#and this is the main and only face to face relationship i have so OF COURSE it affects me OF COURSE it affects me to know i can rely on my

[imagine-you]

don't turn your back on me [old man logan/reader]

Summary: "You would always remember the night the X-Men fell, because it was also the night you lost Logan." The first in a series of spinoffs from my main fic in my Home 'verse that explores different Wolverine variants and their relationships with the reader in their universes. Word Count: 6.3k Author's Notes: This isn't so much based on the movie Logan as it is the comic series Old Man Logan. In that series, it's Logan who kills the X-Men and not Professor X. Next up: Marvel Zombies/What If? crossover with zombified Wolverine and side Bucky/Reader for Halloween!

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You would always remember the night the X-Men fell, because it was also the night you lost Logan.  

You knew something was wrong before you even stepped through the doors of the mansion. It was late, but the mansion had never been so eerily still. It was always so full of life at every hour, with chatter and laughter and yelling. 

You weren't expecting the first body sprawled on the floor of the foyer. You fell to your knees, reaching out a shaky hand to feel for a sign of life, but it was pointless.  

Scott was dead.  

You weren't sure how long you stayed there, staring at him, before you realized he wasn't the only body. You followed the trail of fallen through the hallways of the mansion, dizzy and disoriented. You hadn't been gone for long, only a few hours. But how had you come back to this? How could any of this have happened? 

There was a shifting in your periphery, someone walking along the edge of the room, but your attention was caught by something else.  

It was Logan.  

You felt your breath leave you all in a rush at the sight before you. Logan, claws deep in Ororo's chest, snarling in her face as the life drained from her.  

"Logan?" 

Your voice sounded small, terrified, and for a moment you didn't even realize it was yours. Your heart was pounding as he slowly turned his gaze on you. He looked nearly feral, completely unaware of his surroundings. The man you loved more than anyone else would have never hurt Ororo or Scott no matter how much he fought with him. The man you loved wouldn't be getting to his feet, his claws still unsheathed, as he began to approach you. The man you loved wouldn't dare raise a hand, ready to sink his claws into you, his expression clouded with fury.  

"Victor," he snarled, poised to strike. "I should've known you'd be in on this," he spat before slashing down.  

You were quick to raise a forcefield, holding it in front of you like a shield to fend off his attack. He kept advancing, his movements frenzied as he tried to land a blow.  

All the while, there was that awareness at the edge of your vision. It was bothering you, but you couldn't take your eyes off Logan. He was single-minded in his attack, and he kept trying to break through your barrier.  

"Logan!" You shouted, hoping to get through to him. "Logan, it's me," you pleaded, keeping your defenses raised.  

You had a feeling that your current tactic wasn't going to work. Not if you wanted to figure out why the hell Logan had killed so many of his own team, his family, and why he thought you were Victor. So, you let yourself go invisible, quickly dropping your forcefield and moving off to the side.  

Logan stumbled forward, his claws getting momentarily stuck in the wall, before he pulled them free.  

"You can't hide from me, Victor," he roared, anger written into the lines of his body.  

You kept yourself hidden, not wanting to let Logan find you before you could figure out what the hell was going on. It was there, just on the edge of your vision, a shimmer of air that begged to be uncovered.  

You were so focused on finding the intruder that you backed right into a table, sending a vase toppling off the side. The sound of it crashing to the floor was loud, jarringly loud, in the room and Logan's eyes unerringly fixed on you.  

"There you are," he growled, his claws catching the light and sending your heart racing. "You won't get away from me that easily," he continued, his fist pulled back, poised to bring his claws down right into your throat.  

You managed to finally snag the anomaly in a forcefield, easily crushing it between one beat of your heart and the next. The tips of Logan's claws had just brushed against your throat when he reeled back, blinking at you in alarm.  

"Y/N? What the hell is going on? Where's Victor?" 

"Logan, look at me," you said, reaching out to cup his face in your hands, not wanting him to see the destruction that had befallen the mansion. You knew once he realized what happened, once he saw the bodies, he would lose it all over again. For now, you needed him here with you. "Victor was never here. I don't know what he showed you, but it wasn't your fault, okay?" 

"What?" Logan's brow furrowed in confusion, and he tried to turn his head, but you held firm. He could have easily shaken you off, but he seemed to realize it was what you needed from him. "Who? What are you talking about? They all showed up and just started attacking. I got most of them, I think, but--" 

"Mysterio," you blurted, recognizing the cape and glass shards of his helmet. Wade had always called him the magic fishbowl, but you couldn't even find humor in it now. "Mysterio must've created an illusion," you started to explain, not knowing how to keep your voice even. Your hands were shaking as you held his face, and you could feel tears begin to well in your eyes. You didn't know the extent of the damage, but the blood that coated nearly every surface didn't bode well for the team.  

"What," Logan snapped, finally tearing free of your hold. "But I got the young ones out. And then the team disappeared and then...and then...," he froze, his eyes finally taking in the outcome of his unintentional slaughter. "But it wasn't them," he muttered, his eyes focused in on the blood that had pooled beneath Jubilee's head. "It wasn't them, I swear," he said before he turned away from you. He cried out in anguish before falling to his knees. His head fell into his hands, and you could see his shoulders begin to shake.  

You shuffled forward, making sure to not make any sudden movements. You reached out a hand, briefly landing it on Logan's shoulder, but he shook you off.  

"Don't touch me," he snarled, snapping his head up. He looked over his shoulder in your direction but wouldn't make eye contact. "I did this." 

It sounded final, a revelation that would change Logan forever, and you knew he was starting to slip away from you.  

"Logan, it wasn't your fault. Mysterio tricked you and you couldn't have--" 

"I did this," Logan insisted, staring down at the blood on his hands. Suddenly, he was on his feet, and his hands were ripping at his uniform. He was half-naked by the time he turned a wild look on you before he was gone, storming out of the mansion.  

"Logan," you pleaded, following after him. You couldn't look at the bodies anymore and you couldn't stay at the mansion. Logan had always been your home, your everything, and you couldn't let him leave you now.  

By the time you got outside, there was no sign of Logan anywhere. You spotted something on the ground, and you bent down to pick it up. It was a scrap of his X-Men uniform, left abandoned and forgotten. You held it close to your chest before you took a few steps forward, eyeing the forest that bordered the property.  

Logan was somewhere in there and you intended to find him.  

Rumors and stories haunted you during the years you spent on Logan's trail. He never stayed in one place for too long, fleeing from location to location, as if the death he so easily craved was on his heels.  

You supposed, in a way, that was true.  

Logan refused to pop his claws. He didn't want to fight, all of his desire to be a hero had been torn out of him the night he unknowingly felled the X-Men. He suffered by himself, knowing that he couldn't die, so he would have to live with the memories of his team, his family dead.  

You wanted to take him by the shoulders and scream at him that you were still alive. He wasn't to blame for what happened to the X-Men, but he was to blame for what happened between the two of you. Did any of it mean so little to him? Did he really think you thought so little of him? Had the proposal and the promises of a future together simply vanish along with him the night that changed everything?  

You truly had nothing except for the small, brittle hope you were harboring that Logan would finally just stop running. So, you kept chasing him and cleaning up his messes along the way, because you felt like it was all you could do.  Logan was yours, the one person in the whole world that you knew was just for you. He had promised, with stolen kisses before you had to run off to teach mutant history or when he pressed you down into your bedsheets ready to wreck you in the best way, that you were his too.  

The fact that he never once looked back, never stayed in one place too long just to try to see if you could catch up, hurt more than you had words to describe.  

When the heroes fell, the villains rose. The country changed, becoming a playground for every human, mutant, and alien with villainous intent. Fear permeated the air everywhere you went, people terrified for their lives and their families, knowing that no one was coming to save them.  

During those years, you became known as Logan's shadow. Logan was no longer the Wolverine and wouldn't dare flash his claws, but you would happily wield whatever weapon necessary to make sure no one went after him. Where Logan went, death followed, because it fell on you to leave the body count in his wake.  

You saved people and gave them their livelihoods back, because you would never have yours again. You killed slumlords and murderers and anyone who sought joy from destruction, because it was people like them who had stolen your future with Logan from you. You watched Logan's back from afar and craved his touch, his look, his assurance, but going without every time.  

You had scars that would never heal and new terrors to haunt you in the night, but all you wanted was him. You felt like you were going insane, relentlessly chasing something you might never have again, but you found it difficult to relinquish hope.  

 You figured sooner or later, you would get lucky. If only for a moment, you just wanted to be in the same room as him. You wanted to walk into a space without knowing that you had missed him by only minutes before having to run after him again.  

You lucked out years down the line after taking out one of Norman Osborn's lackies in an abandoned warehouse district. You were in Osborn County, near what used to be Detroit, when you heard Logan's gruff voice coming from one of the buildings. He sounded tired, wrecked, and there was someone else's voice taunting him.  

"Can't get little Wolverine to come and play, can I? Too bad he's not here to join the party, because it's about to get real fun," the voice crowed before you heard a new voice.  

"Please! He's all I have," a woman begged, her voice breaking into a sob.  

You had been tracking Logan for long enough that you knew he was usually alone. So, you didn’t know how he had managed to stick around long enough to see the damage you were about to do. It was the usual routine for you two. Trouble found Logan, Logan fled, and you swept in and took care of the problem.  

This wasn’t at all how it was supposed to go, and you felt a little thrill of anticipation run through you at the thought of seeing him.  

You hadn’t been this close to him in years, and you wondered why he was still hanging around. You weren't sure if it was where he had been crashing before moving on, but now as you were trying to get a glimpse into the building, you could see a makeshift camp in the corner of the room.  

Logan was on his knees, glaring at someone, and when you shifted to the side, you could see a man with a knife to a kid's throat. He didn't look older than fifteen, tears streaming down his face as he stared death down. There was also a woman with another guy behind her, holding a gun to her head.  

"Just kill me," the woman begged, holding her hands out. “Kill me and let him go. He doesn’t deserve to die.” 

"You don't pay us and now we kill your boy," the guy behind her spat. "And lookie here, we've got a live audience," he nodded over at Logan. "'cept he's not gonna do anything, 'cause he's a chickenshit now." 

Logan looked so defeated and you knew he was struggling with himself. He wanted to help the woman and her son, but he was done killing. You watched him for a moment, so relieved to even just see him, despite the circumstances.  

Logan drew in a deep breath before his head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours where you were still hidden in the darkness. He took another breath, and you knew he had caught your scent. His expression morphed from disbelief to heartbreak to acceptance. He dipped his head in a tiny nod, silently giving you the go ahead.  

You stepped out of the shadows that had shielded you, shedding your invisibility, and smirked at the two guys who had landed themselves on your target list.  

"He might not do anything," you started, forming a forcefield around the one with the knife. "But I sure as hell will." 

"What the hell?" The one with the gun gasped, turning it on you.  

You easily deflected the bullet with a forcefield while you trapped the guy with the knife. You snapped your forcefield closed, only his hand holding the knife free outside of it, and watched it fall to the ground. Blood began to coat the sides of your forcefield while the guy screamed in agony.  

You formed another forcefield around the gun in the other guy's hand and jerked it free, watching him stumble in an attempt to pull it back. It clattered uselessly to the floor, several feet away and out of reach.  

You let another forcefield encase the guy's head, offering him a goodbye wave, before you let the sides collapse, taking his skull with it. His body fell to the ground, limbs still uselessly twitching, as the field held the remnants of his brain and bones and eyes. You let it all fall to the floor with a grotesque splat before turning your attention on the other guy who was still mourning the loss of his hand.  

The woman had grabbed her son and was clutching at his shoulders, desperately trying to prove to herself that he was unharmed. Once she was satisfied, she pulled him close and then fled for the door, not even sparing a glance back as you pried the knife from the guy's disembodied hand.  

You turned towards the man still in your forcefield and let it drop. He raised his head to sneer up at you.  

"You'll regret this," he claimed, falling back onto the floor. "People are payin' attention to you! You can't just do whatever the hell you want." 

"Yeah, whatever," you sighed, before taking the knife and striking out with it, catching him in the chest.  

You watched the man die, his blood pooling at your feet, before you turned your attention towards the other man snared in one of your forcefields.  

Logan's shoulders were slumped as you approached him.  

"Don't," he sighed, shaking his head. He was kneeling on the floor, leaning his forehead against your forcefield, but he wasn't actively trying to escape.  

He knew it would be a useless endeavor.  

You took a precious moment to catalogue all the little differences you noticed since the last time you saw him. His hair now had a couple of streaks of grey and the lines in his face were more pronounced. Logan had started to age, just the tiniest bit, and you hated that you had missed the opportunity to see him evolve over the years. It was another thing he had denied you and you didn’t know if you would ever fully forgive him for it.  

"I've waited years for this moment," you reminded him, sinking to your knees so you were at his level. "I'm not going anywhere, Logan, and until you hear me out, you aren't either." 

Logan had his eyes closed, but he finally opened them to meet yours. "What do you want?" 

You let out a humorless laugh, reaching a hand out to place it against the forcefield.  

"You," you answered, because it should have been obvious. "I've only ever wanted you, but you don't want me. Not anymore. Or else you wouldn't have run from me. Not for ten fucking years." 

Logan snorted, sitting back enough to give you a disbelieving look. "I've always wanted you," he refuted, briefly letting the want and longing he had been suppressing flash across his face. "But I don't deserve you. Not after what I did." 

"I don't blame you," you assured him, your hands beginning to tremble. You wanted so badly to reach out and pull him into your arms, but you were scared to drop your forcefield. He would run away again, and you were tired of him leaving you in the dust. "I wouldn't have chased you all these years if I thought for one second that you were to blame." 

"Let me go," he begged you. "I'm not that guy anymore. I can't be that guy for you anymore." 

"Yes, you can," you hissed, anger starting to rise, overtaking desperation. "I don't want Wolverine, I've only ever wanted you, Logan. You don't have to be a hero again, but I just want you with me. Isn't that enough? Just us?" 

Logan wouldn't meet your eyes, and you crashed your fist into your forcefield, hating that he wouldn't even look at you. Your heart was breaking all over again and a part of you was starting to wish you hadn't caught up to him at all.  

"Stop being a coward," you snarled, getting to your feet. You turned your back on Logan and walked away from him, relishing the idea of making him chase after you for once. "You're not the only one in pain," you reminded him. "You're not the only one who lost their entire family that night. But the difference between us is you chose to run away from me, but I didn't want that. I never wanted you to leave me, but you didn't even give me the fucking choice." Your hands were clenched into fists at your sides, and you could barely keep them from shaking. "You know what," you started, finally making your decision. "If you want to go, then you can fucking leave again." You dropped your forcefield, keeping your back to him. You didn't know what was more pathetic. That you couldn't watch him abandon you again or that you knew you would still follow him once he was gone.  

You weren't prepared for Logan's hand on your shoulder or when he turned you around to look at him. His expression was a mix of despair and frustration and want.  

"You want me that much?" He got out between gritted teeth. "You want the guy who murdered our family? Who has only ever thought of you this whole time and what was best for you?" 

"That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it. If you gave a shit about me, you would stop running," you seethed at him. "The guy who murdered our family is dead, because I fucking killed him! All you've done for the past ten years is run, Logan. Aren't you fucking tired of running?" 

"You deserve better than me," he argued, his hands coming up to grip your arms. "Why can't you just let me go?" 

"Because I fucking love you, you absolute moron," you snarled before pressing your lips to his, not wanting to argue any longer. You had spent ten years alone, desolate and grieving, and when you imagined this moment during lonely nights, you never quite managed to think it would be so full of hostility.  

Logan froze for a moment before he responded in kind. His hands were tight bands around your forearms and his teeth nipped at your lips, begging entrance you eagerly granted. You slipped your hands beneath his shirt and raked your nails down his back, wanting to make him hurt. You wished you could leave your mark on him, but he would only heal within seconds.  

Harsh kisses were followed by soft whimpers, and you tore your mouth free, obligingly baring your neck to him when he trailed his lips along your jaw towards your throat. He bit kisses into your skin, soothing the sting with his tongue, before moving on to the next one.  

You didn't know how you got across the room or when he lowered you down onto his makeshift bed. All you could recognize was that Logan was holding you in his arms and whispering a promise against your mouth.  

He still loved you.  

He told you that over and over again until you started to believe him.  

Logan was out of his shirt before you could get rid of yours. He reached down, helping you tug your shirt up over your head before his hands fell to the waistband of your jeans. He met your eyes, silently asking permission, and you nodded your head, hoping you didn't appear too eager.  

It had been so long since you felt Logan and you didn't realize just how much you needed him. The feel of his body against yours and his hands wrapped around your hips and his breath warming the side of your neck before he sucked another kiss into your flesh.  

It felt like an eternity before you were both completely bared to each other. Logan was kneeling on the floor, a question in his eyes, and you nodded your head. Your legs fell open easily, admitting Logan until he was all you could feel.  

The sex was fast and nearly punishing, both of you taking out years of aggression and want on the other. It was all-consuming, you could feel, hear, taste, see, and smell nothing but Logan. His tongue was in your mouth and your legs were wrapped around his hips, urging him to quicken his pace. You were covered in bruises and aching, but all you could think about was how much you had missed Logan. You poured every ounce of your want into the moans being wrung out of you and when you gasped, your head tilted back as you chased your end, all you could think about on the fall down was how much you didn't want it to be over.  

You half-expected Logan to get up and leave, but he stayed right there with you. He maneuvered the two of you until he was on his back and you were curled up into his side, your head resting on his shoulder with his arm around your waist.  

You chanced a glance up at him, terrified that it had all been a dream. "I'm scared," you found yourself admitting.  

Logan quirked an eyebrow at you, his hand gently rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. "Why scared?" 

You had so many things to be scared about, but most of all you were scared that Logan was already slipping away from you again.  

You didn't want to confess that, so you settled for something else.  

"My luck is going to run out eventually," you pointed out with a grimace. "You go around killing villains in a country run by villains, and the wrong people take notice. They'll get me sooner or later. That dead guy over there said as much earlier." 

Logan was silent for a few torturous, drawn-out moments before he finally sighed. "Then you should go home. Stop running after me." 

You let out an annoyed huff before you sat up, staring down at him in disbelief. "Home, Logan? I don't have a home. You," you stressed, poking him in the chest, "are my home, you idiot." You turned away from him, reaching out for your clothes. You were suddenly freezing, and you had no desire to run around in the same conversational circles with Logan again.  

"Just, c'mere," Logan breathed, reaching out to tug you back into his arms once you were dressed again. "I don't know if I'll ever stop running," he confessed, holding tight when you made to move away again. "Because every time I think about it, I remember their blood on my hands. They were my family and I was supposed to protect them, but I slaughtered them. They screamed, you know, but I thought it was Sinister and Bullseye and other jackasses we'd spent our whole lives fighting. But it was Storm, Cyclops, Jubilee, Beast," he listed, his grip tightening on you with each one. "And it was almost you. Mysterio had me so convinced you were Victor, I was about to slice your head off with my claws. I tried so hard to just get rid of myself, because I knew I'd never be able to erase what I did. I don't know how to just stand still and face what I've done. But God, you make me want to try. You make me want to be better, but all I've done is hurt you and force you to kill for me. I'm the reason you've got that target on your back." 

"It's not your fault," you reiterated for what you felt like must have been the thousandth time since the night the X-Men fell. "Mysterio and all those villains who took advantage of what happened to our family are to blame. You loved them all so much and they knew that, Logan. I'm not asking you to face your demons for me, but I just want to go with you where you go and not arrive days later, searching for you. If you can't stay still, then that's okay, because I'll run with you." 

Logan pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, pulling in a deep breath, drawing in your scent. "Get some rest," he replied, keeping you pressed close to him. "I get the feeling you haven't had a good night's sleep in a while. I'll watch out for you." 

You knew it was Logan's way of avoiding the issue, but you still felt a breath of relief escape you. Half the time, you had to sleep with one hand on a weapon, waiting for an attack. You couldn't remember the last time you had fallen asleep feeling safe, and now in Logan's hold, you could already feel yourself begin to drift off.  

You took a chance, pressing a brief kiss to Logan's shoulder. "I love you," you whispered, knowing he would hear you.  

You were asleep before you could hear Logan's response, if he even had one.  

When you woke in the morning, you were alone.  

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself believe that Logan was coming back, before you forced yourself to face reality.  

As you stood, you tried to stretch the aches out of your body. Sleeping on the floor hadn't been the brightest idea, but when you had been so fully embraced by Logan, it hadn't mattered. Now, you were cold, alone, and felt incredibly vulnerable.  

Later, you would blame the heartbreak that had transcended into resignation. You were so blinded by being left behind again that you didn't even notice the hit coming.  

Something rolled across the floor and landed right at your feet. It took you a stupidly long moment to realize it was one of Osborn's pumpkin bombs. You brought your hands up, only having enough time to form a half-assed forcefield, before the bomb went off.  

You were thrown back into the wall behind you before falling to the floor, your head bouncing painfully off your forcefield on the way down. You didn't even realize you had dropped it until a tentacle slammed down into the floor beside you followed by another on your other side, cutting off any hope of an exit you might have.  

When your vision focused again, you saw three figures staring down at you.  

"Wakey wakey," Green Goblin sang, tilting his head to the side as he observed you. "We've been looking for you." 

"Thought you could escape us?" Victor Creed growled, flexing his claws.  

You didn't know whether it was hilarious or depressing that Logan had left you, but his brother had somehow shown up in his place. As you stared up at the last villain, Omega Red, you wondered how you could have been so stupid. You had let your guard down, for Logan, and now you were going to get yourself killed. You had spent years killing goons and lackies and now their bosses were here to exact revenge.  

If you were going down, then you resolved to at least try to take someone with you.  

Victor would be the easiest, so you turned a smirk up at him. He seemed briefly confused before you formed a forcefield around his body and attempted to crush him, but it was at that moment Osborn flipped a switch on the device strapped to his wrist. At the same time, Omega Red used one of his tentacles, the end of it pointed into a sharp lance, and slammed it down into your calf. You could feel the bone break and you instinctively tried to jerk away from him, but you couldn't go anywhere. The attack was followed up by a mist spraying from Osborn's device and you suddenly felt like your skin was on fire.  

