#LIVING with mistakes or even just perceived mistakes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satorhime · 1 year

Text

on the ground ˚₊· gojo satoru + nanami kento. ── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : : f!reader, explicit smut, threesome + cuckholding, reader n gojo r in an established relationship, public foreplay (on an empty train), oral sex (m + f receiving), face sitting, spanking, degradation, teasing, praise, fingering, handjobs, double penetration (sort of), unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, cum play, squirting, snowballing, messy nasty smut w / lots of pet names lol ･｡･ w.c. 15.6k.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis & notes : nanami is awarded his apology, and more. part two of off the table, but can be read as a standalone. + ໒꒰ྀི ⸝⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ྀིა ⊹ omg omg i finally, FINALLY completed this fic. i struggled a lot with the direction i wanted this story to go in, but i'm finally satisfied and can share it with everyone. i hope you enjoy it & expect errors because it's an absolute chunk of words. thank u 2 @fushisslut for beta reading <333

nanami kento is out of his mind.

you see, he must be. that’s the only reasonable explanation for his behavior tonight. when people perceive him, they see him as a stable man with a level head on his shoulders. they take in the pristine cut of his designer suits, the glimmer of his luxury wristwatch, and they can’t help but see the prime example of a professional jujutsu sorcerer. his technique isn’t a lightshow to impress others, but consists of preordained, calculated mathematics for him to achieve the best results in a fight. even the higher ups trust him more because they’re soothed by his polite speech, strategic outlook, and solid reliability— because he can be summed up into one safe, khaki-colored box that will never pose a threat to their way of order, even if he disagrees with it.

normal. standard. boring.

but every sorcerer has a flaw, a trigger nestled deep inside of them just waiting to spring them into insanity. it can be anything, really— a fight with a formidable opponent or your favorite coffee shop getting your morning order wrong on a bad day. nanami’s own flaw is a crack in the perfect design of his foundation that can be exploited way too easily if you know where to look for it.

and gojo satoru knows the exact location.

while nanami has tried his best to ignore the tension crackling like a steady current between you and him, satoru sees everything. his crush on you is obvious though. written all over his handsome expression when you simply smile at him or your shoulders brush in a crowded meeting room and nanami makes the mistake of looking down to snap at you to give him space, only to be enraptured by the sight of your pretty face and lower, the print of your cute little nipples pressing through the thinner fabric of your tight sorcerer’s uniform. his ears pinkening up like strawberry syrup swirled on top of milk.

the fact that he jolts awake almost every night from wet dreams about you, cock dripping wet in his briefs can’t be written on his face, but it happens. making him feel adolescent, green as fresh grass, when he has to slip a hand into his underwear and fuck against his dry palm with your name whispered desperately on his tongue until he cums, messy and full of shame, all over his belly.

nanami kento’s weakness is a woman off limits.

perhaps gojo should feel possessive and territorial that another man has such blatant feelings for his pretty girlfriend, but gojo feeds it like cupid with a heart-shaped arrow. only feeling like a winner in the long game he plays. and tonight, well, tonight is living proof of that.

right now, you’re strolling ahead of nanami with gojo’s long arm thrown lazily around your shoulders. the three of you are heading leisurely towards the train station, as if you’re like everyone else out on a weekend night— casual colleagues walking home together after a boring company outing.

the city at this hour is alive, a kaleidoscope of movement and bright, twinkling energy. usually, nanami would enjoy a walk like this under the starlit night, tilt his head up and inhale the fresh breeze as he walks the long way home to unwind after a long shift but he just can’t, not tonight. not when he’s strung out and so fucking hyperfocused on your every move. not when the noise from the neon billboards flash loud advertisements, bustling shopfronts, and drunken giggles from twenty-somethings stumbling out of upscale bars washes away all rational thought from nanami’s skull until all he can think about is you.

it’s humiliating. his self-control over his own actions is usually adamant, an indomitable shell around his being that should have kept him from giving in to his desire to fuck all traces of gojo satoru from your body, but how can he really resist it? he should have known better than to get up from that table and follow the two of you home, but it’s too late to turn back now. especially when the colorful streetlights illuminate your frame to him, the late night breeze stirring the flowy hem of your expensive little cocktail dress— giving him a flash of the supple swell of your naked ass cheeks, panties still tucked away in gojo’s pocket.

gritting his teeth, nanami tries to look away but he’s locked in. picking up on the slight limp in your walk instead— no doubt from the rough way gojo fingerfucked you under the table earlier. the memory of desperate tears glazing over your big doe eyes as you pleaded for them both, begging nanami to give you permission to cum, twists a serrated knife into the mass of hot arousal already simmering in the pit of his gut.

you’ve got him entranced, just like that, staring at the soft jiggle of your ass until gojo notices and kisses his teeth, smoothing the hem of your dress down in mock chivalry as he glances back at nanami with a bright sparkle in his quicksilver blue eyes, blackout sunglasses slid low on his pretty nose and grinning with those fanged incisors gleaming in the moonlight like a predator.

god, nanami hates the way his mouth runs dry at that look.

“it’s just like old times, eh?”

gojo leers out as soon as the three of you pile onto the train. his crude vocals are too loud, slashing through the quiet to bounce against the big metal walls. blinding fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting an eerie green glow.

“i don’t know what you’re referring to, gojo-san,” nanami lies breezily, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate the headache forming behind his brow at the teasing sound of gojo’s voice. “if you could please be quiet now.”

oh, but nanami knows exactly what the other man is referring to, doesn’t he? the unique moments in life when gojo satoru and nanami kento operated on the same wavelength. younger days before nanami left for university abroad at copenhagen, drunken nights in the dorm at jujutsu high after tough missions. dares and childish games that led to beer-flavored spit swapped between giggling peers. a lost bet. nanami never backing down from a challenge. suguru dutifully filming with a cracked flip phone as gojo mouthed down the length of nanami’s cock—

he was a madman for playing gojo satoru’s games then, and he definitely is one now.

“what’s like old times?” you pipe up with a question, breaking through nanami’s thoughts. your head bobbles between the two men rudely leaving you out of the conversation, confusion wrinkling your pretty features. “what are you two whispering about?”

nanami grits his jaw, refusing to elaborate, but gojo huffs out the beginning of a chuckle and parts his lips to answer you. be it for dick, pussy, or spilling secrets better left buried, he can never keep his mouth shut, can he?

“mmm, nothing you need to worry that pretty head about tonight, angel,” he shrugs, a lazy smirk settling on his pink lips. the threads of patronization laced through his words makes you even more curious, though. “we’re just reminiscing.”

his long arm curves around your neck after that, tugging you towards him. bending his head down to press his nose against your hair affectionately, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in a gentle kiss obviously meant to disarm your questions.

and of course, it doesn’t work.

“oh, i see,” you nod, like you’ve cracked the code. eyes fluttering down into narrowed slits at the both of them. “you two shared many women before like this, have you? is that what you’re talking about?”

it doesn’t sound like an accusation. after all, you know how experienced your boyfriend’s appetite is, but the words come out a little more bitter than you intend. satoru quirks a snowy brow, still gleaming his signature grin. how would you react if you knew their truth, their history?

“we have not,” that was kento, finally speaking up to clarify when it’s his reputation on the line, earnestly hoping that you’ll drop the subject.

“but we’ve shared each other,” and that was satoru, cupping his hand to your ear like he’s spilling a juicy little scandal.

“o-oh-”

whatever answer you expected, it wasn’t that.

your mouth opens to ask another question, but a safety recording cuts the conversation short before the train lurches forward, speeding out of the station. soon, you’re out in the city— skyscrapers and bright lights blurring past the windows at breakneck speed.

gojo’s cue now that you’re temporarily sealed away from civilization.

he leans against a pole, smirking against your hair. his hand caresses a path down your front slowly, and you momentarily forget how to breathe, sucking in your tummy because it’s starting again— his nasty fucking game.

and for the first time, there is a third player.

“remember the last time you tired putting your hand up my skirt on a train, gojo satoru?” you remind him as his hand begins to slither into the cleavage of your dress, disappearing under the fabric to shamelessly cup one of your breasts, giving it a gentle knead and making you bite down on a gasp. “not to mention, there’s cctv right there-”

“how was i supposed to know there was an officer right across from us?”

“you literally have the six eyes, satoru.”

“shut up.” he huffs. “what are you so worried for anyway? we’re alone, and that guy won’t tell anyone what we’ve been up to. he wants you just as much as i do, right nanamin?”

“i was under the impression you invited me back to your home, not to get arrested,” nanami retorts dryly, but his tone is a complete contradiction to the look in his honey brown eyes. he is staring across the train car at you with so much open lust, his intensive gaze simmers heat all the way underneath the surface of your skin, making you squirm even more. it’s that look in his eyes alone, like he wants to ruin you for your own boyfriend, that makes each move of gojo’s a little more than proprietorial. a farewell to his darling baby before he auctions you up for the taking.

only, he surely intends on taking you back at the end of the night because you belong to him. but only after he checks off a certain box— after he burns the vision of you getting fucked on another man’s cock while he watches into his temporal lobe.

“i’m not worried about nanami-san,” you frown, rolling your eyes, “i’m worried about the cctv.”

“i’ll handle it,” he promises, his voice dark and low. he kisses your ear with a whisper that sends a hot shudder down the curve of your spine. “why don’t you go and greet nanami properly while i do, sweet girl? he’s over there all by himself.”

your head whips around, eyes wide at his suggestion. nothing can really surprise you about the six-foot-three smirking egomaniac you’re dating at this point. that limp in your walk, the cooling slick still coating your sticky thighs from your last orgasm, and your missing pair of ruined panties are a testament to his want to fuck you in every location, in every way possible. to etch his mark into the world that stands at his feet, one drop of cum at a time.

even if it means offering you up to nanami kento like a sacrificial lamb plump and ready for the slaughter.

and you? you’re perfectly fine with being a sacred contribution left at his alter.

“or are you scared?” gojo wonders, glancing over at the other man.

it’s not just a meaningless taunt. both you, and nanami can hear the weight behind the question. it’s a chance to back out. a consent form. he may be a greedy, overpowered sorcerer with an insatiable love for dirty fucking but he respects nanami, and he respects you above all else. you’re the love of his life, a little piece of his soul living outside of his body, and he knows how many steps he can take outside of the box before he runs into boundaries. and though you never back down from one of his challenges, though your mind is honey coated in lust, you lift your gaze to the ex-salaryman and you consider him, one final time.

anyone with a pair of eyes can appreciate the beauty in nanami kento. he is all sharp contours and deep tenor. timeless handsomeness that reminds you of an old money heartthrob from the sixties, or a classic comic book hero. nanami may be the complete opposite of your boyfriend, austere and jaded, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to him, that you did not enjoy the steadiness of conversations with him and the few, ill-delivered dry jokes he indulges in from time to time. perhaps it was the throb in your clit convincing you, or the memory of him demanding you be a good girl and cum for them both back at the restaurant, but god, you fucking wanted him.

no, you wanted them both, and you would deal with your shame for it in the daylight hours.

“don’t you know me at all, gojo satoru?” you finally break the silence with a confident smile, making gojo snort at you before he shoves you off the deep end— hands on your shoulders to nudge you into stepping across the train car until you stop in front of nanami.

he is the only one sitting down, watching you approach with that stoic expression of his. at first glance, he looks utterly unimpressed, but you should have known better as your legs bump his spread knees and you glance down, getting a glimpse of the outline of his hard cock bulging against the tight inseam of his khaki slacks.

your breath shortens into a needy pant. wondering what it would feel like weighing your tongue down after you’ve wriggled him out of that boring designer suit of his? or how much it would make your hips ache as it stretched your cunt out until you soak gojo’s expensive sheets down to the last thread?

warmth blooms over the skin of your cheeks as his sharp eyes follow your line of sight. he quirks an amused brow, catching your shameless stare locked on his lap. he barely shifts under the attention, no slouch in the posture he holds with an easy confidence. “didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare at a cock you don’t plan to sit on, young lady?”

“who says i don’t plan to sit on it, nanami-san?” you mouth off, even as your knees weaken under the weight of his authoritative tone. you hear gojo scoff in amusement, still leaning against that pole, arms still folded as he watches the scene unfold— playing out just how he wants it.

“you’re still standing, obviously,” he points out, and how he makes such simple words sound like honey spread over velvet you don’t know, but the deep, flat timbre of his monotone flutters a lick of arousal through your belly.

“do you want me to?”

“come here and sit, back facing to me,” he instructs, gesturing to his lap. he doesn’t even think about putting his hands on you, no matter how desperately he wants to, letting you build up the courage to obey someone new. instead, he unfastens the buttons on his blazer slow, one by one, before removing his goggles and tucking them away into an inner breast pocket. sandy hair tinted slightly green under the lighting in the train as he waits for you. it isn’t easy for him to fight the more reckless part of himself when you’re standing there, staring at him like this, and he’ll be ashamed tomorrow to say that he didn’t even try. “well?”

behind you, gojo wears a dangerous smirk. temple of his skull resting against the cold steel of the balance pole, content to watch his girlfriend climb into the lap of another man. you’re thankful that the subway car the three of you are in is deserted. you had kept your head down when satoru shamelessly flicked his wrist at the mechanical sliding doors as other passengers tried to board, slamming it shut in their confused faces and twisting the metal into a makeshift lock with cursed energy so that no one else is around to witness what you’re doing.

you settle until your back meets nanami’s firm chest, your heart beating erratically. the sorcerer’s muscled arm feels warm through the sleeves of his tailored jacket as he wraps it around your torso, pulling you securely against him. embarrassment makes you shy as you realize that you’re sitting on your coworker’s lap with no panties on underneath your dress, his wide stance forcing your thighs to spread— rucking your dress up past your hips and exposing your pretty pussy to gojo’s twinkling gaze.

“the cctv-”

gojo nods, and you whimper softly as he shifts to stand a little taller, smartly placing his massive stature in front of the camera embedded in the beam above your heads. “that’s that,” he claps, then he lifts a brow, “oi, oi. you gonna take all night? our stop is next.”

“not everyone is quick as you, gojo-san,” nanami snorts at his own little joke before he dips his head, pressing his nose to your pulse point. his eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he breathes in a gust of your perfume. scented like ruination, supple like forbidden fruit laid over his lap— he can’t resist pressing his lips to your neck first, his veined hand cupping your face, thick fingers curled under your chin to guide your head in his direction afterwards. “she deserves my patience.”

“tch.” gojo rolls his eyes.

nanami has always been a quiet man. he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and barely then, refusing to make idle small talk and declining offers to mingle after work with his colleagues, but you know what he wants without words. your own fingers move, brushing over the buzzed wisps of hair at the nape of his neck as he parts his lips. tender in the way he finally tastes you, in the way he suckles your plump lower lip into his mouth.

you’re unfamiliar, but your kiss feels decadent to him and already, he’s determined to learn you. how many times had he lost focus in a meeting, wondering how you would feel on his lips, his tongue, his cock? the blond sorcerer presses his thumb against the middle of your cheek, keeping your jaw parted so that he can pet his tongue over yours until you gasp desperately into his mouth.

the kiss is slower than what you’re used to, but nanami gives you passion, even though he’s a stranger to your body— a scene that your boyfriend watches with hungry, almost envious eyes. you can feel the burn of his stare from across the metal car. seeing you writhe all over his kouhai’s lap, twisting your fingers in his short hair, sucking his lower lip into your mouth, makes hot need churn in the pit of gojo’s gut to take his place.

he’s supposed to be blocking the cctv, but he can’t help it. before he knows it, he’s crossing the space of the train in a few strides, taking a seat next to you and nanami.

you jolt when you feel the familiar weight of satoru’s big hand splay out over your thigh. heart beating erratically. saliva coating your lips and you whine because you’re desperate for more, but you don’t have to wait long.

“my turn, sugar,” satoru grins, tucking a finger under your chin to pull your head away from nanami and towards him.

you go to him easily, no care at all that the security cameras are watching you bounce between the two men and their touches. letting your boyfriend smooth your hair away from your face before he cups your cheeks, sparks dancing down your spine as he kisses you insistently, urging you immediately into a hungrier slide of your lips against his own.

“oh,” you sigh, and satoru shushes you with his wet tongue between your lips. he loves tonguing you down, leaving you breathless with the hunger he feels for you. sweetness of the dinner wine he spit into your mouth earlier lingers in the kisses he gives you.

it’s easy to get lost in him, to bathe in the attention when someone like gojo satoru is willing to give it to you. you’re so lost in his kiss that you almost miss the sound of nanami’s sudden, muted groan; a needy throb pulsing between the seam of your cunt as you realize you’ve been squirming over his lap without meaning to, the hard weight of his clothed cock pressing snug between your bare ass cheeks, the tip rubbing against your clit.

“this isn’t the place for that. be still.”

“but i want to.”

nanami grunts in the back of his throat as you ignore him, plush hips swiveling down, grinding against the sensitive head of his cock beneath his khakis, his rough fingers squeezing your thigh desperately in reprimand.

“can’t handle her already, nanami?” gojo taunts in a drawl, redirecting his kisses down your neck affectionately so that nanami can claim your lips again. they’re swollen, bitten by kisses, strawberry rouge smudged and ruined as they build a routine, taking turns sharing your kiss, stealing the breath out of your lungs to draw into their own.

you know that comparisons are against the natural rules of a threesome, but you can’t help yourself. they touch you so differently, vintage and brand new— opposites like the burning rays of the summer sun and the cool beams of the moon during winter, but their intensity is the same.

satoru... satoru kisses like a man out of time because love has a habit of being snatched out of his hands, and life is fleeting in the world you live in and he needs to show you just how much he feels for you before it’s too late. he’s impatient and a little forceful, digging prints into your skin, leaving marks and love bites that sting in the aftermath— so you’ll never forget him, he thinks. he’s not shy, never ashamed to touch you in the middle of a crowd because your taste is just that fucking sweet to him and he won’t waste a minute of time he has with you. you can always feel his desperation, the urgency to prove his devotion embedded into each, skilled kiss.

and then there’s kento, who kisses like he’s stopping to appreciate a masterpiece in a museum. there should not be so much reverence in his touch, not when you belong to someone else and he’s just an extra in your movie, the thrill of the hour for a sexually adventurous couple— but he is unhurried and thorough in the face of your greediness. feeding you by hand what he wants you to have. if you surge forward to take what you want, he counters and nips the tip of your nose in a bite that startles you, that makes you giggle, leaving you soft as putty in his grasp. and when he kisses you . . . when he kisses you it feels like he alone can stop the hand of the clock itself. as if he’s got all the time in the world, even though he is a man who only has the pleasure of your body for one night.

if he can survive a train ride with you, that is.

“stop moving.”

“pretty please, nanami-san. i need jus’ a little... jus’-” you plea, and despite his warning, you plant your heels on the edge of the train seat. leverage to grind your pussy over the weighty print of his cock. back and forth, choking on little whines against nanami’s lips while satoru kisses at your collarbone and stares between your thighs. it’s frustrating to have nanami sitting there under you with a barrier in the way, the friction a tantalizing itch that makes you want to dissolve into sobs. you can hardly find it in yourself to care that you’re wetting the fabric of his pristine clothes with the sticky arousal dripping out of your little hole as you angle your hips down, dragging your clit over the cool zipper of his pants.

“you want it that badly? you’ll writhe all over my cock, on a train no less, with your boyfriend sitting right next to you? you should be ashamed,” nanami tuts, reeling back to press his voice to your ear. “but there, there. i’ll give you something proper to rub on.”

“that’s not fair ‘cause you told me to sit, mmfgh-” you pout in petulant protest, nanami’s words causing your skin to blister under the heat of them, but satoru cuts you off once more by suckling your lower lip, grinning a little when you choke on a whine.

though the ex-salaryman’s tone burns a lick of shame down your arching back, one of his hands hitch up to your breasts to soothe the sting, squeezing the soft flesh through the fabric of your silky dress. and then, his other hand fondles your thigh and you inhale because he’s so fucking close— rough, calloused fingers slipping along the joint of your hip to brush over your mound.

“here it is,” he announces, pressing his wet mouth to your cheek, reveling in the whimper you give him as he pushes a stiff thumb against your clit, pressing it down hard. keening, your hips twitch forward eagerly. his finger doesn’t offer much friction, but you rut against the palm anyway until he draws his middle finger down, spreading your folds and swirling an unhurried circle around your entrance, causing your breath to fan out of your chest in a rush. “don’t be shy about it. rub against my finger and let satoru watch.”

satoru isn’t interested in just watching though.

he takes your hand and guides it to his clothed crotch first, a ruined moan punching out of his chest when you immediately wrap your fingers around the outline of his cock. it’s hard against your palm, and though the angle is awkward, you make due; rubbing your hand over him until his hips jerk up off the seat. as a reward, you feel satoru’s index finger join kento’s between your thighs, rubbing figure eights into your wet, puffy clit. you have to squirm helplessly between the two men playing with you like a pretty doll. delighted sounds leaving gojo’s lips as he mouths at your breast, flicking his tongue over your clothed nipple until the front of your dress is damp with spit.

all three of you know that this is going too far. that the two men are devouring you in the middle of an empty train car, and you need to stop this before the security camera records any more of your sins. but how can you, when gojo pinches your clit at the same time nanami dips the very tip of his finger inside you, a low groan rumbling from his throat at the way you greedily squeeze around the thick digit, wanting to suck him in further. he clenches his jaw, staving off a groan. knowing you’ll feel so fucking heavenly around his cock when he spades you on it—

but just as the both of them are about to give you what you want, push two long fingers into your needy cunt, rub soreness into your clit until you cry, the train screeches to a slow, metallic stop at the next station. you startle, eyes flying wide open in mild panic as the doors prepare to slide open.

