#and so his gaze changed without him noticing

[vxnillabxn]

Can I request headcanons for all 5 lads men reacting to his female s/o accidentally walk on him topless while changing clothes and immediately covered her eyes while apologising profusely please?

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x fem!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ a tiny bit suggestive, fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚main five! reacting to fem!reader walking in while they're shirtless. (note: this could also count as gn!reader, as no fem pronouns nor descriptions were used!)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

he was changing in your shared bedroom, taking off his hoodie before his t-shirt lifted up too.

you happened to barge in casually, as you always did. you were holding an applesauce jar, struggling enough to seek his assistance.

“hey leb, would you—”

you looked up.

you froze.

there he stood, folding his t-shirt while glancing at you, giving you the attention you needed, casually, like it was no big deal. his whole chest was on display, —not for you, initially— along with his strong arms, his abdomen, and…

nope!

in a panic, you threw the jar towards the bed and turned around, eyes covered, face heated up. you blurted out thousands of apologies like a broken machine, over and over again.

“sorry! oh crap, truly, i am so sorry! i didn't—”

all you heard in response was a soft chuckle.

then, footsteps getting closer.

and closer.

until a pair of bare arms wrapped around you from behind.

“what are you hidin’ from, pips?”

he whispered close to your ear, pressing a kiss to the top of your head right after.

“there's nothin’ you haven't seen before. do you like my body that much to get like this, hm?”

he gently pried your hands away from your face and spun you around.

there was a smirk on his lips. he was enjoying this way too much for your liking.

and you knew he wouldn't let this go. not today, not tomorrow, never.

because for the rest of the day, even when handing you something or washing the dishes after dinner, he'd laugh and say:

“easy. don't want you gettin’ flustered just ‘cause i rolled my sleeves up, baby.”

smug dummy.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

you two came back home after one of his art exhibitions. you went to the bathroom to undress and freshen up a bit before bed, while rafayel stayed in your shared bedroom.

you found paint stains on your arm; probably because he decided it was a good idea to add some last-minute touch-ups to his paintings… while also clinging to your arm the entire night.

you walked toward the bedroom, a playful smile on your lips.

“hey raf! if i sold my arm with your paint on it, how much do you think—”

your face heated up instantly, and you slapped your hands over your eyes.

you didn't even register exactly what you saw, but you just knew he was changing.

“why would you sell your arm, my pearl?”

he asked, not noticing your panic at first, since his back was still to you. but when he turned around, and saw your flustered state…

he smirked.

very, very amused.

without a word, he stepped toward you and swiftly lifted you up.

you squealed, clinging to his shoulders for balance, which, of course, meant uncovering your eyes.

“raf—! wait, i'm sorry! i didn't mean to walk in—”

“why are you covering your eyes, cutie? i'm a sight for sore eyes. a masterpiece, if you will.”

he spun you around dramatically before sitting you on the bed, stepping between your legs with that signature glint in his gaze.

“rafayel…”

your eyes were still wide, and his were darker now, tinged with red. dangerous glint. mischief level: critical.

bad sign. abort mission!

“consider this a dynamic exhibition, just for you,” he whispered, taking your hands in his.

then, slowly, he guided your trembling hands to his bare torso.

“feel free to… touch the art, cutie.”

crap.

he was going to kill you one day. but you were not wasting this opportunity.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

it was late. almost 2 a.m.

you'd just woken up after the warm figure beside you left the bed. you stirred and rubbed your eyes, hearing footsteps outside the room. of course, you knew sylus was up; he always started his day pretty late.

you decided to follow. sleepy, groggy, still a bit tired.

your bare feet padded against the cold floor as you trailed after him. your hair was messy, your eyes mostly closed, but you already knew the path by heart, so you navigated it easily, even half-asleep.

he entered the bathroom, and a few seconds later, you followed on instinct.

by now, he knew you were behind him, but he found it endearing.

he started to undress, and it didn't register in your half-functioning brain until his shirt dropped at your feet. you looked down. then up.

you squealed.

“gosh! wait, i'm sorry!”

you were 100% awake now, eyes wide as you turned around to flee the bathroom.

his naked torso was now engraved in your brain. his slightly tanned skin, his defined muscles, his strong, inviting arms… it physically hurt to walk away, but you had to!

…or not.

he grabbed your wrist gently, of course.

you still covered your face with your free hand.

when he spun you around and took both wrists in his hands, he didn't say anything.

he just looked at you, one eyebrow arched, that familiar amused smirk playing on his lips.

he didn't need to talk.

you looked up at him, gulping softly, and recited the words he's told you before under similar circumstances:

“i shouldn't panic, because we're together… and this is a normal thing to happen.”

he hummed in approval, then leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“good. now, won't you join me, kitten?”

and join him, you did. because honestly… who were you to refuse showering with your boyfriend?

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

you were preparing cookies for a charity event.

“save the kittens!” or something along those lines. you read “kittens” and were in.

xavier, of course, wanted to participate too, just because he saw how enthusiastic you were, and because he would get to have kittens curled on his lap once you two went to the event hosted by the shelter.

he was helping… in his own way. having xavier near the kitchen is a fire hazard, so you had him crack the eggs, whisk the batter and, from time to time, use the cookie cutter.

however, he somehow managed to still cause a ruckus, as he preheated the oven a bit too much. when he opened it, a black cloud of smoke covered him.

he had to go change, naturally.

after a while, you decided to check up on him. poor xav, he just wanted to help!

as you step into the shared bedroom, you gasp and cover your face immediately.

he wasn't just shirtless. he was cleaning his pale, rosy skin with a wet cloth. under that comfy sweater laid an absolute sight to behold.

if it wasn't for the frown and the slight pout on his lips, you'd think he did this on purpose.

he looks up upon your clumsy entrance, and he tilts his head.

“is it that bad?”

he softly asks.

you look up automatically, shaking your head. you don't want him to get the wrong idea.

“no, xav! i just— i am sorry, i just forgot to knock first…”

he stares at you, before laughing gently.

“is that it? can't handle seeing your boyfriend naked, starlight? we've done worse thin—”

“xav!”

you soon exit the bedroom again in a rush.

“hurry, the event will start soon!”

and he chuckles.

though, the next time he enters the kitchen to help you pack everything, he's shirtless again.

he steps behind you, hugging you close —as he usually does when he's sleepy—, but this time, you know he has a different purpose.

and he absolutely adores seeing your rapid, nervous movements as his naked, warm chest presses against you.

"cute," he thinks.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

you visited him while he was working. your excuse? you brought lunch and homemade chocolate muffins!

you happily walk through the clean, white halls, greeting the nurses that already know you're here for your boyfriend, dr. zayne.

you step into his office, and he isn't there.

uh? weird.

you decide to check the connected room, where he usually rests, and…

you gasp. the lunch you brought falls to the floor, but thankfully, it was protected inside your leathery bag.

he looks up, raising one eyebrow.

your boyfriend. shirtless. no glasses on.

his white coat is carefully draped over a chair, and he has a black button-up shirt waiting to be put on.

his body is divine. it feels like a sin to be a witness of his god-chiseled features, especially when neither of you is really used to... such displays.

you quickly turn around to give him some privacy.

“uhm, well, i… i should've knocked. i'm truly sorry, zayne, if i knew you were changing, i swear i wouldn't have—”

but he sighs, softly turning you around by holding your shoulders. he looks down at you, and he seems unfazed.

but the tips of his ears are bright red.

“no need to apologize. i am merely changing clothes.”

he softly says.

“you… may look.”

and your face feels ten times hotter.

funnily enough, you obey.

and look you do.

you intently watch as he buttons up his black shirt, as he puts his coat on, as he slips his glasses back on.

“i was actually going out for lunch.”

he says, now stepping closer to you.

you remember your bag and quickly pick it up.

“no need! i brought you lunch and dessert too!”

and his lips curl up slightly. he pats your head gently, before leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“good. after barging in, i expect you to hand-feed me.”

oh, and he means it.

you happily oblige though, following him back to his office to set everything up and have lunch with your hot boyfriend.

[saturnicos]

. . . sleepy

⟩ cw: reader looks drunk but is just sleepy, gn!reader

⟩ notes: i went on a trip with my friends other day and only then i did notice how drunk i look when i'm sleepy lol so, short and quick nonsense inspired by this -ᴗ⁠-

"human! what are you looking at?"

you blinked slowly, almost like a frog. once, twice, three times until you regained your attention to the environment with your eyes still half open, overcome by school fatigue.

with your elbow on the table and your chin resting on the back of your hand, you had been staring at sebek beside you for longer than you could remember as he continued to speak. malleus, professor crewel's next test, the last club activity; you only remembered key words. 

his voice was merely a buzz during this time, and the words were nothing more than a cluster of constant reverberations as you found yourself lost in the moment, sleep overcoming your cognitive capacity and nullifying your minimal understanding. 

almost as if you were under the influence of alcohol, you gave a weak laugh, going from leaning on your hand to leaning on the side of sebek's arm, answering him without thinking much first. "at your pretty face." 

sebek's expression changed in a split second, almost at the speed of a glimmer, going from a frown to a mix of indignation and confusion. it was funny, you thought, how his face and the tips of his ears grew redder and redder.

without blinking, he was quick to answer you back in complete disbelief, turning his face so fast to look at you that you could swear you heard a crack. "Y-YOU!!— DO YOU HAVE NO SHAME?!"

"about what? you indeed have a pretty face." you brought a hand to his face, your fingertips running over his cheek in patterns as if it were an analysis that proved a point. on the other hand, sebek seemed frozen in place — even though his skin was warm —, his sharp gaze embarrassed enough to refuse to look away — maybe, he just couldn't say that he appreciated the compliment as his heart melted like butter on a hot plate. 

"you know, you should actually be a cover boy or—" 

"E-ENOUGH!! YOU NEED SOME REST!!"

ilovesebekilovesebekilovesebekilovesebek

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

In the Closet

The second I met him, my life changed for the better. At least, that’s what I thought until his landlady started meddling.

“There’s an extra bedroom upstairs. That is if you need it.”

My hackles rose, which they always did when an innuendo regarding my sexuality was brought out for scrutiny.

“Of course, we will need it!” I exclaimed exasperated.

“Oh, we have all sorts around here, dear. Mrs Turner next door even has married ones.”

Sherlock murmured something under his breath, and I prompted him to speak up, which he refused. My legendary stubbornness got the better of me – again – and I urged him not to be shy.

“Very well,” he said haughtily. “I do not understand why you are so determined to suppress your bisexuality. You are obviously in the closet, but like Hudders just said, we have all sorts around here. No need to hide like you apparently had to in your childhood home and in the army.”

If I thought his deductions from the day before were amazing, this unwelcome disclosure just made me nauseous, and my intestines clenched painfully.

“That way,” Sherlock pointed.

I ran to the loo; I must’ve looked quite green around the gills for him to notice and vomited violently. 

There was no way I could move in with him now; though I did contemplate to move into the bathroom on a permanent basis to avoid meeting that dazzling gaze ever again.

“She’s gone. You can come out,” Sherlock said calmly. “Tea?”

“Are you even real?” I wanted to ask.

I had never met anyone who took my deepest fear and transformed it into some trifle in just a couple of minutes. Maybe it was all fine.

“You’ve been a bloody soldier, Watson! Surely, you can cope having tea with the man.”

I had trouble lifting my gaze to his face when I finally emerged from the loo. A perfectly brewed mug of tea stood on the kitchen table. How he knew that I only took a splash of milk and no sugar, was beyond me, but apparently, Sherlock Holmes was some sort of weird magician who knew absolutely everything tiny detail about me.

***

After I shot Jeff Hope to save Sherlock’s life, he took me to his favourite Chinese restaurant, and prattled on about the lower part of the door handle. I paid no attention to the actual words; too elated, giddy, and a tad bit frightened after I realised, he could’ve died if I hadn’t raced after him and brought the gun with me.

“Don’t do that again,” I said quietly after he had ordered for us.

“Do what?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Leave me behind like that. You couldn’t have known that I would follow you.”

“Oh, but I did know, John,” he said confidently.

“Whatever,” I sighed, knowing there was little use to argue with him. “Just…please, promise me.”

“Why?” he asked in a hushed tone.

The waiter brought our food and interrupted my speech. We were both famished and dug into the most delicious Chinese food I’d ever eaten.

***

Later, when the door to 221B closed behind us, Sherlock turned to me and asked again.

“Because now that I’ve found you, I can’t live without you,” I said softly.

The genuine smile I was rewarded with, sent electrical jolts down my spine, which only increased when his large hands cupped my face.

“Ditto,” he whispered and kissed me.

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[gugudalala]

ft. sae itoshi / rin itoshi x reader

synopsis: They grew up together, hearts quietly entwined — even when Sae left for America. Now that Sae's back, Rin is done watching from the sidelines and pushes his way between them, Sae's long-suppressed jealousy boils over — the quiet bond they once shared threatens to erupt into something far more dangerous.

TW: smut with plot, spanking, degradation, size kink, unprotected, praise, ect+++

words: 1155

A/N. I do not own any of the character or picture (credit to the rightful owner) only the plots are mine. 

Enjoy ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

CH: 1 | 2 | 3

────୨ৎ────

"Rin, please stop" he pushed you back onto the door as you both got inside his room. With both his hands on the side of your head, kissing so passionately. When you try to escape only for him to force you back into the kiss. 

‘How... how did it come to this?’ 

Sae just returned for a family visit. You've known each other since we were kids, growing up in the same neighborhood and even sharing the same class. Then there's Rin, Sae’s younger brother. He’s always been around, even when Sae wasn't. When you were younger, you found it adorable how Rin looked up to his older brother. Even after Sae left, Rin kept showing up—asking for help with homework, tests, anything to stay close.

But over time, Rin began to change. He started to grow into someone who reminded me more and more of Sae—your first love… and your darkest secret.

You were just having a normal family dinner, with his parents and yours, celebrating Sae’s return. With Sae sitting right beside you, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter every time your eyes met. But that moment didn’t last—because then Rin caught your gaze, stood up without a word, and pulled you into his room before anyone even noticed.

Pulling away from the kiss "The way you looked at him… Why? I've always been here for you. Why can’t you look at me like that? What does he have that I don’t?" 

"Rin, please…" Confused by his actions, your heart stumbles. All this time, you believed he was just the younger brother of the one you once loved — one you never saw coming.

