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hoshigray · 10 months ago

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˙⋆✮ FIRST PERSON SQUIRTER.ᐣ.ᐟ ✮⋆˙ | jjk men

꩜ᯅ꩜ choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna & toji × how they deal with a squirter!?

contents: JJK men x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences (true form! kuna) - kissing/making out - thigh-riding - [anal] fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - sqůirtǐng (ofc) - facesitting - Daddy kink - 69 + doggy style + full nelson positions - overstimulation - clitoral play (grinding + swiping + pinching) - praising - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, cutiepie, good girl, little thing, etc.) - degradation + humiliation - mention of blood and drool/spit.

word count: 5.3k

a. note: goin on a trip next week, so i leave y'all with this until the next one ☆ enjoy !!

ᯓ꩜ Chōsō Kamo

You giggled. “You ready, baby?”

He smiles back. “Bring it on, sweetheart.”

Having a partner willing to try new things with you is undoubtedly a blessing. Wouldn’t you want to try anything and everything with your partner—learning new things and sharing experiences with the person you love and cherish the most in this globe?

It adds to your trust in one another – an exchange enhances the companionship…even if it’s in the bedroom!

“Okay, Choso, get ready.”

Your boyfriend nods from below you, watching from between your thighs as you descend your lower half where his face is, and the two of you moan once the lips of your labia land on his awaiting tongue.

This was all your idea, by the way: you’re the one who pulled on Choso’s shirt as you two watched the television from his bed, his caramel eyes drifting to you after grabbing his attention. It was difficult to ask at first, stumbling with your words as this embarrassing request isn’t something you make regularly. Once you got your words out, it wasn’t surprising to see your boyfriend a little flustered as you were.

However, that didn’t stop him from accepting it – albeit bashfully �� confidently, igniting a colossal quirk of happiness to affect the glow of his bedroom. So, here you two are, putting this new experience to the test.

“Mmmm, oh God,” you purr with chewed lips, fighting the urge to swing your hips as Choso mouths you.

Choso has his hips on your waist to keep you steady as he does his work, using his lips and tongue to please you in this new position. His tongue swims around your inner labia, the folds coated with your wetness mixed with his saliva. You exhale through your nostrils, your thighs sluggishly move to have your man attend to the surface, and you mewl at the flick of your clitoris. Oh shiiit…!

Having you on top of him like this was not something the brunet expected, thinking this would be a lazy day to hang out with his cute companion on this slow Friday. However, to have easy access to taste your fluids within his vicinity in this erotic position...he’s starting to like it a little too much.

“Ohhh, my God, Choso,” you shrill with a gasp. “You’re so good…Feel so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He questions below your waist, poking your clit with his tongue. “You like riding my face?”

He can’t see it, but you nod impetuously. “Yessss! Yees—Shhaaah! Fuck, your tongue…!” You lick your lips and bite as you bring your waist lower, his nose bumping on your clit. “More, give me moreee…!”

“Heh, sure thing,” he titters at your enthusiasm as his hands curl to your buttocks, bringing you further down to his level. You whimper as he sucks on your vulva with purpose, lapping his tongue around to tease your entrance before he pushes it in. Here is where Choso changes the atmosphere, fucking you with his tongue and collecting more of your essence to drink. All you can do is wail and swing your hips faster, and your boyfriend quickly catches the rhythm. Shit, tastes so good…!

“Uhhgg, feels so fucking good—Mmmaa!” Holy hell, this was too much! There’s so much going on underneath you outside your control, only having the command of your waist to influence. Your thighs jiggle as you resort to bouncing on your boyfriend’s face, and your hands ball on the comforter the two of you lay on.

Choso’s tongue goes frantic, wiggling the wet muscle around your insides and pulling you in to sink more into your overwhelming taste and smell. The more you bounce on his face, the more his nose hits your clitoris, your bud sending shocks up to your head to enlighten the exhilaration! Faster and faster you go, the same for the tongue lapping all over your vulva and sucking on you purposely.

“Choso..!! Cho—shiiiit—Chosooo!!” You cry out with trenched brows and closed eyes, electric shocks spiraling all over your body with all the growing pressure.

Your body then gives in, and you let your essence out of your system. Your fluids shower all over Choso’s face as you come on his tongue; your boyfriend is not swayed by the liquid hitting his face, just focused on slurping your wetness covering your cunt. Quivers force your thighs to jolt, jerking your whole frame as you let the waves of your orgasm hit until everything relaxes.

And when it does, you sigh heavily and lift your ass. Choso watches the sight before him, his spit blended with your come all within your inner thighs. The heat from his face spreads to his ears — oh, he hopes he doesn’t get addicted to this.

“Oh my God, Choso,” your boyfriend snaps to your call. “Your face, it’s all wet!”

“Hm? Oh!” It takes a second to realize that he is utterly drenched with your satisfaction, scoffing with a smile. “Guess we both got a bit too excited.”

You chuckle as you leave to grab a hand towel from his bathroom. “I’m sorry about that!”

“It’s okay,” Choso takes off his shirt, which was damp on his collar, and accepts the towel you give him. “As long as you’re feeling good up there, I don’t mind drowning a bit for you, sweetie.”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re not funny.”

ᯓ꩜ Nanami Kento

Nothing puts the cherry on top of a hard day at work for Nanami than coming home and being pulled into your arms.

“Nnnmm, Kento, you feel so good…”

…And loving on him more affectionately.

You practically dragged your man into the living room, peppering him with smooches in your glee that he had returned home safe and sound, and he chortles as you beckon him to sit on the couch with you. The two of you winding down while watching the television, Nanami relaxing with a nice cold beer and taking off his necktie and blazer.

However, he’s unaware of you glimpsing through your peripheral, looking intently, sliding his tie off his collar and unbuttoning his shirt. You notice the sneak of his exposed collarbone, drifting your gaze to something else only for it to land on his pants. Lips flatten at the sight of his thighs; his hand patting on it makes you stare longer than intended, swallowing thickly to quench a dry throat.

He was taking a swig of his beer, watching the motion of his Adam’s apple with intent. Your fingers fiddling with the bottom of your sundress can’t jurisdiction your thoughts anymore, wanton desires stacking up and soon to fall like dominoes.

And when it does fall, you silently stand and walk in front of Nanami, the blonde noticing you come around to obstruct his view of the TV. “My love?” You don’t answer. “Something’s wrong?” No words yet…but you lift your dress, mocha eyes pinpointing to the cute design of your cotton thong. “Sweetheart…” you move to sit again, but not back on the couch—nope—instead, his pant-clad thigh, straddling the firm muscles, and your arms come around to cup his cheeks.

“Kento,” you finally speak, whispering for only his words to pick up. “I missed you.”

If there was one thing that could pull Nanami’s heartstrings, it was you – his pretty wife. So, when you express your love for him, of course, he has to reciprocate tenfold.

“Ooooo, yesss, Ken…please, go faster…Mmmph.”

You stay atop Nanami’s thigh, grinding your labia on his pants to the point that a damp spot is prominent in the tan color. The blonde doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he’s the one who slid your thong for his fore and middle finger to swipe on your clitoris. The touch is pleasant, fueling your waist to keep moving. With your back to his chest, he kisses you passionately from behind. Your sweet tongue meets his, influenced by the taste of alcohol, a strange combination that surprisingly gets the kiss steamier.

Nanami chews on your bottom lip, having you whimper so sublimely that shivers crawl his spine, sucking on your tongue as your hips go faster. Jesus Christ, the friction from grinding on the material of his pants feels so good, nestling in between your folds nicely and faintly bumping on your clit. However, that is for your husband’s fingers, tweaking the bud you perk to your tippy toes. Hahhh, so good!

“Mmmm, shit,” the golden-haired man curses under his breath before taking your lips into his again. “Come here, angel.” He slams his lips to yours, and you don’t plan to leave his taste as you throw your head back. One arm lifts your legs by the knees, the free hand having more access for him to stick his middle finger into your wetness.

You moan into his mouth, allowing your husband to please you with his fingers rubbing your inner texture. It starts slow until he adds the ring finger, dialing the pace for his fingertips to scratch onto places you could never reach. A hand finds his hair, his neat locks now getting disheveled because of you.

“Puhaah, ohhh, shit!” You shrill with puffy lips while Nanami kisses your cheek and chin, all the while his digits are brushing up on the upper wall of your vagina — you almost lose balance. “I’m close…!”

The magic words let Nanami know to keep doing what he’s doing, sucking the skin of your neck while shoving his fingers until his very knuckles. The clamp of your walls is sensational, addicting to the point that he doesn’t want to get his digits out yet — not until your high comes to an end.

And that doesn’t sound impossible; you scream as if you don’t have neighbors between your apartment, a watery liquid ejecting out of your glands and showering all around. Sprinkles of your clear juices hit the palm of Nanami’s hand and thigh, adding more stains to his pants to worry about.

Your heaving body slowly relaxes as your orgasm rattles your bones, Nanami laying more pecs on your beautiful skin as he permits your quaking legs to touch the floor again. Yet, you jerk when your toes feel something wet, snapping out of your daze and realizing what a show you made.

“O-Oh, my—“ you try to stand, but Nanami’s quick to catch you as your body is still under the shocks of your crescendo. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Kento, I messed up your work clothes.”

“No worries, I need to do laundry tomorrow anyway.” The blonde chuckles to your ear and kisses you again, massaging your waist.

“In that case…would you mind if I dirty your clothes some more?” Your butt presses up on the tent of his groin — which has been getting firmer and firmer once the man stuffed his fingers in you. “I’m sure you’d get some fun out of it.”

He raises a sandy brow with a smile. “Would I, or would you, since you’re the one who came onto me?”

“…A bit of both.” You both share a laugh as Nanami carries you bridally to the bedroom.

“Then I don’t mind at all.”

ᯓ꩜ Gojō Satoru

“Mmmm, can never get over this view~.”

“Can you stop commenting about it?!”

“Whaaat? I can’t say I admire my cutie’s beautiful ass in front of me?”

“You’re so annoying…” you grumble as you sigh and begin to lick the tip of his cock.

It’s been a while since you and Gojo had a good 69 session. He is busy being the strongest sorcerer of the modern era and being a full-time teacher, and you go through your day-to-day life swarmed up with work and routine. Lack of time to spend together is an onerous task to execute outside of sleeping and snoring in your shared bed.

But alas, when you two are finally resting and enjoying each other’s company this weekend, it’s a no-brainer that you two will end up skin-to-skin action sometime today.

You straddled atop Gojo, your ass facing him while his lower half was to your front, your hand stroking his length cock, following the curve up to the pink tippy top. The sight of precum starting to pool and spill over down your fingertips makes your cheeks hot, and the heat between your legs causes a twitch.

Gojo, however, grins before he kisses your labia, welcoming his tongue that invades the space between your folds. You moan as you stuff your mouth with his cockhead, treating him with peppered licks and sucks as you keep jerking him off. Fucking hell, his dick is just so lengthy, hitting the back of your throat with ease that you have to remind yourself to relax to not gag.

Lazy licks are dawned on your wet chasm, lapping from the clit up to the other end. He notices the subtle quakes of your thighs as he tongues you down and has him chuckle as he pushes his face into your frame more, his hands curling to cup your ass so he can fondle the flesh.

You mumble on his dick after he flicks your clit. “Mmmph…! Hmmmm…” Sucking on his shaft, you bob your head up and down to get accustomed to the limb. Climbing back up to the tip where you suck on it roughly with hallowed cheeks after drizzling it with saliva.

“Oh shiiit,” the white-haired man’s head hits the headboard of his bed, moaning at the attention you’re giving his cock. “So good at this, angel,” he coos as his hands curl to the front to massage and lightly pat your asscheeks like drums. “Missed this.”

“Mmmm, mmmahh…!” The tip leaves your lips, and you’re quick to keep stroking him as you lick around his crown. “Fuck, so big…”

“Well, thank you, baby,” he knows you’re probably rolling your eyes at that comment, chortling to himself. “Means a lot hearing that from someone who keeps winking at me over here.”

“Pfft, you’re so gross,” you top his cockhead to the flat of your tongue, blowing on it to make your tall partner shiver under you. “So full of yourself.”

“Mmmm, maybe so,” you whine as Gojo blows and sucks on your inner labia. “But you can’t blame me for that, right?”

“What…ever,” your feet come around and pulls his face back to your ass. “Just shut up and use that tongue—since you’re so confident.”

“Heh, so pushy.” But the thing is, Gojo is confident – narcissistically so. You saying that only probed him to flip a switch, and you’re unfortunately on the receiving end of his wrath.

Gojo’s tongue goes erratic, swishing around your vulva as if you can’t keep up with one lap after the other. Your waist goes to lift your ass away — fat chance, as his hands return behind your butt to keep you on him the entire time. The vibrations of his humorful laugh are felt in the very nerves of your folds.

You whimper aloud, the hand jerking his cock, straying off its rhythm as your body submits to the pleasure going around your lower half. He inserts his tongue into your opening, fucking your slit with pushes and pulls. He sucks your wetness with his mouth, and the hands placed on your ass grip on the flesh that has you standing on your very palms.

“—Khhh..! W-Wait, Satoruu, stop!” You cry, but the tall man only smacks your ass mischievously, having you clamping on his tongue without your conscience. “I-I said waaait!!” No signs of waiting as he stuffs his face further between your thighs; noises of him slurping your vulva sound so wrong!

Oh, my fucking God! Your legs tremble, a sign that you’re trying everything you can to alleviate. However, Gojo’s grip on you doesn’t make it an easy battle, latching onto you with vigor. No, wait, wait, stop i—“Ahaa—ahhhnn!!”