“oh, well, i do believe this is our stop,” satoru says nonchalantly like he’s back to pulling the strings, like he wasn’t about to fucking cry at being interrupted when all he wants to do is make you cum again. whistling the melody to one of your favorite songs as he dips in to press one last kiss to your cheek before he stands up, stretching his arms overhead to pop stiff joints. “if you two are finished giving the security guard material to fuck himself with during his shift, let’s go.”

the air is thick with cloying tension, oppressive enough that you can hear the ragged breathing from both sorcerers. once you exit the train, you know what’s waiting for you. your belly lurches in delicious anticipation at the mere thought of it.

gojo satoru fucks like a god and that’s when he is alone. his competitive streak will have him trying to ruin you, not satisfied until you’re fucked out and bruised and crying, with another man sharing the field. and nanami... nanami kento is an enigma, a paradox you could have never pictured agreeing to share a woman for the night with someone he is seemingly annoyed by all day, all night.

but proper, orderly men like him have a tendency of harboring the darkest desires of them all, and you have a feeling discovering what they are tonight means having trouble getting out of bed the next morning with stiff thighs and an aching cunt.

“are you alright?” nanami murmurs, as cordial as ever. he barely seems affected at all, except for the unsteady hitch in his breathing— and, of course, the fact that his cock is dripping uncomfortably wet against the too-tight fabric of his briefs. his hand abandons you, sliding around to smooth your dress down before he sets you to your feet on the floor.

nodding, you step forward on shaky legs, and satoru stretches out his hand for you to take. but before you follow him this time, through the automated doors and onto the platform, you look back and offer a hand to the 7:3 sorcerer with a grin that nanami knows you had to have picked up from satoru.

“coming, nanami-san?” you repeat gojo’s words from earlier, offering yourself up to them both for the night.

nanami huffs out a snort, glancing down at his fingers in consideration. the thick digits still glisten with your glossy cum under the fluorescents, the knot in his throat bobbing with starvation. he feels insane for crossing a boundary and getting involved with gojo satoru again (and now... now, you) but he’s lost all fucking sense, all self control at this point. any other day, he would be too dignified to even bring a woman home after a date but tonight, he raises his fingers to his mouth to suckle them clean without ever taking his eyes off of you before he dries them on a handkerchief, ever the gentleman. god, he wants to weep at the taste of your pussy on his tongue, but he stands to his full height and curls those long digits around your waiting hand instead.

“after you.”

gojo’s penthouse in shinjuku is dark and chilly when the three of you walk inside. nanami doesn’t pay much attention to the living space as he trades loafers for guest slippers with pandas printed on the top at the door, but he feels out of place when he finally does glance around.

nanami never had any reason to think about gojo satoru’s living situation or interior decorating skills, but he’s surprised at how... human it looks.

to him, gojo is a curse. a curse that he respects, tolerates, and trusts, but a thorn in his side nonetheless. it is a childish thought, but he had expected to find the space to be as annoying as he is during the day. though it was obviously a bachelor pad meant for a man who never intended on settling down, there are signs of you all over it, turning it into a real home.

he passes by polaroids decorated with stickers and framed photos of you with his students at the beach in okinawa, presumably snapped by satoru himself. pastel pillows and plushies mismatch with the cool design of deep sea blue and sleek black furniture. he has to avert his eyes with a disbelieving scoff when you hurry past him to snatch one of your bras off the back of the couch, as if you and your freak of nature boyfriend didn’t invite him back here for one reason and one reason only.

“are you hungry, nanami-san?” you ask suddenly to shatter the ice, glancing around the apartment nervously. you’re trying, okay? how are you supposed to know how to start a threesome with your colleague? “i, uh- i know you didn’t get to finish your meal at the restaurant and i’m not the best cook, but oh-! we do have leftover takeout in the fridge-”

“what she means,” gojo begins, clucking his tongue at your awkward hospitality, not phased in the least bit when you shoot him a murderous glare that could level a city, “is to ask if you’re ready to finish what you started on the train. she’s wet for you- i bet she wants to know how different your fingers feel from mine when they’re fucking her.”

he pauses with meaning, letting it hang in the air like a fat, full moon, grin widening as he drags that salacious blue gaze down right to nanami’s crotch. “how different something else of yours feels too.”

“you are unbelievably crude.”

“why don’t we show nanami to the bedroom?” gojo suggests, eyes on you now. you have no choice but to nod, a nervous bubble trapping your words inside of your throat. you spin around, heading down the long hallway and to the main bedroom, your red bottoms clicking against the lacquered marble floors.

the entire penthouse stands for what being the precious scion of jujutsu society can buy you in a rich city. gojo’s bedroom is nearly the same size as the main living area itself, an open space with high ceilings, glass walls, and warm amber lighting. the furniture is sparse so as to not overwhelm his senses. there is a sitting area of chairs by the big glass windows that display a perfect view of tokyo’s glittery skyline, and a california king bed sits focal in the middle of the room, the memory foam mattress dressed with expensive bamboo sheets the color of rich chocolate.

it’s all familiar to you, a second home, but when the doors shut behind the three of you and you’re truly alone with them, the presence of two powerful sorcerers watching your every move, their lust humming around your body in a chokehold and threatening to devour you whole, makes you feel like you’re walking into this room for the first time.

as expected, gojo wastes no time when the doors are closed. he closes the space between the two of you, pressing the lean line of his stature against your back. you welcome him happily, desperate for his actual touch and not the teasing he does when he wants to make you cry. he lowers his head, pressing featherlight, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder that earns him the tilt of your head to allow him more access, eyelids fluttering shut as he reaches the junction of your neck.

“satoru...” you breathe out his name in the softest of sighs, and he makes a sound that he hears you— wrapping an arm under your breast as he bares down with his teeth, sucking a bruise into your skin while his fingers pinch the zipper of your dress. dragging it down until the fabric crumples to the floor and you’re the first one completely naked.

“is this the real reason you took me to dinner with you, gojo satoru? to get me out of my dress?”

“i don’t know what you mean, princess,” he says, and then he twists your body around to face him. cobalt blue orbs drinking down the sight of your naked body, darkening as he watches the way your nipples stiffen under the cold blast of air from the vents overhead. “i can get you out of your dress anytime i want.”

nanami almost rolls his eyes, but finds the restraint not to. he has enough confidence to make himself at home, too, while gojo undresses you. removing his blazer, he folds it neatly over the back of an armchair before moving to the silver drink cart on the other side of the bedroom where your boyfriend keeps alcohol he is too lightweight to actually consume, but you can feel his attention on you even though he makes himself scarce.

“are we being rude?” you whisper, only for satoru’s ears as he thumbs over one of your nipples, swallowing dryly. satoru follows your line of sight to nanami, and scoffs as if you’re being ridiculous.

“don’t worry about him right now. he knows what to do and he’ll come over when he’s ready. look at me.” gojo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze up and forcing you to look up into the twin pools of his blue eyes. at the sight of your plush body, his chest becomes so tight with want that it takes every last ounce of his self restraint to not flip you over, press you into the mattress, and split you on his cock. “that’s it. keep those pretty eyes on me.”

“attention hog,” you roll your eyes.

“gonna be a brat in front of our guest?” he hums, backing up until he sits on the edge of the bed. legs spread so that you can settle in between them. even though you’re no stranger to being naked in front of satoru, you feel exposed with the other man in the room. it doesn’t help that nanami is so quiet and observant— the sharp cut of his stare prickling against your skin from where he stands at the window, sipping dry scotch from the glass he poured himself. just knowing that he is waiting to make his move has your cunt pulsing with need, sweat beading along your hairline.

hands resting on gojo’s shoulders, you lift a leg and climb into his lap. his hands drop down to gather the seat of your ass into his palms— shamelessly kneading the fat roughly between his fingers before delivering an open-handed smack that’s so fucking hard it gnashes your teeth together, your cunt clenching desperately around emptiness.

“o-oh-! what was that for-”

“for neglecting me all night,” he whines, and brings his hand down once more— quick, dirty slaps to your ass that bounces off the hollow walls of his bedroom until tears spring to your eyes, a bittersweet mixture of pain and pleasure that you love. “for holding out on me. not letting me fuck you on top of that table where everyone could’ve watched. for being a smartass.”

“dirty old exhibitionist.”

“damn right,” he grins, like a madman. edging back on the bed and dragging you with him until you’re straddling his hips now. his cock pressing deliciously up against your pussy through his slacks and somehow, you’re no further in getting what you want than you were back on that fucking train. it frustrates you, knowing that he would rather tease you out than let you sit on it. but you know that satoru is good for it, and the only thing you can do right now is grind your hips down in a slow circle, rubbing a sticky spot into his designer slacks.

“there’s just no satiating you, is there?” he sighs, one hand leaving your ass. thumb dipping between your folds to brush over your clit, the little nub oversensitive, puffy with need, and you squirm at his fleeting touches. “sit on my tongue then, huh? been dying to taste this pretty pussy all night long, angel.”

“but i want-” your lips part to whine, but gojo sweeps in to kiss you quickly, sucking your bottom lip against his warm tongue that shushes your protests so quickly, it’s embarrassing.

“you want my cock in you, i know,” he drawls, as if he feels sympathetic for you— as if he’s your liberator and not your executioner. this is nothing for him. oh, he’s plenty aroused. been aching to be buried in your cunt since the beginning of the night, but he could tease you for hours with his relentless touches and mocking words because it’s that much better. he’s a giver, and your pussy is so much sweeter to him when he’s got you swollen with need, cheeks streaked in tears. “or maybe . . . maybe you’re begging for nanami’s now?”

you feel your heart flip, and you’ll never really get used to the feeling of knowing that you’re here, agreeing to get fucked out by your boyfriend and your colleague and they’re both denying you. head spinning into a dizzy twirl with arousal as you squirm over satoru’s clothed cock, desperate for friction. you try to bat your eyelashes, make it pretty, make him relent into skipping steps. “want you both, ‘toru. need you both. i’ve been so good for you, right? i deserve it.”

“you deserve it, baby. and you’ll have us. after you sit on my tongue.” he says, adamant in this.

“ugh!”

gojo is so nonchalant about it, waiting expectantly for you. despite how confident you are in your sex life with him, it’s one of those positions that you’ve always been a little too shy to do often, but it’s hard to even think about refusing the skill of his mouth when he looks like that.

he’s reclining on the bed now, propped up on one elbow with those pretty summer eyes smoldering under wintery lashes and the peaks of his snowy hair falling over his forehead. pressed shirt all wrinkled now with the buttons popped open so that you can see glimpses of his strong chest and the ridges of his toned abs— just beckoning for a pretty girl like you to crawl up his broad chest and smother his face with your plump thighs and intoxicating scent.

“what if i smother you?” you try one last time but the words sound ridiculous to even you.

“dare you to try,” he taunts, bravado on full volume but he squeezes the flesh of your thigh in reassurance as he reads between the lines of your words; catches the real meaning. “you shouldn’t worry about that, angel. i can take it. know why?”

“not this again-”

“know why?” he insists, like a bratty child.

you roll your eyes, but an endearing smile cuts through the thread of anxiety worming its way into your confidence. gojo’s talkative nature isn’t always annoying— sometimes, he knows exactly the right thing to say. “because you’re the strongest?”

“that’s my girl. now get up here already. nanami is getting impatient.”

nodding, you listen to him. inching up his body until your thighs cage in the handsome angles of his face, those striking azures glittering like gems between your legs as he smirks up at you like he’s got the best seat in the fucking house when in reality, it’s you.

you screw your eyes shut as gojo leans forward, bracing yourself for that first warm lick of his tongue over your sensitive nerves—

but instead of putting his mouth on you, the sorcerer presses his nose right up against your mound and takes a long, lewd whiff of your pussy— the sweet and sour musk of your slick clinging to the curls at your mound, filling his nostrils with a heady scent that makes a hoarse whine stumble out of his chest.

“you’re so gross, satoru! behave-” you squeal, reaching down to tug painfully at the messy white strands of hair on his head, but the twinge of pain that shoots through his skull only causes him to grunt even more in pleasure.

“and you smell like heaven, angel.” his nose nudges against your clit as he licks a long, rough stripe up the length of your slit. he’s not surprised that you taste as sweet as you smell either— you always do. sticky honey smearing all over the inner parts of your thighs and he makes sure it coats his tastebuds just as good too, appeasing your pretty cunt with starter flits that makes you grow hot.

one of his hands trail up your tummy, landing right on one of your tits. he twists your nipple between the rough pad of his thumb, a whimper choking off at the base of your throat at the pinch.

pleasure blooms slow between your hips. it’s so gentle, so deceiving that you almost forget who you’re fucking. gojo satoru is never really gentle . . . sometimes he forgets you’re not as strong as him, that you can fall apart at the seams if he fucks you the right way. he’s just warming up, and you fall for it every time. relaxing into his grasp, a rabbit ensnared. letting him lick you into submission, and by the time you begin to squirm, intending to run from his oncoming onslaught, your boyfriend is locking you into place with his strong arms roping around your thighs.

giving you no choice in it but to curl your fingers around the headboard in front of you and endure another round of the cruel pleasure awaiting you.

“f-fuck, i could drink you dry,” he whispers under his breath, the low rumble of his baritone muffled by the press of your puffy pussy smooshed against his full lips, the vibrations tightening your hips with stinging jolts of arousal.

you’re still so sensitive, gummy and docile in his grasp. body too tense and unable to move as gojo’s sadistic streak kicks in and takes advantage of your weakened state. he stiffens the tip of his tongue to a hard point, wriggling it right under the hood of your clit where he laps over the oversensitive, used nerves before suctioning the nub into his mouth so tight that you can feel the pull in the veins underneath. it burns. it’s everything. heat seething molten in the pit of your tummy, behind the skin of your clit, up the base of your spine.

“gentle... s-satoru, gentle. i’m so sensitive-”

“take it for me, baby. just for a little while.”

gojo satoru eats pussy like it’s his breakfast of champions, like he’ll lose his mind and wage wars on the streets of tokyo if he doesn’t begin every morning and end every night with his snowy head buried between your thighs. he’s so messy with it too, spitting and smacking to wet up your pussy. saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, down his chin, into the collar of his shirt— unbothered that the lower half of his face is glossed up in your honeyed juices as his hands force your hips into a slow grind over his lips and tongue.

and then, as if you’re not already burning from the inside out, your breaths choke off in your throat when he suddenly drags his tongue down, lapping over the entrance to your drooling cunt before he pushes it up into you.

“o-oh- oh my god.”

even though it’s nothing more than bothersome pressure, it feels so fucking good that it makes you want to collapse. thighs trembling and burning with the effort to hold up your weight. gojo makes languid, hungry pushes of the soft muscle against your walls that has you whimpering and gasping out. hips jerking as you forget yourself, bouncing down on his tongue like you’re fucking on his cock. and it’s exactly what he wanted, too— his moan is ragged, full of approval. cock throbbing against the tent in his slacks at the little sounds you make.

you’re so caught up in the feeling of gojo fucking you with his tongue, eyes squeezed shut and knuckles aching around the grip you have on the headboard, that you had forgotten all about the other man in the room until he’s standing right next to the bed. his glass of scotch held in one hand while the other reaches for you, two fingers tucking under your chin to force you to look at him.

nanami’s gaze roams all over your body. from the swell of your breasts to the tremble in your thighs as your tight cunt twitches around gojo’s tongue. your skin prickles over with goosebumps, swallowing nervously under his open scrutiny. his history with satoru and his apparent crush on you aside, you wonder what he thinks of you now? if such a proper, virtuous gentleman can keep up with insatiable freaks writhing on the bed in front of him.

will he still dream about holding your hand on tuscan beaches after watching you grind on satoru’s face while begging nanami to touch you with big, pretty eyes, whimpering his name for mercy?

“nuh-nanami-san, please-”

“kento,” he murmurs, correcting you. and he doesn’t need the liquid courage— nanami kento is a man full of surety, but he drains the last dregs of his scotch anyway. “address me as kento tonight.”

“kento,” you breathe and nod, like a good girl. “want you now. want somethin’ in my mouth.”

visibly shivering at the sound of his given name leaving your lips, at your pleas, the ex-salaryman sets the empty glass down on the nightstand and then he’s reaching for you again. he traces your face, and then the underside of your breasts. his gaze briefly dips between your legs, too. and something in you stirs at the heated look that passes between the two men you’re in between. intense coffee brown meeting mischievous ocean blue before gojo smirks and looks away first to put his attention back on you as his tongue spears up against your sensitive spot, flicking and wriggling against it to spread warmth all along your hipbones and make you cry out desperately.

reaching forward with greedy hands, you grip onto the front of kento’s dress shirt, needing a distraction from the tight coil winding slow in your gut. you tug him down to an angle where you can meet his pretty lips in a messy kiss.

though you may have been the one to initiate it, nanami overpowers you easily. he makes the blood rush from your head, leaving you dizzy as he indulges you with his tongue. pausing to kiss over your jaw, sighing soft in the back of his throat like he’s coming home after waiting years to be able to fucking do this. it’s an overwhelming feeling, having one man lick into your mouth while the other challenges your sanity with his tongue against your pussy, his only goal to have you gush all over his face.

“finally,” kento breathes hotly, cupping your cheeks gently in his big hands as he kisses along the corner of your mouth, nipping at your upper lip like he can barely hold himself back to speak, his big hands palming your breasts. “i can become acquainted with this sweet mouth of yours without that one interrupting.”

but oh, he shouldn’t have said that.

gojo grunts in offense, but he doesn’t dare stop when you’re so close. if anything, it makes him worse. his hand replaces his mouth, and you barely have time to protest before he pushes three long fingers into your sopping pussy, curling them and fucking them back and forth with a quick pace that makes you ache, the tip of his tongue back to wriggling under the hood of your clit to spear right against those burning nerves again, causing you to thrash and bite down on nanami’s bottom lip, orgasm cresting too fucking fast, washing down over you like a strong tide ready to wipe out your mind—

“give me one right now, and i’ll let nanami fuck your mouth. come on, angel face, give it here-”

“s-satoru, don’t-!” it would be a scream, but nanami drinks it down in a kiss. breath stolen right from your lungs as gojo forces the orgasm out of you, clenching and squelching so violently your cunt pushes his fingers out and you splash wetness all over the lower half of his face even though your clamp your knees together and try to hold it. tremors lock up the muscles of your thighs, and the pleasure chokes you out. high swirling in your head. you feel swollen, fucked out in the aftermath. knowing that satoru did it to prove a point, and not for your pleasure because you’re barely satisfied from it. your fingers are tangled in kento’s shirt, nearly tearing the fabric as satoru smirks victoriously between your thighs with his face soaking wet.

you push his head away from you weakly, but you know that he won’t let you off with just one.

you don’t want him to.

“y-you didn’t have to force it,” you whine, still shaking. “i fucking hate you.”

“that wasn’t very kind, sweetheart,” kento is the one who speaks next, clucking his tongue. and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you insulting gojo, tearing his shirt, or nearly biting his lip in half or all three. but his lips look so fucking good all bitten and swollen, a dollop of blood pooling where you broke the skin that you ignore his scolding. at least until nanami takes your hand, pressing it firmly against the crotch of his slacks— letting you get a feel of just how painfully stiff his cock feels underneath the fabric.

“i expect that apology i was promised now.”

god, you don’t need to be told twice.

watching nanami through fluttering eyelashes, you work through unbuttoning his shirt and pants. the buckle of his designer belt clinks as you wriggle them down his hips just enough to free his cock. you can’t help the whine that leaves you, breath leaving your chest in a whistle at the way it slaps against his abdomen. it’s pretty. he hisses at that first contact of your hand wrapping around the base, moving it out of the way as you lean forward to press a kittenish kiss to his sharp, defined hipbone.

“your cock is almost as handsome as the rest of you,” you breathe, voice the weight of a siren’s call. “can i taste it?”

oh, you could pull him underneath the sea with the way you’re looking at him. he barely gives you a nod, and you smile. only a man as pristine as nanami would look this dignified with his pants tucked under his ass cheeks and his expensive shirt hanging off his shoulders, barely held out of the way as you stroke him slow from root to tip, wetting your palm with his sticky precum, opaque over your fingers for an easier slide.

it’s not surprising that he is beautiful everywhere. a dusting of sandy hair on his defined chest and a sculpted adonis belt that tapers off into a pale and veiny cock. it’s not too long, slightly curved up towards his naval. perfectly heavy and thick— weighing your wrist down with body and strain. it feels scandalous and forbidden, like you shouldn’t be here stroking another man’s cock while your boyfriend watches, but then you remember that he is enjoying this most of all.

“put your mouth on him, angel,” gojo instructs suddenly, pressing sticky kisses along your inner thigh to remind you of his presence. he barely sounds winded, nipping bruises into your pillowy skin as his salacious gaze locks onto the visual of your hand working over nanami’s leaking cock. “i’m almost done down here.”

with that, he suckles your puffy clit back into his mouth. his throat flexing as he drinks down the pretty juices leftover. your hips jerk in surprise, but you try your best not to fall. to focus on your part in all of this. you grip onto nanami’s hip for purchase as your swollen lips part for the dripping, thick tip of his cock. sheathing your teeth like gojo taught you and sucking nanami between them slow, letting the 7:3 sorcerer feel the warm slide of your cheeks, fulfilling his darkest little desire of getting to fuck your mouth.

and nanami hates to admit it, but gojo satoru being there to witness it, all six eyes on him, is like an added summer bonus.

nanami is such a patient man. he would never think about forcing your pace, but he does place his hand on the top of your head, gently rubbing his thumb over your soft hair. it makes you want to please him further, sinking the tight ring of your mouth down on him until he grunts. the rough texture of your tongue scraping against the sensitive underside of his cock. you’re always such a good girl when it comes to sucking dick that satoru feels that familiar lick of envy burn fury-green in his sternum at the thought of his own erection sitting neglected in his slacks, but he wouldn’t miss the sight of his darling angel struggling to fit nanami’s girth fully into your little mouth even if the world was burning.