"You were so excited all morning, dressing so well... just because my brother was coming back?" pushing you into his bed, he reached into your skirt cupping onto my heat "Look at how wet you are, hopping for my brother to fuck you, don't you" his finger move your panties aside as he tease and thrust his finger into you. You can't help but squirm but his hand held you into place "listen to it" lewd squelching sound filled up the room, you can't help but listen to how wet you were. “Such a good girl being wet and ready to be fuck” Feeling of shame creeping up on you, this is just not right. His finger reached all the spots that had never been played with, pleasuring you like never before — and you don’t want him to stop. Each thrust is hard and fast and as you were about to reach your climax, he pulled out along with your panties. Looking back at him, he was licking his finger, cleaning off your juices, you can’t help but blush by his action

Getting on top of you, he pulled down his pants. Realizing how far this would go, you tried to escape him only to be dragged down by your leg toward him. “Rin, we should not be doing this… I have never done it before” you plead only for his eyes to light up “Then let me have it,  I won’t watch him steal what I’ve waited for all along." He slipped the dress off your shoulders, only to shove it upward, trapping your arms, and locking you in place. When your eyes met his, the air shifted, there was no mistaking it, the heat in his gaze said everything — raw, undeniable desire. He adjusted himself on you, spreading your leg and slowly pushed into you. Stretching and filling you out. You can’t help but to cry out only for him to kiss back your scream. He started moving while giving you small kisses around your face while keeping his thrust slow. “Rin..” you moaned “You are taking me so well” he praised as he kissed away your tears as he adjusted his place and moved faster.

The room is filled with the sound of your skin slapping against each other, while your arm is still trapped by your dress both his hands on your side pushing you toward his thrust. You almost reached your climax but then he suddenly pulled out, again. Flushed and whining “Rin?” you asked but only to be flip onto your stomach with your hip up in the air. He pushed right back in, this time thrusting deep and slowly edging you “Please, please” already breathless and crying from how sensitive you are. He's making you almost cum over and over again, you tried to bounce back into him as you felt the heat coming back but once again he pulled out before you could even cum

Pulling out he moved back, sitting on the bed with his black to the bed frame “Do it yourself” Looking straight at you he demanded “If you want to cum, help yourself” Looking into his eyes, buried by the tears. He's been edging you for hours and you want nothing more but to cum, hard. Even knowing that it is wrong you can’t help but get onto him, removing all your clothes you got on top of him, breath shaky as you sit up “Good girl, you don't know how long I have been waiting” he reaches and tugs some strain of hair behind your ear, tracing down onto your lip with another hand reaching down teasing your clit  “Whatever you're feeling right now—it’s not even half of what I’ve felt, waiting, aching for you all this time. You have no idea what it’s been like" he pushed his finger into your mouth at the same time with his other hand inside you, both your mouth getting filled and played with, making you see the star.

Once he pulled out, both hands reaching for your sides "Go ahead, take what you want” dropping your hip onto him, feeling him filling you to the top. “Too much” you cry trying to stop but only to be pushed down more by him. “All of it, take it all” With him gripping your side he pushed upward while holding you down. Desperately holding onto his shoulders as he drives his cock into your sloppy cunt. The heat came rushing back afraid he was going to stop once again. You bounced back down, meeting his thrust and finally coming on him, and with a few more thrust he comes into you

Within a moment, he pushed you down to your back, not letting you catch your breath before sliding back in “Rin! — Wait, I just came” your voice breaks, reaching toward him to stop but he uses that opportunity to grab both your hands and pull you toward his trust “Shh… you’re doing good, one more” he grunts, rocking his hips again, again, and again.

You didn’t even know how long you had been going for, but you woke in his arms as the first light of morning crept in—unaware of the shadow that had lingered all night beneath Rin’s door, silently listening.

[theotherrookie]

"They never do. I don't get why adults are like that with kids." Erica grumbled, "Well, that served him right. He should be thankful he can still see other people holding mops or anything else. I used to scratch those who picked on isolated survivors."

She tried liking everybody, but she simply couldn't stomach bullies. They should be better people if they didn't want their butts kicked.

"Oh, I just dress comfy for myself and for Smokey. He used to sleep in the hole on my back, but I don't have it anymore. So we need pockets now." Erica explained, "Oh, I see! Russell always gets in trouble, uh? But I'm glad he's going to be okay."

She scratched at the tip of her ear as she tried to recall anything about the accident Travis had mentioned. "Hey, Willow, how long have we known Russell?"

Willow, of course, provided an answer without hesitation. "Rook met Russell about six years ago. However, the accident in question was never mentioned to me, which might imply she isn't aware of that particular misadventure. It isn't the sort of topic one would so casually discuss with a person they only recently met."

Rook would have definitely brought it up at some point. The topic of Russell's ability to get in dangerous situations and narrowly escaping it had been discussed often over the years and neither had been able to provide an explanation on how he managed to do that.

"And I met him later because I was still figuring stuff out after Willow found a way to reverse my zombieness."

"We were all very busy at the time." Willow said, leaning back, "To think I was only two years old then. Time really does fly outside the matrix."

"You know, we could watch that show together." Erica offered, "It'd be the first time for me!"

Rook stopped to look around while the pocket kept shifting to create a suitable way out of there.

"That would become unbearable quickly. The first thing I did when I learned there was a way to interact with this place was removing the echo." Rook said, "I really didn't have a great time the first time I got stuck in here. It took mum half a day to notice I was missing."

"I only had control over a limited portion of this place. Chick had to keep busy rearranging all my supplies." Veronica added.

But of course, everything had changed when Rook had retrieved one of their lost books from the clutches of the Brotherhood. They finally had access to a powerful tool that made their activities far easier and were a bit closer to unlocking other hunting techniques previously lost to time.

The last few blocks fell into place just as Bill was sent off to enjoy the panoramic view. Veronica figured she would make herself useful while they waited for Rook to tend to her business and shifted her focus to keeping their surroundings stable while they lingered there.

"Alchemy has always been one of our strongest suit. I dare say Erika has a natural talent for it." Veronica said, pride evident in her tone.

Rook wasn't feeling particularly proud of herself, but still managed a small nod. "I'm alright. I see you guys found my pile of gold without the rainbow. Do you want some?"

The coin shined and felt like the real deal. It was made of gold of the highest quality and with both sides decorated with a crude rendition of a bird's foot.

Rook went ahead and dug up a candy scoop she then used to fill a small bag with coins under Lucien's very intrigued gaze. She closed the bag by pulling the strings at the sides, then offered it to Antonio.

"I've got plenty to spare. I really don't mind."

"The one he picked might be worth more than the entire pile, dear."

"Let me splurge, mum. I'm trying to ignore my feelings right now."

Unable to resist to the shiny himself, Lucien quietly took the scoop from her and started filling another bag for himself.

"Oh, please, don't make compliments." Rook said, nudging him with her boot.

"Get off my back. I can make a lovely pendant for Russell with these." The half fae hastily pushed back with his arm, before scooping up a few more coins.

"Then they wonder why kids hate schools." Erica grumbled, "I bet they still tell the story of what you did! That guy must be scared of mops too now."

It still wasn't as satisfying as the guy getting skewered or having the mop broken over his head, but it was enough to get the point across.

"You hardly have the need to go unnoticed, Travis. One look at you is enough to discourage many from trying their luck." Willow pointed, "Erica was raised to hunt. It's only natural for her to be conspicuous despite her wardrobe."

"Yeah, sometimes I scare people by accident." Erica confirmed. Perhaps that choice of words was by accident as well. "If those were the second and third, what was the best news you got?"

"The afterlife is extensive. However, she most likely wouldn't mind making an attempt." Willow reassured, "Mother likes you as well as your brothers. That means her usual attentions will be extended to you all as well."

The need for closure would move the ghost lady most of all. Veronica would have agreed in a heartbeat, if only she still had a heart.

Willow considered her options, before tapping into the radio again. The car lacked the charm and bite of the real deal, but she hoped Travis was familiar with KITT. She hated wasting a good reference.

"Come on, Travis! You can't leave me hanging like this. I'm a marvelous car, but I can't do all the heavy lifting myself. That's your specialty."

Erica's ears perked up. "I know that voice! It's that talking car who hung out with that guy from SpongeBob!"

Willow smiled as she tossed her hair back, "I felt like going for a classic this time."

It seemed like these were typical shenanigans between the two of them.

The pocket dimension was very barren, but was far from still. The fog quietly parted as they walked, flowing all around them like an intricate network of streams. It was something Rook found calming in small doses, though her attention was focused elsewhere.

"There's no ugly moquette or buzzing lights either." Rook added, "It can be too quiet at times. Not that hearing distant noises would be any better. I guess it's good for reading, Antonio can probably attest to that. Or not– I'm still waiting for your review of your stay in my liminal closet."

It seemed like a nice way to divert the attention away from some rather unpleasant memories. That wasn't the time or place to start that argument and most of all, she didn't think Lucien should have been present to provide his opinion on the matter. The fae could be awfully unhelpful at times.

Though Bill was being just as helpful, in his own way. Veronica hadn't meant to follow up on her threat, but now she simply had to.

"Too many underestimate the importance of sound values when parenting." Veronica paused, her gaze trailing over at the inevitable duck comment, "You're simply hopeless."

And about to take a ride in the hard to discern void slide. Rook wasn't the only one able to mess with gravity there. Bill could take a ride and think about the consequences of his own actions.

Lucien was simply glad he wasn't the one falling into oblivion. He would simply turn the other way and let Rook have her moment of privacy so she could replenish her magic battery.

"Oh, I see you started synthesizing gold." he told Veronica.

"It's an old family recipe." Veronica replied, "It's a shame we can only use it sparingly these days."

Rook could do nothing but stand for a moment to watch the way everybody was ready to give her some space. It meant more than she was willing to admit. Then again, she never got too sentimental when her marks whenever she started feeling drained.

Rook silently turned and took a few steps away from the group, before there was a shift in the pocket to reveal one of the few monsters she had the time to catch lately. It looked like a hybrid between some kind of reptile and a rodent with a mantis-like head. It didn't really matter what it was or where it came from. She had found it trying to eat some poor schmuck and it had almost slashed her wing off with its claws. Now it was going to do something useful for a change.

"Imagine if Five found you instead." She would probably be starving. There was another shift as a bright light engulfed the monster, before it vanished into a swirly cloud of energy that was absorbed by her marks.

Rook took a moment to simply breathe, before turning back. "I… I'm done."

She didn't want to drag this on to avoid making it more awkward than it was.

[fear-is-truth]

hi Jackie!! I was wondering, if you're not that busy, another headcanon for the evans about what they would be like if they were jealous and how they would let reader know.

(a lil note just for say that I love so much all the things you write, you're fuckin amazing girl😩🫶💞)

𝝑𝝔 ── jealousy, jealousy ┊ THE EVANS

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ frat!/franken kyle spencer ‧ james march ‧ kai anderson ‧rory monahan ‧ austin sommers

꣑ৎ ‎ :‎ masterlist ﹒꒱ note. tysm , this actually made my day !

TATE LANGDON

jealousy hits him like vertigo. it comes out in sideways remarks or forced vulnerability: you’ll find him curled up on your bed, asking timidly whether you still like him. crybaby tate tears up easily, but…. it’s mostly a guilt tactic. that, or he shuts down and sulks. refuses to talk about his feelings. tate wants you to notice and come ask. if you don’t, he’ll get all passive-aggressive and sarcastic. “they’re really funny, huh?” or “you like them better, i get it.” if you still don’t take the bait, tate will do something evil reckless just to pull focus back to him.

KIT WALKER

kit doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret. so, he internalises it. try to rationalise it away, place the blame on himself, maybe even take a walk to cool off. when it finally comes out, it’s of the protective variety instead of possessiveness. he doesn’t want to control you, but he wants to feel chosen.

FRAT!KYLE SPENCER

he gets territorial in subtle, almost playful ways. friendly aggression: a casual shoulder-check that lands a bit too hard. roughhousing the guy he’s jealous of under the guise of a joke. anything to wedge some space between them and you. at parties, he might yank you into his lap without warning, kiss you harder than usual—just enough to make a point without saying a word.

FRANKEN!KYLE

kyle can’t remember the exact word—not precisely—but he knows the feeling of jealousy well enough to resent it. he moves closer without thinking. fingers brush yours, then wrap around your hand like it’s always been his. he doesn’t let go. if you step away, he trails after you, unwilling to be left behind. if someone else touches you, even lightly, kyle flinches. the look in his eyes changes—sharp, then suddenly plaintive. wounded. like a dog who’s been scolded but doesn’t understand why.

JAMES PATRICK MARCH

jealousy registers as a personal insult. he sees it as a violation of loyalty, whether or not you meant it that way. if another man so much as holds your gaze too long, james goes completely cold. he won’t accuse you directly, but he’ll punish you in tiny gestures. lock you out of the bedroom. call you by your full name like you’re in trouble (you are.) later, he’ll sit beside you in silence and say something along the lines of, “i do hope your little performance was worth the price.”

RORY MONAHAN

he’ll play it off at first. big grin, casual jokes. “should i be worried about that guy or…?” but there’s a slight pause after he laughs, as if he’s clocking your answer. if it keeps bothering him, he still won’t outright call it jealousy, but he’ll start doing things just to earn your gaze back. “babe, remember who you came with,” he’ll say, all smiles but the minute you’re alone, he’ll nuzzle into your neck and mumble something insecure, like, “you’d tell me if you thought he was hotter, right?”

KAI ANDERSON

jealousy flips a switch in him. he gets obsessive—asks invasive questions under the guise of caring. “how long have you known them?” “you like being looked at like that?” he wants control back. that often means lovebombing, pinky-power interrogation, and sex that feels more like reclamation. he doesn’t like the feeling of being replaceable, and he hates that it shows. he’ll rather DIE before admitting he’s hurt.

AUSTIN SOMMERS

he gets snippy and passive-aggressive. “wow, your little friend has… confidence. it’s brave.” outright rude, if he’s drinking—talks over you, interrupts your story, maybe even start flirting with someone else in front of you.

[teaandjumpers]

Obikin Summer Camp AU (Camp Director/Counselor)

--- “I’ve had enough of your pranks, Anakin,” said Obi-Wan, irritated.

