

But…

“You’re trashed.”

“I’m pretty to you.” You murmur, lips far too close, he can practically taste jello shots on you.

“You are.” He figures fuck it, what’s it matter?

You won’t remember.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, finally, after so many years, and you blink rapidly, sobering up almost it seemed, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks as they lower, as you take a breath.

“You think so?” You whisper.

“I know so, fuck who doesn’t?” He holds you still when you wiggle. “Don’t fucking do that, please.”

“Don’t wanna fuck me, Kuna? Don’t you fuck whoever?”

“Fuck you…” He trails off. Fucking you isn’t what he’d do, and he damn well knows it too well.

He’d lose himself in you.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, hmm?” He asks, husky voice breaking.

“What do you think?” You grind on him, his head falls back, moaning as you kiss up his throat, making his hands grip you bruising. “Haven’t I wanted to for s’long, Kuna… wanted y’inside me…”

“Shut the fuck up.” He shoves at you again, ruby eyes narrowing as he looks at your flushed cheeks and glittery eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“So you need to get home. Nobara.” She looks up at the shout of her name, eyes wide when she sees you, gently pulling you now.

“Come on baby.”

“No, he wants me, look at him.” You giggle again, and Nobara can’t stop the smirk on her face.

“He does, but… you’re too tired, yeah?” You look at her, then Sukuna, yawning then and nodding as she eases you up.

“Am I?”

“You are. Say goodnight, remember you can’t stand Sukuna, yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You blink again, stumbling against your friend, Sukuna’s hand cups your face gently.

“Good night, drunk brat.” He kisses your head, shocking you even in your drunk state, before looking at Nobara. “Got a ride?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Sukuna…” She whispers then.

“Hmm?”

“Just let her go if you don’t want to be with her. She deserves more than this… pining away for you.” Sukuna gulps at Nobara’s words.

“I…”

“She’s amazing, you know.”

“Yeah, I fucking know. Trust me.” She sighs, as you snuggle to her, blissfully unaware of the conversation, just mumbling how good Nobara smells.

“She wants to go to another university, but she’ll go here to see you. Let. Her. Go.” Sukuna watches you stumble away, feeling it like a knife to his chest.

God it was difficult to let you go, but were you wasting your chances for someone like him?

*****

“I literally don’t remember it…” You murmur softly then, while Sukuna’s fingers run lazily over your shoulders, sipping more water. “I think I remember sitting on your lap but it’s a blur?”

“Yeah, it was… hard…”

You’re laughing then. “Sorry!”

“Hard in many ways, sure. To turn this down?” You heat up under his praise now, so open for you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Look at you.” You’re kissing him then, again, you could just keep kissing Sukuna, forever and ever you feel like. Like nothing could rip you from him, when you’re straddling his lap like that night, and he’s exhaling against your lips.

“What was the thing you should’ve said?” You whisper, rolling your hips, grinding your pussy on his shaft, he groans, kissing down the plump curve of your breast, sinking his teeth and making your head fall back.

“I did say it…” He grins, looking at the little teeth marks in your skin.

“Wh-what was it?”

“That you’re beautiful, and fuck you are.” You whimper when he yanks down your top, revealing your puffy nipples, taut and perky with want. “Oh my… fuck…”

He’s sucking one into his hot mouth now, your hands entangled in pastel locks, hips rocking for more and more, he’s dying to sink into you, and you’re dying for him to fill you. “Thank you, Kuna… and… did I say anything that…”

“You kept saying how hot I am.”

“You are, fuck you are. Sexiest man I’ve seen.”

“Damn, simp much?”

“Hate you!” You shove at him and he’s chuckling, kissing back down your breasts, sighing.

“You don’t hate me, shut it. Should we put that mouth to better fucking use?” He asks, and you nod eagerly. “You’re gonna obey that easily? Want it so bad?”

“Oh fuck you and your stories.” You slip down, one knee on one side of him, as you unzip him slowly, he hisses when his cock juts out of the jeans, of his boxers, so heavy and thick. You pause briefly, blushing when you see it, a tattoo around the base of his fucking cock, and a piercing on the tip.

“Cat got your tongue, slut?”

“Slut? You have a slutty tattoo on your slutty dick. And this? This…” You moan then, kneeling between his thighs spread, looking up at him so pretty then his heart flips in his chest, he’s as nervous if not more than he was when he was a virgin. Looking how beautiful you are, face resting on his thigh.

“Then put this slutty cock in your slutty mouth, huh?” You eagerly do as he says, taking him into your mouth slowly, teasing the piercing with your tongue, tasting his precum, salty and bitter, coating your tastebuds. “Mmgh, yeah, like that, pretty little whore.”

His words really should infuriate you, but you love it, jerking his hips up as you suck harder, faster, feeling his hands tighten in your hair, and god he’s losing his fucking mind, and it’s all because of you.

You love it, love the way he’s looking at you with lidded ruby eyes, as he fucks up into your mouth, alternating between gently cupping your cheek and shoving your throat down on his cock, all while looking at you. His eyes never leave your face, you hear his breaths, feel him tense. It’s intoxicating, feeling his cock swell and pulse in your mouth, feeling his eyes on you, watching you take him deep.

“So pretty, look at you, taking cock s’good. S’hungry for it, huh?” He’s mumbling now, trying to be so sure, so dominating of you, and he does, but he’s vulnerable, as your little fingers press against his thighs, as you’re sucking him so deeply. You breathe through your nose, feeling him get harder, impossibly harder, as you take him more and more.

Your cunt is pulsing around nothing, thinking of everything you’ve wanted, listening to him mumbling praise, watching that red streak from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. To make Sukuna blush was something so heady you couldn’t explain it, not as you keep sucking, as you slip his dress shirt up just a bit, revealing the hard, perfect planes of his abdomen.

“Fuck, you’re good at that, hmm?” He whispers, his eyes half lidded, his voice gruff and rough, so fucking sexy, and you moan around his cock, nodding. He’s so fucking big and it’s a struggle to take him all in, but you’re keep trying to, go even deeper, watching his breath hitch, his hips buck upwards. He keeps whispering your name until he yanks you off.

“Lemme suck you off, Kuna.” You plead, and he laughs insanely now, shaking his head as he looks down at you.

“Ya gotta be that good at this!? I’m mad you ever sucked anyone.” He grumbles, glaring now, you pout as he pulls you off, hands firm on your ass when he sits you back on him, and now he’s adjusting himself back in.

“Really!? Not another story, Kuna… I need to tell you my own shit.” You murmur, he puts a finger to your lips, shaking his head.

“I’m almost done, last story yeah? Then…” He rubs your cunt over your panties, so damp they’re sticking to your plump lips pathetically. “Then I’ll make her feel so fucking good, so good I promise.”

“You suck.” You say with a pout, earning another smirk as you try to catch your breath, leaning back against him. “Okay, one more, and only one.”

“You’re such a little-”

“Kuna…”

“A little… pretty ass bitchy ass-”

“Sukuna, I swear to god I’ll hit you.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow.

“You’re a little bitch.”

“Swear to-”

“I should go.”

“You aren’t going any fucking where. C’mere.” He yanks you back down, as you huff in anger. “I’ll give her what she needs, have some patience. All fuckin night and day, just wait a little longer, huh?”

“F-fine.” You look down demurely, as Sukuna sighs, shutting his eyes.

“The last time we saw each other. Remember?”

“Shit…”

*****

The fifth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your Sophomore year of college, his Junior (Kuna 21, Y/N 20)

You weren’t even in the same college as Sukuna, but you still saw him, from time to time. You were close with Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara, and that meant sometimes seeing Sukuna, a girl on either side of him as he’s throwing pong balls into cups, and everyone is cheering for him.

Jock Sukuna.

Frat leader Sukuna.

Asshole hoe ass Sukuna.

You resent him, you hate it but you do, he’s popular and still somehow a huge asshole, he hasn’t changed a damn bit and people fawned over him, girls were all lining up for their turn, all except you. You’re glad you went to a different university, even if you missed your friends, it means you got to miss him being such a whore blatantly in front of the world.

He kissed one, then the other, like they’re both his girlfriends, chuckling until he catches sight of you.

You.

You make his heart race, wanting to thump right out of his fucking chest, tightening it so bad he can’t breathe for a moment. You’re in this gorgeous little dress, too fancy and pretty for some stupid ass frat party. He watches the eyes of everyone on you avidly as you smile, starting to get surrounded by his curious frat brothers, making his murder instincts kick into high gear.

When would everyone figure out you’re his? Shit, when would either of you figure it out, that this is what it was?

That he was in love with you.

That he’s been in love with you, since the first day you ran into the hall, over ten years back, when you’d had hurt in your eyes and your lower lip trembled. Loved you every minute of every day, and every day he falls deeper and deeper into being an idiot, drowning you away with cheap beer and endless annoying girls. Girls he couldn’t care less about, but they were safe bets.

They weren’t you.

Your eyes catch his across the room, sipping on your drink then, smiling up as your friends come to talk to you. Sukuna has maybe seen you three times this entire year, and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t miss, god he misses picking on you, he misses that scowl you give him, the way you cross your arms.

He leaves the girls next to him, much to their dismay, walking up to you now, and your lips part as your drink sits just a bit down by your side, looking up at him with eyes that haunt his every fucking dream. Your body looks so good he can’t help but picture it naked in every position under him, while he says your name softly.

“Hey, Sukuna.” You manage to sound casual, while he’s shirtless, his already chiseled body buffer than you remember, tattoos already on his abdomen and wrists, ones that weren’t there before, that just make him sexier.

Fuck Sukuna.

Fuck him for being all you think about even now, when you have college, a part time job, a whole life. And you lay there, and think of him, picture him in ways that make you touch yourself, not knowing he’s jerking it in his dorm room to you, sometimes simultaneously, but of course neither of you has figured any of it out.

Clueless.

“You should… play?” He suggests, your brows draw together in confusion.

“Why are you being friendly?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You sigh then, shaking your head and walking away, making his jaw clench. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” You stomp away, and Sukuna chases you, into a room now, shutting the door behind you, you peek around and realize you’re somehow in his room when you see the familiar things you’ve seen his whole life. His game system, his guitar… his collection of panties? “Jesus.”

“Yeah it’s a thing we do.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, and you shake your head, turning to look up at him.

“Does it make you feel cool? Fucking the cheerleading squad?”

“Maybe it does. What do you care!?”

“I don’t.”

“Good.” He says.

“Good.” You agree, then you’re on each other, kissing each other hungrily, his hands gripping your ass, as you drink his moans.

“Why do you gotta act like this?”

“Like what, not easy?” You whisper, pulling back, and he groans, down on his knees suddenly, making you gasp, as he’s just a breath away from your hot, eager little pussy, lifting your skirt and moaning when he sees the damp spot. “What… are…”

“Lemme finally shut you the fuck up, brat.” He whispers, yanking them to the side just as the door tumbles open, you jerk back so fast as giggling girls pour in. “Don’t… get off me, fuck.” He’s shouting your name, chasing you, but you can’t get out of there fast enough.

What were you about to do!?

“Come back, fuck!” He’s yanking you by your wrist, and you scowl up at him. “Just let me… we’ll get a room, or…”

“No, thank god they came in. I’m an idiot, I have been. Down to be a notch in your stupid bedpost.”

“You’d never be-”

“Good bye Sukuna.” You leave him with watery eyes and a trembling lip, and he hates you more.

*****

You both sit there, staring at each other then, quietly, so much left unsaid over so many years, so much between you both. Your breaths make both of your chests rise and fall, while you wait with bated breath, feeling every bit of his energy consuming you, still tasting him on your lips, his pants still unzipped, your dress still tugging down your breasts just so.

“I was harsh.”

“Nah, you were real with me.”

“What did you want to say, then?” You ask quietly, and Sukuna curses, standing then, walking you back more and more until your shoulder blades hit the cool glass of his window, and you gasp, looking up at him. His gaze is hungry, it’s intense, looking right through you, seeing you. All of you.

“What I should have said, so many times… is that… I fucking love you, okay? In love with you. Stupid in love. Down bad like a little bitch.”

“What!?”

“You really couldn’t fucking tell!?”

You try to process his words, shaking your head now, tears welling up as the emotions hit you. “Like… in love?”

“Didn’t I say it, brat? Ya want some one knee shit, it’ll be eating your pussy, like I should have that night.” He murmurs, and soon he’s kissing you, hungry, desperate, hands touching every inch of you he can. “Love you, brat. Always have.”

“Sukuna…”

“Shh.” He turns you then, unzipping your dress, big hands darting across your back, your waist, your hips, turning you then to face him, leaving you in nothing but soaked panties and a lacy bra. “Should’ve told you, I love you. You’re beautiful, so beautiful you fucking wreck me.”

“Kuna…” He’s moaning again, red eyes bright as he rips your bra off, revealing your pretty breasts to his hungry gaze, cupping them, resting his forehead on yours.

“I was a fucking ass to you, a dick. A bully. A shit.”

“Kuna…”

“Shut up. You don’t have to feel the same, it can just be a fuck if you want, I’ll give you anything.” You’re whimpering, when he’s kneeling, just like that night, his breath hot against your inner thigh, when he runs calloused fingers down your soft skin, eliciting a cry. “I’ll let you fuck my face and thank you, make me so pathetic.”

“Sukuna!” You shout finally, yanking at his hair, pulling his head back to look at you, and he exhales now.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too, you idiot.” He pauses, heart slamming in his chest, and you just nod weakly, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I’ve always loved you, mean ass.”

“Fuck…” He rips your panties off.

“They’re expensive!”

“I’ll buy you all the ones you want, slutty fucking brat. Put this pretty pussy on my goddamn face, now.” He orders, lifting a thigh, swiping a stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, making you scream out, head falling back against the window he’s so shamelessly eating you out against. “Taste so goddamn good, fuck you.”

“F-fuck you, Kuna… just… will you… ah!” He smacks your pussy then, glaring up at you, as you manage a little pathetic scowl.

“Shut it brat, now. Lemme take my time, shit.” He’s back down there, parting your plump lips, dying at just how pretty your pussy is, how the wetness is just oozing. He sips up the syrupy wetness with the tip of his tongue, moaning at your taste, before slipping up to your clit, slowly circling.

“Mnph!” You’re barely able to make a noise, when Sukuna buries his face against you, nose bumping your little twitchy clit, tongue slipping up into your hole, as his hands squish your thighs, pinning you in place. “Ah!”

You feel that grin against you as he sips you up, drinking you, youre eyes are rolling, back, fucking toes curling as he nips your clit then with his sharp teeth, eliciting a slutty moan from your throat. “That’s it, cum all over m’face, slutty lil fuckin brat.”

You can’t even retort, you can’t function when his tongue is flicking the underside of your clit, and he’s watching you with those bright red eyes under those pastel lashes, working you so well you can barely stand. You’re gasping, gripping his hair so hard you’re pulling it, only making his cock harder for you, your eyes shut when you earn another wet smack on your cunt.

“Ah-ah,look at me when I’m eating you out, brat. I wanna see you fall apart f’me, just me, only me.” Sukuna’s possessive words and another smack earn you looking down at him, eyes locking with his. “Ha, that’s it.”

His tongue is flicking and pressing against your clit, when he curls two fingers up inside your gummy walls, cum drooling down his black painted nails, all the way to his rolex watch, cold against your heated skin as he pumps and pumps. “M’gonna… oh my g-god…”

“That’s it, cum like a pretty lil’ fuckin whore, hmm? Just f’me.” He orders, filthy words spitting from his mouth when he curls his fingers just so inside your soppy little cunt, and you shatter then as he works you like he’s always known you, sucking your little clit in his hot mouth.

“Kuna!” You scream out his name as you come, thighs trembling around his neck, eyes rolling back in your skull, panting when he fucks you with his fingers even faster, pushing you from one orgasm into another. “Too much!”

He doesn’t relent, he’s fingering and devouring you simultaneously until you’re a weak, pathetic mess, sweat making your hair stick to your brow, you’re trembling and shaking as it makes you see stars. You’re not even holding yourself up anymore, he’s got an arm around your hips, moaning against you.

“Sukuna, I l-love you.” You mumble weakly, and he chuckles, tickling your oversensive cunt.

“I know you do, baby.” He whispers back, kissing your inner thigh, licking your pussy clean of all your cum before he stands, and you’re taking off his dress shirt with shaky fingers, so shaky he smacks at them. “Can’t even function huh?”

“F-fuck off…” You can’t function, though, you can’t form a coherent thought in an already fucked out brain as he rips off that damn shirt, showing a buff, perfect body, littered in new tattoos you haven’t even seen. He’s quick to get naked, and pick you right up in his arms like you’re nothing. “H-here!?”

“Everyone already got a show.” He smirks, tip nudging your soppy entrance, you’re shivering as you cling to his shoulders, whining desperately. “Wanna give em a better show? Want everyone to see you dripping my cum?”

“Yes.” At your husky admission he grins.

“Slutty little brat. Oh my… fuck…” He can’t take it, when he starts to press inside you, and you’re screaming out at the stretch, as he feels your slick cunt grip him like a vise. “You’re s-so f-fucking…”

“Fuck me, please, please.” You beg, tears in your eyes now, and Sukuna won’t deny you shit, not when you’re begging so pretty, no he fucks into you, hard, thrusting his cock so deep his tip kisses your cervix. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.” He moans right with you, exhaling as he looks into your glassy, dilated eyes, so dilated all he sees are the outer rings of your irises when he sinks so deep in your eager pussy. “Ya feel like this, the whole time could’ve been putting babies in this?”

“Kuna!? The f- y-yes! Yes!” You’re screaming as he pounds his cock, so thick it’s stretching you out so hard it hurts, it burns, wearing you down with each pump, the sounds of your slutty cunt echoing in his immaculate fucking penthouse. You’re cumming before he can play with your clit, something that’s never happened, he hits so hard you don’t even need it.

When you cum, pulsing all around him he tenses, pulling then, setting you on the floor and turning you, pressing your tits against the glass as he bends down, lifting your ass up and fucking into you, your hands leaving prints on spotless glass. He’s moaning as his muscles flex, as he pumps his thick, long cock so deep, and you’re throwing your head back, screaming.

“That’s it, again baby, lemme feel your slutty fucking cunt grip me.” He huffs, leaning over the glass and fucking into you, two hands gripping your hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples of your back, as he rails you harder and harder. You’re gasping, twitching, unable to even stand, practically falling on the glass overlooking the night sky.

When Sukuna’s gotten another orgasm, he pulls out again, carrying you like you’re nothing until you’re in his bed, and he’s climbing on top of you, so intimate in this moment, cock drooling with your drippy wetness. He’s entwining a hand with yours, the other grabbing his cock, putting it back inside, your already sore little hole, and you gasp, clinging to him.

“S’good… s’good I…” You can’t form a word, when he’s pressing your thighs up higher and higher, watching the bulge in your tummy at his huge cock wrecking you, making him harder, his precum pouring, cock twitching.

“That’s it, cunt screamin’ just f’me, fuckin’ hear it huh?” Sukuna whispers, eyes and face practically feral, fucking you harder, deeper, as he presses your thighs until you’re folded in half under him. “Answer me, huh? Too fucked out?”

“F-fuck… y-you… K-Kuna you- yes!” You’re whimpering out when he pounds his cock even deeper, and you hear it, the squelching wetness of your soaking cunt, the slap of his balls on your ass, as his face drips sweat right down onto your own, and you’re crying it feels so good.

“Crying sexy!? Is anything ya do not sexy… slutty brat… swear I’ll ruin you for fuckin anyone, yeah?” You just nod weakly, sniffling when Sukuna cups your face between his huge hands, pounding deeper and deeper in your hole, and he’s finally slowing, laughing. “Milking me?”

“Whass that… Kuna…” Your words are jumbled as the man you’ve loved forever beats your poor little cunt up, as he fucks velvety walls until they’re aching, rubbing your walls so good, hitting just that fucking spot, over and over, ridge of that drooly tip sending you.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself, can you? So pathetic, c-can’t stop cummin…” He’s huffing now, leaning over you, so big and strong you feel so damn tiny under him, his power, the way he moves, the way he fucks you like he owns your pussy.

“Ngh…” You can’t speak anymore, it’s all sounds, whines, whimpers.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna be dripping me for days huh? Want me to, don’t ya brat?” He holds your thighs up so high you could hardly breathe, as he works your cunt harder, grinding against you when his tip bruises your cervix. “Answer me, now, use those words.”

“Fill me, please.” You whisper, and he moans, smirking then, leaning so that his lips are a breath away.

“Want me to breed that slutty pussy?”

“Yes.” Sukuna folds then, busting so deep in your cunt, filling you to the brim with his endless spurts of hot cum, until you can’t stand it, so hot and full, you feel Sukuna fucking everywhere. He’s still pumping now, kissing you, moaning his pleasure as your thighs shake against him.

“That’s it, taking it so good aren’t ya baby? Cunt so eager. Slutty.” You just nod weakly, and he laughs. “That's how I shut you up? Could have been doing it.”

“You love my mouth.” You counter, earning his chuckle, when he finally eases your thighs down, kissing you just a bit softer, your nails that have been pressing and leaving marks on his back relaxes now, as you both breathe together, slower and slower.

“I do love it.”

“You love me.”

“Don’t get too annoying about it.” You giggle, and he adores the way your nose scrunches. “Fucking cute.”

“Yeah?” He nods, finally admitting it, what’s been in his heart so long he doesn’t know how he handled it, the lightness he feels of you knowing is so amazing he can’t put it in words.

“Yeah.” Is all he says for now, kissing you again. Soon he’s in the shower with you, ‘cleaning’ you, as he’s drinking your pussy right up on his knees, as the hot spray falls down.

Then, Sukuna is fucking you right on his shower wall, and you’re clinging to him desperately, as his cock works you in ways you could have never known. “Gonna forget anything, anyone, just me, brat.” He huffs in your ear.

Later, it’s no longer Valentine’s day, shit it’s maybe three am? But Sukuna isn’t done with your pussy, no he’s far from it, having you on your hands and knees on his bed as he fucks you, slapping your ass over and over, leaving hand prints. Then he’s prone bone over you, wrapping long fingers around your throat, squeezing as you gasp and cum all over his cock.

“Put a fuckin baby in ya, huh? Want that, don’t ya?” He’s huffing that morning, not like either of you have slept, and he’s laying behind you, you were supposed to cuddle but Sukuna has catching up to do with you, so he’s cradling you, fucking you with your one leg up over his thigh.

“Want it… want it…” You’re throwing your head back, while he’s fucking one load of cum out and pumping more into you, until you’re a sobbing mess, and Sukuna could still go, but you’re passing out, weak and snuggling him.

“You’re so… beautiful.” He whispers as you snore lightly, before rolling his eyes. “And annoying.”

“Hmm.” You mumble, when he shoves at you, and your eyes adjust to the man you’ve always loved, smiling just a little soft for a moment. “You love me.”

“Shut it brat. Stop snoring or I’ll kick you out.” You just giggle, kissing him.

“Shh. Love you Kuna.” You murmur, falling asleep on his chest, feeling for the first time in forever like the puzzle pieces have fallen together, and Sukuna watches you until his heavy eyes knock him out with you, snoring even louder than you. When you wake to him eating your pussy, all puffy and sore, you wonder just what you’re in for.

“Taste us, fuck.” He drinks you up, leaning over, spitting in your mouth then, you gasp at it, at his insane grin. “Taste s’yummy, huh?”

“How about g’morning, hmm?” You manage, coughing just a bit, and he’s nudging his broad shoulders back between your thighs.

“Nah, fuck that.” He buries his face against your pussy, your hands entangling in his messy locks, back arching.

“Please.” You whisper, soon he’s working over you, hand wrapping your throat, as he shoves that thick cock in your sore little pussy over and over, until you’re both losing the day in each other.

And that was the last time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, but this time it worked, and you felt the same the entire time

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Art in the banner is from WynnChan270 on Deviant art- if you find them on tumblr plz lmk so I can credit here! <3

If you enjoy I'd love to hear your thoughts I put a lot on this onnne

[ascrewupromantic]

all i want is to get hellsitegeneticsed. i want to know what kind of creature my post is. god i want it to be something cool sooooooooo bad do you think they have the genetic code for werewolves

[ascrewupromantic]

i’ve never been drawn to an ateez fic like this but i’m loving it. i love being the center of attention!! yippee!!’

