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nanamiskentos · 5 months ago

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WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PRISON REALM STAYS IN THE PRISON REALM ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ just your luck, getting sealed in the prison realm with the strongest sorcerer of this day and age. well, he's typically the strongest. unless it comes to you.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, sorta crack 😭 — use of blindfold, incorrect use of jujutsu, óral (f), pànty-fúcking, desperate and FERAL gojo, màting press, brééding, cérvix kissin' and creàmpiés lmfao, óverstim...

word count ⋆ ★ 4.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ gorgeous art by the amazing @baobei-bu 💖 highly recommend checking out their twt 🤭

"are you in the prison realm because ya' got sealed, or did you get sealed because you ended up in the prison realm?"

you grind tired molars together, willing your hands to stay put instead of wrapping around gojo satoru's wretched neck, "the fuck are you talkin' about?"

gojo just clicks his tongue lazily, sprawled out on the unsettling, clattering bones of the prison realm, "jus' musing. it's getting real existential here."

"it's been, what, two hours? and you're already losing it." you wrap your arms tightly around your knees, pulling them to your chest in some effort to combat the cool chill of this...prison. "you realise that this is literally all your fault though, right?"

gojo's eyes flutter open, sky-blue hues that glint with outrage, "what?" he's squawking, undignified, "don't start this again."

"oh, i will," you're jabbing a finger towards him, scowling, "i didn't have any beef with geto. not even after he went off the rails with all that murder shit. didn't do a damn thing to get stuck in here as well."

"oi," a shadow flickers over gojo's face, "whatever that thing is, it's not suguru. y'don't gotta' trust me on much else, but trust me on that."

eyes narrowing, you catch some truth in the sorcerer's defensive tone. whatever. not your circus, not your monkeys. you know better than to pick at gojo satoru's old wounds, "whatever, it's got his face. and you had one job last year when —"

gojo interrupts you with a faux, hacking cough that quickly melts into a groan. throwing his head back as though your tirade is a mere inconvenience, or a tiresome lecture. arms stretching upwards, long limbs unfolding as he arches his back.

phew. a sliver of pale skin peeks out from underneath the dark uniform of his jacket, smooth and taut over slabs of toned muscle, flashing just long enough to derail your thoughts.

"heh. no lookin', pretty," gojo snickers with half-lidded eyes, "what if i'm shy?"

a skull's clattering against the floor as you wrap your hands around rough bone, chucking it at gojo with all the force you can master. he's dodging it effortlessly, ugh. of course.

you don't hate gojo satoru. in fact, it would be a bold-faced lie to claim even a shred of dislike. far from it. your co-worker is...bearable in some circumstances, and it doesn't hurt that he's awfully easy on the eyes.

but nowhere in your grand master plan to bag the strongest sorcerer of the modern age did you imagine being sealed with him. there's a faint worry in the back of your head, wondering just how badly the world is falling apart outside. what, with that geto look-alike still running amok. tokyo? in flames. shibuya? well, you hope it's not rubble.

but it's hard to focus when gojo lounges in front of you, long legs stretched out and muscular thighs spread obnoxiously wide. he's absently tracing patterns on the eerie bones, "wanna' play rock-paper-scissors again?" sounding oddly chipper despite the dire fate of the world teetering on a knife's edge.

"we already did that. and you cheated."

"did not," gojo drawls, blue eyes disappearing to the back of his eyes in mock offense, "yer' just a sore loser."

a beat of silence, and then, "how about i spy?"

you raise a brow, glancing around at your five-star accomadation. the infinite expanse of dull bones and dismembered skulls, "fine. i spy with my little eye...an endless pile of bones. and an overgrown furby sitting right in front of me."

gojo whistles, low as he scrunches up his blindfold, tossing the black silk at you, "touché," head leaning back, groaning, "i'm jus' so bored."

"hah. if you were in here alone, you'd go mad," you mutter, scooching just a bit closer without thinking. this prison realm seems colder than it should be, and it's better to stay close for warmth, right? yeah. right, that's exactly what you tell yourself.

"probably. but it's not like we can crack this stupid place," gojo scowls, "trust me, spent the first hour givin' it my all. wasn't exactly expecting it either."

"yeah, i know," you sigh, avoiding the bright cerulean gaze that's currently resting on you, almost as though it's determined to take in the sight of you, "time doesn't pass in here, right? we're gonna' have to think of something."

the corner of gojo's mouth twitch, candy-pink lines curling up, "time stands still," and then, the man's giving you an odd, focused look that's almost sheepish, "besides, you're in here too, so i can't — y'know."

"you can't what?"

gojo snickers, whistling as he makes a quick, pumping motion over his abdomen, jerking his hand up and down, "you know."

you gape at the white-haired man, the sudden thump-thump of your heart rattling in your chest. it's ringing in your ears, "you're shameless," you mutter, dragging your gaze anywhere but him. the floor, the ceiling of this accursed place, anywhere but the faint amusement painting gojo's face.

"i never skip arm day."

you make a face, a faux-grimace, wondering how on earth you're attracted to this man. a charade and a pretense that you're keeping for yourself, because your neck is burning and heat creeps up your skin like a slow, curling flame. oh, you're a lost cause.

the laughter's melted from gojo's face, and the teasing spark in his eyes has given way to something suddenly more embarrassed, and flushed. expectant even, as there's a dusting of pink suddenly mottled on his cheekbones.

your gaze drops to his lap, mouth going a tad dry at the sudden, thick curve straining against his pants, "oh, y'serious. i mean, really, now? here?"

gojo scrambles backwards suddenly, folding his long legs beneath him like a panicked deer caught in the headlights, "hey. okay, wait! 'm stuck in here w'you and you're always looking so pretty and — don't make that face, hear me out." his ears are tipped with pink, just as obvious as the flush climbing up his neck, "and you're sitting so close, what am i meant to do? 'm only a simple man, sweetheart."

you swallow, as though there's a rough cotton ball caught in your throat, "this is really how you wanna' pass the time? i mean, we got eternity in here."

gojo's lips curl up again, maddening and cocky, as though he already knows the crass scenarios passing through your head, but theres a softer flash of vulnerability in his eyes. his gaze drops to your mouth, darkening with an expression that you've never seen on him before, "who's gonna know?"

your resolve snaps, and with it, all thoughts of the outside world. fuck it.

you're clambering forward, a sudden urge of want pushing you into his wide lap. not even giving him a chance to jest, and tease, or to say one more insufferable thing. your hands balance on gojo's broad shoulders for balance, pressing your mouth to his.

it's firm and certain, tasting the heat of his surprise and the faintest laugh that dies between you. you can taste something else as well, like cool and sweet mint. and blood, still hot and rearing from earlier fights.

gojo makes a muffled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a heady groan, and his hands suddenly come alive, rough palms sliding around your waist, pulling you so much closer. like he's holding a dream that might still disappear.

"heh, someone's just as needy," gojo murmurs, teeth grazing against the hot shell of your ear. the large expanse of his palm grazes at your chest, and a moan falls from your lips, arching your back into his touch, "s-shut up. i wasn't the one who h-had their legs spread, waiting for someone to climb on."

your groan leads gojo to make a sound like he's been wounded, desperate and tight against your skin. glossy mouth pressing at the curve of your throat, as fangs nip into the thin skin. leaving marks, this you know. cool hands slide under the hem of your own uniform, brushing gently over bare skin as his lips continue to chase your own.

sucking, and nipping at wherever his teeth can find, gojo's tugging at your top, pulling it off so you have little choice but to curl into him from the cold. chilled air hitting your bare skin, as he laughs, "aw, cold got to ya', eh? 's not to worry, i'll keep you nice and warm."

blue eyes that glow practically trained on the soft swell of your chest, reverent as though he had all the time in the world to take you in. which, at this point, gojo did. slicked lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cupped chest, white strands of hair falling over his face as he buries himself in, "i can take this off, right?" voice raspier, like rock against stone, in a lower register than you've ever heard it.

"wan' you too," you rock your hips sharper this time, more insistent, agains the hard bulge straining against his pants, "no-one's gonna' see, right?"

gojo's fingers deftly unclasp the hook, "hah, if they do, i'd rip their eyes out, can't have anyone else lookin' at m'girl like that," the strongest sorcerer in the world's gently peeling the fabric away. leaning in to kiss you again as though he's entirely drunk on the taste of you, and only you.

pale lips curling around your pert bud, hands softly pawing at your breasts as you gasp, and writhe, suddenly far more sensitive with each second that passes of gojo's attentive ministrations, "s-satoru, 'm feeling so —"

"so, what?" gojo grins, sucking a violet bruise right over your breasts, white lashes fluttering up to look at you, "yer' looking just as ruined as me, pretty."

"take them off," it's more of an order on your end, but gojo complies and he seems to know exactly what you want, exactly what you're talking about, as his hands dip to the waistband of your pants, long fingers pushing over your hips to centre themselves right where you're getting desperate for him.

"i've got ya', just carefully, yeah, lean back," he's flipping the two of you over, so he's leaning over you now, gently resting you on your discarded jacket, "heh, 'm just gonna' — yeah, there we go," hands pulling at your pants until he's tugged them off you, and gojo's eyes are wide at the sight of your drenched panties.

if you thought gojo satoru looked needy and whiny before, nothing prepares you for the sight of him gnawing at his glossy lower lip, eyes aglow as he seems to shudder, "wan' me to put the blindfold on ya', sweetheart? think we could have a lotta' fun like that, only if that's what y'want."

you eye the black silk that he discarded and tossed at you, not so long ago, pawing and reaching for it as gojo chuckles, "ohh, atta' girl, y'not gonna' need to do anything, but just lay back and use ya' words."

the snowy-haired man's surprisingly soft with it, pressing a tender kiss to your waiting lips, as he loops the fold over your eyes, obscuring your vision, "gojo's right here for ya', just relax."

you can hear the sharp hitch rock his breath, his hand mildly pressed onto your thighs as he gently nudges your thighs apart, and you can feel the chill of the air sting at your hot, sopping folds.

"s-so pretty," the strongest is slurring his words, "yer' practically dripping onto my hand and i've barely touched her. barely even gotten a good, fuck, a good taste."

"i know we're meant'ta be getting outta' this place," gojo murmurs, breath hot against your slicked panties, "but i really would lose my mind if i didn't get to do this first."

'this' being gojo pressing a quick kiss to the soaked fabric, and you can feel him smile against your thigh as you whine at the sensation, with each movement being so much more electric and heightened with the blindfold covering your vision.

"heyyy," gojo mutters, feeling at your thighs clench and kick, "no need to get antsy, 'm right here." tongue ghosting and teasing at your cunt again, "pretty thing, isn't she?"

rrrrrrip!

the way gojo's been pawing at you, you should have guessed that he was forgetting that the prison realm did not have an unlimited supply of undergarments, and that damp and muffled screech all but confirms it. he's torn your panties off, and you can't see where he's got them now.

but you can guess. for you can hear laboured breathing, and whiny praises falling from gojo's lips, and the sound of a buckle being undone. gojo's leaning back up to kiss you now, to nip and suckle at your lower lip while his hand tugs continuously at something. you can't see it, but you can feel the heavy, fat tip prod at your thighs. the sound of damp fabric being slapped against skin, plap over and over again.

"hahh, i don't think ya' know jus' how much i've wanted this, pretty," gojo breathes into your mouth, the other hand coming up to curl at the nape of your neck, loving even, "can ya' spread 'em a bit wider for me? that's it, just let me through."

he's now slotted between your thighs, large palms spreading you open as you can feel your panties still looped and dangling around his wrist, like the most lewd, keepsake cuff.

"satoru, wan' you to just — oh! oh, fuck!"

gojo's already dived right in, as though you were his last meal, swiping a tongue in quick stripes over your drooling cunt. starting near your glistening entrance, slowly climbing his way to the top where he presses gentle nips at your clit.

every single legible thought in your mind turns to a glorious mush, a senseless babble quickly falling from your lips as your hands shoot out, desperate for something to hold onto. finding the nape of gojo's neck, and curling your fingers into his pale hair as he licks at your soaked heat.

thick fingers are bruising at your hips, hooked and deeply pressed into your flesh, all the while gojo's practically making out with your cunt, primal and nasty. it's messy, absurdly so, and you can feel hot thwacks! of slick flying out against your thighs. you can only imagine how it's painting gojo's face, rendering him pussydrunk and so glossy and pretty.

"sweetheart, you're so sweet, ya' know that, right? so fuckin' sweet, heh, i mean, you don't even know how i've been dreaming of this, but now that you're here," gojo thumbs at your cunt, pushing slick-tacked folds apart to view his handiwork, "all spread so pretty for me, who woulda' thought?"

"m-more, please," you're practically mewling, jolting at the sensation of each sticky kiss that gojo plants on you, "more, fuck."

you can hear the crude smile in gojo's tone as he spits a thick glob onto your cunt, "what's the magic word, pretty?"

you don't even care to think, to pull a coherent sentence or plea from your mouth as he picks up the pace, "i d-don't know, satoru! but, god, fuck, fuck, please 'toru, i jus' —"

his grip on your hips tightens, "what?" a cutting, sharp sound as though he's been struck dumb, "what'd ya' just say, sweetheart?"

you don't even know how to form syllables now, such is the effect of gojo munching at your slick heat, "wanted more? huh, 'toru?" grinding your cunt against his face, rocking your hips sharply so you can feel the beakish point of his nose brush against your clit.

"toru, ya' called me," and you can hear the desperation and want painting gojo's words, drawing his voice out into a whine, "never thought hearing that from your lips would fuck w'me so much."

safe to say that gojo satoru would have a hard time letting go of you ever again. wind, hail, fire or prison realm — the strongest was going to have his way with you. his pretty girl, all spread pretty and dewy for him to feast on.

gojo's fingers are long, splitting you open as he begins to slide the digits right up into you. scissoring you open at a bullying pace, so you can only cry and squirm from where you are, "faster, f-fuck, your mouth too, 'toru!"

"whatever ya' want from me, 'm all yours to give," gojo murmurs, pressing a soft bite into the fat of your thighs, pushing his tongue into your entrance too, teasing at the outer edges of your gummy walls, "s'so tight, and 'm only using m'hands and this mouth," the tip of the muscle being sucked in by your pretty, sopping folds.

two lengthy fingers still pushing through your walls, exploring every crevice and sticky orifice that he can find, before rough pads brush past a spot that makes you scream, "oouh, m'girl's sensitive there?"

"s-satoru," you try to take in heavy swathes of air into your lungs, feeling much of the world fall away as gojo's nose grinds at your clit, each brush making you jerk your hips up and up, till you're seeing stars.

and oh, you're definitely seeing the whole damn night sky like this. you don't know what it is that he's doing, that sharp buzz faintly running in your ears, that faint crackle of energy that makes you jolt, but you can guess, "hah, 's not fair, using j-jujutsu, 'm gonna cum, m'really gonna cum!"

"now," it's a command, and you can hear it in gojo's ruined tone, that he needs to see you fall apart like this, needs to taste your release on his tongue and you writhe, as tears prick at your lashes underneath the blindfold, your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves that leave you limp and boneless.

gojo's hands are trailing up again, leaning upwards to gently pull the blindfold from your eyes, and oh, what a sight! the white-haired man looks breathless, as though the air has been stolen away from him. eyes glowing with running cursed energy, a bright light in the dark that has your thighs clenching at how feral he looks. glossy lips dripping syrup over his chin, and how utterly pleased he looks.

"thereee you are," gojo murmurs, pressing his lips hotly to your own, "can ya' taste how sweet y'are?" each sticky kiss leaving you dizzy, but not as giddy as you feel when your eyes drop lower.

your panties still wrapped around his wrist, uniform sleeve pushed up so you can see where your slick has dampened the pale dusting of hair on his arm. and there, well, eyes on the prize as they say.

he's bigger than anyone else that you've ever seen. it seems fitting that gojo satoru's cock is just as girthy, and beefy as he is. curling upwards in a thick shaft that's kissing wet smears of fluid over his jacket, staining it.

"that's not gonna' fit," the only logical thing you can say right now, eyeing the pink, swollen head of his cock and how it glows.

the sorcerer's tilting his head, "we can make it fit," hand reaching out to run gentle strokes across your knuckle, "we got allll the time in the world to make it fit, don't we? and, heh, i don't think our audience really minds, do ya'?"

you scowl at the reminder of the clattering skulls still chittering away, mindlessly thrumming in the walls of this stupid cube. but you're never one to complain when faced with a site such as this, gojo wrapping long fingers against his cock to glide the head through your syrupy folds. the wide, throbbing head snagging at the sopping walls of your entrance. all while you pull him in closer, nails already beginning to tear lightly at his back.

"kiss m-me, 'toru."

gojo looks up from where he seems mesmerised, taken by the sight of your glossy folds seem to welcome his cock's touch, "what was that, sweetheart?"

"kiss me," you gasp, feeling him press further against you, the tip running circles right over your clit, "when ya' put it in, please."

despite the fact that he was previously nose-deep in your cunt, not five minutes ago, and the fact that he's been pawing your clothes off in a cursed prison realm with no shame, now it seems like you've truly stumped the man. rendered him speechless and flushed, as he ducks his head into the crook of your neck.

"awh," gojo murmurs, "pretty girl wants me kissin' her, fuck, ya' don't know what you're asking. or how much y'ruin me," he's taking your mouth into a heart stopping kiss, searing before he breaks away to press light pecks to the corner of your mouth, "hold on, biiig stretch for m'now, but i've got ya', just — ohhh."

gojo feels his own thoughts dissipate as he's pushing into your cunt. every previous subconscious worry of what on earth he had gotten himself (and you, when that fuck-ass clone showed up on the train platform) falling away as he's left with only you. just you, and this maddening cunt that he's ready to call home. forever.

"s-s-so tight," the strongest stutters, "fuck" his hands already pulling at your thighs to spread them wider, so he can bully more hot inches in, just so he can hear the smack! of skin against skin.

you're squealing, digging sharp tips of your nails into faint lines that are definitely gonna' paint his back, "eeh, it's b-big, 'toru." it feels like he's truly split you open, and well, fuck, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't pleased at how you finally got the strongest sorcerer spitting cuntstruck praises into your mouth.

you whimper, the sound falling softly from you as he bottoms out, and chuckles, swiping a slick thumb over your chin, "see? we really did it together, heh," like he's awarding you some participation in a teamwork exercise, "i'm all up in ya' and her," he's patting at your abdomen, right where you know there's a soft divot, a bulge that curls upwards.

the thick, hot tip of his cock pressing messy kisses to your inner walls, throbbing and pulsing. each vein bulging within you, "y'gonna cum in me, right, 'toru? gonna' finish right in —"

gojo stares at you, bewildered for a split second, like you've truly shocked him. blue eyes wide and expressionless for a second, before something far more pained crosses his face, tongue poking out of red, kiss-bitten lips.

"satoru?"

the strongest sorcerer snaps, pushing himself upwards, and dragging you up along side him, rough palms coming up to tug at your thighs, your calves. pulling them over his shoulders, a reverent kiss pressed to your ankle as gojo snarls, "ya' got no idea, do ya'? talkin' out of your slutty cunt, not even knowin' what you're doin' to me? huh?

gojo's now pressing down into you, with such force that it makes your thighs ache and smart, but you can't even bring yourself to care. practically folded in half neatly in a brutal mating press as his cock rummages inside you at a snappish, crazed pace. as though he's desperate to find where he can push into you the most, to have the leaky head kiss at the entrance of your womb.

and oh, gojo's enjoying the view. thinking that he's content with being faced with the bounce, and jolt of your chest against his, the way that your lips part and flutter around each muffled whine and cry of his name. the hazy glimmer that falls over your cockdrunk expression, like he's the only one for you. his own thighs ripple and bulge with each snap, cock pulsing into the depths of your core. kissing your cervix over and over in pleasurable stings.

"sweetheart, fuck," gojo's gasping, tugging at your lips. you don't miss crystalline droplets pooling on the edges of long, white lashes. the shuddering breaths that he takes into his lungs as you've practically snatched his mind and rationality away with the tight heat of your cunt, "n-never felt like this before. ya' drivin' me mad. fuck, fuck, oh, this pussy was jus' made for me, hah."

in the dim glow of this accursed place, the sheen of his eyes seems all the more intense. storm clouds gathering and parting all at once, striking electric sparks that leave you breathless. he's moving at a pace so feral that you can feel tight, heavy balls smack against your ass. desperate to empty themselves into you, just as you had begged.

"gonna' cum, pretty," gojo whines into your panting mouth, eyes fluttering shut as a tear or two streaks away from his waterline, "jus' snatching me so fuckin' tight."

you hammer your hips up to meet his, to feel that delicious tack of his sticky groin against yours, every kiss of pre-cum glistening in your cunt, "don't miss."

"when have i ever m — ohhh, fuck. fuck, 'm -"

yeah. you don't let him finish. clenching around him tight enough just to remind him who's got who wrapped around their finger. sending gojo hurtling towards a heart shattering climax, pumping every divot of your drooling pussy with shades of white and cream. endless streams of milky, translucent seed making its home deep within you. all while you cry out, harshly digging into his back and pulling the strands of his silver-streaked undercut.

"takin' it all, 'm pumping you s'full, sweetheart," gojo whines, mewling as he slaps a hand between you two, roughly pawing at your thigh to push your leg higher up with one hand, giving him enough space to rub tight, tremouring circles over your clit. slapping and sloshing the mess around even more as your mouth falls open.

he's still shooting into you, and you don't have to look down to predict the sticky, glossy mess that must be painted over your cunt now. right where gojo's hand must be dripping in your release, making you sink your teeth into the side of his neck. stars streaking across your vision as all goes black momentarily, but he doesn't let up on your poor, throbbing clit.

"hah, 'm so full, satoru," you groan out, pressing a limp hand to the bulge right over your groin, right where gojo's eyes are trained, his cock still sputtering out the desperate release of his cum into you, and the white-haired man moans. loud, like you've truly undone him.

the overstimulated sting is giving way to another shattering, sharp climax that washes over you once more, as quickly as it came, leaving your heart thumping and your lungs weak, locking your ankles once more around gojo's neck, wresting on his shoulders.

you limply paw at his jacket, tugging at the stiff collar as gojo sighs, content like a cat that's finally been able to bask in the sun, "feelin' more alert now, huh? got any fresh ideas on how to break this thing?"

gojo gives you a lazy, droopy look. eyes half-lidded as he barks a faint, incredulous laugh, "fucked any smart thoughts right outta' me, sweetheart. besides," and now he's flipping the two of you around again, so you're perched once more in his lap.

smacking and squelching in the pooling mess of your shared release, as gojo grunts, lifting the jacket from his torso. revealing an expanse of delicious washboard abs, and mouth-watering, flushed pectorals, "i don't think we're runnin' outta' time here, may as well make the most of it."

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shitpostingsapphic · 6 months ago

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My favorite headcanons for caitvi are ones where they met as kids/teens, by far

Like it's so fucking cute, the idea that Caitlyn would be immediately drawn to Vi due to her curiosity, and Vi can't help but be smitten by Caitlyn's atypical behaviors and willingness to explore new concepts and experiences and ideas.

Just like when they meet as adults in the original universe, their backgrounds should make them incompatible, but there's that inexplicable draw that brings them together.

Imagine Caitlyn tags along with Jayce to his visits in the undercity without telling her parents and can't stop staring at the pink haired girl she sees there at the shop, just hanging around, and they meet eyes, and BOOM, instant connection. Vi also sneaks glances and realizes she's never seen a Piltie girl her age this close before. She wonders if they're all this pretty.

Imagine Vi is sneaking around topside to catch glimpses of Caitlyn, because she feels like she shouldn't be so drawn to a Piltie, but she is anyway.

Imagine one day Caitlyn actually catches sight of Vi across the street as she tries to remain inconspicuous, but Caitlyn would recognize that pink hair in a heartbeat. Imagine she sneaks away from her mother or whoever she's with in order to go talk to her.

"It's you," she says, shy yet bold.

Vi, of course, tries to play it off. "Dunno what you're talking about, topside." But the blush on her cheeks tells another story.

Caitlyn ignores the very obvious attempts at ignorance. "I've been wanting to come visit the shop again, but it's hard for me to find the chance to get away from my mother. She's kind of overprotective."

Vi decides it's best not to play dumb, but can't completely be honest about wanting to see her as well. "You're sure you wanna share about your life with me? Maybe your mom's got a point, shouldn't associate with undercity trash and all."

Caitlyn frowns. "I don't think you're trash. That's silly. Why would you call yourself that?"

Vi is caught a bit off guard. "Isn't that what all you Pilties think of us?"

"I certainly don't." Caitlyn cocks her head as this leaves Vi without a response. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Vi stumbles around in her head for an answer. Shoves her hands in her pockets. Kicks a rock aside. Shrugs. "W-why are YOU talking to me?"

This makes Caitlyn smirk. "I DID say I've been meaning to come back to the shop. What do you think?"

"Dunno. Could want a number of things there." Vi has been staring at the ground but peers up at Caitlyn here. "Give me a hint?" The barest of upturned lips.

This makes Caitlyn break out into a genuine smile that steals Vi's breath a bit. "You're kind of adorable, you know that?"

Vi sputters. "Am NOT."

"Are so." Caitlyn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Can't help but think the girl's freckles compliment her blush well.

Vi rolls her eyes, trying to pretend her brain isn't setting off fireworks. "I don't even know your name."

"Would you like to know it?" Caitlyn says, tilting her head.

"Since you insist on teasing me, I think it's fair."

"But you make it so easy," Caitlyn giggles. "Alright. I'm Caitlyn."

"Caitlyn," Vi breathes. Shakes her head. Clears her throat. Thrusts her hand out, scuffed up palms and knuckles and all. "I'm Vi."

"Vi. Pleasure to meet you." Caitlyn takes her hand without hesitation, notices how rough they feel compared to hers, incredibly intrigued.

"Caitlyn!" A voice calls. The girls both turn. It's her mother.

"Shit." Caitlyn breathes.

This makes Vi laugh, surprised. "Didn't know princesses could use words like that."

"Oh, hush." Caitlyn looks back at her, panicked. "I have to go. I'm sorry." Her eyes shift so they're alight with mischief. She jerks her head towards her mom. "You've got a talent for sneaking around, I assume?"

"And if I do?"

"Wait until we're out of sight. Maybe if you're good enough, you can stay under her radar." Caitlyn smirks. "Maybe you could teach me how to sneak about myself. Could come in handy."

Without giving Vi a chance to respond, she turns away, skirt swishing about.

And if Vi does exactly what Caitlyn says, following her home out of sight, and later taps at the same glass doors of the balcony she sees the girl disappear into after a while of spying, no one is the wiser. She figures she doesn't need to tell Vander what she's been up to just yet.

#caitvi headcanon #arcane #arcane headcanon #arcane thoughts #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #vi arcane #caitlyn x vi #violyn #arcane league of legends #vi ar #arcane fic #caitvi fic #arcane league of lesbians #league of lesbians

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smutoperator · 2 months ago

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Dress Code

Nicha Yontararak (Minnie) x Male Reader

Tags: (lots of) anal, ass-licking, car sex, daddy kink, degradation, domination, facefucking, facial, gape, man on top, public sex, punishment, rimming, (very) rough sex, shit-talking, skimpy outfit

Word count: 4536

You were working as a security guard at a party, checking the guests invitation tickets; everything seemed to be going smoothly until you saw a girl wearing an outfit so small it barely covered her buttcheeks.

"May I check your ticket?" you asked the girl. "Sure," she answered. "Minnie, nice name, you tell her. "It seems fine, but I can't let you in," you then continue. "Why?" she asks.

"You are not fitting the party's dress code," you tell Minnie. "Dress code?" she asks, very confused. "Yes, dress code. You are not going to get inside with an outrageous outfit like this," you tell her.