“You’re a counselor now—not a camper. Act like it.”

He had chased Anakin out to the woods, past the border of the camp, ready to throttle the boy. 

Seven.

Seven pranks, all targeting him. Salt in his sugar dispenser. Honey on his bedding. Furniture on the roof. Each prank growing bigger, more ludicrous, more time-consuming in its clean up.

He thought it would end after a week. That Anakin would get over the fact that he hadn’t been chosen to be the camp’s director. It was a ludicrous notion anyway, the newly-appointed counselor thinking he could be a director. 

Anakin had only been a camper a short four years prior, and despite what Qui-Gon had told the younger man, no one was going to appoint a twenty-one year-old to help manage a camp full of teenagers. 

Not that Obi-Wan wanted the job either. He was doing this as a favor to his former mentor who had decided to pack-up and climb the Himalayas on a whim, leaving the camp without anyone to run it. 

It was a thankless job, and Obi-Wan had spent most of his summer around loud, sticky kids. But he was between projects at present, and his latest book on the evolution of scotch through the ages was doing well enough that he could afford the time off. Plus, after traveling through Scotland for his short documentary series, In Search of Good Peat, he liked the idea of staying in one place for a time. 

So that left him with Anakin, who, as it was when Obi-Wan was a counselor and Anakin a fresh-faced camper, had become his second shadow. 

Every time something went wrong, there was Anakin, a near-indiscernible smirk on his face.

Only a person who knew the boy, had seen him make a similar face when a rival of his caught a softball to the face or slipped on the lake’s deck, would notice it, and Obi-Wan knew Anakin well.

And he was driving Obi-Wan mad. 

Anakin gave him his most innocent look, wide, confused eyes, pouty lips, but they both knew it was an act. 

With more force than necessary, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin against the nearest tree, holding him against it with a sturdy press of his palm against the younger man’s chest. 

“And drop the act, if you would please.”

“What act?” asked Anakin, his voice turning sing-song sweet. “What have I done, Obi-Wan?” 

“He’s a family friend, he’s a family friend, he’s a family friend,” Obi-Wan repeated to himself as the urge to let his hand creep up the boy’s chest to his neck grew. 

Anakin pouted. “A family friend? Are you saying we’re not friends, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Friends don’t make each other’s lives a living hell.”

For a moment, Anakin seemed to consider his words, appearing almost contrite. Obi-Wan kept his palm against the boy’s chest, but just as he was about to pull away, Anakin grabbed his arm, curling one of his hands around Obi-Wan’s wrist. 

“And what do friends do for each other?” he asked.

His voice had grown low, almost sultry, and he began to drag his curled fist up and down Obi-Wan’s wrist. 

It took Obi-Wan’s brain a moment to catch up with his body. His body, traitorous thing that it was, was very very interested in Anakin’s sudden change in demeanor, in the looseness of the boy’s wrist as he worked Obi-Wan’s forearm. 

But his brain recoiled in horror, screaming at him to jump back as soon as he realized what he was feeling.

He scrambled away, falling on his arse just a few feet away from Anakin who was still leaning against the tree, his posture languid as he watched Obi-Wan intently, his gaze unreadable under the moon’s low light. 

“What can I do for you, Obi-Wan?”

[mytheoristavenue]

KNY Boxer!Gyutaro x Chubby!Reader - Float Like a Butterfly - II

Summary: After coming to the gym for a few weeks, you begin to notice an odd pattern in the reclusive gymrat.

Warnings: Light stalking, fatphobia, misogyny, violence, toxic behavior

You cursed as you wandered into the gym, it being your first visit without Mitsuri present. If you were honest, you'd been considering cancelling your membership. You hated the attention you got, so, knowing you'd be without your cheerleader this time, you waited for nightfall.

You went to the locker room to change, pausing when you noticed the light to the 'arena' on. One of the boxers must be training. You shrugged it off and slipped into the tile room to switch your work shirt for a sweatshirt and leggings.

Stepping out, you set your headphones on your head and went for the stairmaster. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you spotted a figure peaking around the doorway to the arena, but you chalked it up to late-night paranoia.

Little did you know, someone was watching from that very spot, breath heavy, eyes devouring your form. Gyutaro had been training in the back when he heard the door open, piquing his interest, and you'd held his attention ever since.

Finally, you glanced back at just the right time to see messy lime hair slip out of view, and your blood went cold. "Not this guy again," You muttered under your breath.

The truth was, you couldn't stand Gyutaro. He seemed alright at first, but every time you'd seen him since that initial meeting, he'd put a chill in your spine. Always staring from a distance with that intense, hateful look, always breathing heavily when you were near, as if hardly holding back his rage. And now you were alone with him- the gym's mid-weight boxing champ- at night. Awesome.

You shook off the dread and abandoned the stairmaster for the bench press, thinking maybe if he says your 'raw strength', 'it'd deter him from approaching. Maybe you hadn't thought that part through. Despite your efforts to drive him away, he found himself slinking toward you while your eyes squeezed shut with effort.

Your eyes suddenly snapped open when you felt the bar suddenly become easier to lift. A fear-filled gasp left your lips when you found your gaze locked with those harsh cobalt eyes you'd come to hate so much.

"Too heavy for you," He muttered, racking the bar and removing the weight. You immediately put distance between the pair of you, earning a skeptical look from him.

"Sit," He said, pointing to the seat while he installed a smaller weight. "Now," He insisted, nothing your hesitation. You did so reluctantly, afraid to upset him. "Better?" He asked gruffly, lowering the bar into your hands. It actually was much more manageable, so you nodded.

"Uh-huh," You muttered, lowering it to your chest. "Thanks, Gyutaro." He simply gave you a curt nod.

"Thirty reps," He replied, stepping back slightly, hands hovering beneath the bar to spot you. He still stared at you so angrily, still breathed like he was simply waiting for an excuse to lash out. After an odd moment of silence, on your last few reps, he muttered, "I watched you change..."

His comment froze your blood and when you finished, you slid out from under the bar, standing and adjusting your sweatshirt, drawing his gaze to your tummy. You were just about to make some excuse as to why you had to leave when he spoke again. "You know you're fat?" He asked abruptly. Your face scrunched, and you crossed your arms.

"Yeah, I had a sneaking suspicion," You scoffed, the urge to cater to him to avoid his wrath melting away.

"And stupid," He added with a sneer. "Why are you even here? To lose weight?" Your hesitation told him he was right on the money. "For some guy, right? Fat chicks do that all the time."

You weren't about to come out and confess to his correct guess, but your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Obviously, you've got some weird fetish for fat girls then, because you've stalked me for weeks!"

"I'm not stalking you," He muttered curtly, notably not reacting to the 'fat girl fetish' comment. "Don't be so full of yourself."

You cocked a brow. "What else should I call it? Watching me when you think I don't see you, sneaking up on me, getting close without my permission? Watching me change?"

Gyutaro shrank back a bit, his pride definitely damaged. "Just tryin'a help," He scoffed. "And I never-"

"By being a creep?" You laughed cynically. "News flash! Girls don't like that!" You took a powerful pose to intimidate him, but his eyes only raked over your wide hips and cute pout. "And by the way, I didn't ask for your help!"

"Whatever," He rolled his eyes. "Stay fat then," He turned away to slink over to where he came from. "I bet you don't even listen to Deftones."

His last comment threw you off. What the hell did that have to do with it? "What does that-" You paused as he simply walked away, backing to the training room. You decided the answer wasn't important enough to you, and you scurried to the locker room.

You definitely were not about to change again and risk him spying on you, so you bundled your clothes up in your arms and headed for the door. As you did, you caught sight of him standing in the doorway of the training room again, but his expression killed and smart comment you had. It was contempt, plain and simple.

Taglist:

(I tagged everyone who commented on part one, so if you would like to be added or removed, lmk!)

@cantchoosejust1 @limomi @i-l-arva @icky-sticky-vicky @effetsecndaires

[raghaziel]

William Beeman was the worst boss imaginable.

He didn’t just work—he consumed. Numbers, charts, deadlines. Profit margins. Share values. Closing quarter projections. It was like his humanity had been amputated the day of his divorce and replaced with spreadsheets and scotch.

And unfortunately, he took his entire team down with him.

Four months. That’s how long you had been working under one of the most powerful men on Wall Street. William Beeman didn’t speak so much as bark. He didn’t request—he demanded. And when he turned that sharp, clipped tone on you in front of the entire executive board? Everyone nodded, apologized, and tried not to cry until the elevator doors closed.

But God help you, you noticed him.

The first time it happened, he was rolling his wedding ring between his fingers like he was grinding down the memory. You should’ve looked away, but you didn’t. Your eyes lingered—on the veins running along his forearms, the way his large hands flexed with repressed frustration.

He wore tailored three-piece suits like armor. Always dark. Always immaculate. Always so stiff it should’ve made him inhuman.

And yet...

There was something captivating about how real he was beneath the polish. Something raw. Physical. Overpowering. When he stayed in the office past midnight, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened and scotch in hand, it was hard not to stare.

It started as curiosity. A glance here, a second too long there. But quickly—too quickly—it became a problem. A fixation. Even when he tore into you in meetings, all you could think about was the stretch of his shirt across his shoulders, the way his voice dropped when he was angry.

You knew it was wrong.

So one night—pathetic, tired, and feeling invisible—you wrote about him. A quick, messy Tumblr post. Fiction, of course. Just words. Just fantasy.

Except that’s where everything began to unravel.

At first, it was a day like the others. The building vibrated with post-pandemic fatigue as the staff returned from lunch, coffee in hand, eyes glued to their screens. You were typing up the minutes of a meeting when the air around her changed.

Heavy footsteps. In attendance. Then…

"Y/N"

The name cracked like a whip across the open space.

Everyone stopped.

He had just stepped out of the elevator, his black coat billowing behind him like a storm. His pace didn't falter. He didn't even look at you, anger radiating from him in waves so strong it took one's breath away.

And something else.

The entire office pretended they hadn't noticed William Beeman striding across the floor like a loaded weapon, his muscles tense, his green gaze unreadable. By the time he reached his glass-walled office, he opened the door without touching the handle—just a firm push of his palm—and turned around.

A single line. No subject. No signature. Just two words:

"My office."

No context. No intensity. And that was the worst part. Beeman never explained. He didn't ask. He called out.

The whole office held its breath as you walked past—the poor little secretary in her fluffy cardigan and her shaky steps—straight into the lion's den. Her heart pounded with every step on the cold marble floor. What had she done?

Then, you pushed open the heavy oak door.

He was already standing. Leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest, dark suit impeccable, emerald eyes unreadable.

"Close the door."

His voice was low. Flat. Deadly. You obeyed, barely breathing.

William Beeman tilted his head, his eyes fixed on you as if you were a file he'd already memorized. Slowly, cruelly, he lifted a tablet from his desk. Your stomach tightened as soon as you saw the screen.

Your words. Your fanfiction. His name.

He smirked, cold, knowing, and completely unamused.

"You've been busy, haven't you?" he drawled. "All that time taking notes during meetings, fetching my coffee... and writing about what you'd rather be doing on your knees under my desk."

He moved forward, slow as a predator, and she froze.

"You have an imagination, I'll grant you that. The story about my belt?" » He bent down, his thumb brushing the edge, almost lazily. "Inspired. Precise, too."

You were about to respond, refute, defend yourself as best you could, with arguments you hadn't even come up with yet. However, he stopped you cold. He stopped in front of you, his voice low enough to escape him.

"Don't insult me by lying. Next time you want to write about your fantasies about your boss, be sure to use a VPN."

His smile widened, as if he sensed the power of your panic.

"You wanted the beast in the meeting room, didn't you? Let's see if you're cut out to survive it."

*

Ok, guys, This was my first initial writing and I'm sharing it now. Well, I hesitated between William and Clayton Beresford but I already wrote something with Clayton so..

[cannibalcow01]

Ran, baby fever and Pixie.

*Bonten Crack

*Ran is Menace

*Pregnancy Scare

*💊 Sanzu🩷

Kakucho fiddled with the blue and pink boxes as he waited on the other side of the bathroom door. He wasn't sure why he bought so many? He's never been in this position before but when someone who he considered as his friend asked him to get her a pregnancy test... He panicked and returned with 6 different boxes, all different brands.

"What are you doing?"

Sanzu walked up and peaked at the boxes. "Oh shit! You gonna be a daddy?"

Kakucho shook his head. "No. Its has nothing to do with with me. Its for.. uh." It wasn't really his business to tell? Then again you're always with Sanzu so maybe it's his kid?

Sanzu snickered. "Oh... It's for Ran huh? One of his many one night stands then.. What is this, like his fifth kid?"

Kakucho fought off a disgusted shiver. ".... I really hope it's not Ran's."

Sanzu opened one of the boxes just to see what these things were all about. Before he could get the wrapper off the stick, a yell came from the bathroom.

He knew that scream!

Without thinking Sanzu kicked opened the bathroom door and drew his gun.

You both locked eyes and let out synchronized screams. His eyes traveled down to between your legs.

*Gasp!* "Why are you bleeding so much?! Did you push too hard and break your coochie?!"

You gave him a dead panned look. "I started my period, dumbass!"

(Sanzu) "Oh." *Snort* " Good for you?"

You huffed. "Hell yeah it is! That means I'm not pregnant!"

It finally clicked into Sanzu's dazed brain. "Oh... OH!!! Fuck yes! No baby!"

He held up his hand for a high five. You couldn't leave your man hanging.

After that he giggled and ran out of the bathroom. Probably going off to announce to the whole mansion you weren't knocked up. The person who could have been the father would probably faint with joy... Well if he hasn't drank himself unconscious by now.

Kakucho finally walked in, his eyes shifted away from you sitting on the toilet to the unused pregnancy test on the bathroom sink.

"Sorry for making you go to the pharmacy Kaku. It was just a false alarm."

Kakucho shrugged his shoulders. "S'fine. Better to start keeping these things around for other "guests". Since I'm sure you learned to be more careful now.."

"Oh, totally. I'm going on the damn pill after today..."

"Good..."

"Mhmm.. So, you mind getting out so I can clean up and change?"

"Shit!" Covering his eyes like he wasn't just standing next to you while still on the porcelain thrown. "Sorry!"

He fumbled for the door knob before he closed it shut.

You shook your head and laughed. There was no such thing as privacy around here.