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Chapter 2: The Decision

Chapter 3: First Day

Chapter 4: Finding Your Place

Chapter 5: Unspoken Connections

Chapter 6: Unexpected Reactions

Chapter 7: Ripple Effect

Chapter 8: Rising Heat

Chapter 9: Breaking Point

Chapter 10: Unveiled

Chapter 11: Walls Fall Down

Chapter 12: Awakening

Chapter 13: Omega Eyes

Chapter 14: Recognition

Chapter 15: Overwhelming Need

Chapter 16: Instinct

Chapter 17: Breaking Point

Bonus: Alpha’s Downfall

Chapter 18: The Wooyoung Effect

Chapter 19: New Boundaries

Chapter 20: Hidden Pages

Chapter 21: Pack Cardio

Chapter 22: Forever

Chapter 23: Taking Control

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💜 Thank you all for the love on this! Please reblog and recommend this fic if you love it! I update every day or every other day!💜

[ascrewupromantic]

reblog if ur mom is smart and beautiful

[ascrewupromantic]

the most fun a girl can have is finding parallels, noticing patterns, making connections, contemplating

[ascrewupromantic]

[ascrewupromantic]

AND MY BODY HAD A REACTION LIKE-

5 o' clock, zayne

[ascrewupromantic]

ⓘ Tip You can skip part of the day by taking a nap.

[ascrewupromantic]

oh. (i love you choso)

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo…☆ ◝

Snippet | “Press up a little… Okay um… try curling your finger—like, hook it up.”

꒰ Desc | Stressed after work? No problem ➜ until your favorite comfort item goes missing, and luckily your socially awkward roommate has a solution that leaves you unraveling in more ways than one.

꒰ CW | MDNI 18+ ꒱ Smútノangst, implied inexperienced! Choso, avoidant attachment! Reader, scént k⋆nk, pra⋆sé, m!ld bėgg!ng, s⋆zé k⋆nk, dry húmpúíng, spít, góóner! Choso, bràtty(ish)! Reader, ń⋆ppIe pIay, scént k⋆ńk, s⋆ze k⋆ńk, p⋆ssess!vé behavior, hint of geek! Choso, multiple big o’s, petnames, tèás!ng, b⋆dy w⋆rship, delayed O, squ⋆rt⋆ngノcr⋆⋆m⋆ng, óvèrst⋆múlat⋆ón, f⋆⋆t wórsh!p, túmmy búIge, yearner! Choso, ˖ aftercare.

꒰ FT | Fem!Reader X Roommate!Choso K. ꒱

WC ➜ 11K ➜ ML | A/N : Inspired by radiohead

You were absolutely doomed.

Around six-forty p.m was the time you usually arrived at your shared apartment, well after you stopped by for fast food to stuff your belly full—deserved especially since your shift worked you down to the bone. Then you’d hang your keys on the rack, strip out of your uniform in the bathroom, shower, and finally masturbate in your bedroom.

But that was the problem...

Your vibrator was nowhere to be seen, you literally searched everywhere.

Crawling on the floor with tattered breath as if you’d just watched a horror movie, digging through your cluttered closet, ripping apart the designer shoebox without a care, biting your lip as you forcefully pulled out every last drawer in your dresser, you even looked underneath your bed—which you decided it needed some tidying up later—at least after you fixed the bigger issue.

Tears nearly threatened to escape the corners of your eye, in complete distress at this situation.

It wasn’t like you were trying to be dramatic, but each rude client was worth at least eight orgasms or even double that, hell you’d try and go all night if you didn’t have better things to do. 

Sighing before making your next move, it was best to hit your last resort—asking your roommate if he’s seen your vibrator.

Of course you’d feel a little embarrassed, what’s the worst that could happen though? At most he’d give you a puzzled look and say no, still you were desperate, so it was worth a shot.

What you didn’t know about Choso was that he’s a bit of a gooner.

Whenever your friends visited you and they saw him they’d either : 

A. Fangirl over your roommate gushing how hot quiet tall men are, and twirl their hair (apparently) flirting saying how they like their men “tatted up like a chipotle bag.”

  Or 

B. Secretly whisper about how weird he looks—off-put by his broody energy and unapproachable face.

It only made you confused, because this was someone you’d defend with your life over someone calling him weird, but you never noticed at night how he groaned as he slowly stroked his cock to women that could possibly be your doppelgänger on twitter.

Thrusting up into his fist with a dying need when he’d watch hentai and the women would make the ahegao face, because he could only dream of making you roll your eyes back like that while you loll your tongue out. 

Softly crying out your name as he rammed into his fleshlight like it was your pretty pussy, that he accidentally got flashed by once. 

Choso couldn’t help himself, dirty talking to it—pretending it was the real thing. He’d whimper “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you like how I pound you Y/n?” Hearing your mewls through the walls with his keen ear only made it worse.

Which is exactly why while you were gone he hid your vibrator so discreetly he even forgot where he put it, he only hoped and prayed you’d have no other choice, but to come to him.

Oddly enough Choso was slightly shocked his little plan worked so easily. 

When you gently knocked on his door, some rustling could be heard like he was trying to hide a few objects before opening it.

At last the door squeaked as it pried open, revealing his taller stature. 

His eyes were baggy like if he got any sleep he’d start breaking out in hives, his ears decorated in piercings as if it were art on a canvas—his short shirt had shown off his tatted sleeve that drove women crazy.

“Do you need something?” Choso asked, leaning against the door frame, tying the drawstrings on his Star Wars pajamas with a dull look, although mentally his head was crowded with tiny people cheering for him.

“Yeah,” you took a long deep breath, answering. 

Fiddling with the hem of your silky pink nightgown, you practically stalled for what you were about to ask.

“I was just wondering,” you muttered, trailing off.

Hiding your sweaty hands behind your back, you tried speaking again “actually don’t judge before I say it.” You dodged eye contact, making your eyes busy in his suddenly plain room that looked as if some collectables, or posters were missing.

“Did she notice anything? Quick, Quick! act normal Choso.” He panicked, his thoughts scolded him so loud he swore you might’ve heard them.

If he had two choices to let someone see his unholy room smothered in erotic figures, or those anime posters he claimed to watch for the ‘plot’—he’d let that someone be a god before you.

Dipping his hands in his pockets, he leaned closer into your space with warm inviting cocoa-tinted eyes, brushing his bangs out of his face.

“I won’t, promise.” He calmly reassured you.

“Have you possiblyyy,” you sing-songed, already regretting your life choices “perhaps seen my vibrator?” 

For a moment, Choso had an unreadable look displayed on his face, then he raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“No?” He had to be honest with himself, shame simmered in his stomach as a lie trudged out, he hated making you feel a little crazy over this, but this was his only chance to feel the touch of a woman.

“Why would I see that?” Choso folded his arms, his eyes raked across your figure. Gradually losing his composure due to your fresh scent—the honey body wash with hints of vanilla perfume was begging him to rip your clothes apart so badly that he had to repeat to himself “Hold it together Choso.”

“Ah. You’re right, I just thought,” you poked your lips out, adjusting your bonnet to distract you from the incoming bomb of embarrassment. 

Usually since you often misplaced your keys you’d often ask Choso if he’d seen them and he’d find them for you, which is why asking him this made at least a little sense.

“Nevermind.” You turned on your heel, preparing to use your fingers instead, (knowing you’d sob yourself to sleep after).

Your roommate didn’t allow you to leave just yet though, grabbing your wrist.“Wait, unless you, uh… wouldn’t mind me helping you.”

You paused like the entire world disintegrated, stepping back in shock. 

“Helping me?” You tilted your head, on the verge of mentioning what if it changes things–not wanting anything to be tricky after, but at this point you couldn’t care anymore, you just wanted at most—one orgasm tonight.

“Yeah, I mean that’s only if you want,” he began scratching his head, abruptly leaving the “cool” act behind “You could even imagine someone else if–”

But before Choso could drown himself in a pool of awkwardness, you yanked him by his hand dragging him into his room like you owned it.

“Say no more!” You declared like you were at a restaurant and your roommate was the only thing on the menu.

He gasped, appalled like he didn’t construct this entire plan. Your smaller figure somehow managing to rule his taller frame. 

He wasn’t expecting you to actually give in, so what now?

Choso never had a pretty woman this close, well, one he actually had an undeniable desire for.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he fidgeted with his fingers, nearly sweating for what was about to come.

“C’mon get closer, you don’t gotta be shy now!” You purred as you bat your luscious lashes, scooting towards him.

His hand was glued on top of yours, lifting for a second like he wanted to make a move—do anything, but he never thought he’d get this far. 

Your fingertips grazed his skin as you tilted his chin upward with a featherlight touch, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

Your breaths mingled for a moment, dancing in the closed space.

Tracing a path of soft, fluttering kisses along the rim of his sharp jawline, you savored the heat radiating from his skin and the way he subtly leaned into your touch. 

Your lips ghosted over the spot in front of his mouth, as if you were edging yourself with tasting him.

His heartbeat was comparable to an earthquake, booming loudly in anticipation. He felt the entire four years of living with you flash before his eyes, as if this was hard work that paid off, and he could finally die complete.

Then, without warning, your mouth claimed his—almost like you were marking your territory in spite of other women crushing over him.

It was dramatic the way your lips crashed against his repeatedly, suckling on his bottom lip like you were ravenous.

Your lips were melded into each other as if neither of you could get enough of this. His hand cupped your cheek like this was something bound to happen—practically screaming you were made to kiss only him.

He gently smiled into your plush lips remembering a few of the guys you used to bring over—now it was at last his turn after hearing how your pussy squelched through the walls.

Years of being on the side due to your toys or other men and he finally had a chance—he felt a rush of dedication to prove he was better, an urge to outdo everything that you scurried to during ovulation. 

With one swift motion Choso picked you up, both hands cradling your hips and sitting you on his lap, forcing a gasp out of your throat.

“Didn’t know you had it in you like that.” You blurted, swearing if this were a show a saxophone would theatrically play in the background.

It was a known fact Choso was strong, but picking you up so fast you barely even noticed had you feeling like a love spell was casted on your heart, suddenly hearing it roar in your chest.

“I… Uh–”  He started off, but his mind became scrambled, intoxicated with how close you were.

Your honey vanilla scent could’ve made him cum on the spot if he didn’t have enough self-control, except he reminded himself this was his only chance–he refused to fuck up.

It was too late though, because he immediately began to buck his hips up like a bull, causing your arms to wrap around his neck instinctively. 

He never knew what it was like for a woman to sit on his lap before, he couldn’t help himself–the way your cunt throbbed all over his bulge it only enticed him even more.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this is real…” swirled around in his mind in disbelief, a fantasy he told himself would never be real achieved to bloom into life. 

Choso’s angry veins were practically cursing you for how good your slick panties felt on top of him. 

His cock felt like stone, already frustrated from the thin fabric separating the two of you. 

“God, you’re so fucking hard,” you bursted into giggles, continuing to roll your hips “guess I’m not the only one… this pent up huh?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, eyes barely open as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece. 

His focus was as good as a drunk person. Every shift of your hips became the only thing that mattered.

He bit back noises like if he let them slip, he’d no longer impress you, but it was as if you knew he was holding back—switching to a faster rhythm, placing kisses on his neck then sucking harshly at the tender skin, sure to leave a dark purple bruise. 

He finally let go, ecstasy ascending in his bones, whimpering like a man obsessed—someone who’d merge souls with you if it were possible. 

Choso’s body chased yours as if were a reflex, his mind morphed into complete fuzziness it was like he was on autopilot, but there was only one thing—he didn’t know what to do with his hands, maybe stealing your vibrator was a little odd, but he still wanted to remain respectful.

His hands moved lower down your back, fingers drawing circles on your nightgown, but halted like he wanted to go further and couldn’t.

“You wanna touch me?” You whispered, lips brushing his pink tinted ears, sending shivers throughout his body “It’s okay, go ahead.”

“You sure?” He brought his face from your shoulder for a moment, pressing his forehead against yours, the tips of your nose basically engaged to each other.

You nodded, reaching for his hands, dragging them down slowly to your ass. He quickly grabbed a huge handful, like it would escape from him.

“Fuck, you’re so soft.” 

He groaned, feeling a surge of something primal brewing throughout him, his fingertips screwed harder into the supple fat of your ass damn near branding you.

You were driving him wild without even doing much but looking pretty while grinding on him.

The weight of you in his lap was insane—his mind shuffled with “please let this be more than once, I’ll do anything to have her again.” 

Choso brutally bit the inside of his cheek, making sure this wasn’t a dream, if he woke up any minute he’d definitely take his anger out on one of his poor body pillows.

The fact that you came to him, agreeing with his idea to help you even if you could’ve just used your fingers, or just asked him to help you search for it meant everything to him—he never felt this needed in his life. 

He was breathless at the touch starved friction, your moans swimming in his ear, how you gently clawed at his back, your captivating scent, was all too much for him.

“Feels so good.” Became the only thing he could spew out, veins bolting as he gripped you tighter, bringing you closer as his clothed cock rubbed on your pulsing clit.

You sighed entirely dazed, the air around you two growing thick and humid. You had your arms wrapped around his marked neck like you wanted to trap him in a web to keep him there forever.

Unfortunately, nobody’s touched you in what felt like decades; to some abstinence for only two years sounded weak, just about anyone could go without dick for two years right?

Absolutely not, at least for you, these past years were hell, it was so horrible you considered calling your ex-situationship to satisfy your needs.

Which was why you rutted into his pelvis like an animal in heat, your body acted as if it were irritated he didn’t ask to help you sooner.

Your panties became a slip n’ slide, every single one of his needy whimpers sprinting straight to your puffy clit—Choso’s wet kisses relishing in your neck had your nipples shamefully pebbling in your nightgown.

Somehow your hips even picked up speed on its own rocking into his tented pajama pants, you wouldn’t be surprised anymore at other decisions it could make. 

There was no way you were this turned on by a little bit of humping, right? You mentally reprimanded yourself.

It was almost like you were a virgin again with no sense around a man, pure lust cascading your body.

Your breath was disappearing from you like a ghost, unable to handle your roommate’s wispy moans striking your ear, sounding as if he was on the verge of coming–all you could feel was the splotch of pre-cum leaking from the middle of his pants.

Your fingers ditched his neck to tangle into his raven tufts hoping it’d help stabilize yourself from the inescapable coil building in your tummy.

Not even the blasting fan nearby could cool the large sums of sweat off your bodies—convinced you were soul tied at this rate by how in sync you moved together.

Every hungry grind lined up perfectly with his bulge that continuously attacked your bundle of nerves sticking to the seam of your panties.

He held you so close you could feel his abs flexing as he gripped you tighter, the possessive touch causing you to clench around utterly nothing.

“Choso,” your mouth let out a choked sob, nails indenting itself into his shirt “Shit, I’m… close…” you gasped desperately in between breaths.

Your thighs began to shudder around his waist, drunk off the sheer intensity of him thrusting up into you.

Arrays worth of fireworks launched in your head, dizzy on the fact that you’d possibly get your first orgasm of the night after a long shift.

“Yeah? Haah, mmggffh me too…” He whimpered, placing a kiss on top of your head, but unfortunately he had a sudden change of plans—slowing down his movements while shifting his body just to lay you on the bed facing him against the plethora of fluffy pillows.

“Wait, nooo why’d you stop?” 

You whined, heart humming like a drum—your pussy clamping around nothing, begging for anything to get relief.

“Because if I kept going I was gonna cum in my pants like some filthy loser.” Choso rasped, wetting his lips—dark brown eyes secured on your figure as if you stepped out of his favorite doujinshi.

You playfully smirked as you gave a pointed look to the sticky grey patch on his pajama pants. It might’ve only been pre-cum, though replaying how breathless he sounded, he definitely sounded like the filthy loser in question.

Clearing his throat, he pushed up the silk material of your nightgown with no rush behind his actions.

He delicately spread your legs apart, sweeping dainty kisses from your slick-covered thighs to your stomach before unhurriedly pulling away your sticky panties.

Once they were all the way off he gave them a huge whiff like he wanted the scent of your cunt after an eight-hour shift to burn deep into his nostrils. 

He exhaled as if it were a sweet aroma of baked cookies, and bunched it up into a ball flinging it somewhere in his room like he was signaling you weren’t getting that back, causing your eyes to widen.

“I wanna savor this—savor you…as long as I can.”

His voice was hoarse as he slipped a finger inside your velvet walls, careful and deep like he needed to feel every inch.

But there was one dire issue, he thought he knew what he was doing from watching—an almost concerning amount of porn, yet it unfortunately made him move his finger only in and out with no sense of set pace or rhythm.

You bit your lip hesitant, leaning up on your elbows as your eyes bored into his “Wait, you’re not doin’ it right.” It wasn’t to be mean, but if he wanted to help out, you weren’t going to take this back and forth like he was trying to hit a non-existent red-button.

He paused his finger for a moment.

“Does that not feel good?” Choso questioned, furrowing his brows in confusion. Thinking wrongfully he was prepared enough for this, gooning to all those videos on twitter or other websites didn’t seem to do him any good afterall.

You shook your head mumbling a near inaudible “Mm-mm.”

“Guide me on what to do then, angel.”  

He pleaded, his tone enveloped with curiosity, eager to be corrected—yet felt you flutter around his finger.

“Does she like being called angel?” Those words scampered around his mind, as he squinted his eyes, he made a quick mental note on what you liked while waiting for you to explain any directions you were willing to spill. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, face burning at explaining what your body needed—either way you craved an orgasm, so you decided to suck up the slight tension. 

“Here,” you whispered, grabbing his wrist and helping him move at a tortoise-like pace. “You’ve gotta press up a little.”

His mouth fell open slightly as he watched you guide him, if it were possible to get a tattoo of a memory he’d want to ink your vulnerable state in his brain next.

“Press up a little?” He asked, voice tentative like he was trying to figure out his way through a maze.

“Okay um… try curling your finger—like, hook it up.” You described curling your fingers in front of him to give him a picture, assuming he could be more of a visual learner.

He did exactly what you told him, marking your directions in his brain like a fervent student, adjusting his hand to press against a fiercely sensitive spot hiding inside you.

“Keep moving slow okay?” You instructed, chest rising and falling as you relaxed into his touch.

Choso’s mind began to flash back to sensual porn he watched whenever he got tired of overly rough videos, abruptly realizing that’s what made him cum quickly—maybe it’d be the same for you if he properly mimicked the same movements.

Beads of sweat trickled down his temple, as he pursed his lips in concentration, devoted to making you fall apart on his hand first. 

Slithering his finger in your clingy walls, he continued to curl up in a repeated motion, stroking your g-spot with the same precise care he gave the finest brushes in his art collection, forcing your back to beautifully arch, entirely surrendering yourself to his long digit.

Choso moaned softly, at how demanding your pussy became–despite him only having one finger engulfed in you, it grasped him like it’d fire him from his job if he stopped at any moment.

He smiled with adoration, mind filled to the brim with colorful confetti, celebrating like this was his biggest accomplishment in life, besides one of his paintings he sold–he got the exact girl he was longing for writhing underneath him, depending on him for pleasure.

“Like that?” he questioned, following your reactions like a hawk. 

“Aah, yes! Like that Cho.” You mewled, as you toyed with your hardened nipples through your nightgown, impatiently peeling one of your tits from out of the top. 

His pace stuttered for a moment, distracted by the sight of your exposed breast and how lazily you teased yourself. He swallowed hard, correcting his rhythm with a low whimper.

Fuck, why are you like this? 

You weren’t even trying to be hot, all you did was flick your nipple between your fingers and for some reason, it was enough for him to bang his hips into the mattress aiming to satisfy the painful throbbing ache in his pants.

Choso rubbed your thigh like he needed it to ground himself, he gave it a gentle squeeze, having a strong thirst to live in your soft flesh.

He maintained massaging your spot, proud your elbows finally became weak—no longer able to support you due to how much bliss you were in.

“You okay, angel?” Genuine concern cloaked his tone, refusing to overwhelm you, but he somehow didn’t realize that’s exactly what made you lose your mind, being overwhelmed.

“‘M fine... just—” your voice shattered like glass, hardly able to finish your train of thought, as your walls fluttered tight around him, “add another finger, please.”

You yearned for that extra push like a woman who hopelessly waited on love letters from her man at work, and at that moment it registered to you that this began to feel a little more intimate than just roommates. 

You wanted to push away his wrist—stop him—do anything, but that coil that was stirring in your tummy had you under deep control, it’d be like trying to break free from a cage made of steel.

“Is that better?” 

“Mhmm… f–feels so good. You’re doing so well, Cho—so good f’me.”

Oh, he couldn’t wait to free his cock, at this point you were torturing him—not that he minded. 

The way your back arched, breasts high and nipples pleading for more. Mouth slightly parted with half-lidded eyes made him want to sketch you like this—ruined under his touch.

“God, you’re so wet,” he panted, surprised at the obscene squelch sounds your body gave him. “you look so pretty, trembling like that for me.”

“She must really like praise, huh?”  His thoughts clouded his mind, as he watched a waterfall worth of slick that coated his palm.

Choso gave a smug half-smile, realizing he could unravel you with nothing but his words. Any doubts about sounding awkward? Gone—submerged under the sound of your moans.

Your mind fell numb, grinding your hips down on his digits, crying out his name like a broken record.

“Oh my god Choso.” You squealed—eyes slamming shut, as you grabbed at his lean tatted arm, his muscles flexing at your unexpected touch.

“Choso, choso, choso, I’m close, don’t stop.” You begged, playing a memory that dragged you back to when other men would change their pace or rhythm as soon as you were on the tip of coming.

“Faster Cho, you’re doing such a good job.” You encouraged as your nails scraped his arm, tits jiggling while your hips stuttered against him like he was your only source of euphoria, completely forgetting about your ‘lost’ vibrator.

He listened to you attuned to your needs, then thumbed at your fat greedy mound.

It was too much, feeling overstimulated—his wide thumb circling on your clit as he thrusted his fingers swiftly in a come hither motion, provoking drool to slip past the corners of your lips.

“Hah, Choso—gonna cum, I’m coming!”  Your thighs quivered as you threw your forearm across your face, pussy spasming around him like you were trying to reel him in forever.

Faint cries echoed throughout his room as a gush ripped from your cunt, raining over his already doused palm.

Loads of waves poured over him, claiming his palm and wrist, so bad he became sure he’d need an umbrella.

Your body acted like you haven’t orgasmed in centuries, spilling out way too much as if it’d never get a chance to feel another man again.

Finally, he pulled away his fingers noticing the skin was now wet and wrinkly, still he tapped his digits against his lips like he was debating whether or not he wanted to taste your arousal.

Then he dipped them in his mouth, suckling at your wet essence that coated him–his tongue glided over your slick while he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, as if that’d manage to disrupt his judgement.

Choso’s brows creased like his brain was scanning the flavor on his taste buds and relaying the information to form a final opinion.

He smacked his lips for a second “Hmm, a bit salty, yet sweet, maybe like a chocolate covered pretzel?? I’d say this is a ten out of ten.” Choso announced, giggling as if he were a well-known food critic, but in tasting cum.

“A chocolate covered pretzel?!” You snorted, boisterous, yet fairly bewildered at the bold comparison.

He joined you in laughter, shrugging, except His giggles died down as his eyes met yours again—still entranced from everything.

“You okay?” he asked, checking on you once more, rejecting anything less than an astonishing experience for you. His hand rose up to caress your side, touching you at any chance he had.

“Of course I am,” you nodded, doe eyes swaddling him, but masked behind lust, you reached up towards him, tugging him feebly by his shirt. 

“C’mere… I want you inside me, pleaseee.” 

The ache in his pants pulsed hard enough to make him wince. He exhaled slowly, nudging closer, slotting his hips between your legs.

Choso blinked, his breath catching. “Y-Yeah? You sure?”

His fingers flexed against your thigh. You were still twitching, your cunt fluttering around nothing as you pawed at his pajama pants.

“I need it, Choso—need you now.”

That was all it took, he leaned in, peppering kisses all over your face like a man who made love to his woman before he went to war. “Fuck, you’re unreal.”

Choso scrambled to tug down his pants, whimpering at the fact that he could finally take care of his boner.

His cock sprang free like it was ready to ravage your pussy, causing your eyes to pop as a gasp flew out of your throat. 

The tip was on par with an abnormal sized mushroom, maybe even lab made—flushed coral pink and bitterly leaking, envious it didn’t get any attention yet.

But that wasn’t even the best part, the length looked around seven inches paired with a five inch girth, this was the kind of dick that’d steer you away from any ex or toy for life, you made a wild guess you’d most likely get attached after this as if your heart would stop without him.

“Oh my god?” You covered your mouth, appalled. The other men you’d been with had three or four inches, which occasionally made you yawn during sex.

You never would’ve guessed your roommate who’s quiet—makes small talk with you was secretly packing underneath his typically baggy clothes.

“Is it bad looking?” Choso quizzed, face hued a rose pink—worried he wouldn’t succeed your expectations. “I could still try to please you if—“

“No, it’s so fucking big” you drooled, ogling at him “put it inside me now!” You ordered, as you rubbed your clit in small circles.