"What? That's so unfair," Minnie tells you, very upset. "I'm sorry, but a code is a code, and it must be obeyed," you answer her. "Nobody told me anything about a dress code," she says to you.

"Look at the way you're dressed; I can see your whole ass and your bare legs. You're the only person with that outfit that came to the party," you tell Minnie. "Well, that's just my regular outfit; I was performing with it just a while ago," she answers you.

"Sorry, but a no is a no," you tell her. "What can I do to get in?" Minnie asks," "Get a new outfit," you answer. "What if I don't want to?" she asks. "Then you won't be allowed," you continue.

But Minnie had one last trick up her sleeve.

"Would you let me in if I sucked your cock?" Minnie asks you," "Whoa, girl, slow down," you say to her. "But let me think about your offer for a bit," you continue.

You call another security guard. "I need to handle this situation; can you cover for me?" you ask him. As he covers your spot, you take Minnie outside the building towards a distant spot in the parking lot, carrying her on your shoulder.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Minnie asks," "Well, you said you wanted to suck my cock, but I need to find a better place for it. "How about you handle me a VIP ticket after not only do I suck your cock but also let you fuck my holes?" Minnie asks you, briefly pulling the small outfit she's wearing at the bottom and showing you her pussy and ass before putting it back on.

Her boldness has impressed you as you feel you truly need to tame this Thai slut. You bring Minnie towards the car from your security company. You start touching her, reaching under her outfit to finger her pussy. "Whoa, baby, slow down," Minnie says. "I'm not slowing down; you asked for it," you tell her.

You bend Minnie against the car, unbuttoning her blouse just enough to unveil her perky tits as you start sucking them. "Oh yes," Minnie moans as your mouth runs all over her boobs, the cold weather of the night also giving her shivers. You quickly take the bottom of her outfit, eating her pussy out. "I'm taking this as a trophy tonight," you tell her.

Minnie spreads her legs as you eat her pussy on the hood of the car. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she moans as your tongue runs all over her cunt. "Fucking beautiful, so meaty," you tell her. Minnie moans really loudly, making you glad that you went to a more distant spot. "Push it deep, push it deep," she begs for you as you eat her out, now moving towards her asshole.

"YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, OH SHIT," Minnis moans as she moves her hips to meet your moves. "Does it taste good? Oh fuck, AHHhh," she asks you, but you don't answer, kissing her one more time to give her a taste of her holes.

"Please, baby, I want to see how it tastes," Minnie says as she's hungrier than ever for your cock. "Then bend over again, you fucking slut," answer her as you dive your face between her asscheeks. "Ohhh baby, your tongue is so good in my ass," she tells you. "Oh fuck, ahhhh, hmmmmm," she then moans as you put a pair of fingers in her pussy. "Do you like how it gapes for you?" she tells you as she spreads it up to her rosebud for you to lick.

"OHHH SHIT," Minnie moans as you speed up the intensity of your rimming. "AH, AH, AH, AH," she lets out small moans. "You want to suck my cock, you fucking bitch?" you ask her. "Yes, please," she answers. "Then do it like this," you tell her.

You carry Minnie up one more time, putting her face upside down perfectly lined up to your crotch as you unzipe your pants. "Yeah, yeah," she celebrates, pulling your underwear down despite being upside down and taking your huge cock straight into her mouth. "Oh fuck, oh yeah," you groan as you and Minnie perform an upside-down 69, her choking on your cock, bobbing her head on it hard using no hands while you eat her cunt.

"You really know how to suck cock," you tell her as things get very acrobatic, your mouth running all over her cunt while hers runs all over your cock. You put Minnie back on her feet. "On your knees, slut," you tell her. Minnie sniffs your shaft before she starts licking it and taking it deep in her throat, very hungry for that monster meat.

"You're so beautiful, ahhhh," you tell Minnie as you groan with the work she gives your shaft, taking special attention to your balls. "Nasty little girl, I'm gonna give you more," you tell her. "More?" she asks. "Yes, more," you answer.

You grab Minnie's hair and start fucking her face hard. "Take it, slut," you tell her as Minnie gags all over your cock, you filling her mouth to the fullest. You shove her face against your balls and slap her ass, slowly but surely getting rougher. "Yes, that's what I like to see, you fucking slut," you approve of her.

"You look so beautiful all over my balls," you tell Minnie. "I need more," she tells you. "I knew you wanted more; the moment I saw you dressed like that, I knew the only thing you were worth was to please my big fucking cock," you tell her. "Keep sucking that dick, you nasty slut," you tell her, giving her an even rougher facefuck this time, making Minnie gag hard as you spank her ass.

Minnie chokes on your cock, losing her breath. "Who told you to stop, bitch?" you ask her, punishing her with another rough pounding, holding your monster cock down her throat. "Your punishment is just beginning," you tell her as Minnie's face starts to turn red and she gets cock drunk.

"Does it feel good when I suck your cock?" Minnie asks you," "You really like that cock, don't you?" you tell her, spanking her ass. "Yes, baby, I love it," she tells you.

"Then come here," you tell Minnie as you lift her up and shove your cock down her cunt, carry-fucking her. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," she moans as you spread her cheeks and attack her pussy. "OHHHH SHIT," she screams as you put her back on the ground.

You pin Minnie against the car's hood, spreading her legs as you thrust into her pussy. "Ahhh, ahhhh, fuck me," she moans, out of breath as you attack her cunt at full speed. "Give it to me, oh fuck me, harder, harder," she begs as you start spanking her face.

"You wanted that pussy so bad, didn't you?" Minnie asks you as her body shakes against the car. "Fuck, you're such a tight bitch," you tell her, letting her get on her knees to taste her cunt from your cock. Minnie sucks it like a maniac. "You're so nasty," you tell her, fucking her face one more time as you tie her arms behind her back.

"I'm gonna use you like the fucking whore you are," you tell Minnie, fucking her face as you also bang her head against the front of the car. The more you fuck her, the crazy she drives you, her face getting plowed like a fleshlight. "Useless bitch, this is how I'm gonna punish you youfor violating the dress code," you tell her.

You slam Minnie into the hood of the car, taking her pussy in a missionary position next. "Oh shit," Minnie moans. "Oh yes, pinch my pussy," she tells you as she also spreads her ass for you. "Oh my god, you're so fucking big," she tells you.

"You like that big fucking cock, don't you?" you ask Minnie. "Yes, baby, make me taste it," she answers. You flip her around in the hood of the car, popping your cock in and out of her face to tease her. "If you want it, you'll have to clean my ass first," you tell her.

You sit your ass on Minnie's doll face as she reaches to lick your dirty butthole. "Good girl, that's what I want; clean that dirty fucking ass," you tell her while Minnie rims it.

"Get back down and bend over again," you tell Minnie. "Are you gonna give it to me? Are you gonna fucking give it to me?" she begs. "Of course," you answer her. "Oh, please, baby," she continues to beg.

Minnie gets pinned hard against the hood of the car. "Oh shit," she moans. "Don't regret it now; you asked for it," you tell her as you attack her pussy from behind like crazy. "YES, YES, YES, AHHH, AHHH, OH SHIT," she screams as you plow her like a raging bull. "OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT, FUCKKK," she keeps screaming, you grabbing her hair and stretching her mouth, treating her like nothing but a useless fuck toy.

"OH FUCK ME, OH FUCK ME, OH FUCK ME," Minnie continues to scream. "Get down, you nasty bitch," you tell her as you slam her head against the hood of the car. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," Minnie can't stop screaming, her pussy burning hard as your cock shows no mercy for it, her body getting completely pinned against the car. "You're so fucking beautiful being a submissive slut like that," you tell her, picking up the pace even further. "OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT" is all Minnie can say, your thrusts flying much faster than her thinking speed.

You penetrate Minnie balls deep, her moaning and groaning as you totally dominate her. "YES, YES, YES, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, AH, AH, AH," she screams. "HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, OH MY GOD," she continues to beg, experiencing an animalistic fuck like never before, barking like a dog in heat. "Shut up, cunt," you tell her. "Now you understand why you should have respected the dress code," you continue.

"Yes, baby, I understand, FUCKKKK," Minnie says, barely able to finish her sentence as your cock keeps shaping the walls of her needy cunt. "AH, AH, AH, AH, AH," she continues to scream, her body completely smashed against the hood of the car. "You thought your actions weren't gonna have any consequences, you fucking slut, but now you've learned the lesson," you told her.

"Oh my God," Minnie begs as you pull out of her pussy and lick both her fuckhole like an animal, spanking the ass she showed you at the front door. "Don't move; this was just the first round," you tell her. "What are you gonna do to me next?" she asks.

"I'm gonna fuck this ass, of course," you tell her. "Yes, baby, fuck my little shithole," Minnie tells you as you soon tongue her backdoor. "Oh, I love a nasty girl that calls her ass a shithole, just like it should be," you tell her.

"Get my shithole nice and wet, spit all over that fucking dirty hole, yeahh." Minnie says it again as you sweep your tongue all over it. "Tongue fuck my ass, baby," she begs as you go mad crazy over it, getting very noisy.

"You like that pretty ass?" Minnie asks you as the tonguing continues, and you put a pair of fingers up her anus too. "OH MY GOOD," she moans. "Open your ass for me," you tell her as she spreads her cheeks. "Of course, baby, I'll open it all for you," she answers.

You penetrate Minnie's ass with violence, sticking your full length in one go inside it. "HOLY SHIT, IT'S SO BIG," she screams. "You like that cock all the way up your nasty ass, don't you?" you ask her. "Yes, I do," she answers.

"OH YEAH, YEAH, AHHHH, SHITT," Minnie screams as your cock seems too big for her ass. "Slow down, baby, your cock is so huge," she tells you. "Spread that beautiful ass," you tell her as you attack it balls deep. "OH FUCK, YEAH, YEAH," she screams.

"I CAN'T FUCKING MOVE; JUST FUCK MY ASS, OH MY GOD," Minnie screams hard as you open a massive crater in her asshole. "PLEASE, TAKE IT SLOW," she continues to beg, but you ignore her pleading, Minnie spreading her ass even further to deal with the heat you deliver in it.

"Look at this beautiful gape," you tell Minnie as you pull out a bit before going back and mounting on top of her even harder. "LIKE THAT, LIKE THAT, OH MY FUCKING GOD, OH SHIT," Minnie screams as you only make her gape go harder, your cock making her scream nonstop as you make her ass get sore. "You like getting fucked in the ass like that, you fucking slut?" you ask her. "YES, BABY," she screams.

"Taste it, baby, taste it," you tell Minnie as you stop fucking her ass a bit and shove your dirty cock down her nasty mouth. "You like to taste your ass, you nasty bitch?" you ask her, slapping your cock in her face before going back inside. "AH, AH, AH, FUCK ME, FUCK MY ASS, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, OH MY GOD, OH FUCK," she screams nonstop. "Yes Minnie, that's how you punish a fucking slut," you tell her, spanking her face as you deeply penetrate her in the butt.

"Beg for it; tell me what you want me to do to you," you tell Minnie. "I WANT YOU TO FUCKING FUCK MY ASS," she screams. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do, fucking slut," you tell her, getting even rougher up her butthole. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," Minnie pleads in vain as her asshole turns into your personal playground.

You shove your cock in Minnie's face after a good anal round. "Open your eyes," you tell her as you fuck her face against the hood of the car, turning it into a mess. "Please, baby, fuck my ass a little more," she begs you as soon as you pull your cock out of her mouth.

You flip Minnie around, putting her on top of the hood of the car and inserting your cock back in her butt. "Yes, baby, fuck that dirty shithole," she tells you. "Hmm, dirty shithole, how about we turn that cunt into a shitpussy?" you tell her, switching to her pussy. "Yes baby, that's what I fucking want, Daddy, get all that dirty ass in my fucking pussy, AHHHH," she begs as you destroy her cunt.

You choke Minnie. "You're so nasty, you make my dick so hard," you tell her, sucking her tits. "I want more, please," she begs as you turn her around and shove it back in her ass. "YES, SHOVE IT IN THERE AND FUCK IT, FUCK IT, FUCK IT," she commands. "Open that ass for me," you tell her.

"It feels so good when you fuck my prolapsed ass, OH MY GOD, HOLY FUCK," Minnie screams as you keep giving her the anal pounding she deserves. "Look how much you stretched out, daddy," Minnie says as she shoves her fist inside her butthole. "That's what I want to see—shove that hand inside that shithole," you tell her.

You eat Minnie's pussy as she shoves her arm deeper in her anus, before letting you suck it. "Fuck me hard, Daddy, make your cock dirty," Minnie begs as you destroy her ass. "Choke me, daddy, I want more," she begs as you start spitting in her face, Minnie losing her sight as you can't seem to stop degrading her.

"FUCK YES, DADDY, GIVE IT ALL TO ME," Minnie keeps begging as the anal session continues. "Which one is better, Daddy, my ass or my pussy?" Minnie asks as she kisses you. "Both," you tell her.

"I love how nasty you are to me, daddy," Minnie says as you keep spreading her ass out and pinching her pussy from behind. "Shove that dirty ass in my fucking pussy," she begs as you switch from one hole to another.

"Let's get inside the car," you tell Minnie, closing the door and slapping your cock in her face as you two get in the backseat. "Nasty cock-drunk slut," you tell her, letting Minnie bob her head on your shaft while you spank her ass. "Clean my dick, you dirty slut," you tell her, holding Minnie's nose while she chokes on your dick until she gags, punishing her with a spit on her face for gagging.

Minnie chokes on your cock multiple times, you rewarding her with spanks on her ass multiple times. "Come here, ride that cock," you command to Minnie, who impales her ass on your cock and starts bouncing. "You're so sexy riding it," you tell her as you two share kisses. "Look at that ass working on my big cock," you tell her as Minnie squats on your cock. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, YEAH," she screams.

"GIVE ME MORE, GIVE ME MORE, RIGHT IN MY ASSHOLE," Minnie begs as you pound her ass from down low, her whole makeup completely ruined at this point as you destroy her asshole balls deep. "I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, FUCK, OH YES," she screams as she tries to bounce on your cock.

"Wanna see how stretched out my asshole is, Daddy?" Minnie asks you as you let her spread her legs in the backseat. "Look what you did to me, Minnie says as she opens up her asshole with both hands. "I'm not done yet, you fucking slut," you tell her, sitting on Minnie's face and ordering her to clean your ass.

"AHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, OH MY GOD," Minnie moans as you massage her pussy, her moans getting muffled as the rims your asshole. You put her in a pile driver on the seat, fucking her without even looking in her face, Minnine fingering your butthole from behind while hers gets destroyed. "OH FUCK, YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP INSIDE ME," she screams, you destroying her pussy and asshole like they are nothing.

"Feed me, please," Minnie begs as you stick your dirty cock back in her mouth, spitting in her throat every time you pull her out. "You love the taste of my dirty ass," you tell her, fucking her face a couple more times.

"Fuck my ass some more, please; open my ass, just like that," Minnie begs as you go back in her butt, pinning her against the backseat. "SUCH A BIG FUCKING DICK, I LIKE THAT FUCKING DICK SO MUCH, OH MY GOD," Minnie screams.

You alternate between Minnie's slutty face and her prolapsed asshole, looking at her pitiful ruined face. "Do you like to be nasty for Daddy? You know Daddy likes nasty girls," you ask her as Minnie nods positively.

"Tell me, Minnie, what Daddy likes," you ask her. "Nasty girls like me," she answers in the rare times your cock isn't in her mouth. "AHHH FUCKKK, SHIT," Minnie screams as you get back in her ass. "Take it, baby, take that nasty cock up your dirty ass," you tell her.

Minnie gets pounded hard on an anal mating press as you can't get enough of her ass. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, OH MY GOD," she screams as you choke her, then feed your cock right in her mouth one more time, shaking it inside it. At this point, Minnie can't even think straight. "You like that cock deep in your throat, whore?" you ask her as you suck Minnie's cute tits, even biting her nipples like a hungry animal. "Oh yeah," she moans as you kiss her.

"Let me lick that dirty stretched-out asshole," you tell Minnie, letting her sit on your face. "Yes, Daddy, lick it like crazy," she asks you as you bury your face in it. "Is that what you want, Daddy, your face all over my ass?" she asks you. "Oh shit, oh shit, ahhhh," Minnie moans as you get her closer to an anal orgasm, her grinding her ass on your face, answering as you tongue her butthole and spank her ass.

Minnie ducks down in the backseat and gives you a boss chair blowjob with her ass up, deepthroating your cock and massaging it like crazy. "Fuck, that's incredible," you tell her, kissing Minnie after she's done. She then sits on your cock, bouncing like crazy. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH," she moans like a dog in heat. "OH MY GOD, MY FUCKING ASS," she says as she grinds her hips on your shaft, her butthole already sore after so much fucking.

"PLEASE, PLEASE, DEEP IN MY FUCKING ASS," Minnie begs as she spreads her cheeks while bouncing on your dick. "OH SHIT, OH MY GOD," she screams as you grope her tits. "YOU'RE RIPPING MY FUCKING ASS," she screams, you pumping upwards and making her lose her mind, Minnie getting pounded so hard. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH SHIT, OH FUCK," she screams as you give her an anal orgasm.

Minnie goes back to deepthroating you, tasting all of her ass in your cock. "Nasty whore, that's what I want to see," you tell her. "My ass is fucking good, isn't it?" she asks you.

"I'm your fucking toy, your fucking little toy," Minnie says. "Then show me," you tell her, getting fully on top of Minnie. "OHHHHHH," she says as you start attacking her pussy, licking her feet while she sucks yours trying to cope with the heat.

"I love this position," you say as your body completely tops Minnie on the backseat. "Me too, I've never been fucked like this before," Minnie says as you rest in her face, fingering her squirting cunt while she rims your asshole and strokes your cock. "OH MY FUCKING GOD," Minnie moans.

"Alright, time to fuck your ass like that too," you tell Minnie. "YES, PLEASE, DEEPER," she begs as you put her ass up and slide your cock while on top of her. "OH MY GOD," Minnie screams as she's completely immobilized by your tall body, your raging meat sliding in and out of her butthole at a blistering speed.

"FUCK, AHHH," Minnie screams as you turn her body into your pillow, pressing her against the backseat. "OH MY GOD, DON'T STOP, FUCK THAT ASS," she begs, barking like a puppy as she can barely see it straight. "DAMN IT, YOU FEEL SO FUCKING GOOD IN MY ASS," she says.

"Let's get back outside," you tell Minnie, opening the car's door and making her hang onto it as you fuck her ass. "Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, ahhh," Minnie is without energy to even moan, your cock just relentlessly attacking her ass and clapping her cheeks nonstop. "AHHHHHHH," she screams as she gets pounded, barely able to stand on her feet as her ass gets utterly obliterated, you taking your cock balls deep in it.

"OH MY GOD, YOU FUCK MY ASS SO GOOD," Minnie tells you. "I love to fuck that slutty ass," you tell her, Minnie smiling as her hair is all over her face. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she screams as you take your cock all the way deep in her ass.

"TAKE IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT; I LOVE THAT COCK IN MY ASS," Minnie says as she spreads her ass. "YOU POUND ME SO HARD, DADDY," she tells you as you go for another round of ass-fucking. "Such a nasty anal whore," you tell her. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Minnie screams, you spitting in her face as her asshole is completely red after so much pounding. "AHHHH, AHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, I'M SO FUCKING NASTY FOR DADDY," she screams, you grabbing her hair, tears flowing down her eyes as you choke her and show no regard towards Minnie's feelings, just using her like a fucktoy.

"That's what you get for violating the dress code," you tell her, Minnie rolling her eyes as your anal drilling doesn't seem to stop. You tie her arms behind her back, grabbing her head and punishing her like the good slut she is. "YES, YES, YES, FUCKKK, AHHHH," Minnie screams as the pounding keeps going.

"Mercy, please," Minnie asks. You destroyed her so well she can barely walk anymore. "You're fantastic, Minnie," you praise her. "The best whore I've ever fucked," you tell her.

"One more round and I'm done," you tell Minnie, bringing her back to where everything started, bending her against the hood of the car and fucking her ass one last time. "FUCK, FUCK, YES, PLEASE," she begs. "You make me so fucking nasty," she tells you.

"Tell me what you are," you say to Minnie as you spank her ass. "I'M YOUR FUCKING TOY DADDY; I'M YOUR FUCKING TOY," she tells you. "Open your ass," you tell her. "Keep saying it," you tell her, pinning Minnie against the hood of the car. "I'M YOUR LITTLE FUCKING TOY, DADDY, AHHH, AHHHH," she moans, her head smashed on the hood while you pound her ass like an animal. "AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH," she moans.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you groan. "Give it to me, cum all over my face," Minnie begs as she senses you close to cumming. Soon, you ejaculate all over her beautiful face, ruining it even further as you slap your cock all over it afterward. "Take it in your throat, you nasty toy," you say to her, showing your cock one more time down it. Minnie gasps as she gags on your cock, her face turned into an utter mess.

"That was incredible," you tell Minnie, rewarding her with your cock until she gags, shoving your balls down her mouth as her face is now covered in cum and spit. "That's the best cock I've ever taken," she says.

"You can go inside now," you tell Minnie, handing her your jacket and giving the rest of the security the commands to let her through, keeping her panties as a trophy just like you intended to.

As Minnie arrives at the party, she meets her groupmates.

"You're quite late," Miyeon tells her. "I had some issues," Minnie answers before both of them head to the bathroom and Minnie wipes her face full of cum.

"Miyeon, can I ask you for a favor?" Minnie tells her.

"Sure," the older girl answers.

"Can you please give me your panties? I lost mine on the way to the party."

#minnie smut #gidle smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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cuntyji · 5 months ago

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CUPID'S DUMBEST SOLIDER ౨ৎ RYOMEN SUKUNA X READER

summary: ryomen sukuna, king of the school and reigning bad boy extraordinaire, has one rule: prom is for losers. but apparently, his too-good-to-be-true girlfriend (seriously, what are you doing with him?) thinks promposals are cute. so now he’s stuck planning the most over-the-top, cringe-inducing spectacle known to mankind. armed with zero artistic talent, a ton of misplaced confidence, and multiple dumb ideas, sukuna’s on a mission to prove that he’s boyfriend material. will he survive the humiliation of public vulnerability? will his classmates ever stop laughing at him? and more importantly, will you even say yes after watching him trip over his own ego mid-promposal? spoiler alert: sukuna might hate prom, but he doesn’t hate you — just don’t tell anyone or his bad boy reputation is toast.

warnings & tags: all characters except yuuji are high-schoolers [aged eighteen]. 100% sfw and crack. lots of high-school and social media related drama. sukuna is ooc but he's a loverboy. slight angst, misccommunication and misunderstanding, reader gets bullied. mentions of drugs & vaping. reader is sort of preppy [only when compared to sukuna], implied stsg and tomema. mentions of: yuuji, choso, gojo, geto, shoko, nanami, toji (zenin), naoya, yorozu, mei mei, uraume, mamaguro, wasuke itadori, mai and maki zenin.

a/n: i'm writing this because i'm thinking about my last year of highschool a lot. please enjoy <3

‼️i recommend reading on ao3 :) thank you for being here!

chapter one: love at first “you’re kidding, right?”

prom sucks.

sukuna's decided this long before he even knew what it was, back when he was a kid and thought dances were just for the weak. now? the banners are inescapable, plastered on every wall like wanted posters, except the only crime being committed is how much glitter they used. seriously, who thought this level of sparkle was necessary? he doesn’t even want to look at them, let alone read the overly enthusiastic “prom countdown” in bold bubble letters.

but here’s the kicker—you’re excited.

you. his girlfriend. the only person he’s ever willingly given his jersey to, the one he pretends not to care about but secretly loses his mind if you’re even five minutes late to meet him after practice. you’re actually grinning at the posters, casually mentioning how it might be “fun.”

fun. the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth, much like the time he accidentally puffed on his teammate’s fruit-flavored vape, pretending he didn’t low-key enjoy it. and now, just like back then, sukuna refuses to admit the truth: the idea of seeing you all dressed up, looking at him like he’s worth more than a fistfight and a bad attitude, is enough to make his brain short-circuit.

“you know,” you say one day, glancing over your shoulder at him as you tug on his sleeve. “prom doesn’t have to be a big deal. it’s just one night.”

“then why’s everyone acting like it’s the olympics?” he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. he keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, not on the way your smile softens like you already know what’s going on in his head.

because of course you know. you always know. it’s annoying.

but the thing is, sukuna’s always been a fighter. he knows how to take a hit, how to deliver one back, how to keep moving even when his ribs feel like they’re cracking under the pressure. this, though? asking you to prom? it feels like trying to fight blindfolded in a ring full of glitter bombs.

“you’re thinking too hard about it,” you tease, leaning closer, and he has to resist the urge to snap back with something sarcastic. instead, he just grumbles something incoherent, hoping you’ll drop the subject.

spoiler: you don’t.

“come on, it might surprise you,” you add, giving him that look—the one that makes his chest feel annoyingly tight and his brain feel like it’s melting. and just like that, sukuna knows he’s doomed. he doesn’t even know how you managed to turn this whole thing around, but here he is, contemplating how to ask you to prom like it’s some epic quest.

but for now? he’ll just keep glaring at the posters, convincing himself it’s all for you. definitely not because he’s secretly imagining what it’d be like to see you under those stupid lights.

yeah. that’s it. it’s for you.

why is sukuna losing his absolute mind over asking you, of all people, to prom? it’s not like you’re some untouchable deity perched on a golden throne. you’re just you—the one person who’s seen him shirtless and sweaty post-practice and didn’t immediately gag. the one who has the audacity to call him “cute” after he’s just finished smashing someone’s face in and honestly? he still hasn’t forgiven you for that.

and yet, here he is, spiraling like a damn teenager—which, fine, he technically is, but that’s beside the point. this isn’t just prom. this is war. but why does it feel like he’s already lost?

he doesn’t even know when this whole “you and him” thing started.

oh wait. yes, he does.

cue the flashback: sukuna, bloody and bruised, crouched in an alley after picking a fight with college kids who were built like linebackers. he was sure this was it. the end. game over. then suddenly, you appeared, haloed by the sun.

or maybe that was just his swelling eye playing tricks on him.

“are you seriously bleeding again?” you’d said, hands on your hips like you were scolding a toddler who’d colored on the walls. you looked so annoyed, so unimpressed, so... angelic? he doesn’t know. blame the blood loss.

“what’s it to you?” he’d snarled, expecting you to walk away like everyone else. but instead, you crouched down, pulled out a first-aid kit from god-knows-where, and patched him up right there. like some feral stray, he’d just sat there and let you.

and then, because subtlety is not in sukuna’s vocabulary, he’d yelled at you a few weeks later to “just be my girl already,” fully prepared for rejection. except you’d said yes. casually. like it was no big deal.

liar. it was a huge deal. he’d wanted to cheer so loud they’d hear him across town. instead, he’d just grunted and said, “fine,” as if he hadn’t just won the lottery.

now, here’s the thing: sukuna doesn’t “do” feelings. or labels. or mushy crap like this. but somehow, you’ve made it your personal mission to take care of him, and the worst part? he lets you.

so, yeah, obviously he needs to “man up” and ask you to prom before some other idiot gets the idea. the thought of someone else—someone less deserving—getting to stand next to you in those ridiculous photos everyone takes? absolutely not.

but how is he supposed to ask you?

“hey, wanna go to prom?” no. too boring.

“you and me. prom. be there.” god, no. too aggressive.

“i’ll fight anyone who tries to take you if you say yes.” okay, maybe, but he doesn’t want to scare you.

and what if you say no? …no, scratch that. you wouldn’t. right?

“why do you look constipated?” your voice pulls him out of his internal chaos, and he realizes he’s been frowning so hard his face hurts.