“don’t suck him in like that or he’ll cum too fast and ruin it for all of us.”

you’re about to reel back, smart off and tell gojo that you know how to properly suck a man off, that you’ve brought his ass to snot and tears with your mouth before, but something in your belly warms with lust instead and your words die under the weight of nanami’s cock pressing your tongue down as you remember what gojo said on the train. that maybe he’s instructing you because he already knows what makes nanami’s knees weak. that those pretty pink lips of your boyfriend’s have been right where yours are now. stretched obscenely around nanami’s thick cock, tongue flicking over the slit of his leaking head, swallowing like a good boy when the 7:3 sorcerer paints his throat white—

oh.

“that’s it,” kento murmurs under his breath, low and gravelly. ruined. he bends at the waist, cupping your cheeks in his big hands, thumb brushing over the bulged outline of his girth pushing against your cheeks as you suckle around him. “i dreamt of this. laid awake at night thinking of how you would look when i touch you, how you would look with your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock.” he thinks he was a fool for saying that he does not praise or disparage, because he can’t help himself now. how can he not praise you, sweet, perfect you, when you’re suckling on him like that? staring up at him through coquettish eyelashes with a mouth so fucking molten, it makes his stomach churn.

he’s almost nauseous in his pleasure. huffing out low groans as you bob once, twice, swallow around the tip of his cock and repeat. trapping nanami in an endless cycle that makes his knees buckle out. falling too fast for the hot brand around him that burns straight through his skin. eventually, he has to draw back. huff out a groan as he lets himself slip out with a wet pop. “stick your tongue out for me, love. say ah.”

curling your tongue down to your chin, smiling impishly when the sight makes him groan. he moves forward after a moment of reprieve, slapping the heavy tip of his cock against your flattened tongue— smearing sticky precum all over the surface. you barely have time to swallow it down, slide his sweet taste down your throat before he cups your cheeks in warning and his hips surge forward. widening your eyes in surprise as he widens your jaw at the same time.

nanami kento isn’t at all what you expected. you figured he would be gentle and slow with you, almost boring in his romanticism. but your hands fly to his hipbones as your throat flexes and you choke around the thick stretch your colleague lodges down your esophagus.

“that’s it. let me in.” he whispers, and he makes the words sound like heaven when he’s committing sin. you’re only granted a moment to breathe when he springs back, grunting deep in his chest as you part so obediently for him. spit bubbling down your chin, pooling to drip between your breasts and onto satoru’s cheek where he distractedly plays with your clit underneath. your jaw aches, but you let him bruise your throat without complaint.

“fuck, fuck. you’re so good for him, baby. can’t wait to feel that pretty throat struggling ‘round my cock too.”

“you’re neglecting her, satoru.” nanami chastises above the volume of your wet gurgles and gargles, jaw locked tight in pure pleasure. he places his hand on your shoulder, bearing down to add weight and force you back onto gojo’s waiting tongue. your boyfriend smirks against your skin, encircling his lips around one of your puffy folds, nibbling it with his teeth before he laves you with long, wet stripes of his tongue. it becomes a push and pull of how long they can tease you. every heated lick at your frayed, overstimulated nerves and every thrust of nanami’s cock against the gummy patch of your throat threatens to make you faint.

“pw-pleashe-” you blubber around the stretch of nanami fucking into your mouth, fluttering your teary lashes up at him— hiccupping desperate gulps of air into your lungs when nanami eases his hips back immediately, pulling off your tongue so that he can listen to your sweet pleas.

“i think she has something to say,” satoru muses as nanami wipes his thumb over your lips to wipe away the dribbles of spit drooling down your chin and connecting you to the flushed, aching head of his cock.

“what is it, love? go on.”

“i can’t take it anymore. please please please-”

“been thinking ‘bout it since we left that restaurant, huh?” gojo swipes an indulgent, selfish lick of his tongue over your clit one last time before he’s lifting you off of him and moving out from under your body, letting you settle amongst the pillows instead as he kneels on the bed. “you’ve been nothing but an angel for us tonight so how can i deny you?”

you should be embarrassed the way your heart leaps in anticipation, heat swarming in your belly and you shamelessly open your legs for him, but satoru doesn’t move an inch to touch you.

you’re convinced he enjoys watching you suffer when he moves to stand behind nanami instead, resting his chin on the younger man’s shoulder so that he can look down the long expanse of his torso while he boldly curls his fingers around nanami’s cock with a firm grip, just to make his entire body pitch forward with a startled grunt—

“gojo-”

“look how hard you’ve got him, princess,” he muses gleefully, bright eyes shining as he swipes the wide pad of his thumb over the head of nanami’s cock. and you can’t help but look, watching the way clear precum bubbles out of the slit and smears between the joints of satoru’s fingers as he strokes him slowly. nanami’s cheeks flush, his lips parting on a groan before he seems to remember himself and clenches his teeth.

you’re reaching down before you know it, slipping a hand between your own thighs and petting two fingers over your folds but satoru’s gaze whips over to you so fast your heart drops to your gut, his eyes darkening as he catches you with a red hand. “don’t you dare, you little slut. wait your turn.”

he waits until you nod meekly, move your hand and curl your fists to your chest and then he’s back to his task.

satoru’s hand is different, it’s always been like that. while your touch had been soft, warm, unfamiliar— satoru’s is intense and vivid, like a bad memory. his palm is calloused friction as he drags his hand up the thick length of nanami’s cock, spreading your leftover spit into his skin. no kind of rhythm in his movement, just enough to make the blond man’s hips buck forward before he’s ripping his hand away and chuckling to himself.

“you just couldn’t wait to get your hands on my cock,” nanami bites out through gritted teeth.

“you’re right,” gojo purrs, a teasing grin on his lips, and then his attention slides to you. “i think nanami wants to fuck you first, sugar.”

at this point, you could care less who gets there first— as long as you’re given what you want the most. glancing at gojo with watery eyes, you look over at him for approval. wondering if he’ll edge you to the brim and snatch it away from you again, but he nods, giving you a soft look that melts your insides to goo. “i’ll admit, i’m reluctant. i’ve been dying to get into this pretty little cunt all night long, but i’m gonna be nice and put you both out of your miseries.”

“i’ve got something else you can do for me, anyway,” he continues. his nimble fingers move to pop the button on his own slacks then, sliding them down with little effort. he isn’t wearing any underwear, and you swallow greedily around a dried-out tongue as you get your first glimpse of the night of his pretty cock. it bobs out— flushed bubblegum pink and pearling at the tip between strong thighs frosted over by white peach fuzz. unfortunately, you don’t get a chance to reach out and wrap your fingers around it because nanami is crowding your space, letting you breathe in the spicy scent of his expensive aftershave.

“you’re so eager to do whatever he asks. will you do the same for me tonight?” he wonders, looking down at you with flushed cheeks and mussed hair.

demure in the way you press your knees further apart until they brush the sheets, making room for his hips to slot in between them. scooting into his lap until your ass cheeks nudge against the wet tip of his cock— legs draped over his muscled thighs so that he can see everything. nanami’s eyes droop down, raking desperately over that pretty little cunt of yours. he swallows, the knot in his throat bobbing under the thin skin before he reaches down to spread your slit apart, all slicked and gooey in strings of wet and the remnants of satoru’s spit.

“such a pretty pussy,” nanami breathes out the compliment like a prayer, like he’ll die if he doesn’t bury himself in your cunt within the next few minutes. “but i didn’t think you were so tight here.” he marvels, the tip of his cock just barely slipping past your entrance and catching. “how you manage to take that idiot is beyond me.”

“that almost sounds like a compliment,” gojo quips, but his sky blue attention is distracted between your legs.

it’s funny how a simple night out to a birthday dinner for principle gakuganji turned out like this— with your stoic, antisocial colleague wrapping his veined hands around your squishy thighs and laying the length of his cock, fat and leaking, on the top of your puffy mound to compare the difference.

the man in front of you is nothing like your quiet colleague. where you expected soft serve missionary and whispered praises from him, you got a fucking size kink and him sucking his cheeks against his teeth before letting a warm glob of spit trail from his mouth to drizzle onto his cock. it’s lewd, how he lets it cool there, watching it spread down the side until it drips onto your pussy as you squirm under the perverted scrutiny from both men. he grips the base of his cock and taps the tip against your clit to make you squirm, smearing his spit as he moves.

“kento,” you breathe, the tight ring of your cunt twitching because he’s so fucking close to where you want him. “fuck me already.”

“be patient, love,” he coos, and you feel the calloused pad of his thumb shift from holding your folds open to dipping his thumb into your cunt briefly, making you jump. “how long does satoru usually make you wait and beg for what you want?”

“too long. oh, he’s so cruel to me, kento,” you simper, batting those wet eyelashes to get your way, your hands grasping at nanami’s tapered hips.

“i’m not like that,” he reassures. “if you want something, i’ll provide it for you.”

and then, nanami’s hips angle down before sinking forward, the push of his cock spreading the walls of your cunt apart agonizingly slow.

“nghhhh-”

it feels like heaven, and both of you let out a groan. it’s everything nanami dreamed of. pleasure scrapes up his spine, numbing everything else around him and burning his nerves raw until all he can feel is your pussy, splitting open nice and sweet for him.

“so good for me, just a little more,” nanami clenches his jaw, fingers digging into your hips as his lidded eyes stare down at your pretty face— eyes wide and swollen lips suspended in a silent moan.

immediately though, nanami knows that you’ll be a fucking problem. for all your begging for him, you don’t take it well. he’s barely in as it is, only just past the fat, flushed crown and you’re already choking on gasps and gurgles. slipping out of his grasp and scrambling further up the bed, running to gojo— running away from that first, twinging stretch of the blunt weight of nanami’s wide cockhead.

“oh, no you don’t- where are you runnin’ off to, sugar?” satoru is the one who reaches down, hooking his hand behind your knee and keeping your leg pinned open for nanami, halfheartedly twisting a fist over the head of his own cock as he watches the other sorcerer force himself through the tight walls of your pussy.

“god, fuck-!” you whine, pressing your forehead against gojo’s knee.

“what’s wrong? is this not what you begged me for? begged us both for?”

“y-yeah, but i- c-can’t take it. ‘s too big, ken. w-won’t fit.”

“now you’re just flattering me to get what you want, love,” he murmurs, voice soothing over your frayed nerves like melted chocolate; his soft, nasally voice vibrates against your skin as he dips his head down, pressing his lips to the valley between your sweaty breasts before angling his head to wrap his lips around one of your peaked nipples. “don’t you worry now, i’ll make sure it fits. i’ll make sure you take every inch of my cock.”

you hate that his words sound oddly reassuring, like he’s soothing a frightened animal— like he’s not wider, heavier than satoru when he reels back before fucking himself into you again, to the hilt this time. snorting under his breath when your knees close up, clacking violently against his hips. your first instinct is to push him out, thighs shaking with the effort to take him but he’s sinking with so much weight that it knocks the breath out of your lungs, giving you no choice but to let him split you open.

gojo doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he is enjoying your struggle. he’s scratching the itch of a longtime kink of his, mumbling to himself like a madman about how you look so fucking hot like this, how you take nanami like the good girl you are. this is exactly what he wanted, and he always gets what he wants; but it’s what you wanted too. you wanted satoru to watch the way you thrash against the sheets, the way your pretty lips part to moan your coworker’s name— how fucking beautiful you look arching your back off the bed, hair splayed out on the pillows with another man’s cock fucking inside you.

“how does he feel, angel?”

“so big, s-so fucking wide-!” you squeal, your words hiccupping off into a throaty moan, “i can’t-”

“why don’t you be a big girl for nanami? show him how good you are at taking cock, baby,” satoru purrs, stroking his hand across your soft cheek. you nod a little, bite down on your lip, curling your fists into the sheets as nanami fucks steady, raw soreness against the walls of your cunt. the soft swell of your breasts bouncing with each calculated, hard thrust. you muffle the sounds you make against satoru’s knee, but nanami seems to enjoy your gasping cries. practically cooing in response each time he drags one out of you.

“show him that you can take two at once.”

before you can comprehend what he means, kento is the one who pauses his strokes, encapsulating your hips in his big hands before he tips you onto your side to give satoru easier access. it’s strange, seeing two men who don’t get along work together to fuck you to tears but it also warms your cunt, a feverish flush traversing through your veins because they’re taking care of you so well. nanami hooks your ankle over his shoulder, bending you until the joints in your hips ache and then he fucks back in, his blunt fingernails digging bloody moons into the doughy skin of your thighs at the feeling of your cunt swallowing him up once more.

when gojo shifts his hips forward, you know what he wants and you loll out your tongue like a good girl, waiting until your boyfriend wraps his fingers around the back of your head, spindly digits tangling in your hair painfully as he guides your head forward, running your tongue across the leaking slit of his cock, let you gather up his precum on your tastebuds. groaning. sucking in his gut as you let him use your mouth for his pleasure, letting him control you like a little rag doll. and when he tugs on your hair, your swollen lips close around the tip of his cock, suckling on it obediently. whining when you suck just right and the salty taste of his watery precum coats your tongue.

“look at you, you’re filthy,” nanami mutters, and though the degradation should smart, it makes your hips buck up against his in response because nanami says it with so much fucking veneration, it sounds like he’s praying to god. “i should have known because of who you’re dating, but look. at. you- you’re worse than he is. thrashing all over my cock while you suck another.”

“k-kento-”

you don’t need a mirror to know how you look under them. vixenish. a thing out of fantasy, a greedy little cockslut happily splitting open those honey thighs for one man while your pretty mouth is wide open for another; wedged between both of them to be used for their pleasure.

and you couldn’t be happier— you dip low, tonguing at the seam of satoru’s balls, spit congregating at the corner of your lips before he shakes his head, cheeks candy cane red and blue eyes lidded. fingers tightening in your hair with a brutal twist of his wrist, hips fucking forward to sink himself further into your mouth.

“f-fuck, sweet girl. just like that.”

nanami’s watching the entire thing, his gaze fixated on the two of you as you suck gojo greedily between your lips. his heart thumps wild, and he can’t help but fuck a little harder at the sight, a little faster, a little meaner, because he knows what you’re tasting right now from experience. salt and sugar at the tip, precum gathering against your tongue that never ends because satoru is messy. his throat dries up, sandy hair falling over his forehead as he tucks his chin against his chest and forces his eyes shut.

“how does she feel, nanami?” satoru goads, voice breathless, lidded eyes flickering to the man fucking between your legs. “better than me?”

“better than you ever have. look how easy she’s opening up for me,” nanami shoots at the white-haired man, his fingers holding one side of your pussy open so both men can watch nanami’s cock slide in and out, your cunt expanding to take him with each sink before squeezing down when he presses deep. he’s made a mess of you already— the thick root of his cock coated in a ring of white cream, flecks of it splattered over his lower abdomen.

it’s too much— fuck, he can barely keep his composure. he’s losing control and it’s too much and that’s why nanami does it. he’s overwhelmed. you run too hot, and his gut feels like it’s on fire. each sink of his heavy cock against the warm, squishy walls of your cunt, combined with satoru’s low groans and the sound of you choking around his cock up front threatens to send him over the edge too early. that’s why nanami’s honey eyes darken, why he reaches for satoru— gripping him hard by the nape of his neck and tugging him forward.

gojo grunts in surprise as nanami yanks him in, but it isn’t as if he doesn’t want to go; as if he doesn’t want to chase the thread nanami is weaving right now. they barely share a heated look before gojo dips his head, locking them into a kiss.

the first thing that crosses your mind is that it’s so fucking hot, and the second is that the way they kiss each other is not the gentle way they coaxed you into letting them explore your mouth. they aren’t delicate with each other, and you should not have expected them to be.

gojo usually has so much control over nanami— being a stronger sorcerer than him, dominating the conversations they have by annoying him to no end— but when they kiss, it’s different. nanami grips the back of gojo’s neck in a vice, keeping him in place while his long fingers tangle in the short strands of nanami’s hair. it’s all heated licks into satoru’s mouth, lewd sucks against nanami’s tongue. like they’ve waited so fucking long to do this again. one drunk on your pussy and the other drugged out on your throat as they kiss each other vigorously.

their lips are wet with spit, and at one point gojo bites down on nanami’s tongue hard enough to nick it, groaning at the metallic tang that rides over his taste. you don’t miss how nanami’s hips drive into you harder after that, forcing his grunts down gojo’s throat as punishment.

if you had any doubts that they had done this before, you don’t have them now. it’s obvious in their chemistry, and though the thoughts swirl in your mind, you don’t feel jealousy as they tongue into each other’s mouths. no matter what, you are the center of satoru’s world and nothing will change that. instead, it’s hotter like this, seeing the two of them kiss each other. knowing the three of you are sharing each other.

“who told you that you could stop?” kento’s gaze flickers to you, head tilted down and directing the question at you. his chest rises and falls in a desperate heave as satoru mouths a path across the sharp cut of the ex-salaryman’s jawline to the long, toned expanse of his neck. leaving aubergine nips and bites along the smooth olive skin there that nanami hisses at.

you had been so caught up in watching them that you don’t even remember stopping. you’re almost too fucked out to function yourself— to keep up with the only task you had besides laying there and taking cock, but your cheeks warm as nanami scolds you for slacking off. at some point, you had pulled off of satoru’s cock, rubbing your spit against his skin with a halfhearted, lazy handjob. neglecting your poor boyfriend to watch them kiss. nanami’s hand drops, gripping the back of your head and forcing you to swallow satoru’s cock once more. you suck him in quick, gurgling spit and precum and air in a dirty choke as the warmth catches him off guard and his hips snap forward too fast, the tip of his cock brushing against the fleshy patch at the back of your throat and gagging you out.

“good girl, f-fuck. you’re so good for me, so good, so fuckin’ good,” oh, he sounds like he’s almost sobbing.

as you pull him further in, a hot brand suctioning around the girth of his cock at the same time nanami boldly scrapes a fingernail over one of his nipples. it’s enough stimulation, enough overwhelming pleasure that he feels a lurch in his gut, a kick in his balls and then he’s withdrawing almost as fast as he buried himself in, pulling his cock off your tongue at an almost reluctant pace, a string of spit connecting you to his flushed tip.

“need a minute. can’t cum yet,” he expels a deep breath of relief, grinning at you lopsidedly and bending at the waist to kiss your puffy lips— groaning when he tastes his musk on your tongue. but it’s obvious that gojo satoru isn’t tapping out of his own game.

instead, he stretches out on his belly and suckles one of your nipples into his mouth, pulling the little nub so hard onto his tongue that you feel your eyes wet up at the sensation, walls clenching around nanami with a gasp. he quickly grows bored, though. hand trailing down your tummy until you jump in oversensitivity as his fingers shift through your spread slit, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your puffy, sore clit as nanami sinks in and out of your pussy.

you whine, wanting to cum so desperately that your lashes are wet with frustrated tears, grinding against each of nanami’s thrusts, euphoric dopamine filling your brain each time his fat cock fucks right against that sweet spot inside of you.

“gojo-san, behave,” nanami warns suddenly, already knowing what the snowy-haired sorcerer is up to. gojo just grins, and then his fingers are dipping a little further, a dangerous glint in his eye that makes your heart sink.

“aw, come on, spoilsport. i just wanna see how your cock feels inside my girl,” he says innocently, but his smirk betrays his intentions completely. you hiss through your teeth as satoru fishhooks a finger into your pussy, thrusting it right alongside nanami’s cock and tugging, stretching you out even further.

“o-oh-” you keen, and then your boyfriend is leaning down and licking a broad stripe over the length of your slit, hardening the point of his tongue to flick it rapidly against your clit, the heady scent of sex filling his nostrils, making him lightheaded.

you squeak out in surprise, fingers flying to grip his hair, acrylics digging into his scalp because you’re so delirious with pleasure now, fucked out and so so full— walls twitch and clench with each weighted thrust of nanami’s cock, the forked ridges of the veins along the shaft dragging against your nerves, slick squelching out of your stretched hole to drip down the middle of your ass cheeks.

“look at me while i’m fucking you, darling,” nanami beckons for your attention and you give it to him, looking up at him with misty, lidded eyes. “there we go, there’s my pretty girl,” he croons and he knows that he shouldn’t stake a claim on you like this— you’ll be back in satoru’s arms soon enough, you’ll never belong to him, after all, but he can’t help himself; his hand petting your cheek affectionately as he fucks into you. “you’re going to make me cum soon, love. gonna make me fill up this perfect little cunt. do you want that?”

“yes-! want your cum, kento. want it so bad.”

“that’s right, darling. let me hear it. let me hear you scream my fucking name in front of your boyfriend.”

“want you to cum inside me, k-kento. wanna cum with you. f-fuck me, it feels so good-!” you plea, and the beginnings of an orgasm stirs in your tummy— warmth spreading all over the nerves of your clit and building until you can feel it right on the edge, so close that tears bubble up in your pretty eyes because you want it so fucking bad. all it would take is for nanami to fuck into you at the right angle, for gojo to crook the fingers he still has inside of you and press up against that sweet spot and make you fall apart underneath them.

but you should have expected that gojo satoru would have other plans. his tongue innocently flicking out against your clit until he moves down, mouth widening a little further so that when nanami reels his hips all the way back and plunges forward, it’s not your cunt that nanami sinks into, it’s satoru’s mouth. pretty pouty lips closing around the head of nanami’s cock at the last minute, hollowing his cheeks out, sucking him all the way to the back of his throat like a fucking professional—

“what the- fuck,” a guttural grunt of surprise is punched out of nanami that sounds so deep, so ruined that it rattles your teeth, his entire body trembling at the hot suction swallowing around his cock and he’s lost to it, no chance of fighting it or scolding satoru for the dirty trick— he simply grips the back of his head roughly, burying himself down the sorcerer’s throat as he spurts white ropes of cum onto gojo’s tongue, forcing him to drink every fucking drop.

nanami heaves in the aftermath, barely able to catch his breath. “can you ever get through the day without being a freak?”

“keep degrading me,” gojo sighs before he grips your cheeks, squishing them between the pads of his fingers until your tongue pushes out from the pressure and he can lean over your body, lolling out his own tongue and drizzling a thick strand of his spit and nanami’s leftover seed from his mouth into your own, bringing a moan to your lips as your hips thrash. you make a show of playing with it— spreading white it over the surface of your tongue before you swallow eagerly, whining needily as his cum slides down your throat. “it makes my dick even harder.”