You knew you were screaming, and you wished for nothing more than the ability to stop, but pain had enveloped you so completely. You weren't even sure if the others were actively hurting you or Norman just wanted to you to lose your mind. After your screams died out, simply because your throat felt worn raw and you couldn't pull in anymore breath into your lungs, Norman sprayed another mist.  

The relief was nearly instantaneous, but the moment was short-lived.  

You were shaking uncontrollably, and you knew without a doubt that you couldn't use your power even if you had the energy to try. You felt so weakened that you could barely lift your head when Victor crouched over you. He slashed his claws across your face, leaving blood to pour freely from the gash across your cheek.  

"Too bad my brother doesn't want you anymore," he sneered, pressing his claws to your shoulder before digging in.  

You didn't have it in you to scream anymore and you felt your head loll forward, dark spots dancing in your vision.  

You knew there was no walking away from this. At least, you consoled yourself, you had known Logan for one more night. It might not have been perfect, but it was what you needed. Victor's claws came up to caress your throat and you imagined them easily slicing through your flesh, ending your life.  

You closed your eyes, wanting to think about nothing but Logan in your final moments, when you heard his voice.  

"Get the fuck away from her," Logan snarled, and you were half-convinced that it was all in your head. He should have been long gone by now, already crossing state borders in a bid to put some distance between the two of you.  

But when you managed to open your eyes, it was to see Logan at Omega Red's back. Osborn was simply watching Logan, as if he was waiting for the show, and Omega Red already had his tentacles curling out to attack Logan.  

"Looks like little Logan has come out to play," Osborn mocked, taking a few steps back to put some distance between them. He went back to the device on his wrist, and you whimpered at the idea of the unceasing pain.  

Logan shot you a worried look, but he didn't take his attention away from the three villains threatening you. He sidestepped one of Omega Red's attacks, making it look nearly effortless.  

"I said get the fuck away from her," Logan reiterated, turning his attention on Victor. "I'm not gonna ask you again, bub." 

Victor laughed, letting his claws break the skin of your throat. "I'm not scared of you. You haven't popped your claws in years. You're just a pathetic piece of shit, Logan, and now you're gonna watch your girlfriend die." 

Logan watched the blood trail down your neck before he met your eyes. There was a moment when all you could see was the fear in Logan's eyes when you sincerely thought he was going to watch Victor slash your throat. You knew that losing another person he loved would destroy him all over again and you didn't want him to have to watch.  

"Just go," you pleaded, not wanting your death on Logan's conscience as well. "It's okay." 

Logan looked so heartbroken for a moment, his eyes never once leaving yours as his hands began to tremble. But then you could see rage fall over him and he flicked his wrists, letting his claws descend.  

Between one slow blink of your eyes and the next, Logan was standing behind Victor. 

"The name's not Logan," he started, before he made a quick movement that sunk his claws right into Victor's neck. "It's Wolverine," he snarled before pulling his claws free, messy and bloody, leaving Victor's head to roll back on his shoulders before falling to the floor.  

Osborn and Omega Red didn't move for one shocked moment before they both descended on Logan. He made quick work of Green Goblin, stabbing him over and over again with his claws until Osborn's insides were spilling out of him and his face was indistinguishable beneath his cracked mask.  

Omega Red proved to be a tougher challenge for Logan. His claws didn't do much to Omega Red and you knew that it might be hours before either one of them got the upper hand. You managed to use all the strength you had reserved, waiting for your perfect moment to strike, before forming a forcefield around Omega Red. He struck out, trying to pierce through it with his tentacles, but you were determined not to let him go anywhere.  

You let it shrink and shrink, keeping a tight hold on your control. You wanted to savor Omega Red's demise, knowing that it might be the last time you got to take down a villain. You finally closed your hand into a fist, crushing Omega Red in your forcefield, stubbornly holding it long after you knew he was dead.  

Logan was at your side, pressing a torn blanket to the wound in your leg.  

"I'm here, sweetheart," he soothed, and you realized then that you had been reaching out for him, your breath leaving you on a whimper. "I'm sorry. I never should've left you here." He was careful as he slid one arm beneath your knees and used the other to brace your back. "Arms around my neck," he ordered, barely giving you time to comply before he was lifting you up.  

"Where are we going?" You croaked, your throat sore and limbs weak as you clung to him.  

"Anywhere but here," Logan answered, carrying you out of the warehouse. "Someone's gonna come sniffing around sooner or later and I want to get you as far away from here as I can." 

You could feel yourself beginning to drift now that your adrenaline had faded. "Will you be there when I wake up?" You made yourself ask, terrified that Logan would drop you off at a hospital and make a break for it.  

"I'm never leaving you again," Logan promised you as he approached a van.  

You weren't sure where he got it, but you were grateful for it when he helped you lie down in the back of it.  

You must have given him a skeptical look, because Logan grabbed your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. "From now on, we'll run together," he said, cupping a hand to your cheek. "If you'll have me," he amended, brushing his fingers over the cuts Victor had left on your face. "I wouldn't forgive me if I was you." 

"Yeah, well, you're not me," you pointed out, bringing a hand up to squeeze his wrist. "And I love you, Logan. I never stopped loving you." You had crossed state lines and fought and bled and cried all for Logan. You would have kept chasing him for the rest of your life, because he was all you had.  

Logan gifted you an uncertain smile and you knew he felt like he didn't deserve your devotion. "I'll spend the rest of my life earning that," he told you before pressing a kiss to your forehead.  

"I never wanted you to have to be the Wolverine again," you tried to console him, knowing how much he had sacrificed letting his claws free again. "But thank you for saving me." 

Logan huffed out an amused breath, gifting you with a look like he couldn't believe you were real. "You're the one who saved me," he pointed out, maneuvering himself until he could lie down at your side. Your eyelids had started to droop and you were fighting sleep. "Now, try to get some rest. I'll be here when you're ready to wake up." 

You reached out, grasping Logan's hand in yours. "I'm going to hold you to that," you let him know before letting yourself fall asleep, finally feeling safe with the knowledge that Logan wasn't planning on leaving you again. 

Author's Notes: @the-gentle-spirit had the idea that each Wolverine had their own Y/N and that the Y/N in the main fic 'won't somebody come take me home' truly had the worst Logan in her universe before she met the Logan from Deadpool and Wolverine. Every other Logan is stupidly in love with their Y/N, so the fact that that Logan could let her go so easily was truly an anomaly. So, each chapter will be a different variant, starting with Old Man Logan as a birthday gift to myself. 🎉🥳 If you want to be tagged in this series or in all of my Logan fics, just let me know!

All Logan Taglist: @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @slightlymediocree @snowyminty @i-wear-wet-socks313 @shizzybarnaclee

[temis-de-leon]

Male!MC as the future king of the Devildom

Characters: Diavolo x male!MC (established relationship) with stellar cameos from Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmo and Barbatos

Main Masterlist

@beawesome04: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a one-shot of Diavolo reacting to being in another world where he meets the Male! Reader as the Future King of Devildom! Only that instead of the reader being the kind-hearted transfer student (Basically how MC acts in game), this Reader is a lot more serious and isolated. Hope this is good!

A/N: cannot believe that the roulette worked

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It wasn’t the first time his eagerness had gotten the best of him, but to be fair, what else was he supposed to do when the circumstances of his life forced him to be so lonely and bored? With Barbatos and Lucifer always reminding him to do his work every hour of the day, who was he to ignore such tempting opportunities?

Plus, it wasn’t like he went searching for the mirror.

He had been merely strolling around the castle, hiding from his butler, when an old wooden door closed with a thud and left him trapped in a dusty room. Everything there had aged badly in abandonment except the mirror. It was a heavily magically charged object and its golden frame shined in the dark, engraved with creatures and symbols from the three realms that merged at the top. One of the corners showed a dragon curled around a lamb, both resting in a peaceful embrace, and he couldn’t help but think about you.

Sadly, sneaking around and having secret dates left you with an obscene amount of schoolwork, just like him, and although you always said you were aware of the consequences, he knew he should be more responsible. His burdens were too heavy to share and the last thing he wanted to do was selfishly take the time you could use for leisure.

Something changed in front of him and he finally realised that the mirror hadn’t shown any reflection until then, but it wasn’t entirely accurate; his eyes weren’t golden anymore, instead a light shade of brown, and he was wearing the generic RAD uniform. However, when he looked down, it was still red.

Diavolo hummed, too intrigued to turn around and continue his little escapade. In the blink of an eye, he switched to his demon form and although the mirror followed his movements, it didn’t change his appearance.

He turned back and stared again.

He looked human.

And just like that, as if his revelation triggered the powers of the mirror, a wave softly covered the surface of the glass and turned his reflection into a blur. A light showed in the middle while the room remained in the dark. Diavolo could only look, mouth agape and eyes open wide, as the brightness in front of him grew and slowly disintegrated the glass, shards turning to ashes before falling to the ground.

Then, in the span of just a second, the light engulfed him and he disappeared.

.

.

Powerful magic sucked him out of the room, pulling him through a suffocating white tunnel until he fell backwards on something soft, which, judging by the duvet and the pillows, was a bed.

Your bed, if he remembered correctly. How would he be wrong, anyway? It was the most recognisable room he’d ever seen. The bedding was pink and there was a tree above him; it was unmistakable.

The change of scenery brought a wide smile to his face and he wasted no time in getting up to search for you, but he was soon met with disappointment.

While it was true that you were the one who did most of the visits and he only went to the House of Lamentation on celebrations or for meetings with Lucifer, he had seen your room enough to know this wasn’t your room.

Just like his brand-new brown eyes or his black uniform, there was something familiar about his surroundings that slightly unnerved him, like the pictures on the walls. His face was plastered on all of them, mainly with the brothers, but there were some with the angels, Solomon, Barbatos and you as well. Not as many as he’d like, though, and while you looked happy in the pictures, your smile wasn’t as big as usual.

And your eyes had also changed, hadn’t they? Were your canine teeth sharper, too?

“Dia!” sang a voice from the other side of the door, making him jerk in surprise. “Are you coming out, hon’? You’re supposed to be at the castle in twenty minutes; let me see what you’re wearing!”

He stood there, unable to say anything coherent while frantically looking around for clues. There were clothes his size scattered around the room and his DDD, if that was even still its name, was charging on the table.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” Asmo talked again.

“Me? Y- Yes, I am!”

“Then come out, silly, I want to see you”

“Yeah, I figured” he whispered to himself.

He was wearing the black uniform, but it was wrinkled and the shirt had partially come out of his pants. “The other him” had probably been napping before changing places. Was he in that dusty old room in the castle, then? Was he about to get lectured by Barbatos once he was caught sneaking around? His trusted butler would probably guess the unusualness of the situation, however.

Though Barbatos would probably lose his mind once he realised the prince was lost in an unknown location.

Diavolo was sure everything would be okay.

Smiling in uncontained excitement, he hurried to the table, looked at the screen and let his heart hammer against his chest as he read the messages; Lord MC was asking him whether he wanted to stay for dinner or not and he’d be crazy if he ever rejected that offer, especially in the strange circumstances he was living.

“Hey, Diavolo! Check this out!”

“Mammon…!”

The cheery demon opened the door with a slam, entering without any care in the world while flaunting a shiny black card. Asmo trailed after him with a frown on his face, but his brother wasn’t paying him or his protests any attention.

“I got Goldie back, so you better get ready to leave the house and go to the casino. I didn’t work hard to earn this money for nothing!”

Diavolo smiled back at his grin but didn’t say anything and watched instead as Asmo laughed in incredulity and mockery. Soon the room was filled with jabs and well-thought insults while both brothers went at each other’s throats, and before anyone could do anything too drastic, Satan appeared at the door and rolled his eyes at the spectacle.

“You want us to believe that you earned this money legally and honestly?”

“Why would you say it like that? You make me look like a thief!”

“That’s what you are, you useless scumbag!”

The argument didn’t show signs of dying any time soon so, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be at the Demon Lord’s castle in just a few minutes, Diavolo silently grabbed his phone and tip-toed towards Satan, who was waiting for him with a hopeless expression.

“So many years have passed and they still manage to embarrass me…” he lamented with a frown before swiftly closing the door and inviting Diavolo to walk beside him. “I thought you had plans with MC, aren’t you running a bit late?”

A wave of excitement flooded his veins at the mention of your name, but he forced himself to calm down. It wasn’t you who he had plans with, after all; it was another version of you that had every right to sit on his throne and bear what was otherwise his title. Did you have a demon form too? Were your duties as demanding as his? Were you as eager to run away from work as him? There was only one way to find out.

“I fell asleep” he ended up answering with no intention to continue. If Satan had expected a longer explanation he said nothing, but his silence was telling enough.

The Avatar of Wrath had stayed quiet because he wasn’t surprised. This Diavolo, the human version who was so similar yet different to the demon prince, overslept and wore a wrinkly uniform. He lived with the brothers and had no responsibilities other than being a good human world representative and surviving every adversity that was thrown his way.

How exciting!

They were at the main entrance before he could realise it and if he thought his day couldn’t get any better, he was very wildly wrong.

“Diavolo!” called a voice from the top of the stairs. “Where in Lord MC’s name is Mammon? Have you seen him?”

“Of course!” he answered with uncontained glee and Satan stared at him with raised eyebrows.

Although not as exhausted as his other version, Lucifer looked the same. He was even grumpy and everything! A deep frown on his face as he gracefully walked down the stairs, all the while mumbling insults and curses against the second born.

“So? Where is he? And don’t bother hiding and defending him; you know there will be consequences for you as well if you help him”

Diavolo had to bite down a giggle. There he was, his best friend, looking at him with darkness in his eyes, a mean smile and arms crossed over his chest. His words undoubtedly carried a real threat, but Diavolo was so thrilled about his adventure that he simply could not take him seriously.

“You will find him in no time, I’m sure” he laughed, leaving the eldest brother unimpressed and the younger amused. “I’m in a hurry, though. Lord MC is waiting for me”

That seemed to do the trick. Lucifer’s eyes opened wide in shock and one of his hands clutched his chest while the other hastily pushed Diavolo towards the door.

“Well, don’t keep him waiting then” he said in a scolding tone. However, once they were finally out of the house, his voice turned lower and softer. “See if you can distract him a little bit. Barbatos has been trying to get him out of his office, but you know how he is; if our friendship was closer, I would’ve tried myself, but I think that’s a job for you”

He tried not to stare in confusion, but the words had left him speechless. So far, the alternate universe shown by the mirror had proven to be one where Diavolo was in your place and you in his, so Lucifer’s plead was nonsensical in his head.

He would never barricade himself in his office for more than necessary, let alone turn down Barbatos’s advice to rest, so why did you? It didn’t make sense to see you, a human so cheerful and kind, as someone so closed and isolated; but seeing you doing so in a universe where you were supposed to fill his shoes was way, way more perplexing.

“Is everything alright, Diavolo?”

“Are you feeling okay?” asked Satan leaning over his brother’s shoulder.

They were both looking at him with worry and, thankfully, no suspicion. However, if he didn’t try to act more casually, someone would eventually figure out that he wasn’t the Diavolo they loved.

He knew very well how his version of the brothers, and everyone else for that matter, would act in a scenario where your safety was in question. He was in no hurry to discover if these alternate versions would react the same way.

“I’m fine” he said quickly, trying to downplay his behaviour. “I just didn’t sleep very well, that’s all”

That appeared to be enough for the moment.

Satan smiled and waved goodbye, wishing him a nice evening before entering the house. Lucifer crossed his arms again before bidding farewell.

“Please, do have a good time”

Then his eyes went back to the darkness.

“Rest assured, however, if I don’t find Mammon, there will be a proper punishment waiting for you upon your return”

And that time, he did feel chills up his spine.

.

.

His excitement had run down by the time he finally arrived at the castle.

While the city’s skeleton remained the same, the ambience reflected a side of the Devildom that he had never known. His kingdom was alive, full of colours even in eternal night and perpetually changing alongside those who populated it. This land, however, was muter; more elegant than casual. Every demon wore their true forms and spoke in mellow, cautious voices, blending in the dark and the breeze and moving as fast as he blinked.

It wasn’t dark or gloomy, as he saw various open stores and restaurants at full capacity, but it was certainly tamer… Conservative was the word.

Just like his Devildom showed the way he ruled as the future king, its alternate version was an obvious example of your leadership.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. Just how different were you?

He took out his phone, fingers just a tad uncoordinated due to nerves, and sighed when he saw no messages from you. You must have been used to his human version’s tardiness. There were, however, at least a dozen messages from Asmo; a mix of crying stickers and pleads that didn’t help ease his mind. He decided to read only the most recent ones.

Did you seriously leave the house wearing your wrinkly uniform?? I could’ve helped you choose something better! At least you’re already dating and you don’t have to impress him… But next time I’m making you even more beautiful! Also, insist on the foam party!! Lucifer will kill us if we do it at the HOL, but we need MC’s permission to use The Fall! And you know how he is.

And then more crying stickers.

Did he know how you were, though?

His mind went blank when the castle’s door appeared in his line of sight. There was no time to back down and he didn’t want to do it either, but would he be able to if he ever wanted to return?

Closing his eyes as he raised his hand to knock on the door, Diavolo searched for that deep root in his chest that connected every piece of his body and soul. It felt crimson and black, like coagulated blood, but also white and golden; hope for his future and his crown. While settled at the deepest end of his heart, its energy moved with tendrils; you would compare them to axons whenever he tried to explain it to you.

He searched and searched and bile went up his throat when he found nothing. His breath quickened and cold sweat covered his skin the moment he couldn’t transform into his demon form; the fear hitting him so forcefully that he felt himself grow lightheaded, falling forward against the door with his whole body.

It opened almost instantly and someone extremely familiar wasted no time in helping him stand.

“Diavolo! Are you okay?”

“I feel awful…”

The words left him before he even thought about them, but he guessed that was Barbatos’s effect on him, no matter the universe.

Gloved hands immediately straightened him, gently pushing him inside before closing the door and taking him to the kitchen, where he was seated and promptly served a warm cup of tea.

He looked up with a raised brow, showing his amazement like an open book, and received a soft laugh in return. The butler was worried about him, but Diavolo could tell he was trying to remain as calm as possible, probably not to freak him out even further.

“We thought you’d arrive sooner, so I prepared it a little while ago, but don’t worry, Lucifer warned me you were distracted by the brothers back at the House of Lamentation. And also that you were feeling a bit under the weather. Is that true? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Diavolo realised in that instant that acting casual would be an impossible feat. If looking at Barbatos was unnerving enough, then spending time with you would likely make his brain stop functioning. You were, based on what he had seen and heard so far, a solemn prince of a lonely nature, which was already too different from what he knew.

Being a magicless human with no definitive allies, he hoped the other version of you would be as wise and understanding as the boyfriend he was happily dating, but chances of survival based on speculation and trust were very slim.

Thankfully, he had the advantage of dating you in both universes. The thought alone warmed his entire body and he had to cover his mouth with a hand to hide his lovesick grin.

“I’m honoured, Barbatos” he said, trying to justify his abrupt giddiness. “Don’t worry about me, please, I’m just tired… And impatient to see MC as well”

There was a beat of silence before the demon chuckled with understanding, seemingly convinced by his answer, but Diavolo knew enough about fake smiles and his butler’s mannerisms to notice the way his green eyes had quickly scanned him from head to toe during that short second. The mixture of the blissfulness that dating you in both universes brought and the fear of being studied by a strange version of his friend was making his heart go crazy.

He asked himself, with unfamiliar horror, if the irregular flutter of his heart was audible beyond the confinements of his chest.

Suddenly, the kitchen door opened and a flow of fresh air entered the space.

“Diavolo, you’re finally here”

“My Lord”

Barbatos bowed immediately, an arm over his chest and another behind his back. You tilted your head in acknowledgement before observing your surroundings with contained curiosity, surely searching for what was taking so long. Finally, after finding nothing, you turned around and gave Diavolo a small smile.

He could barely return the gesture in time.

“I was about to go search for you, my Lord” said the butler with a polite expression, briefly looking at Diavolo before centring all of his attention on you. “It seems you were faster; I apologize”

“You were hosting my guest of honour, no need to apologize”

“Allow me to do so, sir”

“Very well, then”

The reflection of a mirror was not oneself. It was an image in reverse, only similar to reality on the surface.

You were there, but it wasn’t you.

There was no shine on your eyes, nor smile wrinkles on your cheeks. The red uniform looked unnatural on your body, more like a costume than a formal attire, and the way you stood in the middle of the room made him frown in discomfort. You looked regal and imposing, but not like the man he loved.

“Are you okay, Dia?”

Barbatos hummed in amusement before he could answer and you looked at him with a questioning glance.

“That seems to be the question of the day, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean…?”

“I slept awfully” he hurried an answer, but that proved to be worse.

The knowing glint in Barbatos’s stare felt like a sentence, which caught your attention and raised your suspicion. There was an unspoken conversation between you and your butler and before Diavolo had time to say anything else, you looked at him with both arms behind your back and spoke in a non-committal tone.

“Would you please wait outside? It will only take a moment”

He nodded and forced himself to get up from his seat. His body felt like an unoiled engine, joints cracking uncomfortably and making him cringe, but that wasn’t what was making him wince. It was the sensation of having no magic and no support in case anything went bad, of the idea of being perceived as an impostor whose intentions were still unknown.

The silence followed him as he left the kitchen and the last thing he saw before closing the door was the cup of tea he hadn’t touched, still full and no longer warm.

Could he find the dusty room where the mirror was located? He’d probably be able to retrace his steps from his office, but he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to reach the office without being caught first. One of the servants would eventually see him and report to Barbatos and then it would only be a matter of time before his fate was sealed.

But what other option did he have? Convince you that he meant no harm and that his other version was safe? He didn’t even know if he was safe! For all he knew, the human Diavolo could be experimenting with his new powers and driving Barbatos and Lucifer mad! The other six brothers were probably having a field day, which just made everything worse.