“shut up,” he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. you just laugh, that soft little sound that makes his chest feel annoyingly warm. “you’re so silly sometimes.”

silly? silly? sukuna’s this close to snapping back, but he bites his tongue. for now. he’ll figure it out. eventually. probably.

unless someone else beats him to it.

nope. not happening. over his dead body.

chapter two: swipe, stress, repeat

if sukuna from a month ago could see sukuna right now, he'd be frothing at the mouth. the self-proclaimed king of school, the untouchable badass who spent his time punching people and skipping class, reduced to lying in his bed, phone clutched in hand, scrolling through tiktok like some lovesick idiot?

embarrassing. absolutely humiliating.

the guy would’ve torn his own future self apart, verbally and probably physically, for this kind of behavior. but present-day sukuna? he couldn’t care less. if past sukuna had a problem, he could take it up with the tiktok algorithm because, damn it, he was busy right now.

sukuna's room is peak sukuna. the walls are painted a deep gray—an edgy, brooding shade that screams “it’s not a phase mom,” and yet the color somehow sets off the aggressively pink hello kitty lamp on his bedside table. don’t ask why he has it. it’s your fault, anyway, since you bought it for him, and when he told you he wouldn’t use it, you pouted. now the damn thing stays on every night.

his bed is a mess of black sheets, crumpled in a way that suggests he both sleeps like a starfish and fights imaginary enemies in his dreams. the single poster above his bed is of some obscure underground metal band you probably pretend to care about when he rants, but the corner is peeling because he’s too lazy to fix it.

on the desk? chaos. protein powder tubs, half-used cologne bottles, random dumbbells, and a notebook that’s only ever been opened once—probably because he mistook it for a coaster. nestled among this battlefield of masculinity is his phone charger, tangled in a knot that somehow feels symbolic of his life choices.

but let’s talk about the tiktok doom scrolling session. sprawled on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, sukuna clears out his notifications, which are predictably 90% you tagging him in ridiculous couple reels. “this is us <3,” you captioned one, featuring two lopsided cartoon bananas cuddling. another one? a video of raccoons stealing food with the words “me and you robbing mcdonald’s after your practice :3” plastered over it. he groans loudly but still clicks the tag, because god forbid he misses one.

and then he sees it: the initials trend. he stumbles across a video with the letters r + your initial floating on-screen, surrounded by sparkly hearts. it takes him a solid two tries, but when the stupid thing finally lands on the right combination, sukuna practically slams the save button. the smug grin on his face could rival the one he wears after winning a fight. “got it,” he mutters to himself, as if he’s achieved something monumental. and maybe he has—because nothing screams romance like a tiktok filter confirming your undying love. his phone buzzes again, and it’s you, sending yet another video. he opens it, and it’s a clip of two fat seals flopping in the water together. “this is us,” you text, followed by a string of hearts. sukuna lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “you’re so dumb,” he mutters, even as he saves the video.

but tonight, sukuna is a man on a mission. a stupid mission, in his humble opinion, but one he’s reluctantly accepted because of you.

his night started the same as it always does lately—on call with you while you go through your nightly skincare routine. he pretends not to care, half-listening as you ramble about serums and exfoliators, but if anyone asked why he knows the difference between niacinamide and retinol now, he’d deny it with his whole chest. “okay, goodnight,” you say eventually, and he feels weirdly warm when you pause, waiting for his reply. “yeah, yeah. goodnight,” he mutters, then sends you a five-line-long text he drafts with the precision of a tactical operation. it’s disgustingly sweet, full of things so cheesy he could probably use it as a weapon in a fight.

of course, he ends it with a selfie—him lying on his bed, shirtless but casual, because he knows you eat up this couple-y nonsense. “cute,” you reply immediately, followed by a flurry of heart emojis that make him roll his eyes and grin at the same time. with that out of the way, it’s doom scrolling time.

but tonight isn’t about your endless tags of raccoon memes or seal videos. no, tonight, sukuna is diving into the depths of promposal content.

his room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of his phone and the offensively pink hello kitty lamp on his bedside table. the contrast between the lamp and his deep gray walls is glaring, but he’s gotten used to it—he even mumbles a “thanks, kitty” when he turns it off at night. sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by a haphazard array of items—a half-empty protein shake, a stray dumbbell, and a random sock he’s too lazy to find the pair for—he scrolls through tiktok like a man possessed.

promposals flood his feed, one after the other, and his frown deepens with every video. flowers, posters, confetti—it’s all the same. one boy after another holding a sparkly sign with some cheesy pickup line, and a group of random bystanders shrieking like it’s the second coming of christ. “yuck,” he mutters under his breath, barely noticing when he tosses his dumbbell off the bed with a loud thud! “this is how people live? pathetic.”

then he sees it: a video of a guy holding a giant poster that reads, “are you a parking ticket? because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

sukuna’s jaw drops. “oh, hell no.”

without thinking, he types out a comment: “i can do better.” and when the notifications flood in from strangers defending the boy’s cringe-worthy effort, he actually guffaws, shaking his head in sadistic satisfaction. but then a thought strikes him. what if this is what you expect? what if you want the cheesy pickup line, the sparkly poster, the ridiculous crowd cheering you on? the idea makes him physically recoil, but he can’t ignore the tiny voice in his head whispering, it’s for her.

and when he exits tiktok, his matching hello kitty profile picture with you stares back at him, painfully cute and obnoxiously pink. it’s a sharp contrast to the guy who spent ten minutes this morning threatening his neighbor’s dog for barking too much.

groaning, he sets an alarm on his phone for tomorrow morning. “five hours of sleep,” he mutters to himself, glaring at the clock like it’s personally offended him. with a dramatic sigh, he reaches over and switches off the hello kitty lamp. the room plunges into darkness, but his mind is already racing, plotting ways to outdo every cringe-worthy promposal he’s seen.

you’d better appreciate this, he thinks, punching his pillow into shape before flopping onto it. because if sukuna’s doing this, he’s going to do it better than anyone else.

—

the next day, sukuna wakes up with the vague hope that he’ll somehow embody the effortlessly cool energy of those coming-of-age movie protagonists you seem to fawn over. the universe, however, has other plans. his “cool boy” morning routine includes stubbing his toe on the corner of his bed, swearing loudly enough to make the neighbor’s dog bark, and grabbing a shampoo bottle to wash his face before realizing, mid-lather, that something isn’t right.

by the time he’s dressed in a ratty old lakers jersey his mom gave him ages ago (that’s definitely seen better days), he’s already on edge. he triple-checks that the beaded bracelet you made him is securely on his wrist. one time, he forgot it in the abyss of his bag, and you didn’t talk to him for all of lunch period. the memory alone makes him shudder. high school relationships are no joke; he’s convinced they’re scarier than any fight he’s been in. “yuuji!” he bellows, dragging his seven-year-old brother by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving cat. “we’re gonna miss the bus!”

“but i’m watching powaaaaa rangerrrrsssss!” yuuji wails, kicking his legs in protest. for the fifth time. in a row.

“i don’t care if they’re morphin’ again for the hundredth time,” sukuna snaps, hauling the squirming kid out the door.

once on the school bus, sukuna practically shoves yuuji into the front seat with his group of loud, chaotic little friends—toge, the broody one, and nobara, the one who’s probably already plotting world domination. “don’t cause trouble,” he growls, earning a cheeky grin from nobara and a half-hearted glare from toge. then, sukuna retreats to his rightful throne in the backseat. people probably think he’s texting some gang leader to set up a fight or maybe coordinating a weed deal. but no. you know what he’s actually doing?

writing you the sappiest good morning text imaginable.

with his phone held at a suspicious angle, he types furiously:

good mornin sunshine ❤️❤️❤️ sorry this is late. woke up thinking about you and totally forgot how to function lol. you’re probably already looking perfect but don’t forget to eat breakfast okay???? can’t have my girl passing out and making me look bad 😏. also did i ever tell you your bedhead is cute? bc it is. anyway have a good day baby i’ll see you in school soon. love you.

he stares at it, debating whether it’s too much. but then again, you’re the type who sends him texts like, “did you know sharks existed before trees? good morning !! <3 :3” so he figures he’s safe. after hitting send, he leans back with a satisfied smirk, like he’s just conquered the world. if anyone dares to ask, he’ll lie through his teeth about what he’s doing. but deep down, sukuna knows he’s whipped. totally and utterly.

—

sukuna’s morning ritual of chaos continues as he practically shoves yuuji toward the elementary school section, muttering curses under his breath while dodging questions about his bracelet.

“but when can i get tattoos like yours?” yuuji asks, for the millionth time this week.

“never,” sukuna snaps, ruffling yuuji’s hair just hard enough to mess it up.

“but why nooottt?” yuuji whines, pouting. “they’re cool! toge said they make you look like a bad guy!”

“tell toge to mind his own damn business,” sukuna growls, ignoring the way yuuji’s tiny friends scatter at the mere sight of him. when one of the kids starts crying, he scoffs loudly. elementary schoolers are weak.

with yuuji safely deposited, sukuna sprints—yes, sprints—to the high school section, expertly weaving through crowds of students. if anyone asks, he’ll say it’s because he’s late to class, but really, he’s looking for you.

when he spots you at your locker, a familiar warmth floods his chest, but he quickly shoves it down, replacing it with a carefully practiced scowl. if sukuna could have it his way, he’d profess his undying love for you in the most dramatic way possible—on his knees, quoting some shakespeare nonsense about your ethereal beauty or whatever the old dead guy used to write about. but alas, his bad boy reputation is at stake.

so instead, he settles for a gruff, “yo,” as he leans against the locker next to yours, arms crossed, trying to look casual. you glance up, smiling brightly. “morning! did you sleep okay?”

“yeah,” he lies, conveniently forgetting the part where he only got five hours of sleep because of tiktok research.

you go on, oblivious to the way he’s fighting the urge to smile like an idiot. “ugghhh, i got up five minutes late today. five whole minutes!” you pause dramatically. “so i didn’t have time to pack my stationery, and now i have to use my backup stationery pouch from my locker. do you know how annoying that is?”

“devastating,” sukuna deadpans, nodding solemnly. “truly, the world is cruel.”

“right?” you huff, pulling the pouch from your locker. “like, what if the backup doesn’t have my favorite pens? what am i supposed to do then?”

he watches you, amused, as you rummage through your locker like your life depends on it. secretly, he loves how animated you get over the smallest things, but god forbid anyone else find out. “wish i had backups,” he mutters, half to himself. “my locker’s just got junk. extra shoes, pants, a charger, and, uh…” he pauses, eyeing you carefully. “a vape.”

you turn to him, raising an eyebrow. “a vape?”

“it’s not mine,” he says quickly, standing straighter. “holding it for a friend.”

“sure,” you tease, smirking. “it’s true!” he insists, trying to look indignant but failing because you’re smiling at him, and it’s making his brain short-circuit.

as you shut your locker, you start rambling about your next class, and sukuna does what he does best—stands close, nods occasionally, and tries to act nonchalant. inside, though, he’s cataloging every word you say like it’s gospel, marveling at how even your complaints sound cute. he stuffs his hands in his pockets, pretending not to care, but the truth is written all over his face: sukuna is hopelessly, ridiculously in love. and it’s a problem he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

as you and sukuna make your way down the hallway, everything seems normal—or as normal as a high school hallway can get. the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, lockers slam shut, and a cluster of juniors are trying to tape a "kick me" sign to someone’s back. sukuna’s tuned most of it out, but that’s when the universe decides to test his patience. smack dab in the middle of the hallway, it happens.

“oh my god!” you squeal, tugging on sukuna’s sleeve.

he already hates this.

in front of you both, a whole crowd has gathered. there are girls crying into their hands, boys hooting like it’s a football game, and teachers yelling about how this is a fire hazard, which no one is listening to. and at the epicenter of it all is none other than gojo satoru.

“suguru!” gojo announces, holding up a bucket of kfc chicken in one hand and a bouquet of roses made entirely out of dollar bills in the other. “you’re the butter to my biscuit, the drumstick to my chicken, and the love of my life! if you don’t go to prom with me, i’ll throw myself into oncoming traffic!”

“oh my god, he’s so dramatic,” you whisper to sukuna, but your voice is dripping with excitement. “this is adorable!” sukuna blinks at the scene, trying to process what’s happening. “adorable? this is a migraine waiting to happen.”

meanwhile, geto—poor, unsuspecting geto—is standing there looking like he’s debating whether to run or laugh. “satoru, what the hell?” he finally manages, his voice somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“it’s love, suguru!” gojo declares, dropping to one knee for added effect. “say yes, or i’ll never recover!”

“that’s definitely not true,” sukuna mutters under his breath.

“shh!” you scold, hitting his arm lightly. “this is so cute!”

“it’s cringe,” sukuna grumbles. “he’s holding chicken.”

“the chicken makes it better!”

“the chicken makes it worse,” sukuna counters, crossing his arms. but he can’t deny that the bouquet of dollar bills is kind of genius. if he had to respect one thing, it’s that. geto sighs loudly, clearly resigned to his fate.

“fine,” he says, shaking his head but unable to hide the small smile on his face. “i’ll go to prom with you, satoru.”

the hallway erupts.

girls start crying harder, like their hearts have been ripped out of their chests. “geto’s off the market!” one of them wails, collapsing into her friend’s arms. the boys cheer, probably just glad they don’t have to be involved in anything like this. and gojo? gojo lets out a triumphant yell, pumping his fist in the air. “i told you he loves me!” their friend group immediately piles on, clapping geto on the back and hyping up gojo like he just won the lottery. you, meanwhile, are clutching sukuna’s arm and bouncing on your toes. “oh my god, that was so cute!” you gush. “did you see the chicken? and the bouquet? sukuna, that was so sweet!”

sukuna looks at you, then at the chaos, then back at you. he feels a headache creeping in. “sweet? that was... loud.”

“you’re impossible,” you say, laughing as you let go of his arm to keep walking.

but sukuna isn’t laughing. oh no, because now there’s a new problem: he has to top that. as he follows you down the hallway, he rubs his temples, muttering to himself. “chicken and dollar bills. great. what’s next? fireworks? a live band? a damn parade?”

you glance back at him, raising an eyebrow. “what are you mumbling about?”

“nothing,” he snaps, quickening his pace to catch up.

but inside, he’s panicking. topping gojo satoru’s level of absurdity is a tall order, and sukuna isn’t sure whether to be pissed off or impressed. probably both. one thing’s for sure, though: he has his work cut out for him.

sukuna finally wades through the chaos of the hallway—largely composed of gojo clinging to geto’s foot like a very loud termite—and drops you off at your first class of the day: english language and literature. you sigh dramatically, digging through your bag and muttering about how your lack of highlighters is basically a crime against academia. “how am i supposed to annotate macbeth without my stationary pouch?”

sukuna, leaning against your desk with all the casual confidence in the world, rolls his eyes. “it’s not that deep.” but then, in a move that makes you freeze, he pulls a neon highlighter out of his pocket and tosses it to you. “use that,” he grunts, like he just handed you a scrap of paper, not an intimate act of love.

you blink at the highlighter, then at him, like he just gifted you the moon. “did you just—where did you even get this?”

“don’t ask questions,” he snaps, already looking like he regrets the decision. (he definitely stole it from someone’s pouch months ago.) but you’re staring at him with so much adoration it’s almost embarrassing.

“this is... this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me.”

sukuna freezes. “you’re joking.”

“i’m not joking.”

he looks like he’s questioning every life choice that brought him here, but before he can respond, his phone buzzes in his pocket. it’s a text from toji zenin. the message is cryptic and infuriatingly vague: “grounds. now.”

sukuna sighs loudly, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “gotta go,” he mutters. he leans down and plants a quick kiss on your cheek before bolting out the door, and you both freeze for half a second, equally flustered. “uh—bye!” you call after him as he practically sprints out of the classroom, the beads on his bracelet jingling against his wrist.

by the time sukuna reaches the school grounds, he’s already mentally prepared for a fight. he’s even got his tough guy face on—jaw clenched, shoulders squared, the works.

but when he spots toji zenin and shiu kong standing by the bleachers, something feels off. toji isn’t cracking his knuckles or smirking like usual. instead, he’s pacing, running a hand through his hair like he’s stressed.

sukuna narrows his eyes. “what the hell is this? if this is another one of your stupid pranks, i’m decking you both.”

“relax,” toji says, holding up his hands. “i’m not here to fight.”

“yet,” shiu mutters, earning a glare from toji. sukuna crosses his arms. “then what do you want?”

toji looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is listening. then, in a voice so low sukuna almost doesn’t hear it, he says, “i need your help.”

sukuna blinks. “what?”

“you heard me.”

“no, i definitely didn’t. because it sounded like you said you need my help.”

“i did.” toji looks like admitting it physically hurts him. “look, it’s about fushiguro.”

sukuna raises an eyebrow. “who?”

“you know, my... my...” he gestures vaguely. “crush.”

sukuna stares at him. “you dragged me out here to talk about your love life?”

toji groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “listen, it’s not that simple. i need your help to... to bully her.”

“...what?”

“bully her,” toji repeats, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “you know, make her life miserable so i can swoop in and save the day. it’s foolproof!” sukuna stares at him for a long moment, trying to process the sheer idiocy of what he just heard.

“you want me to bully your crush so you can play knight in shining armor?”

“exactly.”

“you’re an idiot.”

“c’mon, sukuna,” toji pleads. “you’re good at the whole intimidation thing! you don’t even have to go hard, just—”

“no.”

“but—”

“no.”

shiu snickers from the sidelines. “told you he wouldn’t do it.” toji glares at him, then turns back to sukuna. “fine. then give me advice or something! how am i supposed to ask her to prom?”

“i don’t know, maybe try not bullying her?”

“wow, thanks for the groundbreaking advice,” toji says, deadpan. sukuna rolls his eyes. “look, just—give her something she likes. flowers, chocolates, whatever. don’t overthink it.”

“flowers? chocolates? what is this, a rom-com?” toji scoffs.

“then figure it out yourself,” sukuna snaps, already turning to leave. “i’ve got better things to do.”

“like what?”

“none of your business.” sukuna snaps, already regretting every second of this interaction.

this is the point where toji is wailing, absolutely wailing, and it’s honestly one of the worst things sukuna’s had to witness, and he once saw yuuji eat spaghetti with his hands.

“you don’t get it, sukuna!” toji cries, pacing back and forth. “if i don’t get fushiguro—mamaguro, the love of my life—i’ll look like a fool for calling myself toji fushiguro all year! do you know how many people think we’re already married? do you understand the pressure?”

“no,” sukuna deadpans, crossing his arms. “because i’m not insane.”

“this is a matter of marriage or death,” toji insists, dramatic as ever. “marriage! or! death!”

shiu, leaning against the bleachers, snickers. “it’s more like marriage or public humiliation, but yeah, sure, toji. go off.”

“shut up, shiu!” toji snaps. then, in the most embarrassing move yet, he turns back to sukuna, clutching his arm like he’s begging a god for salvation. “please, sukuna. please. i’ll do anything!”

sukuna yanks his arm back with a grimace. “don’t touch me.”

“i’ll pay you,” toji adds, desperate now. “how much do you want?” shiu, ever the opportunist, pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket. “i’ll double whatever you’re thinking.”

sukuna glares at him, then at the money, then back at toji, who’s practically vibrating with nerves. the sheer audacity of these people.

“what do you two think i am?” sukuna growls, stepping closer. “someone you can just buy?”

toji and shiu exchange a look.

“yes,” they say in unison.

“you’re not wrong,” sukuna mutters, snatching the cash out of shiu’s hand.

and that’s how sukuna finds himself storming into the art room, where fushiguro—lovingly dubbed mamaguro by the school fraternity, who is also the unknowing subject of toji’s unhinged obsession—is peacefully painting a landscape.

“yo,” sukuna calls, making sure his voice sounds just gruff enough to make an impression. mamaguro looks up, confused but polite as ever. “oh, sukuna. what brings you here?”

“uh…” sukuna falters for half a second. then, remembering the script toji forced on him, he clears his throat. “your art sucks.”

mamaguro blinks at him. “excuse me?”

“you heard me,” sukuna says, louder this time. “these clouds? they look like—like… mashed potatoes!”

“mashed potatoes?” she repeats, her tone teetering between disbelief and amusement.

“yeah! and this—this tree? it’s—it’s… ugly!”

he’s running out of insults fast, but thankfully, he doesn’t have to keep going because, right on cue, toji bursts into the room like a man possessed.

“stop right there, sukuna!” toji yells, pointing dramatically.

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard he nearly pulls something.

“how dare you insult her art?” toji continues, marching forward. “you know nothing of the beauty and grace she pours into every stroke of her brush! apologize to her, right now!”

sukuna glances at mamaguro, who’s now staring at toji like he’s grown a second head.

“um…” she starts, clearly confused.

“and not only that,” toji adds, dropping to one knee, “i, toji fushig– i mean, zenin, would be honored if you would accompany me to prom!”

the silence that follows is deafening.

“…what?” mamaguro says, her voice a mix of shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“say yes, please,” toji begs, still on his knee.

sukuna takes this as his cue to leave before his brain cells start dying en masse. as he walks out, he hears a mixture of toji’s frantic pleading, mamaguro’s incredulous laughter, and shiu’s obnoxious whooping from the hallway. “cringe,” sukuna mutters to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. on the way out, he snatches the rest of the wad of cash from shiu’s hand. the guy doesn’t even protest; he’s too busy recording the whole disaster on his phone.

normally, sukuna would use this cash for something like a new vape or a pack of cigarettes. but now? now he’s a man with a mission. he’s going to use this money for your promposal.

assuming he can think of something. preferably something that doesn’t involve dollar bill bouquets or public humiliation.

as sukuna storms off the art room steps, he’s already thinking of how he could possibly top the circus act he just witnessed. whatever he comes up with has to be cool, low-key, and—most importantly—not the type of thing that makes people point and say, "look at ryomen sukuna doing that." because if there’s one thing sukuna won’t tolerate, it’s losing to toji zenin in a battle of charm.

he stuffs the cash into his pocket, muttering to himself, “this better be worth it.” and by "this," he means putting up with high school drama, helping idiots like toji, and figuring out the best way to ask you to prom without looking like a total sap.

little does he know, shiu is already uploading the footage of toji’s “promposal” disaster onto his burner account with the caption: “zenin family downfall: live footage.”

and in the back of his mind, sukuna knows one thing for sure—he needs to act fast. whatever he does has to blow everyone away, especially you.

—

sukuna leans against the wall outside the school gates, trying to look as nonchalant as humanly possible despite the fact that his brain is doing cartwheels. his day’s been an absolute dumpster fire—between toji’s soap opera, shiu’s cryptic smirks, and some freshman mistaking him for a guidance counselor (how? how does that even happen?), he’s just about had it. and then, like the climax of one of those rom-coms you force him to watch, you step out of the school building. sukuna swears he hears a choir of angels, some harp strings, and maybe even sees a glowing halo over your head.

but of course, he’s ryomen sukuna, and he’s supposed to be the "bad boy." so instead of saying something poetic like, “you’re the light of my life,” he settles on:

“what the hell took you so long?”

your indignant pout hits him like a sucker punch, and he immediately regrets his choice of words. “excuse me, mister,” you huff, hands on your hips. “i was finishing my community service hours.”

“community service?” sukuna raises a brow. “what’d you do this time? steal a library book? jaywalk?”

you roll your eyes. “not everyone’s a delinquent like you, ‘kuna. i was helping clean up the school garden.”

“right. of course you were.” sukuna mutters, trying to ignore the sharp contrast between the two of you. while you’re out here being a model student with a résumé the size of a textbook, sukuna’s résumé might as well just say “can punch really hard.”

you don’t notice his inner turmoil as you launch into your usual spiel about your packed schedule. “so after that, i had drama club practice, then i’m helping with the fundraiser for the library, and then i have to—”

sukuna zones out for a second, overwhelmed by the sheer productivity radiating off of you. jesus, she’s a walking linkedin profile, he thinks, mentally comparing your extracurriculars to his…well, lack thereof. unless fistfights, bad decisions, and looking hot in leather count as extracurriculars.

“—and next week i’m presenting at the school board meeting!” you finish, beaming.

“you know, some of us don’t have time to kiss ass,” sukuna mutters under his breath, though there’s no malice in it.

“what was that?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, reaching out to grab your hand before he can think too much about it. he gives it a small squeeze, hoping it’ll shut up the voice in his head that’s been nagging him all day. you glance down at your intertwined hands, your expression softening. “you okay?”

“yeah, fine,” sukuna lies, looking away so you don’t catch the slight pink tint creeping up his ears. you let it slide, leaning closer as you walk beside him. “you know, you don’t have to wait for me every day.”

“and let some idiot try to ask you out while i’m not around? yeah, right.”

you laugh, and sukuna feels his chest loosen a little.

“you’re silly,” you say, swinging his hand a little as you walk.

“and you’re too good for me,” sukuna blurts out before he can stop himself.

you stop in your tracks, blinking up at him. “what?”

“uh—nothing,” he says quickly, his brain screaming at him to shut up. but you don’t let it go. you tighten your grip on his hand and give him a look so sincere it nearly floors him. “sukuna, i like you for you, okay? not for some résumé or checklist or whatever you’re overthinking right now.”

“who says i’m overthinking?”

“your face.”

sukuna scoffs, trying to mask the relief that washes over him. “yeah, well. you’re lucky i like you too.”

you grin, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and sukuna swears he hears those angel singing again. maybe you really are untouchable, he thinks. but then again, you’re holding his hand, choosing him out of everyone else. and maybe that’s what true love is—messy, imperfect, and way too good to be true.

—

sukuna stumbles into his room after the long, exhausting day. his feet drag on the floor as he sheds his jacket, but leaves his shoes on—he's too tired to even care about a single thing right now. his bed looks like a warzone, clothes scattered across the floor in what can only be described as a "i’m a badass" fashion, but anyone who’s seen it knows it’s just laziness masked as chaos.

one of his dumbass bandanas is hanging off the lamp, and his hello kitty nightlight still glows faintly by his desk, casting a strange aura around the room. a vape lies carelessly tossed beside his pillow, some loose change, and a stack of junk food wrappers. he’d never admit it, but there’s a half-open box of chocolate chip cookies on his nightstand because, surprise surprise, he bought it for you earlier but kept it for himself when you weren’t looking.

ryomen sukuna, ladies and gentlemen.

plopping down onto his bed, he lazily scrolls through his phone before flopping down, leaving the screen bright enough to nearly fry his eyes. as if the day wasn’t already overwhelming enough, now he’s doing something even dumber. he opens discord.

and without thinking twice, sends a message to uraume, the e-friend he’s been talking to for months, mostly while they’ve been playing apex legends. he had no clue how this strange friendship even started, but honestly? uraume was sarcastic, annoying in a way that made him laugh, and didn’t take his “bad boy” persona too seriously.

he leans back, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, holding the vape in his mouth while scrolling mindlessly through tiktok videos, making mental notes about the stuff you liked—stuff like cheesy couple memes, random boyfriend-girlfriend skits, and, of course, the tiktok videos of couples doing those “promposals.” sighing dramatically, he sends the message to uraume.

kingofcursezz: yo kingofcursezz: how the hell do you ask someone to prom without making it cringey kingofcursezz: help me out bro kingofcursezz: i'm trying to avoid looking like an idiot

he exhales a puff of smoke, irritated with himself for even reaching out to uraume about this. this is beneath him. but the thought of you—and how you’re so sweet, how you deserve the best….

yeah... he can’t screw this up. not now, not after all the effort.

his phone pings with a reply, and sukuna, having put it off for a second, glances down at the screen:

starume666: LOL starume666: are you seriously asking me this?

kingofcursezz: if you don’t help istg i’ll show up with a bucket of chicken and a bouquet of dollar bills. that’s my backup plan so you better give me something good.

he pauses to let out a tired, humorless laugh as he wipes his face. god, he’s not gonna survive this.

starume666: lmaooooo starume666: dude you’re way too hard on yourself starume666: just do smth simple but meaningful starume666: what’s the thing you know will make her smile?

kingofcursezz: uhhhhhhh kingofcursezz: how about not being a weirdo who doesn’t know what the fuck a promposal is? kingofcursezz: i’ll be the guy in the background who just buys her flowers and does the bare minimum like some jock that’s been forced into this tradition 💀💀💀💀

starume666: yeah but you’re not a jock bro starume666: you’re a bad boy 😹 so act like it starume666: maybe do something unexpected n go off-script.

kingofcursezz: i mean ig she’ll like it if i show up in a full suit kingofcursezz: but i don’t have a tux so kingofcursezz: 💀

starume666: i swear if you don’t do this right i’m flying to your school and putting a bucket of kfc on your doorstep starume666: figure out what she likes and then do that. just be honest dude.

kingofcursezz: okok fine kingofcursezz: i’ll show up and do smth kingofcursezz: if you could stop texting me like my mom, that’d be great.

starume666: [reacted 😹 to your message]

sukuna rolls his eyes as the conversation ends, staring at his phone for a long while. he can’t help but think about you and the fact that he might actually care enough to make this promposal thing work. he shakes his head and grins at the absurdity of it all. for you, though? he’ll do anything. even if it means figuring out how to pull off the world’s least embarrassing promposal.

with that, he flicks his vape one last time, sits up, and starts brainstorming—maybe a simple bouquet? or, wait—does she even like roses? the inner turmoil continues, but one thing's for sure: he’s committed to this, for you.

chapter three: flowers are expensive, but regret is worse

sukuna’s day is just one monotonous loop of chaos, like some cruelly predictable high school sitcom. the cycle starts as usual: he drags yuuji, still wailing about his half-finished power rangers episode, onto the bus. the kid still begs for face tattoos, and sukuna swears he’s about to lose his mind if yuuji brings it up again. after that, he waits for you by the school gates like some lovesick loser who’s too proud to admit it, walks you to class, and then spends the rest of his day dodging every cheesy, cringe-worthy promposal happening at every corner.

but today? today, he’s got a mission. because apparently, the hellscape of high school doesn’t just end at promposals. no, the school administration has to rub salt in the wound by charging $20 per ticket for prom.