It’s no use; the fluid you release slips past your control, spraying out of the urethra and showering all over your thighs and Gojo’s lower jaw and neck. Your body yields, losing balance and slumping your whole body on top of your boyfriend as you come on his tongue and drizzle all around the space of your lower half. Shocks and quivers travel up your spine to your head to pound, leaving Gojo to keep lapping and swishing on your wet slit in victory.

“Mmmm, aahhhshit, so good…!” He blinks with hooded eyes as he licks his lips and spits on your vagina to lick slowly. “Taste so good…”

“Hahhh, ahhh, I..I told you to,” you stand on your elbows and look behind. “To…wait, dummy!”

“You told me to shut and use my tongue!” He backfires, not relenting even after sending your half-lidded glare. You groan and turn back to suck on his pink tip in defeat. “Fuck, love it when you’re all wet like this…and lucky me for being in the splash zone as you—Oww!”

You smack on his nuts. “You’re so annoying!”

ᯓ꩜ Getō Suguru

“Suguruuu…! Don’t do th–Ahhht!”

“Ahhhh, you sound so cute, baby.”

Geto plows you from behind, watching you grip the armrest of the couch as your butt is propped up and your face buried to hide yourself…Quite a futile attempt, if he says so himself, but adorable nonetheless.

Fucking in the living room wasn’t part of the daily routine today, yet here you two are. His hands grab hold of your waist as he conceals his girthy cock inside your tight cunt, stuffing every inch of him till the very hilt meets the lips of your outer lips.

Your breath is shaky as Geto’s hips move to and fro, sighing at the sensation of your tensed walls around him. You always felt way too fucking good, biting his lip to fight the urge to let his waist fly and piston himself right into you. And he enjoys the way you act as he teases you, the position giving him ideas on how to torment you idly.

Like now, as he skims a thumb around your asshole. The action of having you contract on him even more. “Nnnn! Nnooooh, don’t play with my ass…!”

“You sure? It’s been winking at me for a minute.” He chimes with a sly smile, licking his finger and switching his thumb to lather your hole with his saliva. Holy shit, the way you’re twitching around him is driving him nuts, as he hasn’t even put anything in yet.

“Do-Don’t say it like that!” You peer over your shoulder with furrowed brows, meeting the purple eyes that catch you. His hips go excruciatingly slow, your vagina feeling like a void as he pulls for absence before fulling you back as he pushes. “It’s em…barrassin—Ghhhh!”

He pushes the thumb inside while you’re distracted, and both your holes pucker in haste. “Awww, don’t be like that, my love,” his mellow voice doesn’t match the crudeness of his actions, throwing unpredictable snaps of his hips to throw you off. “Nothing about your body is embarrassing….God, your ass looks so sexy from the back—“

Another twitch of your slit—God, you’re too fucking cute. “What are you—Don’t say stuff like that…!” Your flustered reaction didn’t make it any better as Geto pushed his thumb inside until the dent and knuckle, wiggling it inside and pushing and pulling to toy with your rear. Your teeth clench onto the couch pillow while he increases the cadence of his ruts. “Mmmmm, ohmyGod…Suguu, please—“

“Hmm, you want me to stop?” He asks and observes for a cue to stop what he’s doing. You don’t say anything, though, just your hips swaying. It makes Geto scoff, “I get the feeling you don’t want me to; look at you moving your hips on your own, pumpkin. Your body’s so honest for me.”

“Haaahh, you’re soo…mean, Sugu…”

“Only when I know it makes you feel good,” he moves his bangs out for a bit. “Which is why,” then Geto slithers that same hand down to where your chasm is linked to his wet cock, and his fingers go erratically fast on your clit. “I wanna tease this a bit, too.”

Eyes widen as you shriek at the touch, moaning aloud once he removes his thumb from your ass to keep your butt onto him as he jackhammers his cock into you. Your frame is propelled with every push, the pokes on of your cervix knock you out like the wind, and the hard rubs on your clit have you seeing stars.

“—Ohhooo, oh–hoooo!! Sug’ruuu, waaiitt!!” It’s useless; he doesn’t stop, and more hits to your womb have you wailing uncontrollably. The fingers on your clit don’t let you rest, having you unable to speak a proper sentence and resort to letting your boyfriend pound into you. A few more pinches have your legs jerking, and you can’t help but let the wave smash onto you.

As your orgasm claims over your body, you squirt out, liquids falling onto the couch beneath you, point blank. Your eyes are sewn shut as your slit flutters on Geto’s penis, your substance leaking out of your glans and dirtying your thighs and legs. Oh God, no!!

Geto hisses at the feeling of you spasming on him, tilting his head to see what you’ve done. “Oh my, would’ya look at that~.”

“Shooop, don’t loook…!!” A hand moves to the side to “try” and stop him, but he catches it with his palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t look at iiiit…”

“But you did so well!” Geto kisses your hand. “Maybe I should play with your ass more—“

“Suguru, stop!”

“Kidding~,” he was not.

ᯓ꩜ Ryōmen Sukuna

Sukuna relishes the feeling of you like this — your back to his front, your legs held up by his solid upper arms while the lower hands hold your buttocks, and your holes accommodating to his two girthy cocks — like the good pet you are.

He entirely suspends you, your entire frame contorted for your arms to grip the futon sheets below. Sweat and warmth are exchanged by bare skin, the glow of the candles highlights the unioned figures within Sukuna’s quarters, and your anus and vagina are full of nothing but the two cocks stretching you and rubbing your insides.

Sukuna bucks his hips with might, and his every push makes you dizzy. Toes curl as your ass is pulled up and down to meet his hefty balls, his dicks venturing further to torture your insides with satisfaction. Your vision gets a bit hazy as the heat gets to your head, and your head begins to pound.

“What’s wrong, little thing,” your lips flatten to hinder the moan wanting to escape as he speaks behind you, feeling his breath brush the hairs of your back. “You’re silent this time around.”

“Haaaah, my Lord…” The tongue of his stomach licks your lower back with a lazy kiss. “Y-You’re…too biiig.”

He hits you with a sudden rut and purrs at the clench of your entrances. “You say that, yet your lewd body seems to accustom pretty well.” Another hit of his hips causes the tips of his cock to brush up against your sweet spots effortlessly, and you finally unclench your lips to let a wail escape. “Your body only good for taking cocks like a real good whore, huh?”

“I’m so—Mmmph…! S-Shooo fuuuull…”

“No, you’re not,” he snickers as his lower left-hand sneaks around to cusp your clitoris, your precious pearl engulfed by the sheer thickness of his digits. “Not until I fill you with my seed like a sow in heat.”

The salmon-haired man picks up the pace to drill his cocks, churning your vagina and rear like toys. Your cries fly out quickly at the point, puffy lips losing ground to stay locked. Hands balled into fists as you’re threatened by the sheer mass of Sukuna, unable to fight out of this—forced to submit to him and his persistence.

Your slit and butt are so busy with his cocks, the length of your vagina grazing your G-spot by its underside, the walls fluttering involuntarily around him. The dick inside your butt feels so utterly good; the size of him is never something you can get fully habituated to. And the hand on your clit doesn’t stop playing with it, roughly pushing and grinding on it to the point of babbling and choking on spit.

“—Hnnngh, fuck. So tight,” Sukuna licks your back and nibbles on your skin, teasing to tear your skin to taste just a hint of blood. “Feel so good…”

“Ahahhh, I caaan’t…!” Your eyes begin to water as you shut them close, lack of vision enhancing the sense of touch where it has your nerves overly stimulated. Everything is happening all at once, and you can sense the climb once the tip hits your womb. “I can’t do iiit! You’re gonna break meee!!”

“Keheh, wouldn’t be the first time.” It’s probably for the best because you can’t see the smug-ass grin on his oddly comely face. More kisses are placed on your back. “Shut up and take it, dove,” he commands you, not leaving you any room to retaliate as his thrusts increase without warning.

Your mouth is agape, and your cries are unwillingly bouncing around the shoji-paneled walls. A bit of spit comes down your lips, your hands only finding Sukuna’s waist for your nails to dig into. The grumble of his stomach traversing to your core to rumble with the vibrations. Oh, God, noo!! You can feel it – the worse of the worse. Just when you thought your humiliation wasn’t enough at this moment, it was about to skyrocket in three…two…one.

Feverish ruts to your ass, have the reins slip out of your hold, all the restraint in your body withering with every harsh push and pull. Your head pounds like crazy, nothing but a blur can be seen in your eyes, and the clear substance expels out of your urethra, leaving out of your system along with your dignity.

And Sukuna doesn’t have to see it to believe it, grinning from ear to ear as he playfully smacks on your vulva to create more of a mess. The watered-down liquid sprayed out to his thighs and the futon sheets and sticking to your inner thighs and sliding down the crack of your ass. Tiny pinches to your clit help you jerk out more to ruin yourself, your body losing strength entirely and letting the cursed man keep you in your distorted position.

“Hmph, what a bad little toy,” he criticizes you like always, the tears beckoning to leave your watery eyes. “Look at you causing a mess on my bedding; who told you to do that?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Sukuna,” your expression borderline fucked out, yet the embarrassment keeps you humble. “Forgive me…my Lord.”

Sukuna slaps onto your clit with his palm; you pucker onto his girths immediately. “You dare ask for forgiveness after the fact—I should just throw you out in the cold with these wet sheets you’ve caused.”

“N-Nooo! I’m so sorry!!” Fuck, he loves it when you plead, so desperate for his word, his submissive and breakable dove. “Pleaseee, fill me up with your seed, and I will clean it up…! I-I won’t do it again…”

“Says who?” He finally lets your legs go briefly before he spreads them over with his lower arms. His upper hands find your chest to grope. “You’ve stained my sheets with your essence; you aren’t sleeping anywhere else tonight except here with me in this exact puddle you made for yourself, you dirty pet. Am I clear?”

His final words have your skin crawl as he nibbles on your nape, and you nod.

“Good.”

ᯓ꩜ Fushiguro Tōji

“Gahhh!! Ahhhhh!!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s it; keep clenchin’.”

Toji’s fingers are stuffed inside you, stretching your poor hole with pushes and pulls that take your breath away with ease—quite literally as your arms come around his neck to keep him close.

His bedroom is filled with nothing but you: your shorts and panties decorating his bedroom floor, the smell of your lotion on your now-sweaty skin intoxicating his senses, and your damp towel laid underneath you as you lie on your back.

Toji sits right beside you, near as you keep him from leaving. Not that he planned to — of course not. When he has his ring and middle finger shoved inside your vagina and grazing your inner skin with a mediocre pace, there’s no way the older man would want to stop now. Fuck, he loved how tight your cunt was, so snug to the touch and tender to his fingertips. It drove him crazy, just like you always make him. He can never get tired of you, honestly.

“Hahhhh, Tojiii, ahhaaa…” Your whimpers get louder and louder by the second, and your back jerks to the blunt of his fingertips, poking deep inside your chasm. “Gooohh, ohhhshit…!”

“Yeah, sweetie?” His forehead touches yours, skin-on-skin increasing intimacy. “Ya like it when I fuck you wit’ my fingers, huh?” You answer with a whine as he slows his digits down, teasing the walls of your entrance while pressing on your clit with his thumb. He scoffs, “So nice and tight fr’ me, huh…”

“Ahhhh..! Bu–But I just…finished taking a showerrr!!” You wail with pleading hooded eyes that are instantly locked with intense viridian ones. “You’re making me—mmm!—dirty again…!”

He raises a brow. “That doesn’t mean anythin’ to me,” more push to your clitoris causes your body to jolt closer to Toji, and he sneers. “Getting all ready and clean fr’ me, what a good girl…all the more fun fr’ Daddy to make ya all dirty and cryin’ all over again.”

A hand grips his shoulder, exposed by his black wife-beater. “Pleasee, Daddy, it’s too—Aghahh!” He sneaks his fingers back inside knuckle-deep; the deep chuckle you hear from him causes your ears to melt.

“C’mon, mama, I know you have it in ya,” he coos with a kiss to your forehead that has you dissolve under his scarred lips. “Wring my fingers up, make a mess fr’ me.”

Another kiss to your forehead makes you whine, the gentle atmosphere only lasting for mere seconds before the pace of his hand returns to a rhythm that has you screaming instantly. Jesus Christ, those thick fingers are no joke, the stretch enough to overwhelm your senses, along with how deep they reach inside.

Every push to your cunt has you breathless, and every dig is knuckles-deep and too fast to catch up with one after the other. “Ohoooo, D-Daddyyy, n-nooo!” Yet there’s no point in begging now—once Toji is deadset on something, it’s challenging to swade him off. Especially when it comes to you, his little sweet thing… “I’m gonna—ohfuuck!—I’m so clooose…!”

Your words only egg Toji on to keep fingering you as much as he can, ravaging your delicate insides with his hand alone. He purchases his face to your neck, sighing deeply at the alluring whiff of your lotion. He licks your skin before a kiss, and the pace between your legs becomes unforgivingly faster.

Eyes roll up to the ceiling as your body shuts down without your knowledge, completely taken aback by the climax that clenches around the thickness of Toji’s fingers. Also, the water liquid is excreting projectively from the continuous knock-kneed-worthy pleasure. You let loose with a howl, your back arching with every subtle buck of your hips.

Toji looks down with a salacious grin, taking in the sight of you spraying all over his bed. The towel is doing nothing but getting damper because of you, and he can only chortle at the sight and, lowkey, thank his intuition for wearing a wife-beater so you can coat his forearm. Dazed with euphoria, your body slumps down to the sheets, sweaty and sticky from the excretions and panting heavily. So much for a shower, huh?

Toji whistles and courses his free hand atop your head while besmearing your vulva with your juices. “Good girl, mama, good fuckin’ girl.”