He was only left speechless, cock twitching profoundly at your approval until a few words came to mind, “anything you want princess.”

Choso turned powerless to his own actions, hand moving to give himself a few pumps before slapping his fat tip on your clit, provoking you to jolt.

He let out a breathless chuckle like he was going insane. “I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

“You have?”

He responded with a nod as his tip stroked your entrance, gathering some slick to act as lube before lining himself up, then he steadily glided himself in—making your breath hitch.

Your hands fisted the sheets, to comfort yourself with the burning stretch. You were able to feel every single throbbing vein, ridge, and you’d imagine even his beauty marks that decorated his length too.

His eyes searched your face for any discomfort while he continued pushing himself inside you, his girth splitting you open into two.

“Mmm, you want me to stop half way?” He asked as he massaged your hip.

You immediately shook your head “No, all the way in.” 

Even through the slight sting you needed everything Choso could give, except that costed your breath to increase, getting heavier, not realizing how much you had to accommodate.

Your walls panicked, feeling like it instantly had to find a way to mold itself properly to his size to ensure you’d only feel a compelling sense of pleasure.

He continued to drag himself all the way in, just like you asked until your pelvis pecked at the hair freckled at the base.

“W—want me to move, or do you need a minute?” Choso questioned, throwing his head back at your tight, warm, wet cave encasing him—knowing it’d be difficult to return to his fleshlight after this, it’d be like trying to sober up after an addiction.

“You can move.” You stated, making an attempt at a neutral tone, but it came off more of a plea.

You never thought missionary could hit like this, usually it bored you, leaving other men to watch a blank expression on your face as they had their way with you, but with Choso, your body sucked him in like a black hole completely immersed in his length.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight, angel.” He groaned as he unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off like it’d cool off his body.

Then at last his hips rocked forward, slow but deep, like he wanted to carve his name into your guts.

“Y’gonna ruin me,” he breathed, and you swore for a moment question marks were exploding on top of your head confused like he wasn’t the one ruining you.

Vibrators always helped with stimulation but they never prepared you for the sheer stretch and fullness of cock—especially since Choso’s thick, it felt like a soda can was trying to jam inside your cushion walls.

He pulled back just enough to harshly launch back in on purpose—remembering how much you loved being overwhelmed.

You sobbed his name in like a prayer hoping to be answered any minute, turning your head side to side into the silk sheets.

It almost turned mortifying how sensitive your sopping cunt was, those two years promptly catching up to you, reminding you how badly you wished for dick to break the streak.

You were basically in heat, squeezing around him, placing your hand on his abs like it’d console you from his deep thrusts.

“S–shit, I didn’t know anyone could make me feel like this.” You mumbled beyond perplexed an inexperienced man already had you seeing stars. 

You kept trying to tell yourself on loop that this is just sex, something casual until you marched yourself to Spencer’s to buy another soulless piece of silicone to mourn the real thing, but your lash line started to swell with tears, cherishing that his eyes were glued to your face digging for any reaction you spared him.

And telling yourself this is just a small one-time thing began to feel suffocating, specifically since he delicately held your hips–too shy to leave bruises, rolling into you like you were an idol meant to be worshipped.

Your heart erupted with heat each time he softly cursed your name–leaning in to kiss your neck, beginning to realize your friends possibly weren’t exaggerating when they expressed how mind-blowing sex is, every stroke raised your standards for the next man, well, if you weren’t too attached afterwards.

Choso shot a smile flourishing with passion, knowing you felt ecstasy simply because of him–it was just like he dreamed of when he masturbated if not better.  

He used one hand to thumb at your clit, circling it with careful, messy swipes just to hear those moans, the ones gentle as clouds escaping your lips—with his other hand, he reached for yours, fingers lacing together and pressing them into the pillow beside your head like he wanted sculpt how infatuated he was with you.

His hips rocked forward in slow, deliberate thrusts, but each time he bottomed out, he ground—like he was trying to argue with your body to prove entirely nothing could be better than this.

He wanted to etch himself into your walls, dedicated to making this memorable. 

Every steady drag of his cock left behind a milky trail of your thick cream on his shaft that clung to him like a crazy jealous ex who wouldn’t let go.

You felt him everywhere.

Not just stretching your pussy, but filling your tummy, pressing against something deeper—maybe your womb, probably your soul.

You clamped around him uncontrollably tight—not even sure if your body wanted more, to cry, or scream that you couldn’t take it.

But then you thought about those rude-ass clients from earlier.

There was no way in hell you were tapping out.

His fat tip kept thumping your sweet spots with surgeon-like precision, making your toes curl and your hands try to weakly reach for the nightstand. 

It still wasn’t enough. You wanted to be wrecked—spoiled—reduced to nothing but a whore underneath him.

So, you did what any bratty woman would do, what better way to ask than tease your way into this?

“You… don’t gotta… move so slow anymore Choso,” you faked a yawn, or tried to in between breaths “maybe I should go look for my vibrator—see if that gets the job done instead.”

His pace faltered—just for a moment like something short-circuited. Then his eyes shifted, and you could see it click, something devious lighting up behind them.

“Yeah?” 

His voice dropped an octave—baritone, yet rich as satin, being enough to make your skin prickle with goosebumps, recognizing there was something mischievous hiding underneath the surface.

He withdrew his shaft, but didn’t pull all the way out, just until the head of his cock sat tauntingly in your slick entrance, like it was alerting you what you were in for, messing with a man who has had an excessive fixation on you for four years.

You could feel your pussy throb like your slutty hole had its own heartbeat, attempting to grab him back in as if it were irritated you were teasing the best dick of your life.

His soft palm cupped your breast, watching how your hard nipple jostled at his fingertips.

With a slow roll of his thumb, he circled your bud—softly pinching it, studying the way your back twitched off the mattress.

A whimper flew from your parted lips, fingers tangled in the sheets at how sacred his hands kneaded you, a sheepish expression plastered across your face at how responsive you were, it was like every molecule in your body finally felt seen.

And although Choso looked like someone who sat on Discord all day, sketching anime girls in questionable poses for “anatomy study,” debating mischaracterized characters on Reddit threads at 2 a.m.—you knew you were about to be ruined.

“If that’s what you want…” He sucked in a shaky breath through his nose, jaw tight so tight a vein could burst—like he was satisfied he could be rougher, letting his pervy energy leak through. “I’ll give you anything.” 

You tried to keep up the bored act, a deadpan expression sprawling out over your face, considering whether or not rolling your eyes or huffing out a fake sigh was too far.

Distracting yourself by the windy spring air blowing the curtains—you pondered for a moment, eyes deciding to entertain themselves inspecting the rest of his room, darting to the walls decorated with anime posters that were most likely judging your sinful actions.

But then—he grabbed both of your legs, hoisting and folding them over his shoulders in one sharp motion, so quick that the succulent fat of your thighs angrily jiggled at the sudden movement.

His eyes narrowed in focus, shaking his head to move his raven bangs that stuck like glue to his forehead, but you instantly broke him out of deep concentration as broken moans rumbled from your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your voice strained, as a string of curses rushed out of your mouth, his mushroom tip pushing farther.

You weren’t ready for how deep this angle let him reach—having your knees nudge your collarbones or the intense stretch.

Mentally, little disorganized files in your brain broke open, scattering to figure out where he learned his technique from, especially since not too long ago you were guiding him on how to finger you, could it be porn, or maybe advice from quora?

You couldn’t even be bothered to solve that grueling mystery now though, because you swore you saw a faint trace of a smirk gracing Choso’s features.

Not the playful one you usually gave him to tease, just to rile him up for pure amusement. 

It screamed more like a yellow warning sign, a promise as if to tell you “be careful for what you wish for.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Your voice cracked between shallow breaths, pleading for mercy, all while secretly hoping he’d ignore them—wrecking you until you were walking funny for the next two weeks.

But in typical Choso fashion, not a single word dared to exit his mouth.

You simply braced for impact, throwing your forearm back over your face like you were a damsel in distress.

Then he slammed into you–all the way, at once–his full length bullying any sensitive spot imaginable, burying himself to the hilt—his short nails digging tiny crescent moons into the plush of your thighs.

Your mind shimmered in elation—the pleasure comparable to a warm hug, you nearly wondered if you should’ve mumbled out a thank you for how dreamy everything felt.

Each slam of his thick cock felt as if it were exasperated, reclaiming his silence for four years of crushing on you–like he was begging to know how you could be so oblivious this whole time.

The poor wooden headboard croaked at the pressure, banging against the wall louder than siren, someone would assume it was trying to find an escape–refusing to be the spot you two fucked like animals on top of.

Those years of moaning into your pillow with your vibrator on max setting—worthless. It was like your pussy forgot what real pleasure was supposed to feel like.

Ramming into you his balls slapped the curve of your pussy, hard enough to make your back arch and body shudder like he was commanding you to, except without any words needed. 

The stretch of him felt like if your body took another cock it’d deny access immediately, you wouldn’t mind staying this way though, even if it was too much for you to handle, you’d replay this moment while lucid dreaming, doing anything to be folded in half like this again.

“S’full, m’ so fuckin' full Choso.” You babbled, tears wobbling at the edge of your lash line, creeping down your face like it didn’t want to be noticed.

“Mhm, I know princess.” He cooed, continuing to drive into you as he carefully watched your tummy bulge dance with every thrust “That’s all me huh?” He mentioned completely struck at how big he was as if he didn’t consistently measure himself.

Once one large hand departed to press on your belly, your jaw went slack from the immense pressure, his dick kept critically knocking into that precious a-spot, like he was perfectly doing calculations in his brain which angles or thrusts would make you sob.

Your half-lidded eyes were blurry, rolling back until you saw white.

Your vision was as good as television static, the black and white specs twinkling—thoughts fading into a puddle of mush as your tongue lolled out, proving he fucked you dumb.

Drool slipped past your lips, lashes flickering like you were fragile—seconds from breaking apart.

That's when he snapped—mind brittle in arousal, eyes darkening at how pornographic you looked, exactly how he’s been daydreaming when he masturbated to the thought of you, hungry and desperate for you to make a slutty ahegao face.

“Shit,” a long drawn out groan crawled out his plump lips, as his pace stammered for a moment, absorbed in your lack to control your features contorting by bliss.

One pale hand still rested on your leg, while the other grabbed your jaw holding you in place effortlessly, leaning so close his breath could fog your face if it were glass just to spit a massive glob making sure it aimed right for your tongue.

By this point you were hazy—maybe half-gone swallowing without hesitation, lips closing as his spit swam down your throat keeping a piece of him inside your body.

You gave a droopy smile, almost nothing could break you out of your sexual high besides Choso quickly apologizing for the sudden act.

“Shit, wait, I didn’t mean—” he started to explain himself, voice drizzled with guilt, yet it was hard to focus with him consistently pounding so deep you wouldn’t be exaggerating if you said you felt his dick in your chest.

“Was it too much?” He panted, worried he may have grossed you out.

Not knowing that you’ve been craving someone who goes beyond vanilla sex this entire time.

“No, do it again.” You begged, scratching at his abs with no force behind it.

His breath hitched, eyes nearly bursting out of the socket “You’re gonna be the death of me Y/n.” 

Tilting your jaw once more, he gathered every last drop of saliva in his mouth to spit another glob on top of your needy tongue.

His fingertips pushed up at your chin, signaling you to swallow everything he gave you—making him proud that another piece of him was going to disappear down into your tummy.

You held onto it for a minute before swallowing though, savoring the flavor of his obsession before completely letting it leave—moaning once you felt well-fed by your roommate.

“There you go, s’good for me.” His pupils twitched at how vulnerable you were with him, feeling a sense of connection to every noise you made, every eye roll, how you trusted him enough to let him do whatever he wanted with you.

And your heart shouldn’t have combusted like it did at his words, knowing this should only be a one time thing before things get serious, but your thoughts were frolicking in circles at the idea of being married to Choso, unable to care about the relationship stage first.

Your eyes—finally able to look properly couldn’t even stare into his, dodging his every glance.

You couldn’t tell whether you hated how observant he was or not because then—he grasped your jawline like it was an insult to avoid his gaze.

“Look at me angel, want you to see how good m’ fucking you.”

The only thought you could conjure up was “Is he trying to make me fall for him?” It seemed like everything he did made both heartbeats skip.

His length hammered into your sensitive core as you looked up to him with loving doe eyes, your fingers holding onto the ones hooked on your jaw keeping him in place, like if he let go you'd miserably whine if he stopped.

“Mmngh, look at that…” Choso groaned, intentionally thrusting slower to let you revel in how much his girth ripped you to shreds, while he carefully analyzed the outline of his cock he ingrained into your belly—still shocked, not realizing how huge it was.

You could only respond by squeezing him like you were trying to milk him dry of four years worth of being pent up, dazed, you struggled to give him eye contact, until he instantly made them broaden—completely stunned.

While one hand stayed pressed on your stomach, one of his hands latched to your ankle, planting a tender kiss on it without breaking his fast paced rhythm, he dragged your pointed foot up—lips making love to your heel, the soft skin of your arch, and each one of your toes coated in cheetah print polish.

He wasn’t sure why, but the lavish design only drew him in even more like if he kept paying your feet any more attention he’d stay hard for another round.

“Mmmph s’cute,” he slurred, wet muscle grazing the pads of each toe like it was a heavenly meal prepared and served only for him to pamper himself with.

At first it tickled like your nerves were panicking—trying to process being stimulated there, but then once the strange tingly feeling finally substituted for pleasure your mewls grew louder as he added suction like he was striving to extract your soul through your foot.

He slurped, releasing each toe with a wet pop before taking in the next, unapologetic about how down bad his demeanor drifted off.

Your brain fried itself like it urgently tried to pinpoint why it felt so amazing, yet peculiar at the same time.

Words like “No, no, no, this is so fucking weird, but I don’t want him to stop????” Tripled in your head, chasing after an answer you couldn’t find.

The sensation of his mouth on one end and his cock punching deep into your guts felt too much to handle, although you practically asked for it.

You floated in a pool of shame, arrows pointing at how pitiful and submissive you were for allowing this to happen.

Usually you judged others for being into something like this, scrunching up your face in disgust whenever someone mentioned how they enjoyed having their feet adored, slowly you were beginning to realize this whole time it was all about having the right person do it for you.

With Choso, he did it with so much care, ideas of it being disturbing declined crossing your mind, he made it certain he wanted to devote himself to testing everything that possibly turned you on.

Even the parts that others would deem as too filthy, he just saw it as another part of you to explore.

As he increased suction, slightly hollowing his cheeks, his wet muscle swerved around the dips and ridges of your skin.

Sex wasn’t supposed to be this intense, you never had to manually breathe through taking cock, yet here you were mentally telling yourself to inhale and exhale as you massaged at your bundle of nerves as if that’d somehow calm you down, but that coil started to build again, like you were on the tip of letting go any moment.

“C’mon, I know you’re close,” he murmured, voice muffled as your toes were still in his mouth causing your pussy to spasm around his length—vibrations driving you crazy.

Recognizing that familiar spasm, this time around his dick—he briskly thrusted so deep his tip nearly smooched your womb.

THWAP THWAP THWAP!

The sound of skin colliding with each other filled the room, echoing loud enough to be heard five doors down your shared apartment. 

“Choso, fuck, oh my god...” you let choked sobs roam free as the weak coil rang, like it had to alert you were going to cum, the most fierce orgasm you were about to have in your life, not even your wand vibrator on max settings or your favorite rhythm could compare.

You would’ve never guessed that having every inch of your body worshipped including down to your soles of your feet would make you feel like a swarm of butterflies fought in your stomach.

Slowly you gave up mentally coaching yourself how to breathe—every exhale becoming ragged like someone was chasing you, except that someone happened to be your orgasm. 

Your legs trembled on top of his broad shoulders, body jerking like a woman possessed, but in pure euphoria.

Everything around you fizzled out into nothingness, unable to form a single thought, and maybe your mind was doing you a favor, letting you fully appreciate this moment with every fiber in your soul.

“Shit, c—can’t move…” His voice wavered along a high-pitch needy groan, the muscles in his thighs shuddering like his own body attempted to run from the orgasm he was seconds from collapsing under.

Your pussy squeezed him like a tight glove, designed for him flawlessly, it felt like watching another girl on twitter would be degrading to you by how snug you were.

The one thing your tight hole tolerated right now was him grinding so deep you'd need a map to find his mushroom tip inside your silk walls.

“Baby, I—I’m g’nna cum, hold me, please...” you pleaded, tears anchoring at the edge of your eyes as you weakly reached up for him with a pout forming on your face.

“Baby?” His eyes softened—like hearing you call him that unlocked something buried in the depths of his soul as if a cupid’s arrow somehow managed to shoot him in the dead of spring.

Immediately letting your foot go, you didn’t have to tell Choso twice, he leaned over still balls deep inside you–using one hand to cradle your head like you were all his, while the other snaked itself underneath your back pulling you slightly towards him.

“Let go for me, cum all over my cock.” He whispered into your ear, helping you through your orgasm.

And although your moans were raw—guttural, his mind managed to mistake it for angelic cries, so beautiful it sounded like a melody on the harp serenading him. 

Your legs wrapped around him, your nails clawed at his back, the deep red scratch marks contrasting with his pale skin.

Gasping at first he felt dizzy, drunk off of the pain you saturated him in, his tip kept nudging your a-spot until you spasmed around him in rapid motions, soon coating him with a thick cream that nuzzled right at the base of his length, dribbling even his hair in your arousal.

Your noises went silent, stuck in an o shape as he continued to pound into you, abs flexing as he chased his own high.

His breath became frayed like a rope, a flood of tears streaming down his cheeks, landing onto your face as you cupped his chin, somehow making him fall harder than before, convinced his heart was stabbing you by how fast it was racing.

“F—fuck, fuckfuckfuck, love you so m—much, loved you this whole time.” He admitted, roughly biting your neck like that would keep him stable.

Your greedy cunt fluttered at his sudden confession, gasping like he revealed a dirty secret not even an interrogator could get him to blurt out. 

“He loves me..?!” Your thoughts repeated like those words were signed into your memory forever, wondering if you really had been oblivious for eons.

Your lips pursed like you wanted to reply back, but something was yanking you away, so many questions were bouncing through your head, like how long has it been since he realized his feelings? Or did you even deserve to be surrounded in this much attention? Especially for the sake of stress relief after work.

Drowning out your thoughts his fingernails dug so far into the flesh of your hips, it’d be bruised for weeks—Choso planted kisses over face in a scattered motion, as his hips snapped up into your pelvis in messy uneven thrusts, knocking the wind out of you.

“Where do you want me?” He begged to know, satisfied with any answer you gave him.

“O-on top of my tummy.” You croaked out with a giggle, freeing him from the cage of your wrapped legs, you knew exactly what you were going to do once he came.

Following your command he instantly fumbled his way out of you, his cock twitching with shaky hands as he jerked himself whimpering loud enough to deafen your ears. 

Pushing up the material of your nightgown that tried running down due to his movements, his hips jolted forward until thick white ropes spilled on top of your stomach, finally draining himself—years of being pent up.

It wouldn’t stop leaking out—his slit gushing out cum like paint from a cracked can. You swore it was enough cum to last a decade, warm like an oven, sending chills down your spine, forgetting how good someone’s arousal could feel against your skin.

The room was filled with panting as if two people were in a race, but in who would cum first—trying to catch your breath for a moment you bit the inside of your cheek as your fingers traced the thick seed he left to melt on you.

Smearing it all over yourself first playing in it like it was made to relax in when you were stressed—bringing it up to your lips to taste it, your mouth closed around your digits like it was your last meal before blacking out.

“So, how does it taste?” He asked, interrupting your little test awkwardly, scratching his pink tinted neck.

His gaze intensely flowed into you, hoping your response wouldn’t embarrass him—but thankfully in advance he had been preparing himself in case he ever got the slim chance to fuck you.

His diet consisting of fruit bowls bigger than his head and jugs those of water coming in handy—rarely munching on junk food, avoiding fucking up his flavor as much as possible.

You smacked your lips, purposefully mimicking him tasting you from earlier “It’s surprisingly good.”

“Surprisingly?” He chuckled, not sure whether or not to take it as a compliment.

“I expected it to be super salty, I’m sorry.” You half joked, leaning up on your elbows with whatever strength you had left.

“Ouch…?” He said with the face of a kicked puppy, eyes droopy at your assumption.

Staring at the mess he made, he was almost hesitant to ask, wishing he could pause time and be stuck in this moment forever.

“W-wanna get cleaned up or… uh?”

You nodded, yet your eyebrows raised in disbelief at how he stuttered like he didn’t just rummage through your guts.

“Carry me!” You demanded like a soldier defeated in battle.

He gave a lazy smile mumbling “yes ma’am.”

Lifting you off the mattress with shaky arms, Choso held you like you were made of glass—though the sticky mess between you begged to differ. His load clung to your skin and smeared across his stomach with every step, but he didn’t complain. Just buried his nose in the crown of your head as he carried you to the bathroom in silence.

Your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, like if you let go, your body might actually fracture into tiny pieces.

The tiles were freezing when your toes hit the floor, and you clung to his inked forearm for balance. He turned the silver lever slowly, steam hissing out with the first spray of warm water. 

Neither of you said much as he took off your bonnet, then slid back the straps of your short nightgown down your shoulders, watching it drop on the floor.

Choso guided you under the water, letting the heat soak through your skin like a balm.

Leaning against the wall for support, your legs were as wobbly as an antique table, already dreading the thought of clocking in at your job tomorrow.

The first splash attacked your hips and you winced, throwing your head into the wall, breathing in the steam like that would somehow help.

Choso turned so fast he nearly broke the spinal cord in his neck.

“Did I hurt you?” His tone cracked with the ghost of guilt, running his hands through his glossy damp hair.

He knew he was a little rougher towards the end, but he felt like a monster knowing you were in pain because of him—praying he didn’t go overboard.

You looked down at your figure and saw the faint bruises forming along your sides where his fingers had dug in brutally.

“No,” you murmured so quietly not even a wolf could hear, while picking up the shower head letting the water push the seed off of your belly. “I’d let you do it again anyway.” 

His Adam's apple bobbed like your words were a shot of honey mixed with poison.

But his expression crumpled like a paper bag for a second. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel proud or ashamed.

The thought of you allowing him the possible chance of being able to make love again infiltrated his brain, his mind began to wander if you two would eventually buy a place with one bedroom—no longer needing separate rooms, maybe he’d never need pillows again to keep himself warm and not feel a little empty at night.

His fingers grazed your stomach like he was touching something divine, a blush staining his pale cheeks at the amount of cum he drizzled on you.

Instinctively you snatched yourself slightly to the side, flinching like his touch was foreign–the love radiating off of his heart attempting to transfer itself to yours haunted you.

Retreating his hand, he furrowed his brows in confusion, completely lost at the sudden act, you wouldn’t be hallucinating if you said you saw question marks rise above his head.

“I'm still a bit sensitive from everything, sorry.” You blurted, dodging eye contact, facing forward to the wall in front of you–studying the silver rack filled with bath bombs, wash cloths, and soaps. 

He blinked, stunned. Something in him screamed to reach again, but he stood still—fighting the fear that if he touched you again, you might disappear completely.

He bashfully smiled in relief, whisking up a little plan to help your trouble, his fingers reached for the body wash on the rack before speaking.

“Let me at least take care of you,” he mumbled, lathering a few pumps into his palms, rubbing his hands together to let it bubble first.

Then he massaged it gently onto your skin like he was a professional that worked at a spa. It was hard not to feel soothed under every press of his digits, letting out chaste moans as his touch got slower and intentional—less about cleaning up, more so about making you feel cared for afterwards.

Your eyes gradually sealed shut, as he rested his chin on top of your head inhaling your saccharine fragrance.

“Your hair smells so nice, wish I could live in your scent.” He whispered, voice raspy, as he kneaded your sore hips like dough.

You tried to force away a grin at his praise, biting your lip, refusing yourself to easily fall for someone again. 

The brick barrier you built to protect your soul was too strong to be broken, by something temporary right?

Beneath the tranquil stream. Water cascaded down the curves of your bodies, tracing every line like it wanted to mesh you two together in a knot that even someone with pounds of muscle couldn’t untie.

At last, Choso cleared his throat, gulping so loud it had its own echo.

“Y/n…” he started, saying your name in an uneasy tone, yet almost too soft to hear over the water, withdrawing his hands for a moment, fiddling with his fingers he looked down at his feet, gathering his thoughts like one wrong word would change his life forever.

He inhaled deep, like the steam wasn’t scalding enough—like if he didn’t ask now, the moment might slip through the palms of his hands.

You blinked, lashes heavy with water sprinkling on them. 

“Yeah?” You finally answered with confusion embellishing your voice.

He swallowed hard like he wanted to back out of popping the big question, but he was already too far gone.