$20. per person.

“are they funding a space program or what?” sukuna mutters under his breath as he trudges toward the admin desk, a wad of cash in hand. the admin, of course, isn’t at the desk. instead, gojo satoru is standing there, grinning ear to ear, holding a stack of offensively pink prom tickets. sukuna stops dead in his tracks.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” sukuna grumbles, glaring at gojo. “good morning to you too, sunshine!” gojo chirps, twirling the tickets between his fingers like he’s actually enjoying this. “what are you doing here?” sukuna asks, shoving the cash across the desk with zero ceremony.

“volunteering,” gojo says, batting his lashes as if he’s some kind of saint. “community service, you know? unlike you, i’m giving back to the school.”

“you mean they forced you here after you nearly set the chem lab on fire last month,” sukuna deadpans. gojo gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “how dare you? those were experiments! i’m a man of science, sukuna.”

“you’re a man of stupidity,” sukuna snaps, snatching the two tickets from gojo’s hand before he can start twirling them again. the pink nearly burns his eyes.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” gojo says, leaning over the desk like some smug cat. “you excited for prom? oh wait, let me guess. you’re one of those guys who’s too cool for prom, huh? you’re just going for your girlfriend’s sake, aren’t you? how adorable.”

sukuna grits his teeth, refusing to give gojo the satisfaction of a response. instead, he grabs the clipboard to sign his name and yours, hastily scrawling the details. “oh, and while you’re at it,” gojo continues, leaning further into sukuna’s personal space, “you should totally sign up for prom king. i mean, look at you. tattoos, brooding face, bad-boy aura. the people would eat it up.”

sukuna freezes, pen hovering over the clipboard. “prom king? really?”

“absolutely!” gojo beams. “and hey, if you win, you’ll get to dance with your queen on stage in front of the whole school. talk about a moment, right?” sukuna scoffs but signs his name anyway. not because of gojo, of course. but because there’s no way in hell he’s letting some random idiot stand next to you on stage as prom king.

gojo squints at the clipboard, noticing sukuna’s addition. “wait, you’re actually signing up? no way! oh my god, this is going to be epic. i can already see the headlines: ‘bad boy turned prom king—how sukuna stole the crown.’”

“shut up, gojo,” sukuna growls, shoving the clipboard back across the desk. “you got it, your majesty,” gojo smirks, giving a mock bow.

sukuna storms off, tickets in hand, muttering to himself about how much he hates this school. but deep down, he’s already imagining you as prom queen, standing beside him, both of you looking annoyingly perfect.

sukuna’s first instinct when he spots you walking toward him is to shove the glaringly pink prom tickets into his mouth and chew. problem solved. except, knowing his luck, you’d catch him mid-act, choke on the damn thing, and die right there in the middle of the hallway like some bad joke.

so, instead, he opts for plan b: stuffing the tickets into his shirt. brilliant. considering you’re shorter than him and can’t reach his chest, it’s practically foolproof. he adjusts the tickets awkwardly under his jersey, patting them down like some suspicious drug mule as you get closer. totally suave. totally inconspicuous.

“hey!” you chirp, completely oblivious to his internal crisis.“yo,” he grunts back, hands jammed into his pockets like they’ve been superglued there.

you squint at him. “...you okay? you’re standing like you’re hiding a bomb or something.”

“nah, i’m good,” sukuna says quickly, shifting his weight like he suddenly forgot “how to human.”

you tilt your head, but thankfully don’t push it. instead, you start talking about your day—something about a community service meeting and a teacher who forgot their own syllabus—and sukuna does his best to nod and grunt in all the right places. but his mind? it’s running a marathon.

how the hell is he supposed to propose?

the obvious answer is to just...hand you the tickets. easy, straightforward, zero theatrics. you’d say yes, because of course you would—it’s not like you’ve been subtle about dropping hints that you wanted him to ask you. but then he remembers the look on your face every time you watch one of those elaborate promposal videos on tiktok. the way your eyes light up, how you gush about the effort people put in, how cute it is.

and that’s when it hits him like a brick to the face: this isn’t about proving a point to the rest of the school, or even about outdoing gojo’s obnoxious stunt with geto. it’s about you. about making you smile, giving you a moment you’d remember fondly for years. he’s gotta do it right. for you.

but how?

his brain is a war zone of terrible ideas:

buy a giant teddy bear and make it hold the tickets? nah, too cutesy.

write a message in the sky? too broke.

pretend to lose the tickets and ‘find’ them in front of you? too stupid.

he realizes, with a sinking feeling, that this is why he’s been spiraling. because this whole relationship thing? it’s uncharted territory for him. you’re his first relationship, his first everything, and the last thing he wants to do is screw it up.

goddamn it.

you’re still talking when he zones back in, noticing the way you’re looking up at him expectantly. “...so? what do you think?”

“uh,” he says, blinking. “yeah. sounds good.”

“sukuna, i just asked if i should shave my head for charity,” you deadpan.

he stares at you, caught red-handed. “...no?”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, and he feels something in his chest unclench. for now, at least. he’s got until the end of the week to figure this out. totally doable. right?

wrong.

sukuna slumps onto the gym floor after basketball practice, sweat dripping off him like he’s just crawled out of a swamp. he grabs a water bottle, downs half of it, and tosses it aside like he’s starring in a gatorade commercial, all while muttering to himself, “this is a nightmare. i’m surrounded by idiots.”

“what’s the crisis this time, king sukuna?” naoya zenin drawls, leaning against the wall and doing absolutely nothing productive. the guy wouldn’t even break a sweat if his life depended on it, yet somehow he’s always the loudest voice in the room. “none of your business, zenin,” sukuna snaps, trying to ignore the fact that he even brought this up.

“aw, come on,” naoya smirks. “let me guess. girlfriend troubles? did she finally realize you’re all bark and no bite?”

sukuna shoots him a glare that could probably set someone on fire. “i’m trying to plan a prom-posal, dumbass.”

“oh, that’s why you look constipated,” toji pipes up from where he’s sprawled on the bleachers, looking like he’s auditioning for a mattress commercial. “need me to step in? i can bully her a little for you. worked like a charm with my mamaguro.”

“toji, shut the hell up before i make you swallow that smug look,” sukuna growls, though toji just chuckles, completely unfazed. “don’t listen to him,” nanami says, peeling off his sweatbands like he’s had it with everyone’s nonsense. “if you want a genuine suggestion, vogue says simplicity is key. a heartfelt speech, some flowers—”

“you’re reading vogue now?” geto interjects, raising an eyebrow.

“it was for a research paper,” nanami replies, deadpan. “and no, i will not elaborate.”

“you’re all useless,” sukuna groans, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. he turns to geto, the only one who hasn’t actively annoyed him yet. “what about you? you’re practically married to gojo at this point. what worked for you?” geto groans like he’s been asked to relive a traumatic experience.

“please, don’t remind me. the guy brought kfc and roses made of dollar bills. do you know how many times i’ve had to explain to people that i didn’t say yes because of the chicken?”

“but you still said yes,” toji points out, grinning like the devil himself.

“because he threatened to throw himself into traffic if i didn’t!” geto snaps, throwing his towel at toji’s face. “what was i supposed to do, let him die in front of the school?”

“yes,” sukuna mutters under his breath, earning a snort from nanami.

“look, you’ve got this,” nanami says, attempting to be the voice of reason. “just think about what she’d like. something meaningful. and maybe, just maybe, don’t get advice from this crowd.”

“i hate all of you,” sukuna announces, standing up and grabbing his bag. “but especially you, toji. never speak to me again.”

“love you too, bro,” toji calls out as sukuna stomps out of the gym, muttering curses under his breath. he’s no closer to a plan, but at least he’s 100% sure of one thing—he’s never asking these idiots for help again.

—

sukuna drags himself into the house, tossing his bag onto the floor like it’s personally offended him. the sound echoes through the living room, but yuuji doesn’t even flinch. the kid’s sprawled out on the couch, a juice box in one hand and the tv remote in the other, utterly engrossed in mean girls. “the hell are you watching?” sukuna asks, toeing off his shoes.

“mean girls,” yuuji replies, eyes glued to the screen. “it’s ‘bout some mean girls, duh.”

“you’re seven, yuuji. why are you watching a movie about high school drama?”

“’cause i gotta get ready for high school. duh again.”

sukuna rolls his eyes but stops when he catches the prom scene on the screen. his brows furrow as he watches. could this help? nope. just people dancing and some heartfelt speech about how everyone’s a queen or whatever. useless. he groans and flops onto the armchair, rubbing his temples. out of pure desperation—and because his brain’s running on fumes—he asks, “hey, yuuji, how would you ask someone to prom?”

yuuji pauses the movie and turns to him with the seriousness of a kid about to give the most groundbreaking advice in the universe. “easy! dress like their favorite power ranger.”

“what.”

“and then you go, ‘will you go to prom with me? hiya!’” yuuji does a karate chop for emphasis, nearly spilling his juice. “and if they say no… boom! mass destruckshin.”

“mass what?”

“mass destruckshin!” yuuji repeats, puffing his chest like he’s just dropped the most foolproof plan of the century. “you gotta show them you mean business!” sukuna stares at his brother, wondering if it’s possible to feel both amused and like his life is spiraling out of control at the same time.

“yeah, no. thanks for nothing, yuuji.”

“you’re welcome!” yuuji chirps, unpausing the movie. “don’t forget to do the hiya part!”

sukuna groans and leans back in the chair. he’s not about to karate chop his way into a promposal. that’s a one-way ticket to you dumping him on the spot. his mom would’ve been a better bet, but she’s probably halfway through her night shift by now—and even if she were here, she’d skip prom entirely and go straight to planning your wedding. he shudders at the thought. not because he doesn’t like the idea of marrying you—hell, the thought of you in a white dress has his brain short-circuiting—but because his mom would absolutely order a three-tier cake before you’d even said yes to a prom date. “get a grip, sukuna,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. prom first, wedding later. priorities.

yuuji, oblivious to his brother’s existential crisis, pipes up again. “hey, ‘kuna, if she says no, can i have your power ranger costume?”

“i’m not wearing a damn power ranger costume!” sukuna snaps, chucking a throw pillow at yuuji, who ducks with a laugh.

“okay, okay! fiinnnneee. but if you mess up, can i have your juice money?” sukuna glares at him. “shut up, yuuji.”

“love you too!” yuuji sing-songs, turning back to mean girls like nothing happened. and sukuna? he’s mentally preparing himself for what feels like the most important mission of his entire high school life.

—

sukuna woke up with the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged to a bath. it was the weekend—not the artist, fortunately, but the actual day—and the irony of hearing the weeknd's "reminder" on loop in his brain from all those tiktok promposals wasn’t lost on him. tiktok really had a way of making everything worse, didn’t it? he groaned, rubbing his face as he sat up in bed, his hair a complete mess and his shirt wrinkled from falling asleep in it.

“alright, flowers,” he muttered, standing and grabbing a hoodie off the floor. it was one of those old, oversized ones with some random logo he’d stolen from his cousin choso. paired with his basketball shorts and beat-up sneakers, sukuna looked like he was ready to run errands or rob a gas station—either worked.

the neighborhood was its usual weekend self—kids playing, dogs barking, and aunties gossiping by gates like it was their full-time job. sukuna stuck out like a sore thumb as he wandered from florist to florist, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, trying not to look like he was about to hold the place up.

his first stop was a quaint little flower shop with pastel walls and a ridiculously cheery name: bloom haven. sukuna stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the overpowering scent of roses and lilies. “good morning!” the florist, a middle-aged woman with a bright smile and an apron covered in flower prints, greeted him. “how can i help you today?”

“uhhh… bouquet?” sukuna said, voice low like he was ashamed to be seen in public buying flowers.

“wonderful! who’s the lucky someone?” she asked, practically sparkling with excitement. “just… someone,” he grumbled, glancing at a bucket of roses. “how much for these?”

“oh, roses are $5 per stem!” she chirped.

sukuna’s brain screeched to a halt. “five bucks? for one flower?”

“they’re premium quality!” she said, as if that justified daylight robbery.

“yeah, premium my ass,” he muttered under his breath, leaving the shop before she could try to sell him anything else.

the next place wasn’t much better. a hipster-owned flower truck parked near a cafe, blasting indie music and decorated with fairy lights. the owner had a man bun and greeted him with, “peace and petals, brother.”

sukuna hated him immediately.

“you got bouquets?” sukuna asked flatly.

“absolutely, bro. we handcraft our arrangements using sustainably sourced—”

“how much?” sukuna interrupted.

“oh, a bouquet starts at $45,” the guy said, like that wasn’t insane.

“forty-five?” sukuna’s voice cracked. “for flowers?”

“yeah, but they come with vibes,” man bun said, gesturing to the arrangements like they were ancient artifacts. sukuna turned on his heel and walked away, muttering, “i’ll give you vibes, idiot.”

by the time he’d hit his fourth florist, his mood was sourer than expired milk. flowers were so stupidly expensive. why did people even like them? they just died after a week. he considered the idea of pulling a tree out of the ground—free, big, dramatic. totally memorable. but then he imagined you looking at him like he’d lost his mind and immediately scrapped the plan.

“what are you even doing, sukuna?” he mumbled to himself, stopping on a street corner to rub his temples. the hoodie wasn’t doing much to hide him from people who were now giving him concerned looks as he stood there, muttering like a lunatic. eventually, he caved and called the only person who might understand his suffering: geto.

“yo,” geto answered, his voice muffled. “what’s up?”

“how the hell do people afford flowers?” sukuna barked into the phone.

“uh, normal people have jobs?” geto replied.

“i have a job,” sukuna snapped. “it’s called surviving high school and taking care of yuuji. do you know how much that little monster eats?”

“okay, calm down,” geto said, laughing. “why are you even buying flowers? is this for her?”

“obviously,” sukuna muttered, lowering his voice like the trees might overhear. “just go to the supermarket,” geto said. “grab some from there. they’re cheaper.”

“supermarket flowers?” sukuna sneered.

“they’re not bad,” geto said. “it’s the thought that counts, right? plus, you’re gonna make up for it with the rest of the promposal, right?”

“...yeah,” sukuna lied, glancing at his empty hands and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. “good luck,” geto said, clearly trying not to laugh.

“shut up,” sukuna muttered, hanging up and sighing. supermarket it was, then. hopefully, you wouldn’t mind flowers that came with a discount sticker.

on his way to the supermarket, sukuna didn’t plan to get distracted. but there it was—a tuxedo shop with mannequins that practically mocked him, standing tall in their fitted suits. he told himself he’d just peek. just a look. but somehow, sukuna was inside, staring at a rack of tuxedos, his hoodie feeling embarrassingly out of place in the crisp, polished environment. he ran a hand through his hair, eyes landing on a sleek black tuxedo with satin lapels. it was classic, clean, and exactly the kind of thing you’d probably love seeing him in. just try it on. what’s the worst that could happen?

five minutes later, sukuna was glaring at his reflection in the mirror, fumbling with a tie that refused to cooperate. “stupid, overcomplicated—” he grunted, yanking at it so hard he nearly choked himself.

“you’re gonna kill yourself before prom, kid.”

sukuna turned to see a short, older man with a grumpy face and an air of authority that reminded him of a drill sergeant. the man—wasuke, according to his name tag—walked over and snatched the tie out of sukuna’s hands.

“stand still,” wasuke barked.

“i’m not a kid,” sukuna muttered, but he stood still anyway, letting wasuke adjust the tie with the precision of a man who had probably done this a thousand times. “you’re fidgety. just like i was before my prom,” wasuke said, his gruff tone softening slightly. “you nervous about asking someone?”

“...something like that,” sukuna admitted. wasuke grunted, finishing the tie and stepping back. “i was nervous too. didn’t think she’d say yes. but she did.”

“yeah? how’d you ask her?” sukuna asked, genuinely curious despite himself.

“showed up at her house with a dozen carnations, a guitar, and no plan,” wasuke said, chuckling. “played the worst version of wonderwall you’ve ever heard. still don’t know why she said yes, but she did. forty years later, she’s still here.”

sukuna blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. for a moment, he imagined himself and you forty years from now. he hated how much he liked the thought. “cool story, old man,” sukuna said, brushing it off.

“you’ll figure it out,” wasuke said, patting him on the shoulder. “just don’t overthink it. and maybe don’t strangle yourself with the tie.”

with that, wasuke waddled off, leaving sukuna to face the mirror again. the tux fit perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering at the waist. the black-on-black look was sharp, especially with the skinny tie wasuke had wrestled into place. he looked...good.

too good, apparently, because he did the dumbest thing imaginable: he pulled out his phone and snapped a mirror selfie. “what am i even doing?” he muttered, staring at the photo. it was too late to stop himself, though—his thumb hit send before his brain could catch up.

the text went to you.

you.

“shit,” sukuna hissed, panic gripping him as he watched the message deliver. seconds later, your name flashed on his screen. video call. “hey!” your voice came through immediately, bright and excited. “are you trying on a tux? lemme see!” sukuna groaned, holding the phone at arm’s length so you could see the tux. “don’t freak out,” he muttered.

“oh my god, you look so good!” you squealed, and sukuna swore he felt his soul leave his body. “is this for prom? are you finally gonna ask me?”

his heart slammed against his ribs. “uh, no,” he said quickly. too quickly.

and then, like the coward he was, he hit end call.

he stared at his reflection, his ears burning. “god damn it,” he muttered, yanking the tie loose. wasuke’s voice echoed in his head: you’ll figure it out. “yeah, right,” sukuna muttered, shoving his phone back into his pocket and heading for the fitting room. he wasn’t sure what was worse—your reaction, or his. probably his. definitely his.

—

a hello kitty phone charm dangled from your phone, clinking softly every time you tossed it onto the bed after furiously texting sukuna. you giggled like a maniac, clutching your phone with both hands as his unread replies piled up.

you: omg you’re SO HANDSOME, why didn’t you tell me sooner???!!! you: can’t believe you look THAT good, excuse me while i pass away you: also if you’re dressing like that for prom, consider me yours all over again </33

your fingers flew across the keyboard, unable to stop yourself. there was just something about seeing him all polished up that had you swooning, even if he couldn’t see your reaction. sukuna being flustered? rare. sukuna being flustered and looking that fine? a national treasure.

your room was the perfect mix of chaos and comfort, a little shrine to your personality. fairy lights twinkled around the edges of your room, casting a soft glow over the colorful mess that was your bed—a heap of throw pillows and the softest blanket you refused to part with since middle school. your laptop sat open in front of you, the screen glowing with pinterest boards full of prom dress inspo: sleek satin silhouettes, dreamy tulle gowns, and even some edgy alternatives, because why not keep your options open? stickers covered your laptop’s lid—mostly cute animals, a few doodles of your favorite characters, and a sneaky, ironic skull-and-rose design that reminded you of sukuna.

your room smelled faintly of vanilla candles, the remnants of last night’s study session still lingering in the air. posters of your favorite bands and a few anime characters covered the walls, some slightly crooked but perfectly placed in your eyes. your vanity table overflowed with skincare, hair clips, and makeup products, while a laundry basket overflowed in the corner—a battle you’d deal with later.

you rolled onto your back, phone still clutched in your hand as you refreshed sukuna’s chat. no reply yet. that was fine. you grinned, imagining him struggling to come up with something cool to say.

you: don’t tell me you’re too busy being HOT to reply now 🙂‍↕️😹 you: also hi ily bye 🤭

closing your chat for a moment, you leaned back against your pillows and stared at your laptop screen. prom dress inspo was serious business, and as much as you wanted to keep teasing sukuna, you couldn’t ignore the excitement bubbling in your chest. prom was coming, and with a boyfriend like sukuna, it was going to be perfect—even if he was probably sweating bullets over the whole promposal thing. let him sweat a little longer, you thought with a giggle, clicking on yet another gown that made your heart skip a beat.

chapter four: gossip girls and a guy who can’t communicate

the bathroom was dimly lit, the flickering bulb above one of the stalls doing nothing to make you feel any better. you hadn’t even been planning on overhearing the conversation when you snuck into the last stall, phone in hand, planning to scroll mindlessly through pinterest to distract yourself during the break. but then their voices carried in, sharp and intentional, like knives aimed straight for your heart.

"i mean, can you believe she hasn’t been asked yet?" yorozu’s saccharine tone dripped with malice, her voice echoing off the tiled walls. "like, it’s kind of embarrassing at this point. you’d think someone as clingy as her would’ve forced sukuna to do it by now."

mei mei let out a low laugh, the kind that made your stomach twist. "maybe he’s just not into her like that. i mean, bad boys don’t exactly do promposals, do they? unless it’s for someone worth the effort."

"exactly," yorozu snickered. "like, if he really cared, she’d have already been bragging about it all over instagram. but nope. maybe he’s keeping his options open? can’t blame him." their laughter cut through the air, and you pressed your hand over your mouth, trying to steady your breathing. your chest felt tight, and for a moment, you thought you might actually cry. not here. not in front of them. not where they could hear.

from the sinks, shoko ieiri’s voice came sharp and cutting, a stark contrast to her usual laid-back drawl. "god, can you two shut up? it’s break, not your audition for mean girls 2."

"what’s your problem, ieiri?" yorozu snapped, but there was an edge to her voice—shoko wasn’t someone to mess with lightly.

"my problem is your ugly-ass voices ruining my smoke break," shoko replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke with practiced indifference. "if sukuna hasn’t asked her yet, it’s probably because he’s not a performative little attention whore like, oh, i don’t know, you two."

mei mei sniffed. "whatever. we’re just saying what everyone’s thinking."

"yeah, everyone," yorozu added, her voice dripping with mock concern. "but hey, maybe sukuna will surprise her. or not."

their laughter followed them out the door, and the sound of it made your stomach churn. the bathroom felt unbearably quiet once they were gone, the only noise the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. you stayed in the stall for a moment longer, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. their words circled in your head like vultures, each one pecking away at your confidence.

maybe he’s just not into you like that.

bad boys don’t exactly do promposals.

someone worth the effort.

your mind spun in spirals. was it true? sukuna had been acting distant lately—or was that just your imagination? he hadn’t replied to your texts about the tuxedo selfie, and now that you thought about it, what if it wasn’t meant for you? what if it was meant for someone else? maybe mei mei and yorozu were right. why would someone like sukuna—brooding, aloof, undeniably cool—want someone like you? you heard the stall door creak open, and shoko’s voice startled you out of your thoughts.

"hey. you okay in there?"

you hesitated before opening the door, forcing a tight smile. "yeah, i’m fine."

shoko frowned, her cigarette dangling loosely between her fingers. she looked at you for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before finally muttering, "those bitches don’t know what they’re talking about."

"it’s fine," you lied, brushing past her. your hands were trembling as you gripped the strap of your bag, and the lump in your throat made it hard to breathe. shoko didn’t stop you as you left, her awkward, apologetic smile lingering in your mind as you walked down the hall, head low, trying not to let the tears spill over.

is he really stringing you along?

does he even care?

two days until prom, and he hasn’t said a word.

the voices in your head were relentless, their whispers feeding your growing self-doubt. and for the first time in your relationship, you wondered if you’d been wrong about sukuna all along.

the day had dragged on forever, the weight of yorozu and mei mei's words pressing heavily on your shoulders. by the time school ended, you were so emotionally drained you couldn’t even think straight. but when sukuna pulled up on his bike, leaning casually against it with that stupidly handsome smirk of his, you plastered on your best smile, determined not to let him see how much you were spiraling. "hey, handsome," you chirped, sliding onto the back of his bike, your voice just a little too bright. "miss me?"

he glanced back at you as he handed you the helmet, brow furrowed slightly. "you good? you sound... weird."

"weird? no way!" you forced a laugh, strapping the helmet on. "just, you know, long day. classes were boring. people were annoying. the usual."

sukuna didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged it off, revving the engine as you wrapped your arms around his waist. the ride home was silent, save for the growl of the bike and the occasional honk of a car passing by. usually, you’d chatter about everything and nothing, filling the air with your stories, your laughter, your plans. today, though, the words felt stuck in your throat, your mind too tangled in thoughts of prom and sukuna and you. when he stopped in front of your place, you hopped off and handed him the helmet, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, "can i ask you something?" his eyes narrowed slightly, his usual nonchalance giving way to something more guarded. "what’s up?"

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "why haven’t you… you know… said anything about prom?" sukuna blinked, caught completely off guard. "huh? what d’ya mean?"

"i mean…" you trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for even bringing it up. "it’s just… prom is in two days, and everyone else is, like, getting these cute proposals and stuff, and i thought maybe… maybe you’d—"

"oh, come on," he cut you off, his tone more defensive than he intended. "you know i’m not into all that cheesy shit. i’m not gojo or toji, running around making a scene." your heart sank at his words, and you tried to keep your voice steady. "it’s not about making a scene, sukuna. it’s about—"

"about what?" he snapped, rubbing the back of his neck. "you already know we’re going together, right? so what’s the big deal?" you stared at him, your chest tightening. "the big deal is… i just wanted to feel special, okay? like you care. but if that’s too much to ask, then—"

"you think i don’t care?" he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "you think i’m just stringin’ you along or some shit? what kinda dumbass idea is that?" the tears you’d been holding back all day threatened to spill over, and you quickly looked away. "forget it. i shouldn’t have said anything."

"no, seriously, where’s this coming from?" he pressed, his frustration clear. "you’ve been acting off all day, and now you’re throwing this at me?"

"you’re impossible," you muttered, turning on your heel and walking towards your door.