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

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I Want It All - Taglist/preview

Pairings:: Yandere! Choso x fem reader

Summary: Choso needs you, no he really needs you, you are everything to him and don't even know it. You don't know about the cameras he watches you on, you don't know he's jerking his cock in his office right across from you. You see a sweet, hot coworker, sort of shy, but Choso sees all of you, and when you invite him over randomly to 'hang out' Choso knows then it's his chance, to have you forever.

Warnings: Um ALOT- lol yandere behavior, obsessed ass Choso, cameras reader doesn't know about, videoing without consent, using his tongue ring as manipulation lol, explicit sex, oral (f receiving) possessive, psycho behavior, and lots more to come when it's released aha. Basically completely MDNI and NSFW- also will have mental manipulation etc.- in this preview- masturbation and spying like a freak lol

It's FINALLY getting written hehe, this is going to be a longer oneshot- based on Yandere Bestie Choso - art in the banner from 28 on X here - dividers by @cafekitsune and @strangergraphics

It's HERE

You finally do sit down, and he eyes your panties from the camera he has strategically placed, seeing that they’re purple today, making his cock throb as he sits in his office, he goes to shut the door then, staring at the image on his phone, watching you shift this way and that. Today the lace is clinging so tightly to your puffy lips he can see the outline of your perfect cunt.

“Oh my god…” He murmurs softly, if only you were his assistant, he’d have you bent over his desk right now, but for the moment he strokes his cock over his slacks, as you cross your legs, deterring his view. “Open them for me, baby, please…”

As if on command you do just that, lean back and spread your thighs, god he can’t stand how good you look, he eyes you out of one of his office windows as you smile over at him, waving so pretty. Clueless that he’s stroking his now leaky tip against his thumb, while he smiles back over to you, eyes torn between your pretty face and the upskirt view he has.

Choso’s cock springs free as he strokes himself under the desk, whimpering softly as he pictures it inside you, this is his daily routine though, stroking himself, over and over, he does so at least every day if not multiple times, using the precum and his own saliva as lube to stroke his thick cock faster. He bets you’re so tight, he bets you taste as good as you smell.

He’s leaned back, closing his eyes and murmuring your name when he hears a knock knock knock then, but he’s already cumming. “Shit, shit, shit…” He’s trying to hide his whine as he pours hot sticky ropes into his hand. “Hold on a minute!”

“Sure thing, Choso.” It’s you.

Fuck.

Choso hastily cleans himself up the best he can, tissues swiping at the sticky mess his cock has become, some of it is sticking to his black boxer briefs when he pulls himself together, opening his door. You’re smiling up at him, and he wonders if he should feel bad you don’t know he sees your panties every day, but he brushes it off, because it’s not like he can help himself.

It takes everything not to drag you in as you just stand there curiously. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re flushed as you look down a bit, biting that lower lip that makes him think insane thoughts. “I wondered… would you like to come over?”

“Come over!?” He’s got his eyes wide now, and you feel your cheeks heat up more, shifting nervously.

“Is that too much? Is it weird?”

“What no I… you… huh?” Choso sputters now, imagining every way he wants you, god your lips probably would feel so good wrapped around his tip, wouldn’t they? Cleaning his cum off himself-

“Sorry, it’s stupid. Ugh. We just are so close here but we never hang out? And I have no friends here, just a cat I think.” You’re babbling, as he’s staring at you like you’ve grown another head.

You’ve wanted to ask him out for so long, surprised he never made a move, maybe you’re not his type? But curiosity gets the best of you, just who is he when he’s not so shy, when he’s not all in his business mode. Those glimpses of tattoos on his arms when he rolls his sleeves up are too enticing.

“A date?” He whispers, and you giggle then.

“It doesn’t have to be. Or it could be.”

“I’ll be there, I’ll… bring wine?” He grins as you brighten up.

“I love wine!”

Oh, he knows.

He knows the brands you like, the type you enjoy, he knows so much about you already, he’s seen the outside of your home almost every night after work, just to make sure you get home safe of course. You live alone and you’re just a sweet, fragile thing, there are too many crazy men out there. Once he watches you, he leaves of course!

But he does notice you enjoy a glass of wine, you leave your window wide open when it’s nice out, petting your cat and sipping on it, reading some book. God you look so pretty when you think no one is watching, when your shoulders relax just so, in those moments his thoughts are far more pure, not like when he has to be tortured by the obscene amount of panties you have.

“I’d love to come over. Do you want me to bring dinner?” He’s trying to sound calm, not like he just noticed with horror he has some cum sticking to his pant leg then, which you seem to notice, tilting your head.

“I think you’ve got something…” You bend down, brushing it off, making his cock jerk as you look at the sticky substance curiously, blinking while he panics.

“Oh it’s just… it’s some… the glaze, from the donuts!” He’s taking your hand now, and you’re already just licking it off your thumb.

You just licked Choso’s cum.

Fuck.

“You got donuts? Weird you got me bagels this morning. Silly.” You tease now, brushing your thumb back across your skirt, smiling up at him again.

“I uh… raided the… office cafeteria.”

“You have such a sweet tooth!”

You have no idea. Once he tastes you he will never stop.

He doesn’t think he’ll even let you leave,

“I do, okay I’ll bring dessert, you do dinner?” You nod and giggle just a bit, the sound making his heart clench.

“Perfect, I’ll see you after work and give you my address.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Sounds good.” You shut the door, and he leans his head on it, exhaling, as you curiously roll your tongue around your mouth.

What kind of donuts taste like that?

LMAOOO I hope ya'll enjoyed the preview, this will be out very soon as it's almost done!

Perm tag crew- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @g00seg1rl @ivyvenus333 @suki91 @naomi-main @fairygardenprincesss @estrellaexists @theonlyjuggernaut

#choso x reader #choso kamo smut #choso smut #yandere choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen #choso x f!reader #yandere jjk #yandere x reader #choso jjk #soft yandere

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buckiverse · 4 months ago

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☆ warnings: mdni, this is literally just a description of how caleb, zayne, and sylus jerk off and if they watch porn

☆ a/n: I have officially decided all the boys are virgins, so i feel it's only right to write about them yearning for you but also being overcome with guilt <3

☆ Caleb

Caleb has spent so long secretly admiring you, adoring you. All he wants is for you to like him the same—but Caleb is patient. Caleb understands long-suffering and is willing to wait for you. He won’t force you to come to him. You have to want it—this, as he does. With this being said, for a long time, he will not watch porn. He’ll feel bad like he’s betraying you—like you’ll know he lusted after another person.

When you both go to college, he’d spend more time away from you for the first time, and he wouldn’t even dare to think about letting another woman touch him. He’d even have you act as a liaison, discouraging others from approaching him romantically. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t heard stories of what his friends were doing in bed, the fantasies they were living out—now he was curious.

He’s not a boy anymore, and this is different—it’s educational, he’d tell himself. When the video loaded, a woman, blindfolded, a vibrator pressed between her folds. Teasing her clit gently. The blush spread on his face furiously as he felt himself getting hard. He watched as she writhed against the toy, but not daring to close her legs as her partner commanded. He could feel the heat spreading across his neck—taking mental notes. He would love to do this to you.

Though he had no experience, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make love to you so good you’d never want to leave. He’d read books and look at fanart, especially of things you like. If you tell him about the latest manhwa you’re reading, best believe he's going to study that shit like no other. You read romance? Well, now he does, too.

He might even have a whole notepad. Seeing what works, what he likes, what he thinks you might like. He knows you well enough to guess, though he’d definitely ask you directly.

But when Caleb touches himself, he’d do it with a stolen pair of panties. Sometimes, the washer would eat your socks, underwear, and towels, which was nothing new.

Now, speaking of guilt, he knows this is horrible for him, but he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. But when Caleb saw the pair, unwashed and forgotten in the washer, he couldn’t help but pick them up and stuff them in his pocket. Now he closes his eyes, stroking himself slowly, the underwear in his mouth to muffle the noises from his lips, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. He decided this would do. Using little pieces of you to get himself off.

He would think of the times before college when he could hear your muffled moans and breaths coming from your room late at night and secretly press his head against your shared wall, trying to listen to you better. He couldn’t wait to use his newfound knowledge on you. He’s just eagerly waiting.

☆ Zayne

Zayne wants to be romantically involved with you. He desires—yearns for it. But he knows that's not the current state of your relationship and will respect the pace at which you want to take things. His busy life keeps him occupied. He almost relies on it to monopolize his attention since he can’t give it all to you. But it doesn’t stop the guilt he feels—watching porn.

It takes a lot for him actually to touch himself. He won’t do it often. Yet. It would be an actual internal conflict for him. When he finally decided he was going to watch porn, he would make it quick. The cold metal of his phone in his hand, the dark screen reflecting at him, would almost snap Zayne out of it—but he’s currently wrapped up in his lust. Even so, he still feels like he’s being unfaithful to you—the idea of you more accurately.

He’ll decide only to watch one while allowing the video to load. He’s just desperate to get off at the moment. It’s almost painful, the way his cock is straining against his slacks. Lately, waiting or sleeping it off hasn’t been working. He’d been so pent up that Zayne stayed hard the whole drive home, and now he gave in.

It's a short video, but fuck it was hot. The woman squirmed underneath her partner. And Zayne’s pupils blew wide when he saw him suck on her clit, and he could hear the *pop* of his lips detaching from her folds. The groan that fell from her lips when he pushed his tongue inside her—how his arms kept her legs pinned down, though her hips bucked upwards.

He wanted to do that to you badly. So bad that he closed his eyes, his head thrown back, his lips parted as he leaned back in the chair, jerking himself fast. He had to have you—he couldn’t take it anymore. And he came so fucking hard, and when he finally opened his eyes, he saw the come all over his slacks.

But the guilt was quickly spreading through his chest. It almost feels like he has desires towards the people in the video, but honestly, all he wants is you. He’s never even touched another woman—but still, he felt mortified at the idea that you’d look at him and know what he was doing late at night, imagining it was you there.

He would never touch another woman. You are all he has wanted since he was a child. Even back then, he only wanted to be connected to you, keeping other girls at a distance even into his adulthood. But maybe now that was catching up to him.

☆ Sylus

Sylus is patient—but only with you. He’d been frustrated for a while. Between your apparent hatred of him and the chaos in the N109 zone, it was slowly eating away at him. Still, no matter how adamant you were about holding your grudge, he’d never be angry with you. Disappointed? Maybe. But never angry.

He loved the game you were playing but wanted—needed—more of you. You were bonded to him, whether you realized it or not. Fated. And the longer you pretended to hate him, the more amused he became. Sylus knew your walls were crumbling, piece by piece.

Like the patient man he is, he waited. Even as you kept those walls standing, even as you unknowingly softened him in ways he never expected—he never sought out distractions. He wouldn’t watch porn. He didn’t need to. First of all, he was busy. Running a city, being a crime boss. You know, important stuff.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t come home late at night, exhausted, missing you. That he didn’t lie in bed on his stomach, the ache of longing settling deep. He might even pull a pillow beneath him, letting it fill the empty space—imagining it was you.

He’d press his weight into it, wishing it were your body beneath him instead. His breath would hitch, a flush burning its way across his cheeks as he rutted against it, slow at first, then more desperate. His fingers would twist into the sheets, knuckles white, your name slipping past his lips like a prayer.

He just felt so desperate. The need for you—your touch, your claim—clawed at his chest, leaving him raw. And when he finally came, hips stuttering in one last, shaky grind, a tear would slip from the corner of his eye.

Sylus doesn’t cry often—if at all. But the thought of you never choosing him? That breaks him.

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hoonstqr · 1 month ago

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DUMB PUPPY | S.JY

warnings ; smut! mdni! hair pulling, virgin jake, step-cest, experienced reader, oral(f! & m!), the tiniest age-gap(3 years), usage of petnames such as noona, baby, praise kink. 𝔳𝖺𝗆𝔭𝗂𝗋𝖾 ��𝗂𝗍𝖾𝔰 : i have an insane corruption kink for him and its so fucking bad ughh. this was also previously named as purple lace bra(if u've seen the post i made about it). reblog to support :)

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the first thought that came to your mind when you first met your new younger step brother was to ruin him.

the way he blushes when you catch him off guard, the way his eyes widen when you enter the room, the way he calls you ‘noona’ with just the right mix of shyness and respect. it makes you want to own him, to corrupt him, to turn him into your little pet, your pup.

you decide to start with the basics, making him watch as you touch yourself in front of him, his cheeks burning red as he tries to look away. “baby,"” you coo, “don't you want to see what makes noona feel good?” you purr, stroking your finger along his jaw until he reluctantly nods.

his eyes are glued to your hand as you play with your panties, the fabric growing damp from your arousal. your heart races as you watch his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming shallow. “you like this, don’t you?” you tease, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

his nod is almost imperceptible, but the way his body tenses up tells you everything you need to know. you smirk, feeling a thrill of power as you push his boundaries further. you pull his face closer to your wetness, making him inhale your musky scent. “you can lick it, if you want,” you murmur, your voice dripping with desire.

his eyes dart to yours, full of confusion and need. he’s never done anything like this before, you can see it in the way he fidgets. but you don’t care. you want to break him in, to make him crave you, only you. “please, noona,” he whispers. you can feel his cock pressing against your thigh.

you push his head down, gripping his hair firmly. “yes, baby,” you say, “do it. make noona feel good.” you feel his hot breath on your pussy, and your grip tightens as you force his face into your wetness. his tongue tentatively touches you, and you let out a soft gasp. he’s so new to this, so clumsy, but it’s endearing.

his movements become more urgent as you guide him, showing him how to lick and suck. you can feel yourself getting wetter, his inexperience only adding to the thrill. “good boy,” you praise him, stroking his hair as he obeys your every command. your other hand slides down to cup his chin, pushing it harder against your clit.