If it was Mikey, Sanzu, Ran, or Takeomi they'd just watch. Mochi wouldn't even bother to be involved. Kokonoi and Kakucho were the only ones who respected your privacy.... Sometimes.

---------------

On the other side of Bonten's HQ, Sanzu ran into the sitting area to find the Haitani's already there.

"Y/n's not pregnant!"

Sanzu not being able to contain his excitement, started shaking Rindou who grabbed onto Sanzu's shoulders in return and squeezed like he wanted to hurt him..

"Are you sure?! You better not be lying you pink fuck!"

Sanzu shoved the younger Haitani off of himself and drew his gun once again. He was beyond trigger happy today...

"You've been touching my coochie Haitani?"

Rindou slapped the gun away from his temple. "She's not even yours you obsessive fuck. Are you positive she isn't knocked up?!"

Sanzu eyed him for a second. "What's stuck up your ass? And yes, she's having a blood bath on the toilet right now. I thought her pussy fell off."

Sanzu looked around the room. Rindou grabbed a glass from the coffee table and slammed down the rest of the amber liquid. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey sat at the edge.

"Didn't we just buy that shit yesterday?"

"Fuck!"

Sanzu's gaze shot up to Ran. He stood in front of the two with a sad looking face. That's when Sanzu noticed the small outfits he had in each hand.

In the left was a tiny purple dress, complete with a small headband that had a huge flower attached to it. In the right was a brown bear onesie that had a purple bowtie connected to the chest.

"You mean... I'm not going to be an uncle?"

Rindou ran his hand down his face. "For the last time.. No. Go dress up your own kids and stop poking holes into my condoms, you sick fuck."

Ran clicked his tongue and slumped down onto the couch. " Your swimmers suck limp dick Rin. And for your information, your nieces and nephews are all already too big to be wearing this cute shit."

He grabbed the clothes and threw them at Sanzu. "Knock her up so I can have a baby."

Sanzu made a face of disgusting. "Like fuck I'm getting my partner in crime knocked up. Do you know how stupid we'd look torturing someone with a brat strapped to our chest? Go make another one somewhere!"

Ran sighed. "I don't want another one of my own. I only like them when they're tiny and babbling nonsense. When I get tired of it I can give it back."

Takeomi walked in and threw his box of condoms at Ran. "What the fucks your problem Ran?! I think I got one of the strippers from last week pregnant!"

"Ooop- I'm out!"

Ran used his daddy long legs and tried to run out the door. Takeomi wasn't having it.

"Get your slim Jim, Pocky stick, stick bug from bugs life lookin ass back here you lanky Slenderman bitch!"

The two passed you and Kakucho in the hallways. Ran gave you a quick glance over his shoulder and flipped you off as he ran from Takeomi.

"I'm disappointed in your ovaries woman!"

You and Kakucho looked at one another. "See, it was his doing! I say we just get him a puppy or something.. That or you let me kill him."

Kaku shook his head. "No to the killing part, Rindou would get depressed and either kill himself or you. I passed by some pet shop a few days ago. They had puppies... Let's go before Ran pulls a Jesus and gets someone else pregnant."

"Ran's too evil to pull a Jesus. He's going to Criss Angel a bitch pregnant instead."

------------------

The pet shop was small but you could feel the relaxed atmosphere before you and Kakucho even opened the door.

Of course your shopping companion went straight to look at the colorful fishes leaving you waiting by the counter for someone to help you out.

"Sorry to keep you waiting! It's just me today so I apologize ma'am."

The cutest guy you've ever seen walked in from some back office, with a few cat food bags stacked in his arms. Black and yellow hair with sandy colored eyes.

' Adorable.. '

He set the bags down and gave you a smile. It was like your brain quit working.

"Can I help you find something or just looking?"

You wanted to throw some cheesy joke about already finding what you wanted if you could take him home... Damn you hung around Ran too much...

' Oh right! Ran's dumbass.. '

"Uh.. actually I'm here to adopt a puppy or cat. Whatever really?"

The guys face lit up. It was their goal after all to find all the animals a forever home.

You learned the guy's name was Kazutora as he introduced you to the many animals up for adoption. Big, small, fuzzy, and scaly. All cute but none of them screamed ✨Ran Haitani ✨.

When Kazutora was in the middle of introducing you to a spotted bunny named Daisy. You had to stop him..

"I'm going to be real with you beautiful. The guy I'm buying for... Well I need an animal who will basically be acting as a baby for him. A plus if the animal wouldn't mind being dressed up in cutesy clothing..."

You noticed Kazutora's shoulders kind of dropped. "Oh.. shopping for your boyfriend?"

You had to swallow down the vile that shot up to the back of your throat. "Gross! Fuck that. He's more like an annoying coworker. The guys lonely and gets on all of our nerves. So I figured a fur baby would satisfy him."

His light returned! Kazutora thought for a second, he looked unsure... "There is one. She likes to dress up but--."

He motioned for you to follow him to the last animal case. It was huge! It took up almost more than half of the shelf's space! Maybe you should just get Ran the bunny?

When he stopped and looked down you had to hold back the dolphin laugh you wanted to spit out when your eyes landed on the animal.

A small tea cup Chihuahua sat on a large doggie bed that was decorated with small pillows that looked like they came from a doll house. It's huge but lazy eyes were glued to a small TV... Yes a TV in the showing case!

"So.. uh. This is Pixie.. She's the only animal we have who likes to dress up."

You couldn't take your eyes off of her and her purple sweater. If this wasn't Ran in mini dog form.

"Kakucho! Get your ass over here and take a look at this!"

Kazutora jumped back at your sudden yell. You looked up at him and apologized but his eyes traveled up to the figure standing in back of you.

"What do you think Kaku? Kazutora here says she likes to dress up."

Kakucho made a weird face that made his nose wrinkle. "We're getting that bastard a rat?"

You snorted while Kazutora gasped. "She's a tea cup Chihuahua Sir. Her name is Pixie."

Kakucho looked at Kazutora with furrowed brows. "Why Pixie?"

"Uh.. well I wanted to name her Tinker Bell after the fairy from Peter Pan because she likes attention and gives attitude when she doesn't get her way.. but my boss suggested Pixie because she seems to not like the color green. She tore up all her pillows and clothes. "

Kakucho let out a chuckle before looking down at you. You were making faces at the thing while it just looked at you with bored eyes.

'It even looks like him...'

You wiggled your finger at the dog. "We'll take her."

Again Kazutora seemed unsure. "Uhm.. Are you sure?" He brought you both over to a dog food aisle. He didn't want Pixie to hear him. "I'm going to warn you two now.. As you can tell she's pretty spoiled and mean." Kazutora lifted up his long sleeve and showed you the many tiny bite marks he had. "This is from when I tried to wake her up from her nap."

You and Kakucho shared a look. You both smiled and spoke at the same time. "She's perfect."

----------------

Rindou clicked his tongue from beside you. He hated this.. Ran had asked you and Rindou to baby sit on your day off. He was on assignment and couldn't take his baby with him.. Rindou tried to get out of it but Mikey roped him back in.

"You know...I really regret not knocking you up now. Pushing around a baby wouldn't be as humiliating as this."

You looked down at Pixie who was having the time of her life being pushed around by Rindou in her doggie stroller. Wearing a bright pink dress with a white flower attached to her collar, along with a small matching sun hat.

In Ran's words. "A classy lady look."

You pulled out one of her treats from her designer brand doggie bag so she could nibble on something. They were stupidly expensive, each treat bag could put food on a struggling families table for a month.

"She's not that bad. At least Ran stopped fucking with everyone's condoms. I was scared I'd have to start hiding my birth control pills up Sanzu's ass or something."

"Speak for yourself. Look what this rat did!"

Rindou held up his hands. All fingers and both thumbs were wrapped in bandage's.

"That's because you're rude to her or Ran."

"It shits in my fucking shoes."

"Pixies craps are no bigger than a chocolate kiss. And her pee puddles only need one sanitizing wipe. Stop being a bitch."

All the younger Haitani did was roll his eyes and continue to push. Why did you both have to come to the dog park when this rat's feet has never touched grass before , let alone dirt. He hated this damn dog and he hated you for getting it...

[veeneris]

DESOLATED SPRING; SUMMER CAME. [suguru geto x fem!reader]

— i. death to the fool. one | two | three || masterlist

summary: suguru had been the first love you'd never gotten over from. so, when left without closure, you'd abandoned sorcery for good. but after paying him a visit at the worst possible time, you agree to go back to him. though, is it really for selfless reasons?

tags: SMUT! minors dni!!, P in V sex, fingering, blowjob, thigh riding, drunk sex (?? kind of), alcohol consumption, some spanking but nothing crazy, allusions to a breeding king, creampie, dom suguru but hes pretty soft just kinda mean, reader is a bit pathetic, suguru male manipulator?? we dont know.

word count: 10k.

n/a: when i tell u i started this over a year ago.. man. time flies. dont know wtf posessed me to write this bc im a nanami girl through and through. also this is my first time actually writing the smut to publish it so i was screeching internally the whole way. anywho !!!! any constructive criticism is appreciated. love yall mwa

Whatever conclusion you would ever get to reach regarding Suguru’s motives didn’t matter. The memory of him snuck through the gaps between your fingers; like emanating water from a fountain you cup with your hands in thirst, or sand sneaking though the needle thin hole at the center of an hourglass. He was but a figure, a dark mass of atoms, faceless, in the distance, whose presence and soul flickers like a candle that's never fully blown. And wonder hits sometimes. It whispers in your ear, drowned in emotion yet dried in hopelessness, “could I have changed this? Could I if, for a minute, I’d glanced back at the melted, petroleum black trail his thoughts dripped of while he walked?” 

Whatever conclusion you were seeking regarding Suguru’s motives didn’t matter. He was gone, left somewhere; the words he’d once pronounced reverberated in your brains, muted harshly by forgetfulness. His hands, once so warm and positively heavy on your shoulders, now felt like the soreness after staying on a plank for a bit too long. And as that movie he’d watched with you said, “his eyes, once so magnetic, now just felt empty.” 

Or at least they did las time you saw him. Who knows about now. Perhaps the wilting of his self was the drought in a blazing summer. Perhaps he didn’t abandon you — the three of you — and he stood somewhere, enjoying a new Sun, imagining your return. 

And oh, such ridiculous thought it was. You sat still; gaze lost in the intricacies of the printed characters which formed the text of one of the many ads in the newsletter. You’d picked it up after some person conveniently forgot it in the seat next to you, as you used the subway to get to your office. There, dark ink which acted like the void Nietzsche described, stared back at you. Whatever shapes that made whatever words were blurry and strange; that which mattered was the figure in pixelated black and white next to them. Familiar, yet someone so different. His smile, once so sweet and even mischievous, now arrogant and malicious. His lips, once made to murmur comforting, sensible thoughts, now grown to affirm bullshit. And yet... 

“Say, I’ve noticed you’re looking quite tired lately...” you absentmindedly comment to an unsuspecting coworker. Of course she has. A pesky little curse has been snaking up her leg for around three weeks now. It’s a grade three at most, but it’s not like you’d do anything about it nowadays. Your days slaying curses were over. 

Mirai is her name. She turns to you in a rather sheepish way, almost ashamed that you noticed the dark circles under the pale concealer she uses. “Ah, well, I’ve had some trouble sleeping lately,” she explains. Under your silent stare, she relents. “I’ve tried to get the doctor to prescribe me some sleeping pills, but you know how they get. With “oh, just your cycle”, and all that...” 

“I see.” You smile sympathetically, feigning coyness as you carefully pluck a certain paper out of your bag. “This may sound kind of crazy, but my roommate was complaining about the same stuff for a while, and she got much better after visiting this guy—” explaining tentatively, holding just the right amount of eye contact. She doesn’t look convinced. “If I’m being honest, I’ve always been rather skeptic, but rumor has it that they’re cutting staff again soon. And since Takeshi said your productivity had gone down these past few months, I thought I’d just let you know that I’m here to...” 

It works. Her throat bobs as she gulps inconspicuously, taking the poster skittishly and checking it on both sides with a flick of her wrist. Her lip twitched. “Look, I’m not sure I—” You interrupt, anxiety in the way you hold her hands easily mistaken for concern. Your pupils, flickering dashingly fast between her own. 

“Please. You know I don’t get along with anyone else here... And besides, I’m worried about you.” You squeeze, fingers warm over her own, eyes full of desperate drive. “I really am worried. The boss has been pretty hard on you lately. Look, I’ll— I’ll go with you, okay? And if it’s useless, then you lose nothing! I don’t want to take any chances...” 

Mirai sighs and fixes you with a resigned look.  

“Alright... If you say so,” she begrudgingly utters. It’s obvious that her accepting the offer is just to please you — or rather, make you shut up. You had that kind of effect in people. Just like Satoru eventually left you be whenever you, once again, refused to take on missions; or maybe the way Shoko stopped calling altogether. 

You smile reassuringly the moment she accepts, and do so once again the moment you find yourselves in front of the Buddhist temple Suguru, ‘the priest’, stays at. The flat, renewed, smooth concrete steps that climb up to the entrance almost seem to gleam under the sun’s white light. And a needle sneaked right in between the rugosities of your brain, prickling right in the memory of Suguru’s complaints about the unkept, cobbled pavements that some temples you’d visited together in missions had. New reminder, perhaps, that whoever took over him after Riko was killed was just some shadow of what he was destined to be, but not someone else entirely. Truth was that a sick sense of jealousy corroded you whenever you thought about it that way... Some girl he’d known for so little, changing all of you, ruining what you had. Ruining what you could’ve been. A dark, unwelcome vine, rotting and dying and desperate to be fed, sliding around the wet walls of your beating, bloody, fleshy engine and squishing hard enough to provoke leakage. Guilt; seeping into your arteries and acting as anesthesia. Emotion, as you bit the inside of the corners of your mouth, pulling at the skin and ripping it., unfeeling, uncaring, when your nervous system strikes back and tries to force you to stop.  

But it’s not the sharp pain that wakes you up, and neither Mirai’s whisper as you stand in an empty room. You didn’t pay much attention to its appearance: three scrolls hanging on a wall caught your eye, though, made the cogs in your brain turn. Death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong. 