He supposed the best he could do was lay low and get on your good graces, although that might be difficult if he was impersonating your boyfriend.

Quite the adventure, indeed.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he heard the hinges again and saw you emerge from the kitchen. Your calm demeanour did nothing to ease his nerves, but he still placed himself beside you when you started to walk away.  

He tried to ignore Barbatos’s presence following far behind them.

Of course, he had no such luck.

.

.

Somehow, being alone with you didn’t make him as apprehensive as the others had eventually made him feel. Sure, the silence between you was uncomfortable and tense as a string, but at least he could distract himself by observing the flowers in the path and the nocturnal birds flying over your heads.

Just like the structure of the city, the flora and fauna of the Devildom remained the same in both universes, so being surrounded by the familiarity of something so simple was probably what was helping him stay grounded and keeping him from spiralling.

You took him for a stroll through the gardens, distractedly caressing the leaves and the petals as you passed and scratching the surface of the water when you went around the fountains. Not a single word was said, yet your tranquillity didn’t quiver. Perhaps, as non-social as you were as a prince, the silence was your source of comfort.

A long half an hour passed until you finally decided it was time to sit down and have a talk, although it might have been shorter; not once did Diavolo dare to grab his phone and check the time.

The wooden bench was wide enough to sit comfortably without being glued to each other, but he still leaned against the armrest and tried his hardest to ignore the way the ornate iron dug into his skin. You seemed to pay no mind, quietly admiring the horizon while the moon lighted your face and the breeze moved your hair. Diavolo couldn’t help but stare in wonder, wishing his beloved boyfriend was there instead. His fantasy was shattered, however, when you turned to look at him with a hardened gaze.

“Who are you?”

The straightforwardness of the question caught him off guard. He expected you to dance around the topic, maybe even toy with him a little bit, but it looked like you didn’t want to waste any time on the subject.

He didn’t either, not anymore. He longed for the comfort of your presence and the warmth of his magic; everything that was part of him had been ripped away and while it had been entertaining at the beginning, his impatience was running very thin.

Diavolo sat straight, vulnerable and at a disadvantage, but still the future Demon King.

“I am Lord Diavolo, Prince of the Devildom” he said with a secure tone. Your expression changed almost imperceptibly, turning to stupefaction before going back to emotionless. “I’ve been transported to this world on accident and I’ve lost my powers. I mean no harm”

“Incapability to make harm and unwillingness to do so are not equal”

“I don’t want any trouble”

“Why would I believe you?”

“It’s in your best interest”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning”

He stared at you without blinking, trying to get his point across without showing any aggressiveness; hopefully, his human-like appearance would help his case.

“You are quite bold” you said with poorly contained ire and indignation. Your lips formed a thin line and there was a deep frown on your face; it almost looked painful.

“I am telling the truth. I’m not sure, but I believe your Diavolo is in my world. If you help me return, he may come back to you”

“And if he doesn’t?”

What a great question.

Nothing certain was on the table, only mere speculation. If he was a human living with the brothers while you were the demon prince living in the castle, it was logical to assume the alternate Diavolo was living in a world where he was the prince and you were the human. Where else could he be otherwise?

“I don’t know” he finally said, swallowing hard. “But I’ll be out of your way”

You stayed in silence for a couple of seconds before getting up and pacing for a few minutes. The grass flattened under your feet and the birds resting on the branches flew away. Your frustration would be noticeable even to the most obtuse demon.

“You were transported; how?”

“There’s a room in the east wing of the castle, not far from the office, with a mirror inside. I was running away from Barbatos when I found it. The reflection it showed wasn’t mine and I got curious, then there was a light and it brought me here”

There was a moment of silence where you both stared at each other. Thankfully, your anger had mostly gone away, having been replaced by intrigue and disbelief. It could be his imagination, but Diavolo was pretty sure there was a tiny smirk on your lips.

“You were running away from Barbatos”

“I was”

“For what reason?”

He closed his eyes with slight embarrassment, knowing perfectly well that the lecturing would follow him no matter the universe.

“He was making me work”

“I beg your pardon?”

There it was, the chuckle of incredulity. You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head as if that would help you hear better. The moonlight was crowning you, leaving your face in the shadows and making Diavolo feel incredibly exposed, but he still answered.

“I’ve been working for days on end and I was tired, but I had more paperwork, so I asked for more tea and took the chance to run away when he left me alone”

“You, as the heir to the throne,” you added with scepticism, “didn’t want to do your job?”

“I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend”

“And who that may be?”

“You” he barked, finally gaining the feeling of having the upper ground.

Diavolo watched with satisfaction as you blinked in surprise, petrified on your spot. There was a shift in your eyes, something that softened the accusation in them, and then, slowly, you walked towards him and sat down again, this time closer but still not touching.

“We are dating in your world?” your voice had subdued as well, slightly leaning towards contentment.

“Yes” he nodded, allowing himself to smile a little. “For a few months now”

“Just like us, then”

His heart did a flip at the statement even when he was already aware of the fact, cheeks growing warm and making him grin like an idiot. You didn’t notice, as you were too occupied admiring the moon in amazement.

“What perfection” you said with a voice hoarse from emotion. “To find each other in more than one reality”

Diavolo forced himself to swallow and push down that painful spine in his throat. Meeting you had probably been one of the warmest moments of his life, being surpassed only by the day you shared your first kiss, and he kept both memories in his heart with extreme caution and care.

Knowing that those occasions had happened to other versions of him was just another memory waiting to be stored in his brain.

“Perfection, indeed” he answered with wet eyes and no amount of sadness in them. “One of my finest accomplishments”

You chuckled, what was probably the happiest he had seen you so far, before getting up one more time and offering him a hand to help him do the same.

“Come on, let’s get you home. We can search for the mirror and, if that doesn't work, luckily for us, I have a very talented demon who is an expert on portals to other realities”

Diavolo smiled at your teasing, sniffing and swallowing a couple of more times to fully erase the sudden raw emotion that you had both shared just then. Still, there was a bit of uncertainty left in his mind.

“What if your Diavolo doesn’t come back?”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard the question, but didn’t turn around. It seemed he had already seen too much of your emotions in just one night.

“I thought we made it clear” you muttered while continuing to walk the path. “We will always find each other”

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @sammywo

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Good Morning Hawkins I Have Dad!Eddie Munson Headcanons

Why are we as a society not talking about Stay At Home Dad Eddie?

I know we want our little domestic fantasies. But this man consistently says “fuck the system” every day. No forced conformity in this private domicile.

If you’ve got the drive to want to work after having the kid, he volunteers to stay home and take care of the baby.

Honestly, with his reputation it might be easier should you decide to stay in Hawkins because you’re the face of the relationship. It might actually be harder for him to find a job in town than it might be for you.

He also 100% cleans up his act, stops selling, and goes on the straight and narrow after having a kid. He doesn’t want baby reaching into cabinets and getting into things they shouldn’t get into.

He may still sell a little grass on the side, but he keeps it hidden in the van where little fingers can’t access it.

Eddie might not be the best housekeeper, but god dammit he tries. Like, he will genuinely try over and over to get things right even if it kills him. You don’t have to worry about weaponized incompetence with him.

He’ll start having favorite brands of cleaning products, favorite brands of formula and diapers, and he might get fussy if you bring the wrong ones home.

He’s a nerd. Plain and simple. He’ll be picking up Dustin in the van and taking little munchkin to the library to find any kind of book in relation to parenting, cooking, etc.

I can see Eddie actually becoming a very competent cook. He even makes the kid’s meals into fun little shapes for their lunchboxes.

Fun finger foods is his main staple when he’s not being Betty Crocker.

Literally does not care how he looks, he’ll push the most dolled up little stroller around Hawkins in broad daylight. He’ll wander out to Bradley’s in a polkadot apron and a pink baby sling. And when the kid is old enough to play salon with daddy, he’s gonna wander out in public with anything from pink scrunchies and glitter polish to a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack and magic marker on his face.

I can see Eddie being a little shit and purposely buying the most girly pink items for the baby when they’re little, no matter the gender.

He likes wearing pink in public. It pisses off the conservative parents who see him and the kid coming.

The only thing is you have to have a serious talk with him about is smoking around the kid, because Eddie’s one flaw may be that he’s got the propensity to be a cigarette mom. (It’s the late 80’s, and this was reality for a lot of older Millennials.)

So throw away his Camels and pay Dustin to tail him with a fire extinguisher.

Dustin is going to be Parent Number 3 in this relationship. I’m sorry but it’s reality.

Has absolutely no idea how to take care of a baby but is willing to learn.

Eddie would probably have to reschedule D&D nights with his buddies, because money would be hella tight now that the two of you have a little gremlin and one income. So you can’t exactly pay a sitter.

But he loves to make campaigns based on the stories he tells to the baby during bedtime.

RIP to y’all but once you have that baby, Uncle Wayne’s gonna refuse to let you and Eddie move out. He’s gonna change his work schedule too so he can spend time with the baby.

It would probably take a lot of overtime and a bit of Eddie’s extra side hustle, but the single wide is eventually going to get upgraded to a two bedroom double wide.

Uncle Wayne will insist on giving you, Eddie and the baby the master bedroom. Hell, he might even try to give the kid his bedroom.

Eddie is going to fucking refuse to let his uncle sleep in the living room of the new double wide.

Eddie might also become a little codependent on the kid. School will be a nightmare, because he’ll suddenly be alone in the trailer all day and chain smoke waiting for the kiddo to come home from school.

[darkfaceuwu]

Sunday x reader

Summary: You and Sunday are in relationship, starting to date 3 months ago, nobody knows about it and you and Sunday have hard time hiding it from public, mostly you. Sunday has his possessive moments but you rather ignore it, you love him so much even though of his behavior, you can love him even now after this ?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

We are in main hall in penacony theater, Sunday as head of oak family will give a speech to everyone. Something about harmony festival. Me as a mere retired soldier was invited by family (Sunday) as a spectator. Now as everyone wait for Sunday to make a presence, people pair with each other, talking,laughing and celebrating as always. Unknowingly to me a person comes, a young businessman and we start talking. It's quiet boring but I do occasionally laugh or smile what he tries to impress me by, it won't hurt to get at his good side. I can feel someone watching me and I do have an idea who but I don't react to it .

Until I hear a voice: " Apologies, dear guest... Y/n and I have something important to discuss, and it cannot wait any further." I look at Sunday strangely, not expecting for him to come here and make his existence visible for the poor businessman and to shaken him with fear a bit. Sunday as he interjected, his trademark smile gentle and reassuring on his face, his fingers slipped around my wrist. He tugged me away from the guest, the wings along his head agitatedly fluttering. I could recognize that faint, scathing look of jealousy in his eyes anywhere. It was the same song and dance, despite having me speak to the guests of the Family, Sunday despised it.

He led me away from the crowd, his grasp on my wrist firm yet gentle as he pulled me away to a more secluded area. I could hear him clicking his tongue, the grip on my wrist only getting tighter as he pulled me behind a pillar, out of sight from the prying eyes of the public around them. Sunday's smile faded into a frown, his golden eyes darkened with a hint of possessive fury as his gaze fixated on you.

"Sunday?" A meek call of his name can be heard. Sunday loomed over me, his height making me look so small beneath him as he leaned closer, his hand still firmly around my wrist. The wings along his head quivered with agitation as he pinned me against the pillar.

The pleasant smile he put on for the public was gone and replaced with a glare, his voice low and venomous. "What were you doing talking to that male..?" Angry Sunday is no joke... " I was conserving with him, that's all" my answer doesn't seem to please him.

Sunday's grip on my wrist tightened, the grip on me nearly bruising as he pulled me closer to him. His golden eyes darkened with a mix of jealousy and possessiveness.

The sweetness in his tone and smile vanished as he practically growled under his breath."Conversation, or blatant flirting?"

I laugh and nervously utter: " A conversation, of course."Sunday observed my expression, his eyes searching for even a hint of deception. He pressed closer to me, trapping me between the pillar and his body, leaving me pinned against him.

His voice darkened further, his grip on my wrist like a vice as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You're certain that it was just a 'conversation'? Nothing but idle chat?" He tries to get a guilty reaction from me, but he fails at it. I calmy answer him with hint of disbelief: "Yes an idle chat. You should know me by far."

Sunday's features softened, his grip on my wrist loosened slightly but he didn't let go, his golden eyes studying me intently. He let out a deep, calming sigh as a half-smile returned to his face."I do know you... I know you more than anyone ever will. However, I cannot help but be weary of others when you speak with them, especially males."

Sunday is indeed paranoid. I got to know this side of him when we weren't dating yet, and I decided to ignore this side of him .Maybe it would bite me back, but right now, I don't care. His other hand gently reached up and caressed my cheek, his touch almost eerily tender. He then pulls away from me ,his hand goes limp to his side, no further touching me.

" You know Sunday, talking with many people in Penacony is considered polite, I see it more as training for future greetings if I become your wife of course." I voice my thoughts in more playfull side, trying to reassure him.

Sunday's lips curled into a small smile. "How sweet darling, bit there's no need for you to "train" conversation with men. After all, I know how men behave. They're no good for you." He wasn't that awed of my comment, so I try to joke more. "Even you?" I ask, smirking a little bit at him.

Sunday chuckles at my comment."Now, let's don't compare me to those pitiful males.. I am far from them, my dove. They have no chance to measure up. No comparison is possible." He starts to petname me, now I've got him in a good mood.

Sunday titls my chin, making sure my attention is on him. His voice goes softer, his words practically a seductive murmur: "You're mine. You belong to me, nobody else."

I get giddy feeling, hearing him as bold as ever. Sunday's hands caressed my face, his thumb slowly brushing over my lips, tracing my features with a tender, almost obsessive touch."You are mine to protect. To touch. To hold."

He leans closer, his golden eyes fixated on me, his voice practically a soft whisper against my ear. "Only mine."

I can't help myself but reply: " Only yours."

Sunday's smile widened at my response, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. My words and the way i responded sent a wave of pleasure through him, his possessiveness rising within him.

He leans now even closer, his breath warm against my skin as his lips gently touch the shell of my ear. "That's right.. You belong to me and only me, my sweet angel."

He slowly moves his lips down towards my neck a spot where he could wings of halovian if i was one and placing a trail of soft kisses against my skin. I gasp, not expecting to do that. He was always a gentleman until recently we started just hugging and now feeling his real side of him makes me nervous but excited for more, but I stop myself and utter:"Oh my. You should be more careful. What if someone sees you being lovely dovely with me?"

Sunday paused for a moment, his lips still against my skin, before giving a soft chuckle. His fingers grazed along the side of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine."Let them see, darling. Let them see that you belong to me and nobody else."

He nipps gently on my neck before speaking again, his voice filled with possessiveness and desire."Nobody shall lay their eyes or hands on you...Unless I allow it." He darkly mumbles, already planning someone's doom.

"If you say so, but don't be suprised if you see headlines of newspapers. Sunday's Love Interest Revealed, read for more..." I sigh, thinking about consequences.

Sunday lets out a soft hum, a hint of a laugh in it. He pulled back slightly from my neck, his fingers softly tracing along my jawline as he meets myngaze, his golden eyes filled with a mixture of amusement."Oh, I don't care if our relationship becomes public knowledge. In fact, I welcome it."

His smile widened, a mixture of arrogance and tenderness in his expression."Let them know that I have claimed you, and that you, my darling, belong to no one but me."

He acts as if it's not scandalous enough, what we're doing right now and now he's just teasing me . I think little bit further and I do feel somehow little insecure." I mean I am a mere retired soldier, little bit scandalous if you ask me."

Sunday let out a soft chuckle my comment, a hint of amusement in his smile as he moves his hand to gently touch my cheek again."You're much more than that. And as for the 'scandal'.. Let them talk. I don't care." He states at me deeply.

I can't help but murmur:" Hahaha... funny joke."

..........................................................................................

Sunday's smile faded for a moment my words, his expression turning serious. He tilted his head slightly, studying my face for a moment before he spoke with an almost steely tone."I don't joke, my darling. I am completely serious when it comes to you."

His hand gently cupped my chin, his thumb gently stroking my lower lip as his hand moved down to my neck, his fingers gently wrapping around it. "You are mine. Entirely mine. And I intend to keep it that way, no matter what it takes."

I get little startled by his motion of grabbing my neck, but I relax, trying not to anger him again. "I don't doubt you, but still I wouldn't like to be published here of all places."

Sunday chuckles softly at my words, his grip on my neck loosening even more and his smile returning."You don't need to worry about that, my darling. I have no intentions of exposing our relationship to the public just yet. It's still too early for that."

His hand brushes against my skin, his touch gentle yet possessive as he spoke. "For now, you are mine and mine alone. Nobody else needs to know about it."

I feel relieved by his statement of our relationship.

" I don't want you being distracted by the gossiping of others, my darling." His voice grew deeper, more possessive as he spoke."You need to focus on only one thing, and that's me."

By his comments, I grow bold and humors him a bit."Mm I am looking at you alright." I stare at his lips, provoking him.

Sunday's smile widened at my gaze, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he saw where my eyes were fixated on, his own eyes darkening as he noticed the way i looked at him."Are you now? I can see that your eyes are quite fixated on a certain part of me."

I try to sound innocent: " Do I stare and where exactly, would you mind showing me?"

Sunday chuckles and shakes his head. "I would show you where exactly but I wouldn't want to make a scene here, would I..?"

Little bit disappointed I say:"So no scene here?"

Sunday gave a soft chuckle, his hand tracing along my skin as he spoke. His voice was a low, seductive murmur against my ear."No, not here, my darling. As much as I am tempted, I don't wish to cause a scene in public. However.."

He leans closer, his body nearly pressed against mine, his breath warm against my skin."Later, when we are alone, there will be no restraint, I can assure you that.."

Alone time sounds nice, but it's late and I would like to go home to rest, I still have a need to provocate him : "What makes you think I will spend alone time with you today . In your house maybe or where exactly?"

Sunday chuckles slightly at mine question, his hand gently caressing mine hair, as if he just thought of the most obvious thing."Oh, my darling, I never said it had to be my house. But where else would you suppose we go, hmm? A hotel?"His voice was laced with amusement and not innocent thoughts exactly as he spoke, his golden eyes never leaving mine.

"So a regular hotel?" I ask, scoffing of the thought of Sunday entering hotel without being recognized.

Sunday's smile widened, his hand gently tracing down mine jawline, his touch light yet possessive. "A regular hotel, my darling. Yes. It's not the most romantic of places, but it's secluded and private. And that's exactly what we need, right now."

Weird shouldn't he be concerned about his public image? "But won't they recognize you?" I ask bewildered.

Sunday chuckled softly, his hand moving to gently touch my chin as he spoke, his voice filled with arrogance and a hint of playfulness. "My darling, do you really think I haven't stayed in a regular hotel before? I know how to keep a low profile. And besides, I doubt the staff would care about who I am. They're probably more interested in the money I pay for the room."

I doubt that. " So you're a regular there? Maybe in the past you were there with numerous girls there no ? Is that how should I put it?" I tease him but it's an ugly thought I had for awhile.

Sunday's smile darkened at my insinuation, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes before he quickly regained his composure. He gripps my chin slightly tighter, his gaze intense as he looked at me."And what exactly are you implying, my darling? That I bring other girls to hotels? Because let me make one thing clear.."

His voice is dropping to a low, possessive growl."You are the only one I'll ever bring to a hotel or anywhere else for that matter. You're the only one I want. Nobody else."

I can't help myself and question him. "Are you sure?"

Sunday's gaze locked with mine, his eyes intense and filled with a mixture of desire and a hint of anger at the insinuation i was making."I am absolutely sure. I have no interest in anyone else. Only you, my sweet dove. Nobody else comes even close to the way I feel about you. You are the one I want, the one I desire, the one I need."

His hand moved to gently touch my cheek, cupping it softly as he spoke, his voice soft and intense. "And I will make sure that you never doubt that again."

When I hear his declaration of love to me I feel so happy. "Really, you mean it?"

Sunday's eyes softened and he smiled slightly at mine question, his grip on mine cheeks gentling as he spoke."I swear it, my darling. You are the only one who matters to me. I value you above anyone else. Your attention, your love, your presence, it's all I need. Any other girl's attention is inconsequential to me. You are the only one I see. You are the only one I desire."

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low, possessive murmur."And I will never, ever let you go."

Now as I hear these words , I can't help myself, and I do something unexpected. I pull Sunday by his collar of his suit and kiss him on his lips feverishly.

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise at mine sudden actions, but he quickly recoveres and leans more into the kiss, his arms immediately wrapping around my waist, pulling me even closer against him. He returnes the kiss with just as much passion and intensity, his lips eagerly meeting mine as he deepenes the kiss. Sunday continues the kiss for a few more moments, his hands roaming along my body as his tongue slipped past my lips, exploring my mouth with a mixture of possessiveness and desire. The soft gasp I let out only fueled the fire of his passion, and he presses me even closer against him, his body molding against mine as he kisses me with unrelenting fervour.

Sunday seems to realize that this is mine first kiss, and he gently pulls away from the kiss for a moment, his eyes locking with mine as he spoke, his voice a soft, ragged murmur. "Is this... your first kiss, my darling..?"

I was busted. "Ah~ Was I obvious perhaps?"

Sunday chuckles softly, his gaze filled with a mixture of lust and a hint of amusement at mine admission, his arms still holding me against him."Yes, my darling, it was obvious. But don't worry, there's no need to be embarrassed. In fact, I find it rather ...endearing."

He leans in, his lips hovering just millimeters away from mine, his voice a low, seductive murmur."I'm honored to be your first kiss"

..........................................................................................

Out of embarrassment, I hid my face with my hands.

Sunday chuckled softly at mine, an attempt to hide my face, his hands gently prying mine hands away from my face. He gently lifted mine chin, making me look directly at him, his eyes soft yet filled with desire as he spoke."There's no need to hide, my darling. I want to see your face."

He leans closer, his breath warm against mine skin as he spoke, his voice a soft, possessive voice."Especially when you're flustered like this. It's quite adorable."