you moan, the sound echoing through the room as your body starts to quiver. your eyes are half-closed, lost in the pleasure of his tentative touches. “fuck, baby,” you breathe, “you're going to make noona cum.” his tongue flicks against you faster, and your hips begin to rock against his face.

his hands grip your thighs tightly, urging you closer, and you can feel his own arousal straining against his pants. your nails dig into his scalp as you guide him, the sensation of his hair between your fingers adding to the intensity.

his breath is hot and ragged against your skin, his cheeks red with both embarrassment and excitement. the room fills with the sound of his eager slurps and your moans of pleasure. “fuck, yes,” you pant, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge.

you look down at him, his eyes watering slightly from your grip but never leaving your own. “right there,” you instruct, “keep going, baby.” your voice is hoarse with lust as you push his head even closer, grinding your pussy against his mouth.

his tongue swirls around your clit, and you can’t help but tighten your hold on his hair, pulling slightly as you feel your orgasm building. “shit, i'm coming,” his eyes widen in surprise when you come, your juices spilling over his lips and chin.

his breathing is erratic, matching the pulsing of your pussy against his mouth. you let go of his hair, and he pulls back, his eyes glazed with lust. “good boy,” you murmur, stroking his cheek. “now, it's your turn.”

you reach for his pants, unbuttoning them with ease and pulling out his hard shaft. “so big,” you whisper, stroking it gently. “do you want noona to suck on it?” he nods, his breath hitching in his throat.

you lean in and lick the precum off the tip of his cock, savoring the salty taste. “you taste so good, baby,” you moan, taking him fully into your mouth. his hands find their way into your hair, gripping tight as you bob your head up and down.

his hips jerk slightly, and you feel his cock throb with each stroke of your tongue. “noona,” he whimpers, his voice filled with need. you look up, meeting his eyes, and then down again, taking him deeper, feeling the heat of his desire in every pulse against your tongue.

his grip on your hair tightens, and you can feel his body tense up. “are you going to cum for noona?” you ask, your voice low and sultry. he nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you take control. you suck harder, your cheeks hollowing out, your hand playing with his balls, feeling them tighten.

his breathing is harsh, and you know he's close. you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling him pulse in your mouth. “y-yeah,” he whispers, his voice breaking. you suck harder, feeling his orgasm building, the taste of him on your tongue making you wetter.

his hips buck, and he comes with a strangled groan, filling your mouth with his hot cum. you swallow it down, savoring the moment, feeling powerful as he trembles beneath you. his hands loosen their grip on your hair, and he collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily.

you give his cock one last gentle suck before releasing it with a wet pop, his cum glistening on your lips. “see baby,” you say with a wicked smile, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” his face is flushed, a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction.

“next time, we’ll do something even more fun.”

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sukunasbow · 4 months ago

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jinx fucking you with her gun ; mdni

your eyes widen as the blue haired girl waves her gun around you, slowly bringing it down and dragging it in between your plush thighs. you anxiously bite your lip and shiver at the feeling of the cold metal tracing your inner thighs, slowly inching towards your cunt.

“do you trust me, toots?” jinx smirks up at you. you suck in a deep breath and nod your head in response. “use your words.” she huffs.

“i trust you, jinx.” your voice comes out and faint and shaky. she brings the gun back up to your mouth, placing it on your lips and making them part, giving her access to your mouth. you’re about to asking what she’s doing, however you’re quickly cut off when jinx inserts the gun in your mouth. you let out a small gag at the disgusting metal tang of the gun.

“suck it.” jinx commands.

your eyes shift down to look at her in shock. despite your shock, you still listen to her demands and sensually suck the barrel of the gun, coating it with your saliva.

“good girl.” she coos. she takes the gun out of your mouth and you instantly take in a few deep breaths, still taking in what she just happened. “doing so good for me.” jinx continues praising you as she, once again, brings the gun in between your legs. “so wet and ready for me, hm? you’re so fucked up, getting off at the thought of me shoving a gun inside of you.” she mocks you.

you want to feel ashamed and embarrassed at her words, however you just can’t let yourself feel that way as she slowly inserts the gun inside of your wet hole. “oh, fuck..” your eyes flutter at the feeling of the cold metal rubbing against the walls of your pussy. you clench around the barrel of the gun.

“shit, look at her.” jinx feels herself getting wet as she watches the way your pussy devours the weapon. “she’s fucking needy.” she talks at your cunt. she slowly starts to move the gun in and out of you, intensely focusing on the lewd sounds of the barrel exiting your dripping cunt. “yeah, she’s taking it like the slut she is.” her lips part and she practically humps the ground at the sight of the gun thrusting in and out of you.

“jinx, feels so good, fuck.” you moan out in pleasure. your head falls back as the tip of the gun repeatedly gets deeper, hitting your sweet spot while the ridges of the barrel glide along the walls of your cunt. “faster, please, please.” begging for more from the blue haired girl.

jinx lets out a laugh, one that’s almost making fun of your current state. “you sure you can take it? don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“yes, i can take it!” you huff, feeling a knot slowly build in your stomach as she increases the pace. your hole caves in around the gun, clinging onto it with every movement of the barrel from jinx. “need you, please.”

“you have me.” she reassures you. “i want you to cum for me, baby.”

“yes, yes, mm’..gonna cum..” you gasp, desperately reaching your hands out to grip at her blue hair. “so fucking good!” you moan. the knot in your stomach slowly comes undone and you feel yourself reaching a high, blinding white hot pleasure taking over your body.

just as your cum gushes out of your pussy, covering the barrel of the gun in your juices, jinx clicks the trigger of the gun. your eyes widen at the click sound. your heartbeat speeds up and tears fill up the corner of your eyes as you come down from your orgasm and also deal with the shock of what she did. your mind starts racing, wondering if you were even alive.

“fuck!” your nails dig into her scalp, hoping to bring yourself back down to reality. “what happened?!”

“toots, you’re okay.” she smirks up at you, slowly taking the gun out of your cunt and showing it to you. “i told you to trust me. i would never hurt you, it’s empty.”

#not proof read atm sorry!! just wanted to post #will read over and edit possible mistakes tonight #but ive been wanting to write this for a whileeeee #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #jinx smut #jinx fanfic #jinx fanfiction #jinx x reader #jinx #arcane smut #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane x reader #arcane #fem reader #sapphic #wlw

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joemama-2 · 5 months ago

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velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation wc: 17k spotify playlist series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“What do you mean you’re just ‘giving up’?”

“Satoru, calm down.”

“Oh, calm down? You expect me to calm down when you’re just letting whoever threw all this shit on Y/N, my son just…free? You’re really not going to look harder?”

Satoru huffs in a frustrated manner, rubbing his hands through his hair, and messing up the silver locks. When he was called by his parents so early in the morning to come to their place, he thought he would’ve been greeted with good news. Any news. Not this. He not only feels immensely annoyed, but also thrown under the bus. But what else was supposed to expect from them? He’s pacing the living room, his parents standing off to the side and watching their only child try not to lose his shit.

“Satoru, we’ve all looked into this. But whoever took that picture was smart, they knew how to stay hidden. We’ve done everything in power, son.” His mother tries to placate him, holding her hand out in an attempt to gently plant it on his forearm.

He promptly pulls away before she makes contact, fixing his mother with an icy look, lip curled up slightly.

“How convenient,” Satoru snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The all-powerful Gojo family, with all its influence, resources, and connections, suddenly can’t find one person? Spare me.” His pacing becomes more erratic, his steps heavy as if each one is an outlet for his frustration.

His father finally speaks, his tone sharp and commanding, “Enough, Satoru. You’re not the only one affected by this. We’ve handled the situation as best as we could without escalating it further. Do you even understand the damage control we’ve had to do?”

“Damage control?” Satoru lets out a bitter laugh, stopping dead in his tracks to glare at his father. “You’re more worried about your reputation than your grandson’s safety, aren’t you? Or Y/N’s for that matter?”

His father narrows his eyes, his voice lowering dangerously. “Watch your tone. You think we don’t care? Everything we’ve done has been to protect this family.”

“Family?” Satoru scoffs, gesturing wildly. “If you cared so much about family, you wouldn’t just let this slide. You’d help me hunt them down, no matter what. But no, you’re just sweeping it under the rug like everything else, aren’t you?”

His mother’s voice trembles slightly, though she tries to keep her composure. “Satoru, please try to understand—there’s only so much we can do without creating more chaos. We can’t act recklessly.”

“You mean I can’t act recklessly,” he mutters darkly, taking a step back from both of them. His jaw tightens as he looks between his parents, disgust and disappointment etched into his face. “You don’t get it. None of this is just about me anymore. It’s about Y/N and Koji. They didn’t ask for any of this, and now they’re the ones dealing with it.”

His father sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you want us to do, Satoru? Tell me, what more can be done that hasn’t already been tried?”

“I’ll handle it myself,” Satoru growls, the fire in his eyes blazing. “You won’t. Fine. But I will.” Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and storms toward the door.

Yamato’s hand shoots out, gripping his son by the elbow and effectively holding him in place. Satoru turns his head over his shoulder, matching his father’s death glare with one of his own—only it looks…scarier.

The silence is palpable—disturbing. Akane stands half way in the middle, unsure if she should stop this now or let Yamato deal with it—deal with their son. She worries her lip between her teeth, brows furrowed together.

“Satoru,” Yamato’s voice is low, firm, but the underlying tension cuts through the room like a blade. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a cold smirk, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t pull away, but his entire posture radiates defiance. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to. The man who taught me that family comes second to pride. Let me go, Dad, before this gets uglier than it already is.”

Akane takes a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches out. “Yamato, please. Let him go. This isn’t the time to—”

“Stay out of this, Akane,” Yamato interrupts sharply, his focus never wavering from Satoru.

Satoru scoffs, the sound filled with disdain. “Of course. Can’t let Mom get in the way of the big, bad Gojo men, can we?” His tone drips with mockery, but his glare burns with genuine anger.

Yamato’s grip tightens, his knuckles white. “You think this is about me? About my pride? This is about you—your recklessness, your inability to see the bigger picture. You can’t solve everything with brute force, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smirk fades, replaced by a steely resolve. “And you can’t solve anything by sitting back and doing nothing.” He yanks his arm free with a sharp motion, the force of it making Yamato take a half-step back. “You’ve made it clear where your priorities lie. Don’t worry—I won’t let this ‘family legacy’ get in the way of protecting my family.”

Yamato’s jaw tightens, his expression unreadable. “Satoru, the boy is your family but not that woma—”

“Address her by name, Yamato.” Satoru steps closer to his father, the two at towering heights. Truly a frightening sight to an outsider’s perspective. “Or you and I are going to start having some serious problems.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his stoic demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation. “You think threats will get you anywhere with me, boy?” His voice is sharp, controlled, but there’s a distinct edge that betrays his frustration. “She’s the reason this mess even exists. She’s—”

“Enough.” Satoru’s tone drops to something cold, lethal. His cerulean eyes blaze with an intensity that could freeze anyone in their tracks. “You don’t get to disrespect her. Not when you’ve done nothing to fix this so-called ‘mess.’ Not when she’s been doing everything she can to protect my son—your grandson.”

Yamato stiffens, his brows furrowing. “Watch your tone.”

“I’ve been watching my tone my whole damn life,” Satoru snaps, his composure finally breaking. “But not anymore. You don’t get to sit on your throne and act like you care about this family when all you care about is the Gojo name. Koji and Y/N are my family now. Whether you like it or not.”

“You two aren’t married,” Yamato reminds his son, for what must be the thousandth time now.

Really, Satoru’s losing his mind here. He knows that. He knows you two aren’t married. But he still feels an obligation towards you—the magnetic pull to protect you from outside scrutiny that could potentially harm you and Koji. So sure, you guys aren’t married. But that doesn’t change the matter of fact here. “And what if we were?”

Akane gasps, Yamato’s eyes visibly widening in surprise before lowering down to their normal state. His jaw ticks. “Stop, don’t make jokes like that. You’ve been promised to Himari for a while now.”

Satoru’s laugh is sharp, humorless, slicing through the tense air. “Promised? What century are you living in? I’m not some pawn for you to move around, Yamato.” His tone drips with disdain as he steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over his father. “You think a promise to Himari means a damn thing to me? I’ll marry who I want, when I want.”

Yamato’s composure wavers for the briefest moment before he narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the importance of this arrangement, Satoru. It’s not just about you—it’s about securing alliances, protecting the legacy—”

“Legacy, legacy, legacy,” Satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. “Is that all you care about? Your ‘legacy’? Not your grandson, not the fact that your son is trying to do what you never could—actually be there for his family?”

Akane’s hands tremble at her sides as she steps forward, voice tentative but pleading. “Satoru, please. We only want what’s best for you—”

“No,” Satoru interrupts sharply, turning his icy gaze to his mother. “You want what’s best for you. Don’t twist it.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically shake off their words. “Koji doesn’t need your ‘legacy.’ He doesn’t need your politics or your alliances. He needs a father who puts him first.”

“And Y/N?” Yamato retorts, his tone scathing. “Do you think she’s above this? She could be using you, Satoru. She’s a liability, dragging you—us into scandal after scandal. And now, with the boy—”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, cutting through the room like a clap of thunder. He steps even closer to his father, their faces mere inches apart. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. She’s the mother of my child. She’s family. And I’ll defend her with everything I’ve got.” His voice drops, low and cold. “So go ahead. Keep pushing me. See what happens when I stop giving a damn about your ‘legacy.’”

Akane’s quiet, labored breathing breaks the tension, her hand fluttering to her mouth as she looks between the two men. The silence that follows feels deafening, and for a moment, Yamato looks like he might lash out—but then he takes a breath, regaining his composure.