You wondered, ironically chastising yourself at the same time, which one of them you aspired to be. A depraved part of you wished to be all three if it meant having Suguru’s eyes on you once again. If not filled with love, at least sparkling in approval. You were a fool, a desperate woman who could not get over her teenage crush. And if fools deserved the cold embrace of death, you wished it to be a result of Suguru’s hands or whatever they were holding. Whether it was a blade to your chest, a poisoned treat, or his fingers squeezing your throat. “You dumb, useless bitch,” he’d seethe, bruising and mean and oh so mockingly. You’d cry, for sure, if he ever looked at you like that. “You left behind sorcery, like a coward would. How does that make you any better than a monkey, hm?” The world feels light, and he’s real and there and it's his words that ache and not his absence. “Fucking whore. Look at yourself. I should end you here and now, throw your corpse somewhere and never look back.” 

And a sick little zap of excitement made you squirm in place. 

“Are you even listening?!” Mirai whisper-yells, slapping your elbow lightly. “Look, I really appreciate your intentions, but those people outside looked so... weird, and this place is genuinely just giving me the creeps—” 

She goes completely silent as the door behind you slides open. And your breath catches in anticipation. Time slows in the moments that followed. The world was sucked in and twisted by a supermassive blackhole that didn’t accept you there. From inside, mere seconds passed; inside your skull, the three years you knew Suguru played on loop for what seemed five times over. Further stood the almost decade after. The eternity without him. 

“Apologies for my delay,” says a familiar voice in a foreign way. You have not looked back yet and know it’s him already. There’s a deepness, smooth and somehow melodic, to the way his vocal cords make noise. It sounds chilly rather than calming, but the fake warmness that decorates his mannerisms is enough to make your belly flutter. “There were urgent matters I was required for.” 

The wooden clacks of his steps are heard as he walks into the room. He doesn’t focus on you — not yet; he’s tranquil as he lays sideways on the room’s decking, then places his elbow on the rest designed for it. He then looks, and you do so too. A black yukata embraces his body, and a green and yellow kasaya drapes over it. His hair is still long (if not even longer), but the part of if that isn’t tied into the bun he always wore falls down his back; his earrings, too, have remained the exact same (two big black circles; earlobes gauged). His face is, perhaps, what’s changed the most yet stayed eerily similar. His factions more mature in the soft lines they draw under his eyes, those tinted a dark chocolate brown you so vividly remember. They have a teasing, mocking but fascinated glint when they land on yours. You bow your head immediately, playing your coyness off as respect. 

“That’s alright... sir,” answers Mirai, imitating your gesture. “So, uh...” She pauses, anxiously turning to face you in a silent scream for help. 

“So, you have trouble sleeping — even more getting out of bed, you’re constantly tired, you have no energy for any physical activity...” he hums, eyes zeroing in the worm shaped curse that coils around her left leg. It tightens, constricts, and the occasional clacking sound its jaw makes sometimes makes your nose scrunch up. Mirai’s eyes, however, open as wide as plates at the accuracy of his description. “I’m assuming I’m correct, yes?” he grins, wide and Chesire cat-like. 

Mirai gapes at him. “Yes.” 

“Hm, just stay still for a second...” Suguru outstretches his hand, eyes lidded as he focuses on the creature. It screeches and writhes, going as far as to try and bite into Mirai’s thigh. It doesn’t work. It folds on itself and constricts into a ball that resembles a magnified marble, tinted forest green and flashing bronze. 

Your coworker gasps as her back straightens. Her eyes look almost starry when she glances back at you. She’s about to open her mouth, when— 

“And you, I’m afraid...” Suguru looks at you, his eyebrows are pinched in a honeyed, fake concern. “The evil that bites at you is a much more complicated thing. I’m afraid I’m in need of a much more powerful ritual.” 

“Uh,” You blink repeatedly. “I’m, uhm... I didn’t come here for... That’s...” 

Terrible? Or rather... Lucky you, ‘to have realized soon enough’? Mirai’s pupils have been glazed over in concern as she stares, surprised by the sudden turn of events. Suguru’s lips spit some excuse that’s as easy to swallow as a berry dipped in chocolate. The three of you walk to the entrance as she thanks the ‘priest’. You don’t have the heart to mutter encouraging words as she grips your hands and thanks you. 

“I’m telling you. It’s worked! You’ll be alright, okay? It’s nothing, I’m positive. You know how these things are always exaggerated. You’re fine,” she repeats. You smile. Your throat has been tied into a knot, your flesh tingles. She mistakes your paleness as fear of the unknown — it is, rather, fear of confrontation. 

“I’ll see you on Monday” is the best you can come up with. “I’m just happy you’re okay... yeah?” 

Whatever Mirai says next escapes you, and in the blink of an eye the sun is setting (early December’s effect, though you had already come in late anyway) and all you see is her back as she walks down the steps to the bottom of the mountain (you can’t hear them anymore. She looks like a grain of rice with that white coat of hers in the distance). You turn back to Suguru. He’s already looking. There’s an eerie silence as, for some reason you silently curse, no one’s outside anymore. 

And he, under your skittish stare, chuckles. He covers his mouth with a sleeve, elegant in his movement, corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement and pupils glittering in a mix of curiosity and excitement, “I’m surprised you’d set up such a twisted show for a mere excuse... You even went as far as to let your friend over there suffer. I wonder for how long.” 

“She’s not my friend.” 

“Oh?” 

He fixes you with a mocking, brief curl of his lip. You shrink into yourself. 

“She’s my coworker,” you murmur, less bravely. 

“I see you’ve stopped considering everyone you interact with a ‘friend’,” he muses.  

Your nose scrunches up in distaste. You didn’t sense real malice in his teasing, but it still made you feel small and funny to look at. “I guess.” 

He pulls out a sanitizing spray. “Since she’s no ‘friend’, I’m assuming you won’t be offended if I clean myself from... her, then. I don’t want a monkey’s stench on me.” 

“Go right ahead.” 

He even hums a little tune while he uses it on his hands and clothes. Sighing happily as he puts it away, he offers you a beaming smile. “Ah, much better! Now, now. As much as I am delighted to see you again, [Name], I’m also curious about... Well, everything, really. Do you really think you need an excuse to come see me?” 

“...Excuse— uh, excuse me?” 

He pouts slightly, brows quivering in a twinge of genuine, though overplayed, emotion. 

“Well, all these years, no news from you... And suddenly you appear with that coworker of yours, as if you’re not perfectly capable of exorcising that little curse yourself.” 

You swallow. “I’m not an exorcist anymore,” you say, almost embarrassed under the wary façade. “She wanted to try this, try you, and asked me to accompany her,” you lie. 

“Not even a birthday letter, I received from you. Or Christmas postcards. Or a New Years text. I was really sad about it for quite some time, you know?” he continues. “Ah... And even then, you still came back, after so long. Did you assume I’d ignore you? Are you uncomfortable in my presence?” 

‘I was hoping that you wouldn’t,’ you wanted to say. “As I said, Mirai wanted me to come.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am not,” you huff. “Curses are none of my business anymore.” 

“What about sorcerers? Are they still any of your business?” 

A beat of silence. A rather awkward one. 

“They handle themselves just fine without me.” 

“...I see,” he says, tongue clicking. He sounds disappointed. There was something dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he refrained from continuing. The disappointment finds itself contagious when it curls in your stomach as you realize his words sting. “Say, why don’t you come in for some tea? We should catch up.” 

As tempted as you are to accept, there’s a strange feeling about him. You open your mouth to say no, when he positions himself behind you and gently rests his hands on your shoulders. 

“Come on, [Name]...” he sighed, “I’ve missed you so much. Do you know how embarrassing it was to pull that stunt in front of your friend?” 

“Coworker,” you correct lowly. 

“Your coworker, then” he sighs. “Still... Please? Just for an hour. I’ll take you home right after if you want me to.” 

“I’d rather you stay far, far away from my house.” 

Unsure, you have no time to deny as he pushes you lightly in front of him, making you walk. And honestly, you would’ve ended up accepting anyway (even if you’d never admit it to yourself now that you could blame him), but in his pleading, you found Satoru’s playful pushiness rather than Suguru’s temperance. You didn’t know how to feel about it yet. 

You’d forgotten how persuasive Suguru could be. One cup of tea turned to a finished teapot, and somehow that turned into three glasses of whiskey with a big, nice ice cube. You drink, content with the warmth in your stomach. 

“Isn’t this a sin?” you question when he follows your same action. “Gotta protect the Buddhist façade, oh priest...” 

“Not quite a sin. As long as I don't drink excessively, it should be fine.” He shrugs. “Not that I particularly care, with all due respect... But you know how much I hate hangovers, anyway.” 

You hum. In all honesty, everything about the past hour had been, and still was, quite awkward and weird. You sit on an elegant couch, some feet away from Suguru. There’s a large coffee table in which sit the empty teapot, cups, and a now empty bottle of blue label whiskey. Expensive stuff. You’d prefer the humble company, though. Or would you? 

“So...” he breaks the silence, turning his body towards yours, resting his face on an arm propped up on the back pillow of the couch. “How come you left sorcery?” 

The gulp of whiskey you down feels thicker than maple syrup. Almost chokes you, too. You reply sharply, throat burning, before you can actually think of a response, “I never felt like it was for me anyway.” 

“We both know that’s a lie.” He stares. “You know you’re so much better than some monkey like the one you brought today...” he goes on, apparently disgusted. “You could keep them like pathetic little pets if you so wished.” 

“That’s weird. I’ll pass.” 

“You used to enjoy that,” he muses mockingly. “Being a pet, I mean.” 

The atmosphere was filled with discomfort once again. At least for you. Suguru’s lidded gaze was teasing as he, too, finished his glass. 

“Something the matter?” he asks, nonchalant. Fucking asshole. He gets up and walks towards the alcohol cabinet. “It’s not like I’m making it up.” He sneaks behind you, bottle of strawberry tequila in hand – your favorite.  

“Yeah, well, not anymore... I’m no one’s pet,” you awkwardly cut him off. “I don’t like where this is going.” 

“Going where?” he muses. He’s not keen on addressing the elephant in the room. 

You are not, either. So, you shush and mutter, “Where’s the shot glasses?” 

You knew mixing strong drinks wasn’t a good idea. Being there wasn’t either. Why the hell not? 

So, he chuckles and groans when he gets up once again, grabbing the glasses. 

He reaches over your shoulder to place them on the table, then wraps his arms around your neck, bending so that his breath is on your ear. 

Your world feels fuzzy and your senses are slowed. Though, you’re pretty sure Suguru’s the same. “I’ve missed you, [Name],” he murmurs once more. This time, it feels more real. “And now you’re back... I can’t help wondering if you’ve missed me, too.” 

He nuzzles your neck and his hot breath fans your neck. You’re starting to sweat. “I have,” you sheepishly admit, and feel him grinning against you. 

You fell right into his trap, like he wanted you to. 

“What should we do about that, hm?” he murmurs. He then licks a stripe up your neck, and whispers right into your ear. “I’m not letting you leave again, [Name].” 

You’re not sure you want to leave, either, as his hands start trekking lower and lower, unbuttoning your shirt without resistance and attempting to sneak underneath clumsily. You’re both too drunk to think straight.  

“Please,” you stammer, chest heaving as you finally feel his soft hands on your skin, “please, let me kiss you.” 

“Fuck, love, I want nothing more.” 

He circled around the couch as even in his poor judgment he could tell that jumping over it and potentially cracking his skull on the table was probably not the hottest thing to do. He grabbed your waist once he reached you, and flipped your positions, making you straddle him. You could feel his hard-on pressing on your thigh. 

“You see what you do to me, hm? And you haven’t even touched me yet, sweetheart,” he whispers against your neck kissing down up until your collarbone, where he left a little love-bite. The loud whimper you make embarrassed you. “I’ve missed your precious voice. No one else’s compares, my sweet.” 

You can’t take it anymore and roughly press your mouth against his. His tongue licks your lower lip and slips past, moving along yours sensually. Taking your hips, he makes you grind against him. 

“Ah!” 

“You look so beautiful,” he whimpers. His hair sticks to his forehead and his face is flushed a nice shade of pink. His lidded gaze, both hazed by the drink and the lust, pretty much just looks like heart-eyes. “God, [Name], you don’t know how many times I’ve replayed our tapes, just to feel something...” 

That makes your hips twitch. “You greedy f-fucker,” you huff, pulling on his collar to get a good angle of his neck, “you kept almost all of them. I’ve had to rewatch the same two for years.” You attack right under his jugular, biting to keep the flesh in place and sucking. 

He moans, throwing his head back, and spanks your ass, moving his hands to grab it. “Sorry, babe,” he chuckles, “the camcorder was mine— ngh!” he stops when he feels you grab his dick through his clothes, lifting yourself up from his lap for your arm to fit. 

“What’s wrong, Suguru?” you murmur, biting his earlobe. “Cat got your tongue?” 

“A bitch, more like,” he retorts, letting out a low laugh. One of his hands moved up to your neck, “And here I was, trying to be nice today and give you a warm welcome. Don’t you think I’ve let you play around long enough, hm? Or has our time apart clouded your judgement?” You pant. His hold wasn’t too hard. You maintain eye contact. He wore a smug smirk now, his eyes fiery. When you shake your head no, he snorts. “Use your words, love. I can’t understand you otherwise.” 

“No, sir, I’m sorry,” you utter, submitting immediately. His eyes glint. You gave him what he wanted without resistance. 

“Good girl,” he loosens his grip, “you don’t need to apologize.” He pulls you close again for a wet kiss, biting your lower lip.  “Now take those clothes off for me.” 

You eagerly obey, prying them off carelessly and throwing them off to the floor. As you did so, Suguru began playing with your chest, pinching your nipples playfully, twisting them harshly to make you hiss in pain. As an apology, or maybe because he just felt like it, he took it between his lips, licking it hungrily, nipping once or twice. You shivered in pleasure as he did so, mewling for more. He manhandled you to lie you down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Why are these still on, hm?” he asked teasingly, tracing his finger around the lining of your panties, snapping the waistband. “Fuck, you’re really wet,” he comments casually as he eyes the darker patch on the fabric, prying your legs apart and resting his cheek on one of your bent knees. “How long has it been since you last got some dick?” 

“None of your business,” you spit. He frowns, and slaps your clit harshly, making you whine. “...A year and a half,” you admit, mortified. 