I don't know how to react to this at all , so I stare at him wideyed and sheepishly smile at him.

Sunday chuckled softly, his hand still gently holding my chin, his eyes scanning your face as I blushed furiously. He found mine behavior incredibly endearing, and a possessive fire blazed through his veins."Oh, my darling.. You're blushing even more now.. I didn't think it was possible, but you're somehow even more adorable when you're embarrassed. Your face is all red.. and your eyes are wide.. You're so damn cute."

I try to retort some defensive response,failing to deliver, and I sound more whiny. "What do you expect ? I 've kissed you in the heat of a moment for the first time and in this place for the matter..." Closing my eyes, trying to erase my embarrassing moment.

Sunday held back another chuckle at my flustered response, a sense of possessiveness and excitement flaring through him as I admitted to unexpectedness of my actions. He knew that I was nervous and inexperienced, and for some reason, this realization only made him want me more. "I know, my darling. And trust me, I'm not complaining. I just find it amusing how flustered you're getting over a simple kiss. But I can't say I mind it. The blush on your face, the way your body trembles in my arms... It's driving me crazy."

This is too much for me. So I changed a subject to look at the clock kind of theme, so I could breathe for a moment. "Ah, look at the clock it's time to head back."

Sunday's grip on me tightened slightly as I mentioned the time, a possessive streak flashing in his eyes. "Already? Just when I was enjoying having you all to myself.. But I suppose you're right. We should probably get going."

He released his grip on my body, letting me go, his touch still lingering on me as he stares at me longingly, his gaze changes to his relaxed one. Sunday sighed softly, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes at the reminder that he had responsibilities to attend to. " The others are waiting for me, aren't they.. I suppose I can't keep them waiting much longer.. But I do wish I could have you to myself a little longer... Shall we head back?"

I nod in agreement, Sunday has to give people a speech and I did take his precious time even though I don't feel any remorse for that.

..........................................................................................

As we start walking back, I stumble little bit and Sunday catches me. He decides to hold my hand and lead me. He won't give me a chance to protest, keeping a firm yet gentle grip on me as he leads me back towards the others, his expression carefully schooled into his usual, charismatic mask.

As we come closer a young female servant sees us and she as curious as she is asks us: " Mr. Sunday you were late by 5 minutes, we prolonged the time limit of your arrival. We're all glad you came back but we're curious. Why are you back with this lady... holding hands?"

The servant isn't very happy to see us together or maybe its because he was really late, either way Sunday doesn't take her words kindly." It's none of your concern. I can hold hands with whoever I please."His tone is cold and dismissive as he responds, the dangerous glint in his gaze obvious to anyone who dared to look.

I didn't expect him to lash out at her , so I try make an excuse to not worsen the situation . "Haha I got lost and Mr. Sunday helped so now he's just making sure I'm fine. He said he insists to let me go when I will be reunited with my colleagues from work."

Sunday couldn't help but smirk internally at my quick response, proud of how quickly I came up with a lie to explain why he was holding my hand. He glanced over at the servant, keeping his expression cold and dismissive as he spoke."Ah, yes. She got lost and I'm just making sure she doesn't wander off again. I assure you, it's nothing to worry about." His grip on my hand tightened slightly as he spoke, his obsessive nature only more apparent than before.

The servant seemed to buy my story, her gaze flickering between my interlocked hands and Sunday's unruffled expression. She didn't seem to doubt the validity of my response, and a hint of curiosity flashed in her eyes before she nodded and walked away.

"That was good thinking, dove. I mean it's true, you can be easily lost here." He chuckles at his own comment as I deadpan at him. We stay where we are, still holding hands.

I squeeze his hand to calm myself, the servant was very curious one and rumor will be tomorrow about us for sure but thankfully we kept our secret from them. I'm not quiet ready to reveal it to the public and my thoughts go on, how we could make it happen.

Sunday as he feels me squeeze his hand, he tightenes his grip on my hand, watching me, he seems to realize that I calmed myself, his small smirk with wicked eyes staring at me as I am unknowing of the truth .

Because tomorrow I will find myself in his scheme in a newspaper headline as his lover to public to admire as he planned to, even though his plan had unexpected turn what would be as headline picture of what he is joyfull about ,to present to any male to see, to everyone to see. You belong to him after all and this is his pride and joy to announce and warn everyone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The End~

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Hi,

I just love your Anthony Bridgerton x male reader story. Can you write another? I don't mind what it is about but maybe Anthony has a secret male lover who is of lower class than him, like someone who is a working or middle class person.

No One does it like Ant Part I (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Part I

Author's note: Hiya so I decided to make this into a series typa thing so I really hope this is to your liking. I'm so relived to hear that you loved the other one-shot or story. Thank you so much for requesting. I am intrigued to where this one leads.

Summary: Despite the weight of his title and obligations, Anthony Bridgerton finds solace in the secret moments shared with someone who should be invisible to a man of his status: you, a blacksmith's son. The stark differences in your worlds don't matter in the shadows, but in the daylight, the walls between you seem impossible to scale.

Warning(s): Tension/Anxiety, Emotional Turmoil, Risk of Discovery, ANGST, Class difference, Secret Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Mild Sexual Content, Fear of Loss, Period-Appropriate Homophobia

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The flickering candlelight danced across Anthony's face, casting shadows on the familiar furrow of his brow. He stood by the window of the secluded cottage, his posture stiff, as though the very air around him weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"It's not enough," he whispered to himself, but you heard him, leaning quietly against the doorway.

"What isn't enough?" you asked, your voice cutting through the silence like a warm breeze in winter.

Anthony turned abruptly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, the tension in the air thickening as he hesitated. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his boots echoing against the wooden floor. His fingers twitched, almost as though he was reaching out for you, but stopped himself, retreating back into his restrained composure.

"You and I...this life we lead, these stolen moments," he said, his voice low and laden with the turmoil that seemed to forever grip him. "It cannot be enough, for either of us."

Your heart clenched, but you stayed where you were. You knew this conversation would come, but you had not been prepared for the pain that surged within you.

"Why isn't it enough, Anthony? In here, away from your title, from society's watchful eyes, we are enough."

His expression softened, and for a moment, he allowed himself to drop the mask, the Viscount disappearing behind the man you loved. His lips parted as if to speak, but instead, he closed the distance between you, reaching up to cup your face in his hands.

"You deserve more than this, more than hiding in the shadows with a man like me," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "But I cannot walk away."

His confession hung in the air, raw and real. You raised your hands to cover his, savoring the warmth of his touch.

"I never asked for more," you whispered back. "I only ask for you."

The truth of your words startled him. Anthony pulled back slightly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before dropping to his sides. He took a step back, his gaze distant, as if he were already being drawn back into the world outside—the one that demanded perfection, duty, and sacrifice.

"The world doesn't care what we want, Anthony," you said softly, "but in here, when it's just you and me, it can't touch us."

Anthony's expression tightened, torn between desire and responsibility. The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes was replaced by the rigid control he so often wore like armor. You could see the battle raging inside him, the weight of his title pressing on his shoulders, even as his heart urged him toward you.

“I have obligations,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking the words made them more real, more suffocating. “A name to uphold. Expectations from my family, from society. This... this between us... it defies everything I’ve been taught.”

You frowned, stepping closer, the heat of the hearth warming your back. “And what about what you want, Anthony? You’ve spent your whole life living for others. Don’t you deserve something for yourself?”

Anthony’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, staring out the window into the night, as though the darkness held the answers he couldn’t find in the daylight. His silence was answer enough. You sighed softly, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking as you reached out to brush your fingers against his.

“Anthony,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm, “I know what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid of losing everything. But what is the point of all that wealth, that power, if you’re alone? If you deny yourself happiness?”

His head lowered, eyes shutting briefly as he absorbed your words. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of your touch, his hand grasping yours, fingers interlocking in a way that felt both familiar and fragile.

"I want you," he said softly, his voice breaking the stillness. "God help me, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything."

His admission sent a rush through you, but it was bittersweet. The walls he had built around his heart were still there, still towering. You could feel the strain in his grip, the way his fingers tightened as though holding on to you could anchor him, even as he felt himself slipping.

You gently pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the small space between you. “Then be with me. Here. Now. Forget the rest of the world, just for tonight.”

His eyes opened, and for a heartbeat, the mask dropped completely. Anthony’s hand slid up the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your skin as his lips captured yours in a kiss—deep, searching, filled with everything he could never say aloud. The world outside the small cottage faded away, leaving just the two of you in the warm glow of the firelight.

For now, it was enough.

But the unspoken fear lingered, a shadow neither of you could ignore. What would happen when the sun rose and the world outside came calling once again?

Later, as you both lay side by side in the quiet aftermath, the weight of Anthony’s unspoken words filled the room. He traced absent patterns along your arm, his touch gentle, but there was a tension there, something unsaid hanging in the air.

“You know this can’t last forever,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

Your heart clenched, but you had known that truth from the beginning. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Why not? Why can’t we find a way?”

Anthony turned toward you, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and longing. “Because men like me... we don’t get to choose. I’m the Viscount, the head of my family. The expectations... they’re not just mine to carry. They belong to my siblings, to my lineage. I can’t risk everything for something that the world won’t allow.”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him, searching his face for something—some flicker of hope that this didn’t have to end. But all you found was the same conflict, the same war raging inside him that had been there since the day you met.

“I don’t care about your title, Anthony,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “I care about you. And if you can’t let yourself have this, if you can’t let yourself have me, then what’s the point of any of it?”

Anthony’s gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw the man beneath the title, the one who longed for the freedom to choose his own happiness. But then the walls went up again, and he was once more the Viscount Bridgerton, burdened by duty.

“I wish it were that simple,” he murmured, his hand resting on your cheek. “But you and I... we’re from two different worlds. And I can’t pretend that the world will ever accept that.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his palm. “Then let’s not care what the world thinks. Just for a little longer.”

The night was growing late, and though Anthony knew he should leave before the morning light betrayed him, he remained there beside you, holding on to what little time you had left together. As you drifted off to sleep, you could feel him watching you, his fingers tracing the contours of your face as though committing every detail to memory.

Tomorrow would come, and with it, the harsh realities of your different lives. But for now, you had each other. And for tonight, that was enough.

Morning came too soon. The pale light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft, muted hues. You stirred first, the warmth of Anthony’s body still close beside you, his arm draped protectively across your chest. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to bask in the serenity of it, in the peace that only came in these rare moments together.

But reality was already creeping in. You could feel it in the cool air of the room, in the weight of the silence that now stretched between you. Anthony stirred beside you, and as he slowly woke, you felt his grip tighten briefly, as though holding on to the last shreds of the night’s illusion.

His eyes fluttered open, and the moment his gaze met yours, you saw it. The mask slipping back into place. The Viscount, the man of duty, was already returning.

“I should go,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep, but his tone carried a certain finality, like a man waking from a dream he knew he couldn’t linger in.

You sighed, sitting up and gently pushing the tangled sheets aside. The cold floorboards beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed you’d shared, and it sent a shiver through you—not just from the cold, but from the realization that this, too, was slipping away.

“You always say that,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart ached with the truth. “But you always come back.”

Anthony sat up beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your heart tighten. “I come back because I can’t stay away,” he admitted quietly, his voice filled with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “But I can’t give you more than this.”

You turned to face him, searching his eyes for something—anything—that could give you hope. “Why can’t you, Anthony? What are you so afraid of?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not just a man,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the Viscount. My family’s future rests on my shoulders. Marrying, having an heir... it’s not just expected of me, it’s required. And being with you...”

His voice trailed off, but you understood. Being with you was not part of that plan. It never could be.

“I know what’s expected of you,” you said quietly, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. “But I also know that you deserve to be happy, Anthony. And if that happiness is here, with me, then maybe it’s worth fighting for.”

Anthony’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the flicker of hope, the part of him that longed to break free of the chains that bound him. But then, just as quickly, the hope was gone, replaced by the weight of responsibility that always pulled him back.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that,” he admitted, his voice cracking with the strain of his inner conflict.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, holding it firmly. “You’re stronger than you think,” you whispered, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “But you have to decide if this—if we—are worth the risk.”

Anthony’s grip tightened around yours, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words, with all the things that could never be.

“I wish I could give you more,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “But I can’t change who I am.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I know.”

And you did know. You had known from the beginning that loving Anthony Bridgerton would mean heartache. But even knowing that, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. You loved him, and even if the world would never allow it, you would carry that love with you always.

Anthony stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he began to dress. You watched him silently, the reality of the situation settling heavily on your chest. The moment was ending, and soon he would leave, just as he always did.

As he pulled on his coat and adjusted the lapels, he turned to you one last time. His gaze lingered on your face, and for a brief moment, the mask slipped once more.

“If I could... if things were different...”

You smiled sadly, shaking your head. “But they’re not.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to summon the strength to walk away. When he opened them again, the Viscount had returned, composed and resolute. He crossed the room in long, measured strides, and when he reached the door, he paused.

“I will see you again,” he said, his voice soft but certain.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. You both knew the truth—that no matter how many times he walked away, he would always come back. But what neither of you could say aloud was that each time he did, the space between you would grow, the distance between your worlds widening until one day, it would be too vast to cross.

The door closed softly behind him, and with it, the chapter of this fleeting moment in your secret world came to an end.

You sat there in the stillness, your heart heavy but resolute. You loved him, and for now, that would have to be enough. But in the quiet of the empty room, a question lingered: how much longer could you both live in the shadows?

Days passed with a crushing sameness. The quiet routine of your life returned, each day filled with work and the small distractions that kept your mind busy. But no matter how hard you tried to immerse yourself in the rhythm of everyday tasks, thoughts of Anthony clung to you like a persistent shadow.

At night, when the world was silent and the loneliness pressed in, you would remember his touch, the way his voice softened when he was just Anthony—not the Viscount, but the man who had stolen your heart. The memories were bittersweet, tugging at you even as you tried to push them away.

Weeks later, as you stood at the forge, the clanging of iron on metal ringing in the air, you caught sight of a figure approaching the workshop. Your heart skipped a beat, the familiar broad shoulders and composed gait unmistakable. You set down your tools, wiping the sweat from your brow as Anthony stepped inside, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind him.

He was dressed impeccably, as always, though there was something different about him today. A tension, a sense of urgency in his movements, as though he had come to a decision.

“Anthony,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the sudden quickening of your pulse. It was the first time you’d seen him since that morning he’d left your bed, and the air between you crackled with unspoken words.

He stood before you, eyes searching your face as though he hadn’t expected you to be exactly as he remembered. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your last meeting hung heavily in the air, both of you knowing this wasn’t just another visit.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said at last, his voice raw with emotion. “Every time I try to distance myself, it’s like I’m suffocating. I thought I could bury it, push it aside. But I can’t. I don’t know how.”

You stepped closer, your chest tightening as you watched the mask of the Viscount crack once more. This time, it wasn’t just a fleeting moment of vulnerability. It was something deeper, something more desperate.

“Then stop trying,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the roar of your heart. “Stop fighting it.”

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands reaching out to grip your arms, his touch firm, almost frantic. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice shaking slightly. “I don’t know how to balance what I feel for you and the life I’m supposed to lead. But I know that I can’t keep walking away.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him, the intensity in his gaze overwhelming. You could feel the battle raging within him, the clash between duty and desire that had haunted him for so long.

“What do you want, Anthony?” you asked quietly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Not what society wants, not what your family expects—what do you want?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. But then, as though the weight of it was too much to bear, he finally let go of the control he’d been clinging to for so long.

“I want you,” he said, his voice breaking with the force of the confession. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss desperate, filled with all the pent-up longing and frustration that had built between you. It was raw and messy, a collision of emotions that neither of you had been able to fully express before. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. There was no Viscount, no obligations, no world beyond the walls of the workshop. There was only Anthony, his lips on yours, his hands gripping you as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath. Anthony’s hands slid down to your waist, his touch softer now, more controlled but still filled with that same intensity.

“This won’t be easy,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I can’t promise that things will change overnight. But I’m tired of running from this. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

You exhaled slowly, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and fear. You had waited so long to hear those words, but you knew the road ahead would be anything but simple.

“I’m not asking for everything right now,” you said softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I just want you to try. To fight for us, the way you’ve fought for everyone else your whole life.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the hint of a smile on his lips—a small, tentative thing, but enough to give you hope.

“I will,” he promised, his voice filled with quiet determination. “For you, I will.”

The days that followed were stolen moments, brief but filled with a new sense of possibility. Anthony was still the Viscount, and his duties pulled him away more often than not, but when he returned to you, there was a shift in him—a willingness to fight for what he wanted, for the life he had always denied himself.

There were no grand declarations, no sudden changes in his public persona, but in the quiet of your shared moments, there was a newfound resolve. You could see it in the way he held you, in the way his gaze lingered on you longer than it used to. He was still navigating the treacherous path between his duty and his desires, but for the first time, he wasn’t walking that path alone.

One evening, as the sun set over the horizon and the two of you sat together by the fire, Anthony turned to you, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “Maybe there is a way. A way for us to have more than this.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

He smiled faintly, reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “There’s a lot I can’t change about who I am or the life I lead. But I can change this—us. I can be with you, more than just in secret. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m willing to find out.”

For the first time, there was a glimmer of hope in his words, a sense that maybe, just maybe, the world you both wanted wasn’t so far out of reach after all.

The days blended into weeks, and in those weeks, you and Anthony managed to carve out a fragile existence, balancing his life as the Viscount and the moments of tenderness he could afford with you. Every meeting was a risk, every touch a gamble, but neither of you could pull away. Not anymore.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the village as you waited for him in the small cottage just outside of town—a place that had become your sanctuary, a hidden world where, for a few hours, you could forget the harshness of reality.

You paced, the nervous energy in your body building as the minutes ticked by. Anthony was late, which wasn’t unusual given his responsibilities, but tonight felt different. There was a tension in the air, a heaviness that you couldn’t shake. You wondered if today would be the day he wouldn’t show up. If something had finally happened to tear him away from you for good.

But then, the door creaked open, and there he was—disheveled and out of breath, as though he’d run all the way from Bridgerton House. Relief flooded your chest, but it was short-lived as you noticed the look in his eyes: a mixture of exhaustion, fear, and something else... determination.

“Anthony,” you breathed, crossing the room to him, your hands reaching for his. “You’re late. I was worried.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his face burying in the crook of your neck as if trying to ground himself in your presence. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “There’s... there’s something we need to talk about.”

You froze, your heart pounding. His words were too serious, too final. Panic flared in your chest. “What is it?” you asked, stepping back just enough to look into his eyes. “What’s happened?”

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked tired, older even, as though the weight of his responsibilities had finally caught up to him. “My family... they’re pushing harder for me to marry.”

Your stomach dropped, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“Do they... do they know about us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your worst fear suddenly feeling very real.

“No,” Anthony said quickly, shaking his head. “No, they don’t. But they’ve been watching me closely, and I can’t keep making excuses for disappearing like this.” His hands gripped yours tightly, as though he was afraid you might slip away. “But I’m not going to give up on us.”

The determination in his voice caught you off guard. You had expected him to tell you that it was over, that he had no choice but to marry someone his family deemed suitable. But here he was, standing in front of you, fighting for you.

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice trembling with both hope and fear.

“I’m saying that I’m willing to take the risk,” Anthony said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “I’m tired of living my life for everyone else. I want to be with you. I don’t care what it costs me.”

Your heart soared, but at the same time, the practical part of your mind screamed in protest. “Anthony, you can’t just throw everything away. Your family... your title...”

“I know,” he interrupted, his hands cupping your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I know what I’m risking. But I’ve made my decision.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. You had never imagined he would choose you over everything he stood to lose. But now that he had, the reality of it terrified you. “What if it all falls apart? What if—”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly, pulling you into a kiss that silenced your fears, at least for the moment.

The following weeks were a blur of secret meetings, stolen moments, and whispered promises. Anthony became more reckless, more willing to risk everything for the sake of being with you. It frightened you, but it also exhilarated you—this man, who had been so bound by duty and expectation, was finally choosing to live for himself.

But the world had a way of catching up with those who defied it.

It happened one evening, just as the sun was setting. You and Anthony were sitting together by the fire, the cottage bathed in the warm, golden light of dusk. He had come straight from an event, his hair still neatly styled, his clothes still carrying the scent of expensive cologne. He looked every bit the Viscount, except for the way he relaxed into your side, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

A knock at the door shattered the peaceful silence.

Both of you froze. No one ever came here. This place was yours, a secret known only to the two of you. Anthony’s hand tightened on your leg, his eyes locking with yours, fear flashing in them.

You stood, your heart racing as you moved toward the door, unsure of what—or who—was waiting on the other side.

[imaybe5tupid]

if you see absolutely anything that has kabru in it. And are unable to stop yourself from making it about L/abru (even when Laios doesn’t even appear or is irrelevant to the content in question!) and reduce kabrus entire deuteragonist-level character into wanting to fuck laios. I’m stealing something out of your house!!!!!

disclaimer: If you ship l/abru and gaf about kabru and don’t do this then this post isn’t about you 🤓

[ruvviks]

// wip day.

tagged by; @adelaidedrubman, @katsigian and @hibernationsuit, thank you so much!! tagging; @reaperkiller, @envergothash, @dickytwister, @shellibisshe, @secondsundering, @devilbrakers, @dekariosgale, @velocitic, @necro-hamster and YOU!

thought i'd do something different for this today :^) i'm working on a powerpoint (inspired by ezra velocitic thank u for the idea ^-^) to hopefully one day be able to explain the cyberpunk extended blorboverse that red reaperkiller and i have been working on for over a year now! it also includes my own story with vincent and his friends since the two stories eventually come together sometime in 2083 and 2084 (yeah i know the game is called 2077 i don't care leve me aloe). here's some slides to give you an idea of what kind of lore to expect :^)

[chirpsythismorning]

📝 💐 🛼 💔⏪️💭🧊🌄❤️‍🩹

I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor

previous ⏪︎ now playing ⏩ next back to playlist

[bumblingbabooshka]

Watching ‘The Cloud’ VOY and Harry Kim is so right about everything

[kdramacrybaby]

I haven’t really ranted about Alchemy of Souls yet, and though I don’t have that much to say, I do have some thoughts I might as well air out ⬇️

[kawaiianimeredhead]

I spent the last couple days rewatching SOTUS since the first time I watched it years ago

And honestly, I may like it more now than I did and I liked it a lot back then. I kno people have issues with it and I get those and understand them

But damn I love this show a lot. I can't wait to start watching SOTUS S, I remember enjoying that as much if not more so I think it'll be a fun rewatch

[go-against-fate]

Jaeho from The Strongest Florist is so silly i want to put him and Lloyd in the same room and watch them interact

[eversncenewyork]

& more!