His eyes didn’t meet yours anymore, but you could feel them searching—just not brave enough to land.

“I don’t really know how to say this,” he muttered, voice hoarse, hands wringing together jittery like he needed something to hold onto to comfort him.

“But…”

There was a pause, a long unsettling one.

You watched him retract into himself—processing, editing, like he was writing a graded essay in his brain, chucking every word that would throw you off into his mental dumpster that tried to come out before this.

“What are we?”

Those words hit you like a truck with no intention of stopping—no brakes, no hesitation, just raw steel and impact.

They didn’t just slam into you. They peeled something open. Something you weren’t ready to unpack yet.

Your stomach dropped, a twisting ache blooming in your chest like you’d been caught in something too deep and too fast.

You knew you should’ve had this conversation prior, the “what ifs?” But of course you thought with hormones and not with intelligence.

Moving away from him, you looked side to side like you were trapped, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

Because it wasn’t just a question. It was every unspoken hope he had. A reminder how oblivious you had been these past four years.

It was him flinging his heart into your hands without knowing if you’d catch it—or crush it.

“I mean—” he scrambled, voice picking up a notch in panic. “I know I’m the one who offered… the whole stress relief thing. And maybe I’m reading into it too much, maybe it’s just me, but—”

His throat bobbed, gulping down whatever bond you two had left.

“Was this just a one-time thing?”

And that question—so gentle, so sincere—felt louder than any moan from earlier.

Because it wasn’t just curiosity.

It was hope that you’d say no. That you’d say maybe. That you’d say anything other than what he feared most.

“I—I don’t know.” You blurted without thinking, covering your mouth like you were appalled at your own sentence.

Just possibly, if he had given you time to collect your thoughts, it could’ve turned out differently.

You wanted to say it. That you were inching toward something with him too. That maybe this wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment lust.

But it felt too fast or too much—usually, you loved being overwhelmed, except not like this.

He wasn’t aware that you’d been abstinent for a reason—not just because of past burnout, but because of what the last situationship did to you.

How it left you afraid of promises. How it carved out the belief that intimacy always came with a deadline.

You’d spent months convincing yourself love was a trick, something that only lived in fairytales or those hallmark romance movies.

And yet, here was Choso.

He didn’t just fuck you. He gave you an experience that felt holy—touching you like you were his alter.

And that horrified you.

Because for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like your body was drained of all its use. It felt like something someone wanted to stay with and belong.

“You don’t know?” He repeated it so softly it barely cut through the sound of the shower. Like if he spoke any louder, it would crack something open inside him.

“Okay.” He responded, monotone, no emotion behind it, yet internally he felt desperate to kneel like a knight who was soon to be beheaded.

“I’m sorry.”

You whispered it as if it could bandage the gaping wound you already shot into his heart.

Steadily and awkwardly, you slipped out from under the stream, opening the curtains and drying your feet on the mat. You didn’t look back—not because you didn’t care, but because you did. Too much.

You reached for the towel, draping it over your shoulders like armor.

You lingered there, just a second too long. The sound of water pinging the floor filled your ears, near deafening. You almost turned back, shaking your head since the damage was already done.

He didn’t stop you. What could he say? What would’ve changed your mind?

The silence thudded louder than anything else had tonight.

As you trudged out of the bathroom, the steam curling around your ankles like it wanted to follow you, Choso remained rooted in place.

Alone beneath the falling water.

He turned slowly, reaching behind to scrub at his back—but the sting from your nails made him hiss. It bloomed sharp and sudden, and he winced at the red lines carved into his skin.

Somehow, even that hurt less than hearing “I don’t know.”

A near-permanent reminder that—for one night—you gave him a chance to hold you at all.

He mentally encouraged himself to cry, to let it all out and soften the blow.

Usually, he wouldn’t let himself.

But how could he feel weak when his tears would blur right into the water anyway?

Just like everything else he didn’t get to keep.

Divider/Boarders produced by anitalenia & cursed-carmine.

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, (nice) ANONS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <33

[ascrewupromantic]

this makes me so incredibly angry i love it so much. perfect rage bait 10/10

Veiled Secrets

art is by @3-aem they're insanely talented 🥹

pairings- emperor! gojo x arranged empress! reader

summary -you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts, but it turns out he doesn't know that you're not happy to be here either. Leaving your past love behind and everything you know for a foreign country, just to be unwanted by your new 'husband' is almost enough to break you. You're ready to go through the motions, play your role, but do you really know who Emperor Gojo is?

contents/warnings - heavy angst, depression, enemies to lovers, longing, mutual pining, explicit smut, back and forth games, court tactics, Satoru being a hoe, reader missing her lover Suguru, a fuck ton of drama and games, he falls hard. This chap - fingering, squirting, sexual tension, a fuck ton of angst, a wet dream, letters from Suguru, reader's past, jealousy on both ends, toxic Satoru (when isn't he in my fics lmao) love octagons atp, idk - enjoy - WC 11k

If you enjoy, rbs and comments are so appreciated! Taglist closed

<<<part one - playlist - part three (soon)

Part Two

You sure do turn down tea with your husband with a delighted smile the next morning, sure maybe you’re petty, maybe you’re vindictive, but it feels too good. You can’t resist feeling some sense of satisfaction at how offended he surely was, as you have tea brought to your room instead.

It’s comfy, alone in your chambers, where you don’t have to see the prying eyes of everyone at court, where you don’t have to worry so terribly about seeing your now husband with his hoard of women. You had to see it before you two wed, and you definitely already had a distaste for it - if anything it was a given, you’re sure he spent the night with them.

You don’t care for him, you don’t even think you like him, but it still is just utter disrespect to not even do your obligation to the empire in lieu of going around with his whores- sorry, concubines- instead. You hate that you even think that way, but something about having him all over you then just turning you down flat was just hurtful to your self esteem.

You try to act as if you’ve got it all together, a front for the conniving girls you’ve already run into, but it’s not completely true that you feel that way. When you disrobed and acted so boldly, you had been terrified of his gaze on you, of what if you couldn’t compete with them, but you held your composure because that was how you were trained to be.

Also, a voice in the back of your head - Suguru’s.

Whispering you’re beautiful, composing little poems he’d sneak into your hand as you both would pass each other in the halls of your castle, of your home. You ache for the carefree moments, the captured and hidden times you stole with him in the halls, under the stairwell, his soft smile and lidded gaze.

The emptiness builds, as you just lay there in your bed and think of what your life will be now, what it will entail. Feeling the guilt of enjoying last night eating you alive - what if you forgot Suguru? What if Satoru’s touch and gaze truly confused you enough, where you wanted to have all of him? What if you fell, and to share a man, a man who could never be yours.

Terrifying, to think of how badly you wanted him last night. You can only hope it was just that, just physical, something that comes from lack of experience, you can explain it away in a method that leaves you feeling just a modicum less of the guilt hot and heavy.

Soon you’re summoned, when aren’t you being summoned since you got here truly, to go play chess with Satoru. At this point it took you by surprise, when the three girls showed up in the chambers you like to hole inside of. It’s where you could be left alone with your thoughts without all the prying eyes taking hold.

Miwa smiles, the other two attendants look at you with haughty, raised brows, as you all begin to walk through the halls, to places you haven’t yet seen, a more secluded part, but you get to hear the neverending fucking court gossip on the way. You're sick to your stomach as you walk by Gojo's apparent favorite concubine, who mockingly bows at you.

“Your majesty,” she says magnanimously, as if she respects you.

You incline your head, as you wonder if it was her pavilion he went to after rejecting you. Thoughts and visions of what he'd done to you, the intimates you shared, and how he must have went much further. You hate that jealousy is seeping its way into your mind like a poison, like the venom in which she says your name then, and you wonder if it was her last night.

Why did you care, let the man whore around, it’s not as if you can do anything about it, even if it fills you with disgust. You manage to plaster on a fake fucking smile as she dares to make small talk with you. With the way the man whores it's a wonder he's not gotten them all pregnant, a curiosity that is in your mind now.

Would he get them all pregnant before you could? What happens then, if you can’t give him babies, does he decide to kill you or would he be merciful and perhaps get rid of you? The second option sounds better than this, passing girls who are fighting to become concubines themselves for whatever fifth position you suppose is left open from another girl.

“Hello, my lady,” you hear Satoru’s mother then, you genuinely smile at her, as she looks at the walking ladies with concern. “How are you my dear?”

“I’m all right, my lady, still very tired I think.”

“No, it’s quite normal on a wedding night, hmm?” Her ladies and yours giggle, you pretend to join them. “I’m glad to hear he wants to play chess, it’s his favorite game since he was a boy. No one’s ever won against him!”

“Ah, I can’t wait.”

To beat his arrogant ass at it.

She nods, and soon you’re led outside to a beautiful field of green grass on a hill, and you see the emperor sitting there waiting on you, sipping on a silver goblet, his rings glinting in the sun. His eyes catch you as you give him a bow at the bottom of the steps, taking in the odd serenity of the place, your ladies leave you both alone as you stand there.

“Come on up, Empress,” he says softly, a smile on his face. “You were too tired for tea, hmm?”

“Indeed your majesty, please forgive me.” Your mean smirk tells him all he needs to, you’re a petty little fucking creature, and it just endlessly makes him more enamored, when every woman he knows is soft and sweet - to have a little villain is intriguing him more than he’d admit.

“Sit, sit.” You do just that, he can’t help but remember last night vividly as you perch on the chair across from him, smiling like you actually could like him, a fake little one.

He’s seen your real one and it’s not meant for him.

“Thank you for inviting me to play this, your Majesty.”

“Hah, I am sure you have no clue of what this game is, hmm?” Satoru is cocky as he leans back, and you want to smack the smirk off his pretty face.

As if you didn’t know chess, as if you hadn’t been the best player there was, you used to make grown men cry and demand a rematch, until they realized just who they were insulting - the princess - and backed down. You and Suguru played constantly, along with your most trusted advisor Mr. Nanami, he was the one who originally taught you.

The longing for your home fills you from just such a small little detail now, you swallow it down as you remember sitting across from them, across from your dad and playing the game. Across from the boy you ended up falling for. It was by far one of your favorite games, though you loved a little cricket and a good game of cards too.

But let him think you’re clueless, his loss will be that much sweeter.

“Oh dear, what’s this game?” You ask, blinking a bit and putting on a fake little smile, Satoru chuckles and leans forward, his blue silken robes falling just so, showcasing his strong chest as he eyes the board.

“I had a feeling you’d not know, princesses are taught to be good wives, not much else. But if you’re to be with me, I would enjoy it if you had a little intellect, I’m not traditional I’m afraid.”

You almost kick him under that fucking table.

“How magnanimous of you, your majesty! To let women play such a man’s game, oh the kindness.” You’re fluttering your lashes some more, he pauses then, eyes narrowing at you.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Not at all! Maybe I’m wrong about you. Do teach me.” You lean forward, resting your chin on your dainty hand as he eyes you, studying how the sun is casting shadows across your pretty face under the gazebo.

You’re so stunning he can hardly stand it, how effortlessly you make him crave more, only to give him your cold, evil smile. Him, Satoru Gojo, the emperor who everyone either fears or loves, to have a girl utterly disinterested in him. It was endlessly infuriating, and he fully intended to know exactly what was your problem with him at some point.

Surely after he drank your cunt last night, you’d show a little affection, a little blush or something!? But instead, you have some evil look in your eyes, they’re glittering like two gems if he could ever find any that color. He’d scour the fucking country if he could replicate it, a foolish thought that your impudent little attitude was making worse.

Instead of going to his favorite concubine to play, he asked you, and after you turned down his tea invitation - like the spiteful brat you are - he didn’t know if you’d show up for a game you don’t know. But you’re smiling and nodding, like there’s no thoughts in your head, and he doesn’t trust it for shit. Especially when your fingers elegantly take a rook in them.

“Hmm, I think I’ll move this cute little castle over here!” You’re feigning the lack of knowledge, watching with each move as Emperor Gojo’s anger grows, his blue eyes narrowing, plush lips pursed, a little sweat on his brow.

“I see, you catch on quickly I suppose, that’s a good move,” he manages, moving his queen now, and you see it - a weakness forming in his protection of the most important piece in the game.

“Ah, thank you, your majesty, you’re so kind,” he glares again, leaning back in the seat as his thighs brush yours under the table. “I’ll place the cute horse here!”

You move the elegantly carved golden piece, and he glares now, furious as he realizes it - you’ve just put him in fucking check!?

“You’ve never played?” He raises a thin brow, and you sigh, shrugging a shoulder, your silk robes fall just a bit, revealing too much of your creamy skin, his throat goes dry as he forgets the game.

“Do you think I have? Am I rather good at it, your majesty?” You have the audacity to run your fingertips across your neck, gently touching a pretty gold necklace that he notices you wear.

“You’re adequate I suppose,” he’s lying out of his ass, and all he can think of is what is that necklace? Of touching your skin, so distracted he makes the only move he can. “Bloody hell…”

“Aha, I think I’ll use this cute bishop and… there! That’s checkmate.” You’re giggling with delight, an evil fucking laugh, and he’s dumbfounded then.

He again wonders just who the fuck you are, and why he’s so intrigued with the girl who seemingly is the only person who doesn’t want him, and the only person who has ever bested him at this game. You stand then, a hand in front of your face as you try to cover your malicious little smile.

“Again.”

“Oh, again? Certainly your majesty.” You sit back down and proceed to anihilate him in four games in a row, each one a quicker defeat with his growing frustration, his jaw tenses as he looks at you then.

“How long have you played chess, Empress?”

“Hmm, since I was about three I suppose.” He curses under his breath now, lashes lowering over those cerulean eyes.

“And you acted stupid?”

“No, you assumed I was not adept at this game, I just let you believe it. I do love when you assume I’m not well versed, remember me sucking your-”

“Jesus!” He stands then, blushing as he leans over the table, an arm on either side, scowling at you deeper. “You’re an insolent brat.”

“Who is really good at chess.” You tilt your head, as Satoru sighs, looking down at the board.

“Indeed, you are. What got you interested?”

“You want to know about me?” You say it as if it’s the worst thing in the world, he opens his lips to say the truth.

Yes, he wants to know about you.

But Concubine Lola and one of the other girls come in then, giggling and tittering as they run over to him, you blink in shock as he allows them too - as if they didn’t know their place wasn’t blatantly in front of you. They’re kissing on him, his head, his cheeks, as his hands brush down their waists, and he eyes you then, sardonic and conceited, as if this display is impressive.

“Chess, I bet you beat her so quickly! He’s amazing you know,” she gives you a nasty smile as she sits on Satoru’s lap, and you see his eyes widen as if in fear as he looks to you. “Don’t feel bad, I lose all the time.”

“I didn’t lose.” It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop, the other girl kisses Satoru right on the fucking mouth then, while Lola tugs his hand closer.

The sickness rises like bile in your throat, no you two have no connection, but to know he kissed you last night - everywhere - and to see this? What a cruel fucking joke it was, when the man you love is back home an ocean apart, when everything you loved or wanted is gone all for him.

You tremble as he pulls back then, his gaze is no longer cocky, not when he sees your face, and the way your eyes glimmer. He clears his throat, and gently nudges them off him, but neither budges unfortunately, instead touching him obscenely, a display he doesn’t think either of them have done in public. He at first thought it amusing but now he feels almost trapped.

“I am having time with my wife, ladies,” he says chidingly, when you stand up, and he feels the guilt eating at him - and why?

He’s an emperor, he’s supposed to do this, even if he should not have such a display in front of you - maybe that’s it… no. it’s not that. It’s the fact that you look disgusted right now, you’re already disinterested in him beyond any shadow of a doubt, but he hadn’t seen that look yet, a look that makes him want to tell them to fuck off and beg your forgiveness.

“You two should know your place,” you say, a soft yet commanding voice, both concubines gasp at it. “You wait for your emperor to see you, you don’t disrespect him and all propriety by running around half naked and practically humping his fucking leg in front of me.”

“Your majesty-”

“Let her speak,” his voice is soft, you scoff, shaking your head. “Go on.”

“You should have better control of your subjects, but it’s all ultimately your decision, however I know each of you have been trained properly - and that’s not how you conduct yourselves around your betters.”

“Our betters?”

 “Yes, I am your better.” They’re pouting now, as you cross your arms, eyeing the last move, where you’d put him in check in three solid moves. You smile as you pick up the queen piece then, twirling it a bit. “It’s not that you can’t have him, you certainly can, but I’ll not have disrespect in my face again. Understood?”

“Satoru!”

“You are mere pawns my dears,” you knock over four pawns, to represent each of his concubines, then your gaze catches him, you’re so fucking sexy like this he can’t focus.

It’s you he wants on his lap.

It’s you he wants to kiss.

It’s like you’re all he sees when you have the audacity to knock over his king piece too. “Oops, an accident your majesty.”

You fix the piece right, setting the queen right next to it, his fists clench at his side now. “Go on you two.”

“No need, your majesty, allow them the attention. I’ll go to my rooms, I have some things I’d like to write about.” You curtsey, all elegant as your hair falls over your shoulders, and he can hardly stand how his heart races.

“Nonsense, let me -”

“Farewell.”

You’re walking away, your skirts swishing when Satoru jumps up, the two girls falling off his lap, to grip your delicate wrist in his hand, you once again hate that his touch feels good. You hate the goosebumps that trail across your skin, the way him murmuring your name makes you feel.

“Yes? What do you require of me?” You ask now, and he sighs, lips parted as he falters.

“That won’t happen again, they’re not used to me having a wife.”

“A wife.” It’s almost laughable.

You’re his wife.

“Please,” he steps closer, and you step back just a bit, swallowing down your nausea. “It won’t happen like that again.”

“It matters naught to me, it just isn’t a good look your majesty.” You blink and feign that you don’t fucking care, like you don’t feel disgusted and disrespected constantly here.

“Satoru! Come back!” You eye them, leaning to the side, when he takes your hands in his, and you look at them, swallowing yours, elegant hands that could paint a picture, yet strong enough to wield a weapon, talented enough to make you writhe underneath him.

“They want you back.”

“And I’m fucking talking to you,” he leans down now, you swallow - throat dry - inhaling his scent, something intoxicating, as his eyes light up. “I didn’t ask them to come here.”

“You’re the emperor, you’re entitled to fuck them all you want, just not right in front of me. Is that okay to ask?”

He’s sputtering again, shaking his head. “You think I fucked them?”

“Didn’t you, last night?” You whisper, the thoughts almost making you cry, he shakes his head then, surprising you. “You didn’t?”

“No,” it’s a quiet answer, you see no reason for him to lie - if anything the man was prone to boast. You look down at his chest then. “I slept in my room.”

Jerking off to you.

“Ah, so why’d you say that?”

“I don’t know,” it’s an honest answer, for once you can sense somewhat of that sincerity, almost boyish in his look then, almost sweet when his thumb brushes the underside of your wrist, tracing a raised vein. “Will you have dinner with me?”

“You’re not demanding it of me?” You ask, soft so the women whispering about you cannot hear.

“I’m asking for it. And no, they will not be showing up to dinner.”

“Ah, very well. I shall attend, just let Kiyotaka inform me when.” You smile, and he scoffs at that. “What?”

“You like him don’t you?”

“His monocle is charming, hmm… would it bother you?” You step closer, raising your chin, your hair falling back now. “With all your women?”

“Yes it would bother me, foolish girl.”

“Never mind on dinner-”

“No, please just… you’ll have dinner with me.” You almost laugh at him then, giving him a little nod. “I’ll send Kiyotaka. Don’t look so fucking happy.”

“Your Majesty,” you give him an annoying ass bow, eyeing him under your lashes, heart achingly beautiful and cold when you peer at the girls. “I’ll let you beat them at chess, I’m afraid that won’t happen with me.”

“Oh really?” Your lips tilt up at the corner, you turn away again and leave, fuck he wants to follow you, he wants to play again, the thrill of you beating him, besting him?

Fuck it does something.

The problem is, he’s absolutely sure you don’t want to be near him, and the shit timing of the concubines isn’t helping a goddamn thing.

*****

You’re in tears despite acting so tough when you enter your lonely chambers, well they’re lonely now, after you kicked the ladies right out, in lieu of getting undressed yourself. You’re down to just a slip of material, thin and white, sighing as you study yourself in the mirror, touching the gold necklace like a lifeline, next to the chain lays a mark from him.

From Satoru Gojo.

Did he mark all of them, did he devour them like you? You know this was what is expected of an empress, but it doesn’t make it any easier, already after one day of marriage you’re having self doubt. You don’t know what the feeling is eating at you alive, but you detest it, the inadequacy you’ll hide with bold confident gestures, and hope you play it off well enough.

You shakily take out a letter, one of the last ones passed between you and your love, your teardrops have smeared the ink, blotting and spreading it in places, fading a few of the letters. You take several breaths as you read the letters carefully, lovingly, over and over, as if to make him physically real.

My princess,

It is my utmost wish to always make you smile. Today as I watched you practice your dance, I could not help but picture how it would feel to have you in my arms, spinning you on the dance floor. I suppose it’s a foolish thought, one that will never happen in public, but perhaps one evening I’ll twirl you on the floor, watch your face light up like it does.

I cannot wait to taste your lips upon mine once more, I cannot get the memories out of my head, I’ve already lost terribly in training I’m afraid. A bit of a shock when the notorious Sir Geto has been taken down by a young boy with a stick sword. But your vision flashed through my mind, and I was lost in it.

Until I can see you again,

Your Suguru

You’re a mess, picking up another letter you snuck with you, with the few comforts from back home, these were difficult to place, you hid them with a few stitches in your gowns, as everything was inspected when you entered the palace. Your fingers tremble as they touch another, on that parchment paper of his that’s just a little withered from the amount of times you’ve folded it.

My princess,

My thoughts in this letter are unforgivable in nature, but I can’t stop myself, when I remember your perfect breast in my hand, your pulse against my lips as it raced. The way your back arched, and I could feel your heat on my thigh, I confess my mind has been thinking the most wicked things ever since.

I would love to bury my face right under your skirts - I shall surely be taken down for even thinking such a thought, but here they are. Thoughts of drinking my Princess up, thoughts of you tugging at my hair as I make you feel such ecstasy, of course that would not be all I do, but a start, a show of how much I want, crave and need you.

Those thoughts are keeping me up all night.

Until we meet again,

Your Suguru.

“Fuck…” You’re exhaling as the memories make you press your thighs together, god Satoru surely made you cum with his wicked tongue - but there were no emotions with him.

A kiss with a man who loved you, or having a man who doesn’t care about you licking your cunt? The pleasure was there, but that merely adds to your guilt, it merely makes everything a million times worse. The things you wanted with Suguru first were being taken, you’re sure eventually he’ll make love to you - no, he’ll fuck you.

Satoru doesn’t look like a man who makes love.

You take out the last letter, and your heart races as you read it, remembering the moment vividly, touching your own thigh as your eyes shut, sitting in front of your vanity and losing yourself. You can’t stop stupid ass Satoru from entering your thoughts when you caress yourself, as much as you try to shove him back, his annoyingly blue eyes boring into you.

“Fuck that,” you huff now, eyeing the letter once more, until you’re touching yourself over your skirts, feeling the heat. “Focus, remember.”

You picture it, Suguru’s fingers sinking and stretching you for the first time, how his amethyst eyes lit up, and he watched you fall apart for him, whispering how beautiful you were like that. Whispering the most sweet yet filthy things - so tight, princess - and - god I need you, wrapped around me.

You’re rubbing your fingers up and down your slit, gasping out - when an unfortunate white haired ass comes into your vision again. He’s fingering you harder, faster, up and down motions that feel too intense. He’s sucking you off his fingers like Suguru did, but instead of devotion and tenderness, it was psychotic, it was like he enjoyed making you a mess.

Unfortunately, you’re gushing, and you feel like the worst sinner in the fucking world, for thinking of both men. You pull your finger off in frustration, beating chess alone had you soaking wet - he’s the most annoying man in existence truly, to constantly get this fucking reaction from you.

You try to nap, to dream of your love, but of course you’re instead lost in a dream of Satoru - but this time he’s with Suguru, and touching you in front of him. The hurt in Suguru’s eyes makes you fight it, the touches, but your body reacts, your body loves them, and soon you’re moaning, biting your lower lip in your dream state.

Soon Suguru’s tugging you, touching you, and the men are all over you, every inch of your body smothered with their affection, with their hungry eager lips and fingers, and you’re lost between them. Pressed up against Satoru’s chest, as Suguru kisses up your neck from behind, and you’re having your cunt played with by both of them, one finger inside, the other toying your clit.

‘She’s mine, aren’t you empress?’ Satoru asks in your dream, his blue eyes flashing with desire, you shake your head.