"wait, hold up—" he started, but you didn’t stop, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond. sukuna sat there on his bike, watching you walk away, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t know how to describe. he wanted to call after you, to explain that he was trying, that he wanted to give you something special, but the words just wouldn’t come out. instead, he clenched his fists, cursing himself under his breath.

as you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, tears streaming down your face. your thoughts were a chaotic mess. does he even care? am i being unreasonable? is this all in my head?

meanwhile, sukuna sat outside for a few moments longer, staring at your house with a sinking feeling in his stomach. he’d messed up, and he knew it. but how the hell was he supposed to fix it?

—

sukuna was lying on his bed, arms splayed out like he’d just been KO’d by life itself. staring at the ceiling, he let out a groan so deep it rattled his soul. it’s so over, he thought. this is it. the end. the fat lady’s singing. the curtain’s dropping. i’ve fumbled my way into boyfriend hell. his phone was propped up on his chest, the screen dimmed but still visible, waiting for the one thing that could bring him solace: a notification from you. no cute animal reel, no cheesy meme, no “omg this reminded me of you <3 :3” tag. nothing. nada. silence. sukuna stared at the unlit screen like it was actively mocking him.

so this is how it feels to die inside, he mused, scrolling aimlessly through tiktok, where every other post was either a cringy promposal or a “men ain’t shit” rant. great. he tossed his phone aside, facepalming hard enough to leave a red mark.

"bro, can you NOT," yuuji’s voice boomed through the thin wall, followed by the sound of something heavy slamming against it. "some of us are trying to get good sleep over here!" sukuna didn’t even flinch. "and some of us are trying to figure out why we’re the literal worst boyfriend on the planet, yuuji," he shouted back, voice muffled by his pillow.

there was a pause, and then yuuji called back, "sounds like a skill issue!"

yeah, thanks for the moral support, kid, sukuna thought bitterly, rolling onto his side and glaring at his phone like it held all the answers to his problems. should he text you? call you? grovel at your feet and beg for forgiveness? nah, too much. probably. "but what if it’s not too much," he muttered to himself, his overthinking spiraling like a tiktok rabbit hole. he grabbed his phone and opened your chat, fingers hovering over the keyboard. he started typing:

sukuna: "hey."

no, too casual. she’s probably still mad. delete.

sukuna: "sorry for being a dick earlier."

ugh, too vague. she deserves better than this half-assed apology. delete.

sukuna: "pls don’t leave me i’m stupid and i love you."

god, get a grip. delete.

he groaned again, tossing his phone across the bed and burying his face in his hands. he was spiraling, and not in the cute “omg i like her so much” way, but in the “my life is a flaming dumpster fire�� way. the worst part? he couldn’t even properly apologize yet because the grand promposal he’d been planning wasn’t ready. and if he apologized now, you’d probably forgive him, but it’d ruin the big moment he was hoping to surprise you with. but what if waiting too long means she never forgives me at all?

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling again. “why is being in love so goddamn hard? people on tiktok make it look so easy. just dance, propose, and boom, happy ending. where’s my happy ending?”

from the other room, yuuji shouted, "SHUT UP, ROMEO!"

"eat shit, yuuji!" sukuna barked back, even though the kid was right.

god, he needed to get his act together before you realized you could do way better than him. but for now, he just laid there, shriveling up and dying like the dramatic dumbass he was, waiting for a miracle.

—

your room was a disaster zone: laptop open on your bed, your playlist stuck on “prom dress” by mxmtoon like it was 2019, your phone precariously balanced on a pile of mismatched socks, and tissues littered around like you were auditioning for a sad indie movie. the death metal hello kitty pajamas—thrifted with sukuna—clung to you like a bittersweet hug, the fabric somehow feeling heavier tonight. you weren’t about to cry over a boy. but also… you might cry over a boy. the duality of woman. and because emotional self-destruction is best paired with a sprinkle of pettiness, you grabbed your phone, snapped a cute selfie in said pajamas, and slapped a caption on it: “cozy nights >>>> everything else 💕”

posting it was an impulsive decision, but it was also calculated. you knew the power of a cute, casual post. it wasn’t technically aimed at sukuna, but you also weren’t about to sit here and pretend you didn’t want him to see it, to notice you, to maybe—just maybe—grovel a little in your DMs. the likes and comments started flooding in immediately because your socials were basically the hub for school tea and wholesome vibes.

mamaguro: our little fashionista!!! thrift QUEEN 😍

god bless that woman. she deserved the world.

shoko: (attached gif of a woman dramatically fainting on a chaise lounge)

classic shoko.

maki: ugh, if i thrifted this, mai would burn it out of spite. cute though. thumbs up. mai: shut up maki. also, not bad. 8/10. maki: don’t rate her outfit like it’s your stupid games, nerd. mai: cry about it.

sibling banter in your comments? worth it.

and then, of course, there was:

naoya zenin: so glad someone else noticed how good you look in pj’s 😏

you rolled your eyes so hard you saw another dimension. of course he had to slither in. you didn’t even bother giving it a pity like.

you refreshed the page once, twice, twenty times. still no sign of sukuna. no like, no comment, no DM. you threw yourself back onto the bed, groaning into your pillow like a banshee. was it really that hard to double-tap? and then, the spiraling started.

what if he didn’t like it?

what if he thought it was cringe?

what if he saw it and scrolled past, thinking about how much of a baby you are for posting this in the first place?

or worse — what if he thought it was for someone else? like naoya?

ew.

you shook your head violently, trying to physically rattle the thoughts out. sukuna wasn’t that stupid. right? he had to know this was for him. but as the minutes ticked by, and the comments from your friends kept rolling in, the notification you wanted most stayed stubbornly absent.

boys are so stupid, you thought bitterly, scribbling “stupid sukuna and his stupid abs and his stupid everything” in your spiral-bound diary. it stayed locked away in your closet, expertly hidden in the event of an accidental snoop, because some things were too raw to share with the world. you hit play on “prom dress” for the 17th time that evening, feeling the lyrics a little too personally as you kept refreshing the post like a woman possessed. love, as it turns out, was truly exhausting.

—

sukuna had just slumped back in his chair, doom-scrolling tiktok and internally mourning the lack of a “girlfriend tagged you in a tiktok” notification, when your instagram post pinged onto his phone. for a solid five seconds, he froze. like a caveman discovering fire.

you looked ethereal. the death metal hello kitty pajamas, the soft glow of the fairy lights, the cozy chaos of your room in the background—sukuna didn’t even know how to process it. you looked like, uh, a… renaissance painting? yeah. except, sukuna was 98% sure he couldn’t spell renaissance if his life depended on it.

r-e-n-a…sauce? god, no.

whatever.

like an idiot, his thumb hovered over the comment section for too long, his brain scrambling for something cool but romantic but not cringe but also boyfriend-worthy. and then, because he was absolutely useless under pressure, he panicked and commented:

sukuna: 🔥🔥🔥

the second he hit send, he let out the longest groan known to mankind, slapping his hand over his face. what the hell, sukuna? he might as well have sent a dm saying, “wyd ;)” for how basic that was. wasn’t he your boyfriend? he was supposed to be above fire emojis!

meanwhile, across town, your phone buzzed, and when you saw the notification, your entire soul ascended for half a second before crashing back down. fire emojis? that’s what he gave you?

your reaction was visceral.

a gasp so loud it nearly knocked the fairy lights off your wall. your heart rate skyrocketed. every fiber of your being screamed, is this what my life has come to? my boyfriend thinks i’m fire-emoji-hot, not love-letter-hot? "oh my god, no," you muttered, pacing your room. this is it. the tiktoks didn’t work. i failed as a girlfriend. what’s next? marrying someone who comments ‘send bobs and vagene’ on my posts?

but before you could plan the ultimate self-roast in your diary, another notification came through. sukuna, clearly in full damage control mode, had added a second comment:

sukuna: my girl. 💪

you stopped mid-spiral, blinking at the screen. the simplicity of it. the possessive undertone. my girl. two words, and somehow your heart went from shriveled raisin to blooming flower.

back at sukuna’s place, he was staring at the new comment with narrowed eyes, second-guessing himself yet again. was that too much? was it cringey? what if she thinks it’s corny? what if she screenshots it and sends it to shoko, and they both roast me? what if—

and then, your like on his comment came through, followed by you pinning it under the post. sukuna let out a dramatic exhale, flopping back onto his bed. ah, love. exhausting, anxiety-inducing, and, somehow, totally worth it.

chapter five: when subtlety isn’t an option

dragging yourself onto campus that morning felt like a herculean effort. you were running on fumes and whatever scraps of serotonin sukuna’s ridiculously over-the-top goodnight message had left you. sure, it was sweet—ten whole lines about how he’d “reshape reality” for you or some nonsense—but was it an apology? was it a promposal? absolutely not. boys were a disease.

as soon as you stepped through the gates, gojo’s obnoxiously loud voice rang out, cutting through your existential crisis like a foghorn. “diva down!” he declared dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d personally betrayed him by showing up in less-than-perfect condition. before you could even muster a glare, geto’s hand shot out, smacking gojo square in the stomach. “read the room, satoru,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “ow!” gojo wheezed, doubling over. “i was just stating facts!”

you ignored their antics, trudging toward your locker, when the crackling intercom interrupted the usual morning chaos. nanami’s voice, as calm yet strained as ever, floated over the campus. “attention, students. all of you are required to assemble on the football field immediately. this is not a drill.” a murmur rippled through the halls. was it a fire drill? a surprise pep rally? something worse? you glanced around, half-hoping to see sukuna leaning against a wall with his usual “i don’t care about anything” face, but he was nowhere to be found.

“weird,” you muttered, joining the slow shuffle of students heading outside. on the field, clusters of confused teenagers were gathering under the bright morning sun. you scanned the crowd, squinting against the light. no sign of sukuna. where was that idiot? meanwhile, gojo and geto had caught up to you. “what do you think this is?” gojo asked, clearly already bored.

“hopefully not another motivational speaker,” geto muttered. “or a fire drill,” you added, your voice flat.

“whatever it is, it better be quick,” gojo whined. “my skincare routine does not involve standing in direct sunlight for this long.”

you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to the crowd. something about this felt off. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening, it had something to do with sukuna.

the murmurs in the crowd were growing louder, restless. one of the jocks inhaled, clearly gearing up to yell something stupid—probably “this is so lame” or some other brilliant insight—when the jumbotron sparked to life with a loud buzz. everyone froze, heads snapping toward the giant screen.

there he was.

sukuna.

in a tuxedo.

he looked… disheveled, to say the least. his tie was slightly crooked, and his bloodshot eyes gave him the appearance of someone who hadn’t slept in years. or maybe ever. but the way he leaned back in a chair, dressed like a mob boss with the confidence to match, had the crowd whispering excitedly.

“oh my god, is this for real?”

“is he—he’s wearing a tux! is this, like, a movie?”

“is he single?” one girl whispered, earning a sharp glare from her friend.

you? you were just standing there, slack-jawed, because what was he doing?

on screen, sukuna let out a deep sigh, his voice lower and rougher than usual, probably from the late hour. “hey,” he started, glancing off-camera like he wasn’t sure how to say this. “so, uh. this is for… my girl.”

your heart stuttered.

“listen,” he continued, running a hand through his hair, “i know i’m the world’s worst boyfriend. like, bottom of the barrel. absolute trash. no one’s worse than me.”

“i mean, he’s not wrong,” gojo stage-whispered from behind you. geto smacked him again.

sukuna’s voice dropped even lower, making half the girls in the crowd swoon. “but i’m trying. and if i have to humiliate myself in front of the entire school to make it up to you, then so be it.”

your breath caught as the screen cut to black with a simple message: turn around.

you whipped around just in time to see sukuna—your sukuna—riding his motorbike onto the football field like he was in a damn action movie. the crowd gasped, screamed, and scattered as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the field, yuuji riding behind him, holding on for dear life. “this is better than coloring claaaasssss!” yuuji yelled, his little voice carrying across the field. in his tiny hands was a bouquet of… lego flowers? some of the pieces were dangerously close to falling off. behind them, sprinting full speed like his life depended on it, was choso, carrying an actual vintage boombox over his head. half the girls in the crowd were now screaming, but not for sukuna.

“who’s that?”

“he’s so hoott! does he go here?”

“you’re all so basic,” geto muttered under his breath.

as sukuna parked his bike, yuuji jumped off and ran toward you, yelling, “you hafta say yes! otherwise big bro will cause mass destrunkshun!”

sukuna groaned, glaring at his little brother. “yuuji, shut up!” but yuuji ignored him, shoving the lego flowers into your hands. “here! they never die, just like big bro’s love for you!”

the crowd erupted in a mix of laughter and cheers as sukuna finally got off his bike and walked toward you, his face red but determined. “listen,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “i know i’m an idiot, and i suck at this whole ‘romantic boyfriend’ thing. but i love you, and i want to take you to prom. so… will you be my date?”

you blinked, tears welling up as the boombox suddenly blared heart of glass by blondie. choso gave you a thumbs-up, still holding the boombox over his head like a champ. “say yes! say yes!” yuuji chanted, jumping up and down.

“oh my god, yes!” you finally shouted, throwing your arms around sukuna’s neck. the crowd roared, clapping and cheering as sukuna hugged you back, a relieved smile breaking across his face.

“finally,” gojo muttered. “that was so painful to watch.” but you didn’t care about the crowd, or the noise, or even yuuji yelling, “yay! no destrunkshun today!”

all you cared about was the way sukuna looked at you, like you were the only person in the world.

—

sukuna flopped dramatically onto your bed later that evening, still in his slightly wrinkled tuxedo from the ridiculous escapade earlier, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thump. “do you even understand what i went through to pull that off?” he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “i might as well retire. i’m too old for this.” you snorted, sitting cross-legged on the floor, your gaze flicking to the lego flower bouquet proudly perched on your desk. “you’re eighteen, sukuna. relax.”

“eighteen with back pain,” he muttered, shifting to look at you. “and a vendetta against a certain flower set. do you know how many pieces are in that thing?”

“clearly, enough to drive you insane,” you teased, reaching over to nudge his shin. “so… tell me how it all went down. i need to know what mastermind put this together.”

he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow with an exaggerated sigh. “fine. but just know that i better get some kind of boyfriend-of-the-year award for this.”

“you’ll get a sticker. now spill.”

“okay, first of all,” he started, counting off on his fingers, “i had to beg nanami to bend the rules. i was like, ‘listen, dude, just one announcement. i swear i won’t get detention for the rest of the year.’”

“and he believed that?” you raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“well…” sukuna grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “i might’ve also thrown in a promise to help him clean the chem lab after school for a month. he was this close to saying no, though.” you laughed, imagining nanami’s face at sukuna’s desperate pleas. “sounds about right. and choso?”

“ah, choso,” sukuna said dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like he was reciting a shakespearean monologue. “the real goat. he flew in from across the state—i’m talking dead of the night—to bring me that stupid lego flower set.”

“you made him travel for legos?” you gasped, barely holding back laughter.

“hey, it was symbolic!” he defended, pointing a finger at you. “and he didn’t just deliver it; he stayed up with me all night building it. i thought we were gonna lose a piece at one point, and let me tell you, i almost cried.” you couldn’t stop giggling at the image of sukuna and choso frantically building lego flowers in the middle of the night. “okay, okay. what about yuu?”

“oh, he was the easiest to convince,” sukuna said, smirking. “i just told him, ‘power rangers need good deeds on their resume, like helping their big bro.’ he was all in after that.”

“of course he was,” you muttered fondly, shaking your head.

“so, there you have it,” sukuna finished, stretching out on your bed with a satisfied sigh. “a night of blood, sweat, and legos. all for you, baby.” you smiled, leaning back against the edge of your bed. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“yeah, but you love me,” he shot back, his tone smug.

“unfortunately,” you teased, though your cheeks warmed at his words. there was a brief silence before you hesitated, biting your lip. “sukuna?”

“hm?” he hummed, eyes half-closed.

“mei mei and yorozu said some stuff yesterday. about you and… us.”

his eyes snapped open, narrowing. “what kinda stuff?”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but he wasn’t having it. “they said you were stringing me along. that you’d never—”

“oh, hell no,” he growled, sitting up so fast he almost hit his head on your fairy lights. “i’m gonna—”

“no, you’re not,” you interrupted, grabbing his arm before he could launch himself off the bed. “we don’t beat people up, remember?” he grumbled under his breath, clearly displeased. “fine. but if they say one more thing—”

“they won’t,” you said firmly, giving him a look. “because we’re gonna ignore them and enjoy our nap instead.” sukuna sighed, flopping back onto the bed with a resigned groan. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, tugging you down beside him.

“and you’re lucky i put up with you,” you shot back, settling into the warm space next to him.

the two of you lay there under the glow of your fairy lights, the faint scent of your vanilla candle filling the room. the lego flower bouquet sat proudly on your desk, a quiet reminder of sukuna’s chaotic but heartfelt effort. as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but smile. love with sukuna was messy, dramatic, and over the top—but it was yours.

you tried. you really tried to fall asleep. but how could you, when sukuna had casually dropped an “i love you” like it was just any other sentence? sure, he said it before when he asked you to prom, but that was in the middle of a chaotic proposal involving legos and yuuji screaming about power rangers. this? this was casual. this was deliberate. this was real.

your brain spiraled faster than your pinterest boards during finals week. did he mean it? like, really mean it? was it a slip-up? does he just throw around the word “love” like that? you stiffened in his arms, your body going ramrod straight like a ruler, and sukuna, ever the perceptive one (at least when it comes to you), noticed immediately. “you good?” he mumbled, voice groggy as he cracked one eye open.

you didn’t respond right away, too busy drowning in your thoughts. was this what all those romance novels meant by ‘confessions catching you off guard’? but this wasn’t a confession, was it? or was it?

“hey,” sukuna nudged you lightly, his brows furrowing. “you’re acting weird. what’s up?”

you sat up suddenly, twisting to face him, your fairy lights casting a soft glow on his confused expression. “you… you said you loved me.”

his eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in… well, ever, sukuna looked genuinely nervous. “uh… yeah? i mean, yeah. i did. i do. why?”

“you do?” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. you couldn’t help it; the man was notoriously bad at expressing his feelings, and now he was just casually confirming his love for you like it was no big deal? “uh, yeah?” sukuna scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the corner of your ceiling. “i mean… why else would i do all this crap? the flowers, the tux, the boombox…”

“so you’re saying you really love me? like, love-love me?” you clarified, your hands now gesturing wildly because, of course, this needed to be crystal clear. at this point, sukuna’s face was turning an alarming shade of pink—like, my melody type pink, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “yes, okay? i love you. love-love you. happy?”

you blinked at him, your heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did when he looked at you like that, all flustered and frustrated but undeniably sincere.

“wait, why are you smiling?” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “this is so embarrassing. i knew i should’ve just—”

you didn’t let him finish, leaning forward to kiss him, your lips cutting off whatever self-deprecating nonsense he was about to spew. when you pulled back, his ears were now as red as his eyes, and he stared at you like you’d just stolen his soul. “i’m smiling,” you said softly, “because i love you too, dumbass. and because i think it’s cute when you get all flustered.”

“cute?” he repeated, deadpan. “did you just call me cute?”

“yep,” you chirped, lying back down and snuggling into his chest. “get used to it, my melody.”

sukuna groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes, but you could feel the way his heartbeat quickened under your cheek. and as he tightened his hold around you, mumbling something about how you better not tell anyone about this, you smiled to yourself. maybe you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, but at least now, you’d be lying awake with a warm, fuzzy feeling instead of overthinking yourself into oblivion. love-love really was something else.

chapter six: the painting, the prom, and the prince

the evening of prom was finally here, and sukuna rolled up to your house looking, dare he say it, hot. okay, maybe he wouldn’t say it out loud, but judging by the double-take you gave him when he stepped off his bike in that sharp tux, it was safe to assume you thought so too.

and then you walked out.

he swore his brain short-circuited. he’d seen you in a hundred different outfits, every single one somehow better than the last, but this? this wasn’t just a dress. this was art.

“you…you look…” he stammered, his usual cocky bravado completely out the window. “uh…you look like…you know…like…a renaissance painting or something.”

you blinked at him, clearly amused. “a renaissance painting?”

“yeah,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly regretting his life choices. “you know, like, those really fancy ones. with, uh, good lighting.” you bit back a laugh. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

“you should,” he grumbled, averting his eyes because looking at you too long felt like staring into the sun. “you look perfect.”

as the two of you got on his bike and headed to prom, sukuna felt like he was riding on air. that was, until you turned to him halfway there and asked, “so, do you have the tickets?”

oh, shit.

his mind raced as he remembered exactly where those tickets were: stuffed into his t-shirt so you wouldn’t find them during his promposal planning. and then, last night, in a frenzy of cleaning and trying to look cool, he’d tossed the shirt into the laundry. “uhhh…” he stalled, trying to come up with a lie, but your raised eyebrow told him you weren’t buying it.

“‘kuna,” you said, already exasperated. “please don’t tell me—”

“okay, okay, maybe i left them in the washing machine,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. you groaned, but to his surprise, you didn’t seem mad. instead, you reached into your purse and pulled out two tickets. “lucky for you, i bought these ages ago,” you said, smirking.

“wait, what?” he blinked, genuinely stunned.

“what? i wasn’t about to risk you being unprepared,” you teased.

“okay, wow, first of all, rude,” he said, though he couldn’t help but grin. “second of all, you’re amazing. third of all…can we pretend this didn’t happen?”

“not a chance,” you replied, laughing.

fast forward to the gym, where the school had, of course, gone full cliché with the decorations: fairy lights, balloons, and a weirdly overused “enchanted evening” banner that looked like it had been recycled from at least three other events. but none of that mattered when you spotted yuuji and choso standing near the punch table. well, you saw them. sukuna, on the other hand, saw chaos.

“why the hell is yuuji here?” sukuna hissed, his hands already on his temples. “don’t ask me,” you said, equally baffled. “how does a seven-year-old even get in here?”

“puppy eyes,” sukuna muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

sure enough, yuuji was grinning ear-to-ear, his hair plastered to his head in spikes from what must have been an entire bottle of power ranger-branded gel. “big bro! you made it!” yuuji shouted, running up and practically tackling sukuna in a hug. “yuuji,” sukuna groaned, prying the kid off him. “what are you doing here?”

“helping!” yuuji declared proudly. “plus, i used your tickets!”

sukuna’s jaw dropped. “what?”

“he’s surprisingly resourceful for a kid,” choso muttered, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here as he adjusted his tie. “next time, don’t leave important things lying around.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” sukuna grumbled, running a hand down his face.

meanwhile, you were barely holding back laughter, especially when you noticed the cluster of girls gawking at choso from across the room. “looks like choso’s got some fans,” you whispered, nudging sukuna.

“yeah, well, they can have him,” sukuna muttered. “i’ve got everything i need right here.”

and just like that, the stress melted away, replaced by that smug, confident grin you loved so much. prom was a mess, but it was your mess. and honestly? you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

—

the night was winding down, and with prom nearing its end, you and sukuna made your way toward the photobooth. sukuna had his arm slung over your shoulder, and you leaned into him, already envisioning how cute your pictures would turn out. but, of course, peace was short-lived.

“oh, look who it is,” came mei mei’s unmistakably smug voice.

you stiffened, turning toward her and yorozu, who stood there with their arms crossed, both looking like they had nothing better to do than spread bitchiness. “figures you’d show up,” yorozu sneered. “thought you’d be too busy fixing your ‘perfect relationship.’”

“is this where you get your weekly drama fix?” sukuna drawled, his voice low and sharp. he glanced between the two with a look that could’ve cut glass. “or did you just run out of things to do since no one wanted to take you?” mei mei opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, sukuna bent down and scooped you up bridal style.

“sukuna!” you yelped, clinging to him in shock.

“don’t waste your energy on people like them,” he said simply, striding past the two women without so much as a second glance.

“you can’t just—hey!” mei mei called after him, but sukuna didn’t bother stopping. yorozu muttered something under her breath, but even she knew better than to push it.

“you really didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your voice. “didn’t have to?” he scoffed. “like hell i’d let them talk to you like that.”

the line for the photobooth wasn’t long, and before you knew it, you were stepping inside with sukuna still holding you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re not putting me down?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “nah,” he said with a smirk. “you look too good tonight. gotta keep showing you off.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed all the same.

once inside the booth, sukuna finally set you down, pulling you close for the first set of pictures. the two of you posed like a typical couple at first, all smiles and laughs. then sukuna decided to make things interesting by pulling faces, sticking his tongue out in one, and pretending to bite your shoulder in another.

“these are gonna look so stupid,” you laughed, pushing at his chest. “nah, they’re gonna be fire,” he said, grinning.

just as the final photo flashed, the curtain whipped open, and toji’s booming voice rang out.

“move over, lovebirds! we’re crashing this party.”

toji and mamaguro squeezed into the booth, nearly squashing you and sukuna against the wall.

“what the hell, toji?” sukuna groaned, glaring at the intrusion.

“what?” toji said innocently. “you think i’m missing out on free photobooth pics?”

“scoot over, lovelies,” mamaguro chimed in, pushing toji aside so she could squeeze into the frame.

“there’s no room!” you said, laughing as you were squished further into sukuna.

“there’s always room for one more,” came another voice, and before you could even register what was happening, gojo leapt into the booth, landing half on toji and half on sukuna.

“what the—get off me!” sukuna growled, shoving at gojo.

“smile, everyone!” geto called, popping his head into the frame at the last second.

the camera flashed, capturing the chaos in all its glory. by the time the prints came out, you were crying from laughter, holding onto sukuna to keep from doubling over.

“what a night,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes. “yeah,” sukuna said, his voice warm as he looked at you. “what a night.”

—

the picture on sukuna’s instagram was a beyonce level of iconic. the both of you stood side by side, wearing your prom king and queen sashes, though sukuna refused to actually wear his properly—it hung off his shoulder like he was in a fight club. you, however, looked perfect as always, your sash gleaming and your tiara slightly askew from all the dancing. sukuna was leaning just enough to rest his chin on your head (a “power move,” as he called it), and you were holding the bouquet of lego flowers proudly. the caption? equally sukuna.

prom king and queen, obv. any losers who’ve got something to say can take it up with me. she’s the queen, i’m the muscle. try us, idk 🤷‍♂️ also yeah, she's mine. no refunds.

within seconds of posting, the comments started flooding in.

gojo: the muscle? more like the court jester 💀

yorozu: lmao no one even voted for you two 💀💀💀

choso: solid pic 🔥 i’ll be charging for the lego flowers btw

mamaguro: MY BABIES LOOK AMAZING!!! 👑😭💕

toji: me and my girl did it better 😹

“yorozu really can’t keep my name out her mouth,” sukuna muttered, already cracking his knuckles. “ignore her, my king,” you teased, throwing a pillow at him from your desk chair.

your room was a warzone after the night’s chaos. your shoes were discarded near the bed like a crime scene, your fairy lights had a sad strand that had gone out mid-celebration, and your makeup wipes, bobby pins, and jewelry were strewn all over your vanity. you’d kicked off your sash somewhere in the mess, and your dress was neatly hanging off the edge of your chair because despite the chaos, you couldn’t risk ruining it. meanwhile, sukuna was lying sideways on your bed, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place, his tux jacket slung over the back of the chair you were sitting in.

“should we clean up?” you asked half-heartedly, already knowing the answer.

“nah,” he said, throwing his phone onto the bed. “it’s post-prom. chaos is mandatory.”

before you could argue, sukuna’s phone buzzed. he picked it up, squinting at the email notification, and then froze.

“what’s up?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he stared at the screen for a second before a grin slowly spread across his face. “i got in.”

“what?”

“sports scholarship,” he said, holding the phone up like it was a trophy. “same college as you.”

your jaw dropped, and then you were practically tackling him onto the bed, laughing and hugging him at the same time.

“we’re going to college together?” you asked, beaming.