[kingdomkome]

at what point is it just better to say fuck it and restart a project

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐎) !! ❞

❝ A LOVE TRIANGLE GONE RIGHT ?! REPORTING FROM THE SET OF THE HIT SHOW JUJUTSU KAISEN ! ❞

✧ pairing: actors!satoru gojo and suguru geto x actor!reader

✧ summary: rumors swirl about a love triangle between you and your two heart throb co-stars on the set of jujutsu kaisen. except in this case, you and your two co-stars are happily dating. but what happens when you get casted in a movie where they want you to have a PR relationship with your co-star? especially when your boyfriends find out who it is—

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut, no curses, modern au, jjk is a tv show, actor au, yes the actors and characters have the same names lol, reader is dating both of them, funny interview hijinxs, this is kind a lot of crack, jealous! gojo + geto, sukuna is here lmao, innuendos, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi-exhibitionism, face sitting (f! receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex (p in v), double penetration, creampie, multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / _3aem

✧ wc: 17,900

“Reporters say the love triangle between the actors Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto and their co-star has become even more shrouded in mystery than the show itself!” an influencer reports on your social media of gchoice that morning, nearly vibrating from assumedly her three espressos, “the stars of Jujutsu Kaisen, the fantasy horror drama series written by Gege Akutami have been embroiled in dating scandals over the last few weeks—“ your phone’s notifications cut the audio from the video for a moment until you switch it to silent, “after being spotted leaving Suguru Geto’s loft just two nights ago, she was then seen having a lunch rendezvous with Satoru Gojo—“ 

You lock your phone, rubbing your temples, as the device nearly had an aneurysm from your social media notifications — buzzing itself off your dining room table and into an early death. Your agent was going to have a field day with this, and the main event is going to be your murder. 

“What are they saying about us now?” Suguru sighs, as he emerges out of the shower in only a towel wrapped around his waist, steam rolling out of the bathroom, as you offer him a coffee, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a sip, “my agent is demanding I call him— and I’d like to know what we’ve done now before he kills me,” he says, though he continues to sip his coffee nonchalantly, unbefuddled by the thought of his death. 

“Oi oi, calm down, shouldn’t you be more upset at the reporters than me?” Satoru comes from the bedroom, “Nanamin, just take care of it. Tell them we’re just friends if they ask you — do me a favor and pay off the reporter who got a picture of us kissing—“ and you nearly snort at the thought of Nanami Kento doing any sort of favor for Satoru. 

“You let him kiss you?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips, as your cheeks burn, rolling your eyes. 

“Not so much ‘let’ as he just kissed me without a second thought,” you shake your head, drinking your coffee as Satoru continues to bicker with Nanami, “I told him I thought I saw paparazzi but—“ 

“Satoru is do first, ask questions never,” Suguru sighs, but still the smirk remains, as he leans closer to you, his large palm against the back of your chair, “you never let me kiss you in public,” 

And you’re resisting the urge to bite your lip, “You know better — look at what Satoru’s done now—“ 

“And was it worth it, Princess?” Your mind wanders to the kiss — Satoru’s hand against the nape of your neck, his lips sliding against yours, the faint taste of the strawberry cake he had for dessert lingering on his tongue and now yours, and the sticky heat that settled over your body from the too humid night air and his warmth leeching onto your skin, and the eyes watching his need for you made it all the more—

“Maybe,” you mumble, choosing to sip at your drink as Satoru cut off your conversation with his own. 

“Just deal with it, Nanami, that’s why I hired you after all, huh?” He earns a swear from Nanami for the claim that he ‘hired’ him in any way whatsoever, and then his lips curl. “No they aren’t here with me—“ the bespectacled man shouts from the other line, “eh? What do you mean I look and sound like a man who only lies?” And then he’s hanging up, running a hand through his hair, a pout on his lips, “I was supposed to wake up to the two of you, not Nanami’s tirade,” he groans, as he makes his way over to you, only to wrap his arms around you from behind. 

“Well, it is your fault, Satoru,” Suguru smirks over the rim of his cup, “someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves—“ 

“Jealous, Suguru?” he replies, as he presses a kiss to your neck, “jealous that our princess is much more affectionate with me,” 

Suguru cuts you off, “more like she babies you,” and Satoru’s face sours into a scowl, “if she had stayed at my apartment for the week, this wouldn’t have—“ 

“And then they would have seen me coming to your place, and what good would that do?” 

“Guys—“ you try to speak, but you’re cut off again. 

Suguru tilts his head with a small grin, “Are you lonely? Why don’t you find someon—“ 

“Stop, guys,” you couldn’t take this bickering this early in the morning, though you had grown used to it, “we have bigger problems to deal with than your egos,” you sigh, rising from Satoru’s grip even as he pouts, “we have to be more careful,” 

“But how? We’ve already cut down our appearances together for behind the scenes and even stopped going out for dinner or dates,” Satoru pouts, running a hand through his hair, “next thing you’ll want to break up,” 

“That’s not gonna happen,” you flick Satoru on the forehead, “but we have to do something, otherwise our agents will have us murdered,” 

“And Nanami will join them for sport,” Suguru adds, and you snort, finally finishing your drink, before he walks over to you, fingers under your chin, “so what’s your idea, sweetheart?” 

“Just take a break for a few weeks until the public finds something else to fixate on,” you sigh, “while the episodes air, all we’re going to get is more attention,” 

“We could just take a trip,” Satoru offers, “I own a private island—“ 

“Of course you do,” Suguru says, and Satoru only chuckles. 

“Being envious doesn’t become you, Suguru,” the snow haired actor clicks his tongue at him, before he’s pulling you into his arms, “we could go for a few days, get away from all the noise,” 

“It’s a good idea, but you’re forgetting one thing, Satoru,” Suguru tilts his head, “won’t they notice if we all go on vacation at the same time?” 

“Plus we have interviews to do in the coming week,” you remind Satoru, and he’s sighing, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “but maybe we can go after?” 

“Unless you get that role,” Satoru mumbles against your skin, pressing sweet kisses to the nape of your neck, “have you heard anything yet?” 

You shake your head, a sigh stuck in your throat, “It’s a long shot. This is such a big role and it’s for the lead,” and Suguru is finding his way to you, warm fingers cupping your cheek. 

“They would be lucky to have you — do you know how many people say you were their favorite character? They were ready to fight me and Satoru for you,” he adds with a chuckle, lips ghosting over the swell of your cheek, “I think they would beat us with sheer numbers,” 

“Nah, I’d win,” Satoru says, and you snort, rolling your eyes, “but he’s right princess, how crazy would they have to be not to cast you?” 

“There’s so many other talented people up for the role—“ 

“There’s always going to be someone else,” Suguru cuts you off gently, as his fingers find yours, lacing with yours so perfectly you wondered if it’s what they were made for, “but that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable or incredible,” 

“And you’re already far more talented than you give yourself credit for,” Satoru adds, “but when do you get the role, inevitably,” Suguru smirks at him, “when would shooting begin?” 

“Probably just after our press wraps for season two,” you lean into their touch, “they still haven’t casted the two leads, but apparently both are down to the final audition,” and you’re pressing nosing Satoru’s cheek, before pressing a chaste kiss to Suguru’s nose, “and that’s why we’ll have to cool it for the next few weeks, ok?” 

But you don’t — or rather they don’t. 

“Who is Satoru Gojo’s…” Satoru rips off the tape off the cardboard printout of Googled questions, “favorite actor to work with?” 

“We all know the answer to that,” Suguru replies with a sigh, his eyes sliding to you, and you roll your own. 

“Look who’s talking — these two are obsessed with each other,” and Satoru has a shit eating grin, sitting back and watching the two of you argue, “the two of you are soulmates — and I’m not talking about your characters,”

“Don’t go there,” Suguru scoffs, and you tilt your head, lips curling, as your gaze meets his. 

“Are you begging?” and you can’t help the way your tone bites back, falling far over the line of playful teasing and into blatant flirting, and you can only hope the camera plays off the dark glint in Suguru’s gaze as he smirks as teasing rather than what you know it is — lustful. 

“You’re both wrong anyway,” Satoru cuts in, “obviously my favorite actor to work with is Megumi!” 

And you and Suguru both snort, words falling from your lips in unison, “Poor Megumi,” 

“Ehhh? What do you mean by that?” And Satoru smacks you both playfully with the piece of cardboard an intern probably painfully put together before tossing it away. 

“What happened to Suguru Geto….” in Jujutsu Kaisen?” Suguru reads. 

“Dead,” you and Satoru answer in unison, and Suguru raises an eyebrow. 

“You both are a walking spoiler,” and you gape at Suguru. 

“They asked, and he’s the spoiler warning — he read ahead and told me that his character—“ and Suguru covers your mouth, looking the camera dead in the eye. 

“You’re welcome—ow!” And he pulls his hand away, “did you just bite me?” 

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Satoru says, earning a whack to the face with the cardboard printout from Suguru, “when you tried to steal her snacks—“ 

And you weren’t really helping either. 

“Do you think of yourself as a heartthrob?*” You ask Satoru, hooked up to a lie detector, the polygraph examiner studying the results closely, as Suguru didn’t bother biting back his smile. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m not—“ 

“It’s a yes or no question, Satoru,” you cut him off as he sighs dramatically, running a hand through his snowy locks. 

“Then I’ll have to say yes,” and he’s winking at the camera, and you’re snorting, looking at the lie detector reader. 

“It’s the truth,” he says simply and the examiner nods, and you scoff, as Satoru only pouts at you. 

“Have you ever,” Suguru lets a chuckle escape his lips, “look at fan accounts for yourself? I can answer this one, yes he does, I’ve watched him do it—“ 

Satoru scoffs, doubling down, “can you blame me? My fans do such wonderful edits—“ 

“And inflate your ego to a catastrophic size—“ and Satoru is reaching across the table to cover your mouth. 

“Be careful she bites,” Suguru warns, leaning back in his chair, as you grin against Satoru’s hand, and he shrugs, lips curling. 

“Don’t worry, I like it,” 

The examiner nods, “that’s the truth.” 

“We’ll start out tame,” you say, as you look at the list of thirst tweets in front of you and choosing one of the more…hinged ones, “Suguru Geto, I would let you kill me like the monkey I am, and I’d thank you for it,” and you show the tweet, “monkey emoji covering their face,” 

“That’s a tame one?” Suguru covers half his face with his hand, much like the emoji, “what the **** are the wild ones?” And you open your mouth to reply and he cuts you off, “I don’t want to know,” 

“Sweetheart, I’ll read one for you next,” and Satoru scans his list, and he clears his throat, holding out his hand to you, your name on his lips, “the only way I could die happy ever is if I suffocated when you sat on my face,” 

And heat climbs your face at his words, a single chuckle giving way to full laughter, “***, that’s a lot of pressure to put on me—“ 

“And on them,” Satoru adds, and you’re glaring at him only to dissolve into giggles, “I can't blame them. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go,” 

“It’s my turn,” Suguru scans the list and grimaces, “I don’t want to read this,” and then he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, “I’d let Satoru Gojo **** me, spit in my mouth, and make my daddy issues worse, and I’d thank him for it, respectfully,” 

And you’re doubled over in laughter by the time he gets to the end of his monotone reading, while Satoru only grins at the camera, leaning against the table, as he pulls his sunglasses on only to tilt them down his nose. 

“I’m available.” 

No, this press junket did not help at all. 

“Fuck,” you grumble, propping yourself on your elbow, your knuckles pressed to your lips, “how are we still trending? Aren't there other things to talk about?” 

“Stop checking it, it’s only making you crazy,” Suguru sighs, collapsing next to you on the couch, his hand thrown over the top of the couch, before it slips down behind you, warm palm resting on your hip, “there’s nothing you can do,” 

“My agent said she’s definitely going to get news on whether I got the part tomorrow — and tomorrow is when the last episode of the season is airing, and when—“ 

“The scene with Kenjaku at the end, I know,” Suguru presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, “think I could pull off stitches?” He drags a finger across his forehead teasingly. 

“If you’re asking for a lobotomy, I always wanted to try doing one,” Satoru walks in from the shower, hair still damp, as he squeezes on your other side, “Princess, you can be my nurse, hm?” 

“Did you already have one?” Suguru bites back, and Satoru doesn’t reply, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “she’s still worried about tomorrow,” 

“Don’t you know there’s no such thing as bad publicity?” Satoru presses a sweet kiss to your neck. 

“Not when they’re speculating if I’m dating or cheating on one or both of you,” you shake your head, “what if the director thinks I’m a liability?” 

“If the director thinks you’re a liability after seeing your work and meeting you, then he’s clearly blind,” 

You flick his sunglasses down, “can you say that four eyes?” 

“Don’t you mean six eyes?” Satoru sticks his tongue out at him, and Suguru’s fingers find yours, laced hands against your thigh, “whatever happens, happens — you know your worth,” 

“And your worth is far too high for you — only I could afford it,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you shove Satoru, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you against him, his lips grazing the soft skin behind your ear, “how much?” 

“For you? A billion dollars,” and his lips find yours in a kiss, lazy but warm, heat from his touch spreading like a flames carried by the wind. 

“That all? What a bargain,” Satoru pulls a breath away, his lips curled in a grin, only for Suguru’s fingers to cup your chin and make you turn around. 

Deep purple irises you grew lost in, his thumb dragging down your kiss bitten lips, “and for our princess?” He hums, lips grazing yours teasingly, “a steal,” 

“Well, you both stole my heart so you might as well have the rest,” and Suguru’s lips finally find yours in a real kiss, deep and full, until your mind is filled with nothing but him — and Satoru, whose  lips ghost over your shoulder and collarbone and hands slip under your shirt, warm palms against your far too heated skin, “fuck—“ you’re sighing, melting agaisnt them, “Sugu, Toru,” you’re whining already, drawing smirks to both of their lips. 

“Let us take care of you, sweetheart,” Satoru whispers, lips finding your earlobe and sucking at the sensitive skin, and Suguru pulls away from your kiss for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

“We’ll get your mind off things, Princess,” and his fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, “all night long.” 

And they do, they keep their promise — the three of you falling into bed in a jumble of limbs, and you forget until the next morning. 

And in the morning—you get the call, “okay, thank you,” you hang up, still between mussed sheets and arms wrapped around your waist, “I got it!” 

“Heh, I knew you would,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in your side, “I’m so proud of you, baby,” 

“Hm? Proud of her for what?” Suguru murmurs, half asleep, black locks strewn around his head like a halo. 

“I got the role, Sugu,” you lean down and kiss his nose, and he’s grinning wide, fingers winding into the back of your head to pull into a kiss, “you’re looking at the leading actor of a movie,” 

“You’re going to be in demand now, Princess,” Suguru says, dragging a thumb down your lips, “will you still make time for us?” 

“Of course, always — you’ll visit me on set right?”

“You sure, sweetheart? Maybe you’ll be too busy for us,” Satoru leans up and presses a kiss on your neck. 

“Maybe for you,” and he’s pouting, and you lean down to kiss his pout away, and then you get an email, “oh it’s the casting sheet for the other roles,” you scan the list, “oh,” 

“‘Oh?’” Suguru raises an eyebrow. 

“The male lead, he’s someone we know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, “and I’m already getting a headache,” 

Satoru furrows his brow, as the two of them lean over your shoulders to look — Satoru scowling and Suguru glaring at your screen, as they say his name at the same time — as if summoning him from the underworld. 

“Sukuna?” 

Ryomen Sukuna was both famous and infamous in the industry — famous for his portrayals of villains and antiheroes alike, ability to make you despise the enemy to the point of near or blatant admiration, and his skill of stepping into each role and taking it as his own. And he lives in infamy for, well, what happens between takes of the camera. 

“Look any longer and I’ll have you thrown off set, brat,” Sukuna says, without a glance at you, newspaper in hand as if he was pulled from thirty years ago, his phone seemingly laying discarded on a nearby. The P.A.s nearby cower a few feet away, trying to look preoccupied, as their terror has fully set in of this man. 

Or should you say monster?

“I see the stick up your ass makes you as pleasant as ever,” you mutter, and you don’t see that it earns you a smirk from him, his dark gaze takes over you, earning a glare from you, “now who’s staring?” 

He leans against the arm of his chair, “I was just noticing how lovely the view is without those two pests hanging on your every word,” and you’re rolling your eyes. 

“Jealous?” 

“Of your little throuple? No,” he smirks, rising from his chair, hands sliding into his pockets as he brushes by you, “because unlike those two,” he pauses, voice dropping to a whisper, “I know how to satisfy a woman on my own,” 

And you grit your teeth, holding your tongue — your relationship with Satoru and Suguru was a badly kept secret on the set or Jujutsu Kaisen, but it never was a problem — until now. 

You follow behind him, heading to the director’s trailer for your meeting before rehearsals began. 

“You want us to what?” 

“We spoke to your agents, and they agreed with us that it would be good publicity for the two of you to pretend to be a couple during the filming and leading up to production,” the director leans back in his seat, “it shouldn’t be a problem — the two of you have worked together before right?” 

You can’t hide your aghast expression in time, not before Sukuna glances at your face and sees the horror, and it puts a rare grin on his lips, “I’m in, what’s a little more acting?” 

You’re swallowing thickly, eyes flitting over Sukuna’s smug grin so fast you only hoped your gaze was sharp enough to cut,  “Can I please speak to you privately?” 

And Sukuna gets up from the edge of the table he leaned against, flashing you a wry grin, “see you out there, sweetheart,” and you wished you could rip out his heart and show him how very sweet you were — but you bite your tongue, waiting for the door to swing shut, “I—“ 

“Do you know part of the reason we choose you over the other actor vying for your role?” The director cuts you off, arms crossed over his chest, and you shut your mouth, shaking your head, “Jujutsu Kaisen has done tremendously this season — one of the most viewed shows across the world and do you know part of the reason?” and again you shake your head, “your P.R. stunts with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto,” 

You knit your brow together — not your talent, your work, or art — but your boyfriends? “Your ability to have chemistry with the both of them have enticed the public and the number of times you’ve trended alone this season—“ 

Your fingers curl into fists, “With all due respect—“ 

“If you do this, the film will be a hit — i see you two already, there’s chemistry—“ 

You scoff, “more like a fucking bomb,” you mutter, running your fingers through your hair, “bottom line, do I have a choice?” 

“You do,” he says, arms crossed, “but so do I,” fuck, you grit your teeth. 

You emerge from the office, Sukuna waiting right outside, leaning against the wall right beside the doors,  “you fucking make this difficult—“ 

“And you’ll do what, brat?” his face twists with his frown, as he leans over, lumbering over you, “what do you think you could do to me?” And he’s clicking his tongue, the condescension rolling off of it, “director told us to play nice, so be nice,” his lips curl, “but I like you mean too,” 

He stalks off and you’re scrubbing a hand down your face. You were so fucking screwed. 

“You what?” Satoru’s mouth gaped at you, twisted in pure disgust, while Suguru only stared at you, as expressionless as Satoru was expressive, “and you agreed?” 

“She didn’t have a choice, Satoru—“ 

“That’s because the bastard didn’t give her a choice,” Satoru’s face twists again, this time in anger, brow furrowed, but lips in a sharp smile, “so why don’t we not give him a choice either?” Satoru is pulling his phone out. 

“What are you doing—don’t—“ 

“One call, and I’ll have this guy firing Sukuna—“ 

“And there goes any actors or directors who will want to work for me if these guys go off, and you know they will,” you shake your head, “I’ve run this — it’s either I do the movie or I don’t,” 

Suguru frowns, hands in his pockets, “What do you want to do?” 

Your face in your hands, “I don’t want to drop the movie because of this, I can’t—“ 

“Then you do it,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, and Suguru tilts his head at him, “and after you become the biggest star out there, I’ll take care of that director and Sukuna,” 

You and Suguru both snort, “Well that was verging on heartfelt,” Suguru shakes his head, “but he’s right, you can’t let two bullies kick you off your movie, you earned this role — and when you act circles around everyone else, you’ll have carried it too,” 

You wrap your arms around both of them, “How’d I get so lucky?” You murmur, and Satoru’s nose brushes against yours before meeting your lips, while Suguru kisses wet kisses against your neck, “encouragement and threats of violence,” and Satoru only grins, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” and Suguru rolls his eyes, before his arm slips around your waist. 

“And he really means anytime, last time you talked to Toji, he pouted for two hours,” Satoru glared at Suguru, while you laughed, pulling the snowy haired actor close. 

“It’s so cute when you’re jealous, Toru,” you kiss his chin, eyes sliding to Suguru, “but you’re terrifying,” 

“What are you talking about?” And Satoru chuckles, tilting his head. 

“You mentioned me during Toji? You nearly yanked our princess away from him,” and Suguru furrows his brow, lips a thin line, “maybe we should drop by during rehearsals,” 

You scoff, “Yeah that sounds like a terrible idea,” and Suguru’s arms are wrapping around you, “Sugu—“ 

“If we can’t spend as much time together, then we better make this time count, isn’t that right, Satoru?” 

“You’re right,” and Satoru’s hands slide under your baggy t-shirt, “better use all the time we have,” and as they lead you to the bedroom, your limbs entangled, you knew you weren’t sleeping that night. 

But you didn’t know that would be the last time you’d be sleeping with them at all for the next month. 