“See? It wasn’t that hard,” he snickers condescendingly, his fingers playing with your cunt over your panties. 

“Oh... Just fucking take those off.” 

“Be patient, dear.” 

“I’ve been masturbating thinking about you for ten years, I think that’s long enough,” you say, desperate. He smirks, pressing light kisses over your knee and inner thigh. 

“I know, my love. Me too,” he murmurs lovingly, finally pulling off your panties. Toying with your folds, he flicks your clit gently, making you moan. “Why don’t I prepare you for your reward?” 

“Please.” 

He presses a finger in, then a second one. In and out, curling them at the right spot. You’re on cloud nine, one of your hands toying with your breasts, the other gripping his forearm. 

“You’re taking it so well, my dear,” he praises lovingly. “Such a good girl. Keep those legs open for me. Mhm, just like that. So pretty.” 

He speeds up, his palm rubbing your clit just right. Your head spins from the pleasure and the booze. “D-don’t stop, Suguru, ah!” 

“I can feel you tighten up, baby. Are you close, hm? You wanna cum for me?” 

“Y-yes, yes, fuck, please—” 

He chuckles mockingly, and pulls his fingers out. “That’s too bad. You’re only cumming on my cock today.” 

You whimper, staring with lust as he strips naked. His boxers remain, a very visible hardness underneath. You can even see the precum leaking through them. Your nails softly run down his abdomen to the waistband, sending him a pleading look. His look is of approval, so you slowly pull them down. The sight makes you bite your lip to suppress a moan. The body’s as light as the rest of his skin, with some angry veins noticeable; the head is of a light shade of pink, dripping clear precum. It’s bigger than average. Around, maybe, 16cm? Girthy as well. As you stare hungrily, he snorts. 

“You can stop drooling now, love,” he rasps with sarcasm. With a hand, he holds one of your legs apart, gripping tightly the flesh of your thigh. With the other, he begins to pump himself. “You want it inside you, huh?” He mocks as he sees you start to get antsy. 

“I thought you were trying to be nice today,” you complain, clicking your tongue. 

“Changed my mind when you started acting like a cunt.” 

He presses the tip to your folds, collecting your wetness. A silence filled with expectation settles. 

(In)Conveniently, a buzzing sound came from the pocket of your jeans, awakening you from the drunken trance. You groan. 

[Three missed calls from: ‘Kikiii<3’] 

“Just ignore it,” Suguru sighs when he sees you unlock the screen. 

Kikiii<3: bitch where u at?????? 

Kikiii<3: ur weirdo rich hot friend jst showed up 

Kikiii<3: and wants to talk to u like....... rn 

“Who is it anyway?” Geto asks impatiently, staring at you as you frown at the screen. 

“My roommate,” you mumble out, feeling yourself slowed down due to the drinks. 

And, as for the friend... The one and only Satoru Gojo. Fuck. Oh, fuck, shit, fuck. 

“Uh–” Suddenly, you’re hyperaware of the situation you’re in. Suguru’s dick about to enter you, his hands holding your hips. An impending doom, hung above your head like a ticking grandfather clock, getting close to the song at midnight. Once it sounds, you’d be back at the start of a new day, a new grief — and it was sure to be hellish. You push his arms off, sobered up. “I’m sorry, this is so sudden. I have to go.” 

“What’s wrong, my sweet?” he hums as you stand up, clearly slow and still on the piss. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” 

“It’s, uhm...” Your head spins as you put your underwear back on in a rush and hop to put your pants. “Nothing to worry about, I just have to leave.” 

“What...?” he scoffs, confused. He, too, slowly begins to dress up. Messily. 

Kikiii<3: FFS DONT LEAVE ME ON SEEN HES LIKE SCARY MAD NOW 

Kikiii<3: ur ruining my chances w him hes just staring at me..... ominously......... 

Kikiii<3: what if he thinks im ugly:( 

You: no he doenst .tell him to come pick me uu if hes o worried 

Kikiii<3: uhhhh [nickname] r u drunk 

You: maybe :3ccc 

You: jst tell him to  come 

Kikiii<3: girl istg T_T ts so awkward i will kms in front of u 

You: [location in real time] 

“It was nice seeing you,” you hiccup, doing your best to stop your mind from swirling as you button your shirt. “Will probably be the last time. I don’t think this is healthy for either of us,” you stumble, grabbing your purse and your jacket with one arm, holding the shirt’s collar shut with your free hand. 

He frowns and straightens, taking two menacing steps. The air stills. 

“Last time?” he smirks. “Don’t lie to yourself like that... You know you want more. You’ll be back here sooner than later, dear.” 

As you walk away, he follows. Steps echoing in the long hallways of the building, dim city lights seep through the windows and guide your way. He speaks, if anything calmly, calling you – demanding you to turn around. To talk to him. Saying your name, so sweetly – calling you by the dumb nicknames he used to. Never an idiot as much as a love fool, you identified a certain passive aggressiveness in his tone. One that proved to be dangerous, leaning on threatening. 

He, however, did not attack. God bless Ballantine's. Nor did he chase you once you finally reached the concrete stairs leading down the hill. You turn one last time. He rests his body lazily on one of the pillars, gaze pinned on your figure, lustful and sleepy. He had always been a lightweight, quiet and horny when he was on the piss. You swear he stared right at your ass the whole time you walked downstairs. 

(He had a wolfish grin on his face, too, as he licked his lips and dragged himself back inside.) 

Sat at the last step, you stared right at the floor for what seemed like an eternity. Visiting Suguru felt like relapsing — because it was, probably. You now felt ridiculous for huffing at Shoko when she didn’t quit smoking when you did, as she had agreed to. You hadn’t talked to her in a while. You missed her.  

A thought flashed you when you saw (one of) Gojo’s (many) black, luxurious car(s) slowly pull up. The Six Eyes. He’d probably seen everything. How to look at him now? Your phone buzzed with Keiko’s messages, full of concern. 

You: its all good. gojos here. idk if ill sleep at home today. ily bye 

Kikiii<3: WILL U STOP PLAYING NONCHALANT IM WORRIED SICK 

You: sybau 

You: ill tell u when i see u 

Kikiii<3: damn ok u fuckin cunt (pls b safe ilysm) 

You didn’t bother replying. The car door shut with force, and now there was a very angry, very scary Satoru frowning down at you. His breath was loud. He was visibly trying to relax. Two fragments of sky stared at you from beneath his sunglasses. 

“...Hi, ‘Toru...” you greet sheepishly, hunched over and unable to look him in the eye. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he spits. “Are you a toddler? Do I have to check on you every three days so you don’t pull moronic stunts like this, huh?” 

Your lip begins to tremble. Nothing hurt more than your best friend’s disappointment. He’s visibly shook. He sounds hurt, too. Gojo’s a cheery guy, almost childish at times. He rarely snapped. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You’re— Ugh...” He rubs his temples. A hand of his pulls his hair back. You don’t miss the way he mouths an insult under his breath. “Just get in the car. You won’t fucking guess what.” 

He helps you stand up when he sees your legs shake. It's cold outside and you still wore work clothes, thin jacket rendered useless. “C’mere,” he mutters, gently pulling you up. You step arrhythmically, shoes loudly clanking. His were lighter as he steadies the pace. He opens the passenger seat’s door, sits you down, and puts on your seatbelt. Not ten seconds after, he’s behind the steering wheel. 

“Can I sleep at your place today?” you asked, breaking the silence. The engine replies before him. 

“It’ll be for the best,” he says, ominously. His mouth opens, just to sigh shut. “[Name], you couldn’t have picked a worst fucking day if you tried.” 

In order to be safe, tall structures such as skyscrapers or rollercoasters need to be flexible. Wobble when strong winds hit them, stay flexible so they can alleviate wind pressure, avoiding crumbling down, and ensure they don’t snap under force. In a way, you believed sorcery was the same. It’s a wild world. Corrupt, strange, full of resentments that more often than not lasted centuries. But it remained a secret, an archaic force that has not yet turned completely despotic in nature. That does not, however, mean that some stop trying to break that thin, weak twig that can make everything topple over. People don’t count on the younger branches being the hardest to rip, though. They hold on to the trunk, green and bleeding (or perhaps crying?) underneath the fresh bark. While some are rotten and tired, as sturdy or high up as they may look at first, it’s the apparently feeble ones that hold on to their loyalties with claws and fangs. 

The ride was silent and frankly, awkward. He'd dropped the bomb and now was letting you process it — make sure your ears didn’t ring from the explosion so you could listen to his next words. Once again, it seemed that whatever conclusion you may have attempted to finally reach would never come. Closure used to be a rock you had to fetch, but the years you spent eroding memories from replaying them had eventually turned it into thin grains of sand you couldn’t quite keep in your palms. 

“Suguru has declared war and he’s launching an attack on Christmas,” you repeat, lips dry. Satoru’s eyes are focused on the road. You know damn well he could stare straight at you and still see where he’s going. Goes to show he can’t even look at you. “Today? Why... Like, what triggered it? I’m... this is—” 

“...I’ll tell you more about it at home.” His head tilts towards your lap. Your lap? You look down. Your phone sits there, a couple more concerned messages from Keiko were the only notifications that you had received. 

You didn’t have to overthink it. He was obviously implying that someone may have access to your phone, and therefore your mic. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. You were aware that most higher-ups (or ‘stuck up senile fucks’, as Satoru often called them in private) didn’t really agree with your friend’s... orthodox methods. Still. As far as to spy on him? 

You just hum in affirmation. 

“Satoru...” 

“Yeah?” 

“I wanna throw up.” 

You can see his eye twitch under his sunglasses. 

It wasn’t long before you arrived at his house. Nowadays he often stayed in the room assigned to him in the school, but his massive fucking mansion didn’t just vanish. There you were, knelt before the toilet in one of the (at the very least) four bathrooms in his house. You puked. It was basically crystal clear, since it was mostly alcohol. Satoru stroked your back with care. As much as the sight wasn’t a nice one, there wouldn’t be much of a difference even if he stayed outside the room. He oftentimes swore you were the only person in the world that often significantly annoys him, yet he still loves. 

“[Name], did you even have dinner beforehand?” he asks between one of your breaks. Your head spins again, ethanol doing its silly little magic. You manage to shake your head no, and he sighs. “That’s fine. I’ll just order some.” 

“M-my wallet—” You suppress a gag. “It’s in my purse.” 

“My treat. You just, uh... you keep going, yeah?” He pats your back encouragingly, awkwardly choosing his words. He never knew how to act around people that weren’t sober. 

“Remember that time when we got drunk and you accidentally sent three cars flying?” you giggle dumbly, then immediately regret it when you retch. 

“You keep going, I said,” he huffs, embarrassed about it still. That was the first and only time he tried alcohol. He made you swear to never tell.  

You throw up again, tilting over the edge of the WC. Satoru’s careful hands peel your hair out of your sweaty face, softly rubbing your back still. 

“I-I think I’m done,” you sentence after some seconds of silence. You straighten your back. He silently hands you a glass of sink water that you tiredly gulp down.  

“You sure you’re good?” he checks. You nod. “Alright, let’s go sit on the couch.” 

He ordered some food at your favorite restaurant while you washed your face and changed to comfier clothes. You intentionally left your phone on his bedside table. Satoru soon follows and leaves it there as well, locking the master bedroom’s door as you both sit on the couch. 

Still somewhat dizzy, you sat up. You wore the same old clothes you’d left there over the years. 

“It’s been a while since I last stayed here,” you mutter thoughtfully. He nods. There’s a veil of melancholy that drapes over the both of you.  

Usually, people refer to warm blankets as comfortable, but when summer burns your back, comfort is brought by a chilly embrace. Perhaps that’s why neither of you had chosen to really get over what happened. Something about staying sad felt like a nice breeze under the scorching sun. 

In all honesty, though, you prefer to know that some things had gotten better. For the seven months after Suguru left, you cried. Either hidden away in bathrooms (sometimes the school’s ones), or hidden away in Satoru’s guest room. He used to stroke your hair with a distant look in his eyes. As much as you sobbed or sniffled, he remained completely still. As much as you loved 'Toru, you weren’t sure if a Gojo’s heart was big enough to shed tears. You for sure knew that Satoru’s brain wasn’t able to fathom the thought. He could dissociate, keep quiet, pop a headache that lasted days — but since the day he was born, Satoru knew (or rather, had been made aware) that his eyes only served one purpose: to see. See far beyond what any other human, sorcerer or not, could imagine. His beautiful blue irises never got enough rest to afford some tears. The six eyes user couldn’t cry. 

He seemed distant once more, deep in thought. Not in the rattling way, like he’d been all those years ago, but rather deep in thought. As if... considering his trust in you. 

“I’m sorry for going there,” you mumble, unsettled by his silence. “It was so stupid.” 

“Stupid doesn’t even cut it, [Name],” he sighs. He hastily takes off his sunglasses and leaves them on the table. He hunches over, elbows on his knees, and groans into his hands, which rub his face and temples. “You think I haven’t been tempted to pull the same stunt? I didn’t, though. You could’ve resisted it too if you stopped pitying yourself so much. And lo and behold, you go right back to him like an idiot because you want to get dicked down. It’s unbelievable. I didn’t question your choice to leave sorcery,” (Lies. He had. Numerous times, even,) “but this is not just about curses anymore. Suguru is about to commit mass murder if we do nothing.” 

You keep quiet as he scolds you. AS shameful as it is, there’s nothing to say — you know he’s right. With a sigh, curling up, you hug your knees and look at him. “So, what’s everyone planning to do?” 

“Half of us will stay in Shinjuku, the others will stand guard in Kyoto.” 

“That’s awfully simple.” 

“Aren’t you a smart cookie?” he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “We know nothing else, other than what he told us.” 

“Mmh. Guess that’s your best chance...” 

He frowns under his blindfold. You can tell by the faint crease over where his brow must be. 

“Your?” 

“Huh?” 

“You won’t help?” he says with an accusatory tone. 

“Uh...” You inevitably look down. Being called out was always embarrassing. 

“Suguru wants to commit mass murder, and you still assume it’s none of your business? What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” he snaps. “For the love of—” he groans, and hunches over, hands covering his face, fingers combing through his hair as he straightens once again. “This is fucking it, [Name].” 

“It, what?” you frown. “I think I made my decision clear, like over a decade ago. I’m not a sorcerer.” 