“hell yeah, we are,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “best decision ever.”

and as the night wore on, with your messy room, tired limbs, and full hearts, you realized he was absolutely right.

epilogue

the morning sun cast a golden hue on your driveway, and there was a quiet buzz of excitement mixed with nervous energy as the taxi rolled up. your suitcases, meticulously packed with everything you thought you might need for college, sat neatly by the curb. sukuna, leaning against the taxi door, looked as relaxed as ever, though his towering frame and sharp features gave him an intimidating edge. “you ready?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. he was holding your suitcase because, apparently, carrying your own bags was “not allowed” anymore.

“as ready as i’ll ever be,” you said, patting the strap of your carry-on bag nervously. the realization that you were actually leaving home was starting to hit.

“you’ve been glowing lately, by the way,” sukuna said casually, as if he hadn’t just paid you the highest compliment. “probably ‘cause you’re spending all your time with me.”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto your face. “it’s called a skincare routine, sukuna. maybe you should try one.”

before he could retort, a loud, familiar voice shattered the morning calm.

“WAIT! WAIT!”

both of you turned to see yuuji sprinting toward you, waving something in his hand like a man possessed. “YOU FORGOT THESE!”

you squinted, trying to make out what he was holding. as he got closer, it hit you: your prom queen sash and tiara. “oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “i knew i was forgetting something.”

yuuji skidded to a stop in front of you, panting heavily. “you’re welcome,” he wheezed, thrusting the items into your hands. “how could you forget these? you’re a queen!”

“thanks, yuuji,” you said, taking the sash and tiara from him and trying not to laugh at his dramatic delivery.

“don’t forget to wear it on your first day of college!” he added, grinning ear to ear. “yeah, sure,” you said, ruffling his hair. “and maybe i’ll wear a ball gown to class, too.”

“you’d still look better than half the people there,” sukuna chimed in, snatching the sash from your hand and draping it over your shoulder like he was crowning you all over again. “okay, that’s enough theatrics for now,” you said, adjusting the sash so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “we’ve got a flight to catch.”

yuuji’s face fell slightly, and he threw his arms around you in a sudden, tight hug. “i’m gonna miss you,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“i’ll miss you too, yuuji,” you said, squeezing him back. “but we’ll visit, okay? and you better facetime me every week.” he nodded, pulling back and giving sukuna a pointed look. “you better take care of her, big bro.”

“always,” sukuna said without hesitation, ruffling yuuji’s hair in return. “and don’t eat all the snacks mom buys, okay?”

“no promises,” yuuji replied, grinning.

as you settled into the taxi and it pulled away from the driveway, you glanced back to see yuuji waving wildly until he was out of sight. you leaned back in your seat, holding the sash and tiara in your lap. “i can’t believe i almost forgot these,” you said, shaking your head.

“you packed a literal hello kitty lamp,” sukuna said, one eyebrow raised. “but not your prom queen stuff. priorities.” you laughed, swatting his arm. “the lamp’s for your dorm, thank you very much. i’m not letting you live in a depressing man cave.”

he smirked, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “yeah, yeah. but hey, this is it, huh? college.”

you nodded, the weight of the moment finally settling in. “yeah. it’s the start of everything.”

“good thing we’re doing it together,” sukuna said, reaching over to take your hand.

and as the taxi sped toward the airport, you realized he was right. this was just the beginning—not just of college, but of a whole new chapter of your lives. and with sukuna by your side, you had a feeling it was going to be a damn good one.

thank you for sticking till the end <3 this was a drabble i decided to format into a full length fic because i recently came across my old prom photos and the nostalgia was very real. while i can safely say i did NOT have the ideal high school experience, i am deffo making my reader[s] have it 🙂‍↕️ if you'd like to find out what type of reader are you (based off of my fics), click on the quiz link here <3 thank u for reading !!

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bangtan-junkie · 7 months ago

Text

Dissonance (Part 1) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 5744 words

Synopsis:

Your coworker, Jungkook, got on your nerves. While everyone saw him as sweet and charming, you saw his true (annoying) colours that lay beneath. It was no secret that you hated him. No one knew that more than him. But a night out, drinks in your system, and a girl flirting with Jungkook in front of you might bring up some uglier feelings and be Jungkook's last straw.

Note:

lol sorry I'm not great with synopses. but yeah this is rly just angst and filth enjoyyy. part 2 soon hopefully. also would love requests or feedback so lmk

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as Jungkook spoke. Jungkook was a newer employee and the whole office knew you didn't like him one bit. He was a kiss-ass and there was nothing you hated more than a kiss-ass. Not only was he a kiss-ass, he was also annoyingly good looking which only made people like him more. While you were busy busting your ass for work and cleaning up after other peoples' mess, he was able to get anyone to do whatever he wanted with a flash of his smile. To top it all off, nearly every woman in your office threw themselves at him - even the senior ladies. You couldn't stand it. Watching them twirling their hair, putting a hand on his chest as they laughed at his every word, it made you sick. What was worse was watching him flirt back - seeing him check them out, grab them by the waist, or whisper in their ears. Everything about him made your blood boil and you refused to give him an easy time like everyone else.

Jungkook was fully aware of your disdain for him. He didn’t miss how your eyes rolled when he walked into the room, or how you avoided him like he was the plague. He paid no attention to it at first, trying his best to charm you as he did with your peers. But every smile, joke, or conversation was shut down. He thought it wouldn’t bother him, but with each passing day, every scowl, every eye roll, and every glare, he felt his irritation growing. But he refused to give you the satisfaction of knowing that he cared about your opinion. Instead, he tried his best to show you that you had no affect on him at all. With every insult you threw at him, he turned it around and threw a cheeky, flirty comment back at you. He only did it because he knew it would piss you off even more. As amusing as it was, his frustration was building up as you pushed his buttons.

Unfortunately for the both of you, you shared a social circle at work because you were in the same department. As if you didn't get enough of each other at work, you were occasionally forced into seeing each other outside of work when your coworkers decided to go out. Tonight was one of those cursed nights as your group agreed to go out for drinks after work. So you sat at the end of the booth, downing your drinks faster than you probably should, watching one of the girls attempt to seduce Jungkook in the booth. You tried to focus on the conversation happening on the other side of you but found your mind wandering back to the two of them. She was practically in his lap by this point and had unbuttoned a few buttons of her top. Jungkook's arm was snaked around her waist while his other hand lingered along the hem of her skirt. You downed your next drink, trying to drown the burning sensation you felt in your chest. It was certainly drowning your common sense in the process, your head already beginning to feel fuzzy. The girl was asking stupid questions and resorting to plain flattery in an attempt to flirt. Your already bad mood from work combined with the drinks you were powering through was quickly worsening your mood and making you more bold.

"You're so sweet," she giggled, "No wonder everyone likes you over in your department."

"Not everyone," you mumbled under your breath with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook rolled his own eyes and ignored you but the girl looked over at you confused.

"Sorry?" She asked.

"Don't be. I was just agreeing with you. Jungkook is soooooooo sweet," you mocked, looking directly at him. She gave you a strange look and turned back to him.

"Looks like you're famous with all the ladies," she smiled, playing with his tie.

"Oh you have no idea," you laughed to yourself. Jungkook closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself down and avoid reacting. "His reputation exceeds him," you giggle. This time she gave you a dirty look and ignored you.

"Too bad you're not in our department. You'd be a sight for sore eyes," she raked her eyes over him and winked.

"That's about all he's useful for, you should take him really," you grumbled. That was Jungkook's last straw. He finally turned to you, acknowledging your existence.

"Are you serious right now?" He glared. Your stomach flipped as you finally got a good look at him - tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, and fury swimming in his eyes. Yeah, the alcohol is definitely getting to me - you thought to yourself. You just shrugged in response.

“Get up. Now,” Jungkook demanded, voice low. You rolled your eyes but complied and slid off your chair as Jungkook slid out of the booth. As soon as you were up, you were being dragged away with a tight grip on your wrist, . He took you to the far corner of the bar, out of sight from the booth everyone was at. You rubbed your wrist in pain when let go of you.

“What are you doing?” He asked. You noticed the tick in his jaw as he clenched it. It made his jawline look even sharper. Dragging your gaze away from his jaw back to his eyes, you gave him a questioning look. “Don’t play fucking dumb right now,” he belittled. Your stomach dropped at the insult.

“I know you’re celibate, but I’m trying to take this girl home and fuck her brains out,” he sneered.

You gulped. Something about this Jungkook was doing something to you. He never got angry with you. He always had a witty remark for every insult you threw his way. Seeing him like this was different; it was more real than his cocky facade. His brows were furrowed and he was glaring at you like he wanted to grab you by the neck. Fuck he looks so hot. Normally you would never let yourself think that, but the alcohol swirling in you was clouding your judgment. Fortunately, you were still sober enough to hide your lustful gaze.

“I’m trying to save the girl from a night of disappointment and misery,” you snickered. Your answer only seemed to anger him more. He stepped forward and you took a step back. His annoyance was written all over his face. A few more steps and he’d backed you against a wall and caged you in with a hand placed next to your face. You had never been so close to Jungkook before. Was he always this handsome? You could only stare up at him and hope he didn’t notice how turned on you were.

“We both know you don’t believe that,” he said, leaning down, his face way too close to yours. “You think I’m such a man whore right? Surely you don’t think I have these women coming back just for my pretty face?” He mocked you. You felt your face flush. “Then what is it? Why are you cockblocking me?”

You weren’t completely sure why you were acting the way you were. Watching that girl press up so close to him, whisper in his ear, laugh at his every work - it made you sick. Yet you couldn’t look away, you watched as he flirted so shamelessly and your stomach swirled with disgust.

“She’s fucking stupid. She fell for you. Really I’m doing her a favour.”

“Why do you care Y/n? Just because you don’t want me, doesn’t mean other people don’t.”

“Because they look so dumb fawning over you,” your gaze was hazy, “all they see is how ha-,” your eyes trailed down to his pretty lips, having the little sense to cut yourself off before saying what you were going to say. “They’re always the same; flipping their hair, laughing at your dumb jokes, climbing into your lap. And you eat it up every time.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed for a moment before he scoffed.

“What, are you jealous sweetheart?” He joked dryly. “Wish it was you instead?” He asked, trying to annoy you and fully expecting you to get angry. Turns out, it worked. Something fiery and ugly crawled through your veins as the words left his mouth, making you feel hot. You couldn’t face what the feeling was - just knowing Jungkook was making you feel something so dark was enough to stop your train of thought. You refused to become one of those girls...you couldn't.

“You know what? Never mind, you guys are perfect for each other,” you mumbled while quickly slipping under his arms. The possibility of you being jealous was sobering. It cleared your mind enough to know you should get back to the table. Enough to see how dangerously close to disaster you were. But just as you made it a foot past him, he pulled you back, pressing your back against the wall. His gaze was different now - dark and piercing. It held you captive, like a deer caught in headlights. You couldn’t look away and neither could you pull out of the tight grip he had on your arm.

“What, that’s it? Not even gonna give me shit for that?” He questioned. The words were meant to be teasing but instead they sounded angry, nearly spiteful. His mind was racing as he put the whole picture together but refused to believe it. Embarrassment replaced the ugly feeling clawing up your throat, making your body burn up. His gaze became too intense and you had to look away. But he was not going to make this easy for you. He grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him as he patiently waited for you to say something, to deny what he was thinking. This was a whole new side of him that you were seeing for the first time. What was worse was that some part of you liked it. Your embarrassment reached a new height as the tension grew thicker between you. You wanted to scream, to run, to get as far away from Jungkook as you could - anything but admit this new found truth. Tears threatened to wallow in your eyes as the unease began eating you alive. But you forced them back, refusing to embarrass yourself any further. After several moments of silence from you, Jungkook let go of your jaw and scoffed in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he uttered, bewildered, before hanging his head. The short moment gave you reprieve, a second to breathe again now that he wasn’t looking into your soul. Your mouth opened to say something, anything to redeem yourself, but shut when you couldn’t think of anything. Then Jungkook was chuckling, which turned into a laugh that made his shoulders shake. It wasn’t a joyous laughter. No, it was mocking, cruel.

“This whole time,” he started, his laughter dying down as he looked at you again, “I thought there was an actual reason you hated me.” He straightened his back, now towering above you, and moved closer. He was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive. You quickly avoided his gaze, choosing to stare straight ahead at his chest instead. One of his hands came up to tangle in your hair before he yanked it, forcing you to look at him again. You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips as he pulled your hair. It only fueled that hunger in his eyes.

“All this time, you just needed to be stuffed full of cock huh? Needed me to fuck the attitude out of you?”

The words immediately sent a rush of arousal to your core, leaving you breathless. If it wasn't for the little bit of pride left in you, you would've jumped him. Jungkook watched as your eyes filled with lust and anger as you steeled your resolve. He quickly glanced around to see if any of your coworkers were nearby before grabbing your wrist and dragging you into the washroom. All you heard was the door locking before you were pinned to the wall.

“Come on Y/n, I wanna hear you say it. Tell me you're jealous. Tell me you want to be in my bed instead of her,” he growled, getting more bold by the second. You gulped, struggling to contain your reactions.

"Shut up," you spat out, finally finding your voice. "Go fuck her for all I care." You gave him the best glare you could muster up. Jungkook's eyes lit up with the challenge you presented, but the dark glint in them made you nervous. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand.

"If you're gonna lie, at least do it well," he taunted, his breath hitting your lips.

"I don't care what you do Jungkook. Just let me go" you whined, straining your wrists in his grip. He only tightened his hold on you, hiking your wrists further up the wall and forcing you on your tippy toes. His sheer strength was slightly jarring as you were left helpless in his grip.

"Yeah?," he scoffed, "then maybe I should go back out there and pick up where I left off." You felt your stomach drop at his suggestion. Some part of you deep down wanted more. But an even bigger part of you couldn't stand the thought of enduring more of him flirting with that girl.

"She's a bold one, you know? She kept pushing my hand up her thigh, closer to where she really wanted it," he teased, voice low.

His hand trailed along your waist, over your hips, then down your thigh. Your breath hitched at the gentle touch. His fingers brushed along the hem of your skirt, which suddenly felt too short. You couldn't seem to peel your eyes away from his tattooed fingers that threatened to slip under your skirt. Your heart pounded in your chest as thoughts of what else his hands could do flashed through your mind. Taking advantage of your silence, he continued.

"She's filthy, she would've let me touch her pussy right there at the table," he groaned. "Could've had her riding my fingers in front of everyone, trying her best to stay quiet." You shot him a glare, finding the thought repulsive - unless it was you he was touching of course. "Would you rather I leave you here and go do that?"

"Fuck you," you answered with a little too much anger and disgust. It was obvious that you cared, and you hated that. Jungkook raised a brow, a satisfied smirk dawning his lips.

"I'll take that as a no," he mused, fingertips dipping under your skirt, ghosting over the inside of your thigh. You let out a shaky breath.

"I didn't...I mean...," you stumbled over your words, trying to find an excuse. You didn't want him to have the upper hand. It hurt your ego.

"Come on, use your words Y/n. Tell me why you don't want me to go," he patronized, waiting to hear your answer. His fingers continued to trail upwards, making you fluster more. You ignored his request, hyperaware of his touch. If he moved his fingers any further up, he'd be able to feel your arousal and the thought was mortifying. He'd never let you live it down.

"Jungkook," you gasped, getting higher on your tippy toes in an attempt to get his fingers a little further away.

"Yes?" He answered, intrigued by the sudden flustered expression on your face.

"Don't...your fingers," you managed to say, squirming under him.

"What about them?" He asked, stilling their movement but dug them into the flesh of your inner thigh. You closed your eyes and muttered a prayer under your breath.

"This isn't appropriate.." you said shakily, staring at the his hand disappeared under your skirt. He scoffed at your words.

"Not appropriate?" he chuckled. "You know what else is inappropriate? The constant belittling and insults you throw my way." The amusement dissipated from his voice. "The way you humiliate me in front of everyone is inappropriate Y/n," his words pierced you. The internal battle between guilt and arousal you were feeling left your head fuzzy.

"Listen, I'm sorr-" you started, genuinely wanting to apologize, seeing how upset he was. But he cut you off, not wanting to hear your apology.

"And what's especially inappropriate is the way you're looking at me right now," he growled. A rush of arousal flowed through you as he called you out. "It's inappropriate how your eyes are begging me to touch you."

The breath was knocked out of you as he pointed out everything that you thought he hadn't noticed. "I bet if I touched you right now, you'd be fucking soaked," he said, voice low.

"Jungkook please," you said breathlessly, begging him to stop speaking as your legs threatened to give out under you.

"Please what?" he asked, forcing you to spell it out for him.

"Please...I can't.." you whimpered. The sound made him groan.

"You can't?" he questioned, "Can't take it anymore?" Your eyes threatened to tear up again. "Want me to stop? Or do you want me to touch you?"

You took a second to think about it, calming your overwhelmed nerves. Were you actually going to give in to your desires? Was it worth the never ending humiliation and mockery you'd face after? You took one look at his hungry eyes and decided - fuck it.

"Touch me," you finally said, heart racing. His eyes darkened and he wasted no time in obliging. He quickly hiked your skirt up to your hips, his fingers slipping between your clothed folds. All thoughts escaped your mind as Jungkook finally touched you where you wanted.

"Fuck, you really are soaked - for me," he growled. You had half the mind to remind him that he was also clearly enjoying himself. But your eyes fluttered shut and the words transformed into a moan as his fingers rubbed over your clit again. Pleasure coursed through your body, the tension between you two only adding to the fire between your legs. "I turn you on that much?"

You could only huff in response, too focused on the pleasure. His fingers slid down, rubbing through your wetness. Then he stopped. You groaned at the loss, opening your eyes to shoot him a glare. You were met with Jungkook's dark, lustful gaze. His eyes scanned your features hungrily, catching on your lips before stopping at your eyes. The look on your face was one he was used to. The look of anger, frustration, borderline hate. Usually he despised it, but in that moment he savoured it. This time, it was mixed with desperation - desire. It made him proud that he was able to push you to this point.

"Are you kidding me?" you asked, clearly annoyed.

"So cute how you think you'll get your way every time," he mumbled, a devilish smirk resting on his lips. "You know what one of the first things I noticed about you was? How you weren't afraid to speak your mind." It felt strange to hear Jungkook complimenting you like this, but you still felt like this was a trap. "Obviously, back then I didn't know that I'd grow to hate it," he chuckled. You rolled your eyes.

"But I want you to speak your mind now. You've always said every terrible thing you thought about me. So tell me what you're thinking about me now Y/n," he said, eyes staring into your soul like he knew every filthy thought that was running through your mind. He moved closer, his lips grazing against your ear as he whispered, "Still thinking of how much you hate me?"

"No," you answered, wanting him to get on with it.

"What are you thinking then?" Every inch of you screamed at you not to answer. But you knew there was only one way out of this. Jungkook wanted the truth, he wanted to hear you say it.

"I'm thinking about your hands, your fingers," you said softly, grateful that he had his face buried in your neck so that you didn't have to look him in the eye.

"What about 'em?" His breathing was ragged against your skin, like he couldn't wait to finally hear the words.

"Thinking about how good they look on my legs," you admitted, heart racing. Jungkook didn't answer, only taking a sharp breath in. A few more seconds of silence and you gulped, deciding to take the leap.

"Thinking about how big your hands are. And how good your fingers would feel inside of me," you said, gasping as his fingers resumed their ministrations. Jungkook pulled his head back, finally looking at you again, a dark lust painted across his features.

"Thinking about cumming on your fingers and your cock," you said, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure worked its way through your body again. "Thinking about how much I hate that you're making me feel this way."

Jungkook cursed under his breath, making you open your eyes.

"Why?" The question was simple, but it felt heavy. His eyes bore into your; anger, lust, and focus swirling around in them.

"I don't wanna be one of those girls," you answered, voice barely above a whisper. A cold look washed over his face for a brief moment.

"How does it feel then? You're here, soaked and begging me to touch you. About to cum on my fingers. I'm the one making you feel this good," he growled, fingers picking up their pace. "Are you angry? Disgusted?"

His fingers had you hurtling towards the edge, leaving your mind hazy. You barely processed his question as the pressure built up in your core again. All you could do was moan his name as you quickly reached your climax. But then his fingers were gone, leaving you crashing. There was a moment of silence as disbelief and anger coursed through you. When you looked back at him, his expression seemed colder.

“What the fuck Jungkook?!” you nearly shouted when you finally came back to your senses. “I was so close!” you grit through your teeth.

“Oh were you?” Jungkook mocked, observing your angered reaction.

“I should’ve known. Of course you’re a selfish douchebag in bed too,” you spat. A smirk formed on his lips as he raised a brow at your words.

“It’s bewildering that those girls come back when you can’t even get them off once. I guess it is just for your pretty face,” you sneered, wanting him to him to be equally as pissed of as you. He let go of your wrists and buried a hand in your hair before yanking it back. You yelped at the harsh tug that forced your head back, exposing your neck to him.

“God you really just keep running your mouth, don’t ya?” He growled. “A few more seconds and we both know you would’ve creamed your panties.” You gulped at his words, unable to deny them.

“But only good girls get to cum,” he whispered, his hot breath on your ear sending shivers down your spine. He let go of your hair, putting a little space between you two. “You think you deserve to cum?” He asked.

“After months of being an asshole to me, never listening to anything I said, treating me like an idiot? All because you wanted my cock stuffed in your tight pussy.” The anger swirling in his eyes only turned you on more.

“Did you really think I’d give you what you wanted so easily Y/n?” he mocked. “After all that, did you think I’d let you have your way? Maybe finally fuck you how you’ve wanted? Have you screaming my name, squirting all over my cock, over and over again?” While his words added to the arousal between your legs, his tone left you humiliated. You could feel your face getting hotter.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to mutter while staring at the floor. Jungkook chuckled darkly before grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him.

“Oh baby, no. Sorry won’t cut it. If you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to earn it,” he growled, staring right into your eyes.

Then he let go of your jaw. He was angry with you, so angry. But watching you beg, cry his name, submit to him made his cock impossibly hard. As he fumbled with his belt and pants, you understood what he wanted. Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees before him. Jungkook cursed under his breath at the way you looked up at him. You reached forward to help him as he shakily unzipped his pants, but he merely brushed your hands away. You waited patiently, your heart racing in anticipation of finally seeing his cock. Relief spread across his face when he finally pulled his aching cock out of its confines. You licked your lips at the sight. Jungkook’s hand squeezed at the base as he slapped your cheek with his cock.

“Open,” he demanded. You obeyed, opening your mouth and letting your tongue out. Jungkook slapped his heavy cock on your tongue, groaning as you looked up at him. His cock twitched against your tongue as he admired the lewd image in front of him. You swirled your tongue around the tip before closing your lips around it. Jungkook grunted, still looking at you with dark eyes. But he refused to move, leaving you to do all the work for now. So, you slowly sunk your mouth down on his cock, brushing his hands away from the base. When you’d finally sunk all the way down, your nose brushing against his pelvis, Jungkook’s head rolled back and he let out a heavy sigh that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Seeing him crumble under your touch boosted your pride and ego. Feeling like you finally had some power in this situation, you decided to go further, just to pull more of those cute whimpers out of him. You pulled back before sinking down on him again, letting his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck, he moaned, his hands flying to the back of your head to grab your hair. You repeated the action two more times, pulling a string of curses and moans from his lips that hit your ears like music. Just as you were pulling your head back for another time, Jungkook’s hands pushed your head forward, thrusting his own hips so his cock was buried deep in your throat. The action caught you off guard, your hands coming up to hold his thighs, attempting to stabilize yourself. Your throat burned at the abrupt intrusion and you felt tears beginning to well in your eyes as he held you there. But the look of pleasure etched on his face and the pretty moans leaving his lips were incentive enough for you to stay there. You tried your best to focus on breathing through your nose as he buried his cock as deep as he could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “Who knew your mouth felt this fucking good?” He asked rhetorically, his voice low and hoarse, finally opening his eyes. Seeing you looking up at him with his cock stuffed down your throat, tears streaming down your face, and trying your best to nod to his question proved to be overwhelming for Jungkook. He felt like he could cum right there and then. With a growl, he yanked you off his cock, finally giving you a chance to breathe. You coughed as you tried to catch your breath, trying to wipe away your tears and the saliva dripping down your chin. He had to look away from you for a moment or he thought he’d go crazy. So he slowly stroked his cock, letting his head roll back, as you caught your breath.

You breathed heavily, unable to do anything but look up at him in a haze. As soon as you caught your breath, you wrapped your lips around his cock again. Jungkook looked at you through hooded eyes as you eagerly sank down on his cock again. He didn’t even give you a second to readjust, a hand fisting your hair as his hips snapped forward. He set a rough pace, leaving your throat feeling raw already. You could feel his anger and frustration with every thrust.

“Fuck, I should’ve just done this,” he growled. “Every time you ran your mouth, should’ve just stuffed it with cock. Bet you would’ve loved that,” he grunted, quickly getting close to the edge. You whimpered softly around him, unsure if you were agreeing or not. “Such a fucking slut,” he groaned, punctuating the words with harsh thrusts. His movements were getting rougher and sloppier as he hurtled closer to the edge. You held onto his thighs for support, letting him use your mouth.

“Fuck I’m getting close,” he groaned. He cursed under his breath seeing the anticipation in your eyes. He quickly yanked your head back and stroked his cock quickly. “Fucking hell, you know how bad I wanna cum all over your face? Let everyone at the table see what a fucking cockslut you are for me?” He groaned, his hand moving quickly. You stared up at him, burning the sight into your mind.

“Don’t care, just want your cum,” you gasped, still catching your breath. That was all Jungkook needed to hear to completely lose himself.

He quickly buried his cock in your mouth again as he came. Curses and moans spilled from his lips, his hot cum shooting down your throat. You could see his adam’s apple move with every groan and it was driving you crazy. There was no doubt that you were soaking wet and you ached to be filled up. Your tongue soothed his cock, coaxing him to give you more. Even after he finished, he kept himself buried in your mouth, savouring the feeling. After a few moments, he finally pulled away. His gaze was piercing as he tucked himself back into his pants, straightening himself up. You finally stood up again, brushing at your aching knees. Your heart was pounding in your ears at the anticipation of what was going to come. After all, you’d definitely been good to him. Jungkook looked at your sloppy appearance and smiled sadistically.

“Who knew you were such a filthy slut?” He taunted, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Sucking dick in a public bathroom so desperately,” he mocked. His tone made your stomach drop. Your heart continued racing with excitement and unease. He leaned in closer. “Should be enough dick to get you through the next week without being a bitch to me, right?”

You couldn’t hide the wince at his words. The spite in his voice stung. Sure he was degrading you before, but this time he sounded like he meant it. He stepped back from you, looking over you without a hint of warmth. “Might wanna clean up before you come back out,” he said nonchalantly, unlocking the bathroom door. “Wouldn’t want everyone to know that you had my cock down your throat,” he said coldly. Then he was out the door, leaving you a mess, alone in the bathroom. You couldn’t move for a few moments, still trying to process what had just happened. You’d never seen him that angry and bitter before. You couldn’t believe that he’d just left you to clean yourself up after all that. The only thing that snapped you out of your thoughts was the thought of someone walking in on you like this. You finally moved to lock the door again.

“What the fuck,” you sighed, looking at yourself in the mirror. You shot yourself a dirty look, seeing the state you were in. You felt humiliated. As you fixed yourself up, you mentally cursed yourself for letting your guard down around Jungkook. You should’ve known that he would act like a dick. Underneath that charming exterior, he was downright awful. Of course he would insult and humiliate you after getting what he wanted. You could feel the anger bubble up in your chest, threatening to make you march back to the table and yell at him in front of everyone. But you knew you couldn’t. You’d be exposing yourself in that process and the last thing you wanted people to know was that you gave in to Jungkook. You couldn’t be seen as one of those stupid girls that were chasing him all the time. You weren’t one of them. Taking a deep breath to calm down, you took one last look in the mirror. After making sure you looked decent again, you finally stepped out of the bathroom.