“Fine, you’ve made your point clear,” Yamato finally says, his voice low and measured. “But don’t expect me to clean up the fallout when this all collapses around you.”

Satoru huffs a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I won’t. I’ve learned not to expect much from you anyway. A man who cares more about sealing business deals than the own well-being of his family.”

Yamato glares, his jaw tightening once more, but he doesn’t respond. The tension in the room is suffocating, a silent battle of wills playing out between father and son.

Satoru doesn’t wait for his father to break. Instead, he turns sharply, heading for the door. Before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes steely. “You can take your promises, your alliances, and your legacy—and shove them. I’ll protect my family, with or without you.”

And with that, he slams the door behind him, leaving Akane and Yamato in stunned silence. The house rattles with Satoru’s exit. Akane slowly turns her head towards her husband, who is still staring at the spot their son once stood in. Her jaw clenches, French-tipped nails digging into her aged palms. “You…you’re breaking this family apart, Yamato.”

“It was already apart.”

That’s it. Nostrils flaring as she hastily stomps up to her husband and delivers a slap to his right cheek. His head shoots toward his left, unflinching. He doesn’t face his wife, even after he hears the sniffling come from her.

The room hangs heavy with silence after the sharp crack of Akane’s hand meeting Yamato’s cheek. She stands there, trembling, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Tears well in her eyes, blurring the sight of her husband—unmoved, unshaken, and cold as stone.

“You’re so blind,” Akane whispers, her voice quivering. “Blind to what really matters. Satoru…he’s slipping away from us, and you can’t see it because you’re too damn proud to admit you’ve failed him.”

Yamato remains still, his head turned, staring at nothing. “I’ve done what I had to do,” he replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “For this family. For its survival.”

“No,” Akane counters, her voice growing louder, cutting through the tense air like a blade. “You did it for yourself. You’ve always done it for yourself. The name, the power, the control—it’s all you care about. You don’t care about Satoru. You don’t care about Koji. And now…” Her voice cracks, and tears spill over her cheeks. “Now, you don’t even care about me.”

Finally, Yamato turns to face her. His expression is unreadable, a mask of stoicism, but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of something in his eyes. Regret? Doubt? It’s gone before she can be sure.

“I care about this family,” he says, the words sounding rehearsed, hollow. “I’ve always cared.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Akane snaps, taking a step closer, her fists clenching at her sides. “If you cared, you’d see what you’re doing. You’d see that you’re driving Satoru away, driving us all away. You’d see that the ‘legacy’ you’re so desperate to protect isn’t worth a damn if there’s no one left to carry it. Aren’t you tired of this all?”

Yamato opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he simply stands there, his towering frame somehow diminished by the weight of her words.

“You’ve lost him,” Akane whispers, her voice breaking. “And if you keep this up…you’ll lose me too.”

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she retreats, leaving Yamato alone in the echoing silence of the living room. He doesn’t call after her. Instead, he stands there, the faint sting of her slap lingering on his cheek, and for the first time in a long time, Yamato feels the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Satoru’s driving faster than he should back home, inhaling deeply then letting it go. He stops at a red light, too close to the white line of pedestrians. His phone sits in the cup holder before being picked up once more, eyes narrowing at the article he was looking at before he stormed on the pedal home.

“Satoru Gojo and girlfriend Himari Nakamura spotted with Y/N L/N! Trouble in Paradise? Is this an end to Hitoru?!”

He bitterly scoffs once more when he sees the idiotic title to the even more idiotic article. Once again, an intrusive element to his already asphyxiating life. He knew meeting up with you to drop off Koji’s jacket might have been pushing it already, but for some reason…he found himself wanting to see your face and hear your voice. Even if it was just for a few short minutes. He hadn’t expected Himari to find him so soon, which was why he knew he needed to cut it short and keep his cool before anything unsavory happened.

Because of shit like this.

Satoru’s grip tightens on the wheel as he glares at the screen, the words blurring as his anger mounts. His chest feels tight, like the very air around him is too thick to breathe. The headline taunts him—Hitoru—the mockery of it all, the never-ending reminders of the mess he’s in. Himari’s name keeps appearing in connection with his, like some knot he can’t untangle.

Hitoru—the name they gave him and Himari when they were pushed together by their families, the perfect picture of a relationship built on top of strict obligation, not love. His fingers tighten around his phone, the familiar buzzing of frustration building in his throat.

He snaps the phone shut with a sharp motion, tossing it back into the cupholder. But the damage is done. The images of you, of Himari, of the scrutiny that surrounds them, keep circling his mind. It’s suffocating. He doesn’t even want to think about it anymore—about how you’ve been dragged into this mess.

The light changes, and he slams his foot down on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he speeds toward home. But even as he drives, his mind races—faster than the car, faster than his thoughts can keep up. He can’t shake the image of his parents, the look in their eyes, the silence that followed his exit. And now this—this new intrusion. It’s like he’s always on the edge of losing something, something he can’t even define anymore.

He turns off the road onto a quieter street, his heart hammering in his chest as he parks in front of the familiar house. The world feels too loud, the air too thick, and all he wants is for it to stop—for it all to just stop.

He grabs his phone again, his thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. He pauses, staring at it, then pulls his hand away, staring at the water in front of him instead.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself. There’s so much to fix, so many wrongs to right, but he doesn’t know where to start anymore. Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, he knocks his forehead into the leather wheel.

He wonders if you saw it already. Maybe you did, but maybe you didn’t. There’s a part of him that wants to text you to ask, and maybe even apologize. However, he’s not sure if that would be a good choice right now. He recognizes every little bit of you so easily, it’s startling. Maybe concerning?

The small downturn to your lips as you held back a frown and formed a smile, the pitch of your voice lowering in disappointment. The look in your eyes that glazed over with nothing but…betrayal? He cursed himself, eyes squeezing shut.

You probably hate him even more now for not standing up for you as you would’ve liked—as he would’ve liked. He’s starting to feel like his older self again, and he absolutely despises that. Fucking up and knowing it, but not fixing it up afterwards. He should’ve followed you back into your workplace and apologized for what Himari said to you, but he didn’t. He froze like a fucking idiot and in the end—chose another woman.

Satoru’s forehead remains pressed against the steering wheel, the heat of it grounding him in the overwhelming rush of guilt and frustration. His thoughts swirl in chaos, a vortex of what-ifs and should-haves. Every moment he’d spent ignoring your pain, every opportunity to protect you he let slip by—it feels like he’s suffocating on the weight of it all. The truth is, he knows you too well. Better than anyone else ever could. And that makes it worse.

He can picture it so clearly: the way your lips had almost quivered before you plastered that smile, the way your eyes shifted, too tired to pretend anymore. He’s seen that look before, way more times than he’d like to admit. And it terrifies him now. Betrayal. Is that what he’d done? It was almost like he had carved a bigger wedge between you without realizing it, all because he couldn’t act fast enough, couldn’t be the man you needed.

Did you still need him?

He slams his hand against the wheel in frustration, the sharp sound echoing in the otherwise quiet car.

His phone buzzes on the seat beside him with a random notification, and instinctively, he grabs it, his thumb hovering over your name again. But no—he can’t. Not like this. Not when he’s this tangled up in his own mess.

What could he possibly say?

He drags his hand over his face, muttering to himself. "God, what are you doing to yourself?"

Every time he tries to piece it together, another fragment of reality shatters in his mind. You’ve always been strong. You never asked for him to do more than what he could handle. But you’d been forced to handle so much already, and he... he’d let it all slip away.

Maybe you actually do hate me now.

He leans back against the seat, closing his eyes again, hoping for a moment of clarity. But the only thing he can hear now is the ringing silence in his head.

“Do you still love me?”

“…of course I do. I’d never stop.”

“Then why…why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“No, really. I’m—”

“Let’s go to sleep now.”

He actually feels like he’s going crazy. Snapping his eyes open. He’d never thought he’d be the person to hear voices from the past in his head, but now he’s starting to understand. His heart is beating faster than it should, mouth drying like the Sahara desert and his fingers are starting to feel fidgety. With a shaky, labored breath inward, he reaches for his glove compartment. Opening it and bringing out the picture frame you gifted him.

It’s only been a few days, but Satoru has discovered that not just staring at his son, but at you, has calmed him down in his hardest of moments.

Satoru’s fingers tremble as he holds the picture frame, his eyes drawn to the image of you. It’s a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a time when everything was different. Your smile, your eyes full of a younger warmth and something more—something he wishes he could’ve seen in person. That smile, the one that always made his heart flutter despite the chaos surrounding them.

It was just a small moment, a simple gesture—no grand speeches or dramatic declarations—but to him, it meant the world. And now, in the silence of his car, surrounded by the weight of everything he’d failed to protect, it’s the only thing that feels real.

He runs his thumb along the edge of the glass, his mind replaying the words from before—your words. His chest tightens.

“Why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

It’s a question he still can’t answer. How could he? He was so far from being the man you needed him to be. He thought the love you shared was enough, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d let it wither, neglected it in favor of his own responsibilities, his own distractions, until it had slipped through his fingers like sand. But in a way, he saw the neglect. And again, he froze. And again, he chose to turn away from you, letting you walk away.

“Satoru... I know you are.”

He flinches at the memory of your voice, still so clear, still so piercing in its sadness. He'd heard the pain in your words that night. The resignation. He should’ve comforted you more—should’ve tried harder to. It was your own understanding that whatever you two had left, he wasn’t offering it in a way that could keep you whole.

The picture frame shakes slightly in his grasp. The noise of it is almost deafening, drowning out the chaotic swirl of his thoughts. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of guilt settle deep within his chest, heavier than anything he’s ever felt before.

I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.

His breath hitches. Maybe he wasn’t entirely lost. Maybe he could still fix this.

With a shaky exhale, he sets the frame back on the seat, staring at it for just a second longer before slowly closing his eyes, and leaning back against the headrest, allowing the overwhelming weight of it all to settle over him. His heart rate evens out, his hands no longer jittering. His sweat has dried down and his shoulders feel lighter.

Maybe he should apologize. For anything at this point, so long you know he’s regretful.

He gets a ping at his phone again, one that has him reaching for it and unlocking it with quick ease. He’s set up a different notification sound for whenever you text him or call him—it separates you from the rest of the contacts. Also, it lets him know that your message or phone call is actually worth replying to.

Y/N:

Can you watch Koji tonight, please? I’m going out with a friend.

He hesitates, a wave of curiosity passing through him. What friend? Going where? He wants to ask, and he almost does. But logic wins over and he finds himself having better restraint than he would’ve expected. So, with a big inhale, he types back a simple ‘sure’.

He blames it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you dressed up in a while. That’s why his mind has suddenly gone foggy, lips parted and eyebrows raised as if he’s on the very verge of saying something. “You look…” Edible.

Clearing your throat, you stuff your hands into the pockets of the small black jacket you adorn to keep you semi-warm throughout the night. But it probably won’t do much considering your legs are on full display for everyone to see. Your white-painted toes peeking out from the black heels you wear. And not to mention, the red dress you’re wearing that’s almost too tight and short for his liking. You’re wearing a glossy red lip to match, hair down, and jewelry that stands out perfectly against your skin. If he inhales hard enough, he’ll smell the sweet scent of your floral, strawberry fragrance that always leaves him wanting—feining for more.

“…nice.”

Nice? That’s all he could come up with? He mentally berates himself, though he’s not entirely sure if he wants to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how good you look. It’s not just the dress or the heels—it’s your unknowing confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. It’s infuriatingly captivating.

“Thanks,” you reply, not meeting his gaze as you adjust the strap of your small purse. You’re not oblivious to the way his eyes linger, but you refuse to let it affect you. Not tonight, not anymore. “Koji’s already asleep, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Satoru nods, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Who’s the lucky guy?” he finally asks, his tone deliberately casual.

You pause mid-motion, glancing back at him with a raised brow. “Why does it matter?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Just curious. I mean, you haven't gone out much, so…”

“It’s a friend,” you say firmly, cutting him off before he can push further. “That’s all you need to know.”

His lips thin, looking briefly at his son’s closed door before back at your figure; watching you grab your keys. “Well…how are you getting there?” He asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

“My friend and the guy she’s talking to are picking me up. We were going to meet him there, but he said he could pick us up instead.”

“What guy?” He can’t help but ask. “Is he a good driver? Do you know him well? Do I—”

“They’re picking me up,” you reiterate, cutting him off. Looking back at him, a plain emotion on your face. “I have it situated. Just worry about watching Koji, okay?”

The words sting more than he expects them to. He watches as you step out the door, your heels clicking against the pavement. “Please be safe,” he calls after you, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

You turn briefly, offering a small, polite smile. “I will.”

And just like that, you’re gone, leaving Satoru standing in the apartment, staring after you with a sinking feeling in his chest. The thought of you out there, dressed like that, with someone else—some other guy—makes his blood simmer. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy from gnawing at him.

A few minutes and he decides to be nosy. Peeking out the window, looking down at the parking lot of the complex. He sees you getting into a car. Now, it’s not the fact that the entire car is blacked out so he can’t even see who’s in the car with you, or the fact that it has obnoxious lights on the rims. But solely the fact that it’s a Maybach.

Since when do you know anyone who drives a Maybach?

Not that he’s trying to diss you or anything, but so far, he has no knowledge of you coming across any people who could afford that kind of car. Up until now. And that thought alone has him on edge.

Or maybe it’s the signature, golden ‘Z’ emblem above the back license plate that he spots as the car drives off. His stomach turns. No. No. No. That couldn’t be. He’s just imagining that.

No way you’re in a car with a Zenin right now.

There’s just no way.

“You look cute,” Hana comments, turning around in her seat. Smiling as she gives you a once-over. “Is that the dress we bought together that one time at the mall?”