“i didn’t get to cum,” you pout.

“sorry, princess,” he doesn’t sound apologetic at all when he looks down his nose at you, shrugging one broad shoulder. “can’t let you have all the fun. don’t worry, though. i’m going to take care of you.”

you would be lying if you said your stomach didn’t lurch at the promise.

you’re vaguely aware that the two of them are switching places, eyes too blurry with clouds to see for sure until nanami sits back against the large headboard and pulls you into a half-seated position so that you’re leaning against his chest and his strong arm is encircled around your middle as satoru nudges your cum streaked thighs apart. your eyes are lidded, but you still can see him brush his fingers over your used pussy before he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, unforgiving and no further warning before he presses inside of you.

heat washes over your entire body, your belly aching as you’re filled up to the brim once again. where nanami was thicker, satoru is everything— overwhelming, all consuming. making your eyes slam shut during that first push every time, unable to help your high pitched whines as he forces you to take every last inch of his cock.

“not gonna say ‘t-toru it’s too much’ for me like you did nanami? i must be losing my touch,” he sneers, mocking you with a condescending coo, his eyes rolling down when he bottoms out inside of you.

“f-… god. f-fuck you.”

“anything for you.”

satoru isn’t interested in teasing any longer, not when he’s been on edge for hours. the unruly, hard rhythm of his fucking has you squirming on his cock quick, each thrust knocking you against nanami’s bare chest— giving you nowhere to run. it hurts, but it’s so good. your cunt too sensitive after being used all night long like this, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

“be good for him, darling,” nanami encourages, and you think you could get used to the way he holds you— his lips pressed against the temple of your head, his breath hot against your skin as he presses the softest of kisses there, contrasted with the brutal lashings of satoru’s fucking.

you nod dumbly, letting yourself be wrapped in nanami’s strong arms as satoru fucks in and out, relentless in his strokes, keeping that familiar ache in the pit of your belly. his hips press against yours as he grinds the tip of his cock against the entrance to your womb and he knows he’s too deep when you wince, when your fingernails scratch against his tapered v-line to beg for mercy so he compromises, drawing back until he can see the foam streaking his cock.

“puh-please, ‘toru,” you pant out, guttural and desperate so satoru falls over you, groaning into your shoulder as he does exactly what you asked— slamming his cock into you. making you cry out in surprise as he fucks deep once more, pulses of pleasure burning through your body and making your legs clamp around his hips.

“i-i can’t-” you whine, squeezing your thighs together, but satoru holds you open, not taking your complaints, pressing you down further against nanami so that it’s impossible to escape the dirty onslaught of his cock. “much- too much-!”

“oh, now you say it, ” satoru growls out, rolling his hips. “too late. cum for me and i’ll stop. come on, sweet baby. cum on my cock.”

you can tell that he’s losing it too, the friction almost too much to bear for you both. wrapping your arms around satoru’s neck and clinging to him, you bite your lips to muffle the gasps and moans trying to escape as the heat stirring in your belly is almost to bursting now, a rubber band pulled taut and ready to snap.

nanami ducks a hand between the wet slide of your bodies, pushing his middle finger against your clit. rubbing in quick circles and you mewl, squirming and thrashing against them both. “do what he says, cum for him.” and you try to hold it, try to last a little longer but it’s no use; the three of you are pressed against each other beautifully and the room feels hazy and hot, suffocating everything else until your pleasure is sharpened to a bright point, until you can feel nothing but them. raw pulses. inner walls spasming against satoru’s cock as he thrusts against you, fucking against that spot inside you until it feels sore, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass cheeks each time he sinks into you.

“i-i’m g’na cum, oh f-fuck, i’m gonna cum-!”

“oh, there we go,” satoru groans as he fights through the tight squeeze of your walls, like you’re late and he’s tired of waiting.

your vision dots with black stars, screams echoing off the walls of the room in gojo’s penthouse before your back arches and you’re gone, squirting as your swollen walls clamp desperately around satoru’s cock; drenching the sheets below as you gush all over them both, sniffling as the force of your orgasm forces hot tears to spill from your eyes that gojo and nanami bend down to lick away from your cheeks.

satoru follows close behind, his own climax hitting him like a fucking train— groaning as buries himself deep to cream your cunt with his thick cum. the sight of the two of you, so pretty and filthy as you cling to each other, makes nanami cum again too. completely untouched, spurting hot seed against your lower back where he holds you up.

it feels like forever before your eyes flutter open and when they do, you look up at nanami, his face flushed and hair mussed out of the confines of his hair gel. then, your eyes slide down to gojo who is looking utterly pleased with himself. he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, pulling it free before his thumb gently spreads your folds apart, snorting when you hide your face in your hands as both of them fixate on the sight of your ruined cunt once more. thighs streaked with sweat and cum, strands of seed dripping out of your hole to pool beneath you on the sheets. you look so messy and nanami has to tear his gaze away, his gut lurching with the desire to eat it out of you.

“fuck, that was good,” gojo breathes, and you whine when he scoops up some of the cum leaking out of you with two fingers and pushes it back into your pussy.

“stop staring at it-!”

“don’t be shy. i’m glad i was given the privilege to see you cum like this, darling,” nanami murmurs, kissing your temple as he pries your hands away from your face. then he moves from behind you, letting your body rest amongst the enormous sea of pillows satoru keeps on his bed. “i trust that the two of you will allow me to eat dinner in peace next time, now that you’ve satisfied another one of your appetites.”

“no promises,” you giggle, stretching out on the bed and bringing one of the pillows closer to cuddle it.

“i should help you clean up. satoru, where do you keep the towels?” he says and though he sounds like such a gentleman, it’s really because if he keeps staring at the cum leaking out of you in rivulets, he won’t be able to ever leave this fucking room.

but the white-haired sorcerer doesn’t answer him. instead, gojo flops down and hooks an arm around your waist— his long legs tangling with yours as he pulls you against his chest. it feels symbolic to nanami, somehow. like he’s shared your body, shared his own in a way, and now he’s ready to fit the rightful pieces of the puzzle back into their places.

for a moment, nanami had almost forgotten that neither of you have ever belonged to him.

he is the outsider, after all.

his expression remains neutral because he knows when he has overstayed his welcome, knows when one of satoru’s little games are over and there are no rematches. he has been in this situation before, after all— younger, reckless, and just as foolish as he is now— so he stands up and prepares to leave with dignity, walk over to his neatly folded clothes on the armchair by the window and hope that he doesn’t fall asleep dreaming about the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. praying that now that he’s had you, it’ll be out of his system for good—

“where are you going, kento?” you wonder in genuine confusion, wrapping your hand around his wrist to halt his stride as you tilt your head up with a frown. nanami feels his heart kick in his chest. “we can clean up later, silly. come back to bed.”

“i don’t think i should stay,” nanami sniffs, wishing he had his tie to adjust out of nervous habit.

“you know, leaving right after you fucked my brains out is not very gentlemanly of you, nanami kento,” you scold halfheartedly, mouth twisted to the side.

“i have missions in the morning so i regrettably cannot-” his ears turn crabapple pink at your crude words, his free hand reaching over to gently pry your fingers away from his wrist but you refuse to let go.

“well, if you want to be a proper lover, then you will,” you tug on his wrist insistently, almost yanking him back onto the slightly damp covers. satoru grins like a cheshire cat as nanami obliges you, sliding into bed on your other side.

nanami has never wanted to slap an expression off of someone as much as he does now, but as usual satoru sees everything. he sees what nanami refuses to admit right now: that he was relieved you asked him to stay. that you may just have him completely gone. that tonight unearthed long buried feelings for white hair and a mischievous smile. that he just needs a little bit of time, a little bit of coaxing, to stop being so stubborn and come to terms with those facts.

“i told you she’s greedy, nanami,” satoru grins.

“i suppose i have no choice then, do i?”

“nope,” you confirm, and you know that the three of you have a lot to discuss tomorrow about what this means but this progression feels natural, adding balance.

nanami staying with the two of you feels like it was meant to be.

“you have to make breakfast in the morning.”

#little novels.#gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you

4K notes · View notes

mikajunie · 3 months

Text

rediscovering shame and giving yourself compassion (how to deal with shame as someone with ADHD)

this is directed towards my fellow ADHDers who have trouble with reoccuring shame while leads to hindered productivity.

signs that your productivity is hindered by shame (compiled by my own experiences):

you feel negative physical symptoms when you think about your responsibilities

you find ways to avoid the responsibilities

every time you make progress, you feel like you don't ever wanna touch it again

when you present your progress, you feel ashamed of yourself because it's not finished (on time & according to ur standards).

you feel like you are a constant failure. you never win, despite achieving good things here and there.

you are a walking ball of anxiety

you have a fear of being perceived

there's probably more, but eh those are just from my own experiences

below i will write down what y'all should remember, what you can do to help yourself, etc. this is compiled from dr k, my own journaling time, and my firsthand experience from having shame 24/7

some things u gotta remember

shame is what exists in the gap between your ideal self and where you are currently.

your ideal self doesn't have to be unrealistic, it can be yourself when you were at your peak or someone who is very similar to you.

shame brings negative thoughts, because it makes you see progress as a negative thing.

instead of being happy that u made progress, u grumble to urself and ask "why didnt i just do it sooner? im so stupid". it's a reminder of your failures, so u avoid progress altogether.

shame can become a part of you, to the point where you feel uneasy or vulnerable if you dont feel ashamed at yourself

shame doesn't do anything to ADHDers in the long run except self-loathing and hindered productivity.

what should u do?

basically self-therapy, but instead of stopping at why, i try to solve my shame one-by-one.

examine past moments where you felt a LOT of shame. this can go back to elementary. the stronger the emotions, the better. now, write them down. you're probably cringing, but that is good. feel all the cringiness running through ur veins.

why did you feel shame? why did it happen? what did you feel?

reframe your thoughts. instead of immediately running away from it, accept it and justify it. give it compassion. give it a hug. was it your 7 year old self? hug yourself. it's okay to fuck up and do silly things sometimes, and it's okay to have ADHD. it's not our fault.

remember that ADHD is a lifelong nerudivergency, you can't just push it away. coping mechanisms and tools help, but give yourself some grace when you screw up. it's our first time living anyway.

calm your body down. make sure your physical body is doing okay.

now... think of one thing you want to do but can't because of shame and do these steps carefully. think of the reasons why you might be ashamed, and reframe your thoughts.

WARNING!! TAKE IT ONE PRESENT ACTION AT A TIME. don't do this for every action you want to take, let your body slowly learn that it's okay to make progress despite the shame you feel, and you are allowed to feel compassion for yourself.

train your body to accept compassion slowly. life is tough with ADHD but it's even tougher knowing that shame will get in your way. give yourself a break, it's fine to fuck up, we all go through different things anyway. even if it's not fine, you will learn and make those mistakes a lil bit lesser in the future.

ok hope this helps.

#mika rambles #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #adhd #actuallyadhd #actually adhd #adhd tips #adhd advice #adhd problems #adhd brain #adhd things #self improvement #mental health #mental illness #advice

689 notes · View notes

ahqkas · 19 days

Text

♯ TOO SWEET ; mattheo riddle

❛ i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3, you’re too sweet for me ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! in which mattheo recalled the two times you were too sweet for him (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! consummation of alcohol, lovesick mattheo, fluff, angst, a lot of my hcs for mattheo’s past (i wrote him the way i see him), lmk if i missed smth !!

NOTES! this is purely my view on mattheo’s character bc the hc i wrote suit him sm 😿😿 reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

ONCE A MAN FALLS IN LOVE, he finds himself drawn to not just the physical beauty of his muse, but for the essence of who the person truly is - their quirks, intelligence, kindness, and their unique way of seeing the world. Every interaction, every shared experience, every memory he brings, adds another layer to his adoration towards the love of his life.

His love for them is evident in the little things - the way he watches them when they aren't looking, the small gestures of thoughtfulness, the silent support during their dark moments of life. It's in the way he listens, truly listens, to the hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, always eager to offer his thoughts and ideas. This love manifests in his desire to be their anchor in times of storm, their cheerleader in moments of triumph, and their person in all the in-betweens. It is a love that values their independence and individuality, recognizing that they are their own person with their own journey, and yet, he longs to be a part of that journey, to walk alongside them and share in their joys and sorrows of life.

Mattheo Riddle was no different.

He marvels at your kindness, your sweetness, and the light you bring into his life. You are his muse, his inspiration, a spark of the goodness that stands in stark contrast to his own perceived flaws and insecurities he feels deep inside himself. He sees you as an angel, a pure and radiant being who somehow chose to share your life with him, despite his own imperfections and inner demons.

He sees you as an angel in a human form, who chose to live among the devils, just so he could feel the heavenly touch for the first and last time in all eternity.

He often wonders how he, with all his rough edges, hidden scars, and a past life without a happy memory, could be worthy of your love. He feels like a monster, haunted by past mistakes and burdened by the weight of his own fears and failings. You, on the other hand, are everything he aspires to be - kind, compassionate, and endlessly forgiving. Your presence in his life is a constant reminder of the beauty and grace that he lacks, and yet, your love makes him strive to be better, to rise above his darkness and become someone worthy of your affection.

In his heart, he knows that your love is transforming him, helping him to heal and grow. Your existence is a light that dispels his inner darkness, a reminder for him to cherish that even monsters like him can be loved. He clings to this, that your love is making him a better man, one day at a time.

01. THE PARTY

The Slytherin common room was full of shadows and flickering lights, transformed into a wild moment of freedom for the night. The music, a thundering beat that echoed off the stone walls, could be heard from miles away, yet no professor or ghost visited the common room to cancel the party. It was as if the ancient castle itself had granted this one night of freedom to its most cunning and ambitious students. The rhythmic thrum of bass notes and the infectious melody of the latest wizarding hits filled the air, blending with the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses.

Bodies moved in a hypnotic dance, swaying in sync with the music. The students had discarded their usual aloof demeanors and uniforms, lost in the euphoria and joy of the moment. Green and silver decorations adorned every surface, shimmering under the enchanted lights that hung from the ceiling like glowing jewels. Laughter rang out, high and clear, mingling with the deep, resonant hum of conversation.

In one corner, a group of seventh years huddled together, their heads bent close in a whisper, before erupting into loud laughter. Nearby, a couple twirled around each other, their bodies intertwining like dark waves, eyes locked in their private world amidst the chaos around them. The fireplace, usually a place of quiet contemplation, was now surrounded by students perched on its stone ledge, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the night and alcohol.

Long tables filled with food and drink stretched along one wall, bearing the weight of a feast other students could be jealous of. Platters of magical meals, charmed to stay warm, smelled of aromas that mingled with the scent of butterbeer and stronger beverages. Bottles of firewhisky and elf-made wine were passed from hand to hand, each sip fueling the atmosphere more and more as drunken the students got. The alcohol flowed freely, loosening tongues, transforming even the shyest students into party animals of the night.

The Slytherin common room had never felt so alive. Tonight, they were not just the students of Hogwarts; they were a family, united by their house and their understanding of what it meant to be a Slytherin.

Mattheo Riddle was one of those students who were enjoying themselves tonight. His breathing features were illuminated by the green lights as he leaned casually against a stone wall, a cup of firewhisky filled to the brim in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed perilously close to the edge with each of his slowed gestures, but Mattheo seemed unconcerned, clearly lost in the haze of alcohol. His dark curls, usually styled in the way that made uncountable amount of girls fall on their knees, now fell loose around his face as you watched from a close distance.

He was engaged in a drunken conversation with Theodore Nott, whose tall, lanky frame was the opposite to Mattheo's more athletic build. Theo's typically serious demeanor had softened, his features relaxed into a rare, genuine smile as he listened to Mattheo's ramblings with a giggle threatening to spill out from his lips. The two of them, often seen together, now looked like true brothers. It was almost scary how much they resembled family when they were drunk.

Mattheo's voice, rich and slightly slurred, carried over the music as he recounted a particularly outrageous story from his recent fight. Theodore threw his head back and laughed. It was clear to anyone how close those two boys were, drunk or sober.

"Can you believe he actually thought I was serious?" Mattheo snickered with a big grin stretching across his face, taking a swig from his cup, the whiskey burning a warm path down his throat. "I mean, I barely managed to keep a straight face!"

Theodore laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a menace, Riddle. One of these days, you're going to get expelled."

"Ah, but tonight isn't that night, mate," Mattheo replied with a slow wink, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To living dangerously and laughing in the face of consequences!"

They clinked their cups together, the sound barely audible over the throbbing beat of the music and you thought now was the best time to approach your boyfriend.

Mattheo's brown irises scanned the crowd, catching a look of you as you pushed your way through the crowd of dancing bodies. The sight of you instantly brightened his expression and a genuine smile spread across his face. He felt a rush of emotions that the whiskey in his hand only intensified, each beat of his heart echoing with the certainty that what he held for you was pure love. The Slytherin straightened up, his posture shifting from the casual slouch of a carefree boy to the attentive stance of a man. Theodore noticed the change and a knowing smirk made its appearance on his lips as he stepped aside, giving the two of you a moment of privacy.

"[Name]," your boyfriend called out, his voice full of warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you came closer. "There you are, love."

You beamed up at him, your eyes reflecting the party's enchanted lights, making them look like twin stars. "Having fun, are we?" you teased and the tone of your voice carried a playful match that always managed to make his heart skip a beat.

"Only now that you're here," he replied. The world around you seemed to blur as he gazed down at you, all the noise and chaos fading into the background. "You make everything better."

Drunk on both the whiskey and his overwhelming affection, the boy's usual reservations melted away. He held you close, his hands resting on your waist as if anchoring himself to your presence. When he was sober or feeling down at heart, his love for you was often hidden beneath layers of stoicism and insecurity, but now, in this moment of happy drunkenness, it shone through.

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips, enjoying the sweetness of the contact. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve you, but I'm going to spend every day trying to be worthy of your love."

“You have no idea what you mean to me. I look at you and . . . it’s like you’re the sun and I’m just a planet orbiting around you, soaking up your light,” he continued without a break. The boy wanted to get every one of his words out as fast as humanly possible. To show you his hidden feelings he wasn't able to tell you before. “You’re my everything, [Name]. I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re so kind, so . . . good. And me? I’m just . . . I’m a mess, you know? A monster sometimes.”

You shook your head lightly and took his hands into your own, enveloping him with your warmth. He was starting to get emotional, and you didn't need to have your boyfriend drunkenly mopping around. His mood changed like weather when alcohol got involved. “You’re not a monster, Mattheo. You’re human. We all have our demons.”

“But you,” he didn't allow you to finish your sentence before he spoke up again, his voice raw with sincerity, “you make me want to be better. For you. I see you, and I just want to be the man you deserve. I’m not always good at it, but I try. I try because you’re worth it.”

You could see the glazed look in his eyes as he swayed slightly on the spot. He was rough around the edges, you couldn't deny the truth, but he was the sweetest boy when he managed to fall in love. Which wasn't exactly difficult, Mattheo fell in love easily. But when he did, it was worth everything. Mattheo was your sweet boy. “Love,” you said softly to him, your voice filled with gentle concern to the brim, “you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Maybe it’s time to slow down a little, okay?”

Mattheo blinked, giving you a lopsided grin, his expression a mix of boyish charm and pure happiness. “But I’m fine, [nickname]. I feel great. Better than great, actually. With you here, everything’s perfect.”

“I know you’re having a good time, but I don’t want you to feel terrible tomorrow. Let’s take a break from the firewhisky for now, alright?”

He pouted slightly, his shoulders slumping as he realized you were actually serious. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “But only because you’re asking me.” You chuckled softly at his behavior, threading your fingers through his and gently leading him away from the dancing crowd. You navigated through the common room, moving towards a quieter corner of the space where a plush couch sat, inviting you both in with open arms. The room’s enchantments cast soft shadows on the walls, the flickering lights creating a soothing atmosphere.

“Here, sit down,” you instructed as you guided him to sit on the couch. Mattheo obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. You sat beside him, your hand never leaving his. You took the half-empty cup of whiskey from his hold, reaching for a glass of water on the table nearby instead and handing it to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Mattheo took the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He took a long sip, the cool water a welcome relief from the heat of the alcohol he consumed. “You really do take good care of me, don’t you?” he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch as he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and exhaustion.

“Someone has to,” you replied playfully, brushing a stray curl of hair from his forehead. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

As the night wore on, Mattheo felt a warmth spreading through him that was only partly due to the whiskey. It was the warmth of belonging, of being surrounded by friends who understood and accepted him, flaws and all. Despite his often rough exterior, he was deeply grateful for these moments, these stolen hours of joy in the corners of the Slytherin common room.

02 - THE MARK

The past has a profound power to shape a man, especially when that past is influenced by suffering at the hands of a father.

For Mattheo Riddle, his family history was the darkest shadow of all the shadows that clung to him, a reminder of the pain and fear that had molded his entire life. Raised in a home devoid of warmth, where love was a foreign concept and cruelty was a daily reality, Mattheo had learned to build tall and thick walls around his heart. A shield to protect him from more hurt that would come his way.

The orphanage was a harsh place, stripped of the luxuries the boy had unknowingly been born into. It was a world of strict discipline and a poor form of affection. The caretakers, overwhelmed and underfunded, had little patience for a child with such a notorious legacy. Mattheo grew up under the weight of whispers and sideways glances, the infamous name "Riddle" ensuring he was never just another child. The women of the orphanage knew his father, having taken care of him when he was around the same age as his son. What a wicked child Tom was. Mattheo was different because of that, marked, and this awareness shaped his formative years in ways he could barely comprehend.