As you walked back to the table, an obnoxious, high pitched laugh made your stomach churn with dread. Jungkook sat there, his arm draped over the booth behind the same girl from before, smirking as he spoke to her. She was leaning in so close that any movement would have their lips touching. You felt sick when he whispered in her ear, chuckling at whatever she responded with. You could’ve thrown up right there and then, your blood running cold. There was no way in hell you were gonna sit there and watch him act like this after everything that happened. As soon as you got to the table, you grabbed your bag and jacket, refusing to look at the two of them.

“Hey, Y/n are you leaving?” someone asked. You couldn’t even tell who was talking, too busy trying to escape this hell. “Yeah, feeling kinda sick,” you mumbled, already turning on your heels. You heard some ‘goodbye’s and ‘feel better’s from behind you but you just hastily waved without turning around. When you finally got into the cold night, the air felt like a slap to your face. It smacked some sense back into you. Your mind reeled with the events of the night and you wondered what you could’ve possibly been thinking. You just started speed walking, nearly sprinting, towards the subway, desperate to get home and wash the filth and disgust that caked your skin and clawed at your insides.

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cycat-carisi · 3 months ago

Text

Spent

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

Summary: IDK...shameless smut? Basically, reader wakes up from doing the do and she's ready to pounce on Steve again.

Tags/warnings: Smut! 18+ ONLY. NO MINORS. Established relationship, p in v, slight breeding kink if you squint I guess.

Words: 1127

A/N: *runs and hides*

Fic below the cut or on AO3

Consciousness pushes through heavy sleep as you slowly rouse awake.

"Have a good nap, baby?" a voice jokes softly. "You conked out for a few minutes there." Propped on an elbow at your side, Steve peers down lovingly at you through disheveled chestnut locks.

The room is dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the window of your shared home. You stir again. There is a stickiness between your legs that brings you back to reality, reminding you of what took place not even a half hour before. As your thighs part, you feel more seep out from your core, sending an immediate rush of heat scorching through your veins.

Steve loves when he wears you out. He loves to watch your lashes flutter shut, unable to stay awake after a passionate round of lovemaking. He adores how peaceful you appear when you curl into his side, feeling safe and loved enough to fall asleep in his arms.

But Steve also loves nights like this where you awaken even hungrier for him than before.

Whether it is the memory of him pinning you to the sheets or the fact that the evidence of your lovemaking still fills you, that brings upon your reinvigorated passion, Steve has no idea. But one thing he is certain of is that your desire reignites his within, too.

Eyes darkening with a smile playing upon your lips, you waste no time shaking off the jittery feeling that comes from short naps and quickly capture Steve’s lips with your own. The kiss is hot and needy, all tongues and teeth. You push Steve's shoulders into the mattress and straddle his hips.

The sensation of him springing to life between your thighs makes you moan, and the mixture of his previous release and your rejuvenated arousal makes him slick against your folds.

Except, you aren't done with his mouth just yet. Your lips burn hot against his while your fingers tangle in his already messy tresses. The sensation pulls a low moan from his throat while his hands sear heat against your waist. Steve then glides them higher to cover your breasts, squeezing and kneading, thumbs circling your nipples. The sensation tingles, sending goosebumps scattering over your naked body, heat pooling low in your belly.

You exhale deeply as he continues his ministrations, your combined breaths morphing into pants. Fueled by lust, you begin grinding your hips down against Steve, earning you yet another needy moan.

It's all too much.

Hastily, you reach between you, lifting your hips just enough to take a firm grip on him. His own hips jerk in response, and he kisses you that much deeper.

"Need you, baby," he gasps against your lips.

"Then, I'm yours," you grin, aligning him with your entrance.

You steady yourself with a hand on his pecs as you slowly sink down. You bite your lip at the stretch, eyes screwing shut. A warm hand sweeps to caress your back, a small gesture of comfort amidst the fervent passion of the moment.

Greedily, you take every inch, fully seating yourself against his pelvic bone. You watch as Steve glances down to where you're connected and groans loudly. "You take me so– " but you cut him off by clenching your walls around him.

His darkened eyes fly to yours, amazed by your boldness. "I know," you mouth cheekily. But this time it's Steve's turn to interrupt. His wide palms grip the flesh of your bum, and he lifts your hips. You sense the exquisite slide of his length within your heat, and your eyes widen, fearful that he's going to pull you all the way off him.

However, Steve is just as much a tease. With hazel eyes locked onto yours, his grip on you tightens, halting his movements once he barely remains inside you. His legs then shift, and you release a desperate gasp, completely aware of what's coming.

"Yes," you beg through unsteady breaths, gaze still focused on his.

And that's when Steve's hips surge upwards. The move knocks the breath from your lungs. He enjoys the way your eyes flutter shut in complete bliss.

"Yes! Right there!" you cry out again and again as Steve sets a steady pace, rutting up into you. Each time he hits the one spot that makes you see stars.

The white mess from earlier stains his length as he fucks it back inside you, and you swear the sight of it causes Steve to shove his hips just that much deeper when they slam back up into yours.

"I'm so close," you whine into Steve's ear, that familiar coil winding tighter in your belly.

"Me too, baby," he reciprocates, "just hang on a little longer for me."

For him, you would do anything. Desperately you cling to the edge as he continues to make love to you. Your lips find the underside of Steve’s jaw, mouthing desperate kisses along his freckle-dusted neck, trying to edge him towards a shared release. The move causes his chest to heave beneath you as his hips pick up their pace. Now every movement sends him knocking against your spongy spot at a punishing rate.

Suddenly the coil snaps. You cry out his name, slipping over the edge as you spasm around him.

Steve’s response is immediate, driving his hips impossibly deeper inside you. Your body keeps him locked in place as he spills into your heat for the second time this evening. Swiftly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body flush against his as subtle involuntary kicks of his hips allow him to ride out the remainder of his high.

Finally, Steve stills. His hands smooth down your back, and he places soft kisses into your neck. His heart pounds against your chest, uniting the two of you in yet another intimate way. Steve strokes your damp hair behind your ear as you push yourself up on shaky arms. A dopey, blissful smile meets your gaze as you peer down at him. You duck back down to press your lips tenderly to his, soft, contended sighs filling the space between you. “Love you, babe,” you whisper against his lips.

“Love you, too,” Steve murmurs in return, voice laden with fatigue.

You smirk, raising yourself up on outstretched arms once again. “Oh no, did I tire you out this time?”

Through heavy eyelids, Steve can’t help but grin at your quip. “I guess we’re even, sweetheart,” he chuckles warmly before rolling the two of you on your side and tucking himself into your loving arms.

Quietly, you run your fingers through his dark hair, and it’s not long before Steve’s breathing evens out. Completely spent, he drifts off to sleep while you place delicate kisses against his forehead.

Fin.

Feedback is loved ♥

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #my fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x f!reader #I'm going to hell for writing this #*runs and hides*

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chris-hallelujah · 7 months ago

Text

Have You Ever Tried This One? pt. 2 | m.s.

Part One Here!

Warnings: foul language, oral (m and f receiving), alcohol usage

Word Count: 1.8k words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses @lvrsturniolo @sturnzsblog @nickgurl4life

Enter my giveaway!! (closes 11/15)

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: Thank you all for the love on part one! I was not expecting it to get the attention it did. Thank you again @delilahsturniolo for the inspo and letting me make your idea my own. I'm sorry if it feels rushed -- I knew you all were waiting for this so I tried to hurry!!

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened and you disappeared from the view of the crowd's view. "Goodnight Boston, I'll see you soon!" You called into the mic before handing it off to someone on stage crew. Your manager handed you a water bottle which you gladly took. Making your way back to your dressing room, she fussed over your hair and outfit.

"There are a few journalists who want to speak with you and those boys you invited backstage," she said powdering your face. You waved her off.

"I just got done with a concert, they can deal with a little bit of imperfection," you laughed walking out of your dressing room. In the lobby area backstage you saw the triplets with Chris' girlfriend standing against a wall. You waved at them to acknowledge them quickly before you had to deal with the few journalists. After about 10 minutes of interviews and answering questions, you were finally free. You sauntered over to the group with a smile. "Hi! I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting! I'm Billie, it is so nice to meet you all," You exclaimed shaking each of their hands as they introduced themselves. Your hand lingered connected to Matt's for a few seconds longer than the others. He was quiet, shy as you all conversed. Chris and Nick did most of the talking. "I've seen some of your videos. You guys are hilarious," you smiled looking across all of them but then locking eyes with Matt.

"Y-you've seen our videos?" he asked surprised, earning a nod from you.

"I have and I'm really honored you all came tonight. I hope you enjoyed the show." You all chatted for a bit before your manager passed by giving you a look to wrap it up. "It was great to get to meet you all. And, Matt, if you're up for it, I'd love to chat more." You flashed him a confident smile and handed him a paper with your number on it. He took it with a shaky hand, staring at it wide eyed.

"Yea, no, that - yea sounds good," he blurt out earning a laugh from his brothers.

"You might have broke him," Nick teased.

After you all parted ways you made your way back to your hotel room. The hot shower water ran down your body as you felt your muscles relax. The plush bathrobe hugged your body as you climbed out of the shower and, as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Hey, you put on a great show tonight. Thanks for the handcuffs. Now I just need to put them to use ;)

You're too sweet and a bit more bold when your brothers aren't around to tease you

They're a piece of work lol when can I see you again?

I'm at the four seasons room 311

Matt stared at his phone in shock. He never would have expected you to just give him the information for your hotel room. He quietly snuck out of his bedroom, not wanting to have to deal with telling Nick and Chris that he was going to see you.

You quickly freshened up, enough to look cute but not too much that you looked desperate. About 15 minutes later there was a knock at your hotel room door. Matt's face greeted you as you opened it. He was leaning against the wall with a slight smirk. You could already tell that he was a different Matt than you'd met earlier. "Hey, pretty girl," he spoke smoothly.

A slight blush crept your cheeks as you moved aside to let him in. You took in his all black outfit, noting how nice it looked on him. "Hi Matt," you smiled. Matt looked around, taking in the fancy hotel suite you were in.

"Nice place you got here. All of your tour stops this fancy?" he asked sitting down on the sofa.

You laughed a bit, "I try and make them feel like home a bit. Traveling so much can be exhausting and it's nice to come back to a hotel room that has all that I need in it." Shuffling through the mini fridge, you pulled out some wine. "You want some?" He nodded leading you to pour two glasses. You took a spot next to him on the sofa, not leaving much room between you, but enough for it to not be awkward. "So, tell me about you. What do I need to know about Matt Sturniolo?" you asked.

He took a sip of the wine before turning fully to face you, "Well, as you know I'm a triplet. I'm the middle one. We've been doing YouTube since-"

You cut him off shaking your head. "I don't want to know about your brothers. Tell me about you." This caused Matt's head to spin. He wasn't used to people only wanting to learn about him. People always loved Chris for his looks and Nick for his humor, but sometimes Matt felt swept under the rug. ((I'm crying writing this))

A smile on his face, he took a different approach, "Okay well, I really like nature. I feel so at peace when I'm outside. I also used to be really into reading. Fell outta that for a while, but I'm starting to pick it up again." The two of you chatted getting to know each other and finishing the bottle of wine quicker than either of you had planned.

It had been an hour of just drinking and talking and before you knew it your legs were draped over his lap, hands in his hair. He had his lips attached to yours as he held your hips. You weren't quite sure how you got there, but you weren't complaining. Matt pulled away slightly, earning a whine from you. Both of you breathing heavily, he leaned his forehead against yours. "You sure about this, miss popstar?" he said, teasing you slightly. You giggled and nodded, placing your lips on his neck. He groaned, tilting his head back to give you more access. You trailed down his jawline, then his neck, and to his collarbone leaving bites and kisses in your path. A flash of pink covered your eyes as Matt tugged your shirt off over your head and tossed it to meet his on the floor. He picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. Something caught your eye, peeking out of his back pocket. Something pink. With fur? Oh my god.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you tugged the fuzzy pink handcuffs you had gifted him at the concert out of his back pocket. "I see you wanted to break in your gift," you smirked, twirling them on your finger. He chuckled snatching them from you and tossing them to the side.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, they'll get used soon," he winked. His pants hit the floor and your eyes trailed down his body. Before you knew it, you found yourself on your knees in front of him. "Such a good girl. Didn't even have to tell you," he smirked. You were practically drooling at the sight of him. Your hand wrapped around his length causing him to hiss slightly. As your lips enclosed around his tip, his hand found home in your hair. Your tongue swirled around him slowly before you closed the distance between your lips and his groin. He groaned loudly as you took him in deeper. Impulsively, his hand pushed your head further, causing a choking noise to leave you. "Shhh, you got it, princess. Doin' - ah - doing so well," he moaned as your head bobbed. As you moved your head back and forth, your hand covered what didn't fit in your mouth. It did not take long for Matt's hand to coerce you a bit more forcefully as you noticed his body tense up. "Oh fuck, keep goin," he moaned. A few more pumps later you felt his load shoot into your mouth as he groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. You pulled off of him with a slight 'pop' and sat with a satisfied grin on your face. He let out a deep breath before looking down at you.

Next thing you knew, your back hit the mattress and Matt hovered over you. "Better wipe that smirk off that pretty little face," he chuckled. To your right you heard the sound of metal clinking. Matt's hand gathered your small wrist and cuffed you to the bed. You looked up at the handcuffs and back at him whimpering slightly. Your arms wiggled causing the metal to clank against the headboard. "What? Can't handle what you dish out?" he smirked and trailed kisses down your torso. When he reached your underwear, his eyes met yours again for approval. As you nodded, he discarded your thong onto the floor. Your hips twitched in anticipation as you felt his breath on your core. The wide grin on his face was undeniable as he watched you already writhing beneath him. "So sensitive," he chuckled tracing circles on your thigh, "barely even touched you yet."

"Matty, please," you whined. He ended your suffering licking a stripe up your folds. Your hips lifted at the contact and you gasped loudly. He quickly shoved your hips back down to the bed and held them there with his hands, probably leaving bruises that would show tomorrow. Matt explored you with his tongue, taking note on what made your legs shake. As his tongue circled your clit, he felt your hips try to raise against his hands. "Oh! Matt fuck" you moaned loudly. He smiled against you knowing he figured out your weakness. He continued to work your bundle of nerves until you were a writhing, moaning mess underneath him. The noise of the handcuffs fighting the headboard earned a laugh from Matt's mouth that vibrated against you. Your body tensed as your climax built up. He slipped a finger into you, thrusting quickly as his tongue danced against your clit. You felt pleasure take over your body. "Matt - my god! Don't stop!" you cried out. He continued to ride out your orgasm until your body relaxed and you panted against the bed. He carefully removed his fingers from you and crawled up to meet your eyes. Your lips wrapped around his fingers, tasting yourself as you licked them clean. He removed his fingers from your mouth and unlocked the handcuffs.

A soft kiss landed on your forehead as he pulled his t shirt over your head. You smiled climbing under the covers. Pulling his boxers back on before he climbed into bed with you. The night was spent wrapped in each others' arms.

The morning light showed through the curtains as you woke. After cuddling up to Matt for a few more minutes, you reached for your phone. Your eyes widened as you saw messages from your manager. Attached was an article titled, "YouTube Triplet Seen at Pop Star's Hotel." You knew this was not going to end well with your publicity team but, boy, was it worth it.

#matt sturniolo #Matthew sturniolo #Chris sturniolo #Christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #Spotify

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eternal-sunshine-222 · 6 months ago

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Omg hii I saw that you are writing for Judd birch. I’m so happy to see that the tag is getting a little more active now. Could you please write a blurb for Judd x alt!reader where Judd and reader are just hanging out and someone in the birch family catches him being all soft and cuddly with reader?

Hii! I will tell you right now I just recently started watching Big Mouth so I don't know too much about many of the characters, but I will do my best! This is my first request on here and to be honest I'm really glad it's for Judd. I didn't think many people would want me to write for him so I'm excited. I hope you like it! <3

YOU BIG SOFTIE, YOU - Judd Birch x Alt!Reader

Characters: Judd Birch, fem!reader, Nick Birch, Diane Birch, Elliot Birch, Leah Birch

Warnings: light cursing

Contains: lots and lots of fluff

Judd Birch was not a people person at all, not even with his own family. He preferred to stay by himself, his only company being his battalion of raccoons and he was perfectly fine with that. He didn't need someone constantly nagging him. Now, cliche as it is, that all changed when he saw her. He would do anything for her, anything at all.

Y/n was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with her hair dyed dark crazy colors, bold graphic makeup, and band tees that never seemed to end. She, much like himself, didn't seem to care about social status or making friends at school. She wanted out of that hell hole as soon as physically possible.

The eldest Birch spawn had approached Y/n almost nervously after school one day with plans of asking her if she'd like to come meet his raccoons. But, alas, he chickened out. He couldn't believe that; that was something Nick did, not him! Eventually after watching Y/n for weeks the woman herself approached him outside during their lunch break, ready to beat him down if he was perving on her.

It was almost Christmas break, very cold outside. When Y/n approached Judd who was leaning against the side of the brick school building smoking a cigarette, his black and blue hair lightly blowing in the cold breeze, she could've fainted right then and there. He was beautiful. Y/n had only ever saw him from yards away, definitely not close enough to get a good look at his features. She liked what she was looking at and she liked it a lot. It would be such a shame if he really was perving on her.

Judd hadn't seen who he referred to as the girl of his dreams approaching until she spoke to him for the very first time.

"Hey."

It was such a small, simple greeting yet it caused him to lose all the breath in his lungs and start coughing violently. Y/n jumped slightly, startled at the sudden reaction. She quickly took a water bottle out from her bag and handed it to him, hoping to ease the burning he felt in his lungs. Judd chugged down half of it before handing it back to Y/n with a flushed face and narrowed embarrassed eyes.

"First time smoking?" Y/n joked lightheartedly, a small smile on her face as she glanced up at him from her bag.

Judd's face turned even redder and just nodded at her, stubbing out what was left of his burning cigarette.

Y/n sighed at his lack of words and had mentally decided that she apparently wasn't going to get any answers out of him, but she talked anyway.

"I've seen you staring at me for the past few weeks. Wanted to know what that was all about. Care to tell me?" She raises a thin drawn on eyebrow at him as she tucks her gloved hands underneath her arms to warm them up further.

Judd doesn't answer her immediately, stuck on what to say. Y/n waits a few moments more before sighing and starts to walk away.

'So much for that,' she thinks to herself.

"Go out with me."

Y/n stops in her tracks and whips her head around.

"I'm sorry?"

Judd is silent.

"Please?" He's hopeful.

Y/n walks back over to where he's still leaning against the school building. Her arms are still crossed as she narrows her brows slightly in confusion.

"Is that what you've been wanting? Because you could've just said so instead of being a creep. I mean, look at us." Y/n gestures to their alternative appearances. "It's like we're made for each other!"

Judd smiles, knowing she's joking but also getting a hint of seriousness from her words.

Y/n took Judd up on his offer of a date and the two have been pretty much inseparable ever since. They spent all their time together, skipping school to drive around, going to small diners around the neighborhood late at night for their little dates. But they kept in on the downlow. Both parties felt it was not necessary for people to know what wasn't any of their business. It wasn't until Christmas day that the Birch family found out Judd even had a girlfriend of sorts.

Shortly after school had let out for break Y/n and Judd had spent the day together at her apartment with her parents. They were very supportive of their daughter's relationship. As long as she was safe.

And safe she was. Y/n and Judd swapped gifts early on that morning seeing as she would be going on a small trip to a few states away to visit some family for Christmas. He had gifted her a new pair of large black boots, something she had been eyeing for a while, along with a new pocketknife for which she thanked him thoroughly and showered him with kisses. In turn Y/n had gifted him a lovely soft deep blue sweater and a chain necklace with her initial on it.

Judd loved the sweater she got him but he didn't love it as much as his new chain. He never took it off unless it was to shower. It had quickly become his most prized possession and he would die before he let anyone touch it, let alone take it. Unfortunately, that day came a lot sooner than he would've liked.

Judd woke up midway through Christmas day which resulted in an even later shower. He undressed and before he stepped in he put his chain in the same place he always did: on the little shelf above the sink, careful to make sure it didn't fall off to the side or down into the sink. But when he got out it wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Panic filled his heart and chest, his entire being really, as he searched the entire bathroom from floor to ceiling. After finding nothing he wrapped a towel around his still dripping form and slammed the door open. He almost slipped rushing down the stairs and into the living room where his mother sat on his father's lap and Nick and Leah were on opposite ends of the couch.

"Where the fuck is it?" His voice was harsh and his eyes narrowed, cheeks red.

Diane looked over at her eldest child from the television and smiled kindly.

"Where's what, darling?"

Judd huffed out a breath, impatient and worrying, afraid he might tear up.

"My chain. The one I always wear. Where is it?"

It's only then that he notices Nick with a small smirk on his face as he looks at his phone. His eyes narrow more and he frowns before lunging at his younger brother. The two wrestle for a short time with Judd easily overpowering his youngest sibling before he stands, wet hair ruffled messily and towel askew, held in place by only one hand as his other clutches onto the chain he retrieved from Nick's pocket.

"Stay out of my shit, dickface." He then stomps back upstairs to the bathroom and slams the door shut.

The remaining members of the Birch family all look at each other with curious eyes before Elliot speaks up.

"What was all that about?"

Nick, who is still out of breath with red cheeks, shrugs his shoulders and they all continue with their previous activities.

It isn't until Valentine's Day that the Birch family meets Y/n. The love-filled holiday fell on a weekday this year, meaning his siblings would be in school and his parents would most likely be spending the day out and about going on little dates. He thought he'd have the entire house to himself so he invited Y/n to come over so they could spend quality time together.

Judd and Y/n spent most of their time watching horror movies on the downstairs television, cuddled up under the many blankets that Y/n had brought over with neither getting up unless to use the bathroom or make more popcorn and snacks. It was a laid back, calm day, just how both liked it.

Both Judd and Y/n wished this day would never end.

But unfortunately it had to.

Y/n fell asleep on top of Judd sometime during their fourth movie of the day, her face buried in his neck with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He was starting to doze off himself when he heard the front door unlock and open quickly. As much as he wished his family wouldn't say anything he knew they would. But he wasn't going to take any chances in waking Y/n up so he stayed perfectly still and let them.

Nick and Leah were the first to enter the living room. Leah glanced at her older brother laying on the couch briefly before continuing on to her room. Nick on the other hand stopped in his tracks and stared at the girl laying on top of his brother for an ungodly amount of time before Judd raised a tired eyebrow at him. It was only then that he called out for Elliot and Diane.

Judd quickly reached his hands up and covered his girlfriend's ears, shielding her from the loud voices as his parents entered the room. They, too, stopped in their tracks upon entering the living room but instead of staring they both smiled and grabbed onto each other.

"Oh, Judd, you big softy! I knew there was something going on with you." Diane smiled sweetly at her son and his newly revealed sleeping love. "How long?"

Judd cleared his throat lightly.

"Few months."

Elliot spoke up next.

"Looks like you got yourself a nice one, son. Just like you father." He turns to Diane and the two start to snuggle together.

Judd grimaces and turns away.

"Gross."

But Judd knew his father was right. Y/n was a nice one. The nicest. And he wouldn't change her for anything in the world.

I finally finished it! I really hope you like this, and like I said I just recently got into the show, so I don't know too much about it. I wrote this purely based off vibes alone. Please let me know if there's anything I can improve and don't be afraid to leave comments or ask questions. Thank you so much! <3

#big mouth #big mouth x reader #judd birch #judd birch x reader #judd birch fluff

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lucis-dove · 3 days ago

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Coffe𝖾 on dark nights {3}: 𝖢𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝗐

chapter summary; 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖩𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝖺𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌; 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 to-go 𝖼𝗎𝗉. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗂𝗍𝗍.

pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x reader

rating: Mature

chapter no: Chapter 3/10 𝗈𝖿 𝖢𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌

wc; 7𝗄

tags/warnings; 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾!𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

Author; @lucis-dove

a/n: 𝖮𝗁𝗁 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾-𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍? 𝖨 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

Jack had come by every weekday morning for more than a month, and for each of them, you'd been there.

Your schedule wasn't always so consistent. If anything, it was the complete opposite. You would even be bold enough to say Jack's was more consistent than yours at times, despite that the past month suggested otherwise. However, the doctor from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre had simply found one of the four openings during the year when you worked most morning shifts.

But that would change. You were set to return to the schedule rotation you usually had, alternating between morning and closing shifts.

A passing thought had been spared to Jack this morning when you'd been able to sleep in, even if the weekend was over. You'd wondered if he would notice your absence when greeted by one of your colleagues rather than you. If he would ask of your whereabouts or not.

However, while you thought the note you'd written about his free order weeks ago finally was about to come in handy, that wasn't the case.

When you'd arrived during mid-day on Monday, half an hour before the usual lunch rush, you gathered that Jack hadn't stopped by today.

While not able to linger on it much, every now and then, your eyes strayed to the door. You don't know how many times it happened between customers, but gathered it was enough for your colleagues to notice.

"Looking for someone?" Alice, the girl who worked part-time due to her studies, asks you in a lowered voice as she sidles up to you. She puts down the drink she'd called out the name for seconds earlier.

You manage to shoot her a look before offering a smile to the customer who collects the drink you'd finished not too long ago. A second person arrived just after, grabbing the drink Alice had prepared with a quick thank you before both headed to the exit. You couldn't help but follow them with your eyes.

That was until a snicker sounded from beside you, pulling your eyes to the blonde watching you. She didn't even try to hide her smirk.

"You're going to stare a hole into the door at this point."

"I'm not."

"No?" She pins you with an entertained stare. "How many other regulars who've stopped by… practically every other day are you waiting for, then?"

You shake your head with a resigned sigh. "You're reading way too much into it. He just likes the coffee."

"Sure." She pushes away from the counter, turning her body to you. "And you're just dying to brew that boring, filter coffee for him."

"Alice-"

"I'm just saying-"

"That your shift is coming to an end, and you're heading to your seminar?" Your brows arch. "I know. I made your schedule."

"Deflection, deflection," she hums with a smile, way too amused as she walks past you, heading for the back room as her shift did end soon.

Your eyes trail after her until she passes through the staff-only door.

It was from a passing conversation with Alice you received the news that Jack hadn't visited this morning. Apparently, you'd done a poor job at hiding your surprise, as she'd asked you, 'What was that look for?'.

Drowned periodically by the sounds of the barista machine and the clinking of ice cubes being scooped, you'd explained why you hadn't anticipated his absence.

Only when her eyes had gleamed in newfound knowledge that Jack hadn't missed a day did you fear you should've just shrugged and brushed her off, not elaborated on why he was the single person who got his order on the house apart from you.

You're busy preparing a cold brew when Alice walks out from the back. She's shed her apron but is still wearing the same clothes as before, except for the sweater she's pulled over her t-shirt.

As she stalls by the counter, you hand her the drink she always brings with her to class.

"I expect updates tomorrow," she raises her brows as she sips through the straw.

"There won't be any."

"Yeah, mhm, he only happened to miss the one morning when you suddenly started your closing shifts. I think fate says something else." Your brows rise in a silent 'Are you serious?'. She merely returns the expression. "I'm also expecting my order to be on the house when I'm right."

You chuckle and shake your head as you move to the register. "You already get things for half the price as an employee."

"And the hot doctor gets them for free, and how long has he come here? A month?" She rants as she moves around the counter, fishing up her phone on the way. She sends you a meaningful look as she stands opposite you. "And me? Since this place opened."

"You haven't even seen him," you redirect the attention to the first part of her sentence while she pays.

"Please, I have a good imagination." She winks at you before she spins on her heel. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you," you say with a laugh while you throw away her receipt.