“Yeah. You look great too,” you chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You glance over at Naoya who’s currently fixated on the road. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Naoya replies without taking his eyes off the road, his tone neutral but polite. “Hana insisted we pick you up anyway.”

Hana grins, turning her attention back to you. “Of course I did! It’s been forever since we had a proper night out. You’ve been cooped up for too long, Y/N.” She gestures dramatically, earning a small laugh from you.

“I guess I have,” you admit, glancing out the window as the city lights blur past. “It’s just been… a lot lately.”

Hana’s smile softens, and she reaches back to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Well, tonight’s about letting go of all that. We’ll have fun, I promise.”

Naoya glances at you in the rearview mirror, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment before he focuses back on the road. “Just make sure you don’t let loose too much,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

You look over, seeing the corner of his lips upturned into what must be his permanent grin. You catch his eyes meeting you through the rearview mirror for a minute and it makes you feel naked. Clearing your throat and looking back at your window with an awkward chuckle.

“Naoya, the overprotective chauffeur,” Hana jokes, earning a laugh from Naoya as he puts his hand on her thigh.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two,” Naoya quips, his smirk widening as his fingers give Hana’s leg a light squeeze. “Especially when you’re dragging her along into whatever chaos you’ve planned.”

Hana rolls her eyes, brushing his hand off playfully. “Relax, Dad. We’re just going out for a few drinks and some dancing. Nothing too wild.” She winks at you. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod. “Right. I’m not exactly a party animal.”

Naoya hums, clearly unconvinced. “We’ll see about that.”

Hana waves him off. He chortles a low, smooth sound that vibrates through the car. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here to make sure my ladies get home in one piece.”

Your lips part in confusion, brows knitting together. You glance at him, but he doesn’t elaborate. Hana, ever the chatterbox, quickly fills the silence. “Well, lucky us, then! Who else gets a chauffeur who also cares about their well-being?” She leans over and plants a dramatic kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

Naoya laughs, but he subtly turns his head to the side and grimaces, wiping his cheek as if offended. You notice.

The dynamic between them is easy and light, and though you try to relax, you can’t shake the feeling of Naoya’s lingering gaze every time he catches your eye in the mirror. There’s something unnerving about the way he looks at you—like he knows something you don’t.

For now, though, you push it aside. Tonight isn’t about overthinking—it’s about having a moment to breathe.

But you shake it off, plastering a smile on your face as the car pulls up to the club. Hana claps her hands excitedly, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Alright, let’s get this night started!”

Naoya puts it in park and rounds over to the other side of the car, opening Hana’s far and surprisingly yours as well. Giving him a small nod in thanks, you go to loop arms with Hana, but she’s already doing that with Naoya.

You falter for a moment, your arm awkwardly dropping back to your side. Hana is too busy chatting animatedly with Naoya to notice, her laugh ringing out as they start walking ahead. You follow a step behind, trying not to feel out of place.

The entrance to the club glows with neon lights, and the steady thrum of bass greets you as you approach. Hana bounces on her heels, her excitement contagious as she tugs on Naoya’s arm. “Hurry up! We don’t want to miss the good music!”

Naoya glances back at you, his sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You good back there?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

Hana beams at you over her shoulder, oblivious to the moment. “Don’t let us leave you behind, Y/N! Tonight’s about you having fun too!”

“Right,” you murmur, falling into step beside them as the bouncer waves you three in instantly as soon as he sees Naoya’s with you.

Inside, the club is alive with energy—flashing lights, pulsing music, and a crowd already losing themselves on the dance floor.

In other words, it’s a sensory overload. The air is thick with the smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and the floor vibrates underfoot with the heavy bass of the music that pulses from every corner. The dim, moody lighting casts long shadows across the room, but flashes of neon blues, purples, and pinks blink and fade in time with the beats, giving the space an electric, otherworldly glow.

To your left, a long, sleek bar stretches the length of the room, illuminated by LED lights embedded beneath the counter, giving it a cool, almost ethereal glow. Behind the bar, bartenders move with practiced efficiency, mixing colorful drinks, occasionally tossing bottles into the air as part of a flashy show to catch the attention of the crowd. The shelves of liquor gleam under the shifting lights, every bottle begging to be chosen.

The dance floor is alive with movement—a sea of people in various states of abandon, swaying, grinding, and throwing themselves into the beat. The DJ booth is elevated at the far end of the room, with an impressive setup of turntables, flashing screens, and a bright spotlight that shines down on the DJ as they command the crowd. Their hands are a blur as they adjust the controls, sending waves of sound crashing through the speakers, making the room feel alive with every drop.

Above, the ceiling is dark but dotted with small, moving lights that give the illusion of stars or distant galaxies, adding to the club’s otherworldly atmosphere. A few scattered tables sit around the edges of the room, reserved for VIP guests, and each one is surrounded by plush, velvet chairs and bottles of expensive liquor.

As you move through the crowd, you catch glimpses of people laughing, chatting, and flirting, but it all feels distant—like you’re part of the scene but not entirely involved. The club is packed, but there’s a strange sense of intimacy in the chaos as if everyone is trying to escape their real lives, if only for a few hours. The energy is intoxicating, but beneath it all, you can feel the weight of your own thoughts creeping back in, no matter how hard you try to let the music wash them away.

Naoya guides you two upstairs, which shocks you because you weren’t aware this spot has more than one floor. “C’mon, upstairs is where all the important people stay.” He says, his head tilting in the direction of where he’s referring.

Hana giggles and practically bubbles with excitement. You on the other hand, not so much. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’re a very analytical person at heart, constantly checking and being sure of your surroundings. Of course, a few men pass you and Hana lingering stares, but none of them approach you.

Naoya walks over to a small VIP booth that’s been blocked off, sitting leisurely down on the couch and bringing Hana down to his lap; her arms around his neck. You sit beside them, hands in your lap. Looking around, and yep, it definitely is a different vibe than downstairs.

As you settle into the plush, velvet booth, the vibe upstairs feels even more exclusive. The lighting here is more subdued, with golden accents and low-hanging chandeliers casting a warm, luxurious glow over the space. The music from downstairs is muffled, replaced by a mix of smooth beats and more chill, electronic sounds, making the atmosphere feel like a blend of relaxation and quiet intensity. The view from the booth offers a perfect vantage point, allowing you to overlook the main floor, but with a sense of separation from the chaos. The air smells richer up here too—expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigars from the few people who seem to want a more private retreat from the crowd below. Glasses of wine and crystal-clear cocktails sit on the tables, adding to the upscale feel.

“All rounds on me. Let’s enjoy the night,” Naoya announces.

“Thank you, babe!” Hana exclaims, nuzzling into his neck.

Your eyes flicker to the other patrons in the booth with you. Some are laughing softly, holding drinks, while others sit in hushed conversations, the dim lighting making everything feel secretive and intimate. You can’t help but wonder if this is how the elite live all the time—an almost curated existence, designed for maximum enjoyment and minimal disruption.

A waitress arrives with a tray of drinks—various cocktails with elaborate garnishes, the scent of alcohol mingling with the floral air in the room. Naoya takes one without hesitation, handing it to Hana, who beams in delight. He looks over as if waiting for you to take one as well. You glance down at the assortment of drinks before finally picking up a glass, the amber liquid gleaming in the dim light. You take a small sip, the sharpness of the alcohol hitting your tongue as you try to keep your focus on the present moment, not letting your mind wander too far.

Naoya watches you with a raised brow, then leans back in his seat, his arm casually draped around Hana’s waist. He seems to enjoy the fact that you’re more reserved than the others. He chuckles lowly. “I wasn’t sure you’d be the type to go for the fancy drinks,” he remarks, his voice light but piercing as he studies your expression.

You give him a dry smile, shifting your attention toward the music pulsing through the speakers. “I’m not, but I figured it’s a good way to blend in,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation flowing without delving into anything personal.

Hana, always the life of the group, doesn’t seem to notice the tension hanging in the air. She’s already lost in the rhythm of the night, swaying her body slightly as she sips her drink. You, on the other hand, are a stranger in it all, unsure of your place here.

You’re don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s probably sooner than later when you’re nudging Hana over as Naoya is engaged in conversation with another man. “Hey, I thought we were going for the more…you know. Lively kind of night. Not a sit down and whiskey type.” You lace your words with a chuckle, though you speak the truth. You’d much rather be on the first floor, drinking expensive, but poorly made drinks and shaking your ass off on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers.

“What’s wrong with being up here? Naoya said all the important people stay here.” She tilts her head, sipping from what must be her fifth drink already. She’s drunk, obviously.

You’re teetering the line of tipsy and drunk.

“Well, yeah, sure. But don’t you want to dance or something?” You ask back.

Hana looks at you for a moment, her eyes softening with a thoughtful expression. She tilts her head, the buzz of the alcohol making her seem a little more carefree. “I mean, I guess, but I like the vibe up here more. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Her words are a little slow.

You glance down at your feet for a moment, debating your options. The temptation to be more carefree is there, gnawing at the edges of your mind. But as the music and voices continue to swirl around you, you feel more and more out of place in this sterile, high-class VIP area. You can practically feel the weight of the high-heeled shoes digging into your feet, the tightness of your dress that’s become slightly uncomfortable as the night wears on.

You shoot a glance toward Naoya, who's deep in conversation with some well-dressed man. His posture is perfect, the kind of poised confidence only someone like him could exude, while you and Hana are caught up in your own corner of the booth, the alcohol clouding your judgment but not your awareness. It’s strange to be so close to people who are so at home here but yet feel so far away.

“I think I’m gonna go dance,” you say, suddenly making up your mind. “You don’t have to join me if you’re not feeling it.” You stand, brushing your dress down as you do. Your legs feel a little unsteady, but it’s manageable. You’re not a newbie to drinking, after all.

Hana looks at you, her gaze blurry but her smile still wide. “Go for it, girl! I’m fine here.” She gives you a thumbs up, though she seems too drunk to be fully aware of what’s going on around her.

You nod, and make your way down the stairs back toward the first floor. The music is louder here, the bass thumping through your chest as you walk toward the crowd of people already dancing. Normally, Hana would never shy away from dancing with you—or straying away from you during a night out. So the fact that she’s suddenly willing to tonight makes you feel weird. But it’s probably just the alcohol.

You shake off the momentary discomfort, the need to blend into this world of expensive drinks and quiet conversations. This is what you came for.

The crowd is exactly as you expected—a mixture of sweaty bodies, neon lights, and the pulsating energy of a hundred people trying to escape their realities, if only for a few hours. You take a deep breath, letting the beat of the music invade your senses. For a second, you feel a bit more free.

You grab a drink from one of the servers, not caring much about what it is, and make your way into the center of the dance floor. The drink is cool in your hand as you take a sip, feeling the sharp burn of the alcohol before you set it aside, letting yourself be carried away by the rhythm.

The night is finally starting to feel a bit more like it should.

As you lose yourself in the music, the bass vibrating through your bones, you feel the tension in your body start to melt away. For the first time tonight, you're not thinking about the drama, the men, or the uncomfortable constraints of the VIP booth. The club is full of people, all dancing, laughing, and letting go of whatever worries they might have had earlier. You let yourself blend into the crowd, moving fluidly to the beat, forgetting about everything except the thrum of the music and the freedom in the space around you.

It feels nice. Very nice, in fact. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been to a club, let alone go dancing. You forgot how freeing it feels. Of course, the alcohol plays a role in the freeing sensation, but it’s also the fact that you can let loose. You don’t have to think of anyone else but yourself at this moment. That realization makes your lips upturn, hips swaying and eyes closing in a euphoric blissfulness.

You can tell it’s been a while since you’ve been down here by the way sweat beads at your forehead and the back of your neck. You don’t wipe it off, however. That’s the whole point.

But as you move, you can suddenly feel eyes on you. At first, it's easy to dismiss the sensation, assuming it’s just the way the lights play across the room, making everyone appear to be watching. But the longer you dance, the more you realize that someone is actually watching, their gaze sharp and unwavering. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Naoya.

His presence is unmistakable. Even amidst the blur of strangers, you can feel him like a weight in the air, his energy standing out amongst the crowd. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, his arms folded, his expression unreadable but clearly intent on you. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. Something about the way he’s staring makes your stomach flip, though you can’t quite tell whether it’s from excitement or unease.

You try to ignore it, but the discomfort lingers. You dance a little harder, moving to the rhythm, hoping the feeling will pass. But Naoya doesn’t look away. In fact, his posture shifts slightly, and the subtle smirk that plays on his lips only deepens.

At that moment, you feel an unexpected shift in the crowd around you. You glance over, expecting to see some stranger encroaching on your space, but instead, it’s just the pulse of the music getting more intense. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that Naoya is watching you with something more than curiosity. His gaze is intense, too intense for a simple night out.

The realization starts to gnaw at you. He’s waiting for something. And it’s not just the usual flirtatious attention. There’s a deliberate energy in the air, a challenge almost.

You swallow thickly, trying to push the tension away. But it’s getting harder to pretend like you’re not aware of him, especially as you move.

“Having fun?” Naoya’s voice cuts through the noise as he approaches you, standing dangerously close, almost too close. You freeze momentarily, caught off guard by his forced proximity. He towers over you, the heat from his body radiating towards you, his gaze locked onto yours like he’s studying you, dissecting you.

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, your mind scrambling for something to say, anything to break the intensity of the moment. Instead, your eyes dart toward the exit of the dance floor. You need space. But Naoya doesn’t give you the chance to retreat.

“You seem a little distracted tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low as if they’re the only two people in the room.

You know he’s not just talking about the music. A part of you wants to pull away, to tell him you’re fine, but another part feels caught in his web.