“But you are. Only sorcery can stop him, and we are short-staffed. You know what that means? Civilians, dead and buried. Dozens, if not hundreds. Defenseless. Mauled. Possessed. Disemboweled. How selfish can you be?!” 

Satoru was an independent man. He let you be, in his own way. As much as he was persistent, he wasn’t necessarily pedantic. Now, though, he glared at you, his back straightened and shoulders stiff. And he wasn’t wrong. How selfish can you be? How lazy? To be able to convince yourself it’s not your business? 

“So, you want me to fight?” you sighed. He stared, silent, as the cogs in his brain stopped and clicked, the light bulb turning on. 

“Actually... There’s something you could do.” 

The morning after, your head felt like someone had drilled a hole through your eye socket right into your skull. Hungover and weak, and lacking any sort of motivation, you sat in silence as Satoru’s car parked at the bottom of the hill. A long, snaky set of stairs lead to the top, torii gates preceding the ascension.  

“I bet most are already there,” Satoru said, breaking the ice once you both stepped out of the vehicle. A beeping sound came from it once he finally shut the engine off. “As always, expect it to be a fucking bore.” 

After ten minutes of walking upstairs in silence, and some more of you anxiously staring at the building, Gojo eventually slid open the door to the room where the attendees sat. They turned their heads, unimpressed by his tardiness, but froze upon the sight of you. 

“Sorry for being late,” Satoru smirked, “I wasn’t on my own, so blame them.” 

He briefly turned to you, softening the corners of his mouth into an encouraging smile. 

“Hi... It’s been a while,” you muttered, feeling small under their stares. Wordlessly, Nanami pulls a chair next to him so you can sit. The scraping against the floor sounds like a screech. “Thanks,” you sit. He makes a reassuring hum, but doesn’t smile. 

The meeting was nothing short of awkward. No one was sure about what you guys were supposed to do — you went in circles: was there a chance to sabotage the plan? If so, how? Could Suguru boycott yours? Would he? What intel did you have on him? Eventually, Utahime slumped forward, head on her hands. 

“I think I have an idea on how to gather more information,” Satoru says. “That’s why I brought [Name] in the first place.” 

“Jeez, what are you implyi—?” 

“I’m not implying anything. I think we should send them to pretend to be on Geto’s side,” he spat. A long pause. 

“Okay,” Mei Mei stated, resting her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands. “How would that even work? He must assume [Nickname] hasn’t cut all ties with us… For all he knows, they’re just another sorcerer. Some sort of puppy love that ended almost a decade ago won’t cloud his judgement.” 

You clear your throat. “So, yeah, about that... I, uh, may have paid him a visit yesterday.” 

Shoko, who was quietly listening in, suddenly coughed in shock. 

“WHAT?!” Utahime sits up like a light bolt, slamming her palms on the table. Ijichi flinches, and Yaga makes a sound that sounds like a sigh, a whine, and a groan, all at once. “YOU DID WHAT?!” 

“I-I didn’t know what he was up to!” you stammer. The room was tense, formalities broken, and Satoru sat in front of you, arms crossed and leaned back in a relaxed way. He wasn’t speaking up. ‘Defend yourself’ was written all over his face (at least in the subtle frown he wore... You couldn’t really see his eyes). “So, uh, I saw an ad for some weird Buddhist cult, and his photo was printed on it, and, uh, you know… I… I got curious...” 

“So that’s how he’s been gathering curses this whole time?” Mei Mei places a hand under her chin. “Smart move. No wonder he’s managed to keep a low profile... And made a living for so long.” 

Nanami sighs, “What’s done it’s done. Let’s just focus on how to move forward,” he interrupts. It’s rather cold, but you can tell he’s just trying to cut you some slack. “Is he expecting to see you again?” 

‘You know you want more.’ You hear inside your head. 

“I… guess so? He seemed like it, yeah. I did tell him to piss off before I left, though, so—” 

“I mean, you went right back to him after such a long time. It won’t surprise him if you show up there again,” Shoko states, aloof. It’s her own unique way of basically saying that what you did was pathetic. 

“Ieiri’s right,” Yaga sentences. “Your actions are questionable, to say the least... All we can do now is try to turn them around in our favor.” 

At six o’clock sharp, you stood firmly where you were the day before. Anxiety gnawed at you. You’d begged Satoru to keep an eye out for Keiko — probably the most consistent bond in your life as it is, as sad as it may sound, and also the most vulnerable if Suguru goes off the rails. Gojo, clearly not too happy, had accepted in the end. 

You kept your best poker face as the lady in front of you gave you a once over. “[Name] [Last name]?” she asked. You nodded, about to give her a response, “Master Geto told me to expect you. Come with me.” 

She looked stunning in her purple dress, and her words only made you feel more self-conscious. You didn’t even look formal — you'd grabbed some jeans and a wooly jumper and focused the rest of your energy on praying the whole time you were getting to your destination. Her judgmental side eye as you walked quietly behind her was more than reasonable, or so you thought. Not even twenty-four hours earlier, you’d stormed off hastily, promising to never come back. Maybe you should’ve grabbed a clown wig as an accessory. 

The woman paused her walking before an oddly modest wooden door to some room and knocked. After a brief pause, she solemnly opened the door. “Master Geto—” 

“What now, Manami?” Suguru’s hunched figure groaned, as he sat before a desk. “I can't believe I still have to go through all this paperwork... Monkey bullshit, all of it.” 

“[Name]’s here.” 

His back suddenly straightened, and he turned in disbelief. When your gazes clashed and you pried yours away, a big, mocking grin made its way towards his lips. “Wow... new record, sweetheart.” 

“...I’ll leave you two alone,” Manami utters awkwardly, walking backwards to shut the door again. She was gone before you could thank her. 

Suguru hums as he turns his chair. This seemed to be his room. Large, king-sized bed, even larger window, desk, comfy chair, built-in wardrobe... The place wasn’t as absurdly huge as you had expected Suguru’s bedroom to be. It wasn’t small by any means, either, but as elegant as it looked, it still had some coziness to it. Nice surprise coming from him.  

You expect him to start the conversation. However, he doesn’t speak. He sits smugly, manspreading, elbow placed on the chair’s armrest, head tilted sideways as he stares intently. 

“...Uh, good evening,” is all you manage to muster. “Why was that lady expecting me?” 

“I already told you. I knew you’d be back,” he scoffs, grin on his face. You can’t decide whether to smack it off or kiss it away. “Even then, I must say you’ve exceeded my expectations. I thought it’d be at least three or four days... You really haven’t changed.” 

You shrug awkwardly. “I can leave if you want...” 

“No. Stay right there.” His brows furrow, and a cold stare pins you down. As you involuntarily step back, he seems to relax, and his voice softens. “Please. We can dine together. My treat?” 

“...Fine.” 

He grins mischievously, “Good, ‘cause we already have a reservation! I told Manami to call the restaurant as soon as you arrived.” 

Cunning asshole... You can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face. He hasn’t changed that much. 

“Is it a fancy place? I have nothing to wear.” 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, dear. I already picked out something for you to wear.” He hums. You couldn't tell if he was being loving or condescending. 

“Listen, I... I wanna apologize for yesterday.” You scratch your neck. “Uhm, stuff happened, but I shouldn’t have left so suddenly.” 

His look pierces you, as calm as his composure is. He reads you like a book, and knowing you won’t say nothing more, he sighs. 

“It’s fine. I’m not mad.” He steps closer to you, and envelopes you in a warm embrace. One you gladly return. “You don’t know how much I’ve been yearning for you this entire time, [Name]. I know... I know I was the one who left, and I’m sorry. I didn’t even give you a chance, or a real explanation. I swear I’ll answer any of your questions tonight.” 

You take a breath in, smelling his clothes. Not even his scent had changed. Clean, soapy, always with a bit of a sandalwood hint. 

“Tonight? At dinner you mean?” you muster, putty in his hold. His chest vibrates with a low ‘mhm’. “Why not now?” 

He lets out a low chuckle, “Because now that we’re alone, sweetie...” his hands run down your body, settling on your waist. You slowly pull a bit away from him, as his stare turns hungry, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. The atmosphere takes a very drastic turn. “While I do have a client in around an hour, I thought we could finish what we started yesterday.” 

It’s like a switch has been turned on. Well, scratch that. You’re turned on now. That’s kind of pathetic. What is this, Pavlov’s bell? His touch means ‘get wet’? Well, shit. It works. Why do your thoughts rush so much? Are you really gonna get shy at this very moment? You were this close to having sex yesterday! Well, the alcohol did some numbers on you, but he clearly didn’t regret a thing and, well, truth be told, you could say the same. 

It wasn’t long before he made you kneel before him, saying he deserved a proper apology. You’d clicked your tongue, but obeyed anyway, taking him in your hand and slowly pumping him once. He was already hard in your grasp, and your hand motion pulled back his foreskin, which revealed an already leaking tip. His hand caressed your cheek, thumb pressing against your lower lip. When you silently took his finger into your mouth, he smiled smugly, pleased. It makes a popping sound when he pulls it out. 

“Are you going to be nice today?” you tease. 

“Who said you could talk?” he chastises, clicking his tongue. “Be a dear and open up for me. Just like that...” 

He grabs you by the hair gently, never one to tug on it. He places his tip near your lips, looking at you right in the eye, smug. He always did this, waiting for you to act like a dog with a bone and reach for his cock yourself. It was just another game to him, to relish in the position of power. Supporting yourself by gripping his thigh, you follow his lead and lick a stripe up his dick, from the base to the tip. He guides your head so that you take him all at once, and a pornographic moan of your name emerges from his throat. It’s good motivation, you think, pushing yourself further so he hits the back of your throat. Failing to suppress your gag reflex, you cough once as he slowly moves your head back a bit. Fuck, it’s been a while since your last blowjob. 

“I’m alright, Suguru,” you utter. “Don’t tell me you’ve softened up...” 

He chuckles, taking up on your challenge, his hold on your hair firmer, “Never.” 

His eyes crinkle with a satisfied smile when he forces you down his cock in one go. You whine around it, tears on the corners of your eyes, not once breaking eye contact. “Such a pretty fucking whore. Is this where you belong? Hm?” he purrs. You let him guide your head up and down his shaft, timing your breaths so you don’t choke again. “Ah...! I asked you a question, love. Or is your mouth too full to answer?” he taunts. 

It’s not long before he’s fucking your face passionately, hips twitching, balls hitting your chin, your nose right below his navel. And he whines. No growling or grunting like some others who repress themselves. Suguru was always noisy in bed, both vocally and in his rough but meticulous ways. You prayed that no one came near the door to hear you two. 

He pulls out suddenly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I was getting close,” he responds simply, tugging on your arm to get you to stand up. Leaving a wet kiss on your lips, making sure to nip at your lower lip, he mutters a “Take your clothes off, will you?” as he completely removes his yukata, folding it as neatly as he can and leaving it on his desk. 

He admires from the bed, sitting in a manspread and pulled-down boxers as your hastily throw your t-shirt over your head and jump out of your jeans (to which he giggles a bit. Cock rock hard twitching when you roughly undo the clasp of your bra, he makes sure to slowly fist it, as if he could possibly lose his erection with such a wonderful sight in front of him. He taps his thigh twice, and you obediently straddle it. “Should I take my panties off?” you ask. “I fucking hate the word panties. It sounds so unserious.” 

He snorts. “Yeah, go ahead and take those ‘panties’ off.” 

“Piss off,” you huff at his mocking tone. He just smirks and watches you discard the last piece of clothing you had left. 

“You know what I want you to do. Right, sweetheart?” He takes your arm and pulls you back to your place on his thigh. You’re skin to skin now. He leaves quick pecks on your neck. “C’mon. Ride my thigh.” 

You move your hips a bit, wetness squelching underneath you. “Suguru...” you murmur. Your hands are on your shoulders, and so is your head, face nuzzled on the crook of his neck. He takes one of your hands and places it on his dick. “Motherfucker, making me do all the work,” you click your tongue. 

“Watch your mouth, darling,” he warns softly, “or there won’t be any work for you to do.” 

“S’that a threat?” you question. “You want this as much as I do.” 

“Clearly, I have more restraint,” he says. He’s mean without violence. He’s poison without sting. He’s taking your hip and gripping tight. “Who said you could stop? Get a move on or you won’t get fucked at all.” 

You whimper, moving faster. You can feel your wetness pooling beneath you, staining Suguru’s boxers. Your hand fists his cock, and you take the liberty to bite his shoulder gently. He hums in pleasure, slapping your ass once. 

“Good girl,” he praises. “You want it inside, don’t you? I can feel your clit throbbing. You’re so wet... Filthy slut. Bet you’re enjoying this. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” 

“A-am not,” you whine. “Fuck, Suguru, please—” 

“Stop using my name,” he grunts. He’s slick as well, your hand easily pumping up and down as he continuously leaked precum. “That’s not how you call me.” 

“...Sir,” you moan. “Sir, please take me already.” 

He flips you over in the blink of an eye, manhandling you on all fours, a hand restraining both of yours behind your back, the other pinning your neck down. You look up at him pleadingly through messy strands of hair over your eyes. Freeing your neck, he brushes them away from your face. 

“You’re still on birth control, aren’t you?” he asks. “I kind of forgot to ask yesterday.” 

“Yeah, I am. Just put it i— Oh!” the stretch makes you hiss. He waits for a few seconds until you relax again. He slowly but surely keeps going. “A-ah! Sir!” 

“Almost there, sweetheart— You’re tight, shit—” 

When he’s finally all the way in, you both sigh out in pain and pleasure. He gives you some seconds to relax before he starts moving, letting out some moans of your name as he did so. His pace hurried and you bit the pillow, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. He grabs a handful of your ass and fondles with it for a bit, before changing his course of action and lowering it to your sensitive clit instead. You left a loud gasp as he began rubbing it. 

“[Name], ah—” he lets out. “You’re squeezing me so tight, you whore,” he spat. “Dirty bitch.” 

Your voice is strained. “I’m yours, Sir, I-I'm all yours.” 

“That, you are,” he chuckles darkly, spanking you once as he speeds up his pace, thrusting harder into you. “You’ll always be. Mine to use. Mine to break.” 

He rubs your clit faster, relishing in your pretty noises. “M’close. S-sir, please.” 