You didn't entertain Alice's idea for longer than the duration she'd been in the café. Probably because you assumed Jack would continue his habit of getting a coffee after a shift rather than before. One day off didn't mean a permanent change. And as the day goes on, neither did you have a reason to consider yourself a fool for not doing it.

That was until your baker wished you goodbye, leaving you as the sole one left with less than an hour until closing.

You continued with the most recent order, packaging a croissant to-go for the middle-aged woman. However, your eyes unconsciously stray to the door at the interaction happening there.

Your baker had stalled before he could reach the door, now pulled open from the outside. Whoever it was let him leave before they entered.

Before you see the second person, you redirect your attention to the lady in front of you.

You hand her the paper bag, offering a 'There you go' and 'Have a great evening'. After she smiles kindly in return, your gaze instinctually seeks to welcome the next customer, only to spot a pair of hazel eyes already set on you further back in the queue.

Alice is not letting this go anytime soon.

Amusement more than surprise etches a smile on your face when you spot Jack at the end of the queue. It's a stark contrast to the brows already pinned high on his forehead.

Although the eye contact you hold across the shop is brief before you focus on the customer opposite you, there's enough time for you to send him a small smile during the moment of recognition.

You wouldn't call the café busy. Maybe for a weekday, but not on par with weekend standard. The queue never exceeded three people, most of whom had a pastry to go or ordered less caffeinated drinks. You even had time to busy yourself with collecting dishes from tables ahead every now and then.

Nonetheless, it's different from when Jack usually visits, as you're unable to greet him the moment he enters. That doesn't make his presence less noticeable as you feel him step up to the till once it's his turn. Even with your back turned and attention remaining on the order you just took.

After you finish and deliver the drink, you swiftly turn and head back towards Jack. A smile already forming as you find him with his arms crossed and head tilted.

"Why hello there," you slow to a stop in front of him, hands falling to the counter. He returns your greeting with his usual nod. Though this time, it also doubles as a motion towards you.

"Didn't know you worked late."

"And I thought I already would've seen you at this hour since you do." His mouth twitches at the edges. "So how come I see you tonight? Got tired of seeing me in the mornings?"

His arms drop as a soft huff escapes through his nose, never breaking eye contact. "Didn't work on Sunday, so my first shift of the week starts in half an hour."

You'd thought he looked remarkably fresh… or honestly, good would be a better word. His hair is less matted than what you're used to seeing. Greying curls more defined than frizzy and not plastered to his temples. His clothes don't have their usual creases. They're crisp and look as if they've been recently ironed or at least washed. And, if you didn't imagine it, you thought you smelled something close to cologne.

Warmth flares in your chest when you realise you've stared at him for a moment too long without saying anything.

Your eyes jump to his before you avert them from his gaze, head dipping into a nod as you wordlessly reply to what he said.

Of course, Jack's gaze is still unwaveringly set on you when you look up at him again.

You press your lips together as you roll on the soles of your feet. "So, how does a week in the life of Dr. Abbot look like?"

His head tilts as you ask the question.

"You mean my shifts?" You nod, once and more assuredly this time, as you don't break away from his eye contact. "Should only work 60, but it's normally closer to how many days are needed to reach 80 hours. Generally, five. If I have a double shift scheduled, four."

You'd worked more when the coffee shop opened than you did now. A new place needed time to settle before a routine was in place. But you never reached 60-hour workweeks. Not even close to 80.

If you hadn't realised you did, your hours certainly weren't comparable to Jack's anyway. Even with the kick of caffeine, you don't think you would manage his work. Not to talk about heading straight into it without the help of synthetic energy.

"Why haven't I seen you in the evenings?" You ask out of curiosity, finally voicing the question far from rising for the first time. "Makes more sense to have coffee before your shift than after, surely."

"You haven't worked. You don't know if I have." You roll your eyes, causing Jack's mouth to tick up into a smirk.

"Theoretically, Jack," you retort.

He gives you a sideways nod while his brows rise and fall, mirth still shining in his eyes. "I have settled for the coffee at work."

You scoff, the closest to offended you'd actually been by any of his comments. "And what made you come in tonight?"

Jack looks at you, chin dropping just slightly. "You've spoilt me with good coffee enough times."

"Took you long enough to be converted." You puff your chest on a deep breath, then give him a nod, one oozing of finality. "And I'm happy to continue doing it."

Jack's brows twitch upwards, swift and more of a jerk before they drop again.

He hadn't lied about usually getting a coffee from the staff lounge. If he decided to spare the ten minutes needed for that, he sometimes brought a thermos with him from home. But, for whatever reason, he hadn't stopped by here before his shifts.

He'd estimated your working hours to be no way near his. If that meant eight or six if you worked weekends, he wasn't sure. But, he presumed if you worked mornings, you wouldn't be here near closing as well.

With that in the back of his mind, Jack hadn't bothered with the detour to the coffee shop before work. He argued he could take thirty minutes extra to sleep, even if he always woke up at the same time, no matter what.

That he stopped by today was purely on a whim. A whim influenced mainly by Dr. Shen's request to grab him a drink if he was early, as the other attending physician was running late and wouldn't have time for his usual coffee stop.

"While I remember-" You watch Jack as he grabs the phone from his pocket, eyes cast down on the screen as he holds it low before turning and showing it to you. "-do you do that?"

Your eyebrows raise, sending him an inquisitive look before your gaze falls to the conversation on his phone. Leaning over the counter to get closer, you catch the name at the top of the conversation. Shen. You beat down a question regarding who it was, continuing the search to find whatever Jack was referring to.

There are few worded replies from his side, whereas the other person's messages are lengthier. Skimming through the back and forth that mainly consists of discussion about work schedules, off-time and most recently how this Shen is running late, you finally find what you're looking for.

Can you get me my Iced caramel latte?

"Oh, yeah, we do those!" You smile teasingly up at him. "You running coffee errands now?"

He scoffs as he shuts off the phone and turns it in his hand. "A colleague is cutting it close and doesn't want to function without this. I don't want to hear him whine about it."

You press your lips together, making your chuckle escape through your nose as Jack shakes his phone.

You straighten your spine, fingers tapping against the countertop as you watch him. "So, have you had any yourself today?"

He shakes his head. "Coffee wasn't ready at work."

Only then do you notice he isn't carrying his backpack. "I'll make you your usual then."

Just as you're about to turn, he takes a step forward. An indication rather than an actual attempt to get closer. You halt, watching as he raises the wallet you hadn't noticed he'd taken out.

With raised brows, you send him a look but don't even have the chance to more than open your mouth before Jack cuts you off, "I'm paying for his."

The pronoun 'his' was followed by an admonishing silly at yourself. Whether you wanted to or not, your mind had lingered on his colleague's name.

"I can let you off this time; you're doing your colleague a favour."

"I will pay", he states again, refusing your altruism. "I don't want him to expect he can stop by anytime and get things for free. You'll never get rid of him."

"What, like you?" It's not even a dig. Your smile is too big to even come close to deliver it with the needed edge.

"Can't have two addicts raiding your stocks." Jack feels the smile on his cheeks upon your unfiltered laughter that continued even after you readied the transaction and gave him the go-ahead to pay.

It's a first when Jack's order is done in seconds rather than minutes. Unlike his morning visits when you haven't brewed anything else than your own cup of chai, you usually keep a thermos jug adequately filled throughout the day. Ready for those who order filter coffee to-go, much like him.

You hum as you move up and down the space behind the counter.

Fetching a plastic cup, its corresponding lid and a wrapped-up straw further down the right. Moving to the left to start the process of brewing two shots of espresso in the barista machine, its grinding and high-pitched sound filling the air. Moving back the opposite way to grab a bottle of caramel to coat the cup's inside and milk to fill it three-fourths full.

"With or without whipped cream?" You throw the question over your shoulder as you assemble the drink.

Jack remains silent for a moment, pondering you guess, before he answers, "Without."

With that, you simply move on to put the lid on and place the two beverages into their respective slots on the carton tray you brought in the mids of everything. Not forgetting to nestle the straw between the cups.

When you turn, you find Jack eyeing the showcase window.

"The infamous pastries?" He directs the somewhat rhetorical question to the pastries with a nod once he notices you're heading his way.

"Indeed they are," you respond, placing the coffee tray between you and Jack, eyes trailing to the same place.

"None of them look like your drawings." Your gaze flickers back, meeting his hazel one already set on you.

You didn't think he would remember, but a smile unfolds when you realise he did. "Those are the new ones I'm working on for the summer drop."

"Summer drop? You do collections for pastries now?" You chuckle at the look he sends you, something akin to deadpan at the idea of treating food like designer clothes while also entertained at the idea.

"Yes, we do. And it's not a new concept, I'll have you know," you defend with a short laugh.

You motion to the pastries on display closest to you when you continue.

"While we got some all year around, those four are the spring-inspired ones." You sweep your index above the ones you're talking about. "What I showed you last week is what we're planning to replace them with during summer."

Jack notices the blend of pride and excitement. They merge to put a spark in your eyes and teeth to flash with how broad your smile stretches.

"Which one is your favourite?" Jack begins but then adds, "And don't say all of them."

You chuckle before switching to scrutinise the collection as if you haven't seen them for three months straight.

"I like the Mille Feuille; it's the one with raspberries and vanilla custard."

The pronunciation is perfect, Jack notes, following your finger that taps the glass above the three-level pastry. It's intricate in his eyes. A meticulous pattern alternating red and white between the layers of what looks like thin puff pastry circles.

"But, I reckon you would like this one." You move your finger to hover over a square, white pastry that's got violet flowers and some blueberries on top of it. "It's a take on the Chantilly cake, but we've decided to only use blueberries and infuse the cream frosting with almond flavour."

"Why would I like that one?" He challenges, eyes moving back to you. He gets a haunch of what your answer will be when your smile edges towards cheeky.

"Because it will balance that bitter coffee of yours like a dream." A wink follows your remark.

Jack chuckles, the sound escaping through his nose, both at your answer and the fact that you don't know how remarkably smooth your coffee is compared to others he's tasted.

"Why the assessment?" He cocks his chin, crossing his arms.

Despite being phrased similarly to how he makes his residents argue a case, he encourages you to explain something it's visible you're passionate about.

"The sweetness from the cream, the nuttiness from the almonds and the slightly tart flavour of blueberries go well together with the tones in your coffee." You point between him and the pastry before you cock your head, eyes following the same path. You hesitate a second, but then you move.

Jack watches as you swiftly get a flat, white box only to fold it and package the pastry you'd pointed out to him. Before you bend to get a large paper bag from beneath the counter, you also grab a smaller one and grab the chocolate danish he'd gotten last week.

Expertly, you fit them into the larger paper bag, one on top of the other.

He cocks his head, eyes falling to the handles you now offer him and then back to you. "Thought my free pass was only for the coffee?"

"It's for that morning crash," your smile softens as you tilt your head.

"And why do I get two?"

"Against the odds that you don't like it, you'll have something I know you do."

His mouth twitches. "Confident much?"

"Oh, I am, but I also prepare for the worst-case scenarios of picky customers."

Jack sways on his feet, gaze sweeping over you where you stand, stretching the bag fort for him to take.

Although his mind simply lingers on how different your worst-case scenario is from his definition, you apparently take his silence for hesitance. He notices the dampening in your eyes as if someone put a lid over a candle to conceal its burning stem.

"Just… consider it something to look forward to." There's a nervous edge to your words. It snaps Jack out of his head as he lets his arms unfold and accepts the bag.

"I will." He nods, and just to be sure you don't think he overlooks your thoughtfulness, "And I'll return with a review."

That makes whatever stiffness that had entered the edges of your mouth melt away.

"No sugarcoating," you say as if you don't already know Jack would be honest.

His lips tug into a smile in response. "Won't get any from me."

A brief silence settles as you watch him slide the tray with drinks closer, balancing them into the air until he supports them against his upper stomach.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

He looks at you as he returns, "You work late again?"

"Yes, the whole week." Jack lingers before he nods.

"See you." He pushes backwards, hands full of coffee and pastries, leaving you with a smile that remains until closing.

Much like Alice had said she would, she demanded free drinks from now on.

You don't know how she figured out Jack visited before you told her. She'd simply done a double-look, eyes narrowing before she broke into a victorious grin after you'd greeted her upon arrival the next morning.

You'd managed to negotiate that they'd be free for a month. She'd happily agreed on the condition you would update continuously about Jack, no matter how big or small.

And, apparently, she would get her update. Because, much like Jack had said, he did come back on Tuesday evening.

There were more people out and about tonight, presumably because the weather finally turned warm enough to walk without a jacket, even in the evenings. The influx of orders, mostly cold brews and iced teas, was so great that you asked your other colleague if it was okay to stay with you until closing.

"You're popular," Jack greets you when he steps up to the counter as the last person in the momentary queue. You chuckle, glancing around the café before your eyes fall on him again.

"Good weather and summer break getting closer has that effect." He raises his brows in agreement.

"Shen wants me to send you his regards," he continues the conversation by forwarding the message. "Said it even beat his usual one, so he'll probably stop by himself again someday.

"Well, thank him from me".

Jack hums with a nod, then says, "Had that pastry before my shift yesterday, wanted to give it a fair shot instead of sitting in the fridge too long."

Your brows jump in anticipation, an expectant smile forming. "And?"

"You're good at your job; I didn't have the chocolate one until the end of my shift."

Your chest swells, your smile remaining even though your teeth dig into your cheek. The way Jack's voice had dropped as he spoke slower, his gaze locked with yours throughout… it made something warm bloom right along the pride upon Jack's compliment.

You're almost happy when you catch someone stepping up behind him. Because, for the first time, your words fail you, unable to offer anything more than an appreciative smile. One you hope doesn't reveal the flutter in your stomach that even you can't pinpoint the cause of.

Jack nods a temporary goodbye after he glances behind him, having sensed the added presence.

You spare a second to follow him as he wanders to where a little group of people are gathered. He stops at the outskirts of it, closer to the place where staff enters behind the barista counter than where the countertop curves and a little sign says 'Pick up'.

Due to the busy day and evening, you hadn't managed to refill the pitcher for filter coffee. You find a moment to inform Jack after taking the order from the new customer and before continuing to work with your colleague to reduce the number of people waiting. He'd seemingly accounted for it, as he didn't seem fussed.

Since he'd become a regular, you'd gotten used to spending those five minutes waiting for the coffee with Jack. Although tonight, the only attention you could spare him was glances between other customers. Sharing a smile if he caught your gaze straying to him.

People continued to trickle in, and you knew you wouldn't be able to talk to Jack after delivering his coffee. Perhaps that was the reason you added something more than just his name on his to-go cup.

Good luck on the shift.

It wasn't much, but it was something since you couldn't properly say goodbye to him.

When you deliver his coffee, you unceremoniously lean over the counter where glasses and utensils are gathered rather than call his name like the rest.

Jack grabs the to-go cup from your hands. He offers a 'Thank you' that feels more like he exaggeratedly mouths the words for your benefit. The café filled with a constant but noisy buzz despite being thirty minutes until closing.

In return, you send him a smile and a slight nod to show you caught his words before you're on your way.

You don't have the time to see if he notices your message. Nor how Jack's eyes trail after you as you hurry along to continue working, missing the note entirely.

Jack watches you in your element, moving between the cash register, showcase window and brewing station. The ease with which you speak to customers and your comfortable nature in the setting are infectious. It drops his shoulders lower than they were before.

The nights before a shift were always calm. Fewer people were in motion, a majority already home at this hour. But after the visits to the café, Jack felt more peaceful than he usually did, comfortably sipping the coffee as he unconsciously shifted the cup in his hand.

He pushes through the doors into the ER. Weaving through the waiting room before he reaches the Pitt, finding Robby by the nurse station and with a tablet in hand.

The day-shift attending turns his head as Jack stops beside him, instinctively inspecting the patient board.

"You leave us with a mess for once."

"Great to see you too," Robby greets him in return, his eyes dropping as he takes notice of the coffee cup Jack arrives with. Similar to the one from yesterday. Apart from a black row of letters that catches his attention.

Robby tilts his head, eyes narrowing to confirm whether he'd thought he saw was correct. He chuckled lowly once he realised it was.

"Have they started with personalisations now?"

Jack's eyes divert to Robby, question visible in his eyes. With a simple nod towards the cup, his head cocks and eyes follow those of the older attending.

Inspecting the cup, Jack only sees the words left on the backside when he turns it around.

He stares, blinks, slowly inhaling as he nods once. "Apparently."

Jack's expression remains unchanged even if his insides don't.

Something had flipped in his stomach and is currently still vibrating. It's awfully comparable to when he has coffee on an empty stomach. But this feeling isn't quelled when he tries to force it steady. If anything, it reaches his chest.

Robby eyes him, nodding slowly. An uhu sounds out loud before he speaks. "That's my only explanation?"

"Nothing to explain." And yet, Jack permanently changes the grip on his cup to keep the message towards his chest.

"I'm not going to argue with you after today," Robby concludes the conversation, not without something akin to amusement lacing the words.

Although Jack didn't notice your first message, and you didn't get to see his reaction to it, both of those things change as the week goes on.

For some reason, you decide to continue with the insignificant messages, even though you have the opportunity to engage in brief conversations with Jack. And since Robby pointed out the first note, Jack's much more attentive to the possibility it could happen again.

The first time he brings attention to it in your presence is as soon as the day after the first, on Wednesday evening.

You'd sent Jack a questioning look when he'd rotated the mug on the tabletop rather than take his cup and be on his way.

Simultaneously as he'd looked back up at you, he picked the to-go cup up and showed you the note you knew you'd written but didn't expect to be faced with. You'd ducked your head with a sheepish chuckle to escape his gaze as Jack reciprocated your written 'Have a good night' with a spoken 'You too.'

And it continues.

Either, he wishes you something similar to what you wrote on the cup verbally. When it's busier, he offers a smile, lifting two fingers from the to-go bag with a chocolate danish, which you also send along now, to show he'd noticed.

During the week, Alice remarks that Jack still hasn't stopped by in the morning. 'Apparently, he prefers evenings now', she'd mused as her smugness only grew. Enough so she doesn't even have to say something; simply send you a knowing look and smile for her thoughts to be conveyed.

That's without you telling her about the notes you leave for him.

And that very smile is what greets you when you turn your head sideways after feeling a hand on your back. "I can take over that."

She wasn't originally scheduled to work the closing shift with you this Friday, but she called about a last-minute schedule change yesterday. Professors think I don't have a life outside of school.

You'd entertained the idea that she'd made it up. However, the girl took school seriously, so you dismissed the idea and changed her times with someone else's relatively easy.

"Oh, it's fine." You dismiss her with a smile. In return, her brows arch pointedly, hinting at something you don't understand until she speaks.

"Mr hot Doctor is here."

She'd lowered her voice enough for only you to hear. Still, it's enough for your heart to lurch and eyebrows to shoot up at what she'd called Jack.

Her brown eyes twinkle at your reaction as she continues with faux disappointment, "You also failed to mention he's a hot older doctor."

She doesn't leave you any time to string together a comeback before she grabs the trays from your hands. As you stare after Alice, she turns around, sending you a look and a discreet nod sideways just before swiftly disappearing into the back.

Right as she was, when you turn around, Jack's slowing to a stop at the opposite end of the counter.

You barely have enough time to school your expression. But from how he cocks his head, you know you weren't fast enough.

"What was that about?" He asks once you move to stand in front of him, skipping the greeting altogether as his eyes shift sideways, acknowledging the interaction you just had.

"Oh, it's nothing." Your reply is reactionary, and you see that Jack isn't convinced. His eyes narrow a fraction, chin notching just a bit higher.

You exhale, trying to dampen the quiver right between your clavicles, probably due to the excessive caffeine from the energy drinks Alice had shared with you.

"Girl emergency," you lie, waving your hand dismissively towards the door to the right. Over your dead body you would recite Alice's word to his face.

Jack eyes you, his hazel gaze unwavering as it sweeps across your face. If you weren't already used to his stare, you would've shrunk beneath it. You don't, but you're unable to control the way your heartbeat quickens.

In the end, he nods, not questioning it.

"I haven't seen her before. Is she new?"

"Alice?" You hum, following it with a headshake. "She's been here for as long as me. Her schedule is just a bit more sporadic since she studies at CMU."

"How does your schedule look like, in comparison?"

Your brows shoot upwards as you can't stop the disbelieving smile at Jack's question. "Curious, are we?"

"Said it yourself, you've spoiled me with good coffee."

You purse your lips, beating down your smile as Alice's words ring in your head. None of us have seen him. He only stops by when you work. And just like that, your mind fixates on the you in his sentence.

"Majority of the time, I work on a bi-weekly rotating schedule. One week opening, one week closing." You explain. "But you know how it is. Sometimes, you have to cover for others and stuff."

"Know it too well," he agrees before he asks with a nod towards you, "How come the morning shifts the past weeks, then?"

"During the planning phase of the new pastries, I take the morning shifts to discuss the ideas with the professionals." You nod backwards, motioning to the bakery in the back, taking for granted Jack understands since that one conversation you had about your pastry-making skills. "You just so happened to find us during one of those four times a year."

"Glad I timed my visits with the best coffee maker in town." His gaze is intense. It always is. But how his eyes refuse to look anywhere but yours right now fades your surroundings, drowns other people's voices.

"Can't accept you torturing yourself with hospital coffee," you return, way softer than the quip you'd imagined it as.

A smile bows Jack's lips upwards. You mirror his expression before taking a step backwards, turning to pour his coffee with a last look sent to him.

You continue to feel his eyes on you even with your back turned.

You'd caught him watching you work enough times the previous weeks to know it wasn't your imagination. While there certainly were customers whose lingering attention unsettled you, Jack's never had. Why you couldn't answer. But, it always felt respectable, something easy to grow used to. Comfortable.

What wasn't usual, nor something you were used to, was the way you smiled down at his name on the cup and the idea entering your mind. It was a silent whisper, one you had never had before. All the same, you entertained it.

You catch your lower lip between your teeth and shift the grip on the Sharpie repeatedly.

Fuck it.

You turn the paper cup around, swiftly scribbling a message not too different from the ones you'd done the previous days.

There's a vibration in your body as you turn back towards Jack.

You strategically turn the now-filled coffee mug so he's faced with his name and not the back of it. Something inside you not being able to stomach his reaction to what you'd written.

"Good luck on the shift," you offer in goodbye, rolling the pen between your fingers, your other arm hugging your stomach.

"Thanks," he replies, grabbing the cup and the small paper bag. "You too, with what's left."

Your lips press against one another, but it doesn't stop your smile from breaking through. "Thank you."

Jack holds your gaze, intrigued by your fidgeting and something he cannot place but all the same shines in your eyes. He does it until he nods, receiving a soft downward tilt of your head in return before he starts the few blocks walk back to the hospital.

It- you occupy Jack's thoughts even after he leaves the coffee shop.

Much like the whole week, you linger just a slip of his focus away. A slip that turned into a tumble whenever he glanced at the cup he kept along with some of his other things by the nurse station throughout his shift.

The reminiscing reminds him to look down at the cup currently in his hands. Your previous behaviour lingered longer than he thought as he considered whether exhaustion was catching up to you. After all, you'd mentioned the influx of people now when summer was getting closer.

He spins and angles his to-go mug, just like every other day. Yet, unlike every other time he'd done it, he stops dead in his tracks, right in the middle of the parking lot to the hospital.

Jack stares at the message, blinks, furrows his brows and drops the cup a bit lower without threatening to spill the coffee in the process. But the note didn't change; his eyes hadn't failed him.

Just like that, he connects the dots of your behaviour.

Jack knows he isn't stationary for more than a minute, but time slows. He feels it as he disconnects from his surroundings yet remains hyper-aware. He catches voices from the ER's opening, simultaneously how the blood rushes in his ears.

The feeling remains even if he turns the mug around, covering the message with his thumb and heads into the Pitt.

He'd aimed to go directly to his locker and leave his backpack and paper bag. Probably stare at the coffee mug while he decided whether he should leave it there as well, even if he hadn't finished the coffee.

But he doesn't come that far, running into Robby the moment he enters. Unable to escape the attending's eyes, which shifted from the computer screen to him.

"What's today's fortune cookie saying?" Robby raises his brows, motioning towards the cup before his gaze moves back to the screen. There are not many people in the immediate circle of him and the other attending. Nevertheless, Jack's fingers tighten around the hardened paper.

The drink is still warm enough to be felt through the protective paper wall, but that's not what burns him.

Ever since Robby caught the scribbled message and pastry bag he'd started to arrive with, he'd greeted him like that. An insinuating glance, accompanied by an inquisitive question.

"Have to get one yourself to know." Robby simply chuckles at the reply.

Jack watches as the older attending sends him a sideways look before he shakes his head. If he didn't keep his attention on Robby, his gaze would drop to your note, and he would continue staring at it, just like he'd done the first time.

It is not the message in your handwriting.

If you're unsure of my schedule.

It is the number written beneath.

"Might have to," Robby mutters.

"They got something you would like." Jack continues. Otherwise, he would remain silent and stare at nothing in particular. Unable not to, given how the combination of numbers is branded across his frontal lobe, mockingly tantalising to get lost looking at. "Vanilla chai latte."

"Vanilla, what?" Robby looks at him, head turned fully now. "I thought I had the med-students during the day-shifts?"

"And I have Dr. Shen." Robby huffs out a laugh, returning to watch the screen as he finished up what was needed for the written hand-over. "It's barely any sweeter than what you already drink."

Jack earns a quick glance over the edge of Robby's glasses as his answer begins as a hum. As his eyes find the screen again, "I'll try it when I have time."

Jack nods, taking a sip from the coffee as Robby moves forward in the direction of the locker room. When he notices he does so alone, he stalls.

"You coming?"

"Have a few things I need to look at." Jack excuses himself, moving to the computer closest to him. It wasn't a lie; he wanted to check the status of the veteran who'd arrived critical a few days ago.

Even so, Robby's brows pulled together, not pushing but not hiding his amused scepticism. "Alright."

Jack does check the status of his previous patient.

What he also does is add your number to his phone, locking it with an unnecessarily hard press on the off button once it's done. He also finishes his coffee while it still stings his tongue, throwing the cup into one of the janitors' rolling carts as they pass, only escaping the scoff at his action through a short exchange of words.

All because he didn't fancy Robby's humoured expression and commentary following suit if he saw your number.

Those ten numbers are never far away during his sift, Jack realises.

It never strays his attention during traumas rolling in. Neither for him to miss his name being called when the unfortunate patient crashes. But when Jack comes up for air for a few seconds in between cases, it's you and the number you gave him that passes his thought. The air practically burning when he gets even remotely close to his phone during his shift.

He's had opportunities to send you a message. Give you his number in return. It was the polite thing to do. But each time, he'd pushed it forward. Pondered too long on how to answer until a patient rolled in through the ambulance bay.

Half-way through his shift, he finally sends something.

/Jack─

His fingers hover over the keys, then he adds.

The Doctor─

He gets called away before the message barely has been delivered.

Returning hours later, at the end of his shift, Jack grabs his phone, instantly noticing your name as the only notification adorning the screen. The topmost alert indicates that you reacted with a heart to his first message.

He pockets his phone, deciding to read the rest by the lockers.

─Could have guessed

─You're the only doctor besides my G.P who has my number

Jack huffs, amused when he finally reads your message. Seeing how the timestamp reads 10 PM, he realised you must have sent your messages after you ended you'd closed the café. Possibly before you went to bed. Now, it's nearing the usual time he stops by the coffee shop. But, since it's Saturday, he's unsure if you work.

Are you at work?─

Your reply brushes on the verge of instant.

─Good that I gave you my number. Otherwise, you would've needed to come here to know

─But yes, I'm already brewing your coffee

He doesn't answer, deciding instead to grab his stuff and head to the coffee shop.

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