“You have to cut down the time you spend with anyone else — especially other men,” your agent told you, “that goes for Gojo and Geto too,” 

“Why is this role controlling everything in my real life too?” you mutter under your breath, “why does it matter we won’t get caught—“ 

“Like all the other times you didn’t get caught?” and your words leave you abandoned as no articulate response comes to mind, “it’s for a couple months. You can have them visit on set, you can still see them once a month, but not every day,” 

“But why—“ 

“Once a month reduces your chance of being seen with them exponentially over the next few months. Just deal with it. After this, you won’t have to put up with bullshit,” she hangs up, as you stare at your phone screen, squeezing it at the sight of Satoru and Suguru’s good luck texts — and why did it feel like you still always would have to keep putting up with bullshit? 

“Better not fucking cry. We have to pretend to fall in love in ten minutes — I would rather not be looking at something ugly this early,” Sukuna cuts into your thoughts, hands in his pockets, as he sips his coffee. 

Exhibit A. 

“We’re not shooting for an hour,” you were on set after getting ready, waiting for the weather to clear up for the shoot, and he gives a gruff chuckle

“Not that shoot.” 

“Looks like Sukuna not only has taken over Itadori’s body, but also the heart of one of Jujutsu Kaisen’s fan favorites,” you groan, earbud slipping out for a moment, just like your life was slipping, “the actress and co-star were spotted getting cozy off set before shooting had even begun for the day,” 

Oh what the fuck. 

You toss your phone away before falling back in bed, far too empty without Satoru and Suguru, only their pillows to keep you company as you twisted in the sheets. You had passed off your social media to your agent to handle — it was bad enough when you were caught in a love triangle with Satoru and Suguru, but now Sukuna? You can only imagine what people would say about you. 

And you didn’t need to see it to do that. 

But that wasn’t important. It was your day off, you turned over in bed, burying your face against your boyfriends pillows — nothing a nap couldn’t fix. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Or maybe not. You slide from the arms of sleep reluctantly, already missing the warmth of the covers as the cold air hits your skin. You’re rubbing your eyes as you check who it is before opening it. 

“Satoru? What are you—“ and his arms are around you in a moment, your breath catching, “Toru—“ 

“You see what they’re saying online?” His gaze is stoic, lips a thin line. 

“We can’t—“ and he’s shutting the door before locking it, before he’s had you pressed against the wood, the grain dragging against your skin. 

“They said you two make the perfect couple,” he cups your chin, his breath warming your lips, “even more than me or Suguru—“ his hand slides against the swell of your hip, “a walk, a coffee? Was that all?” 

Your brow knits together “Of course, you know I would never—“ and his lips ghost over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nosing at the soft skin of your neck, “Toru—“ you bite your bottom lip. 

“I know you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I know,” he says softly, “but I have to make sure he knows that,” his teeth grazes over your soft skin, “knows that you’re mine,” and his teeth digs into your soft flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, pain melting into pleasure, as your head lolls back against the door. 

“Toru, no I have rehearsals in a week,” you whine, but that just makes him soothe the blooming love bite with his tongue, “Toru—“ 

“Do you really want me to stop now, sweetheart?” he’s pulling your mouth open with his thumb, “your face says you don’t,” and his large palm slides down your body and into your shorts, the wet squelch and the brush of his fingers through the drenched fabric, “and your pretty cunt seems to agree,” 

“Toru,” you’re biting your lip, “fuck, you’re impossible,” and his mouth travels lower, as his other hand slides up under your shirt, squeezing your chest. 

“You’re the one who slept without anything under your clothes,” he murmurs in your ear, lips sliding against your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there, “you’re so wet already, hear that? Did you touch yourself thinking of us? Want us to fuck you that bad after a week?” his lips ghost over your jaw. 

“Fuck, you talk so much,” you’re pouting, thighs pressing together, but he’s pushing them apart, “why are you teasing me so much?” 

And he pauses, ocean blues stormy instead of the tranquil skies you’re used to, “Sukuna touched you. He got to hold you,” he’s pouting now, “that privilege is for us, and he got to so easily,” 

“I didn’t want him to,” and he’s nuzzling your neck. 

“Let me erase his touch,” and he’s lifting you with the practiced ease he always had. 

“Where’s Suguru—“ and you yelp as he playfully tosses you on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, a grin as he watches you bounce. 

“He’ll be here later,” and he’s kissing up your body, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts to pull them down, half lidded eyes with deep lust finding yours, “for now, you’re all mine.” 

“I-I can’t,” you’re whimpering, your hands clutching at Satoru’s back, fingernails digging crescents into his perfect skin, only hoping he doesn’t have a shirtless shoot tomorrow, but you barely can register that with three of his fingers in your pussy, “Toru,” 

How many times had you orgasmed? Six or seven at least — it was nearly second nature at this point. Satoru knew what spots to touch, where to press, how to move to have you writhing underneath him in a moment. He’s knuckle deep, spreading your walls as his thumb toys with your clit, drawing another moan from your lips. Your release soaked his fingers and sheets underneath, his fingers surely wrinkled from their time spent inside your walls. 

And by his smirk against the swell of your breast, he knew it. 

“Yes you can baby, I know you have one more f’me,” and you’re already so close, but you have been — it’s been a repeated coil winding and snapping over and over, and you’re nearly to tears, back arching as he plunges his fingers somehow deeper, “know this pretty pussy too well, look at the way you’re sucking me in,” your insides flutter around his digits again, the tips dragging against your walls, “practically begging me to fuck you more, sweetheart,” 

“I’ll say,” and your eyes barely can flit up to meet Suguru’s wry smile, corners of his lips curled, “I see you’re as impatient as ever, Satoru — started without me,” and he’s tugging his shirt over his head, “but at least you’ve gotten her ready for me,” 

“Sugu—“ and Satoru adds a fourth finger, stuffed full with him, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“Don’t want you to say Suguru’s name when I’m the one pleasuring you,” Sstoru clicks his tongue, “wanna hear you moan my name, sweetheart, when I make you cum,” 

“You’ll have plenty of chances to moan my name,” you make a whining noise in the back of your throat, pleasure felt as if it had burned out your nerves, but it still was able to overload them, the throbbing in your cunt a telltale sign, “you g’nna cum, pretty? Use your words for me?” 

“G’nna cum—ngh, Toru,” you feel that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, your walls wring his fingers as you cum, hard, your head thrown back against the pillow. And the squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. 

“Fuck, she’s so pretty everytime she falls apart for us,” Suguru groans, as Satoru leans over to kiss you, “so good for us, Princess,” you only moan in reply, lost in the pleasure that still floods your body, as Satoru pulls his fingers from you. 

And your eyes catch a glimpse of Satoru licking his fingers clean, one by one, “Still the sweetest thing I’ve ever had,” 

“Don’t hog her, Satoru,” Suguru is pulling Satoru away, settling between your thighs, “you both made such a mess,” and you gasp, as his lithe fingers brush against your still too sensitive folds, spreading them only for your juices to slip out, “I’m always stuck cleaning up, but in this case,” he drags the flat of his tongue up your needy cunt, a moan falling from your lips, as your fingers fisted in his black locks, “I don’t mind at all.” 

But that night wasn’t the end of it — no, not by far. 

It wasn’t enough for them to ravish you, now they have to show up on set — their schedules lining up just perfect to see your rehearsals (though you think their schedules had some help from using the words “contagious” and “sickly”). However the only thing they were seemingly sick with was jealousy — especially so as you sat with Sukuna, going over lines for the next scene. 

You rubbed at your neck, feeling lucky that the marks they left had faded, but they still had begged you to show up to the shoot. 

“We won’t make you uncomfortable,” Satoru pouted, nuzzling your side, as you snort. 

“Just like you said you wouldn’t leave hickies on me?” You scoff, and suguru buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses along the marks Satoru left. 

“She has a point,” Suguru murmurs, but Satoru only pouts, “but I would like to be on set so that freak doesn’t try anything,” and you run your fingers through Satoru’s snowy locks, while leaning into Suguru’s touch, “he has a reputation of making moves on all his co-stars,” 

“So? It’s not like I’ll let him,” and Satoru’s gotten you pinned to the bed, your hands trying to break free but you can’t. 

“It’s not a matter of letting him, it’s matter of him trying to do something you don’t want,” and your brows knit together, as Satoru presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“There’ll be other people—“ 

“Other people who may very well look the other way, for someone like Ryomen Sukuna,” Suguru sighs, words almost whispered against your ear,  “you know that’s how this business can be,” and it was — it could be. The Jujutsu Kaisen set was a rare exception, but this movie — the director’s words still ringing in your ears — it was different. 

“Let us just make sure you’re safe, make sure you’re okay, and then we’ll go.” 

And that’s how you ended up with their states boring into the back of your head. 

“You bringing a pair of guard dogs with you everywhere now?” Sukuna spares a glance at your boyfriends, who were relegated to stand near your trailer — Satoru stood, arms crossed over his white t-shirt, a black jacket thrown over it, his blue eyes narrowed in frustration, as if his crossed arms were the only things holding him back from throttling Sukuna. While Suguru leaned against your trailer, scrolling on his phone in his dark navy button up, stealing glances at the two of you, his eyes narrowed and lips a thin line, “don’t know if they are ready to rip you apart or me,” 

You bite your tongue, wanting to say they had already ripped you apart last night, but you only shook your head, “They insisted on coming today, I don’t know why,” 

He grunts in reply, “It’s bad timing on your end, brat,” and your eyes snap to his, and he tilts his head, leaning against his hand, “you didn’t hear? The director wants us to film our big kiss at the end of the movie,”

Your blood runs cold, “Since when?” 

“Since you were late to our morning meeting, assuredly because of those two,” he jerks his head in the direction of Satoru and Suguru, before giving them both a wide grin, “they don’t know do they?” Your silence is all the answer Sukuna needs to give a rare laugh, “oh this will be entertaining, brat, and I thought acting with you would be boring.” 

Oh, you’re fucking screwed. 

“Cut!” The director called for the billionth time, and you were about ready to wring his neck, and you were not the only one — if looks could kill, Satoru and Suguru would have had the director skewered a million times over by now. Unfortunately for them, looks did not kill, “we need more passion,” 

And you’re biting back a groan, as Sukuna smirks, leaning over to whisper, “don’t look so disappointed, I see the two idiots haven’t taught you to kiss,” 

“More like the partner I have doesn’t make kissing him appealing,” you bite back, running a hand through your hair as you spoke to the intimacy coordinator again, but your eyes keep sliding over to Satoru and Suguru, “fuck,” how were you supposed to do this with them staring you down? 

“Let’s try it again,” you both get in place for the shot, the clap of the clapperboard, as Sukuna’s fingers brushed against your cheek again. You stepped into the role, letting yourself be consumed with the passion of your character, channeling what you felt for your own loves. 

And finally your lips met his — you felt nothing, only the pressure of lips meeting one another, but you tried to show emotion, fingers clutching at his shirt in desperation, the small gasps and sighs parting your lips between kisses, and the way your hand then slid up to rest at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you, more than anything,” you murmur against his lips, nose brushing against his, “more than anyone. You can’t go. Not without me,” 

“What choice do I have?” Sukuna mutters back, his arm coiling around your waist, “it’s too dangerous for you to come along,” 

“Who said you get to make my decisions for me?” your lips curl, “and who says I can’t buy my own ticket to come with you?” And he’s shaking his head, “listen,” your fingers cup his cheek, “don’t think, just let it happen,” and you’re leaning even closer, breath warming his lips, his breath hitching. 

“Cut!” And you’re trying to pull away, but Sukuna holds you there, leaning forward, making you flinch, only to whisper in your ear. 

“Sorry, just wanted to give them more of a show,” and he lets go, lips curled in a wide grin, “looks like we have a break now, so have fun, but not too much,” he laughs, as the director beckons him over. 

You glance at Satoru and Suguru — oh fuck. 

“Sugu—uumph—“ Suguru barely let you get a step inside the trailer before he pinned you to the metal door, his hands dragged over your sides.

“Hold still, Princess, I have to overwrite every place he touched you,” his fingers trace over your cheeks, lips grazing your jaw, his thumb dragged over your lips, before catching on your tongue, “did you brush your tongue against his — run it over the seam of his lips before slipping it inside? Flick it over like you do? Did you enjoy kissing him, sweetheart?”

“Of course I didn’t—“ and Satoru’s taking the opportunity to kiss you, teeth dragging over your bottom lip. 

“Course she didn’t, but I’m sure he did,” Satoru’s fingers traced over your jaw, “enjoyed our sweets’ even sweeter lips, didn’t he?” And Satoru kisses down your jaw, while Suguru is sinking down to his knees, large palms sliding up and hiking up your dress, “should leave some marks to remind him who you belong to,” his teeth dig into the soft of your flesh. 

“Toru! No, I still have to finish the shoot — the makeup artists—“ you whine, but god, it feels so good, as his tongue flicks against his teeth marks, “fuck,” 

“Be careful, someone will hear you, Princess,” Suguru murmurs, soft kisses to your inner thighs, “hear how good you’ll feel,” his teeth sink into your thigh, nipping and sucking, “and how good we’re both making you feel,” 

“Sugu, ah, I—fuck,” and Satoru is eagerly swallowing your moans with his lips, taking the chance to slip his tongue in, while Suguru noses at the soft of your thigh. 

“She’s already dripping, how are you so pretty here, Princess?” And he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, not that you could with Satoru’s tongue down your throat, as his lips press a kiss to your messy folds, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “tastes even better,” he moans, sound reverberating against your sensitive cunt. 

“Oh that won’t do at all, we’ve barely started,” Satoru tsks all the while tugging your sleeves down to reveal your bare chest underneath the dress barely on your body at this point, crumpled fabric pushed up and down into the middle by them, “no bra, Princess? For us or for the camera?” 

“For you,” you manage between moans, Suguru’s tongue tracing teasing circles around your clit, “always for you—“ the word trails off into a moan, as Suguru meanly sucks on the sensitive nub, “ngh, fuck—“ your knees are buckling, quaking as if your bones were made of rubber, a gasp pulled from your lips, when Satoru’s lips press a teasing kiss to your already erect nipple, while he toys with the other between his forefinger and thumb, pinching and pulling. And he switches, welcoming the other with a graze of his teeth and the flick of his tongue. 

The sounds of the lewd squelch of Suguru’s mouth against your dripping cunt filled your ears, volts from his touch reaching every inch of you, “so wet f’me, pretty, you like thinking someone could hear us fucking you?” Suguru mutters, his lips pulling away for a moment, as his long fingers spread your folds for him — every inch of you exposed, “fuck, you’ve dripped all over the floor of the trailer, Princess,” 

“All that just from Suguru’s mouth?” Satoru smirks, dragging a finger down your puffy lips, while his other hand gropes at your breast, “imagine how sopping you’ll be when we fuck you,” 

And you’re whining, as Suguru teases your entrance with a finger, “You fuckers—“ you yelp as Suguru picks you up with ease and tosses you into the nearby bed — a request you had made so you could nap between scenes or during times you weren’t needed on set — not that you had gotten to use it, until now. 

Satoru’s pulling the dress up and over your head, tossing the garment away, both of their gazes dragging over your exposed skin. Satoru flips you onto your stomach, and you hear the creak of the bed behind you and you know Suguru repositioned himself between your thighs. 

“On your knees, pretty,” Suguru’s hands are lifting your legs, his fingers already teasing your sopping hole again, and he’s bracing an arm around your thighs, “such a good girl,” and his fingertips breach you only to pull away, even as your walls try to beckon him inside. 

“Fuck,” you’re groaning, needy cunt begging for release, you needed it, needed it so bad. 

“Such a filthy mouth,” Satoru clicks his tongue, as he undoes the buckle of his belt, tugging his boxers and pants down to free his weeping erection. And god, his cock is so pretty — long and pink, with beads of pearly precum dripping from the slit, lovely veins running up and down his length, “how ‘bout I put it to use sweetheart?” 

And the tip brushes against your face, smearing against your lips, before you part your lips and let his dick slap against your tongue, before letting it part your pretty lips. The tip of your tongue traces his slit, tasting his pre, as you sucked and licked along his length, until his sweet grunts slipped from his lips. And fuck, you know he would feel so good inside you, long cock reaching the places he always did and that you never could. 

But it was hard for you to stay focused when Suguru bas two thick fingers buried in your right cunt, dragging against your walls, moaning around Satoru’s length. And it feels almost too good, as if you’d melt between them, burning from their touches. And you’d still always ask for more. 

Satoru’s fingers dig into your locks, as he moans, “Fuck, s’good for me, baby,” his hips buck against your mouth, his hair sticking to his forehead, sticky with sweat, “not gonna last much longer, Suguru,” 

And Suguru pulled out his fingers, licking them clean, his face still sticky with your cum, as you whine at the absence, “she’s not either, but I think she needs something more,” and you feel his cockhead drag against your folds, and you’re whining, “not gonna put it inside baby, too much of a mess, and can’t do too much, can we?” And you feel his lips curl in a smirk, “after all, your boyfriend out there might mind,” he’s pressing your thighs together, beginning to rock forward, sending you deeper onto Satoru’s cock, making him hiss. 

“Fuck, take it, sweetheart,” his fingers tilting your head up slightly to find your eyes glazed over in pleasure, puffy lips with saliva and precum dripping from the corners, and it only makes him want to fuck your throat, “gonna go back on set like this? All messy from your ‘side pieces?’” 

“Fuck, she twitched hard when you said that,” Suguru is fucking between your thighs, his hard cock rubbing against your dripping slit again and again, delicious friction sending you closer and closer, “fuck, g’nna cum for me sweet girl?” 

And you’re moaning around Satoru, and his tip brushes against your throat with one particularly hard thrust from Suguru, and that’s it. 

Satoru’s moaning your name, unable to hold back, as he cums in your mouth, his hot load pouring down your throat, dick twitching as it continues to spurt as he rocks his hips into you. Suguru pinches and rubs your clit hard, rocking his leaking cock into you, and you cum, walls fluttering around nothing, as you soak him in your release. 

The moans of their names on your lips send Suguru tumbling over too, as he pulls back and pumps, before cumming all over your back with his thick seed. 

You’re pulling yourself off Satoru, with a wet pop, cum and spit trickling down your lips, as your tongue flicks out to clean it off. And Satoru groans, as he lays down and settles beside you, “don’t make me fuck you right here,” 

And Suguru helps you turn on your side, legs still shaking from your orgasm, as he slips up behind you, his softening cock pressed against you, pressing sweet kisses to your sweat soaked skin. 

“Think anyone heard us?” you mumble, burying your face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, and their chuckles rumble against you, making you shiver. 

Suguru answers, “No, if someone did, they would have come—“ 

There’s a harsh knock on the door, followed by the call of your name, “The director’s calling you to set,” it was your agent’s voice, “so I suggest all three of you clean up and come out.” 

Well, fuck. 

“How has shooting the film been so far?” 

“It’s been wonderful. It’s so different from filming a television series, and I’ve loved learning the nuances of film and how it’s made,” you say, sitting in the worlds most uncomfortable chair behind Sukuna, who managed to look interestedly disinterested. 

“Speaking of which, you two have worked together before, right?” 

“We have,” Sukuna replies before you have a chance to answer, “the two of us haven’t had many scenes together before, so being able to finally act together is…fate,” 

You force yourself to give a wry smile, “I forget he’s such a romantic, when he isn’t too busy calling me a brat,” the words slip out and you’re instantly regretting your words — fuck, fuck, fuck. You really just said Ryomen Sukuna called you brat — in an interview that will air on TV but also live on the internet. 

“A brat huh?” The interviewer chuckled awkwardly, “is she a bit of a diva on set?” 

“Oh and off,” Sukuna’s grin grows all the more wide, leaning against his hand and stealing a glance at you, “but I know how to tame her,” and you self consciously tug at your high neck sweater, the bites Satoru and Suguru well concealed — and you’d never have him pass it off as his own. 

Oh, you would kill him. If not for the fact that you had dug your own grave, and he only did you the favor of pushing you in and burying you. No the only funeral was your own. 

“How bad?” You ask your agent on the way home, earbuds in your ear as you sit in the back of the car, partition up as the driver makes their way to your home. 

“How bad? You mean how great! We’re getting so much traffic on that interview. People keep talking about you and Sukuna. You’re trending again,” and that was the last thing you wanted to hear and the first thing she wanted to tell you. 

Why the fuck did you want to be an actor again? 

“What are they saying about me?” 

“There’s some negative stuff about both of you, but that’s expected — mostly people surprisingly, uh, like you better with Sukuna than Gojo or Geto—“ 

“What? Why?” God, fuck the public’s want for an older man. 

“I don’t know. You guys have this chemistry in interviews. The way you guys banter it feels so personal and electric I guess?” Her voice almost makes it sounds like she agreed.

“Are you saying that or the fans?” The only thing electric about your conversation with Sukuna was the feeling of rage running through your veins faster than a million volts. 

“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s mostly fangirls of Gojo and Geto who are relieved they aren’t taken,” she adds, your silence seemingly scaring her, “you should look on the bright side, people are really excited for the movie, and after what happened in your trailer…the director’s happy too,” you see a text from Satoru and Suguru. 

The Boys 💕🤍🖤

Bangs Baby: when are you coming home? 

Six Eyed Dork: we’re already making dinner. 

And you scrub a hand down your face, never having such irritation over the prospect of dinner, “Tell that to my makeup artist,” because you know you’ll be littered with marks by the end of this. 

“We’re adding a sex scene,” and you nearly spit out your drink that morning, sitting at the round table with the director, several staff members, and an extremely unfazed Sukuna. 

“What?” you say, trying hold your tongue, that was only writhing under your hold to say something much, much worse, “that’s not anywhere in the script or the source material,” 

“It was my suggestion,” Sukuna lifts his hand casually, before pressing his hand to his chin, painted black nails gleaming in the dim light of the early morning, “the characters felt lacking,” 

Then play your role better. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead you ask, “how so?” 

And Sukuna glances at the director, who clears his throat, eyes shifting from him to you, “We thought it would be better to build more intimacy between the characters. Add a certain level of—“ 

“Raunchiness?” you scoff. 