As he grew older, the whispers about his family name became more pronounced. The children at the orphanage were cruel. “Monster,” they called him, creating the very fears that nested within his own heart. He began to internalize these taunts, seeing himself through the lens of his father's sins. The idea that he could be worthy of love seemed more and more distant, more of a fantasy that had no place in his reality. But the same idea of letting someone see past his defenses, of allowing someone to love him despite his flaws, seemed not only impossible but dangerous. For how could anyone love a monster, especially one crafted by his own father?

Despite this, Mattheo yearned for something more. He longed for the kind of love he had never known, a love that was gentle and kind, that saw past his scars and accepted him for who he was. But every time he felt himself getting close to someone, the fear surged up, a wave of doubt and self-loathing washed over him and forced him to retreat behind his walls again. It was a never-ending cycle.

Hogwarts had saved him.

Mattheo Riddle’s first steps into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were met with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and apprehension. For the other students, he was a figure of whispered rumors, his infamous last name carrying with it a weight of fear and fascination. They had heard the stories of his father’s dark acts, of the legacy that haunted the halls of the castle like a ghost. But for Mattheo himself, Hogwarts represented a new beginning, a chance to escape the personal hell he called the orphanage and create his own path. The boy was no longer just another orphan. Here, he could be anything he wanted to be.

He wasn't deaf. The young boy could feel the weight of his father’s name bearing down on him like an invisible burden. And he wasn't blind either. He saw the way the other students looked at him, their eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and suspicion. They didn’t openly taunt him as the children in the orphanage had done, but he could sense the whispers and the wary glances that followed him wherever he went. For Mattheo, however, their fear was a source of power. He reveled in the attention, in the way his presence commanded respect, even if it was tinged with fear. He was finally someone.

He excelled in his classes, his natural talent and restless ambition setting him apart from his peers. But it was on the Quidditch pitch that Mattheo truly came into his own. Flying high above the castle grounds, he felt a sense of freedom unlike anything he had ever known. With every twist and turn of his broomstick, he left behind the weight of his past and embraced the thrill of the present, making him feel like a bird.

Six years had passed since Mattheo Riddle first walked through the grand doors of Hogwarts, a hopeful and determined young wizard with dreams of greatness he was so sure he'd achieve. But now, as he entered his sixth year at the renowned school of magic, the world around him had shifted irrevocably. The return of Lord Voldemort two years prior had plunged the wizarding world into chaos, and with it, Mattheo’s life had been destroyed once again.

Even among his fellow Slytherins, Mattheo felt like an outsider, a traitor to his own house and everything it stood for. He had once prided himself on his ambition and cunning, on his unwavering determination to succeed at any cost. But it didn't matter anymore.

Mattheo sat alone in the quiet atmosphere of the Astronomy Tower, his gaze fixed on the night sky that sparkled with millions of stars. Each twinkling light seemed to mock him, making fun of the darkness that now stained his soul even more than before. His fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket tightly, as if seeking some comfort in the fabric, but finding none.

On his left forearm, the Dark Mark burned like a brand upon his skin. It was a mark of shame, of betrayal, and every time he looked upon it, he felt a sickening sense of disgust and self-loathing. He had thought that by aligning himself with the Dark Lord, his father, he would finally be able to escape the shadows of his past, to prove himself worthy of the name Riddle and his father's presence. But now, he realized that he had only succeeded in plunging himself deeper into the deep hole. Even the orphanage was better than this.

The footsteps behind him shattered the sweet silence, echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Mattheo tensed, his heart racing as he turned to face the intruder, steeling himself for whatever judgment or punishment awaited him. But as he turned, he was met not with the accusing glare of Filch or the triumphant sneer of a rival, but with the concerned gaze of a familiar face. It was you, with your eyes filled with worry as you approached him slowly, as if he'd disappear if you were a bit louder.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you alright?”

No, he wasn't alright. But he would be caught dead sooner than having you worry about him like that and more.

He forced a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the emotions raging within him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining the facade. “Just . . . thinking.”

You stepped closer, taking a seat on the ground beside him. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mattheo. I know something’s been troubling you lately. You can talk to me.”

You were his angel, full of that purity and light he adored about you in a world darkened by his own sins. He longed to confide in you, to unburden himself of the guilt and shame that had consumed him since he had received the Dark Mark. But the fear of your rejection, of you seeing him for the monster he believed himself to be, held him back. It would shatter his heart, to see the pained expression on your face.

“I . . .” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the words, "there's something I need to show you." With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Mattheo finally mustered the courage to reveal the truth to you. For months, he had carried the burden of the dark secret alone, pushing you out and shutting you down in an attempt to shield and protect you from the darkness that was his father. But now, as he sat before you, his heart and his soul laid bare, he knew that he could no longer hide from the truth. The boy reached for the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers fumbling as he pushed the fabric up to reveal the twisted lines of the Dark Mark etched upon his skin. The sight of it made him recoil, a wave of shame washing over him as he exposed his deepest, darkest secret to the one person he had sworn to protect.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the mark, your palm flying to your mouth in disbelief. For a long moment, there was silence between the two of you, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing and the distant hum of the night owls.

“I received this a few weeks ago," Mattheo confessed, his eyes avoiding yours. "When he decided I was good enough for him."

He felt your gaze on him, eyes searching his face for answers. He could see the confusion and concern written in your expression, but beneath it all, he saw something else - a flicker of understanding and acceptance that filled him with both hope and fear. How can someone be so good to someone like him? "I've been living with the Malfoys ever since," he continued, the words tumbling out in a rush as he struggled to explain himself. "But it's not what you think, [Name]. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a part of his plans, to be branded as one of his followers. But I had no choice. He made me do it."

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, and he felt a desperate plea for forgiveness in his chest. He needed you to understand, to see past the mistakes that consumed him and into the depths of his soul where his love for you burned bright and true. The thought of losing you hurt him more than the Cruciatus curse ever could.

“Forgive me. For shutting you out, for pushing you away. I was scared, I was ashamed . . . but I can't bear to keep this secret from you any longer. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means losing you forever."

Your heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of sorrow as you gazed upon Mattheo, your sweet boy, sitting there before you with tears in his eyes and the weight of the world upon his shoulders. In that moment, all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and shield him from the pain and darkness that threatened to consume him. With shaky hands, you reached out to him, fingers brushing against the mark of his father's followers etched upon his skin. The sight of it filled you with a fit of fierce anger, but beneath it all, you saw the boy you so dearly loved - a boy who had been shaped by his past but who was so much more than the picture of his scars.

"Love," you whispered into the dark, taking his face into your hands and wiping away those tears that managed to escape his control, "there's nothing to forgive. Nothing in this world could ever tear us apart, not even your father or that mark."

In that moment, Mattheo knew that he would do anything for you, that he would move heaven and earth to ensure your happiness and safety. You were his light in the darkness, his angel in a world filled with demons, and he would cherish that for the time being his heart swelled at the thought of you. You were simply too sweet for him and you knew that Mattheo’s struggles were far from over, but for tonight, that was enough.

588 notes · View notes

onyourowndaisymae · 11 months

Text

don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer (you are here) // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel // belphie -- NSFW warning below, gn!reader

lucifer, who would never say no to lord diavolo. he wasn't exactly fond of the whole "exchange program" idea, knowing the power imbalance between the three realms, but lord diavolo had his heart set on bringing humans and angels into the devildom. lucifer could only do his best to make sure things would go smoothly. the weakest member-- some human devoid of magical skills or means to defend themselves, unlike the other applicants-- would be living in the house of lamentation, where him and his brothers could make sure you at least survived the whole program. he's not exactly pleased by the whole thing (and hiding belphegor away for the whole year will certainly be taxing, both mentally and emotionally) but, whatever the prince wants...

lucifer, who doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. he doesn't like how you're cozying up to his brothers, wrapping them around your fingers with pacts, avoiding his eyes as he watches your interactions. make no mistake. you're here on the whims of lord diavolo, but that doesn't mean he has to be nice to you. just keep your head down and you'll survive. oh-- and don't make meddling in his family's affairs a habit. he will not hesitate even a moment to get rid of you if he perceives you as a threat.

lucifer, who is quite popular. even though he makes only a minimal effort to socialize with others (he's far too busy with student council work to cultivate a large group of friends), nobles and common folk alike flock to him. this, in turn, brings forward a lot of romantic attention. it's not uncommon for at least one demon a week to confess their undying love to him-- something he politely yet firmly declines. but it's foolish to assume that a man such as him doesn't have needs or desires. lucifer oozes sex appeal with just a heated glance, and most of the time he doesn't even need to speak before the demon in his sights is crossing the room at lord diavolo's party to meet with him. he politely excuses himself from the prince's side to escort the lucky demon somewhere private. there's no romance in his touches, but there is passion, all lust and want, as he uses his teeth to yank his glove off and roughly caresses the demon's quivering sex. he's not above using spit as lubrication, it falling from his lips with husky taunts as he lines himself up with their hole, now thoroughly slick with with their juices and his saliva, pushing in carefully as to not cause any pain. his gloved hand clamps over their mouth while the exposed one reaches forward to toy with their sex. he groans when they clench around him, then buries his face in their neck as he begins to fuck them from behind into a wall, or bookshelf, or whatever's closest. he murmurs filth in their ear as he fucks them ruthlessly, their muffled cries of pleasure meeting and dying against his palm. they continue until he's satisfied, until cum dribbles out of their tight hole and forms creamy rings around the base of his cock. he pulls their underwear up with a swat against their ass and tells them not to make a mess that barbatos will have to clean later. he stalks off to find a bathroom to freshen up in-- if they're lucky, they'll hear from him again in the future.

lucifer, who can set his pride aside for you. you've wormed your way into his heart, somehow, charming him during the exchange program with a combination of persistence and genuine care. he won't admit he's smitten, for he is far too proud to bicker with his brothers for your attention. you'll have to see it yourself. notice the way he looks at you from across the room and acknowledges you with a nod, or the brush of his hand against your arm as he passes you in the hallway, or the way he'll decline a call just to hear you speak a little longer. his ballroom rendezvous cease almost instantaneously, without his notice-- the demons may try to catch his eye again, but his ruby gaze never strays from you, from watching you sway in his arms on the dancefloor. he's head over heels. fuck, he's so in love with you it hurts. nights like these peel back the layers of the avatar of pride and let the rest of the world get a glimpse at the sides of him reserved just for you. all for you.

lucifer, who loves nights like these. the two of you are intertwined in his office, you sat on his lap as he sips lazily at a mixture of demonus and gold hellfire newt syrup. his blood pumps loudly in his ears but all he can see is you. you don't give him a command to cancel the syrup's effects, but he doesn't mind-- you command him with your hands, with your eyes as you run your fingers along his body. his crawl up your side before cradling the back of your head, pulling you into a heated kiss. your body melts into his like wax under a flame, conforming to the curves and planes of his body like they were made for you, fuck, Father must have made him for you. why else would you feel so perfect in his arms? why else would he have been damned, fallen from the celestial realm for defending love between human and a supernatural being, fated to experience it himself? there's an invisible string tying the two of you together. he wears it like a badge of honor. he'd let you tie him up with it if you kept grinding your hips against his like that, tongue lapping at the skin of his throat as you mark him. he can't bring himself to care about the taunts he'll endure tomorrow. lord diavolo's curious looks and pointed questions mean nothing when he has you on top of him. he's drunk on your love, surely, demonus and syrup blended in his veins paling in comparison to the love he has for you. he'd do it all again, fall to hell, lose his life if it meant you'd moan like that as he scissors his fingers in your hole, wet with your intertwined saliva, his precum, and your slick, the juices glinting in the firelight as he pushes them in and out of you. he won't stop until you're cumming around his fingers. he'd normally toy with you longer, but he's honestly so overwhelmed by the heat of your love that he feels he might fully go insane if he's not inside you within the next minute. you align yourself over his weeping cock and ease yourself down. he moans, loudly, enough for someone nearby to hear. lucifer doesn't give a shit. your hands find his and your fingers intertwine, stabilizing you enough to begin lovingly, carefully bouncing yourself on his cock. he's been thoroughly damned, that he's sure of, but this is truly the closest thing to heaven he'll ever see again-- your love is worth a thousand angels, a million glimpses into the celestial realm. and it's all his, just as he's all yours.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #om nb #obey me smut #otome #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer smut

2K notes · View notes

afriendlyblackhottie · 3 months

Text

One or the Other

Pairings: Steve Rogers x female!reader x Sebastian Stan

Summary: after hooking up with Bucky and not telling Steve, you’ve been letting the guilt get to you. Good thing bad it doesn’t have to.

Warnings: minors dni, smut, perceived cheating, manipulation, knotting, unprotected sex, non con, oral sex, Daddy kink

[A/N: yaaaay finally. Lmao I rewrote this so many times so omg I’m happy it’s finally done I hope all of you like it 😀☺️ this is unedited as I write it on tumblr’s writing thing and autocorrect is ass and and I… make mistakes lmao. Please don’t forget to like and comment. If you really really like it I’m taking tips CA: $allieday27 & PP: @allieafbh. Thanks so much for reading guys. You know I love coming back to you 💜 ✌🏾)

————————————————-

“He wouldn’t what?”

This time Steve said it with a scoff, as the words had just come from his boyfriend’s lips. Don’t even know how you’d gotten to this topic. Definitely didn’t feel appropriate for the dinner table even if you were at the point where the bill was being paid. Especially not the swanky restaurant they’d had you sitting in all dressed up like you were their shared date.

Hell they’d all but asked for that anyway. Had told you they were taking you out and to be ready by seven. It’d been about a month since you’d started living with them anyway. Bucky had clearly meant it when he said he liked the housewife look on you as it self like that’d pretty much had been what you’d become.

Who else would become the lady of the house if not for the lady of the house. Especially as they’d kept you sleeping in between them. Had been feeling bad for their lack of intimacy even, but they insisted it was fine.

It wasn’t like the three of you hadn’t talked about sex before. Sure you hadn’t gone into detail, but you’d never call yourself a prude. Normally. But all of that was before Bucky had tasted your pussy. Before Steve had started kissing you goodnight every single night as the two of you fell asleep on the same bed.

And now like that first night it was Steve’s turn to find out your dirty little secret. That you’d been dating a man who wouldn’t do what his boyfriend easily did. Behind his back. And fuck it made you feel like the worst kind of person.

“Tell him, Y/N,” Bucky insisted, as if it was pressing news, but after they’d scared him shitless when they went to retrieve your things the day before they’d been a little hyped off their own egos.

“I mean… yeah… I know but-,”

“But what?” Steve laughed. “I just never took you as the type to settle.”

You crinkled your nose at his words. Looking over at Bucky who seemed just as curious to hear your answer. “I mean what can I say, it wasn’t like he was bad in bad necessarily he just said he didn’t like it.” You tried excusing it away. Not exactly wanting to be the topic of conversation anymore.

Bucky and Steve looked to one another. Sharing a knowing glance before Steve reached over to place his hand over yours. “Any man would be lucky to eat your pussy.”

“Steve!” You gasped, ripping your hand away from him. Looking around to make sure no one heard as the two of them laughed. So unlike him anyway. What happened to the reserved sweetheart the world had come to love.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His laughter slowed to light hearted chuckles. “But I mean it.” He shrugged. “Right, Bucky?”

Who was the best and worst person to ask this question to. Your face heating up as he smirked at you. Making you squirm under his icy gaze. “Definitely, Doll.”

You crossed your arms, looking away from the both of them to try and gather your thoughts. Could feel their eyes on you as they changed the conversation. Already feeling cruddy enough that you’d let your best friends boyfriend touch you like that or that you hadn’t been able to get it out of your head since it happened.

The annoying craving you hadn’t been able to shake of wanting him to do it again, but maybe even more. Maybe even worse. Had been craving the way he talked at you. Which was making all of this really difficult right now.

As you looked back over to them you saw them do these little smiles before pecking each others lips. The romantic gesture causing your heart to ache a little. Which was so annoying as you’d never felt like that before. My how things can change in a month.

“Where you going?” Came from my mouth as soon as Steve stood up.

“Bathroom. Why you gonna miss me?” He teased.

“Definitely,” you mumbled as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. The spot tingling as he walked away. Bucky still keeping his eyes on you as if he was being paid to baby sit you.

“Did I tell you, you look nice tonight?” He said after a few moments of silence. As if he didn’t know. Before you left the house him and Steve had called you pretty so many times you were scared it was adding to your ego.

“Once or twice,” you replied, face feeling hot. Not that you wanted him to affect you like this.

Bucky looked his lips before they turned up in a smile. “What do you wanna do after this?” He asked. “Too pretty for us to just take you home. Gotta show you off.”

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Besides I’m getting kinda tired.” He narrowed his eyes before standing up. Coming to sit on the same side as you in the empty booth. “What are you doing?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Tired my ass. Come on, Doll. What do you wanna do? We could go dancing or maybe get some ice cream,” he named off before stopping. “Actually… that ice cream sounds really good.” He hummed before bringing his lips close to your ear. “Maybe I could eat it off of ya?”

“Bucky!” You smacked his leg making him laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Doll.” He didn’t stop his laughter, “but actually that doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea.”

You glared at him as he smirked. Clearly proud of himself for his ability to make you squirm. If anything it was only egging him on. Wanted to see how far he could push you.

“Remind me to schedule an ice cream date for us one of these days,” he said, placing a hand on your thighs. The dress you were wearing was the one they helped you pick it when they took you shopping. Said you couldn’t wear any of the rags you wore on dates with Bryce while with them. As if it had bothered them before.

They weren’t lying when they said it had hugged four curves real well. Made you look like a grown woman. Could have sworn you saw Bucky’s pants get a little tighter when you modeled it for them. Now he was feeling all up on you without a care in the world when his partner could have come back at any moment.

“Fuck, Doll, you’re the prettiest fucking girl in his place,” he whispered in your ear. Free hand grabbing onto yours as the other moved circles on your thigh.

“Bucky,” you whimpered out. Already feeling like putty under his touch. “We can’t.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said before kissing the side of your neck.

“What if he comes back,” you turned to him.

“We’re. Not. Doing. Anything,” he whispered in your ear again. Hands creeping dangerously close to your center. “See. I’m not the only one that thinks it’s insane that your boyfriend wasn’t eating you out. I ate you out once and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

A soft gasp left your mouth as he kissed your neck again. As if there wasn’t anyone that could see the two of you in a restaurant full of people. It was like he didn’t care. Worse then that he was giving you exactly what you’d been wanting and you did not want him stopping even though this was the last thing either of you needed to be doing.

“But what about Steve?” You gasped out. “We can’t just-,”

“Steve’s fine,” he cut you off. “I think you wanna get caught. You naughty little-,”

“Alright you two ready to go?” Steve came back finally coming to sit on the side he’d already been occupying. Bucky was pulling away like shit didn’t happen

“Yeah. We were just thinking about what we should do after this,” Bucky sobered up. “What do you say doll. Keep it innocent and let us take you out for ice cream.”

And this man damn well knew he was far from innocent.

——————————————————

From the ice cream shop you were happy they were letting you call it a night. Not that you hadn’t been having fun, but you were definitely going to need a cold shower or something. Something felt strange about touching yourself while in their bed even when they weren’t home and right now you could use some kind of relief.

Had gotten off a few times in the shower but it just wasn’t the same. Even in the bathtub it was like none of it was ever enough. Funny how after all that time with Bryce you’d never felt this desperate but Bucky tongue fucks you and turns you into an addict and he hadn’t even made you cum yet.

“Damn, you’re making a big mess,” Bucky laughed as the ice cream dripped off onto your chest. Wanting to not chance it getting on your dress. “Gonna have to buy you a bib next.”

You glared at him before trying to smack his shoulder only for him to grab your hand. “Hey!” Not that he cared as he overpowered you. Leaning down so he could lick up the sticky liquid. “Bucky!”

Steve laughed beside the two of you. Shaking his head. “Gotta be tastier than eating it off the cone.”

You glared at him, but before you could say anything, Bucky grabbed the cone to hit it against your chest. The cold making you jump as Steve’s laughter increased. “Want a taste?” Bucky offered.

“Hey!” You protested, standing up. Looking down at the now dairy covered fabric. “What the hell!”

“Chill, Doll. We’re just messing around.” He laughed.

"I’m just gonna go shower,” you walked off to the guest room that had been used for your clothes that no one had bothered to make fine for you to sleep in. Regretting it tonight since you definitely needed some kind of alone time.

As you’d gathered your things to go to the bathroom you groaned seeing the door closed with the light on underneath. Fucking nice. “You ok?” Steve’s voice came from behind you making you jump. A smile turning up on his lips as you put your hands on your sticky chest cringing at the feeling. “Bucky got you pretty good, huh.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled.

“Come on. I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

“It’s fine. I’m gonna shower anyway.”

“I know, but just… let me help you, Doll.”

With that you followed him to the kitchen where he grabbed a towel to wet it. Gabbing it along your chest as you reached up to take it. “I can do it,” you said, but found yourself faltering as he looked into your eyes.

“I know, but I like taking care of you. Me and Bucky. We both do,” he said softly. “We hope you like it too.”

You nodded, lost in his gaze as he kept dabbing along your chest. “I mean I do, but-,” you stopped.

“But, what? You know you can talk to me.”

But I’ve been messing around with your boyfriend on the low? Felt so strange trying to come out and just say it. Even if you should have. “I know,” you whispered. With his half smile he leaned in to kiss your cheek. Letting his lips linger on your skin. “Steve, I…” you trailed off, chest feeling heavy. Bad enough Bucky had already worked you up.

“Talk to me, Doll,” he whispered lips close to yours now. His breath fanning against your skin.

“You know what we need?” Bucky’s voice boomed as he came into the room, making you fling yourself away. Steve stood there sober as hell still with a smirk on his face. Fuck it was like the two of them were trying to give you whiplash.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asked.

“We are way too sober. I’ll just run to the liquor store real quick.”

Yeah cuz that’s what the three of you needed. Alcohol.

—————————————————-

That shower really didn’t do much to curb the invasive thoughts you were having. Or the aching between your thighs. Had been feeling so pent up that it was no wonder you couldn’t get it together.