‘She’s mine, princess aren’t you?’ you nod to Suguru, when he kisses your mouth, only for Satoru to jerk your chin back to him.

‘Then why am I in this dream, hmm?’ he’s asking as he’s brushing his hand over your breast, Suguru pulling you to his chest and burying his face against your neck. ‘Explain why I’m in this dream, if you hate me?’

The dream is so vivid you almost cum from it, almost cry from it as it wraps your subconscious, only to be thankfully woken up by a gentle rap on the door. You hastily stand up, grabbing a silky red robe and tying it quickly, trying to ignore the clenching in your tummy, the throbbing of your cunt as you hate yourself for thinking of the emperor. You open the door and your shoulders relax just a bit when you see it’s Kiyotaka.

“Hello, Ijichi,” you say fondly, he smiles and bows while you open the door for him. “How are you doing today, I fear I took a nap.”

“I’m doing well, my lady,” he takes your hand and presses a kiss, pink decorating his cheeks. “You’re stunning even after a nap.”

“Not at all! Oh why can’t you be emperor?” You pout and he blushes more, earning your little giggle.

“You jest too much, my lady.” He stands now, clearing his throat, hands firmly behind him. “His Majesty said dinner will be ready in half an hour, should I send Miwa to dress you?”

“Oh, yes that’s fine, thank you. Will you be there?” He is bright red when you lean against the doorway on one hip.

“I will be there, serving his majesty.”

“Lame.” Kiyotaka snorts in laughter, before catching himself, you grin mischievously at him.

“My lady!”

“Sorry, I’ll act correctly, don’t worry, send Miwa up please.”

“Of course.” He bows with his hands under his wide sleeves, before darting off, a flustered mess because of you truly. You can’t help but enjoy him, the sweetness and friendship you all built that quickly. Miwa is soon in your room, you’ve also grown to get a little used to her in the past few days, much different than the other two girls.

“You look so lovely, your majesty,” she says then, her eyes twinkling as she sees your hair pins. “Which one should we use?”

“Why don’t you take this one,” you hand her a beautiful purple one, she blinks in surprise. “Please take it.”

“Oh thank you!” You smile and stand, slipping it into her hair, that’s swept up into a pretty coif, then eye the hair pin Suguru gave you, next to the one Satoru did.

To wear Suguru’s would be ridiculous, right?

Your fingers touch Suguru’s simple one, and touch the blue intricate one the emperor gave you instead. “Let’s do both.”

“Of course!” She places both pins in your hair, before turning and brushing just a little blush across your cheeks with her fingers, smiling then. “You look perfect, I know his majesty will be pleased.”

Like you care.

“That’s most kind, thank you Miwa.” You two walk out then, through the elegant halls, you see the shadows moving behind the doors.

I heard he doesn’t even like her.

I heard she was rude to his favorite, Lola!

Surely he would prefer sweet Lola to the mean new empress.

You hear a mix of hatred, spite, curiosity and some compassion as you pass, Miwa is tense, as if she knows what they’re saying as well, trying to distract you by telling you different places you’ve not seen yet. She’s certainly a bright spot, her jabbering is absolutely what you need after hearing more and more gossip.

Is she truly mean? She seemed kind.

She is rude I heard, Lola’s maids said so!

But isn’t it hard to be just one of many?

Thankfully, by the time you enter the hall, the talking has ceased, you see a chair at the complete opposite of where Satoru sits and take it, earning his scowl across the room. It’s meant to seat fifty people easily. You thank the servant for your plate kindly, holding your glass out as Ijichi pours your wine, and you greet your husband.

“I can’t even fucking hear you over there?”

“Oh, hello!” You shout now, raising your glass, Satoru almost kills Miwa and Ijichi for giggling with the other servants in the room, littered with paintings of all the Gojos all over the enormous sapphire painted walls. Like they’re fucking watching you, creepily all having the same insane ass blue eyes.

Sure they were beautiful - but also fuck him.

“How was your day!” You shout again, Ijichi almost loses it, coughing in his hand when Satoru stands, his hands gripping either side of the banquet table.

“Why sit there?”

“It’s a lovely seat!”

“Come sit closer, now.” He commands you, the voice you expect from an emperor who has been to battle, one you haven’t heard from him yet.

There’s no saying no to this, you already have surely annoyed the shit out of a man who could easily get rid of you. You take a breath and eye him from across the ridiculously large banquet table, beautiful even though you can’t stand him, he’s elegant and perfect as always in his robes, daringly low cut as if the man lives to show off his body.

You wish you didn’t find him so distractingly pretty, just as he wishes he could stop thinking of how badly he wants you, how badly he wants to know more about you, but he can’t find a fucking way to say it. He already knows some man is in your heart, in your head, it makes him sick as much as it makes him want to be someone you think of instead.

In the most unhealthy way, he wants you obsessed, as he is with you, with his constant thoughts since he encountered you in those baths, not uninterested like you are. He watches you hesitate from across the room before sighing and picking up your plate, but Kiyotaka takes it with a smile, carrying it over next to Satoru. 

You smile thankfully, and Satoru aches further in his chest. “Would you ever smile at me that way?” He finally gives in and asks it, you blink in surprise.

“Would you give me a reason to, your majesty?” You ask, walking to the seat next to him, which Kiyotaka has pulled out for you. “Thank you Ijichi.”

“My lady.”

“So you call him by his first name, and won’t even call me Gojo?” He’s clenching his jaw as he speaks, tapping his thigh in irritation, those eyes glinting bright blue.

“Well, I quite like him,” you’ve made Gojo furious now, he shocks you when he leans over, yanking you right on his hard thigh. “I’m not your concubine, you know!”

“You’re right, you’re my wife,” the word feels hollow, everything feels so wrong about it, your body responding to his touch in ways you wish it never, ever would. Your heart races in your chest when you feel your heat pressing on his thigh now, feel the way your pulse races when his lips are too close. “Say it.”

“No,” he chuckles without humor, cupping your face now, a thumb brushing over your lip. “Why say it? It matters naught.”

“It does matter, you are my fucking wife, not a concubine, not some tavern wench, though you certainly fucking act like one.”

“I act like a tavern wench!?”

“Sure do, dropping on your knees, though perhaps it was lovely to have this mouth shut - ah!” He’s slipped his thumb against your lips, for you to bite it, leaving teeth indentations. “You’re a bitch.”

“You’re a whore, and rude! Fuck you.” You go to stand up, and he yanks you back down, tugging you further up his thigh, his other arm wrapping your waist. “I’m not a bitch.”

“You are to me, what because I missed fucking tea? I’m here now, get the fuck over it.”

“Because I don’t want to be here, I don’t want it any more than you do!” You’re nervously playing with your necklace, he scowls at it again, tugging at the charm and seeing initials - S.G. He frowns then, looking up to study you. “What?”

“My initials?” He raises a brow in confusion, you just sigh, shaking your head, swatting his hand away. “Someone with the same?”

“Yes,” you can’t stand his gaze, penetrating every aspect of your body and soul, like he can see right through you - but he doesn’t see you. “If you wish to actually bed me, here isn’t the place for it.”

“If I wish to bed you,” he trails his fingers across your breasts, they rise and fall quickly, goosebumps rising. “I’d do it anywhere, and time, any place, till you’re so full of my cum you can’t move.”

You finally have nothing to say, lips parted at his words, swallowing nervously as he presses a kiss, almost tenderly, on your collarbone, right next to your little gold charm, his other hand slipping up your waist over the satin of your robe. You hear the rustle of it, you feel your body react, is it just desire, is it you wanting to forget your sorrow and just feel something?

“Do you cum in them?”

“Is it your business?” He scowls now at you, and you look down. “An Emperor’s duty is to have many heirs from many women, you expect me not to because you’re bratty about it?”

“Thought you hated tradition,” he scoffs then, little do you know he doesn’t want shit to do with them after one night with you. But he just presses a kiss, right under your chin, sighing as he inhales your scent, so sweet and inviting. “Gojo…”

“There, you can speak my name, hmm?” He’s exhaling, the breath tickling your sensitive skin, while Kiyotaka, Miwa and a few other servants avert their eyes, as if he couldn’t care less. “I do abhor tradition, and your first question, I’ll answer that if you answer mine.”

“You speak in riddles,” you lean closer, back curved just a bit for more of his hungry kisses now, your hand lands in his silken white hair before you can think better about it. “Ask your question then.”

“Who was your lover?” He looks back at you, you flush at his insinuation, his thumb brushes across your collarbone slowly. “The one you’re pining for, the one who apparently touched you.”

“You really want to know who I’m in love with?” You ask, and for some reason the words stab him in the chest, until he can’t breathe, he doesn’t understand exactly how the fuck that occured, or from what, but he hates that thought.

He hates the thought that someone got your pretty smile, and that all he’ll ever get is a mean scowl.

“In love? What’s that nonsense?” He asks, pulling back to grab his sake, he takes a sip and then hands it to you, watching as you take the ceramic dish and place your lips on it.

“Have you ever been in love, you such a worldly man?” You sip it as well, just a drop spilling from the corner of your mouth, Satoru gently brushes it off, sighing.

“You’re a mean little thing.”

“Not saying bitch this time?”

“Well, if the slipper fits.”

“You’re a dick.” You go to get up, but he tugs you back down, and you will never admit how much you love it, love his hard body on yours, love his big fucking hand splaying over your waist, making you feel too much.

“Carry on, let me know the answer. Who was it?” You take a breath, feeling the memories creeping up, your eyes shut for a moment, and he studies you, tilting up your chin. “Do you think of him?”

“Yes,” is all you manage, opening your eyes now. “You cannot be so hypocritical, you turned me down last night you know how that felt?”

“Turned you down, that’s not what that was.” He sighs now, shaking his head. “I will not impose myself on you.”

“Are you furious that I don’t? When every girl you’ve ever met falls to your feet, does it bruise your ego?” He glares, hand tugging at your hair and pulling, making you whine out just a bit.

“Insolent brat, no that’s not it. I did not want to do what you did not want. Does that make any sense?” You feel it then, his sincerity, you nod just a bit, and he releases your hair with a sigh. “You said ‘get it over with’ I will not lay with someone who feels that way.”

“Even if we must have heirs?”

“Even then.” You blink a bit in confusion at who he is, the conundrum that you find yourself more and more curious over.

“Well since you’re being honest with me, it wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying it, okay?” You’re blushing as you speak, looking down at your lap nervously, biting your lip while you shift just a bit. He sees it then, your nerves, your innocence you hide under bold words and actions.

You feel especially vulnerable in the moment, when he sighs and caresses your face, it’s a gentle motion, one that does more than you’ll ever want to admit. He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as you study each other. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop, his eyes darting to your lips, and this time when his thumb brushes, you don’t bite him, you just study him.

“You enjoyed what, my mouth on your pretty cunt?” Does he have to speak this way!? You look down again, for him to stop you. “Ah-ah, look at me.”

“Fine, yes, I liked it okay?” Your words make his heart race, your own eyes slip across his throat, the exposed chest, a finger brushing up and down his chest. “And you liked my mouth.”

“Liked isn’t the word for it,” you heat up further, pulse racing in your ears, while Satoru Gojo leans far, far too close, looking at you with eyes that you try not to fall into. “Were you saving yourself for him?”

“I had no choice but to stay innocent, as my station befits. But yes, I thought he’d be my… first.”

“I see, and he touched you?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Here?” He slips his fingers up, dancing across each golden leaf inlay in your immaculate yukata, feeling you tense, shift in his lap as he slowly trails his fingers down your robe, slipping the skirt up. You watch him, not stopping him, heart pounding out of your chest as you wish you could fight it - the desire for him.

His hands touch your bare thigh, eliciting a gasp from you, he sees your eyes dilate until they’re damn near black, just a ring left of those beautiful gems you call eyes remaining. Your hand doesn’t leave his hair, if anything it’s tightening, tugging at his scalp as your breaths come quicker. Your skin is covered in goosebumps, his thumbs brush right over your knee.

“Yes,” you manage to speak, and he looks down at your bare thigh, humming to himself, trailing across it now, you bite back the moan threatening the back of your throat.

“And here?” He’s slipping higher, you nod then, swallowing nervously as he brushes a thumb against the thin cotton covering your cunt, hopelessly sticky and coated in your arousal. “Here?”

“Yes, what do you care for? As if you don’t have women sucking you every day,” you grip his wrist finally, narrowing your eyes. “What care you if I was touched before?”

“And you came?”

“Yes, I did. I loved him touching me, is that what you want to hear?” You lean forward, lips a breath away, he thumbs your clit, your eyelashes flutter. “Do you like when all your whores suck your cock better than I did?”

“You have a filthy mouth, tsk,” he’s pressing harder, feeling how wet you are, while you grip his wrist tighter. “Should I put it to better use, would you like that?”

“N-no, I would hate that, ah!” You’re covering your mouth now, as he grins like the evil little shit he is, and you eye the room. “Fuck…”

“No, to answer your question, I like shutting your mouth up far more than I enjoy any of the concubines,” he’s whispering in your ear, hand stuck between your thighs, running over your slit, you’re biting on your lower lip, hating him more for being infuriatingly good at touching you. “Should I spell it out for you, that I liked it more than them? Will that stroke your ego?”

“My ego - hah - you’re the one w-with an ego, fuck…” you’re rolling your hips, when he kisses you, and you shove at him. “Who knows what’s in your mouth, where it’s been.”

“Would that infuriate you, conceited little brat?”

“Me conceited!? You should look in a - ah - looking glass…” You bite his lip hard, he moans at it, fingers making your panties a soppy mess, just sticking to you hopelessly.

“Would you be mad if I ate their cunts then kissed you?” He taunts, raising a brow, you tug at his hair hard, he only gets harder, pressing against your clit and running circles while you try to hold any composure.

“It would disgust me, not anger me,” you bury your face against his neck when he makes contact with your bare cunt, peeling the layer to the side and chuckling. “You disgust me all together.”

“I can tell, you’re so disgusted you’re wetting my fucking robes, huh?”

“Am not,” you bite the fuck out of his neck, the pain causes him to hiss, leaking precum and ready to bury his cock inside you. “If you want to make a baby then get it done, stop the teasing.”

“Is that code for you wanting my cock inside you?” You huff, shaking your head then, even as you spread your thighs, wishing the guilt would be enough not to want this man. “Say it, and I’ll give you it.”

“I’ll not say a fucking thing of the sort, should beat you at chess again and make you cry hmm?”

“God you’re evil,” he kisses you then, it’s messy and desperate, his fingers snug inside gummy walls that grip him so good. “Evil little-”

“Call me that one more time, I’ll knock you on your ass.” He chuckles at that, white teeth flashing, your squelching cunt loud as he begins to move his fingers up and down, so intense your tummy clenches. “Satoru…”

“That’s it, that's my name. You can say it, hmm?” You shake your head again, cursing his eyes for looking at you that way, his hands for finding that spot and zoning in, your eyes roll back before you can stop yourself. “Feels good?”

“Shut up,” you’re helpless to his expert touches, to his toxic fucking manner, a mix of wanting to hit him and wanting to get on your knees again, something to make you hate yourself more. “With everyone watching!?”

“Out,” his order is quickly met, until you are alone, and he grips your hair, pulling it like he did that night when you’d choked on his cock. “Alone, better?”

“Just… there, please, ngh!” You’re deep in self loathing when he hits some spot that makes you see stars, and your mouth is open in a slutty o, he can’t stand it then, how fucking gorgeous you look for him.

“Fuck you're beautiful,” you shake your head then, the last thing you need is to like him on top of wanting him. He glares at you, blue eyes narrowing, while the squishing sounds from your cunt get louder. “What I cannot say it?”

“No, you cannot,” he picks you up then, turning you and spreading your thighs, sliding his soaked fingers right into your mouth. “Mnh!”

“You taste so fucking sweet, god look at these perfect tits,” he's tugging them out of your robes as he speaks, the way he looks at you is too much, almost tender. It can't be. “Pretty nipples begging for my mouth.”

“Just fuck me, no need for all the nonsense,” he scowls deeper, smacking your hands as they trail down his body. “I want to fuck you, okay? You’re good at this, obviously, if that's your concern - it's clear that I do.”

“Yet I cannot speak freely? That you're so beautiful it's unreal?” You shake your head again, blinking back tears, terrified of his words and what they elicit, of the hurt it’ll bring. Emperor Gojo cups your face then, tilting your chin up as he steps between your thighs. “I'll say whatever the fuck I want to, got me?”

“Lies, just lies, and for what? To confuse me?” You shove at his chest then, sniffling. He yanks you down then, turning you and pressing you by the small of your back, your fingers grip the heavy damask cloth underneath you, as he shoves your robes up your hips. “Fuck…”

“Stop acting as if you don’t enjoy it, when I say that. I see those pretty fucking eyes light up,” you shake your head, you can’t like it, you can’t. He says that to everyone, you’re so sure of it. “You’re arching, need something?”

“Wanna cum, okay? I want it, is that not enough for y-your huge ego?” He’s humming to himself, a hand sliding up your throat now.

“Tell me who it was, I told you I liked you more than them, didn’t I?”

“He was… my knight.” He chuckles, making you tense, looking back at him while he toys with your dripping wet cunt once more, heavy weight pressing against you. “What’s funny?”

“It’s just so typical, a knight falling for a pretty princess, and you are pretty, I’ll keep saying it even if you don’t believe me,” he’s seeing right through you, his long fingers sinking back inside, you don’t bother to bite back the moan. “And did you want him to take it, your innocence? Be your first, your sweet devoted knight?”

As Satoru speaks in his mocking tone, his fingers destroying you with their precision, the rage hits him further - are you wet thinking of him, a man you desire, and not Satoru himself? The doubts he’s never faced or never had come creeping with a girl he barely knows, a girl he would die to be inside - but he wants you to crave it, to beg for it, to need him.

He's choking your throat now, brows drawn low together, you gasp as you feel weightless, the combination of his fingers inside you. His hard body behind you, his fingers squeezing against your pulse points about to make you shatter.

You can't speak, not when he's moving them faster and faster, you're weak and trembling while he works his long fingers up and down, hitting spots you didn't know existed. His lips touch your ear, his breath tickling it as he squeezes harder right under your chin, fingers filthy with how they work your cunt, like he’s always known your damn body.

“Answer me, did you want your knight? Do you still want him?” You nod even in his hold, as you begin to fall apart in front of a man you can't stand, the necklace just dangling as the squelching wetness gets embarrassing. “Slutty cunt, listen to her, bet you're gonna make a fucking mess f'me, hmm?”

You can't talk, your orgasm rocks you in waves, even more intense than last night with his wicked mouth. You're screaming out hoarsely as he chokes you during it, making a mess just like he said, gushing and squirting so much cum it's obscene. He moans as he feels it, the tense muscles contracting, the arousal flowing all over him as your walls pulse and grip his digits.

“Fuck, all over the table, the floor even, hmm? That slutty, that needy f'me even though you don't want me huh” He's taunting you, even as he's leaking so much pre he's whimpering damn near.

“Fuck you, god just put it in me,” he yanks out his fingers, hand slipping off your neck now, touching the charm that now infuriates him. “Do not touch it.”

“You still want him?” You look back, breasts heaving with your short, staccato breaths now, your entire body buzzing from the pleasure he'd brought you.

“What do you care?” Your voice is weak. “You want all sorts of women.”

“But you love someone, still, don't you?” The thoughts infuriate him, that someone has your heart, he starts pulling the chain then, and your eyes go wide.

“Don't you dare!”

“You love him, but you're my wife, you'll not wear this around my fucking palace.” He yanks it then, so hard the pretty chain breaks with a small clink that echoes resoundingly, right along with your fucking heart.

“No!” You turn and he sees your eyes filled with tears, torn between feeling horrible now, and the anger that he can't even have a chance with you. When all you do is pine for another man.

“No more wearing another man's initials as my bride,” you haul back and smack the fuck out of his cheek then, he grips your wrist with one hand as the other holds your now broken necklace. “You dare smack the emperor?”

“You're not my fucking ruler, this isn't my home and it never, ever will be!” You smack him again, he doesn't retaliate like you thought he might, he stands there with two red cheeks, eyes glassy as he studies your broken heart before him.

“I could cut your hands off for that.” He gives a hollow threat through his teeth, you swipe the tears streaming across your cheeks.

“Cut them off. It's worth it to knock you down a peg. I'm not one of your concubines, I'm just a fucking contractual obligation. That's all I'll ever be to you.” You look down at the little charm glinting from the soft firelight, tugging at your robes now to right them.

“You need to forget him, will you just try here? How can we have a marriage if that's in your heart?” He's softer, apologetic, when you break out into maniacal laughter, holding your stomach. “You laugh at me, insolent fucking brat?”

Your eyes lock with his. “I sure am, you say this like you don't have four - oh, five soon - other women to put babies inside.” Your words stab him as intended. “My love who I can never even have is that much of a threat, when you're kissing women right in front of me?”

“It is not the same.”

“You're right, he loved me, they just want your cock, your power, probably your mouth. They can have all of it.” You eye the necklace once more. “I'll never forgive you if you don't give it back to me.”

“You already hate me.” His voice is full of pain, your eyes almost break him when the tears well back up in them. “What's one more reason for you to despise me?”

You turn and run away, slamming the door and leaving him alone in the dining room, he throws the necklace on the table, sinking down into the seat and covering his face. His own emotions start, as he realizes he's just pushed you further, but the jealousy he feels knowing some tiny necklace means more to you than anything is like a knife to the chest.

He will buy you a bigger one. A better one. He'll have you dripping in gems and cumming on him, until you forget whatever stupid fucking knight who you fell for. He breaks down in tears himself at the sight of you, a mix of anger and already regret, something the emperor never felt.

Regret for hurting you.

A desire to try to fix it.

And a fear you would hate him truly forever.

*****

Meanwhile you rush past many servants and others, whispering about you. When the fuck weren't they? 

You're alone.

You're all alone.

Your bare neck is tinged with the color of Satoru's handprints as you eye yourself, a tear streaked mess. You quickly tug out a pen with a shaking hand, hating yourself for damn near telling that man to fuck you, the desire was undeniable but you can almost attest it to his endless experience. You almost would have let him, you would have enjoyed it too.

What would Suguru say, or think about you now? Would he love you any longer when you’re betraying him with your heart? Would he understand? And did Suguru return your love - it’s a question that makes you sick to your stomach as you pick up the parchment and dip your pen in that black ink, trying to control your breaths as you know this is foolish.

The emperor would kill you if he found them, he already is furious that you wore the necklace - which in truth was also foolish of you, but every part of you wanted to cling to your past. In his moment of vulnerability where he asked if you could just try - such a part of you wanted to try for him, but there’s a bigger part that craves protecting your heart.

To let him in your heart would be the end of you, you can already tell when he ripped that necklace so cruelly, now you touch your chest with your free hand, craving it back on, the delicate weight of it one of the few comforts you have here. For every part that knows it’s foolish, another part screams to just write to him, to just tell him a final goodbye if it could reach his eyes.

It’s the least you could do, in a dangerous court where everyone but perhaps Miwa and Ijichi despises you for just your role. And when a man you’re married to makes you question yourself, why your desires are so strong to him, making you feel like the cruelest woman to the memories you held.

My dearest Suguru

You scratch it out.

My Suguru…

Scratch it out.

Sugu,

The nickname you gave him when you were both young fits better, you smile as the memories flood back in, even as your tears fall in fat drops down your face, surely if he is the man you know, he would still care for you and understand you had no choice. He was always realistic about your time together, you were very much the dreamer in the relationship.

Relationship, that was a relationship, this is just an arrangement - an agreement between your families, there was nothing else here, you would do good to remember it next time he touched you. And of course there would be a next time, your duties didn’t disappear because you hate him, you’d eventually have to, and the fear isn’t that you’ll hate it.

It’s the fear that you’ll enjoy it.

Even now you’re clenching your legs together, tummy sore even from how his fingers stretched you out, how they moved. You shove that back in the dark recesses of your cloudy mind, taking another breath to calm yourself, putting the pen back to the paper, letters sweeping across it and forming words.

Sugu,

I fear this letter will never find you, and perhaps that is for the best, that you think me happy and living some fairy tale life as befits the station of a Princess. Maybe it would be easier for you to think that I’m living just fine, that though I’ll always miss you I found some peace and happiness with someone kind.

It wouldn’t take your pain away, but I know you care enough for me to want that, you always said so. You always warned me that what we had was fleeting, dangerous, and temporary, you talked me out of every kiss and every touch before you finally gave in to my whims. I know it was because you’re a realistic man, and I’m a bit of a dreamer, but then I’d have so many regrets.

I’d regret not knowing what it was like to feel special, to feel like the only girl in the world to you, I’d regret not having you look at me as if I hung the very stars in the sky, not feeling that emotion in your kiss. I would live forever as just one of many to my new husband, and never have known what being truly cherished was.