“Tasteful raunchiness,” Sukuna corrects, doing nothing to suppress his smirk, “if you don’t want to, I’m sure we can make due with the stunt double—“ 

Fucker. He could have his pick of any movie — he was a pillar of the industry, but you had to be stuck with him. And stuck with the director following his every, irritating whim. 

You grit your teeth, “when are we shooting it?” And Sukuna grins wider, leaning back in his chair. 

“About that—“ 

“You’re going where?” You resisted the urge to rub at your temples, as you pack your things, Satoru’s pout filling the majority of the screen. 

“You heard me. We’re filming in Canada,” with a flight that left the next day, you barely had time to pack, much less talk. Fuck, you don’t have a thing for the cold, but you were told that coats and thermals would be provided — or at least they better be, “I’ll be gone for a couple weeks,” you say, wondering if the sounds of you packing would be enough to drown out or enough sweaters would somehow soften the blow. 

“Weeks?” Suguru repeats, taking the phone from Satoru, “sweetheart, you had said filming would be over soon enough — you said a month of filming in Japan—,” and you sigh, it seems like you had been doing a lot of that lately. 

The throbbing in your head only got worse — the long shoots and lack of sleep weighing on your body like iron weights around your neck, “I know, love, but the director wanted to add more scenes,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “there’s one more thing,” and Satoru is pushing into view of the camera as well, a click of Suguru’s as he shoots a glare at him, “the director decided to add…an intimate scene to the film,” 

Silence, but Suguru speaks first, “And that wasn’t in the script before?” And you shake your head. 

Satoru gives a bitter laugh, “Such bullshit. They planned it and got you to invest yourself in the movie—“ he cuts himself off, “sweetheart, I want to have a word with the director,”

“No, Toru, it won’t help,” you run your fingers through your hair, trying to keep your tone level, “it just won’t. It will just make me look like I have to rely on my boyfriends for protection,” 

“It still isn’t right, what they are doing to you is exploitative,” Suguru cuts in, “adding a sex scene last minute after you already spent weeks filming—“ 

“You don’t think I know that?” you say quietly, “what am I supposed to do? Quit? Let you guys run to the director to protect me? Great, either way, my career would be over,” the words slip out far more cutting than you want, but this has been a knife you’ve honed against stones thrown at you, and you were tired of being the one to take the blows. 

Satoru furrows his brow, “What are we supposed to do? Watch you get taken advantage of?”

“No, but don’t talk down to me like I don’t understand what’s happening,” you snap, “these weeks I’ve had to deal with fucking Sukuna and these shoots, while balancing your feelings too and I’m tired of it. I’m just done,” you shake your head, willing your voice not to break, “I’ll text you both when I board and land, ok?”

“Sweetheart—“ 

“Baby—“ 

“Bye,” and you hang up, eyes burning not just from your lack of sleep but now everything else too. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t see them. You couldn’t quit the movie. You couldn’t fix this. You couldn’t do anything — you glanced at your suitcase — except keep going. 

“You look like hell,” you don’t bother looking at Sukuna when he speaks, and out of all the seats, how did you end up next to him? Either you had the absolute worst luck in the world — or bad luck had a little help from your agents and the director. 

“You look like you’d know—been to your kingdom lately?” you’re placing your suitcase away when a flight attendant rushes over to do it for you, and you thank them, before rifling through your bag for your headphones. Noise canceling headphones that were going to be your best friend as long as you were stuck with him. 

“Why visit a kingdom when my queen is here?” Your eye twitches, and you only wish that planes worked the same as ships when it came to jurisdiction. And if so, you would have tossed him into the high seas without a second though. You could start over — no extradition on Satoru’s island. 

You glanced at your phone — no reply to your text about getting on the second flight. And they had both barely responded to your other texts about boarding and landing. Maybe it was your fault. You had blown up at them, and ignored all their calls and texts all day, until they finally stopped (even Satoru had given up sending you selfies of him crying). You switched it into airplane mode and locked it, tucking it away into your bag, before taking your seat and buckling your seatbelt. 

“Trouble in paradise?” And you scowl, pulling out your headphones, “c’mon you can tell me about your other boyfriends — I know I’m your favorite,” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You put your headphones on, your eyes growing heavy as the plane begins to prepare for take off. You choose a playlist, and start to fall asleep. The only good thing about this flight was you could finally get some sleep. 

And maybe your life wouldn’t be hell when you woke up. 

“I already got us a private jet,” Satoru walks into Suguru’s place, suitcase in hand, as he tugs his mask off, “we can be in Canada by tomorrow—we just need to pack—“ 

“What are you talking about?” Suguru looks up from his phone, “have you even thought this through, dumbass? She barely wants us coming over because of paparazzi, you think if someone sees us in Canada with her that they will write it off as a coincidence?” 

“If we’re careful, it won’t come to that,” he sets down his things, “you heard her, Suguru, she said she’s done,” 

“She’s just tired and frustrated,” Suguru sighs, tossing his phone aside, “we haven’t exactly made this any easier on her either,” 

“I know, which is why we should go make it up to her,” Satoru sighed, “I can tell by her texts that she’s upset — it’s all periods and short one word responses. Y’know that’s bad,” he’s pulling out his phone to show Suguru your texts — and Suguru ignored the several sad selfies Satoru had sent, before handing it back. 

“And we should make her more upset by doing the one thing she told us not to do?” Suguru shakes his head, “we’re better off waiting for her to calm down and come to us—“ and Satoru stares at his phone, “what is it? Did she text?” 

“No, worse,” he shows Suguru a news article — ARE THINGS HEATING UP ON AND OFF SET? SUKUNA SPOTTED WITH HIS COSTAR GETTING COZY ON PLANES AND IN THE AIRPORT.  

And below were images of you and him asleep, fingers interlaced on the plane, and a picture of him with his arm around your waist walking through the airport. 

Suguru’s eyes narrow, “Do you want risk losing her, Suguru?” And he knows it’s a bad idea, he knows it may only make things worse, but — he looks at the pictures of you and Sukuna again — losing you would be far worse. 

“When’s the flight?” 

CLICK! 

You stir at the sound, as you hear it again and again, shifting in your sleep. Fuck, what was that noise? Everything’s heavy, thoughts swimming through thick syrup as it tries to break to the surface and into consciousness. Another click makes you grasp at your headphones with one hand, the other caught on something, but you feel nothing but your neck and shirt. And finally, your eyes fly open just to find a camera lens in front of your face, and something holding your hand. 

Or rather someone. 

“What the—“ 

“Finally woke up? How was your coma?” and the photographers are shooed away, as you pull your fingers free only for him to drop your hand, wiping your hand on the seat, “I didn’t do anything but hold it,” he shrugs, “probably—“ 

You scowl, “my headphones?” He holds them up, and you gape at him, “they fell off. You’re quite the restless sleeper,” and you snatch them back. 

“They fell off or you took them off for that photo op,” you snap, glancing at him, “since when did I give my permission to be photographed while sleeping?” 

“When you decided to go into this business,” he replies drily, dry as his skin was from holding his hand, “are you that naive? Can anyone keep anything from anyone without paying them off one way or another? I’m pretty sure that’s how your little throuple does it,” 

And you couldn’t deny it — the paparazzi more than ever was a toll or a tool — a toll to pay when you wanted word to stay quiet, and a tool when you wanted things to blow up. And Satoru had been paying them off since the three of you had started this — insisting that his connection gave him discounts, but it was more likely to blow his father’s money. 

“So what was that photo op about?” The plane is slowly descending now, your ears popping, as you spare a glance outside, and he only scoffs, as if to ask if you were that stupid? 

“To announce our arrival.” 

“Why are there so many security guards and people?” you mutter, tugging at your mask, as you hurry through the airport with what felt like a military and police escort of men around you. 

“To create a scene, generate interest,” Sukuna seemed uninterested as he strolled along the airport, raising an eyebrow, “not used to this? The adoring fans,” and you spare a glance at the crowds, taking pictures more than even looking at your actual faces. 

“This is adoring?” and then the security guards begin to stumble as the crowd grows a rowdy, as people push through to get through their gates, others try to duck between the security guards to get closer. A security guard knocks against you, nearly sending you tumbling,  “what—“ 

And a wrist grabs you and pulls you hard, as the security guard tumbles to the ground, another arm around your waist. He steadies you, as you sigh, glancing to find Sukuna. 

“Be careful,” you blink — wow was he actually a nice— and then he nearly shoved you away, “don’t need you getting injured and messing up my movie,” he strides off, and you watch dumbstruck, as you watch his back recede until bodyguards check on you and urge you along. 

You can’t believe you thought even for a second that Ryomen Sukuna was nice. 

And now you had to spend the entirety of tomorrow kissing up to him — literally. 

Fucking ass. 

“You can’t seduce me into letting you go,” Sukuna smiled, one hand on your hip and the other resting against the wall, pinning you against the headboard of the bed, “just because I let you win tonight—“ 

“Then I’ve won the battle,” you reply, fingers toying with a lock of his hair, twirling it around your finger, before dragging a finger down his cheek, “it’s only a matter of time until I win the war,” 

He chuckles, hand cupping your chin, “such a brat, how did I ever fall for you?” And you only lean close, brushing your lips against his chin, delighting in the way his body shivered, “fuck—“ 

“You love it,” and he’s gotten you pinned to the bed in a moment with one hand, the other large palm sliding up your body, dragging your shirt along with it— 

“CUT!” 

You both sigh, glancing at the director as you both untangle yourselves — how many times did that make? Twelve? Fourteen? 

“I think we’ll be dead before he gets it right,” Sukuna mutters under his breath, as a P.A. brings him a towel to dab at his skin. 

“We’re calling it for the day,” the director announced, hair askew from the number of times he had pulled at it, “we’ll resume tomorrow, first thing,” there was almost an audible groan from the crew as everyone packed up for the day. 

After all that, you’re making your way to your hotel room when someone stops you, you’re trying to brush past them absentmindedly, but his voice stops you dead in your tracks. 

“Can’t run from us that easy, sweetheart,” and your head snaps up, finding Satoru in front of you, and you’re speechless, no words finding their way to your lips, before the hotel room next to yours opens up. 

“Princess, in here, before anyone sees,” and Satoru’s hand tries to find yours, but you ignore it, walking into the room, not speaking until the door clicks behind Satoru. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” and you waver when you see Satoru’s sad gaze and Suguru’s tight frown, and you sigh, evening out your tone, “sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped — what are you guys doing here? I told you it’s risky—“ 

“We didn’t want to leave things the way they were, I couldn’t. Not like that,” Satoru shakes his head, “we needed to see you, baby, I couldn’t—“ he breaks off. 

Suguru speaks in his stead, “We couldn’t fathom that was the last time we spoke,” 

Your brows knit together, “Why would you think—“ and you’re sighing, scrubbing a hand down your face as your words ring in your own ears, and you know where their minds had went — fuck, “I would never ever break up with you two,” you’re stepping forward, “you’re idiots, but you’re mine,” and their arms are slipping around you in an instant, “I just got frustrated with everything, it wasn’t just you guys — the movie, Sukuna, long shoots, lack of sleep, and not seeing you two—“ 

“We should be the ones who’re sorry,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “we made it all about us and didn’t see that you needed us,” 

“We’re never going to make that mistake again, Princess,” Suguru presses a soft kiss to your neck, and you sigh, stress melting under touch with the ease of a lit candle wick melts wax, “we’re sorry for being so selfish,” 

“Yeah, Suguru’s sorry—“ and that earns Satoru a sharp elbow from said actor, “and I’m sorry too. We didn’t mean to add more stress. You’re already dealing with so much. We should have been there for you, sweetheart,” he finds your lips in a sweet kiss that has you sighing, “we trust you — it’s just—“

“Him, I know, but I hate him,” you say, and Suguru chuckles, fingers turning your head towards him, pressing his forehead agaisnt yours, “seriously, everything we’ve done is just for the movie or for publicity,” Suguru kisses you, teeth teasingly running along his bottom lip. 

“You seemed pretty cozy with him in those pictures,” Satoru presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, and you blink. 

“What pictures?” and then it occurs to you, “on the plane? They framed those—“ and Satoru’s cutting you off with another kiss, “Toru—“ and Suguru nuzzles the nape of your neck, “Sugu—“ 

“Just let us take care of you tonight,” Suguru murmurs, lazy fingers drawing circles on your hips, “been too long since we’ve seen you, Princess,” 

In a moment they have you on your back on the bed, Satoru’s eyes gleaming with need, their hands slipping up your body, “I’m yours,” you murmur, “both of yours.” 

And that’s all they needed to hear. 

“Toru, I’m trying to make us breakfast,” you chuckle, half laughing, half exasperated, as he nearly engulfs you in a hug from behind, his face buried in the crook of your neck. 

“So? I’m not in the way,” Satoru mumbles, sighing as he kisses the skin behind your ear, “right, Suguru?” 

“You’re hindering the process, Toru,” you’re trying to flip pancakes for said boyfriend as he traces constellations of kisses against your shoulder and neck, “right Sugu?” 

“Now, now, play nice you two,” Suguru replies drily, glancing at the two of you from the couch, “can’t blame us for missing you, sweetheart,” 

“Y’know how many months I had to go without being able to cuddle you,” Satoru’s pouting against your skin now, “I have to make up for all that lost time,” 

Shooting had finally ended three months ago — after a month and half spent in Canada, you flew back to Japan. Satoru and Suguru had taken up residence in a hotel room next door (under fake names of course) for about a week before flying back because of work. Satoru had tried to convince you to let him fly back and forth, but for the sake of the environment (and your sanity), you sent them both home. 

And still, they both were acting as if you had been away for several years, not months. 

“Does it have to be now?” And Satoru nods, grinning, and you relent, “well, this is much better than having dinner with Sukuna,” 

“There’s a name we haven’t heard in a while,” Suguru raises an eyebrow, as he strolls into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. 

“Thankfully,” Satoru adds, brow wrinkled, “what does he want?” 

“Just a dinner to celebrate the end of production,” you sigh, as you step past Satoru to grab a plate for the pancakes, “the movie is going to have its premiere in a few months, so it’s also to plan ahead for that,” 

“Did they announce a date yet?” Suguru asks, leaning against the counter on the other side of you, beginning to prepare coffee. 

“Not yet, but it should be sometime this coming summer,” and you’re flipping pancake after pancake for the three of you, a stack forming, until you’re finally done. You catch the two of them shsring a look, until Satoru asks: 

“Can you get us tickets to the premiere?” 

“Of course I’m inviting the entire JJK cast,” you smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek, “why would you two be any different?”

“And what about us two?” Satoru hums, as he shuts off the stove for you, daring less than an inch away from your lips, “Do we get the VIP treatment?”

“Uh-huh,” you bite back a laugh. 

“Does the VIP package include you?” Suguru murmurs, a smirk against your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth, 

“Of course,” you murmur, as Suguru’s arms wrap around your waist, lips brushing against your pulse, “once we’re away from cameras and phones and press,” 

“All access?” Suguru murmurs, large palms slipping under your shirt, making you shiver from their cool touch, and you roll your eyes, as Satoru presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“All access.” 

“I don’t understand why we had to get ready together,” you grumble, assistants gather around you, one adjusting your gown, another fixing your makeup, and a third trying to tame your hair, “we could have just been picked up and taken to the venue together,” 

The two of you had been ushered into these adjoining hotel rooms bright and early — much too early for you to even be awake, much less have to deal with Sukuna. The only consolation was while you were getting your makeup and clothes on, you didn’t have to see him. 

“Someone might have seen us,” Sukuna replies, letting the assistant put his watch on, “or your throuple would undoubtedly get in the way,” you shoot a glare at him. 

“Can you not call us that? They have names,” and Sukuna scoffs, fingers running over his charcoal suit coat to ensure there wasn’t even a single crease, the cut of his lapels sharp as knives. 

“Like I care to remember them, brat,” and you raise an eyebrow. 

“Do you even know my name?” he bears no reaction, but the corner of his lips twitch, “you don’t even fuc—“ 

“Are we all ready?” Your agent enters the hotel room with the director, “we should start heading to the venue,” and Sukuna brushed past you, and out the door, his entourage following behind him. 

And you sighed, you were surely ready — ready to put this movie and Sukuna far behind you. 

But of course he wasn’t behind you, so much so that he was beside you. Plastered to your side for the press to eat up, his arm slithered around your waist, as you both made your way down the carpeted premiere. 

You had been to a premiere for both seasons of Jujutsu Kaisen — but never like this. The camera flashes were blinding, the sounds of the crowd deafening, and the walk down the carpet amongst all these others was disorienting. You were almost grateful for Sukuna’s gruff and short temper, he kept most interviews on the carpet from dragging too long, 

You finally make your way inside and Sukuna parts from your side a moment without a word, beckoned off by someone or another. And it feels like too much. The day, the long hours, the carpet — all of it bears down on you at once, and you feel as if someone sucked the air from your lungs, using it to fill this hall with the smallest remnants of oxygen. 

Fuck, you grasped tightly to your clutch, you were going to pass out if you didn’t go somewhere, somewhere else with less goddamn people, but where? 

And you only take a stumbling step forward, before an arm is around your waist again, and a different voice murmurs in the opposite side, “Lost without us, sweetheart?” Suguru’s voice steadies you, keeps you from slipping deeper away from them, while Satoru’s touch grounds you. 

“Let’s get her somewhere private, hm? Does that sound okay, Princess?” And you’re nodding; as the two of them discreetly usher you away, you barely can keep your eyes open, still feeling your breath lodged in your throat, choking on the very thing that was supposed to keep you alive. It doesn’t feel okay until you’re sitting on a bed, holding your head. 

You feel the bed divut in as they both sit on either side of you, and their bodies brush against yours as if to ask for permission; and you’re leaning against their touch, until they engulf you in it. 

And this was what you needed. 

You don’t think about premieres, ruining your makeup, tripping, cameras, or anything else — just both of them and you. 

“Are you okay, baby?” Suguru murmurs softly, and you’re nodding, “did you get overwhelmed?” And you nod again, and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I really wish you could have come with us,” 

“I told ya we should have just taken her with us anyway,” you know Satoru’s face is scrunched up in worry, “the movie’s out anyway,” 

“Not like I didn’t agree — I just told you she would never agree,” Suguru muttered, most assuredly rolling his eyes, “plus, we said we wouldn’t do that to her again,” 

“Can you guys not talk like I’m not here?” and they instantly refocus on you, as you bury your head in the crook of Suguru’s neck, while Satoru does the same to you, pressing butterfly kisses to your skin, as Suguru carefully carded through your locks. And you just sat like that for a while, until you grew calmer by the second and finally lift your head, “sorry,”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Satoru furrowed his brow, “you didn’t drool all over Suguru’s suit did you?” and you elbow him lightly in the ribs. 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t mind anyway, I’m used to you drooling on me one way or another,” and now you glare at Suguru, “you’re the one apologizing for no real reason,” 

“There is a reason,” you sigh, shaking your head, “we should be out there enjoying the party, but instead, we’re—” 

“All alone, with the two most important people to us?” Satoru tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “if anything, this was exactly the VIP treatment I was looking for, just us alone, in a room together?” Satoru’s tilting your head if only to press kisses up the side of your neck, nosing your pulse. 

“He’s right, princess, we only came here for you — no one else, we’re so proud of you,” Suguru murmurs, his hand finding its way onto your thigh, “and all we want is to see you happy,” 

Happy? When had been the last time you had been happy in the last few months? It had been far too long since it had been consistent — but the two people that ran consistently through every up, far too little downs? Satoru and Suguru. It had been so hard — and now it was almost over. Only a few more interviews and public appearances, and you would be done with Sukuna.

But you didn’t want to think about Sukuna now — you wanted them. More than ever. 

Your lips find Suguru’s first, lips sliding against his — a hesitation for a millisecond, before he’s melting into it, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before you’re pulling away, soft pants filling the silence, until a warm hand is turning your head, and Satoru kisses you next, needy and persistent, as he always was, his fingers threaded in your hair, grazing against the nape of your neck. But Suguru doesn’t waste time, a hand sneaking up the silt of your dress, dragging against your pantyhose, snapping the skintight, translucent fabric against your skin. 

You part from Satoru for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his, and you see the lipstick smeared on both their lips — you can only imagine what little you have left is painting more than just your lips at this point. 

“If we don’t stop right now, don’t know if I can, baby,” Satoru murmurs, guiding your palm to his already hard erection, “it’s risky,” 

“It is, someone could catch us,” Suguru is still drawing tempting circles on your upper thigh, his nose brushes against yours as he presses his forehead against yours, “What do you want to do?” 

And you knew the right thing to do would be to fix your faces and return to the party, act as if this hadn’t happened, as the three of you suffer through an evening without each other — until you get home far too late and far too tired to fall asleep beside them. That was the right thing, the sensible thing. 

But your need for them both was hardly sensible. It wasn’t sensible when the three of you had gotten drunk multiple nights after shooting together — Satoru only drinking a shot each time at your and Suguru’s insistence to get far too plastered too quickly. It wasn’t sensible when the two asked you who the better kisser was — your character the envy of every fangirl as you got to kiss the two “strongest” sorcerers — and then when you cheekily replied you weren’t sure, they didn’t hesitate to kiss you then and there, one after another — and you realized you never wanted to stop (and the three you never did that night). It wasn’t sensible to hook up again a few nights later, heading back to Satoru’s place to hang out, only for the three of you end up in bed together yet again — a habit formed, but that you couldn’t quit. And it surely wasn’t sensible when the three of you had started to date — it was far from it, in a business like this. But you did it anyway — because it was them. 

It was always them. 

You rise to your feet, facing them a moment, before turning your back to them, looking over your shoulder at them, “Well? You’re going to have to help me get out of this dress because I’m not letting you two ruin it.” 

And they share a look, before their lips curl into grins, as they reply. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Of course, baby.” 