Bucky was still gone and Steve was holding two records in his hand. “What do you think, Doll?” He asked holding up the two options.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mumbled.

Steve hummed in response before deciding for himself. Music soon filling the room after. Not like you hadn’t grown to like their 1940’s tastes as much as they’d been willing for you to show them your own music.

He sat down beside you. The two of you letting the music play around you as you lost yourself in thought. Had been trying to take your eyes off of his broad shoulders or anything else that might make your mouth water.

Sat through the first song, still not speaking until the next one started up. “Oh! You have to dance with me,” Steve blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Dance with me? Please.” He stood up, holding out his hand.

With a sigh you nodded. Taking his hand in yours so he could help you up. Even if you thought it was the last thing you should be doing. Ignoring the sparks that shot through your arm. Besides it was only a dance.

Steve snugly wrapped his arms around you, chin going to the top of your head. “This is nice,” he said, swaying back and forth with you.

Could feel how strong he was like this. Had gotten used to this in bed but it wasn’t like Bucky wasn’t right there. Had never felt all of him all alone.

Sure you’d hugged before, but guess you’d never felt so small next to him before. Your head starting to swim as if you’d had more to drink. Guess the two glasses of wine at dinner were starting to get to you.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Steve asked, trying to force you to make conversation somehow. His insistence making you crack a smile as you’d had found yourself a little too comfortable in his chest.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Until Bucky got ice cream on my dress.”

He laughed at that. “Well, to be fair, it did look pretty tasty.”

You looked up at him. Face all scrunched up. “You’re not supposed to agree!”

Another laugh left his lips as he looked down at you. “What do you want me to say.”

“I don’t know!” You rolled your eyes. “Go, hey, Y/N, sorry my boyfriend’s such an ass and spilled ice cream all over your tits.”

It only made him laugh more. “Well first of all, watch your mouth, Doll. And second it was only ice cream.”His words made your head jerk back. Except his arms tightened around you so you couldn’t step away. “Besides we had fun anyway.”

He rubbed his hands up and down your back. The spot he touched feeling so hot even through the t-shirt you were wearing. Not like he wasn’t right. Had been enjoying yourself you just felt so tense with the sneaking.

“We did,” you agreed.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head. Going back to putting your cheek against his chest. “Just tired,” you mumbled.

“Aw, Honey.” He cooed, placing a kiss on your forehead. The spot tingling once again. “Guess I’m just surprised, though. Since the two of you had been fucking I’m surprised you’re so shy.”

With that said, it felt like someone had punched you in the gut. A sharp intake of air as if you’d been plunged into the Arctic. “Steve, we didn’t-,”

He laughed. “What? You didn’t think I’d know? Didn’t think I’d notice him touching you under the covers every night.”

“What? We haven’t.” You shook your head. “We- we didn’t. Not like that,” feeling yourself panicking.

Steve finally let you out of his hold but made sure to grab your hand. “Calm down, Doll,” he laughed. What the hell. “It’s ok.”

“I just- I’ve been wanting to tell you- and I’m sorry- I… I…,” you struggled to get the words out, “I promise I wanted to tell you i just-,”

“Doll, it’s. Fine.” Emphasizing each word. Bringing you back into him so his hands could go to your hips. “Can’t believe you didn’t think I’d already know. Think Buck wouldn’t have told me?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. He never said- I mean we never really talked about it,” you said, feeling that familiar prickle in your eyes as you tried to hold in your tears. “It just… happened. I promise it was only once… kind of. And-,”

“Doll,” he pressed. “It’s okay.” With that pulling you over to the couch. Taking. A seat and pulling you down with him. Right on his lap. “What you don’t believe me?” He asked, putting his hand on your cheek. Stroking it with his thumb. “If it wasn’t alright you wouldn’t be here, Baby.” He chuckled. “Especially after all that Bryce shit.”

“I just… I don’t know what I would have done without you both, ya know.” Your voice cracked as a tear slid down your face. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go and-,”

“Hey,” he whispered. Hooking a finger under your chin to make you look at him. “Relax.” Catching you off guard as he placed his lips on your cheek. The warmth of him making you melt. “That’s it. That’s our girl. My girl.”

Breath hitching in your throat. “Steve…” you couldn’t help yourself as you said his name. Brain already feeling too fuzzy.

The blond licked his lips while glancing down at yours. “What is it, Baby? Tell me what you want.”

“I’m just… thankful,” was all you could muster.

Steve chuckled. “Oh come on. I think you and I both know what you want.”

Your bottom lip quivered. “I don’t-,”

But, before you could say finish he cut you off with a kiss. At first you sat on his lap frozen. Even as your heart fluttered. Not like any girl wouldn’t get like this from kissing Captain America.

Which was the problem. You weren’t supposed to be like the rest of them. “We can’t,” you forced yourself to move away.

“Says who?” He scoffed.

“I don’t get you two,” you abruptly stood up before he could react. “What was this whole thing some kind of long con to fuck me.” You stood in front of him with your arms crossed.

He shook his head. Standing up with you. “Of course not. Even if we- look if you didn’t want this, none of this would change. The problem is I know you want it. Stop pretending you don’t.”

With that his hands were back to pulling you close. Arms still folded in front of you. Not like you could deny it.

“I can fucking smell how wet you are, Doll,” he whispered in your ear. “Think Daddy doesn’t know how horny you’ve been for him.”

Your jaw dropped at that. Never thought you’d hear words like that coming from Steve of all people. So quickly too you hadn’t even-

“Steve-,”

“Nuh uh,” he said, not caring anymore as his hands went down to your ass. You jumped closer to him. That only made him smile again. “Don’t bullshit me, Baby. I can fucking smell it on you.” He laughed. “How fucking wet you are. That you’re ovulating. Bet if I touched you right now you’d cream all over.”

“Steve!” You gasped. Could not believe you’d been hearing such vulgarity from Steve of all people. Or… huh.

“But am I wrong?” He came back to sit. This time instead of sitting, you straddled him. Feeling his bulge press into your center. The sensation making you yelp.

Didn’t even get the chance to answer him as he put his hands under your ass. Gripping the flesh in his palms. Not caring as you twitched up as you came back down on top of him.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know him and Bucky are attracted to women. Just had never expected them to be attracted to you. Yet there you were on top of one after the other had gone down on you. The other positioning you right over his dick that you could tell by the feeling would no way fit inside of you.

Yet as a moan fell from your lips, you know you were definitely a goner. The point of no return and then some. “That’s right. Why are you trying to play like you don’t want it, Baby. Knew you weren’t going to say no to me.”

“Steve-,” you couldn’t help it as you whimpered out.

“Unless you’re going to beg for my dick right now I don’t want to fucking hear it,” he growled. “Getting sick of your fucking mouth.”

Another whimper coming from you. Don’t know why you would be reacting to him like this after he talked to you like that. Something about it making you want to do as he said. Listen. Be good.

“That’s my girl, huh,” he whispered. “That’s my puppy isn’t it. You’re always such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you?” He hissed.

It was all happening so quickly. No chance to react as he started kissing you again. This time not pulling away. Wrapping your arms around his neck. Hands still massaging your ass.

Wasn’t long before you were flipped on your back with him hovering on top of you. Hooking your leg over his hip. Moaning into his mouth as he ground his crotch into yours.

His tongue fighting yours for dominance even though you were already sure of your role. He’d get his way. Already had. Wasn’t like you wanted to tell him no.

Steve pulled away so he could kiss down your neck. “Cant believe that asshole wouldn’t eat you out,” he said. “All I can fucking think about and he wouldn’t do it? Fucking loser.” Had never heard him talk like this before, but you’d be lying if you said it had no effect on you.

“Steve,” You whimpered.

“Ah ah ah, that’s not what you call me. Say it right or I’ll stop.”

No. He can’t stop why would he stop! Doesn’t he see that he was making you come undone so easily. Didn’t it mean anything to him. “I don’t- I - Daddy,” You remembered.

Steve smirked. “That’s a good girl. Take this shit off.” Barely giving you the chance to react as he yanked you up so he could pull your shirt off in one fell swoop. Breasts on full display as he licked his chops. “Fuck,” he said before leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Daddy!” You mewled from the contact as he made a show of circling his tongue around one of the nub.

“That’s it. Fuck. You little slut. Have you been sleeping between us without a bra on this whole time,” he asked taking it between his teeth.

“I can’t sleep with one on,” you sounded so goddamn whiny, but you couldn’t help it.

“You don’t have to lie, Doll. You been waiting for me to taste you, huh?”

Not that it was your plan, but shit you kind of wish it had been been. “I didn’t mean to,” you whimpered.

“Didn’t mean to what? First you didn’t mean to fuck my boyfriend and now you didn’t mean for me to fuck you?”

“He didn’t!” You protested.

Steve got back on his knees. Grabbing your cheeks in his hand. “What did I say about you watching your damn mouth?” He asked. Teeth barred, eyes narrow. Looking like he was ready to devour you.

“He didn’t. I promise.” You whined. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t.”

Steve’s eyes softened at that. Watching you lay there flat on your back at his mercy. Even still trying to be a good friend. Well… as good as one as you could be in a situation like this. Isn’t that why they needed you. Your sense of loyalty.

Were loyal to Bryce when he definitely didn’t deserve it. Had shown yourself so many times to have had their back when no one else did. Things had been hard as hell when they first came out about their relationship and yet there you were.

Had gotten so close to them that it started to feel like you were part of them. Then Bryce of all fucking people had the nerve to get jealous. Except he should have been. If they’d known how easy you would have folded they would have done this sooner actually.

So as your pleas came from your mouth insisting you were telling the truth, something about it… he doesn’t know. He was Steve Rogers after all. It really was no wonder that it somehow only made him harder. Still you saw the glimpse of the Steve you normally saw.

“I promise. I’m sorry,” you pleaded. “I was feeling so cruddy. I didn’t wanna hurt you.”

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you softly. “It’s ok. It’s ok.” All your emotions were clearly bubbling out as he came to sit up. Bringing you with him. “It’s ok. It’s ok,” he whispered softly. Kissing your temple.

“I just-,” you wiped your eyes. “I just don’t understand.”

“About what, Doll?” He asked, having not pulled his mouth away from you.

“Is this all you two wanted. I thought- I though-,”

Steve stopped you with a kiss. “Relax,” he said against your lips. You quivered and he didn’t stop. Peck after peck after peck. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded. Not like you hadn’t been kissing him back. It was instinctive at this point. That ache still there. Wanted to feel his teeth back on your breasts. Just wanted him. “Daddy,” you moaned again. Can’t believe how easy it was for you to flip into it.

Steve deepened it after that. Starting to get up and holding you closer to him when you gasped in surprise. Not wanting to break the moment so he went right back to it. Carrying you to the bedroom.

He dropped you down on the bed getting on his knees this time in front of you. Finally breaking your embrace. Hurrying to pull off the little shorts you were wearing. Panties coming off with it. “No more clothes at bedtime,” he mumbled putting his lips on your thigh. Something about him seemed so thirsty.

Like he was dying to lap at your- as soon as his tongue touched you it was like you melted. Sinking down into the mattress. “Steve!” You moaned.

Hands going to his hair. Nails digging into his scalp. Steve groaned against you. Taking long licks from the bottom of your pussy to your clit. “Cant believe he wouldn’t eat you out. What a fucking loser.” Steve pulled away to laugh. Using his thumb against it now. “Taste so good.”

Going back to putting his mouth on you. Mouth falling open as you laid back back. Arms going above your head as you cried out. Shit. Between him and Bucky you can’t believe you’d settled for less for so long.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, getting louder as that familiar. Snap ran through you. “You’re gonna make me- you’re gonna- I’m gonna- you’re gonna make me-,” you said hips moving back and forth.

His pointer finger rubbed your entrance only turning the intensity up. Made worse when he pushed it inside of you. Middle finger joining soon after. Making you yelp as he curled his fingers inside of you.

“I’m fucking cumming!” Your eyes rolled into back of your head as it finally happened. Couldn’t remember the last time you had an orgasm. Had interrupted Bucky before he could properly get you off and you’d been so pent up ever since. Needed this so bad.

“That’s it, Baby,” he hissed pulling away as you squirted into his hand. “That’s our fucking girl.” You tried to close your legs, but all Steve did was yank them open. Clearly hungry for you as he went back to what he was doing.

Soon enough he stood up. Unbutton his shirt wanting to sit up to help, but all you could do was convulse before him. He smirked down at you. Enjoying the view of you clearly stuck in ecstasy. Wanted to know what else he could get out of you. Dying to feel you wrapped around him.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he said kneeling down in front of you. Now naked and ready to give you every single inch.

He rubbed his dick against your slit. Making you mewl for him. How the hell could he expect you to say words right now. “I need it so bad, Daddy. Please fuck me,” you begged.

Didn’t need to ask twice. Steve lined up with you. Tip against your slit. Leaning back down to kiss you. Making you taste yourself on his tongue. Nails digging into his back as he finally slid inside.

Mouth forming into an ‘o’ as he did. “Fuck,” he breathed.

It felt like he’d filled you the brim. Too much for you to take and not enough at the same time. Face screwing up as he threaded his biceps under your legs to spread you open wider.

“Fuck me,” you begged. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

He put his forehead against yours as he thrusted into you. “Look at me,” another growl falling from his lips as you closed your eyes. That look was back. The lust. The need. “Knew you’d have good pussy. Pussy worth waiting for. Can’t believe you’d been wasting it on that asshole. Needed real men to handle you.”

“Yes,” you moaned. His lips going to your neck as you raked your nails up and down his back. The two of you breathing heavy as he rocked deeply inside of you. Legs wrapping around him. Lips going to his shoulder.

It all happened so fast when he rolled over to pull you on top. “Ride me, Baby,” he grabbed your hips so he could start rocking you on top of him. Throwing your head back as you got on your feet. Moving up and down.

“You’re too big!” You cried. Not like you hadn’t been expecting that it’s just shit this was a lot to handle.

“Oh come on. You can take it you’ve got it. You’ll make daddy proud. You know I don’t like quitters.”

You moaned at his words as he put his hands in your hair again. Making you bend towards him so he could kiss you again. Smacking your ass and then gripping it.

You looked between the two of you seeing you hadn’t even slid down all the way. Almost scared to make an attempt but the choice was made for you as he wrapped his arms around your hips to slam you down.

It felt like he’d split you in half at any minute. Couldn’t he see that he was breaking you. Though you were sure if you asked him, he’d say he didn’t care. And at this point you weren’t sure if you did either.

As your orgasm began to hit, thoughts had clearly left your brain. Putting your face into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna make me cum again.” Practically weeping from the overstimulation.

This time as he changed positions, pushing you back on your back. Head laying at the foot bed. Needing to be the one in control. “Gonna let me fuck you whenever I want, huh?”

“Uh huh,” was the most you could muster.

“My little play thing?” He smirked, but faltered as he moaned out. “Feel so fucking- gonna make me cum too.”

“Uh huh!” You moaned again, eyebrows scrunching up.

“Gonna make me cum in you, Baby. Fuck. Want it so bad. Want daddy’s cum don’t you.”

If you were in your right mind you would have definitely been telling him to pull out, but you were much too overwhelmed. Unable to think as he fucked into you. So close to cumming on his dick. Wanted it more than anything. Wanted to-

“Ah!” You screamed, putting your face into his sweat covered neck as you came around him. Hips bucking wildly into him as the shocks ran through you.

“That’s it, Babygirl,” he hissed. “That’s fucking it. Cum for me.”

You put your hand to your mouth, silencing yourself. Chest racking with sobs. As badly as Steve wanted to reach up to rip it away he found himself too caught up in his pleasure.

A growl curdling in his throat to come out as a, “Fuck, Babygirl,” as he chased his own orgasm. Even catching himself off guard when he pulled out to rip you onto your back. Not giving you much time to register anything either as he pushed back into you from behind. “Fuck,” his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he gripped your hips.

“Daddy!” You finally let out a scream, unable to hold yourself up. Collapsing so your ass was still in the air with your back arched.

From this angle it just seemed that you somehow felt even better. The way you wrapped around him was making him dizzy. Found himself unable to stop from giving into his primal urges as he rutted his cock into you as few as he could go.

“C’mon, Babygirl,” he hissed. “Give me one more. You can do it for me. Do it for Daddy, Baby. You know what I fucking want.”

It was like he couldn’t control his mouth and you were fully under his spell. Drinking in his words. Letting them tingle in your ear until they added to the shockwaves shooting down to your core.

Especially as he laid down on top of you. Feeling so much bigger than usual even in stature. Wrapping his arm around your neck so he could pull you in. Having his ear to your lips, “Take it, Y/N. Take it,” he spoke like he was delirious, feel like he was getting even heavier with each movement until he could finally get his knot into you.

The invasiveness made you jump. Not able to go anywhere as he’d had you trapped under him. Letting out a deeper growl as he finally let go inside of you. Hips still moving as he gave you his seed. Knot ensuring that all of it would stay deep inside your pretty little cunt.

Even with the strange sensation, you relaxed into it as he slowed. Unable to fight him. Didn’t even want to. Felt like you couldn’t after the initial shock. Steve still staying on top of you as he finally came to a stop. Breathing heavy into the crook of your neck. Eyes getting heavy with each breath.

A part of you wondering what the hell just happened, but too fucked out to speak. Or form a real thought. Especially when he kept shifting his hips as he was still inside of you. Small whimpers escaped your throat from how sensitive you were.

“Steve,” you sniffled wishing the two of you were the other way. Feeling like you needed to hold onto him.

It was like he got the hint even if he didn’t bother to move. Still feeling him swollen inside of you, through slowly softening.

His arms wrapped around you tightly. Lips going to your cheek to place a kiss on it. “Shhh, Baby. It’s ok. I’m right here. Relax,” he said into your ear. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You didn’t such a good job for me.”

As Steve whispered sweet nothings to you, Bucky stayed in the back of your mind. Can’t believe he was still out. Shit. What the hell were you supposed to do now.

Even then it wasn’t like you could focus on worrying. Steve finally making you drift off to sleep. Getting settled underneath him with no thoughts in your brain.

——————————————————

Can’t be too much of a party if one of you was asleep now could it. His jaw dropping at Steve as he smacked the man’s shoulder. “Could have at least waited!” He laughed. Not like he was one to talk.

After he finally pulled his knot from you, he was quick to get up. Making sure to tuck you in before getting up to clean up after himself. Not bothering to put any clothes on. As if Bucky hadn’t seen all of him by now.

Steve smirked, taking a sip of water. “You could have joined in at anytime.”

Bucky poured a second glass of whisky. Before handing it to his boyfriend who accepted. “Wanted to, but i had a lot of fun watching.” Before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Fuck. You even taste like her.” He hissed.

And it was true. He really could have, but every time he tried to move a muscle he find him glued to his spot. Watching you both through the crack in the door. Hand fisting his dick until he came against the wall that would definitely need cleaning. Then he kind of wanted to wait for you to do it. Your fault anyway.

Couldn’t bring himself to look away from the best porn he’d ever seen. Right in front of his face. All his fantasies coming true. The man of his dreams fucking the shit out of girl of his dreams what else could he ask for. And watching how well you took it even as you got overwhelmed, fuck why would he have ever looked away.

That’s why as he started to appreciate Steve’s super Solider stamina as he got hard in his mouth. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of your pussy on out. He could do with letting Steve feel like a cocky bastard with two cock hungry sluts begging for his dick tonight.

The problem is that you were right there, in the middle of their bed. Freshly fucked out after taking your first knot. While he would have liked to be the one to give that to you, he was also fine with Steve’s sloppy seconds.

Which is why he couldn’t help himself as he started kissing on your thighs. Salivating at the sight of his boyfriend’s cum only making your pretty little pussy look even prettier. Of course he had to taste you. Who better to clean you both up but him.

“Buck?” You asked in a tired voice, eyes blurring and then slowly adjusting. Fear shooting through your body, that only turned to confusion as he rubbed his thumb slowly over your tender clit.

“I hope and and Steve had fun together, Doll,” he said before licking your hole.

Because it was only just the beginning.

#fics by AFBH #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky Barnes x reader #stucky smut #stucky x you #stucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #Steve rogers x you x Bucky Barnes

430 notes · View notes

aagneauu · 6 months

Text

High value habits to elevate yourself 🥂✨

When the term "high value" is mentioned, we often think of things related exclusively to economic wealth, but being a high-value person is an attitude, an attribute founded on habits and a wealthy mentality. So today I wanted to mention a few habits that I personally perceive as something a person with strong standards apply on their lives. ✨

Sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language :b

1. Long-term mentality ✦

Enjoying yourself is very important, but when we only think about the things that give us temporary pleasure, is often very likely that we forget to take care about our future stability. For example, if you want to travel, the smart thing to do would be to save the money in order to be able to afford it, but how many times we just feel the urge to waste money on unnecessary stuff just to get that brief satisfaction, that bad habit will take us far from our goals. This rule can be applied on almost every aspect, and if you're able to stick to your goals and take decisions according to them, trust me, you'll get very far.

2. Invest ✦

Stop wasting and start investing; your money, your time and your energy. In terms of money, you obviously can spend some of it on pretty stuff, but instead of wasting your whole salary on things you want, a smarter move would be to use part of that money to invest it on something that potentially can give us another income, maybe there's a valuable peace of jewelry or clothing that not only we could use, but to sell and trade in the future, or even if you have enough money saved, you can invest in a property, to not only live in it, but to rent it. Our time and energy works in the same way, we could be wasting our time and energy with people that don't give us nothing we can learn from, and you're worth way more than that. Find people and habits that not only make you feel good and appreciated, but that will leave you something interesting for your personal growth, and remember, better alone than in a bad company.

3. Details matter ✦

How we talk, how we decide to present ourselves to the world, our values, the effort we put on what we make. Every little detail says something about us. For example, something as simple as spraying perfume before we go out makes a difference, or if you study, the amount of time and effort you decide to put on certain classes. Socially, what you decide to say, and to develop the hability to stay quiet when necessary. Maybe you think that those little things don't make a huge difference at the long-term, but when you see how your life can change drastically with every little step you take, you learn to pay attention to it.