He does not hurt me, he is not as cruel as I heard, so please don’t fear for me, Sugu. But there’s nothing here for me, no one by my side like you were. For as long as I can remember, the day you knelt to me and I was just a little girl with a sword I could hardly hold, you have been my most trusted confidant and friend. And your friendship I fear I miss as much as stolen kisses.

My wish is for you to be happy, for you to find someone who loves you, for you to have a choice one day when you retire from the knighthood, I know you said you never would, but I can’t see you not being loving with someone. And I hope that if I cross your mind, you smile and don’t get sad with your thoughts of me.

I am forever missing you, and I want to thank you for everything you ever did, and every way you made me feel special. I told you once and you wanted me to hush, I understand it now, it was just going to hurt more for you. In that way I was selfish, I wanted every stolen moment I could get, I just wish I had more time with you before it ended.

With love always in my heart,

Yours - 

You hesitate as you almost write your name.

Princess

Suguru always called you that, a pet name or affection moreso then it was your title - now you’re an empress of a nation, but you crave nothing more than to be his princess again, than to feel that way. You cannot stop yourself from quickly folding up the letter, when a rap comes at your door, you hastily stick it inside your drawer and go to it.

“Yes, who is it?” You ask hesitantly.

“Miwa, your majesty, may I come in?”

“Of course,” you open the door, wondering how much she heard after they all exited the room, but even knowing she saw you enjoying the Emperor’s touch made you embarrassed. “What is it, Miwa?”

“I came to check on you, is that too far?” She frowns as she speaks, you shake your head, opening the door.

“No, please come in.”

She helps you undo your robes and hair methodically as she speaks. “At first I was very jealous of you.”

“Of me? Why?” You ask, watching pink dance on her pale cheeks as her blue eyes watch you.

“You’re married to the Emperor, I confess I would die to be in a position like that, a concubine or a wife to him. I have always coveted being near him, I found him always so kind…”

“Ah, that’s understandable. I’d trade positions with you.”

“My lady…”

“Well, I would.” She sighs, nodding now.

“I see you don’t want to be here, I see your sadness, I feel bad that I was mean about you at first,” she takes your hand now. “Would you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Miwa, but thank you.” She exhales in relief, beginning to grab the robe you sleep in, tugging it gently over your arms. “You have been most kind to me in fact.”

“It is nothing, I’m sure the other girls will see that you’re actually quite kind.”

“I’m not sure I am kind,” you think now at how nasty you were to Satoru, to the concubines earlier. “I used to be, before I came here.”

“You’re still kind, my lady.” Your shoulders slump just a bit in relief at her words, when she begins brushing out your hair.

“Miwa, if I asked you to get a letter back home, could you?”

She pauses then, eyes locking on yours in the looking glass. “A letter?”

“It’s for…” you can’t say who it really is for, but you know your servant who used to pass those letters was as loyal as they come. “It’s for my Nan, she basically raised me, and I miss her dearly. She was like a mother to me.”

You hate lying, but she’s immediately sympathetic. “I can certainly see if I can get it out, I will go to town tomorrow and have letters from the palace I’m taking. But your land is very, very far.”

“I know, it’s a long shot, but if you could try I’d be eternally grateful.” You touch her fingers that rest on your shoulder now. “I’m all alone here.”

“You’re not, you have the emperor - I am sure he’ll come to admire you, my lady, maybe give him some time?” You smile as if you believe a word of that. “But of course I can.”

“Thank you Miwa,” you have another letter you had written to Nan later wrapped around the letter for Suguru, sealed with wax the next morning as you give it to her, and as she’s leaving, Kiyotaka is walking up with a little black velvet box in his hand. “Good morning, Ijichi.”

“Good morning my lady,” he bows, and you tilt your head curiously as you look at the box. “His Majesty asked me to bring this for you to wear tonight.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you.” You take the box from his hands with a friendly smile, exhaustion making your temples ache. To say you slept like shit was quite a fucking understatement.

You take the long box and sit it on your bed, undoing all the frilly blue ribbon carefully, when you see it. A beautiful sapphire necklace laying on a bed of light satin, your jaw clenches as you see the note attached to it. You pick it up carefully, unfolding the parchment, which has a seal of the emperor on it.

My dear bride,

Since you like necklaces so much, I decided you should wear a beautiful one, around your pretty little neck. I look forward to seeing this adorn your collarbone for our dinner tonight, as well as the dress I’m having sent up to you. It’s part of the Gojo family jewels, so you can adorn yourself with a part of your most loving husband.

Yours,

Satoru.

As you fume over his ridiculous, conceited and insane fucking gesture, Satoru is in his own chambers, toying with the little delicate necklace, the one he broke off your neck last night, staring at it with narrowed eyes, wondering just who the fuck had possession of your heart. He contemplates two things-

Fixing it, so you may not hate him.

Or melting it into a fucking fire.

Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine

Laughs at me thinking this was four parts and we're at like over 22k wc already LMAOO and they still hate each otherrr - let's go

taglist 1 - @kimkimoruo @dazed-lavender @kitchen-cryptid @labelt-san @enyathedrakaina @astrasworldsblog @7thsthings @kitassecretgf @heavenlystarstruck @gh0stgirl333 @wisepeachwitch @jeankirschteinsimp @mochii-13 @gojom0jo @liasacountgothacked @ic-slxt @lumilarity @unwillingstars @cl3xr @duooy @jo-potter1 @tojicidal @captainsarcasmandsass @plimplimmeiododoi @ciciley12-blog @riddhimabhatt @cinnamonpinktea @ravenbc @nienieeeeeeee @ihateexistence @yesdere @p1nkfl0wers @luvsymai @yihona-san06 @mysticranger575 @bunn1o @aldebrana @trishiepo0 @altyx @dyedscarletletter @vinsushi @crazyartist0001-blog @kitty-yaps @lnette04 @kindasortafairytale @yasmin-oviedo @lvc-lv @ashlantismorning @babychickenscareme

[ascrewupromantic]

THE ARMS THE CHEST UWHSHSOAPQ082929EIEJSK!?#+$)#?!????

[ascrewupromantic]

Hey i’m a fashion design student so i have tons and tons of pdfs and docs with basic sewing techniques, pattern how-tos, and resources for fabric and trims. I’ve compiled it all into a shareable folder for anyone who wants to look into sewing and making their own clothing. I’ll be adding to this folder whenever i come across new resources

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/16uhmMb8kE4P_vOSycr6XSa9zpmDijZSd?usp=sharing

[ascrewupromantic]

lmfao??? he’s so petty as if he wasn’t freaking her out on purpose 😭

Conjuring Ryomen Sukuna

pairings - Haunted Doll/Demon Sukuna x f!reader

summary - Your haunted doll Sukuna is really creeping out everyone you know, so you're tired of it! He is always watching, he scares your dates away - rude! You decide enough is enough, and after numerous times trying to destroy him, you get the help of a friend to sage/smudge the house. Big mistake!

warnings - Horror tbh lol, COMPLETE CRACK, spitting, name calling, oral (f receiving) Sukuna being psycho and just a freak, mating press, rough sex, creampie, Sukuna is basically Anabelle lmfao.

You can thank @yenayaps for spurring this on and for making the Sukuna pic lmao!! (also @indiewritesxoxo bc they rly get me on the weirdest paths)

You have tried so many times to get rid of your creepy, haunted ass doll!!! He's so torn up and raggedy, he's still covered in dirt from when you've buried him. He's sewn together in places (you never sewed him!?) his creepy ass grin and red button eyes terrifying as ever. You've thrown him in a blender, a dumpster, you've thrown him in the damn pond!

Fuck you burned him, earning some singed raggedy pink hair. But Nothing Works!!

He's always coming back, showing up on your chair, showing up in your fucking bed!? Sometimes you'd wake up and scream, and throw him out of the attic window, sometimes you'd stuff him in a trunk up there and you'd hear his creepy little footsteps as he ended up back in that rocking chair. You'd push him in your closet and he'd be sitting at the dinner table, waiting for you to serve him.

Not like you ever would!

What's the worse is when you tried to bring a date over, and the moment you thought maybe you could get off a bit - (fuck you deserve it living with this demonic doll) - the doors start slamming and the lights flicker! All of your dates run away in fear, and you're left endlessly frustrated all the time.

"I swear, I'm getting rid of you today!" You say this morning, shaking the doll and then throwing it on the floor, just for it to move it's head, making you scream. "God you're creepy, just wait!"

Your friend is a whole hippie, and thank goodness for that. You've buried Sukuna again in your garden, wiping the sweat off your brow as your friend looks at you with a concerned gaze. "I'll be right in, please go ahead!"

You may look insane burying this doll in your yard every week, surely the neighbors are concerned, but they have no clue the torture this damn thing causes. Cheap mortgage payments are not worth it!

"This is what you get for buying a haunted house you know," you're walking in, washing your hands in your kitchen as your friend shakes her head. "The energy in here is insane."

"I know, ugh. You know I couldn't afford anything else!" You dry your hands on a towel as she starts laying out crystals, evil eyes, and lighting the sage. The smoke makes you cough it's so thick, when she hands you one.

"Repeat this - you will not harm me."

"You will not cock block me!"

"Hey!" You blush then, realizing your words, clearing your throat as your friend rolls her eyes. "Why do I deal with you?"

"He really does, I haven't gotten dick since I've been here," you pout and she starts walking through the house, shivering. "Yeah, he sits in my room the most."

"We'll put extra protection in here," she's smudging more, opening all the windows, as you follow her - praying this doll was done - the next step was a whole exorcism!!

The doll doesn't return that day, you almost can't believe your luck, and that night he's still not there! You freely go on a date - he's not even that good of a kisser but you really need to get laid, it's been a whole year since this doll started. He's fingering you good enough in the car, that you decide to bring him in.

Typically, this is when your doll would start messing with you, but the house smells so clean and it's blissfully empty. Your date is kissing down your body as you lay in your bed, and for once the creepy doll isn't even here staring at you!

Yay for Sage!

"So pretty," he's murmuring, kissing up your thigh, you're moaning then, it's just been so long, you were even scared to masturbate because he's watched so much! "So wet..."

"Shh," you didn't need the dude to talk, no you really need to cum - but of course, he doesn't know what he's doing. But that's okay, you're just excited your creepy ass doll is gone, so you tug his face where it needs to be and work with it. "Mnh!"

"Hmm," that sound doesn't come from him, or you, in fact he's buried against your pussy when you look curiously to see it-

That Fucking Doll!

He's grinning at you, making you scream when your date pulls his lips off whatever part of your pussy he was going for, looking at the chair then. "Oh, I didn't see that - it's fucking creepy!"

"Just... um ignore it..." Soon the doll has slammed the damn door, your lights flicker again, and your tv is going on and off. "Dammit..."

"I'm sorry but... this is too creepy, he's like haunted!?" Your date runs out when the doll turns his creepy ass head, and you're done. You tug on your panties, picking the doll up by his hair, scowling.

"I'm getting an exorcist tomorrow, you creepy little shit!" You throw him out of your room with a huff, locking your door and grimacing, throwing a hand over your face.

You almost could have cum just grinding on the guys nose, you're that needy after this year of hell! You're grabbing your vibrator, spreading your thighs then, eyes fluttering shut. You have to just cum and you'll feel a little better, surely, hopefully the stupid doll does his usual routine and comes in after a couple hours.

The vibrations are hitting your clit, and your hips rise up, shutting your eyes and imagining how good it'll be to get rid of this stupid fucking doll, when the vibrator is snatched from your hand and thrown against the wall. You scream at that, eyes opening when a hand comes over your mouth.

Who the fuck is this!?!?

He's got glowing red eyes just like your doll, but he's huge, and he's naked, covered in tattoos as your eyes dart down his throat, his chest, and his big hand lets go. He smirks down at you, when you scooch up the bed, chest heaving, and he eyes your pussy, lapping at his plump lower lip.

"You thought that loser or that toy could make you cum, brat?" his voice is gruff as he speaks, you reach for your phone, but he throws that now too.

"Who are you!? How'd you get in?" You're covering yourself up with a pillow, only for him to throw that now too, as you look all over the room. "I have a haunted doll, he'll scare the shit out of you."

He laughs then, throwing his head back, before giving you an evil fucking grin, straddling your bed and making it creak with his heavy weight, one arm on either side of you. "Oh you're fucking dumb."

You glare and smack the shit out of him then, screaming out as your palm stings, he's chuckling again, and you see him hard, he's fucking huge. Veiny, a good nine inches, leaking precum on your damn bed, as he shoves up your top.

"Get the fuck out, who breaks in naked - you're a creep!" He's chuckling now, shaking his head, pink hair messy, his fingers gripping your breasts.

"I'm tired of watching you try to fuck all these losers," you gasp then, lips parted.

"You can't be..."

"My name isn't Anabelle by the fucking way," he says, glaring at you, and you tremble. "It's Sukuna, king of fucking curses."

"Oh whatever as if you're a king- Raggedy Andy looking- ah!" Sukuna is done with you then, he has a huge hand around your throat, as his other finds your soppy little cunt.

"I'm not raggedy andy, I'm a fucking demon," you're shaking your head again, but when he touches your clit with his rough fingers, you can't help but cry out. "Cunt is desperate, so slutty."

"You're really the doll!? I saged you! Oh fuck," he's rolling in circles now, his heavy cock looking more and more tempting - you weren't really gonna fuck your haunted doll were you!?!? "Ngh!"

"You just brought me out, hah - pathetic, looking at you with your stupid ass crystals, think they work on me?" He's shoved two thick ass fingers inside you now, you're rolling your eyes back, pulsing around them already.

"W-why don't you... just leave me alone... ah!" You're saying it as you're gushing down his fingers. "I was finally gonna cum - you haunted fucking chucky doll!"

"I'm not chucky or fucking anabelle!" He's furious then, pulling out his fingers and shoving them in your mouth, you're sucking on them without thinking, when he scowls at you. "I can't believe you lit me on fucking fire- oh and I'm claustrophobic by the way!? you mean ass little-"

"Don't you dare even! Fuck, could you just... get me off! It's your fault I never do! Maybe I wouldn't burn you or throw you in the pond if you were useful!'

"Useful, you're such a bitch.." you smack him again, just making him harder - it's been eighty years trapped in that stupid fucking vessel, and he's had to watch you naked for a year! He's far more needy thatn you.

"Don't call be that, fucking Robert the doll but even lamer!"

"You listen to too many much horror podcasts, oh and you know he wouldn't have got you off, yeah?"

"Like you can, you're a doll!"

"I'm a fucking demon, now shut up," he's yanked off your panties, shoving them in your mouth, when he leans down and brings your pussy right against his face. "I'll show you how to really cum, fucking insolent brat."

"Who the fuck says insolent- ancient ass- oh fuck," he's spreading your lips, eyeing your pretty cunt, he'd tell you it was pretty if you weren't always trying to destroy him or stuff him in boxes. But for now, he'll think it, drinking your cunt up and moaning as he ruts his cock against the matress. "Oh god! There, there, fuck!" You're tugging at his hair when he nips your clit, smacking your hands now, scowling with his bright red eyes. "Ow!"

"Don't tell me what to do, pathetic human, be thankful I'm letting you have this," he is so fucking pretentious for a doll you think to yourself, wishing you could toss him back into that trunk in the attic until he's sucking on your clit. "Mmm... should thank me."

You're gushing then, how can you not, his tongue swirling your clit, sucking it into his hot mouth, the little thing twitching as he vibrates it with his stupid demon mouth. You wonder if the doll actually killed you and you're in some weird limbo with it, maybe it dragged you to hell, but it feels so good you honestly go with it.

He's messy, sloppy and somehow precise as he drags your thighs closer, sucking up all your juices. You're writhing under him, closer and closer, while he devours your pussy so hungry, he won't tell you how good it tastes either, you're too much of a fucking brat for all that - you've given him PTSD from all the ways you've hurt him!!!

"Cum, now - whiny little brat..." You're screaming out before you can stop yourself, his tongue slipping up to collect all the juices that spill as you're yanking his hair again.

The orgasm hits far too good, you're making a mess and squirting on your - haunted doll's!?- face then, he grins, lapping it up, before leaning up and wrapping a tattooed hand around your throat. He spits right into your mouth after prying it open, you're choking as you swallow it, only for him to bend you in half, slamming his thick cock in as much as it can go.

"G-god... oh my... you're too big, fuck!" You're trying to back off, but he drags you back, smirking as he presses your thighs up, smushing them against your breasts and fucking deeper.

"Tired of listening to you every fucking day, bitchy and annoying, tired of you bringing losers - ah fuck you're tight - home. And tired of - mmm - you trying to get rid of me!"

"I'm - ah! - tired of - fuck, there!" You're done as he's fucking you so good then, you've never had dick like his, it's tearing you apart with each filthy fucking stroke. You're trying to scratch at his back when he pins your wrists down, pressing all his heavy weight on you.

"Shut you up - hah - fuck..." Your cunt is milking him, it's been a good hundred years since Sukuna has fucked anything, he would jerk off in his vessel but it wasn't the same! And he's wanted you too long, so he's trying to hold back for a moment as your gummy walls grip his veiny length.

"W-won't sage you if you... mnh, make me cum again - ah!" He's scowling now, fucking you harder, breaking you in half with his mean cock - you have to hope that he doesn't have some creepy fucking doll stds or something!?

"Haven't fucked in... a hundred years... gonna cum so much, in your slutty little fucking pussy - mine, not that fucking losers..." you feel a little relief, a hundred years he should be okay, but you're still half convinced you're dead or asleep anyway.

"Cum in me," he smirks then. "Oh stop it, just do it."

"Slut, fucking mean ass brat, fucking.... god your pussy..." he also thinks you're pretty, but you sure wouldn't hear that either!

Sukuna fucks you in that mating press, until he's got you cumming again, pulsing around him with your aftershocks, and he lets out a hundred fucking years of cum, white ropes busting in your pussy, bulging your tummy.

"So much what the- you're still cumming!?"

"Shut up, god... fuck..." He's losing it now, he almost kisses you, but instead he's spitting in your mouth again, moaning as he pulls back, watching his own cum being pushed out down his length.

"I'm like hallucinating or dead," you're whining out then, as he pulls back, cum spilling all over your bed, as he smirks, fingering it back into your hole. "I'm sore! It's been a year because of y-you!"

"Shut up, fucked ya good enough yeah?" You're just trembling now, as he pulls back, sighing and laying next to you, on one arm. "I require clothing."

"Aren't you going back to like being a creepy doll?"

"Tch, no, the sage released me, and now your sexual energy is feeding me," he's tugging you against him, frowning as he studies you. "You were so mean to me!"

"You were a haunted doll! And never let me get dick."

"Well obviously not," he's blushing now, and you can't help but giggle. "Do not laugh at me, mortal!"

"Oh sorry, I may have some old sweats or shirts from my ex, let me look." You hop up now, shaking your head when he tugs you back on his lap. "What is it?"

"I'm scared by myself, that's why I kept going to your room, and you just kept throwing me away," he's nuzzling your neck now, kind of sweet for a demonic possessed doll. "Don't do it again!"

"Okay fine, I won't. Now I feel bad!"

"You should!" He's sinking sharp teeth into your neck, fucking you again, as he has much to make up for, making sure to fuck all his frustrations out of his mistreatment!

This is silly LMAO

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[ascrewupromantic]

i audibly “awww”ed when zayne brought the bouquet 😭 they’re both so cute

The Pull Beneath the Skin

Word Count: 7.5k

- Ao3 -

Hearts In The Static

Zayne reveals his vulnerable side, while Xavier and Zayne show Aven something she doesn't know what to do with.

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Isekai, OC insert, Polyamory / Polyamorous Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Chronic Illness, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, body image issues, Unreliable Narration, Protective Male Characters, rivals to lovers (sort of), past trauma, Everyone Loves Her But She Doesn’t Know Why, Heavy Angst, Fix-It Fic (but of the soul) Mental Health Themes (Depression, ADHD, pcos, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), Suicidal ideation (past), Self-Harm Mention (Non-Graphic Flashback), Emotional Abuse (Referenced past) - Freeform, Body Dysmorphia, Trauma Recovery, Discussion of Medical Symptoms, feelings of worthlessness, Slow Healing & Difficult Conversations, themes of death, Survival, and identity

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Chapter 3:

I didn’t know how long I sat there, folded in on myself, gripping the edges of the blanket like it could anchor me to something real. Maybe minutes. Maybe a lifetime. The silence in the room pulsed like a second heartbeat—steady, inescapable.

I didn’t want to look up.

But I could feel them.

Zayne, still and unreadable. Not cold, exactly. Focused. A storm frozen mid-motion.

Xavier, closer now. His presence less like a wall, more like a current—quiet but insistent, impossible to ignore.

Neither said anything at first. No clipped medical assessments. No polite detachment. Just… stillness.

And then Xavier spoke.

Not with a question. Not with pressure.

Just softly.

“You’re not okay.”

The words weren’t accusatory. They weren’t pitying either. Just… true.

I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Thanks for the bulletin.”

He didn’t flinch at the sarcasm. Just stepped a little closer, enough that I could feel the warmth of his presence. Not touching. Not crowding. Just there.

Zayne’s voice followed, quieter than I’d ever heard it—even in the game.

“There’s something about you.”

I blinked hard, throat tight.

“Let me guess,” I rasped. “The walking disaster thing? The black-hole-of-broken-girl energy?”

“No,” he said simply. “Something… else.”

I finally looked up. His eyes were already on me.

And what scared me more than anything was that he wasn’t analyzing me anymore.

He was feeling something. Trying to name it.

Like I was the question that had been haunting the back of his mind and he didn’t know why.

Xavier’s gaze flicked to Zayne, then back to me. “I felt it too. When I first saw you.”

“That’s not helping my already rapidly deteriorating mental health,” I muttered, hugging my arms tighter.

But it didn’t come out with heat. Just exhaustion.

And fear.

Because whatever they were feeling? That inexplicable draw toward me?

I felt it too.

I’d felt it the moment I saw them. Not just recognition . Not just memory. Something deeper . Like strings pulled too tight across lifetimes finally snapping taut in this one.

It terrified me.

Because I didn’t deserve any of it.

Because I’d tried to end myself—and somehow ended up in front of the only people who’d ever made me feel like I mattered, even if it had only been through a screen.

I didn’t know what was happening.

I just knew I couldn’t survive it if they got too close.

If they cared .

The silence between us crackled.

Xavier stood near the vitals monitor, scanning the flickering readouts like they might rearrange themselves into something that made sense. Zayne remained quiet, his weight shifted just slightly onto one heel, arms now loosely crossed—not closed off, just… waiting.

I hated how aware I was of him.

How close he stood without seeming to loom.

How his stillness didn’t feel cold—it felt deliberate .

I turned my eyes away, grounding myself in the stiff edge of the blanket around my shoulders. The fabric scratched faintly against my collarbone, a reminder that I was still here, still solid—even if I didn’t feel it.

A soft chime broke the air.

Ding.

It was quiet, barely louder than the ambient hum of the hospital, but Xavier’s eyes immediately dropped to the sleek, circular interface embedded in the inside of his left wrist—his Hunter’s Watch.

Something pulsed there. A red flicker across a display of cryptic coordinates and signal telemetry I couldn’t decipher.

Xavier sighed through his nose. “Wanderer surge near the South Ridge.”

Zayne’s head tilted slightly, but he said nothing.

“I need to reroute the Beacon team,” Xavier muttered, almost to himself. Then, glancing at Zayne: “You good?”

Zayne nodded once. Crisp. Quiet.

And that was it. Xavier turned for the door, casting one last glance at me. His voice was lower now—just for me.

“I’ll check back later.”

Then he was gone. No further words. Just the whisper of the sliding door and a shadow that slipped through it like mist.

Now it was just me.

And him.

Zayne.

The air felt different with Xavier gone.

Thicker somehow. Like the walls had drawn closer.

Zayne’s presence didn’t change—but I felt it more now. The shape of him. The quiet pressure of his gaze, like a soft hand pressing down on my sternum. Still, unreadable. But not uncaring.

My pulse skipped. Or maybe it stuttered.

I didn’t dare look at him fully.

But then he spoke—low, steady, as if every word were calibrated for maximum control.

“You’re afraid of being known.”

I flinched.

It wasn’t a question.

“I’m afraid of being seen ,” I corrected, voice barely above a whisper.

Zayne shifted slightly, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him step closer to the side of the bed. Not invading. Not looming. Just existing so fully it made my skin hum.

“You said earlier… you weren’t supposed to survive.” His voice was softer now. Still clipped, but with the edges turned inward. “But you did .”

I didn’t respond.

I didn’t have a response.

The worst part? I think he understood that.

The silence stretched.