He leans in slightly, his voice nearly lost in the music. “I thought you’d be enjoying yourself up there. Why the sudden change of heart?”

You tilt your head, forcing yourself to stay grounded. “I just needed a change of pace, that’s all.”

Naoya looks you over with a raised eyebrow, his posture leaning just a bit closer. “I see.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “You’re not trying to forget anything, are you?”

You glance at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away, letting the question hang in the air for a second. Instead, he moves closer, his hand brushing against the small of your back. His touch is light, but there’s an intensity behind it, a pull that almost makes you lose focus. The air around you thickens, the moment stretching out longer than necessary.

“I’m just wondering how long you’re going to keep running away from what’s really bothering you,” Naoya murmurs, his smirk never faltering.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His words—casual, yet somehow pointed—cut through the haze of alcohol in your mind. It’s strange how Naoya can make you feel uncomfortably exposed even when he’s doing the least. That’s not normal.

“I’m not running from anything,” you say, your voice steady but your heart suddenly a little heavier. “Just enjoying the night, like you said.”

Naoya chuckles softly, though there’s a sharpness to it now. “Sure, just enjoying the night. You do that.” He leans in closer, almost too close now, his breath brushing your ear. “But you should know, sometimes the thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you, no matter how far you run.”

You tense, your pulse racing, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows something—something about you, about Satoru, or maybe even about your own deepest fears. His hands are on your hips before you know it, moving your body in a swaying motion to the beat of the music.

And for some reason, you let him. Feeling the weight of his ominous words stay heavy on your mind, fixating on a random tile of the floor. You feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, unmoving. For a second, you feel yourself give in. Placing your hands atop his in a hesitant manner—testing out the waters.

And instantly, you’re met with your answer, a nauseating pit forming in your gut. Lip curling into a tiny sneer.

“W-where’s Hana?” You blurt out, pushing his hands away from you and turning around to face him.

There’s a momentary look of shock on his face before he pulls it back down into his usual Cheshire grin, though you can tell it looks more forced than usual this time. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, Hana? She’s still upstairs.”

“And you left her there?” You huff with disbelief, your head shaking. You attempt to side-step past him, but he’s putting an arm around your shoulder before you can go.

“Don’t worry, pretty. I can lead you to her.”

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol clouding your judgment or the lingering discomfort from his presence, but you find yourself stopping. His touch, warm but unnerving, keeps you in place as his arm wraps around you. His grip feels possessive in a way that makes your skin crawl, and for the briefest second, you almost feel trapped.

You glance up at him, his grin too wide, too knowing. There’s something in his eyes—something that doesn’t sit right with you. His words float in your mind like smoke: “The thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you tilt your head toward the stairs, where you know Hana must be waiting. “I think I’ll find her myself,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm, and detached, though your pulse quickens.

Naoya’s eyes glint with something unreadable, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his arm around your shoulder, his touch more possessive than before, making it hard to breathe. “I’m just trying to help, sweetheart. What’s the harm in me escorting you?” His voice is low, almost coaxing like he’s trying to pull you into his orbit.

Before you know it, he’s taking you upstairs. All the while keeping his arm around you. You gulp down the lump in your throat, unsure if you should push him off and let him take you to your friend. Maybe you’re overthinking—overreacting. Once you two are upstairs, he’s walking past the booths. You glance at the booth you were once at, seeing no sight of your friend.

Panic trickles in slowly as he takes you down a small hallway, turning to his right and opening the last door.

You’re taking in everything. Women, men, glasses of alcohol. Some make out and others getting frisky with each other. The room feels even more suffocating than the second floor itself. But your eyes don’t just widen at what the others are doing, but what your friend is doing.

She’s sitting beside some guys you don’t even know, white snowy lines laid out in front of them on the glass table. She’s leaning down, holding a finger to her nostril and just about to partake in the activity when you snatch her up by her arm. “Hana! W-what the hell are you doing?!”

Hana looks up at you, her face slightly flushed and her eyes glazed over, an uncharacteristic haze of confusion settling over her expression as she blinks a few times. The room is full of murmurs, laughter, and the sharp scent of something far stronger than alcohol. For a moment, Hana doesn’t seem to recognize you at all, or perhaps she’s just too far gone to care. The men around her don’t react immediately, their attention is divided between each other and whatever else is happening in the room.

“Hana!” you repeat, voice rising in panic, shaking her arm a little more forcefully. Your grip is tight, and you can feel the tremor in your hand as the weight of the situation starts to sink in.

She blinks again, then her gaze clears just enough to focus on you. “Y/N?” she slurs, a small frown forming as she rubs her nose absentmindedly. “What’s up? I was just… having fun.”

“This isn’t fun, Hana!” You pull her up from her seat, your voice trembling as you yank her away from the men. “This is dangerous—what are you thinking?”

Hana stumbles a little, her movements sluggish, and she doesn’t seem to fully grasp the seriousness of the moment. She laughs softly, her words laced with a slur that makes it hard for you to hear her clearly. “Come on, Y/N, chill out. It’s just a little fun. You’ve been so uptight lately... you need to loosen up, too.”

Your heart races as you glance back at Naoya, still standing in the doorway, his hand resting casually on the frame. His grin is gone, replaced by a coldness that seems to make the room feel even more stifling. You’re left standing there, breath shallow, with Hana still swaying slightly in your grip. You don’t know how long it takes for the fog of confusion to lift from her eyes, but when it does, her face falls.

Your stomach twists, both from the overwhelming sense of protectiveness and the lingering disgust at what she’d been about to do. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You’ve been friends for too long to just let this go. You can’t leave her here like this—not with those people, not in this situation.

You pull her closer, your voice softening. “We’re leaving, Hana. Now.”

A beat of silence hangs between you, and for a moment, you think she might actually listen, but then she looks at you with frustration, and then back at Naoya, who hasn’t moved an inch.

“Why are you always trying to control everything, Y/N?” she snaps, and it feels like a slap to the face. “I’m fine. Just let me do what I want for once.”

It’s the final straw. You can’t stand it anymore. You’re about to pull her out of the room, about to drag her away from this mess, but Naoya steps forward, a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to stop. “Maybe you should let her be, Y/N,” he says, voice calm but his grip tightening on you. “She’s not your responsibility tonight.”

Your anger flares, but your mind is spinning too fast to catch up. You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face, but you know better. You can feel the weight of the situation settling in, and something about being in this room with him, watching everything around you spiral out of control, is making you lose your footing.

And Hana—she’s still there, looking so lost, so far gone.

You feel the pressure of Naoya’s touch on your shoulder, almost like an invisible barrier, stopping you from moving. The walls feel like they’re closing in, the air heavy and thick with tension.

“Did you bring her in here? Did you force her to do things she couldn’t consent to?” You ask, forcing your drunken mess away for just a moment to deal with the situation at hand.

His head tilts in faux innocence. “What? No. She said she wanted to meet my friends so I let her. I said I’d be back in a few minutes, I didn’t know she’d be doing anything like that.”

“But you still left her alone.” You grit.

“So? She’s a grown woman. Besides, she’s not alone.” He gestures to the people inside.

You can feel your heart racing, each word hanging in the air like a heavy weight, suffocating you more than the dense atmosphere of the room. Your chest tightens with anger and concern for your friend. The nerve of him—standing there, acting like he didn’t know what was happening. He knows exactly what’s going on, and now he’s just playing it off like it’s nothing.

“You still left her alone,” you repeat, voice sharper this time, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though every instinct tells you to look away. “If you had any decency at all, you wouldn’t have let her get to this point.”

Naoya shrugs, an almost bored expression on his face, like he’s done this too many times to count and knows exactly how to make people like you back down. “Decency? You want me to babysit her?” His lips curl into that smirk again, the one that sends a chill down your spine. “I’m not her keeper, Y/N. She made her own choices.”

Your hands shake, but you force them to remain steady. You glance at Hana again, who’s swaying, her mind clearly lost in whatever she was about to do, her gaze vacant. The sight makes your stomach churn, the reality of how deep she’s gotten into all this hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Then why did you bring her here?” you ask, struggling to keep your voice from breaking. “Why even let her near this place if you knew what was going on?”

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you might have actually caught him off guard. But then his expression hardens, and the slight tension in his jaw gives way to a shrug. “Because she wanted to be here. She asked to come. I didn’t make her.” His tone is colder now, more dismissive. “You know, Y/N, sometimes people just want to let loose. You can’t control everything. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

You flinch at his words, and that’s when you know—you’re not going to get anything else from him. He’s already too far gone into his own ego, into this sick game he’s playing. But you won’t stop. Not when Hana’s here, not when she’s clearly in over her head.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, putting yourself between Naoya and Hana, your voice unwavering. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Naoya opens his mouth as if to argue, but you don’t give him the chance. You grab Hana’s arm again, more forcefully this time, pulling her away from the table. She resists at first, confused, but your grip is unyielding.

“Come on, Hana. We’re going.” You almost want to shout it, to get her out of there before anything else can happen, but instead, you keep your voice steady, calm, for her.

She blinks at you, her vision blurry. “But... Y/N... I... I’m fine, I just... I just wanted to try it...”

“No, Hana,” you snap, cutting her off before she can finish her sentence. “This is not you. You’re not fine.”

The words hit her hard. You can see it in her eyes—the brief flash of clarity before the fog comes back over them. She sways, but you manage to keep her steady as you drag her out of the room, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people inside.

Naoya doesn’t try to stop you. He stands there, arms crossed, watching you leave with that same smirk plastered across his face.

You can hear him mutter under his breath. And you find that being your final straw again.

You stop in your tracks, holding your friend to your side by her waist. Debating. “Hey.”

He barely has time to look over his shoulder before your fist makes contact with his cheek. He audibly yelps in a feminine manner, instantly holding the injured area. “Ow! W—hey!”

His mouth is agape, eyebrows furrowed and glaring at you with looks to kill. You wring out your fist, glad you wore your favorite ring today. You can’t punch for shit, yet he’s acting like…

“You crazy woman!” He huffs out, the room going silent as he has his breakdown. Rushing over and pushing a couple of women out of the way to cheek his face in the mirror. He sees the red area, and his lip is busted. Whipping his head back over to you. “How dare you?! I’ll fucking sue you for this, you know?”

“Go ahead, I have nothing to give you.” You reply back, turning on your heel and walking out. Footsteps quick from the sheer adrenaline and small amount of fear that he’ll try to grab you from behind. He doesn’t, luckily.

All that matters now is getting Hana out of this hellhole. As you make your way to the exit, you finally feel like you can breathe again. But just barely.

Once you’re outside, the cold air hits your skin, grounding you. Hana stumbles beside you, still out of it, but you’ve done what you came to do. You’ve pulled her from the edge.

But as you both stand there, the reality of what just happened settles in. You’ve confronted Naoya, punched him, and you’ve dragged your friend out of a situation she was too far gone to see. But now, as the adrenaline begins to fade, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not done yet.

You look down at your shaky fist, seeing the red knuckles. “…shit…” you mumble under your breath, chest heaving up and down. You gasp and catch yourself on a light pole when Hana suddenly goes dead weight and almost brings you down to the concrete with her. It takes everything in you to hold her up.

Your vision feels wavy, feeling your feet stumble a bit to the right from your own inebriation before catching yourself mid-haze. “Okay, okay.”

You’re bear-hugging her to your chest, holding your bodies up against the light pole. Breathing in and out heavily, eyes closing as you try to figure out a situation for this all. Your ride, gone. You didn’t even bring money for a taxi. And your friend is passed out drunk. You do a mental checklist of people who can haul you and Hana’s drunk asses back home. Only coming out with two viable options. And one of those is currently watching your son at home.

Leaving only one other person.

Satoru has been lounging around your place for a few hours now, bored out of his mind. He switches from laying on the couch, to rummaging through your cabinets and reading the expiration date on everything, to checking on his son.

He sighs heavily, staring down at the familiar key he had gifted you that lies on the kitchen counter. Untouched. He still hasn’t asked about your confirmation of the place he bought for you two, he figures he can do that tomorrow. But the fact that you haven’t seemed to put much regard into it feels like a small dig to him, his frown deepening. Did you not care for it? Do you not like it? The fact that he went out of his way to buy you and his son a better place to live??

He needs to clear his mind.

Walking over to Koji’s room, peeking in once more, everything is the same. His son still sleeps peacefully, snoring lightly and holding his Spider-Man close to his chest with his blankets thrown over him. The Spider-Man makes Satoru scowl again, forcing his eyes away and to the small hamper in the corner.

He might as well do something productive now.

Carefully, he walks in and grabs the hamper, walking back out with effortless silence. Going over to your washer and dryer, opening the two doors to reveal them. He already sees a full hamper on top of the washer and sighs. “C’mon, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

Flipping the light switch on, he puts both hampers on the ground and it takes him a while to figure out how to work your washer. Afterward, he opens the lid and tosses on Koji’s small load, then yours. He tries not to hold onto your panties and bras for too long, not trying to be a perv. But he’s a man, after all. A man who may still have feelings for his ex.

So when he sees a pair of blue, lace panties, he thinks he might get a hard on right then and there. You creep! He’s holding it in front of his face, admiring the dangling fabric. He’s surprised you still have this. He remembers the…day you got it, after all. Yep, he feels his pants tighten.

The sick, twisted part of him tells him to give the panties a small sniff. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

No, no. That’s disgusting of you, Satoru.

He shakes his head, reminding himself that he can’t do this and that he has a girlfriend. And by the gods above, he quickly tosses it into the washer before he loses control. The rest of your clothes consist of pants, sweats, a jacket, a few shirts, and a….wait.

…what’s this?

Getting to the bottom of your hamper, he comes across a shirt. One that’s too oversized to fit you. One that’s cotton. One that smells faintly like someone else he knows. One that he bought for his best friend two Christmases ago.