4. Patience ✦

It is a strong word, it is even harder to apply to our lives sometimes. Being patient not only with people, but with our circumstances. Sometimes things that we don't like happens, and we don't even understand why because we thought that we did everything right, but everything happens for a reason, it's like a fruit, you could take it out of the tree earlier because you're hungry, but it isn't that mature and tasty, but if you just wait, resist the hunger, the fruit will be way better. That applies to money, emotional growth and life changes. Learn to understand that sometimes, pain will be the sign to something better than your current situation.

5. Stop following the crowd ✦

Set standards and learn what is good for you, if you just rely on others to decide what is best for you, or even worse; you know something is bad for you and still do it for others, then expect low quality experiences. People time to time will call you boring or even extreme just because you decide to be loyal to your values. If something that everyone is doing seems beneficial, do it, but because it gives you something valuable, not because of the crowd. You can apply this rule to everything; friends, money, and other experiences. The amount ot peace and comfort that you can get with this transformation is a huge life upgrade.

This were some topics that come to mind when the "high value" term is mentioned. And remember, no one is perfect and every little thing makes us unique. Life is a long journey that you can decide to upgrade with every little move.

Hope u enjoyed! ♡

#girlblogger #fashion #girl blogger #girlblogging #moodboard #luxuries #luxury #aesthetic #luxury aesthetic #luxe #high value mindset #high value woman #high maintenance #it girl #black girl luxury #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #girl boss #girl blogging #luxury lifestyle

545 notes · View notes

furiousgoldfish · 7 months

Text

How many of these 'rules for thee but not for me' have your abusive parents enforced on you?

I am allowed to criticize you, insult you, humiliate you and put you down in front of others. If you ever as much as imply I do anything wrong, or make me look bad in front of anyone, I will end you.

I am allowed to be aggressive, loud, intimidating, forceful and violent. You're not allowed to use force even in self defense, otherwise you are the abusive one, and how dare you.

I am allowed to need attention, comfort, appreciation, admiration, praise, reassurance, resources, time, energy, and everyone's support, at all times. If you ever need any of this, not only you are a burden but you're taking away attention that could have been mine and I need it more than you do. You do not deserve any of it.

I am allowed to make mistakes, to do harm with 'good intentions', to make human error and do things completely wrong. Everyone needs to give me a benefit of the doubt and forgive me immediately. If you ever make something I decide is a mistake, not only I will assume you had the worst intentions, but I will punish you severely for it and make you feel like you're the worst failure ever born.

I am allowed to control you completely. I can forbid and deny you anything, even food. I say what you do and when you do it, and you have to do it regardless of how rude I am asking it. If you ever even ask me to do something you need me to do, I will act like you are unreasonable, selfish and trying to take something away from me.

I am allowed to be emotional, whiny, complain, rant, threaten, wallow and cry. You are not allowed to show any emotions or you're spoiled, whiny, insufferable and unworthy of human society.

I am allowed to be seen as human and reasonable, all my actions excusable, and nobody is ever allowed to forget that I have emotions and that it's wrong to blame me for anything. You are not allowed any of this, you don't get to be taken seriously, and all of your actions are inexcusable. I can forget you're human and that you have emotions and it still makes me better than you.

I am allowed to hurt you if you do anything that irritates or annoys me even a little, even if you did it unknowingly and were just being a human. If you ever hurt me, even accidentally, you are a demon, worst child alive, and deserve to burn in hell forever.

I can take any revenge against you and it's justified. If you even consider any kind of revenge, you're evil.

I can forget that you exist and not care at all how my decisions affect you and your life. If you ever make a decision without considering my feelings first, you are the most selfish, disgusting, deprived and evil person who lives only to cause me harm.

My anger directed at you is righteous. Your anger directed at me is selfish, ungrateful, spoiled, deranged, out of control, disgusting, dangerous, makes you evil.

If I ever show contempt at you, you are supposed to still rationalize it as 'love'. If you ever as much as look at me wrong, I will take it as an expression of utter unreasonable hatred and disrespect.

I deserve respect, regardless of what I do to you. You don't deserve respect, and you never will, regardless of what you do for the rest of your life.

I am intelligent, and my every decision is superior to any of yours. You will never be intelligent, your every decision will be considered stupid until you do exactly as I tell you to.

I decide who you are and how are you to be treated. You don't get to decide, not for yourself, not for me. You will perceive me how I tell you to perceive me. I will perceive you as unlovable and awful no matter what you do, and you must perceive yourself this way too.

You must center me in your life. You are completely irrelevant to me and exist solely to make me look good, give me benefits of labour and love and to avoid making any trouble for me. If you try to do otherwise I will attack you as if you are the worst creature existing who is a burden to everyone alive.

Guests and relatives are here to give attention to me. You are not allowed attention and should instead be there as a servant/make me look good.

It is never my fault how I react to you, or even for what I do to you unprovoked. It is always your fault how you react to me, and you are further responsible for all of my actions and emotions as well. Nobody is responsible for your emotions, you might as well not have any.

I am not responsible for my own violence. You are responsible for my violence, and for violence of other people towards you.

I deserve everything I ever wanted from parenthood and raising a child, and only good parts too. If anyone tries to make me go through any unpleasant part, they're stupid or evil. You do not deserve even the basics of a normal childhood, instead you need to be the toughest kid alive if you want to survive.

I can be sensitive to every little hint, implication or face expression. You are not allowed to be sensitive even to the most crude and humiliating remarks or insults. You are not allowed to even have a problem with threats, blackmail or violence.

Whatever bothers me is a real and serious issue. Whatever bothers you is superficial, unimportant, made-up, you dramatizing and you seeking attention. Your problems are not real.

I cannot be compared to anyone for I am unique and special. You can be compared to the most despicable monsters, criminals, predators, and other groups of people that I consider disgusting.

If I am sick, it's a tragedy. If you are sick, stop pretending and get to work. And it's also your own fault and how dare you be sick only to force me to tolerate you being in bed and otherwise ignore you. You've done this on purpose to make me worry.

If I'm hurt, no measure is big enough to comfort me, bring justice back into the world, ensure revenge and correct whatever evil hurt me. If you're hurt, you deserved it, and you're probably just making it up anyway.

Taking care of me is your responsibility. Taking care of you is nobody's chore and you're selfish for wanting it.

My problem are your problems, and you are responsible for fixing them, even when you can't possibly do anything about them. Your problems are irrelevant and nobody cares.

You have to make me look good even at the price of truth, free will, and your own sanity. I can make you look bad in front of others for fun and amusement.

If you're inconvenient to me, I have every right to hate you, hurt you and do anything in the world to force you to change whatever is bothering me. If I'm inconvenient to you, adjust, and keep silent.

#rules for thee but not for me #abusive parents #toxic parents #child abuse #parentification #child neglect #hypocrisy #double standards #double bind #ending up in pain no matter what #because they rigged the entire basis of your upbringing #to always be against you #so you're always neglected and hurt and it's always your fault #and you can't even do anything #gross behaviour #narcissistic parents #narcissistic abuse

511 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 17 days

Note

Can I request to you a Dazai, Gojo, Alucard and Captain (Hellsing), Tsuna and Byakuran (KHR) with an isekai'd/our world Darling, please?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, delusional behavior, clinginess, controlling behavior, blackmailing, threats, isolation, abduction

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78

Isekaid into their world

Dazai Osamu

🤎The one advantage you have as you stumble helplessly into this world is that the environment and the city around you belongs to a place that isn't as different as your own home, minues the people with the gifts of course. The way of living and the technology aren't anything out of the norm for you though so even if you are dropped without any preparation or knowledge into this world, you can still somewhat adjust. Still though, even if you try to blend in as good as possible, something about you always stands out and to trained eyes that will become quite obvious. It just happens to be your misfortune that Dazai is a man with eyes that perceive more than the average person on the street. From the very first glance you two shared, he knew that there was something about you as you looked at him as if you knew him. Rather intriguing. There is always such a cute aura of wariness yet simultaneous curiosity when you have him around you, the fleeting glances you give him always an indicator how you have an inner debate on whether to approach him or not. Normally the average person is easily fooled by his facade yet your nervousness is the one that tells him that you know of something you shouldn't.

🤎How do you know if he has never met you before? You are such an oddball, even though you do not seem like a threat to him. Still, he is rather curious now and would like to find out more about you yet as he finds himself stalking you, he finds himself in a dead end. There is nothing to be found about you. No origin, no family, no past. Only the police records on how you were found one day and how you were helped to find a job and enabled to live a life by yourself. Your mouth is shut when he tries to pry for answers yet all of it doesn't stop his obsession as it instead only fuels it. There is a secret you keep and Dazai is dying to know what it is that you fret to let others find out about. He would love to be the person you trust enough to tell him what it is you are keeping to yourself. If it doesn't work though, he switches tactics by drugging you and getting your mind to finally let loose as he coaxes the secrets out of you. If you were isekaid by dying, he would start musing if something similar were to happen if he would die, although of course he would only pass away with you by his side. Who knows, maybe both of you may even become reincarnated lovers if being isekaid more than once is possible.

Alucard

🩸Your struggles are more obvious as you essentially land on earth in the pat where supernatural creatures exist yet even despite initial problems and a silent anxiety you dwell on at night, you manage to build your life from scratch. Life is still fine after all, even if you are stranded in a world you do not belong to. All that finds an abrupt end though when you meet the man in red. There is such a raw and visceral reaction when your eyes land on his tall form as your heart is trembling. Frozen is your body as your gaze is glued to the vampire until he suddenly stops and turns around and even though his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, you feel your heart trembling as you finally gather the strength to turn around and scurry away. Your biggest mistake was paying so much attention to him. He wonders what has gotten you so frightened as red eyes follow your form sprinting away. Alucard is rather used to the intimidation humans and even other creatures tend to feel when they meet him for the first time yet your fear was not one of natural intimidation. Those yes looked at him as if they knew him and it is that aspect that gains his interest. How would you know him?

🩸Your hopes to outrun from the vampire king are feeble and in a way you know that yourself. Whether he is stalking you from your shadows or emerges suddenly from somewhere, Alucard is always there and when you do catch sight of him it is because he chose to let you see him. He must admit that your case is a rather intriguing one as he has done his sweet research on you yet is standing here with only a handful of information. There is nothing else about you that there was there as if you were a ghost that one day just appeared. He enjoys the little hunt though which is why he doesn't decide to take the easisest course of using hypnosis on you immediately but with his arsenal of special weapons and the crawling torment he puts you under, it is only a question of time until he discovers the precious secret you have kept hidden. Eons he has been dwelling on this planet yet he has never found a little traveler like you. A human with no special skills who was transported into another world entirely which was only a work of fiction in your own. It truly is rather amusing, although it does also mean that you probably know about his past he wouldn't have want you to know about.

Captain

🐺Captain is a creature that acts on territorial instincts when it involves his darling as he fully embraces his side as a werewolf in such cases. Perhaps things in his mind are just warped if you were to compare it it your own view. After all he found you all by yourself, confused and left all alone. There was the urge to protect and to save you when he saw you alone back then and now he knows that he felt that way because his instincts had already considered you to be his mate back then. Whatever you used to be before he found you and from wherever you came from means nothing anymore as he would have ripped you away from anyone and anything that would have stopped him. It is all rather overwhelming for you though. You got barely time to even process anything after all before you were abducted by Captain. The constant anxiety can barely be suppressed as even the best poker face couldn't fool his high sense of smell. A scent he is very familiar with as many have trembled in front of him before yet for the first time iin centuries Captain finds himself caring about the fear of his victim. After all his mate shouldn't look at him with such frightened eyes.

🐺As a creature of keen senses and an experienced soldier though, things won't remain hidden forever. The first few days after the secret has been discovered are the scariest as Captain goes full soldier on you. Inolequent questions and commands put you under growing pressure as he puts you through interrogation. If he senses a threat, even if it is a hypothetical one that hasn't been proven to be true yet, he is committed to remove the problem by its roots. If you have been transported already once from one world to another, there is no guarantee that it won't happen again and that is especially likely if you were randomly teleoported from your old world. If the scenario would be that you died before landing in his world, Captain would at least have the assurance that the teleportation was only triggered because of your death. Whilst he is intense yet still overall silent about it, things are very different if the Major should ever find out and he definitely will sooner or later. After all if there is even a slim chance of teleportation between different worlds existing, it is something worth investigating. You remain safe from any experiments though as Captain refuses to let anything harm you.

Gojo Satoru

🩵It is fairly easy to somehow establish a new life in his world. Even if you are aware of the curses existing in this world and even if you know about the terrifying aspects of it all, you know that most people go through their entire life being completely oblivious to it all. The same goes for you as you aren't able to perceive Cursed Energy and for that the terrors of this world lurking around everywhere remain hidden away from you. Whether that is meant to be a relief to you or not depends on your mood on that day. Sometimes you feel a light relief that you do not have to worry yourself about the hideous and ugly aspects of it all and sometimes when your shoulders feel heavy or your paranoia gets the better of you, you fear the things that you do not see. It is perhaps a bit lonely, to know about it all without being able to tell anyone. That is until you meet Gojo. What the normal human eye cannot perceive, his Six Eyes can and so he finds himself instantly focused on you as there is something quite different to you in comparison to others. Why? Because he can't perceive you. He sees you just like everyone else sees you and what is ordinary to them is like opening a new world to Gojo.

🩵Perhaps this is one of the main reasons why he enjoys spending so much time with you. Not only to satiate his own curiosity about you but also because spending time around you is relaxing. There are no minuscule details he sees when he looks at you and it allows him to truly focus on the moment when he is with you. He values that a lot and if it wouldn't have been for his growing obsession, he would have been able to not get too caught on why you are so different from everyone else. Things can escalate very quickly, especially once he dives into your background only to discover absolutely nothing about you. Who are you? Please tell him. His desperation is urgent if you leave him dangling for too long and his paranoia can quickly lead him to lock you away at his own place where he can protect and control you better. He won't take it very well once you are finally forced to admit your secret. Satoru has already lost Suguru after all but now there is a potential risk that there will be a literal alternative world seprarating you from him, a place that he will never be able to reach if you were to be teleported again. It is frightening and worst of all is that he doesn't know what he can do to keep it from happening.

Sawada Tsunayoshi

🔥The technology in his world may be a bit more rusty in comparison to what you are used to but otherwise it is quite possible to settle down in his world. That is until you get involved with the Vongola and their business by sheer accident. In hindsight it was rather stupid to reveal that you knew one of his guards which instantly alarmed them as no ordinary citizen should know about their true identity unless you were a spy or someone who might mean trouble from them. Most of his guards and Tsunayoshi included do not go very harsh on you after your blunt mistake, something Hibari criticises them for but ultimately complies although his scorching stares are not unnoticed by you. Tsuna himself is rather friendly though as he instructs his guards that he would like to meet the person who apparently knows for some reasons all about them. He is mostly understanding as he doesn't even force you to tell him how you knew but he also makes it clear that they will have to keep an eye on you because he isn't able to fully verify who you are even if you don't strike him as a bad person. You don't complain though as it doesn't hamper significantly with your life.

🔥The little information they have on you does heighten the distrust amongst some of the Vongola family but since you have volunteered to let yourself be watched, Tsuna decides to not do anything to force information out on you. You find him sometimes trying to pry the information out of you himself though he only chuckles when you call him out for it. Otherwise Tsunayoshi is rather kind as he even starts helping you in your life a bit if he deems it to be necessary. Honestly, he may just manage to gain your trust enough so that you admit everything to him on your own accord whilst remaining unaware that this has been secretly the plan of his. Everything he has done, he has done because he genuinely cares for you but he is also aware that you do not seem to have a person you really trust despite having obviously something you want to talk about. He has been secretly working hard to gain your trust and if it ultimately pays off, he would be rather pleased. Whilst he is rather surprised when he hears what you have to tell, he has gone through quite a few shocking news in his life before so he won't have a very dramatic reaction to it all. He would like to know though if you may teleport away again.

Byakuran

🍬Byakuran's world is basically the futuristic dystopia you have read about in science fiction stories before. Everything is frightening and unfamiliar as you have to fear for your own life without any protection as you are still freshly stranded on this planet. If you would have had the choice though, you would have prefered the uncertainty and the loneliness over catching the eye of Byakuran himself as you are discovered by him one day when you just happen to sneak around one of his institutions. He is a rather peculiar individual as he openly invites you to join him solely because he just happens to find you interesting and for that would like to keep you close until he has figured you out, something people like Kikyo and Bluebell scold him for accordingly. Even if you were to reject him simply because you know just how bad of a person Byakuran is, you would only lit the fire that will soon transform into a burning obsession as you only stoke his curiosity. The white-haired man has no shame in patronising your time as soon as he has figured out where you reside in as he will actively seek you out from that day on to repeat his offer to you over and over again until the thread snaps and he manipulates you.

🍬He presents you with the information he has gotten on you but it isn't that what frightens you. After all he has as good as nothing on you that he could use to blackmail you. It is rather the fact that Byakuran has started making his own theories based on the clear lack of information and your behavior that he has been observing for a while now. Some of them are disturbingly close to the truth and you can see the intrigue shining in his eyes when he gauges your reactions and notices the little twitches you do and the way you cast your eyes elsewhere when he retells you something he came up with because it is too close to what has happened for you to remain comfortable. Byakuran has already been aware that there are other versions of him existing in other worlds but to find out that there are people with similar abilities to his is rather fascinating, especially from a world that is so different than anything he has ever imagined. Whilst he shows an eager interest to figure out a way to your world, it is more to satisfy his own curiosity. You are not going back after all. No, you are going to stay in this world stuck with him for the rest of your life. You are much too interesting to disappear on him.

226 notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 9 months

Text

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 5

A/N: I’m trying something new here—been reading The Shining by Steven King and I like how the “thoughts” are presented :)

Warnings: general angst

Word count: 5,414

-Part 4- -Part 6-

Sharp, caramel eyes latch to your own from across the room.

Beneath his fingertips rest the planets of your solar system, whirring softly as they rotate, cogs clicking together. Your orrery.

Shoulders tense—it’s fine machinery, incredibly delicate. You don’t like the idea of him being so close to something so dear to you. He hasn’t proven to be particularly caring, or thoughtful. Anxiety closes around your throat. “Eris,” you greet, moving forward stiffly. “What are you doing here?” Why is he in the House of Wind, in the heart of the Night Court. Why is he in Velaris.

He taps against your world, the mechanical clicking coming to a stop, the system halting to his will. Retracts his hand. “You’re really kept out of the loop, aren’t you?” He asks, eyes gleaming, fingertips grazing the blade at his hip. Your brow narrows, “that’s not an answer.” You eye him warily, how close he is to that precious gift your sister had given you.

Lips lift into that familiar viper’s smile, “I’m here to have a meeting with your High Lord and Lady. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. Surprised too you’re allowed near me at all after our last encounter—do they not particularly mind your safety?” He inquires, moving around the kitchen table. You shift in response, mirroring his movements, the opening steps to a dance you’re uninterested in.

“I live here,” you counter, “why should I yield my ground to you. It’s my home.” He quirks a neatly groomed brow, taking another step around the table, so you’ve switched positions. “You don’t live with the rest of your lovely family? Your younger sister has a home deeper within this city, but you choose to stay here, in this lonely place?”

“It’s my home,” you repeat, “and I like the quiet. Can you understand that?”

Eris’ brow narrows at the perceived insult, and you move closer to the table, to your orrery. “What sort of nonsense question is that?” He asks sharply.

“You live in a palace, don’t you? Big; spacious? Filled with people and riches?” You ask, narrowing your eyes on the male. His lips quirk, “more riches than you can even comprehend.” Eyes run over you, judgementally, “more beauty, too.”

“Filled with people, I’ll bet,” you say, ignoring the comment with practiced ease. At least Azriel’s helped with desensitising you to such things. “Servants, courtiers, maids. Does your home— Does your father’s palace ever sleep? Do you ever get any peace?”

“If you’re prying to see if there’s a single moment I might be vulnerable to an assassination attempt, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. There isn’t a single person who steps foot in my palace without authorisation.” He replies smoothly, caramel eyes gleaming.

Your lips tilt quietly, “what a lovely cage you live in, Eris.”

He stiffens, then his mouth twists itself into something resembling a smile—too serpentine. “Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare? You’re quite talented at it.” You don’t mistake it for a compliment. “Tell me: which of them taught you to speak like that?”

Your brow dips in confusion. “It’s not warfare—It’s observation. There’s nothing aggressive about it.”

“No? No animosity in your prying? I could have sworn I detected a bite back by the river. Where have your claws gone? Were they clipped just like the hell-cat’s were?” He smiles—unnerving to be faced with it. “Bring them out. We can have ourselves a sparring match.” A hand raises in mocking challenge, beckoning you forward.

Hairs raise at the back of your neck, skin prickling with that itch that lies just below the scratch of your nails. Burning your fingertips. Dangerous. Manipulative. Manipulative.

“And where did you learn?” You fire back. “Who taught you to be so insidious? Or do you know no different?”

Caramel burns into you, charring your insides. “An answer for an answer.”

He’s got you. Knows you won’t rise to his challenge. So you switch methods.

Eyes flick down to the machinery on the table, “it’s very beautiful, isn’t it?”

If he’s caught off guard, he doesn’t show it. Well-accustomed to being on the constant edge. “A waste of time. The tinkerer has simply welded a few cogs and screws together—basic metal work.”

Your gaze rises to his, a hint of amusement within as you take a seat to better peer at the orrery. “You’re trying so hard to make it seem insignificant, yet you were studying our planet, so you’re clearly familiar with its structure.” Fingertips graze across the gilded metal of the sphere, the only one occupying the habitable zone. “I doubt you’ll answer my question, so I can only presume you’re used to hiding your interests.”

“Presume away,” he drawls, “it’s no bother to me.”