Then a gentle knock broke the tension.

The door creaked open, and Yvonne leaned in, her expression warm, calm as ever. “Observation’s ready,” she said softly, eyes flicking between us. “I can help her get settled—”

“I’ve got her,” Zayne said, cutting in without looking away from me.

Yvonne’s brows rose slightly. “Are you sure?”

Zayne gave a nod so slight it was nearly imperceptible. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

That made me blink.

Wait… what?

Yvonne looked just as surprised, but covered it with a gracious smile. “Of course. I’ll make sure the staff updates your rounds.”

She gave me a quick wink like she knew something I didn’t, then disappeared as quietly as she came.

Zayne didn’t move right away.

Neither did I.

He was still watching me. Not unkindly. But deeply. Intensely .

He never does that, I thought wildly. Not in the game. Not in the logs. Not unless someone’s bleeding out or coding on the table.

But now—here—he was staring at me . Like I was some kind of unknown equation scrawled across the inside of his ribcage.

“You’re taking time off?” I said at last, trying to keep my voice level.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“I am now.”

I couldn’t help it—I stared.

Because Zayne Li didn’t rest . In every bit of the game I’d played, he practically lived in the hospital. He’d worked himself to the brink during major events. Stayed behind after every shift. The word off-duty didn’t exist in his lexicon.

Yet here he was, telling me he was stepping away from the one thing that gave him order.

For me.

My throat tightened.

I didn’t know what scared me more: the fact that he meant it, or the growing weight inside my chest that whispered you’re not allowed to want this .

Zayne stepped forward and extended an arm.

Not a command. Not protocol.

An offer .

One steady, gloved hand held out, palm open, patient.

I stared at it like it was a scalpel aimed at my chest.

Zayne Li… offering contact ?

The man who kept a polite half-meter of distance even in cutscenes. Who brushed off emotion like static clinging to his coat. Who once ghosted the entirety of Bloomshore’s annual gala just to cover an extra trauma shift in the event logs.

I hesitated, blood thudding in my ears.

He didn’t move. Didn’t pressure. Just waited.

And something in that— the stillness of it —felt more disarming than kindness ever could.

My fingers twitched.

Then, slowly, I reached out and placed my hand in his.

His grip was firm but gentle. Grounding. A quiet sort of strength—not the kind that demanded anything, just held steady while the rest of me shook.

He helped me rise.

And when my legs faltered, his other arm came around me with precise, clinical support… but not impersonal. Never that.

His body was warm where it braced against mine. Solid. Controlled.

Zayne didn’t do anything halfway.

The weight of that hit me harder than I expected.

He’s walking me to Observation.

He’s taking time off for me.

It was absurd. Illogical.

It was Zayne .

And I knew what that meant.

Not because I’d seen the lines of code that built him—but because I’d watched the cracks in his armor from the inside.

I knew how he carried the weight of Dawnbreaker —that other version of himself, stitched from shadows and sleeplessness. The nightmares that left his eyes hollow even when he smiled. The quiet ache in his shoulders he never acknowledged. The battle he fought to hold his light and control in balance, even as they pulled him apart.

I knew the story he never told anyone else—the one buried in his Myth Event , behind locked scripts and broken memories. I’d seen him lose the people he tried to protect. Seen him fail. Seen the echo of her —the girl who’d once reached for him through fire and ash, only to vanish with a breath of light.

I wasn’t her .

I wasn’t anything.

And yet… here he was. Holding me steady. Walking me down a hallway that felt impossibly long, impossibly silent.

“I can walk on my own,” I murmured, not pulling away but needing to say it.

Zayne didn’t look at me. “I know.”

But he didn’t let go either.

We passed through a wide corridor where the lights dipped softer, the noise of the main ward fading behind us. Observation was quiet. Secluded. A curved row of private recovery rooms backed by a garden dome flickering with soft artificial starlight.

I could feel my pulse echoing between my ears again. Not from fear this time.

From something else.

Why are you doing this?

I wanted to ask him.

I knew him. Or I thought I did. But this?

This was different.

He wasn’t just being kind. He wasn’t just being efficient.

Zayne Li didn’t make time.

Not unless it meant something.

And that terrified me more than anything.

The door hissed open with a quiet chime as Zayne guided me inside.

The room was softly lit, edged in gentle golds and silvers that reflected off the curved window panels along the far wall. Beyond them, the simulated starlight shimmered faintly across the artificial garden—trees with glowing leaves, tiny motes drifting like fireflies across the branches.

A place meant for healing.

I didn’t sit right away.

Zayne guided me gently to the side of the medbed, and only when he was certain my legs wouldn’t buckle, he stepped away—just far enough to give me space, but not so far I felt alone.

I folded my hands in my lap, the hospital blanket still draped over my shoulders like a second skin. My breath came slowly, but the ache in my chest hadn’t left.

Zayne lingered by the wall console, adjusting the ambient settings. He didn’t speak. The silence between us wasn’t awkward—but full. Like a conversation still waiting to be given shape.

Then, finally, he turned back toward me.

“You don’t want to be here,” he said softly.

It wasn’t a question.

I stared at the floor, heart thudding. “Is it that obvious?”

“You wear it like a pulse.” He paused. “Heavy. Distant. Like every breath costs more than it’s worth.”

I swallowed hard. My fingers tightened.

“You’ve seen that before?” I asked.

Zayne didn’t answer right away. He walked to the chair near the medbed and sat—not rigid, not postured, just... human.

And for the first time since he entered the room, his eyes didn’t look at me like a puzzle.

They looked at me like a mirror.

“I’ve lived it,” he said quietly.

The weight of those words settled deep.

“I know what it’s like,” he continued, “to look in the mirror and see everything you think makes you unworthy staring back. To measure yourself in flaws. To exist in the shadow of your own expectations until there’s nothing left but static.”

His voice wasn’t rough. But it wasn’t smooth either. It was real .

“You think if you shrink enough, if you hurt enough, if you break yourself down to pieces small enough, maybe the world won’t notice you exist. Maybe the ache will finally stop.”

A shudder ran through me.

He knew.

He didn’t know why . He didn’t know my story. My world. The game.

But he knew the shape of the pain .

And in that moment, I hated how much I needed to hear it.

Zayne exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping to his hands. “Sometimes, the only reason I stay standing is because the collapse would be too loud.”

Something cracked inside me.

A sound—not quite a sob—escaped before I could bite it down. I clutched the blanket tighter, trying to fold into myself, trying to hide the sting behind my eyes.

Zayne didn’t move.

He didn’t reach for me. Didn’t say it’s okay or you’re strong or you’ll get through this .

He just sat in that silence with me.

Present.

Whole.

And hurting in a way that echoed my own.

After a long moment, he stood. Smoothed the hem of his coat. Reset his expression to something quieter, more composed.

But just before he reached the door, he paused.

Half-turned.

“Pain doesn’t make you broken,” he said without looking at me. “It means you’re still here.”

I didn’t have words.

And maybe I didn’t need them.

He left with the same quiet grace he’d carried since the moment he arrived—his footsteps soft, the door hissing shut behind him.

And I sat there, the starlight blinking outside the window, wrapped in a blanket that suddenly felt more like a lifeline than a shield.

Still here.

The door had been closed for a while now.

Zayne was gone.

But his words hadn’t left.

They sat in my chest like warm stones dropped into a cold river—sinking deep, dragging all my carefully wrapped shame with them. Every syllable echoed beneath my ribs.

“Pain doesn’t make you broken. It means you’re still here.”

Still here.

I leaned back slowly against the medbed, letting my body sink into its clean, clinical softness. My fingers traced idle lines over the blanket pooled in my lap as I stared out the curved window toward the artificial garden beyond.

The starlight there shimmered in silence, unbothered by my existence. Unchanged.

The kind of light that didn’t care if I was pretty, or valuable, or good .

Just… there.

Like I was now.

And Zayne— Zayne Li , the unshakeable, untouchable cardiac surgeon—had seen something in me I thought was best left buried.

I closed my eyes, letting the quiet of the room wrap around me.

I could still feel the phantom weight of his hand, the warmth of his presence, the echo of his vulnerability. A crack in his armor, and somehow, it had reached mine.

Maybe he didn’t know why.

Maybe I didn’t want to find out.

Because if they knew I recognized them—if they knew what I really was—I didn’t know what would happen.

I didn’t want to find out.

The thought tightened around my throat again.

I was balancing on a wire made of silence and secrets. Pretending I didn’t feel the gravitational pull in every glance. Pretending I didn’t know the code of their smiles and the histories that lived in their shadows.

Pretending I was no one.

Because that’s all I was.

Just a glitch who got caught in a fall and ended up too close to the stars.

I opened my eyes, breath catching as the lights dimmed slightly on the console, indicating sleep cycle initiation.

I hadn’t moved to lie down yet. Just watched the starlight flicker.

Then—

Hiss.

The door slid open again.

My heart jumped. I sat up straight, pulling the blanket instinctively higher up my shoulders.

But it wasn’t Zayne.

It was Xavier.

Back.

Quiet as before, but... different.

His coat was rumpled, streaked faintly with dust and smoke. A few strands of his silver-blond hair were plastered to his forehead, and a thin cut traced along the edge of his jaw, already cleaned but not yet sealed. His presence was still—grounded—but something buzzed beneath it now, like barely contained electricity.

He paused in the doorway as his eyes met mine.

Something shifted in his expression.

Not surprise.

Relief.

And that startled me more than anything.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said softly, stepping inside.

“I was… thinking,” I replied, unsure what else to say. “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Wrapped it early,” he said, which was probably the most understated way to describe fighting extradimensional monsters I'd ever heard.

“You’re injured,” I pointed out, nodding to the cut.

He glanced at it like it was an afterthought. “It’ll heal.”

Of course it would. He was built like someone who forgot what pain was supposed to mean.

He stood across from me for a second, then took a slow step closer.

His eyes searched my face again, scanning like he was trying to measure something unseen.

“Zayne said you were quiet after I left.”

I looked away. “Wasn’t much to say.”

“No,” he murmured. “I suppose not.”

He didn’t push.

Instead, he just stood there, letting the silence stretch between us like thread being slowly wound into something neither of us had named.

Finally, he spoke again.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said carefully. “But I know what you feel like.”

I turned toward him slowly. “And what’s that?”

He didn’t blink. “Like a storm that’s already passed, pretending it’s still raining.”

My breath caught.

I didn’t know what I was expecting him to say. But it wasn’t that .

And the worst part?

It fit .

Perfectly.

I swallowed hard, blinking against the sting behind my eyes.

“You should rest,” Xavier added, gently now. “Your body’s still catching up.”

He turned to go.

But before the door could fully open, he paused—just like Zayne had.

One hand braced lightly on the wall panel, his back to me.

“Whatever brought you here,” he said without looking back, “it wasn’t a mistake.”

Then he stepped into the darkened hall and disappeared.

Leaving me alone again.

But somehow...

Less alone than before.

The door clicked shut behind Xavier, the soft sound swallowed by the gentle hush of artificial night.

I stared at the closed frame for a moment longer, the echo of his words still whispering across my ribs.

“Whatever brought you here… it wasn’t a mistake.”

I didn’t believe him.

But I wanted to.

My body finally began to unclench, exhaustion creeping into the spaces grief had hollowed out. My muscles ached with the weight of too much stillness, and my bones felt like they had been carrying secrets too long.

I turned slowly, letting the blanket fall loose around my shoulders, and eased down into the medbed.

The pillow was cool. The mattress adjusted automatically beneath me—Akso’s tech responding to my vitals without needing a word. I could feel the subtle shift of pressure support as it mapped my posture.

It should’ve felt intrusive.

It didn’t.

It felt… like surrender.

And I was too tired to keep fighting the pull.

So I let it take me.

Let the silence fold over me like a tide.

And finally—

I slept.

Then, a flicker.

Darkness, then light.

I was standing in a corridor—not sleek and white like Akso, but darker. Shadowed. Familiar.

I knew this place.

I knew this scene .

A Dawnbreaker dream?

His private dream event—when he finally let you see the cracks beneath the ice? Was that what this was?

The hallway stretched endlessly ahead. Flickering monitors displayed fading vitals. Alarms blinked in red but didn’t sound.

My feet moved without command, the way they always had when this moment played in the game at least.

Except this time, my skin prickled with the static of memory and proximity.

The world wasn’t pixelated. It was real .

I turned a corner—and there he was.

Zayne .

Backlit by the cold blue glow of the trauma center’s failing lights. Standing alone over a motionless body on a gurney. Shoulders tight. Head bowed. His hands—bloody, trembling—pressed to a chest that had already stilled.

He didn’t speak.

He just stood there.

Until I stepped forward.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. My presence in the dream should’ve triggered the next sequence, the gentle fade-out, the player reaching for him, his reluctant vulnerability surfacing in broken phrases.

But now—

He looked up.

And his eyes locked onto mine.

The green-hazel of them shimmered like storm-lit glass, raw with grief and disbelief.

He saw me.

Not the dream avatar.

Not the in-game protagonist.

Me.

And that—

That was when the panic gripped me.

I stumbled back.

“No—no, this isn’t right. You’re not supposed to—”

But Zayne stepped forward, the dream world warping subtly around his movement like the laws that bound it no longer applied.

“You don’t belong here,” he said softly.

I froze.

His tone wasn’t cold. Not angry. Just… devastated.

“You don’t belong in my mind.”

The world began to fracture—corridors splitting, flickering, lights going out one by one.

My chest tightened.

I tried to scream—

And jolted awake.

I gasped, hand flying to my chest as the ceiling lights gently adjusted to my waking state.

My heart pounded.

The vitals monitor chirped softly, detecting the spike.

I sat upright, breath shallow, sweat dampening my collar.

It was just a dream.

A memory.

An echo.

But Zayne saw me.

And for one horrifying, exhilarating second...

I think I saw him see the truth.

I stayed frozen, hunched forward, chest heaving with each breath.

The memory of the dream clung to me like smoke—fading at the edges, but the scent of it, the feel of it, still burned in my lungs.

Zayne’s eyes, the way they met mine. Not in game-coded sympathy. Not in some curated intimacy moment.

Real.

Present.

And that line— You don’t belong in my mind —it hadn’t been part of the original sequence. I’d played it enough times to know every variation. That wasn’t one of them.

I dragged a shaky hand down my face, trying to blink away the haze of sleep and sweat.

My pulse was still too fast.

The monitor chirped again—concerned, but not urgent.

I rubbed at my sternum, fingers brushing against the bone like I could dislodge whatever it was that had rooted itself in there.

It was just a dream.It wasn’t real.

But it hadn’t felt like the other dreams. Not like the vague surrealism of regular exhaustion. This had structure. Sequence. Code . Like my brain hadn’t built it… like it had been accessed .

I turned my head toward the soft glow of the window.

The garden outside was dim now, the false stars beginning to dim with the shift in cycle. The sky had turned that deep silver-lavender hue, the one that always made my heart ache—like the world was holding its breath just before dawn.

The kind of quiet that usually meant I’m alone.

Except this time…

I wasn’t.

My eyes drifted sideways—slow, reluctant.

And landed on a shape slouched in the chair beside my bed.

Tall. Limbs long and precise even in rest. Head tilted slightly forward, the sharp fringe of ink-dark hair softening where it fell into his eyes.

Zayne.

Asleep.

My throat clenched.

He hadn’t left.

Sometime after he’d told me pain didn’t make me broken, sometime after the silence, after Xavier’s return, after the dream—

He’d come back.

Or maybe… he’d never left at all.

His coat was rumpled slightly, bunched under one shoulder like he’d curled into himself, guarding something invisible. One hand hung loosely off the armrest, fingers twitching faintly with whatever dream had claimed him.

He looked tired.

Not just physically.

Worn.

Like someone who knew the weight of silence too intimately to ever put it down.

The sight of him like that—unguarded, here, beside me —sent a wave of heat crashing through my chest. Not romantic. Not even longing.

Just confusion .

Why?

Why would he stay?

Why would someone like him—Zayne Li, the unrelenting, unreachable surgeon of Akso—waste a second of his time sitting in a room with someone like me ?

But there he was.

And something in me broke a little more.

Something quiet.

Something soft.

I didn’t move for a long time.

Just sat there, half-folded in the sheets, eyes fixed on the impossible sight of Zayne— Zayne Li —asleep beside me.

His posture had surrendered to exhaustion, shoulders relaxed, head dipped forward slightly like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep but had simply run out of resistance. There was no tension in his jaw now. No constant calculation behind his eyelids. Just silence.

And breath.

Measured. Steady.

Like he trusted the room enough to rest in it.

I felt my chest tighten again, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something gentler. Something that hurt differently.

I watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

The way the light shifted against the collar of his shirt—

And that’s when I noticed what he was wearing .

Not scrubs. Not his lab coat.

But the outfit I knew too well.

Cream vest. Perfectly tailored, fitted snug against the clean lines of his frame. Matching trousers with the faintest shine to the fabric, smooth and precise. A crisp white button-up beneath, sleeves rolled to the elbow, two thin black belts circling each bicep—tight, symmetrical.

And the tie.

Black-silver plaid, knotted neatly, perfectly centered.

His shoes—black, polished, classic dress cut—were crossed at the ankle, heel tapping the leg of the chair with a rhythm even sleep couldn’t stop.

It was him .

Exactly as I’d seen him in the game’s gallery for hours—calm, composed, always a little unreachable. Too perfect for the mess of someone like me.

And now…

He was here.

Sleeping next to my broken pieces like they didn’t scare him away.

I blinked hard and looked away. Swallowed the knot crawling up my throat.

Then, slowly, I shifted. The medbed hummed softly beneath me, adjusting as I leaned forward and reached for the folded blanket at my side. I hesitated for just a second, fingers tightening around the edge.

He hadn’t asked to stay.

He hadn’t expected comfort.

But I couldn’t not do this.

I unfolded the blanket gently, quietly stepped from the bed, and leaned over him with breath held tight in my chest.

His brow furrowed slightly, just for a moment, as I laid the blanket over his chest. He stirred—but didn’t wake. Just shifted minutely, as though accepting something without even realizing it.

He looked… softer under it.

More human.

More tired.

More real than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.

I stood there for another moment, frozen in place.

I wanted to touch him.

Just his hand.

Just to see if he’d wake, if he’d say something.

If I mattered in this moment even half as much as he clearly did.

But I didn’t.

I just returned to my bed.

And watched him sleep.

Back under the blanket, I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my cheek against the curve of my shoulder. The room had gone still again, the dim starlight outside barely glinting off the corner of Zayne’s polished shoes. He hadn’t stirred since I laid the blanket over him.

He looked peaceful.

Like he hadn’t spent the past day dissecting my pain with terrifying accuracy.

Like he hadn’t seen something in me I still refused to see myself.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, suddenly overwhelmed by the silence. Not because it was oppressive—but because of what it made space for.

Thoughts.

Memories.

Worse— fantasies .

My brain, traitorous as ever, offered me a vision.

A different version of this same room.

Zayne leaning over me—not sleeping, but smiling. One of those rare, barely-there smiles that the game made you earn . Not through missions. Not through battles. But through patience . Through choosing him every time.

Through love .

I pictured him brushing hair from my face, fingertips soft with reverence. His voice low, warm with quiet affection as he said my name—not clinically, not like a patient on a chart.

Like it meant something.

Like I meant something.

“You make the noise stop,” he’d say in the fantasy, eyes full of emotion he rarely allowed to surface.

“You make me want to stay.”

God.

I used to let myself believe that could be real. That if I just played enough, chose enough of the “right” answers, tapped through every story event, he might say those things and mean them for me .

Not some protagonist stand-in.

Not the blank-slate heroine coded into the game.

Me.

Aven.

Too soft. Too tired. Too broken in ways no one ever bothered to understand.

But in those digital dreams, he did.

Zayne Li—efficient, controlled, endlessly composed—loved me.

Not despite the mess, but through it.

Because of it.

And I—

I loved him like I was dying.

Because I had been.

And the game was the only place where I didn’t have to.

Now he was here.

Real.

Close enough to touch.

Breathing the same air.

And I was drowning in the ache of it. In the cruel beauty of proximity. In the knowledge that I could never tell him. Could never let the words slip through the cracks of my trembling teeth.

Because I wasn’t her .

And he wasn’t mine .

I blinked hard against the tears starting to burn again.

Then turned toward the window, letting the silver light paint over my face like moonlight from a world I’d never get back to.

Behind me, Zayne shifted slightly in his chair, breath catching in his throat just once.

But he didn’t wake.

And I didn’t dream again.

The sky outside shifted from silver-lavender to the palest gold.

It wasn't a real sunrise, not really—the hospital’s environmental panels only mimicked natural light—but the soft hue still made something in my chest ache. Like watching the world remember how to breathe after holding its breath all night.

The trees in the Observation Garden shimmered faintly beneath the shifting dome. Leaves catching false light. Petals opening, though no sun touched them.

I hadn’t moved.

Sleep had crept to the edge of my mind more than once, but never settled. My body remained still under the blanket, my cheek resting against my knees as I stared out the glass—half-conscious of the quiet rise and fall of Zayne’s breathing behind me.

It was easier not to look at him.

Easier to pretend he was just a phantom in the corner of my vision. Easier to pretend I hadn’t imagined what it might feel like if he ever chose me—really chose me—and meant it.

A low chime broke the silence.

Zayne’s phone.

Not a harsh alarm. Not a clinical pager.

Just a gentle tone—soft, synthetic—signaling the start of a shift.

His breathing hitched slightly.

Then, movement.

The creak of fabric. A slow exhale. The brush of his coat sleeve against the armrest as he straightened in the chair.

I didn’t turn.

I didn’t speak.

But I could feel him sit up—feel the subtle change in the air as his presence came into focus again. Like something magnetic shifting closer.

He didn’t say anything at first.

The silence between us pressed gently, filled with everything neither of us had the language to express.

Finally, his voice—quiet, rough-edged from sleep.

“You didn’t sleep.”

It wasn’t a question.

I still didn’t turn. Just nodded slightly, eyes on the false sunrise, letting the soft light blur the sting behind my lashes.

“I tried,” I said, voice faint. “Didn’t stick.”

A pause.

“I saw you dream,” he murmured. “You flinched in your sleep.”

I stiffened.

Of course he’d noticed. Zayne saw things. Always had. He was trained to read subtle shifts in vitals, eye dilation, micro-movements. My mind had betrayed me even in rest.

“It was just… noise,” I lied, curling tighter. “Leftovers.”

He didn’t argue. But I heard the rustle of him standing.

His footsteps were slow as he moved closer. Just one step.

Then another.

Then stillness again.

I didn’t look up.

I couldn’t.

Because if I did—I might see warmth where I wasn’t allowed to hope for it.

And I wasn’t ready for that.

“I’m on rotation soon,” he said, the words a whisper in the new morning air.

I nodded again. “You should go.”

“I will.”

But he didn’t move.

Not right away.

And when I finally did glance toward him—just slightly—he was watching me the same way he had when we first met.

Not like I was a problem to solve.

Not like I was broken.

But like I was unfinished .

Like maybe he wanted to know what came next.

Zayne stood quietly beside the bed.

No clipboard. No scanner. No mask of professional distance.

Just him.

Eyes faintly rimmed with sleep, shirt a little wrinkled from the chair, his expression unreadable—but not cold. Never cold.

He watched me like he was memorizing something. Like he didn’t know why he wanted to remember it—only that he needed to.

I kept my gaze low, toward the shifting patterns of light on the blanket in my lap.

He should’ve left already. The morning chime had sounded, and I knew what time it was. Akso operated on precision, and Zayne didn’t make a habit of being late.

But he lingered.

And just before he turned toward the door, his voice came soft. Steady.

“I don’t think you’re here by accident,” he said, like a truth he’d carried through the night.

I swallowed, staring at my hands.

“You don’t know me,” I whispered, not quite meaning for it to come out.

His steps paused at the door.

“No,” he said. “But I don’t have to know you to care that you’re still here.”

The door hissed open. And this time, he walked through it without hesitation.

But the echo of his words stayed behind.

Wrapped around my ribs like something solid enough to hold onto.

The scent of something warm filtered into the room before the knock did.

I sat up straighter, blinking blearily toward the door as it opened with a familiar, friendly chirp.

Yvonne stepped in—smiling gently, a silver tray in her hands and her ever-soft eyes scanning me with the subtle attentiveness of someone who made people feel safe without trying.

“I thought you might like something hot before the rest of the day catches up with you,” she said, moving easily across the room.

The tray landed on the rolling side table with the kind of care only years of experience could make second nature.

She adjusted the angle for me, flicked the lock on the wheels, and stepped back just enough to give me space—but not distance.

I looked down.