“Awh, do you wanna get there, yeah?” he snickers. “You’re so pathetic. I’d be disgusted if I didn’t like you so much.” He speeds up his pace even more, letting go of your wrists to grab your waist, left hand still between your legs. “Beg for it, slut.” 

“Please, Sir, please... I’m s-so close! Please!” 

He whines loudly, and you feel his pace start to become irregular. “So am I, love,” he lets out. “Fuck, I missed being inside you,” he huffs. “Where do you want it?” 

“Inside,” you plead. He twitches. 

“Ah, yeah? Want my load inside you? Is this your kink coming back again, hm?” You nod furiously, not bothering to bite down on the pillow anymore as you scream ‘yes’ over and over. “Cum for me, pretty girl.” 

The coil inside you snaps as you cream all over him, moaning his name loudly. He follows some seconds later, thrusting one last time as he fills you up. 

For some seconds, there’s a deafening silence. He doesn’t waste a second as he slowly pulls out and fetches a towel. He massages your sore thighs as you lay there in silence, blissed. 

“While I’d love to stay,” he utters, cleaning you thoroughly. “I must go soon.” 

You give him a disappointed look, and he bends to give your cheek a soft kiss. 

“Whatever,” you murmur. 

“I’ll make it up to you tonight. All of it. I promise. I’ll pick you up at nine.” 

Sooner rather than later, you’re fully dressed and walking down the stairs of the temple, legs still a bit shaky. Suguru’s assistant had handed you a carefully wrapped package, which you assumed to be a dress. “For tonight. Master Geto picked it out himself.” 

“...Cool.” 

She’d blinked at you. It was so awkward. But even more awkward would be to explain everything to Keiko in non-sorcerer terms. And as you walked home, bag in your hand, lost in thought, you gulped at a sudden realization. 

...How could he be so sure of where to go get you, if you’d never told Suguru where you lived? 

i will burn in hell. :3

[hyunles]

Casual | H.HJ.

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader word count: 669 genre: angst cw: none notes: this is a bit of a vent!fic and it's not really long but i did my best, hope you like it :) as always, english is not my first language, pls consider on giving feedback (in the kindest way possible) taglist and requests are open, feel free to ask! have a nice reading <3

It started good.

Holding hands, mutual smiles, friendly dates…

Until it wasn't just a friendship.

You two started to grow closer and closer, saying cheesy things to each other, talking and playing until down, cute dates you'll never forget. The I love you's were the best. You always felt butterflies all over your body.

But these days, he's been silent, very quiet for his usual. He just texted at 2 pm asking how was your day and going silent again until midnight. Ignoring your texts but being active on social media.

You noticed all those little things, and they were like little daggers on your heart. You were confused but you thought he was just busy with his job. But no.

One night, he decided to finally text back.

"Can we talk about smth?"

Your heart skipped a beat. Your mind racing with infinite thoughts. What if he wanted a formal relationship with you? What if he didn't? What if he just talked about why he has been so distant lately?

"Sure :)"

You could only text with trembling hands. You were happy because the odds of him telling you that he wanted to take the next step were high.

"I'm going to your house. Give me 5 mins ;)"

Sigh. You were nervous as hell. You tidied up the slight mess there was on your living room —that just implied the wrinkled blanket on your couch and a coffee mug on the table— before he arrived.

As he promised, Hyunjin was at your door 5 minutes later. He had teary eyes and didn't look happy at all.

"Hyune, what happened?" You immediately asked, pulling him inside the house before cupping his face.

But he moved away.

He stepped back, swallowing his tears.

"Look… Let's start for the fact that I really love you. I think I've shared very nice moments with you, and I still have them, but I know that I might have made this situation bigger than it is, and I don't want it anymore."

He sighed quietly after that, scanning for your reaction, hoping you wouldn't feel that bad.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"Hyun?" You mumbled, confused.

He continued, wanting to make this as quick as possible.

"I don't know exactly what your feelings are for me, but I know I can't reciprocate them."

His words stung, hurting like hell.

I can't reciprocate them.

It killed you.

"This… How… Why?" You were speechless, trying not to cry.

"I just don't want you to hurt. I'm not good for you." He didn't say more. He even avoided your gaze on a desperate attempt of feeling better.

"Hyune…"

"Listen to me. I want you to be happy. And I'm not the right person… Not right now." He murmured before opening the door again.

You immediately got nervous, your eyes crystallizing with tears. "No, no Hyunjin, don't do this." You grabbed his arm in a desperate attempt to keep him close.

"Don't make this harder than it already is."

"Hyunjn don't do this. You told me you wanted to marry me, that you loved my cheesy ways, that you didn't know what you'd do without me. We've been like this for almost a year, why did everything change overnight?! What did I do wrong?" You said with broken voice, tears flowing out of your eyes, streaming down your face.

The sight broke his heart, but she moved away again. "Forgive me…" He whispered, walking out with no further explanation.

You froze for a second, and when you finally opened the door, he was already driving away.

You yelled his name hoping he would stop and turn around, but he never did.

You called a million times but he never answered.

You texted a thousand messages but he never replied.

He was serious.

And he didn't explain either. He just let you live in doubt, thinking you weren't good enough for him. He just let you feel like you were a burden or a difficulty.

And you accepted it.

After all, you knew that, if he returned, you'd be there.

ᝰ.ᐟ Reblogs and likes are very appreciated. If you enjoyed this, please consider them!

Thanks for reading!

── 2025, hyunles ⋆ No translations, rewrites, or reposts allowed.

[ameamedraws]

Phainon’s gaze softening over time due to Feelings(TM)

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier’s expression shifts subtly—a change most wouldn’t notice, but you’ve learned to read him. His dark eyes focus entirely on you, any trace of his usual sleepiness vanishing instantly.

“That’s dangerous, giving me cues like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and unchanged in tone despite the intensity behind his words.

He closes the distance without warning, one hand cupping your face while the other slides around your waist, pulling you against him. There’s something possessive in the way his lips claim yours—deliberate and unhurried, yet leaving no room for retreat.

Time seems irrelevant as he deepens the kiss. For someone who typically appears so detached, his actions speak volumes, betraying the emotions he reserves only for you. When you attempt to pull back for air, he follows, unwilling to break contact.

“Not yet,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm. “I’m not done with you.”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Zayne sits at his desk in his home office. He looks up, dark eyes meeting yours over the rim of his glasses. Without a word, he removes them carefully, placing them beside his laptop.

“I suppose I’m due for a break,” he says, pushing back from his desk.

He stands and gestures for you to come closer. When you reach him, his hands find your waist, guiding you against the edge of his desk.

The kiss starts measured, methodical—like everything else he does—but quickly deepens with underlying hunger. His fingers trace up your spine, cradling the back of your neck with surprising tenderness.

“Fifteen minutes,” he murmurs in between kisses. “That’s all I need to refresh before returning to these reports.”

But the way he pulls you closer, the subtle sweetness on his tongue from the candy he keeps hidden in his desk drawer, suggests he might extend his break after all.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The afternoon light streams through the studio windows, casting golden hues across Rafayel’s canvas. His pauses, his paintbrush hanging suspended above vibrant blues and greens.

A smile spreads across his face as he sets his palette down. “And here I was thinking I’d need to convince you to distract me today.”

Paint-stained fingers carefully return the brush to its holder before he steps down from his step ladder. He allows you to make the first move, watching with fascination as you approach.

“For inspiration’s sake,” he whispers as your lips meet, though the way his breath catches suggests it’s more than artistic motivation driving him.

He lets you set the pace initially, responding to your lead with appreciative hums, his hands roaming your body. Then, something shifts—he’s in control.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck, fingers finally tangling in your hair.

His kiss deepens—wild and untethered, like he might disappear with the tide if not anchored to this moment with you.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“What a bold request,” Sylus says, making no move to stand. Instead, he pushes his chair back slightly from the table, eyes never leaving yours. “If that’s what you want, come here and take it.”

The challenge in his voice is clear—he wants you to approach him, to claim what you desire. As you cross the room, his expression remains composed, though a certain hunger darkens his gaze.

When you settle onto his lap, his hands rest lightly on your hips, neither pulling nor pushing. “Well?” he prompts, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “You made the request. I’m merely accommodating it.”

You initiate the kiss, setting a tentative pace that he follows without trying to accelerate. He restrains himself—a calculated decision to let you lead while he receives. Only when you deepen the contact does he respond in kind, his composure slipping just enough to reveal how much he’s been holding back.

“Good,” he breathes against your lips. “Now, show me what else you want.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The moment the words leave your mouth, Caleb’s expression darkens. He reaches past you to lock his bedroom door, the click echoing in the sudden silence.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice dropping lower as he backs you against the wall.

His lips find yours with urgent precision, one hand braced against the wall while the other cups your face. The kiss is consuming—a clear message that now that he has you, he won’t be letting go anytime soon.

You stumble backward as he guides you through his room, neither of you willing to break contact. Your back hits the wall next to his desk, and he cages you in with his arms, lips never leaving yours except for the briefest moments to catch your breath.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he confesses against your neck, voice ragged. His lips remain possessively on yours throughout the close-distance trip to his bed.

“Mine,” he whispers, pulling you down with him.

Another post upcoming for today 😼

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s never given much thought to babies before.

When he was younger, enough time was spent scorning his father and the childhood he was depriving him of, that any thoughts of becoming a dad himself one day were nonexistent. As far as he was concerned, he was essentially already a stand in parent to his younger brother.

As he grew older and enlisted, his life becoming one that consisted of nothing more than violence and destruction and terror, he thought the odds of him surviving into his 30’s were so slim that he need never bother worrying about having a ‘next of kin’.

That was until, he met you, of course.

Because now that Simon Riley has you in his life, he’s not quite so pessimistic about his existence the way he once was, doesn’t picture a foreboding dark cloud when he considers what his future could be. What a future with you could be.

Still, as much time as the two of you spend actually engaging in the baby making process, Simon really only considers babies as being something that other people have, not him.

Not with his line of work, not with the risks that come alongside the territory, not when he already can barely stand to leave you for deployment, let alone leave you behind with a child on top of everything.

No, Simon is perfectly content with his life where babies are just another anomale.

But then, your best friend announces she’s pregnant. And the sight of you holding a positive pregnancy test in your hands, changes something within him.

Suddenly, Simon is noticing chubby, drooling little infants everywhere he goes.

Fat babies shoved into the uncomfortable looking seats of grocery carts pass by him in the shops, crying babies strapped to their mums on the tube, sleeping babies being pushed around in their prams without a care in the world. Even on base, he notices more people talking about their children, showing off picture of their offspring.

He’s looking at you a little different as well. His gaze on you will darken as you and your friend chat about baby names, casually mentioning the ones that you like for yourself. His grip will tighten around the shopping cart when you wave to passing babies, making them giggle. He’s surprised at the way his cock twitches when you pretend to hold a breast pump up to your own chest, wrapping the baby shower gift you’d gotten her.

It only takes so long for you to notice the change in him as well.

You’ll be strolling through the park on a chilly morning when a young family goes by, Simon muttering something about how the little bald headed infant ‘should have a hat on for fuck’s sake, cold out ‘ere’. You’ll be in the shops, when suddenly Simon returns holding a pair of teeny tiny baby shoes in his hand, appearing comically small in his large calloused palms, wondering if maybe your friend would like them. You’re sitting outside a cafe while a pair of chubby cheeked babies are sat in their strollers staring at Simon as if their lives depended on it. You’re giggling to yourself, watching your boyfriend stare right back at these little girls, when the 6’4” tank of a man slowly lifts a gloved hand and waves at them, earning a pair of gummy smiles in return.

The most evident change in Simon however, is in bed.

Almost overnight, he goes from never having considered children, to suddenly dedicating every effort to getting you pregnant by the end of the year, month, week.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’re heavily pregnant with sukuna’s child and so desperately need to have your specific pregnancy cravings: mangoes. when you realise you’re out of them, you turn into an emotional mess.

tags. true form!sukuna x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw. pregnancy. size difference (reader referred to as small). reader gets called ‘woman, brat’ wc: 1.8k

you’re crying in your chambers, the volume of your cries overshadowing sukuna’s arrival at the estate. you hiccup and sniffle as you sit in the corner of the master bedroom. there really doesn’t seem to be an end to your mental breakdown.

you’re prone to mood changes because of your pregnancy, already being seven months along. your belly is as round as a globe as it sticks out from under your kimono.

you hold onto your lower abdomen while mumbling to yourself. “not fair,” you rub your blurry eyes with your free hand.

the bedroom doors suddenly swing open. you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. more upset than you are at the moment, that’s for sure.

you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.

after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure. he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.

his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days without seeing you.

sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one has checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.

the king of curses will make sure that every single servant - and especially the ones assigned to you - pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.

“damn it, woman,” sukuna curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"

you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.

“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly. you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.

“but they didn’t have the food i craved—they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the thought of your non existent fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.

sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he couldn't help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

the pink haired man brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”

despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplified emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.

“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch. you easily guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.

though, mangoes are your current pregnancy craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved sukuna is right in front of you.

“i need them,” you whine and pout. your hormones made it difficult for you to calm down.

you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out for the nth time. “i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”

sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.

the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight. “tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”

here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states - happy, sad, tired, excited - but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit. sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.

you pout at sukuna and lean into his touch as he pats your head. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do. “well, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.

no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy. though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you whine as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your words.

you are eating for two people after all—for you and the baby.

sukuna’s smirk widened at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. damn cheeky little woman.

the pink-haired man chuckled darkly, his hand clumsily ruffling your hair again before pulling away. “‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”

you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you couldn’t care less. anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you could eat a dozen of in one sitting.

“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational. you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.

“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.

“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you, and somehow, it makes him proud.

he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.

after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.

sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walked towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra. it’s driving him insane.

“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb. you’re lucky that he . . . tolerates you as his wife.

it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course. but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.

if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only sukuna knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.

before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume. they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.

the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your active pregnancy craving again.

sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume. “keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.

uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.

“where are you going, hubby?”

you of course, get a free pass. you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him that in such an oblivious manner. you should’ve known where he was departing to.

“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.

you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.

“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”

sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.

your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that sukuna is actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.

“okay! love you, ‘kuna!” you call out to your lover while he disappears behind the gates. as expected, your words are met by silence.

that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.

you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.

you know sukuna would let the world burn for you.