“No bother,” you echo, spinning the orrery, cogs ticking, globes rotating smoothly. “You hide like there’s something to be embarrassed about. What’s wrong with being fascinated by the world?” You play with the system, again falling under its spell, admiring the intricate carvings, how the tinkerer has rendered texture into metal—made it appear soft.

“You speak as if you’re knowledgeable of it. How much can you know having only spent two years in our land, feeding off our history?” He counters, stepping toward the table, eyes flicking carelessly over the mechanism. With forced lightness. Your brow furrows as you peer at him, “what’s the meaning of having endless time to discover if you don’t use it? I know about the world because I’ve read about it, and I’ve read about it because I want to know. Two years isn’t long to study something as vast as this, but unlike you, I have time to myself, to do things for myself that I want. And this—” you gesture to the small solar system, “—is what I’m interested in.”

The corners of Eris’ mouth tilt down, stepping finally closer to the table, as if accepting a conversation is inevitable. “And you think it is wise to invest your time in something as academic as this? You think you’ll be allowed to study it? Pursue your interest in it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You counter, absently tracing the rings of one of the planets—how beautiful they are! “I’m immortal now. Why shouldn’t I spend it doing things I like? Not all of us want to be sour and miserable.”

His lips quirk, “you maybe immortal, but you’re also detrimentally female. If you think your sex will not be an obstacle in your study, then you’re much more naive than I thought.”

Your brow dips, “and you’re awfully cynical. The library is filled with books, and is run by females, so no—I don’t think my sex will be an obstacle,” you snap. Take a breath in. He’s good at getting under your skin. You have to remember that’s his game. And you can’t fall for it. Otherwise Azriel will be right.

Eris opens his mouth, and you just know you don’t want to hear whatever rubbish he’s about to spit out. So you divert by returning to your wonderful orrery, “if you had to choose between these two planets to stand on for five minutes—” you point to the globes either side of your own, “—which would you go for? Air shortage aside?”

He rolls his eyes, irritated. “I do not have an interest in your childish device, and I did not come here to be lectured on how great the world is, nor anything beyond it. I have much more pressing things to concern myself with. The fact alone you choose to entertain yourself with knowledge that will never impact anyone is proof of your naiveté.”

You ignore the jab, even if it scratches its nails down your mental walls. “If you set foot on this one—” point to the one further from the centre, “—you would be crushed in seconds. Do you know why?”

The viper’s smile again, “as I have already said, I have no childish infatuation with things beyond my control. You’re wasting your time.”

“This planet,” you carry on, pointedly ignoring him, “spins nearly five times faster than our own, meaning gravity—the stuff that holds us to the—”

“I know what gravity is,” he snaps, fire lighting in his eyes.

You blink, startled by the outburst. He watches you silently. Doesn’t make a move to interrupt you again.

“Meaning the gravity,” you say slowly, waiting for him to jump again. He doesn’t. “…is stronger.” You blink again, but he makes no comment. “As a result, the days there last mere hours. How can that not fascinate you? How many other quirks are out there? Even limiting it to our own planet?”

His caramel eyes narrow. “Careful,” he warns. “People have been put to death for talking as you are.”

You look at him, confused. “People in your court? Why on earth would anyone be killed for this?”

“Regardless of court,” he drawls, as if it’s obvious. “For suggesting something other than the Mother. On grounds of blasphemy. The study of science is inherently rooted against her.”

Eyes widen as you stare at him.

“Is that what’s stopping you?” You ask, incredulously. “You’re a favoured heir to the throne, aren’t you? What good is that title if you’re unable to benefit from it?”

His brow narrows, “there are infinite ways I benefit from it. If you’re too ignorant to figure them out, then it speaks volumes to your wisdom.”

You ignore that, pushing forward. “But Rhys has one in his study—an orrery. It can’t be that serious?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re doubting yourself. “Is it?”

“Hasn’t your sister witnessed first-hand how selective the world can be in who it favours? Did you not listen when I told you your sex would present difficulties?” He says sharply. “If you’re set on remaining ignorant, I see no point in continuing this conversation.”

Spine straightens as you stare at him, surprised.

“If I don’t know something, then explain it to me,” you say quietly. “How can I learn if I don’t know where I’m lacking?”

“It is not my responsibility to educate you,” he snaps. “Neither my responsibility to entertain you with conversation. If you prove to be dull, I have no reason to waste my time on you.”

“I agree it’s not your responsibility to educate me,” you say, frowning, “but if you have knowledge of something I don’t, and refuse to share it, how can you stand there and remain irritated with me? When you have the ability to change that?”

Eris’ lips twist again. “Like I said: it’s a waste of time.”

Your brows curve in frustration and disappointment. “You’d rather allow your irritation to fester than do something to prevent it? If you have a problem, and the means to repair it, but choose not to… Well, it speaks volumes to what sort of High Lord you might be.” As soon as the title leaves your tongue, it smacks back into you, the weight registering in your mind. The male before you really might become High Lord—inherit the power and responsibility that comes with it.

He’ll become responsible for his whole Court—yet prefers inactivity when faced with a problem that does not directly impact him.

“Why spend my energy on something so useless? You are only one person—why should I waste my breath? You clearly have no concept of how important and limited time is to someone in my position, in spite of immortality,” he states coldly, caramel darkening to something icy. “I prioritise matters I deem to be important; you waste your time flicking through old books that would better serve a fire.”

“I’m wasting my time on something I love.” You reply sharply, skin itching again, prickling at your fingertips. Sick of having it looked down on. Of being looked down on.

Lips twist in a faint, serpentine smile, eyes gleaming with predatory focus. He descends into the seat opposite you, moving with the grace of a spider, spiralling down into the centre of his web to meet his prey. Suck it dry; liquidate its insides. “Now that piques my interest.”

You don’t need to look down to know the colour your skin has changed to. You do anyway, eyes widening as you take in the faint, radiant green of your fingertips. You stare silently, noting the iridescence.

“I gather my brother’s mate is a seer, while the hell-cat yielded her power,” his smile is one crafted from centuries of cultivated misery, sharp edges created to keep himself safe. Carving his own bones into weaponry. “Could Rhysand have kept you secret because you have no control over it? Even after all this time?”

You bite down on the fear—it’s the second time it’s sparked up in broad daylight. Out in the open. Where anyone can see. “So persistent with the theory of secrecy,” you manage, voice coming out smooth, for the most part. “Maybe you didn’t know, because my power is nothing. It doesn’t heal, doesn’t hurt—nothing besides a dim light in the dark. It’s utterly useless.”

Eris doesn’t look convinced. “The cauldron wouldn’t give you a meaningless power. You haven’t tried hard enough.”

“Why is it so unbelievable?” You counter, in a hurry to end the conversation so you can return to the cover of your room. “Elain is the only one gifted with a real power. Nesta—” Are you allowed to tell him? He already knows she yielded it, so you see no point in hiding it. “Nesta took something. Ripped it away from the cauldron. Why would I be given anything meaningful?” You ask, and see the interest drain from his eyes. “Out of the four of us, Elain’s the only one with a working power.”

“And that’s why you’ve had so much time to yourself,” he drawls, malice again swimming in his whiskey eyes. “No training to do, nothing useful to preoccupy yourself with. Just steadily draining resources, and researching nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” you fire back weakly. “And it’s not heresy either. —nor blasphemy, or whatever name you want to give it to try and convince me it’s wrong.”

His eyes harden, “it denies the power of the Mother. Everything was made when she tipped out the cauldron. Science seeks to disprove that.”

“It shows the beauty of the world!” You insist, vaguely aware of the colour growing more intense as you press your hands into the surface of the table, rising to your feet. “It shows how intricate, and delicately woven it is! The only thing it does is prove there is something out there. How can you look up into the night sky, or gaze across the world, filled with magic, and life, and think any other way?” You argue, pushing the orrery across the table. “There are patterns in our world. Strange, and wonderful patterns, if you know how to spot them. The perfect rotations of our world around the great star, how everything intertwines with one another, like those cogs and screws you were trying to make light of. How can a world be so intricately faceted by chance? There has to be a designer—a creator. The one who set everything in motion to become as it is now.”

Your heart spikes as you think about it—how great she must be. The vastness of her capabilities.

“Science does not deny the existence of the Mother—it allows us to study the depth of her. Or something close to it.”

Eris’ eyes flick down to the solar system that you’ve pushed between his hands—now studying the details. His attention drags back up to you, noting how your pupils have dilated, heart beating quickly, nails digging into the surface of the table, gleaming with iridescence. A slow smile as he makes the connection between your emotions and the glow.

It would be a shame to tell you.

He’ll watch you figure it out for yourself—even if you have to stumble your way to the end.

“You’re skilled with words,” he says at last. “Has anyone told you that?”

You regard him silently, a little taken aback. Almost exhausted from the output of energy. Who knew it could be so tiring sharing an interest. How draining excitement is. “You’re just saying that,” you murmur quietly, fatigue weighing on your tongue from the outburst. You know he’s manipulative. You won’t fall for it.

His smile grows a little wider, into something vaguely normal. “You might even have avoided execution with a speech like that.”

Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s lying. It’s not much to go off, not much to rely on. He’s had centuries to perfect this act, would be flawless at it by now. And yet…

And yet. It’s enough for you to believe him. Trust your gut, and it’s telling you he’s being sincere.

Strange indeed.

————

Mor had interrupted almost immediately after, making you spring back from the table, seeing her blonde head appear in the kitchen, eyes hard when they landed on the Autumn Court male.

She’d promptly whisked him away to whichever room they were having their meeting in, and you’d hastily tucked your hands at your back, concealing glowing fingertips from her sharp gaze. You’d hated yourself a little in that moment, for hiding it from her. For not being brave enough to face them head on.

It was nothing compared to the sharp, stabbing laceration in your gut when Eris noted the movement. Offered you a slow, vulpine smile.

It’s been days since then, and every step seems to echo your doom. Every footfall in the hallway, every chirp of voices—you’re convinced they know. Because how much longer is he going to keep it a secret? How long before he asks something from you? Something you can’t give, because you don’t have access to them. To any of them. Not in the way he would like.

A series of knocks is landed to you door, and the book slides from your hands. Yelp when it nearly hits your foot. Feyre really needs to start walking a little louder so things like that don’t happen. You sigh heavily.

“Come in,” you call, hastily collecting up the book, plonking it down atop the precarious stack at your bedside. A small gust of dust motes shoot out from the pages, and you cough, turning to the window. Opening it to invite in the crisp, midday air. Open the curtains a little wider, too.

You turn to face her, here probably to ask you to another dinner. It’s been nearly a fortnight since the last one, when Elain had invited you to the…mortal lands. You really don’t know what to call that part, now.

Hazel cuts into you, air catches in your lungs—maybe it’s the dust.

You stare. Stare, and stare, but he doesn’t morph, or transfigure into your sister. Shadows crawl at his feet, slink over his wings, kept tight to his body. It’s strange to see him so tense.

“What are you…” you trail off, shaking your head slowly. “No.”

Azriel’s mouth purses. Remains in the doorway, not even one step away from the threshold. “We should— I would like to speak with you.” You stare longer; shake your head again.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

“I don’t… No. I don’t want to,” you manage. “I’m in the middle of something right now.” His eyes flick about the room, and you shift to conceal the books at your bedside. “You don’t look busy,” he says slowly, aware how quickly things can turn sour. “That’s because I’m talking to you,” you reply, equally carefully.

He pauses, eyes once again scanning your room, then, “may I come in?”

Spine goes rigid; his pupils dilate. “I want to clear the air between us,” he supplies. “It would be better to do so in private.” He has a point. Feyre’s added a sound barrier to your room after the mess of last time, but… It’s midday, no one should be here. The only people who occasionally dip in are Elain and Feyre. Nesta doesn’t really…the two of you aren’t as close. “Okay,” you find yourself saying, dipping your head, “but I need to—” you gesture to the clothes on your floor. The general mess.

He nods, throat bobbing before he steps inside, the door clicking behind him as he keeps to the clear spaces on the floor. Few and far between.

You swallow, prying your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “What did you want to… Where do you want to start?” You ask, returning to the far end of your room to push the windows wider—as far as they can go. The breeze plays with strands of your hair, cleaning out the stuffy room, smelling slightly of mildew and parchment. Mostly dust, though.

“Your feelings for me…” he begins quietly, the words blaring throughout the room. “How long have you—”

“You know. Start somewhere else,” you interrupt, nails digging into the wooden frame, nudging the fabric of the curtains with your foot. He pauses, and you remain turned away from him, heart spiking. But he acquiesces.

“Okay…” he breathes heavily, followed by the faint stretch of leather as he folds his arms. Flexes his fingers before doing so. Still, you don’t look at him. “The talk with Eris.” It’s your turn to sigh, shifting on your feet to face him, wind blowing in gently from behind, soothing the heat between your shoulder blades, wrapping your cardigan a little tighter.

You don’t question how he knows about that short chat. Maybe Mor mentioned it—she’s the only one who saw, anyway. And you can’t imagine Azriel would have allowed it to go on that long if his shadows were aware. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“He just asked why I lived up here, instead of with the rest of you,” you mumble, scanning hastily for something to do. “I just said I liked the quiet, and that’s it.” Fingers grip the hem of a top, carrying it to your bed to fold away. The first of many.

Silence stretches between you, taut and tenuous. Hairs rise at the back of your neck, skin prickling.

“You didn’t mention that last time,” he says slowly, neutrally. Too controlled to be calm.

Your brows draw together. “I didn’t,” you confirm, picking up another top, folding it. It’s slightly out of place, the seams not lining up, and you redo it. Set it above the other. “Why not?” He asks tentatively. “It helps to know exactly things like that.” You stand straighter, looking at him—he does indeed have his arms crossed. Uncrosses them when you face him. Also straightens.

“We haven’t spoken since then,” you say slowly.

Eyes lock briefly when you both connect the dots.

“You’ve spoken with him since?” It’s phrased as a question, but…

Throat rolls, eyes turn away, body following shortly after, grabbing a pile of three garments. Set them on the bed. Hands moving like clockwork.

Head dips in confirmation.

Silence digs deeper. A shovel in a grave mound.

“When we had a meeting?” He asks, voice again taking on that controlled tone. Body coiled tight. Features neutral. “Yeah,” you murmur, “when you had that meeting.” Set the skirt atop the pile.

“And he asked why you live alone?” There’s an implication there. What is it? So many different angles to study it from—not a pleasing thought. “Not directly,” you mumble, “he said it was interesting I chose to live here when Feyre had a house deeper in the city. I think.”

“What you do you mean, you think?” He asks steadily, remaining statue-like in your peripherals.

“It was a few days ago,” you supply. “It didn’t stick with me.” That part didn’t, at least. He nods, reasoning it out in his head. Understandable.

“Was there anything else?” He asks instead. You know he marks the way your shoulders tense, even if you operate otherwise normally. “No,” you mumble, turning away from him, “nothing important.”

“We’ve been over this,” he reminds. “You don’t—…” Sighs. “Just tell me everything, and I’ll decide what’s important.” Why does this keep happening?

“You can’t trust him,” he adds gently, a touch softer than before.

You nod your head quickly, “I know.” Quiet reigns again, and he’s debating something. “Just say it,” you murmur, straightening the stack of books, skittish fingers fumbling with some of the loose papers. You should probably separate them out into a neater pile—they’ll only get more crinkled otherwise.

“I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he supplies carefully.

“Okay.” Nod once. “I won’t.”

Picture the way his throat rolls, fingers flex at his sides. “Do you really understand why you can’t trust him?”

You pick up a few books from the stack, depositing them on your desk, moving to sort through which ones can be returned to the library. Mentally cataloguing their numbers and titles that correlate with set aisles. “I do,” you say, seeing how that would have been misinterpreted. He does you the courtesy of not asking you to explain it. “So you understand why you have to be careful about what you say. What you let him know,” he reasons softly.

Something heavy settles in your gut at the reminder, but you keep your lips shut.

“Eris is a snake,” he continues. “I can’t stress enough how wary you should be around him. And certainly never by yourself.” Eyes briefly meet over that last part, then your own dart away, returning to organising the catastrophe on your desk. Shifting through papers and diagrams. Charts and catalogues. Star formations and little doodles. “If you give him something, he will find a way to use it. It’s imperative you never let him know anything important.” You look at him over your shoulder, temporarily removing your focus from the lovely books, “what counts as important?”

Azriel sighs, leans against the tall frame of your bed, one shoulder propped against it calmly. He looks relaxed—it’s intentional. A distortion to make things seem fine; to keep you calm.

He raises one hand, gestures between you and him. “Us,” he says, reluctantly. “Things like this—they’re private. Emotional problems, and squabbles or…complications,” he expands. “You can’t let him know about anything like that. If he thinks there’s weakness, or a rift he can exploit, he will.”

Breath catches in your chest, and you snap you attention off him, forcefully reattaching it to the books you’ve laid out. Which pile means what?

“I don’t…” you begin. Swallow. Unstick your tongue. “I don’t know about any of your relations. Within…within Rhys’…” You fumble, unsure how to describe them all.

(Us.)

“Family?” He supplies. “Within your family?”

“No,” you sigh. “Beyond my sisters. I don’t—…I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with Cassian, or Mor, or Amren, either. I don’t—… There’s nothing he can get from me.”

Azriel watches you silently, skin prickling beneath the weight of his focus. “They’re your family, too,” he says gently. Almost tenderly. “Not just Rhys’, or Feyre’s. You’re her older sister, so you’re a part of it all, too.”

(A single pair of pearl earrings.)

Hazel locks with your own, and you release a soft laugh, beams of amusements finally lighting your eyes, mirth building on your mouth. How long has it been since you’ve laughed because of him?

Azriel narrows his eyes, and the laughter dies on your tongue. “Oh.” The word whispers out on an exhale, subconsciously taking a step backward. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I thought—” You shake your head. “You’re just saying that.” He remains silent, watching you intently.

“They don’t—,” you fumble. Trying to find the words. “I mean, they—… We’re separate. Me, I mean. I’m not—”

“Yes you are.”

You shake your head, not accepting it. “You can’t expect me to believe that,” you mutter. “I’m not that naive.”

Azriel’s brow furrows. “Granted, you don’t make it easy. But you’re still part of it all.”

“So you—” You’re not sure if you can say it. “You don’t… You see me as family?”

It’s his turn to falter, coming up short. You shake your head in disbelief. “Azriel…”

His eyes narrow as he stares at you. Opens his mouth.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Let’s just… Let’s stay on track.” Otherwise it’s going to get ugly.

(you are a proving to be a burden.)

Lower lip trembles; you bite it, turning your attention to your desk. He’s quiet for a few moments, and the energy begins to settle.

“Why does family bother you so much?” He asks, quietly.

Breath whooshes from your lungs, and you place both your palms flat on the desk, so tired. “Because,” you sigh, eyelids weighing heavy. Massage the bridge of your nose with both your middle and forth fingers. “The feelings I have for you…those don’t belong to a family member.” Shame heats your cheeks, fingers covering you eyes. How many times do you have to say it?

“Why do you insist on targeting everything I’m uncomfortable talking about?” You ask, softly, hands remaining over your features, muffling you. Because if you don’t divert, he’ll target that, too. “You did the same in the air,” you whisper, “you get hung up on these tiny points and you can’t let them go and it’s…” You don’t know.

“It’s what?” He asks, coldly. Lip trembles at the tone, pushing away the dampness, lowering your hands. “Why do you do it?”

“It’s my job to get the details right,” he replies.

(Is this your preferred battleground? Verbal warfare?)

“I’m not your job, Azriel.”

“You are when you run off and have unmonitored chats with that male.”

“Eris, or Bas?” You ask quietly.

(You’re quite talented at it.)

He falters, then his jaw ticks, the muscle feathering. “We’ll talk about Bas in a minute,” he says. “For now, we’re talking about how you behave around Eris.” You stare at him. Blink. “I don’t know how to make it clearer,” he continues, watching the ceiling, head tipped upward slightly. Eyes flick down, looking as though you’re below him.

Lowers his head.

“Eris prefers verbal warfare,” he begins, repeating the same old things he’s already told you. Fingertips begin to itch.

Hazel pierces into you, muscle in his jaw tensing. “He’s good at it, too. Good enough to make all of us wary. Doesn’t that show enough?”

(You’re skilled with words, has anyone told you that?)

“I got that impression.”

He nods, no more than a gentle dip of his chin. “That’s good,” he sighs. “It’s a good start.” Something twists in your gut at the words.

“Just don’t go near him,” Azriel continues, unaware of the numbness that’s slowly spreading down your back. “Okay.” Hands move automatically, and you watch distantly as they go.

He sighs, “so tell me what happened most recently. All of it. Then I can tell you what’s good and what’s not.”

“I don’t remember all of it,” you mumble.

Why are you so tired? It’s not the same fatigue as after talking with Eris. That was pleasant. Your mind was tired from working. Now… You’re just tired of resisting.

“You said he asked about you living alone,” he prompts. You want to go to bed. Want to close the curtains and crawl deep under the sheets.

You nod distantly. “And you said you liked the quiet.”

Nod again.

“So what happened after that?” He’s gotten quieter, sensing your disengagement.

You shrug weakly. “We just talked.”

“This is what I mean,” he says gently, attempting to soften the words that need to be said. “Eris doesn’t do idle chatter. You have to start understanding that.”

You shake your head, denying, “he didn’t ask anything else.”

“But you were talking?” He asks pointedly, doubt clear.

You go quiet. Shoulders slope.

Azriel sighs, standing upright. There’s no use talking to you like this.

“Let’s try this another time. When you’re more… When you’re feeling better.” He waits a little for a response. Feel the weight of his gaze on your hands. You don’t respond, and he dips his head in acknowledgement. Allowing your peace.

But still, when he leaves, you’re torn between crying, and wanting to run after him.

Nothing’s gotten better.

You still crave his attention, even though it’s begun to hurt.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei

#CBMTHY #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You #CBMTHY Part 5 #Azriel #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Azriel x reader angst #angst #acotar #multi part fic #series

856 notes · View notes