Hospital food, sure. But Akso’s version of it was strangely elegant. A ceramic bowl of miso rice porridge. Steamed greens with a drizzle of something light and citrusy. A single, peeled boiled egg. A cup of warm jasmine tea.

It was... comforting.

Surreal.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, voice still a little hoarse.

She smiled wider. “You don’t have to eat it all. Just enough to remind your body it’s still yours.”

That hit harder than it should have.

I picked up the spoon, not because I was hungry, but because her presence made me feel like maybe doing something was better than nothing.

She moved to the window, glancing at the starlit dome fading to soft morning clouds. “Zayne stayed all night,” she said casually, not turning to face me.

I paused mid-spoonful.

She didn’t press. Just let the words hang there in the air.

I set the spoon down, fingers trembling slightly.

“I noticed.”

Yvonne looked back at me, her smile a little softer now. “He doesn’t do that for just anyone.”

I didn’t know how to answer.

Didn’t know how to explain the war happening under my skin, the truth pressed like a bruise between my lungs.

Instead, I wrapped my hands around the cup of jasmine tea, letting the warmth soak into my palms.

And for the first time since I arrived in this world, I didn’t feel like I was collapsing.

Just resting.

Maybe for the first time in years.

I watched Yvonne for a moment longer, steam curling up from the jasmine tea in my hands. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was deliberate—carefully placed, like she was giving me room to speak without actually asking me to.

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

She wasn’t just being kind.

She was being clever .

Zayne had stayed all night. Yvonne had brought me breakfast. She’d already checked my vitals and knew my baseline emotional state. And now, she was circling. Gently.

“You know,” I said quietly, not looking up, “if you’re fishing for details, you’re being way too nice about it.”

Yvonne chuckled softly, not offended. “You don’t survive long in trauma intake without learning how to read a room. Or a patient.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So… not sent by Dr. Li, then?”

She smiled, moving to the foot of the bed. “Zayne didn’t have to say anything. I can see it. You’ve got a thousand-yard stare and no grounding point. You eat like someone who hasn’t tasted food in days, but you don’t let yourself enjoy it. And you haven’t asked once what’s next.”

I swallowed. My tea suddenly felt too heavy in my hands.

“I don’t know what’s next,” I admitted.

“Exactly,” she said gently. “That’s why I brought breakfast. And why I sat down.”

I glanced at her. “To trick me into talking?”

“To let you know you’re safe.”

She didn’t press. Didn’t poke. Just let the conversation linger like mist.

My grip tightened on the tea. “Aven,” I said finally, the name tasting foreign now, even though I’d said it earlier. “Vale. That’s the name I’ve always gone by. I guess it’s still true here.”

Yvonne nodded slowly. “It’s a good name. You wear it like it’s yours.”

“It’s all I have.”

“No. It’s just the first part of what you’ll build here.”

The words startled something in me. Hope maybe. Or fear of it.

She stood, brushing invisible lint from her uniform. “I’ll let you finish. No rush. Just call if you need anything.”

I watched her retreat toward the door.

And even though she hadn’t gotten any of the answers she might’ve wanted, she left me feeling like I’d said something important anyway.

Like my name was enough. For now.

The door clicked softly.

I didn’t flinch, but my gaze cut to it instinctively. Xavier stepped through, shoulders relaxed but eyes sharp, like always. He moved with that measured stillness, as if the world could shift without warning and he’d still be steady.

In his hands was a bouquet.

Wrapped in eco-printed paper, the flowers were subtle—elegant. Cool-toned calla lilies, cream-tipped hellebores, silver asters, and soft violet eustomas nestled among feathered ferns. Beautiful. Understated. Arranged with intention.

From Philo .

The logo was unmistakable, even without the name printed on the wrappings. I knew that shop. Everyone who played the game knew it—Jeremiah’s little haven in District A-3, tucked between two residential towers, run with quiet pride and aching grief. It had been Xavier’s soft place in the lore. A flower shop he visited more often than he admitted, under the guise of checking on an old friend. But in truth… it was because something there made him feel grounded. Alive.

The bouquet shouldn’t have surprised me.

But it did.

Xavier paused at the foot of the bed, as if waiting for my reaction before he spoke. He didn’t offer them with a flourish. He just held them out gently, his gaze fixed not on me, but on the arrangement.

“For your room,” he said. “From my friend, Jeremiah. He insisted.”

Of course he did.

I reached out and took the bouquet, fingers brushing the paper. They were cold from the ceramic mug still in my hands. I didn’t look up.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, setting the flowers gently beside the tea.

But my mind—it reeled. Twisted around the gift like it was a riddle I hadn’t been taught how to solve.

Was this pity? A gesture of sympathy for the broken girl in the sterile room?

Or something else?

I didn’t know how to take it. Kindness and I didn’t have a stable history. I’d been trained to see it as bait or bandage. Temporary. Strategic. Rarely genuine.

So I swallowed hard and forced myself to say what people say when handed something fragile and undeserved.

“Thank you.”

Xavier finally looked at me. His eyes didn’t scan for injuries this time. They searched for something deeper. Something frayed and barely holding together.

“You looked like you could use something alive,” he said, quieter now.

I don’t feel alive, I thought. But I didn’t say it.

Instead, I looked down at the flowers again, at their impossible delicacy.

“They’ll probably wilt,” I said. “I’m not great at keeping things alive.”

“Then don’t worry about keeping them,” he said. “Just let them be.”

The way he said it—like it meant more than flowers.

Like I was the thing he was talking about.

Xavier sat.

Not across the room. Not stiffly in the corner like a chaperone. But just across from me, in the same chair Zayne had occupied earlier that morning, legs relaxed, hands resting loosely on his thighs.

He didn’t speak at first. Just let the quiet stretch comfortably between us.

“I didn’t expect flowers,” I said finally, glancing at the bouquet again. “Doesn’t seem like your MO.”

His mouth curved in the faintest ghost of a smile. “It’s not. Jeremiah insisted.”

“But you didn’t say no.”

“I didn’t want to.”

That answer landed harder than I expected. No pity. No dramatics. Just a choice. One he made without obligation.

“You always this kind to strays?” I asked, the edge of sarcasm dull but present.

“I don’t collect people,” Xavier said. “But sometimes... you find someone worth not walking past.”

I looked away. My fingers tugged at the sleeve hem of the hospital-issue top I’d been given. My throat tightened with the sudden urge to tell him everything— who I really was, why I knew what I knew —but the thought of his expression cracking with disbelief, or worse, betrayal, shut the words down before they could form.

So I offered nothing.

And he didn’t press.

Instead, his gaze drifted to the bouquet again. “Those mean resilience,” he said, nodding at the hellebores. “At least, that’s what Jeremiah always says.”

“Seems like a lie,” I muttered.

“Then it’s a beautiful one.”

A beat passed.

“Do you believe in that?” I asked, softer. “In symbols having meaning?”

Xavier turned his head slowly to look at me. “I believe the meaning comes from how we carry it. Not from the thing itself.”

I didn’t have a reply for that. I didn’t think I ever would.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the door chimed again.

I tensed. Xavier didn’t move—just flicked his gaze toward the entrance.

The door slid open.

Zayne.

His dark hair was slightly wind-tossed like he’d walked quickly, his white coat folded over one arm, revealing the soft lines of his cream vest and black-plaid tie again. His expression was composed, but there was something in the flicker of his eyes as they found me—something unreadable and lingering.

And in his hands?

A box.

Long, rectangular, sleek matte packaging with delicate silver foil etching.

Macarons.

The kind from Bliss Petal, the café on Blossom Crescent in Sector A-1. Limited editions. Popular in the fandom because he’d once been spotted there in the game—briefly—in an idle cutscene. Players used to joke he kept them in his drawer as stress relief snacks. It was a running joke that he only bought the lavender-honey ones.

In his other hand?

A bouquet.

Smaller than the one from Xavier, but equally striking. Pale lilac ranunculus with silver-tipped ivy and white hyacinths wrapped in a sheer violet silk paper. Cool, calm, precise. A gift that looked chosen—not grabbed in passing.

I blinked, stunned into silence.

He stepped closer, placing the macarons on the table beside the flowers Xavier had brought, and set the second bouquet carefully in the corner of the tray table.

Then, without fanfare, he looked at me.

“I took a break,” he said.

I blinked again. “You… took a break ?”

“I’m allowed,” he said, the barest note of dryness to his tone.

Xavier stood slowly. “He never takes breaks,” he said to me, almost like an aside. “Unless forced.”

Zayne didn’t acknowledge it, only took the empty chair Xavier had vacated and regarded me with his usual cool intensity. But his next words carried weight.

“I wanted to check on you.”

Just that.

I didn’t know what to do with any of it.

Two of the men I’d spent months learning, loving—virtually—were here . Real. Bringing gifts. Speaking kindly. Sitting across from me like I was something worth coming back to.

And I didn’t believe a single bit of it.

“I don’t deserve this,” I said without meaning to, the words slipping out like a leak in a sinking ship.

Zayne tilted his head slightly. “Who told you that you didn’t?”

“Everyone,” I said softly. “Eventually.”

The room went quiet.

Then Zayne looked at the box he’d brought. Opened it. Nudged it forward.

“They’re just macarons, Aven. Not a test. Not a reward. Just… something sweet.”

My throat locked up, but I reached for the box anyway. My fingers brushed the edge of the packaging.

“Lavender-honey?” I asked quietly, not looking at him.

A pause.

“…Yeah,” Zayne said.

My heart did something painful. Something unbearably hopeful.

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

[ascrewupromantic]

idk what it is about sukuna in fics like these but i love him and no one can take him from me 🫶 such a guilty pleasure fr

slim pickins

they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?

pairings: toxic!Satosugu x roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader

content: MDNI, angst and smut, roommate AU, heavy yearning and pining, satosugu are dicks not gonna lie, reader isn't taking it though, extremely messy relationship dynamics, emotional hurt, reader standing up for herself, semi-public car sex, protected piv sex, oral (m! + f! receiving), threesome, consensual recording/sending, multiple positions and povs

a/n: this was very much inspired by beat your heart to death by the immensely incredibly talented @specialgradefckr !! divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !! also I'm blaming how much Sabrina Carpenter I've been listening to on @tsukuhoe bc her short n' sweet smau stays living in my head rent-free lol

good graces

bed chem

busy woman

teeny tiny sneak peak ahead, pls comment to be added to tags <3 first part will be up tomorrow (this was originally supposed to be a oneshot but it ended up way too long for that so I decided to split it up)

You'd seen the ending from the beginning.

They might've sucked you in, but you never fought back. Just stood still and let the quicksand take you until you landed here, sharing the middle bedroom in what some (yourself, included) would consider an unconventional living arrangement. Unstable would probably work too.

You were fucking Satoru, who was probably fucking Suguru, who was also fucking you.

If you didn't move out soon, the single thread holding the tightrope you were barely balancing on was going to snap, and you didn't think any of you would be able to pick up the pieces of whatever was left - as roommates, friends, lovers, or just strangers.

It'd been over from the first day you moved in. Really, the moment you'd met.

Satoru had been all smiles, so eager it was almost ridiculous how funny and charming you found him, his hand sliding over yours and squeezing like he'd known you forever instead of five minutes. He tutored you in your second to last year of college, forged a flirty friendship of sorts, waiting until you were clearly choking on your huge crush on him to introduce you to Suguru. You'd never been able to tell if he was his friend or boyfriend, but it didn't really matter, did it? Because even now, after the past four years, all the time you'd spent trying to carve yourself a place in their lives and living with them, it never made a difference.

There was them, and then there was you.

Their shared laughter and secret smiles, the tender touches and the way their eyes landed on each other from across the room - the subtle looks they exchanged like they were the only people who actually understood each other, you'd have to be stupid to miss any of it. Which, you guessed they thought you were considering the fact they both always waited until the other one was busy or had plans to bend you over the counter or pull your panties off on top of the washing machine and fuck you like you were the roommate they wanted.

"Suguru's gonna be home soon," You tried to warn him, but everything came out muffled, breathless, your face pressed against the soft mattress in Satoru's room, his hips smacking loudly against your ass. He hadn't even waited for you to finish brushing your teeth this morning to burst into the bathroom to whisk you away, throwing you on his bed and splaying you out like he'd been waiting all week for this.

And yeah, you did feel stupid for the faint flicker of hope that maybe he wanted this half as much as you did.

[ascrewupromantic]

wait i’m actually obsessed

devoured villain!sukuna x isekai'd!reader

synopsis: stuck and fucked in an otome game, you're sick of the same men replaying the same story. so who better to break free with than the big bad guy?

content: mdni - angst and smut and fluff, isekai au, also features smut with Choso, Geto, Gojo, and Nanami, unprotected piv sex, sex toys mentioned, reader is a lil bratty, sukuna is sassy as always

You never would've guessed sex could get boring.

But you supposed when all you had to do every day was decide between cliché dialogue you could recite in your sleep and getting your brains fucked out, you'd still choose the latter.

Choso grabbed your hair, not hard, but tugging just enough to drag your attention back to him instead of outside the window. "Look at me."

You yawned instead, sighing as you peeled yourself off of him, cum leaking down your thighs from your first round, using his discarded shirt to clean yourself up before tossing it back at him. His face scrunched up, the tattoo across his nose wrinkling as he huffed, cock still tinged red and throbbing at your absence.

"Sorry," You shrugged. "I'm not really feeling it today."

You were on day 884 of being stuck in a stupid otome game you'd fallen asleep playing. Playing your assigned role as the nameless main character that everyone seemed to love for no goddamn reason. You were on loop thirty. Stuck living the same month, all your decisions, all your choices resetting the second you reached an ending.

There wasn't much you hadn't tried, just short of murder. Although, any attempts you'd made to hurt the love interests usually just ended with you being the one tied up and fucked into submission.

Any deviation just put you on a different romance route or lead you back to an ending you'd already received.

There were only four male leads.

Who, by now, you'd already fucked or been fucked by countless times in countless positions. The first loop was fun. The second a little less so. By the sixth?

You realized you might be stuck doing this forever.

Nothing ever changed.

You'd played the game in real life maybe a dozen times, so it wasn't even like anything here was even a shock to you.

You'd unlocked the secret harem ending. Suffered through the bad ones just in case breaking out was a completionist thing. But nope.

Day thirty would pass and the clock would reset, waking back up in the same silk sheets you had the first day.

You wanted to wallow in bed? Choso, the childhood best friend, would come pick you up and insist on taking you to work. You wanted to slack off and sleep at your desk? Nanami, the overbearing boss, would shake you awake and give you his coffee. You wanted to just walk home and avoid both of them? Gojo, the pretty playboy model, would show up and let you use his umbrella when it suddenly starts raining.

You still didn't know what triggered Geto showing up.

He showed up when you didn't expect it, in the street or on the bus or in a bakery. It was the only bit of variation you got, although his route would proceed mostly the same from your first meeting. He'd ask for your number and take you on dates where he'd fuck you until you couldn't walk wherever you went.

You still had to sleep. Still needed to eat. But you never got sick, never felt any aches or pains. Just in a body that wasn't yours, a face you didn't recognize in the mirror.

The game's only friction came in the form of an unseen villain plotting to destroy the company you worked for - and you as collateral. Some first step of a grand plan to have a monopoly on whatever it was your company was supposed to sell.

Which was stupid, really, who the fuck cares about that sort of stuff in a game designed for mindless pleasure?

It was absurdly easy to beat him too, just collecting a few pieces of evidence with the male lead of your choosing and turning it into the police.

You guessed the devs had just been too rushed to get the game out they never coded the big bad villain in.

You were wrong.

Leaving Choso behind to head back to the office, groaning as you realized today was the day the bus would break down and you'd bump into Geto again, which always lead to getting a vibrator slipped up your skirt while he accompanied you on your search for a clue you'd find in two seconds flat since you'd already found it so many times before, just a simple scrap of paper the mole in the office leaking information had forgotten the day before.

So you skipped the bus.

Kept your head down and hurried down the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement until you approached the neat brick exterior and snuck around to the side entrance. It was supposed to be a Saturday, an in-universe excuse for you to get bent over some desk on your scavenger hunt.

But without Geto or the other NPCs to keep you company, the beige walls and empty desks were distinctly creepy. It was missing all the little details, no personal photos or coats thrown over the back of chairs, everything pristine and perfectly kept. Reminding you this wasn't a real workplace. None of them were real. Just blank canvases that were contorted and twisted to fit the narrative and trap you in its flow.

That's why you were here anyway, wasn't it? Just to conform to the story in order to progress from event to event?

But you could leave without the clue.

Just walk away and leave the envelope with the villain's name and phone number inside the desk hiding it.

Did you though?

No, you did something far stupider.

You called him.

Sukuna answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

Huh. You blinked back surprise. You hadn't expected him to even have a voice, let alone one so gruff and gravelly.

"Hi," You answered, feeling half as idiotic as you really were.

"Who's this?" He grunted, absolutely unamused.

Not instantly falling for you. Not flirting. Not professing that he'll love you forever after like two seconds of talking.

"Just a girl who knows about your secret plans for world domination," You teased, curious what kind of reaction you could get from this new toy. How the game would retaliate against your constant defiance of the plot in place.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" He growled, his voice a low roar in your ear. But for the first time, your blood felt like it was actually pumping, pulse pounding as you twirled a strand of hair around your finger.

"A little, yeah," You almost giggled.

"I'm hanging up," Sukuna bluntly said, and a brief flash of panic shot through you.

"Wait,-"

"What?" He snapped.

"I wasn't joking. I have evidence that you've been conspiring against the company I work for," You abruptly admitted, uncomfortable and entirely unused to dealing with someone who didn't want you.

"Is that a threat, brat?" He hissed, grinding his teeth. You wanted to see it though. Watch him flash his canines at you and scowl like you were scum instead of being heralded as some doll that could do no wrong.

"I'll give it to you if you meet with me," You offered, breath hitching in your throat at the thought of something new finally happening.

"You must be dumber than I thought if you think I'll fall for a trap like that," Sukina scoffed.

"You pick the place then," You huffed back. "I'll come by myself and bring everything I have."

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I hate my boss," You shrugged, hoping he'd buy it. You didn't really hate any of the guys. It wasn't their fault they had fallen for you or that you'd found yourself here. You'd given up on getting out a long time ago. But you just wanted the tiniest tastes of freedom to free yourself from the growing confines of being trapped living the same thirty days all over again. And you couldn't ignore the chance to try out a new path.

"You're an idiot," He commented, and you agreed. But you couldn't die in here, and this body didn't really feel pain the same way your real one did, so why not risk it?

"Is that a yes?" You hopefully asked.

"Tomorrow night, ten o'clock, back door of the bar on Sixth Street," He grunted.

"I'll see you then," You flirted casually, like you were planning a date and not blackmail.

"Whatever."

He hung up first.

The faintest flicker of hope had bloomed in your chest. Something had changed. That alone was an achievement in itself these days.

Perhaps you'd just found a second secret ending.

a/n: think I'm gonna turn this into a sukuna-centric mini-series unless this flops lol but for now this is still part of xxx files

[ascrewupromantic]

THE FLEABAG REFERENCE IS KILLING ME 😭

SNOWCROW UNI AU DUMP!!

all of these are reposts from my twitter, and some never seen before doodles :p ive got so many brain rot for this au but i dont have the time to draw them with me being a uni student myself, so i'll use this as an outlet to yap

ofc yes snowcrow are roomies duhhhh. the other boys are included as well but its primarily focused on snowcrow. both of them are nerds, sy just doesnt fit in the stereotype appearance wise. he also rarely leaves his room (bc hes in IT) so hes mostly wearing nothing but his optimus prime boxers. zayne has 5 outfits maximum and repeats the same ones depending on the day, and its either a collared button up shirt or a hoodie. all his pants are identical except for one pair of jeans he wears for special occasions aka going to the mall

in this au, zayne's autism shines more. he's more clumsy and awkward and doesnt get social cue. naive at some times, ESPECIALLY when it comes to ppl tryna hit on him. sy is less macho suave here, chillaxed in a teen core way and an idrgaf attitude. much more of a loser too. and more immature (in comparison to his canon self)

their dorm room: a disaster. its a 2 pax room so both their beds are singles across from each other. only two weeks into the semester sy's space is already full of his stuff to the point he cant even sleep on his bed. robot stuff from his club, personal collection of trinkets and other stuff he COULD throw out but doesnt want to bc he's a hoarder. so now he either sleeps on the floor or on zayne's bed. usually on zayne's bed when he's out for class during day time since his own classes are at night. zayne didnt mind but it meant sy owes him so sy buys him a lot of stuff especially sweet treats and mixue. he also has to drive him everywhere on his motorcycle. "i wanna go to that dessert shop" "you mean the one thats deep in the city full of traffic and hidden in between the alleyways where u have to go through the 7 layers of hell for parking?" "yes" "..................kay."

pets!! sy had mephisto even before entering uni. then later adopted a bearded dragon named bartholomew, mew or bartie for short. zayne took in a stray black cat from the streets. cats rarely like him so when this one didnt run away, immediate adoption. claudius galenus is his name after a greek philosopher, galen for short. obv sy made fun of his name choices, but then again he named a bird after the devil and a reptile "bartholomew". theyre both idiots. sy also enjoys finding random geckos or lizards, and frogs, and snakes. he'd probably own a scarab too. but zayne never allowed those bc galen is a gluttonous hell spawn and eats everything. at one point he started chewing on sy's mattress. no, pets are not allowed in dorms. they got off with a warning the first time. so every time theres even a hint of a spontaneous dorm check, sy asks his mom to babysit their kids. his mom being the sweetheart she is helped them out, though she wondered if her son will ever grow up and be at least acceptable in a professional setting bc she cant imagine him having a corporate career with the way he is now.

money. zayne has a scholarship and during their dorm year, it was easy to live on. he didnt have many assignments that needed money to be spent on, and he was never the shopping type, for clothes or other stuff he cant eat anyways. but ever since they moved out to rent an apartment, money got tighter. sure both his parents are doctors and has no problem giving him extra pocket money, but he prefers to not burden them. so he now he part times at a vet as the clerk! easy click clacking on the monitor job and he gets to meet cute animals. sylus doesnt have a scholar but he's applying for one. in the meantime he gets his money from a website he runs. what website? no one knows. is it legal? most likely no. zayne assumed the site is just an illegal movie streaming platform with how sylus always invites him to watch a new movie on his laptop seconds after its release. but he could be running more than one.

neither of them have that of an exciting social life. theyre either nerding out in their room, or taking a mindless stroll to reconnect with nature. sylus collecting rocks and yapping about the history (or drama) of the british royal family and explaining how the monarchy works, zayne identifying different types of clouds and pulling out candy from his pockets every 10 minutes (they never seem to run out). though at one point, sylus knew how important this stage of their life is. theyre not gonna be young forever and they needed friends, people to socialize with and make connections, mingle with people their age. zayne didnt mind having sy as his only friend, but he did think it would be nice to have a small clique. also the networking thing is important too. so whenever theres an event or festival, they'd always go out with intentions to meet people. it was NOT easy. 1. they dont know how to start a conversation without being too pushy or awkward. 2. they both have resting bitch faces and above 6 ft which makes them seem intimidating. 3. even if they did manage to chat with someone, they would quickly realize how different they were from them. most people who join these social events have **been** social, already in big group of friends that go out partying, clubbing, drinking yadda yadda. not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just a very unfamiliar territory for these two nerds who rarely (or during this point, never) let themselves touch alcohol, couped up in their room with a pigeon, a lizard and whatever the hell galen is, watching pirated movies while wearing matching rocky and bullwinkle socks. so after every attempt at making friends, they'd always walk back to their dorm, just the two of them.

are they dating? no. not yet at least. but do they like each other romantically? maybe. i can vouch for sy tho. the first time he saw zayne he was already smitten by how handsome he was. handsome, but not well put together. baggy clothes, his glasses were slightly crooked, looks like he doesnt know what hair gel is. he didnt know if he was even attracted to men, he did know zayne was the most interesting person he's ever met so far. he brushed it off, thinking its just simple admiration. even if it was a crush, it wasnt a big deal. tho as their friendship grew, he got bolder, casually flirting with him from time to time, just because. zayne being the dumbass he is caught none of it. if sy ever reached out to hold his hand, he's like "oh yeah cool bestie activities" or if he gives a quick peck on the cheek before leaving for class "he must be in a good mood haha" or if he stares longingly while zayne yaps about the history of styrofoams, scooching closer, leaning a bit too close, trying to memorize every detail of zayne's face as if he recognized him from a different life, one where theyre both soul bound, sharing the same last name, melting into each other every night "oh wow he's a really good listener".

yk maybe they are dating. zayne just didnt know about it until it was too late.

that's all i have for now!! sem break is right around the corner so i'll expand this au then :)) pray for me final assessment is biting me in the ass im an animation student and i regret everything