“Suguru no—“ and he snaps the fabric of your pantyhose against you making you whimper, “I told you not—“ 

“To ruin your dress, you said nothing about your pantyhose,” his nails digging crescents into your lovely thighs, “and you should worry more about Satoru,” 

Satoru’s lips were nearly glued to your neck, tongue dragging up the side, until he pulled away to scowl at Suguru, “Eh? Why me?”

Suguru shrugs, “who left all those marks all over her neck last time?” 

“You left marks over her thighs,”

“Jealous?” 

“No, but I think you are that everyone saw mine, but no one saw yours,” and Suguru scoffs, 

“My marks aren’t for anyone else but me,” and his fingers tear at the fabric of your pantyhose, as you whine, lips curling as your skin is freed, “and if anyone else was seeing them, well,” his thumb drags across the swell of your far too wet cunt, drawing a pretty gasp from your lips, “I’d have to punish her wouldn’t I?” He kisses the skin exposed between the patchwork tears, making you whimper, “make her cum over and over, until she begs me to stop, show everyone how I fuck her well,” 

“Not as well as I do,” Satoru replies, “isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“I’m not answering that,” you scoff — you knew nothing good came from getting between their fights, except maybe getting between their bodies. 

“Then maybe we’ll have to remind you,” Suguru’s hands drag over your legs again, tugging off the shreds of your pantyhose off, “give you our dicks over and over until you tell us which one’s better,” 

“Sounds good to me, yeah?” Satoru leans down to kiss the valley of your breasts, before his fingers follow, finding the front latch with a grin, “planned for this sweetheart? And I thought I was the one who wanted this the most,” and he undoes the clasp with practiced ease, your chest exposed to his touch, nipples pebbling under the cool air. 

“You still are,” Suguru replies, as he nips at your thigh, eyes flicking down to Satoru’s obvious erection straining against the fabric of his slacks, “ready to burst just from looking at her chest, bet you wouldn’t last a minute getting her off,” 

“Oh yeah? Then let’s see who lasts longer,” Satoru undoes and tosses his shirt with ease, his deep blue suit coat long discarded, before he pulls you up into a sitting position while he lies back, and then lifts you with ease onto the middle of his bare chest, “you in her mouth or me eating her out,” 

“Toru—“ you squealed, as you squirmed, your already embarrassingly wet panties clinging to your dripping cunt, slick against his skin, but he holds your hips steady with large hands, “I can’t — I’ll crush you—“ 

“Ride my face, baby,” Satoru smiles up at you, that same smile you could never say no to — the one that made your stomach tie itself in knots, “wanna watch you cum all over my face, wanna walk around covered with your slick m—“ 

“Fuck—“ you cover your face, cheeks burning, “stop,” 

“Already embarrassed? That’s not good, Princess,” Suguru clicks his tongue, as gentle but teasing fingers pry your hands off your face, “can’t have that, we barely started,” 

“Please, baby?” Satoru pouts, and you can’t resist — a small nod, and his thousand watt smile almost makes it worth it, “take your seat on your throne, Princess,” you snort, almost. 

You gingerly shift yourself over him, still hovering as you hesitate. You whimper as he inhaled, a shudder leaving his body, “how is it possible for you smell so fucking good?” And you hear the distinct sound of him unbuckling his belt and the zipper of his pants, and you knew he was already palming at his length. 

Yet still, insecurity creeps up your body from his gaze, as he gazes up at your messy folds “Are you sure I won’t suffocate—” and he leans up to drag his tongue up your clothed cunt, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “ngh, Toru,” his name comes out far too needy for your taste, knees already beginning to buckle, quivering when he tugs at your drenched panties to snap them against your glistening folds, “fuck—” and he’s pulling the thin fabric aside, his warm breath sending ribbons of heat up your body, nearly shuddering from anticipation alone, and it’s nothing compared to when he pulls you down to seat you fully on his face. 

“Fuck,” your body folds forward, and you barely catch yourself, as Satoru’s needy tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, “Toru, oh my god —- fuck,”

You barely register the creak of the bed, and the rustle of clothes or the click of the belt, “That’s the idea after all, princess,” Suguru knelt before you, his pretty cock aching for you and an inch in front of you — he was thicker than Satoru, lovely veins that you wanted nothing more than to trace, and pretty beads of pre-cum dripping from his slit, “are you going to be a good girl and—” he hisses when your lips part to suckle at his tip,tongue flicking over his slit, before you let his cock part your lips again. 

But Satoru wasn’t one to be ignored — his tongue circling your clit faster, as his hands rest on your ass, squeezing, before slapping his hand down against the sensitive flesh, sending you forward onto Suguru’s cock. 

Suguru grunts, fingers threading into your strands, nails digging into your scalp, “s’fucking good for me, princess. Such a good cockeater,” his fingers cup your chin, forcing your gaze higher, eyes blown out in pleasure, boobs bouncing with the way you rocked against Satoru’s face and Suguru’s shallow thrusts, the heavy weight of his dick on your tongue. 

And Suguru can’t resist — palming at your breasts because you’re so pretty when you whine, as he pinches your erect nipples before rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. You moan around Suguru’s length, your hands grasping at his hips, sloppily sucking him off, as Satoru grinds his face against your cunt. 

The wet squelch of your pussy rings in your ears, greedily lapping at your juices like a man wanting to drown, diving deeper and deeper to depths unknown. And when his thumbs reach up to part your hole further apart, you’re nearly choking on Suguru’s dick, as Satoru’s tongue slips into your entrance. 

You whine when he teasingly pulls away, pressing sweet kisses to your clit, “Gonna fuck you right, sweetheart — make sure you can’t remember anything tonight except the feel of my tongue inside you, that is, until I fuck you open,” and he’s burying you back, moaning at the feeling of your juices slipping off the side of his face, “gotta open wide for you baby — gotta swallow this whole cunt, yeah?” 

And you would have moaned if you hadn’t had your mouth full of Suguru’s dick, nearly beginning to choke on it when he began to lazily thrust into your mouth, a shiver down his spine as he looks at you drooling around his length, sloppily tracing his veins, a graze of his teeth against the sensitive skin, and a hiss parts his lips, “careful there,” and he gives a particularly hard thrust, “don’t want me to fuck this throat do you?” and your moan makes a mean smirk curl his lips, “or maybe you do,” 

Fuck, you were getting close — and so was Suguru by the way his hips began to buck into your mouth, and Satoru for that matter — the wet sounds of his fisting his cock along with the messy moans against your cunt sending more pleasure up and down your spine. And fuck, his bucking against his hand was making the bed shake — and god, you’d reach behind you and jack him off if you weren’t holding onto Suguru for dear life. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, swallow my cock, fuck, g’nna cum soon,” Suguru’s balls slap against your face as he begins to fuck your mouth in earnest, “Toru looks he’s about ready to burst too, gonna clean up our cocks before we fuck you, pretty?” 

“Fuck, she nearly clamped down on my mouth from that,” Satoru says, thoroughly muffled from your heat pressed tight to his mouth, his tongue then returning to fuck you, as you ride his face to find your release, unable to think about anything else but cumming, “cum on my face, baby,” and when Satoru sucks around your clit, a sharp palm bearing down on your ass again, you’re cumming, grinding and riding out your high on his face, as he welcomes your release with an open mouth. The wet sounds of his slurping and sucking, as your juices roll off both sides of his face and stain the mattress underneath him.

And then you’re eagerly sucking at Suguru’s cock, swallowing around him as he fucks your face, “g’nna cum, are you gonna let me cum alone — are you going to help Satoru cum too?” and he’s helping you reach back, leaning back with you so his cock never parts your pretty lips, and right as your fingers brush against Satoru’s cock, squeezing around the base, you hollow out your cheeks, letting Suguru’s tip brush your throat. 

They both groan your name as they cum, thick spurts of Suguru’s release down your throat, while Satoru cums all over his stomach and your hand. They slowly still their movements, Suguru slowly pulling his cock from your mouth, strings like a spiderweb of cum and your spit connecting your lips to his dick, and Satoru helps you off his face, eyes shut as your legs are still shaking from the way he ate you out still, as they lay you down on the bed. 

Your eyes flutter open to find Satoru licking his face clean, still glossy with your release and his spit, “Fuck, sweetheart, how do you taste so good?” he murmurs almost reverently, a grin on his lips, “I’ll have to sit on my face more often,” and you’re rolling your eyes. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be sitting on my throne very often, you weirdo,” you chuckle softly, far too breathlessly, and you turn to Suguru to find him leaning on his elbow, gaze still dark. 

“Well, you do have two thrones after all,” Suguru leans down to find your lips in a kiss, tasting himself on your lips, a soft moan pulled from your lips, “you’ll have to use the other at one point or another,” 

“Jealous?” you echo Satoru, and Suguru has you pulled into his lap in a moment, your back pressed flush to his chest, his cock already far too hard, far too quickly, and your head falls back as he drags the tip over your still sensitive folds, “a-ah, Sugu, I—” 

“The only thing I’m jealous about is that the only thing that’s been in this pretty pussy tonight has been Satoru’s tongue,” and he’s tilting your head down, to watch your cunt rub against his length, a whine leaving your throat that you barely recognize as your own, “think we should fix that, shouldn’t we?” 

“Room for another over there?” Satoru adds, drawing closer, his length in hand, as he lazily pumps it to full mast, and you whimper at the sight of him, “our princess is so needy, she needs two of us to fill her, yeah?” 

And Suguru takes the opportunity to spread your folds with his hand, and sink his length into you, your head falling back into his shoulder, as a pornographic moans parts your lips, and Suguru is shushing you all the same, as he works himself into you inch by inch, “Don’t want anything to think we’re filming a different kind of movie in here, hm?” 

“Imagine the headlines then,” Satoru hums, as he teases your clit with his cock, “movie star found cheating on her co star — one dick just wasn’t enough — she needs two,” 

“Can they blame her?” Suguru’s finally inside you fully, his stretch far too delicious, shorting out your nerves with the pleasure — and you swear your cunt was making a mold of his cock, complete with every lovely vein, pretty curve, and each inch, “this pussy deserves the best after all,” 

“S’full,” you’re a mess, walls already fluttering around Suguru, practically begging him to begin moving, while welcoming Satoru in with folds that only craved his cock, “so big,” you whine. 

“Mmhmm, I know, baby,” Satoru’s tilting up your chin, lips curled in a grin, “Suguru’s almost too much for me — how are you going to fit me too?” and you whimper, shaking your head, “you still want me?” and you nod far too eagerly, and he chuckles, “well, you heard our princess, Suguru, mind giving me a hand?” 

And you furrow your brow, unsure, until you feel Suguru’s hands reach around to your front and spreads your pussy lips wider for Satoru, making your cunt clamp down on him, “fuck, she just got tighter,” but Satoru takes it in stride, gathering some of your juices on his fingers to further lube himself up. 

“No matter how much we fuck her like this, she’s always so tight for us,” Satoru’s pressing his tip to your spread entrance, and you whimper, “maybe tonight,” his fingers tilt your chin upwards, “we’ll finally fuck her to remember our shapes,” 

And he guides his cock into you, and Suguru braces your body against his as your back arches, as both of their lengths stretch you open — like they said, no matter how many times they did this, you never quite got used to it. 

But this pleasure? You were far too used to — they had ruined you for anyone else, because no matter what, no man could please you like either of them, much less both of them. 

“S’full, fuck, I-I can’t—” your walls are squeezing them hard, dicks rubbing together, drawing deep groans from both of them. 

“Don’t have to break our dicks off to get us to fuck you all the time, baby,” Satoru mutters, panting, as he lifts your leg, hooking one around his hip, “already gonna fuck you stupid anytime you want,” 

“Shit, I’m not gonna last that long, Satoru,” Suguru says through gritted teeth, pressing heated kisses to your neck, “gonna start moving, sweetheart,” and you’re nodding, as they both begin to fuck you in tandem. Suguru thrusted upwards steadily, forcing you to ride him, allowing his dick to sink into sweeter depths, pleasure ripping up your spine, while Satoru fucked into you at a rough pace, hands gripping your thighs as he did. Both of their movements drove the other deeper into you, reaching depths you didn’t think were possible. 

“F-fuck, Sugu, Toru,” you’re babbling, lost in the thick haze of pleasure, dripping over your skin like hot molasses, slow but burning all the same, as your walls fluttered around both of them, “s’good, I can’t—” tears burning at your eyes, as your hands brace themselves on Satoru’s shoulders. 

“That’s it, such a good girl, been thinking about you spread out on me like this since the moment I saw you,” Suguru grunts, rutting into you faster, “couldn’t wait to rip off this dress to fuck you right — didn’t think you’d let us so soon,” and you swear their cocks were kissing your cervix at this point, and surely you’d look down and see a bulge in your stomach from how deep they were. 

“Pretty girl takes us so well, no one compares to you, sweetheart,” Satoru sighs, watching the way his cock sunk into you again and again, “you’re ours, just ours,” 

“I’m close, s’close, g’nna—” pleasure built like a coil in your stomach, ready to snap, and they were only more than happy to pull you apart, as long as they were the only one to put you back together. 

And Satoru rubs at your clit, a moan on his lips, “Cum for us princess,” and you do, toes curling as you cum hard with their names on your lips, clamping down around both of their cocks. Low moans of your name leave their lips as they fuck you through your orgasm, hips stuttering when they slowed, “g’nna cum,” 

“Where—” Suguru chokes out, and you’re leaning into Suguru, while your arms wrap around Satoru’s neck, pulling him close. 

“Inside, please, give me your cum,” And they both moan, slowing until they notch themselves deep as they both cum, thick releases painting your walls, continuing to fuck their cum deeper inside, “ngh, fuck,” And Suguru finds your lips in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, as Satoru digs his teeth into your neck, no protest coming to your mind, only just a want for more, more, more. 

And they slow, creak of the mattress and the pants stilling into silence, as you lean back against Suguru, Satoru’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder as the three of you bask in the afterglow. 

And finally, Satoru slowly pulls himself from you, groaning as he watches the evidence of the double creampie they gave you drips from inside you, “Fuck, sweetheart, we filled you up,” 

“A shame to waste it,” Suguru murmurs, as he pulls his softening erection from inside you, “should we plug her up, make her keep our cum inside her for the rest of the night?” and you’re biting back a moan, but Satoru doesn’t miss the way your lower lips twitch. 

“Oh, she likes that,” Satoru grins, cupping your face to find your lips in a languid kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue that teases teasingly over the seam of your lips,  “or maybe we should fuck her again and give her more until it drips down her thighs all night, hm?” 

And the moment is fraught with tension, as the two of them lean in again to kiss you, before the door bursts open, making all three of you freeze. 

Fuck (and not in the good way). 

“Oi, what the fuck,” the three of you glance over, as Satoru and Suguru hurriedly covered you up with Suguru’s nearby discarded jacket, “you fucking idiots—” 

“Look who’s talking,” Satoru scoffs, “fuck off,” 

“I would say the same to you, but you already did,” Sukuna shakes his head, “all night you’ve been gone, and you can’t be bothered to keep track of the time?” and your brow knits together, “it’s nearly time for the fucking—”

“Question and answer, with the press,” the warmth of their embraces erased in a moment by the news, a bucket of ice water spilled over your head, “fuck,” you’re trying to scramble to get up, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t out there like this—” 

“No fuck you can’t,” Sukuna scoffs, and Suguru glares at him, as he helps you into your dress, while Satoru stands with his jacket as a partition.

“Stop talking if you’re not going to help,” and you’re lucky the dress doesn’t require six people to get into, and you had chosen something relatively simple, with a fucking string corset you were beginning to regret as Suguru tried to retie it as best he could, “fuck, why was this dress so easy to take off?” But he finally gets it, as you open the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“My makeup, my hair — I can fix it, but not the way it was before,” you’re covering your face, how was your career over before you barely started? “Fuck, what do I do—” 

“It’s simple,” Satoru sighs, “as much as I hate to suggest this, and I probably will go gouge my eyes out—” 

You sigh, “Toru—” 

“I have an idea,” Satoru’s eyes slide to Sukuna, disgust evident in his face, until he glances back at you, “but we’ll need his help,” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t know your name either,” Satoru’s head snaps back to Sukuna. 

“You don’t know—” 

Sukuna smirks, “What’s the plan?” 

Satoru’s expression sours, as he scratches the back of his head, “Well…” 

“You surprised me, brat,” Sukuna says, as he holds your arm, as the two of you make your way back into the ballroom, and you’re adjusting your dress, still far too self conscious — as if everyone could see what you did — even though that was the plan. 

“That I agreed to this?” you murmur. 

“No, that you bit me that hard,” he rubbed the mark you left on his neck, as your cheeks burn, “didn’t expect a tiny thing like you to be able to bite that well,” 

“Well, I had to make it look real,” you look away, but look back when you’re about to reach the doors of the ballroom, “fuck, everyone is going to look at us, aren’t they?” 

“Let them enjoy the show,” an arm slides around your waist, “you know they will.” 

~~~

It’s only been a few weeks since the film premiered, and it’s already far surpassed some of the top grossing films this year. A lot of the buzz generated from the film has been around rumors surrounding the relationship between the two lead co-stars—their tumultuous relationship seems to have come to an end—

And you tune out the video for a moment, scrolling into the comments to see what people are saying: 

sukunasthirdleg69: damn can i get on him next? 👅 

gegesnumber1hater: wonder if she got back with gojo or geto again? 🤭 I’d like to see that groupchat pop off. 

gogecutestprincess replied to gegesnumber1hater: no way she lost her chance with gojo and geto 😤 they deserve better…like each other

You chuckled, at least the news of you and Sukuna had spread as planned. You had enough of the coverage of the premiere with the zoomed in images of your clothes and the marks on both of your bodies. But finally it was done — but how long would it be until you slipped up with Satoru or Suguru and the rumors would begin again? 

“What are you thinking about so much? Aside from me,” Satoru collapses on the couch beside you, hair still damp from the shower, arm slipping around your waist, as he leans over your shoulder, “what are they saying now?” 

“Just more rumors — some are wondering if we got back together,” 

“How could they ever think we let you go?” Suguru presses a kiss to the top of your head, before sitting beside you. 

“I still hate that they think the marks I left are from Sukuna,” Satoru mumbles, as you flip through the comments, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, “how could they not realize it was my hard work that put those marks there?” 

“Because it’s so distinct,” you snort, and he’s pouting as you press a kiss to his cheek, “not everyone has your sharp eyes, Toru,” 

“And yet you saved every picture they got of her,” Suguru smirks, and Satoru glares at him, “but I did too,” 

“What are we going to do when they start talking about us again?” Satoru tilts his head at your question. 

“Let them,” Satoru leans back on the couch, fingers toying with a strand of your hair, “and if you really don’t like it, we can pay them off,” 

“And if I don’t want to pay them off?” Both of them furrow their brows, “what if I want them to know?” You add, chewing on your lip, “about us?” 

“You want to?” Suguru’s gaze softens, “but more than us, it could impact your career,” 

“It already had,” you scoff, when had it not recently? If it was going to be like this, you would at least like to be in control of the narrative, “everyone is always talking about us, well,” your lips curl into a grin, why don’t we give them something to talk about?” 

“And what would that be?” Satoru hums. 

You lock your phone screen, “When does shooting and press start for season three of jjk?” 

~~~~

A few months later….

“A successful film, several offers to be in other blockbusters, and now you’re back shooting season three of Jujutsu Kaisen,” the interviewer leans back, shaking her head, as she fans herself with her interview cards, “I think we were lucky to get an interview with you now! Although it isn’t in person this time,” 

“Well, you can’t forget your roots,” and you couldn’t — this was the first show that had requested you for an interview all those years ago when season one of Jujutsu Kaisen was airing, even if you had relegate them to a video interview, “it feels like this year has been that in many ways,” 

“Oh? How is that?” and your lips curl. 

“Last year with my first feature film and everything else, it felt like starting over — starting from scratch with something so new that I barely recognized myself at some point,” your hands clasped in your lap, “this year, after the film gained so much traction, and going back to film the show that made my career, it just feels like coming home — especially to the cast,” 

“Speaking of the cast, are you going to see more behind the scenes with Gojo and Geto?” she grins, “so many of your videos with those two went viral — are we going to see more of the three of you messing around?” 

And you can’t help the smile on your lips, “Oh definitely you will be seeing more of that,” you’re tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and the lights glint off a set of two rings on your finger, diamonds glinting as if begging for notice, and you hear a small gasp. 

“Is that—” and you freeze a moment, before your smile grows wider, and the interviewer squeals, “Are you married?” 

“Guilty,” 

The interviewer grins harder than you are — and you’re not quite sure if she’s more thrilled at the news or of getting this exclusive, “Who’s the lucky man?” 

And you open your mouth, when the camera goes out of focus for a moment, only for it to come back into focus with Satoru and Suguru leaning into the frame of the camera, their arms around your sides. And Satoru lowers his sunglasses with a smirk. 

“Who said it’s just one?” 

✧ a/n: ahh this was super fun to write just because of how much crack it was hahah, i hope you guys enjoyed <3

✧ taglist: @forest-hashira , @supilyu , @yamaguccitadashi, @kentocalls, @magicalgirlb, @ssetsuka , @isabeauwolf , @lemonintrovert01 , @astraecea-silversin , @cerene-dipity , @whorefornoodles , @hobimysolecito , @risuola , @ja-zz , @spider-fan72 , @jayathelostdragon , @therealestpussyeater , @too-much-snow , @umarureid , @rosso-seta , @maddie-jayne , @at-the-chateau , @cherrypieyourface, @sleepysaurusworld , @lucilferz , @spltbtch , @bobfloydluvsblackwomen , @johannakhalafalla , @augustwinesworld , @catsgomurp , @psychxbby, @hellkaiserinphoenix , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @cstandsforchaos , @sunamatic , @lycoris-01 , @mua-for-now , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @voids-universe , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @gorouenjoyer

[the-acid-pear]

I'm sooo frustrated with my dad atm. I'm exhausted in general as previously mentioned but my dad's refusal to solve anything which directly affects me because I depend on him. Like I'm fucking disabled that's the thing and the more I'll stay the same if I'm not given the tools and help and etc I need.