Satoru stares at the shirt in his hands, his eyes narrowing as the realization hits him like a cold slap to the face. The fabric feels heavier in his grip than it should, and the faint scent clings to it—the unmistakable scent of someone else. Someone he knows. Someone who's apparently been a part of your life in ways that make him uncomfortable to even consider.

His stomach twists, a mix of anger and confusion flooding his thoughts. The shirt feels like a thread unraveling everything he’s been trying to convince himself of. He knows it’s irrational to feel the way he does, but in that moment, all he can think of is him. His best friend. The one who’s always been there. The one who seems too close to you. His grip tightens around the fabric, his stomach dropping. Gulping hard and forcing himself not to jump to conclusions.

But that’s pretty fucking hard.

Why the fuck do you have Suguru’s shirt? Why is it in your dirty clothes? Did he just put it there? Did he spend the night? Did you and him—

He tosses the shirt back into the hamper with more force than necessary, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. It’s his.

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. What is he supposed to do with this? He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but everything about this feels wrong. He glances over at the pile of clothes—your clothes. He sees everything but that damn shirt. But it's there now, in his mind, looming like a specter.

Satoru grabs the rest of the clothes, hastily tossing them into the washer, but it’s hard to focus. His mind keeps returning to that one question. That one shirt. And the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, there's something he's been missing.

He almost feels like gagging as he closes the two doors and turns the light off, head spinning. He places a hand to his forehead, blinking hard.

His head whips over to the front door when he hears muffled chatter from outside.

“Thank you for coming on short notice,” you mumble in embarrassment, focusing your eyes on your fiddling hands in your lap.

“Don’t thank me, Y/N. I would’ve come either way.” Suguru responds, smiling briefly at you before focusing back on the road.

You’re just dropped Hana off. The trip felt way easier since Suguru opted to carry her in and to her bed, with you grabbing her keys and unlocking her door. When you left, you made sure everything else was locked. He didn’t even question anything, simply doing as you asked.

Of course his gaze is riddled with concern, confusion, and skepticism. You don’t miss the way he keeps looking down at your red knuckles that you hide, but with the way you haven’t mentioned anything about the night, he figures you won’t talk about it.

“How much did you drink? I brought some water, it’s on the door.” He juts his head in your direction.

You glance down and grab the bottle, thanking him as you down it. “Um…just a few drinks. I’m not entirely sober right now, still.”

Suguru nods slowly, not saying anything for a moment as the car hums along the quiet road. He doesn’t push you to talk, but he knows something’s off. You’ve been quieter than usual, and the tension in the air is palpable. He’s been around you long enough to sense when something isn’t right, but he’s trying not to pry—especially when you’re clearly trying to avoid the topic.

When you finish the water, he glances over at you, eyes softening. “I know you’re not ready to talk, Y/N. But you know I’m here, right? If you ever want to—”

You nod quickly, cutting him off, but not in a way that’s dismissive. It’s more like you’re trying to assure him. “I know. Thanks, Suguru.” The words hang between you both, neither of you fully comfortable in the silence. Guilt hits you, so you continue. “I just…tonight didn’t go as planned.”

He nods, stopping at a red light. Finally taking the chance to look at you fully once more. His lips thin in displeasure when he sees your current state. Shivering, flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, hair messy. He sighs and reaches in the backseat and brings out a warm, thick black jacket. Putting it over your shoulders. “Put that on, okay? Keep yourself warm and hydrated.”

Your lips part, but you nod and smile slightly. “…thank you,” you murmur, holding the jacket closer.

“And don’t thank me anymore, okay?” He replies, hints of playfulness in his voice like he’s trying to ease the mood. When the light turns green, the car moves forward again and gets closer to your apartment complex.

You let out a quiet breath, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you as you pull it tighter around your shoulders. The night feels like a blur now, too many conflicting emotions tangled together. Suguru’s steady presence is a welcome relief, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve lost control in some way. Tonight wasn’t just a mess—it was a wake-up call.

As he makes the final turn toward your apartment, you glance at him, still holding the jacket close. His eyes are on the road, but you can tell he’s trying to read you without being too obvious. There’s concern in the way his brows are furrowed, even though he’s doing his best to keep things light.

“I didn’t expect the night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice quieter than before. “I thought it’d just be a fun time with Hana, but… everything kind of spiraled.”

Suguru’s expression softens, though his gaze doesn’t stray from the road. “I know you wanted to have a good time, Y/N. Sometimes things just… happen. Doesn’t mean you can’t recover from it.”

You glance out the window, trying to focus on the passing scenery. The bright lights of the city feel like a distant memory compared to the emotional chaos inside your head. You force your stomach not to start twisting. “I know. It’s just hard. I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this.”

Suguru reaches for the wheel a bit tighter, but his voice is gentle as ever. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone, you know? Not everything is on your shoulders. Let yourself breathe a little.”

You bite your lip. I tried doing that tonight, look where that got me. You stay silent as he finds a space and parks, deciding he’s dealt with enough of your burdens.

“I’ll walk you up,” he mutters, unbuckling and getting out of the car to come to your side. He helps you out wordlessly, closing the door behind you and locking his car.

Your footsteps falter for a moment. “I-is it okay if I lean—”

“Of course,” he cuts you off, holding a steady arm around your waist and allowing you to use him as grounding for your leaning weight. He’s practically leading you, but you have no problem with it. Even as you two enter the elevator, the silence doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, you’re leaning more into him, the side of your head against his chest.

He glances down at the top of your head, pulling you just a tad bit closer and twisting the urge to plant a kiss to your hair. His thumb rubs small, soothing circles around your hip, feeling you lean more and more against him.

The doors open and he’s slowing his movements for you. “Still with me?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and looks forward. “Good, don’t go falling asleep. Get some water in you, maybe some bread.”

You can’t help but softly chuckle. “You know, you’ve been really nice to me, Suguru. Nicer than anyone else.”

Your words are getting quiet and more mumbled—slurred. But he can still faintly piece your words together. You feel the rumble in his chest from his coaxing laugh. “Yeah? I think I’m just acting how any other man would.”

“Not any other man.” You reply.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, getting a tiny idea of who you may be referring to. But he doesn’t want to ruin your night even more by saying his name.

The quiet hum of the building is a comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. You’re not sure how much of your surroundings you’re taking in; your thoughts are still clouded from the night’s events. The warmth of Suguru’s presence, his steady support, makes it easier to keep going. When you reach your door, he stops, giving you the space to find your keys in your pocket. You fumble a little, but Suguru doesn’t rush you. He stands patiently, his thumb still grazing the side of your hip. He’s careful not to crowd you too much, but there’s an undeniable sense of protectiveness in the way he stands close.

Finally, you manage to find your key. You glance up at Suguru, your eyes a little foggy. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiles down at you, the warmth in his expression making your chest tighten a little. “It’s nothing, really. Just doing what’s right.”

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen slightly but his smile softenn. His hand traveling up to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be around when you need me.”

There’s a quiet beat between you two, the silence saying more than words ever could. You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to keep the emotions from overwhelming you. You gently bite your bottom lip, the action causing his eyes to flicker down towards it. “I just…I feel like I haven’t been having anyone on my side lately. I’m…I’m glad I have you.”

His insides practically melt at your soft, drunken tone of voice and the way you’re gazing up at him. Suguru feels his heart shift, warmth pooling in his chest at your vulnerability. He’s never seen you quite like this, so open and raw, and it makes him want to protect you in a way that’s deeper than he expected. The softness in your voice, the way you lean into him—it all pulls him in closer, making his resolve weaken just a bit. He swallows hard, stepping a little closer to you, but trying to keep his distance, knowing that you’re vulnerable right now, not fully in control of your emotions.

“Y/N,” he says gently, his voice low but steady. He reaches for your hands, lifting them from where you were gripping the door, and holds them softly in his. “I'm not the only one, I promise. But I’m always going to have your back. You never have to feel alone, okay? We all go through tough times, but you’re not carrying it on your own.”

You nod slowly, eyes glimmering with a mix of gratitude and something else he can’t quite place. Your fingers curl around his as if you’re grounding yourself in his touch, a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty.

“You’re not like the others, Suguru,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… safe.”

The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning. Suguru’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not from concern or pity—it’s from something else. Something warm, something that feels a little dangerous, but right. He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing, as he registers the way you’re looking at him.

“You’re safe with me,” he says softly, his voice almost a promise. “You always will be.”

You both stand there in the quiet, the weight of everything between you—everything unsaid—lingering. Suguru’s hand reaches up, brushing your hair away from your face again, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary, like he’s trying to convey something in that simple touch.

You blink, breaking the moment just enough to step back. “I should go inside.”

Suguru nods, not forcing anything further. He understands. “Yeah, go get some rest. Drink that water, and don’t forget about the bread.”

You tiredly smile, looking back at your door and putting the key in its hole. But, you find yourself hesitating. Movements stilling as thoughts overwhelmed your already vulnerable brain. You’re looking back at him before you know it.

His eyebrows raise. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head in response, your heart beating faster. He says nothing, just allowing the little staring contest to continue on. For some reason, it’s making you not want to face your reality. God, it’s the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing to him. How stuck he feels, how guilty he feels and how perfect it all feels at the same time. It’s almost not fair.

Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve experienced more shit than you would’ve wanted to tonight—and of course, you’re a lightweight. Hence why you don’t really like drinking in the first place. But you’ve needed one recently.

So yeah, your balance is not very steady, your head feels light but heavy at the same time, your lips are curved up into a smile on their own and your calculations are a little miscalculated.

Because you could swear that with the way he’s looking at you now, his lids the slightest bit hooded that one could miss it, his tilted head, and the way he’s leaned in close enough that you can smell his intoxicating cologne…he’s looking tempted.

And to be honest, so are you.

The night air is suddenly quiet, you’ve been staring into his eyes for who knows how long now and your breathing feels shallower. It feels like a sappy romance movie you watched when you were a tween and wished upon a star that one day it would happen to you. Except it’s not the person you would’ve exactly wanted. But your body is still reacting all the same.

What does that mean for you?

Your key is still lodged in the hole of your door, seemingly frozen—but awaiting. He leans in and your eyelids flutter. “I’m sorry.”

“F-for what…?”

“For being such a selfish man right now.” He places a steady hand to your waist as your body swayed backwards again.

It’s just the alcohol talking. “I-it’s okay…”

“Is it?” He mutters, breath fanning your face.

This time, you lean closer, practically moving up to your tip-toes. You notice the way his eyes have darkened, glancing down at your pink, parted lips. “Yeah, I think…I want to be selfish too.”

He smiles, matching your drunken one. Your right hand raises to his cheek, admiring the heat that wavers off of it. You think you want more of his magnetic heat. He doesn’t move, allowing you to do the work. Maneuvering your head up to close the rest of the distance. And you’re so close, so very close that you could practically lick his lips if you wanted.

His lips part, making space for your own to slot between them. Just when you’re about to—

Your door yanks open from the inside, jolting you back to reality. Eyes wide and looking over at the culprit.

Oh, fuck.

Satoru stands in your doorway, hair poking up at all different angles, jaw clenched and saccharine eyes darting around at the sight in front of him, of what he just interrupted. And it feels like you’ve just been burned, pulling back and away from Suguru like you’ve been caught cheating. Suguru matches your actions, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “S-Satoru…” you mutter, swallowing.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking between you and his best friend. “He brought you home?”

“I—”

“She called me to pick her and her friend up, Satoru.” Suguru interrupts, meeting his friend with undeterred eye contact.

However, that seems to be just the icing on top for Satoru. Turning his gaze towards you, looking up and down quickly. “…So…I’m watching our son while you go ahead and get yourself shitfaced, you’re gone for hours without any call or text to let me know you’re okay, and when you come back… you’re about to…kiss my fucking best friend?”

“Sato—”

“Shut the fuck up, Suguru.” He gives his friend a death glare, taking a step outside and forcing you to take a wobbly one back. Suguru doesn’t move. “Tell me, huh. You think I’m an idiot?”

“Satoru,” you reach out for his arm, but promptly pull back when he looks back at you.

“And to think,” he scoffs, regarding you with an icy coldness that feels completely foreign to you. “I thought we had it okay for once. And now you’re fucking my best friend behind my back?”

“No! N-no, Suguru and I aren’t doing that.” You quickly protest.

He simply scoffs and Suguru steps back in between you two. “Satoru, calm down, okay? We weren’t doing anything. Y/N’s been having a tough time and I’m just here to help her through that.”

“By what? Forcing yourself into her life? Into my son’s life? Who the hell do you think you are, Suguru?” He pushes the other man by his shoulder, to which Suguru does not fight back.

You grimace, pulling back on his shirt. “Satoru, stop it, please. We aren’t doing anything like that.”

“Bullshit!” He snaps, throwing his arms up. “He gives you and Koji a present. I find his fucking shirt in your hamper, and now I just caught you two about to kiss. Did you fucking forget I was inside? Were you going to bring him inside and let him fuck you?”

Your mouth is agape, eyes blown wide at the accusations. The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and unable to form a coherent thought. Satoru’s accusations sting, each one harsher than the last. His anger is palpable, the venom in his voice making it hard to breathe, and yet all you can do is stand there in stunned silence, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on you.

“No... Satoru, I—I didn’t—” You struggle to find the words, but nothing seems to come out right. How do you explain something that’s so far from the truth but also so complicated in its own way?

Suguru, his expression tight with frustration, steps forward, clearly trying to keep the situation from spiraling even further. "Satoru, this isn’t the way to handle it. Y/N’s been through a lot, and I'm just trying to be there for her. That’s all it is."

“You think that makes a difference?” Satoru spits, turning back to Suguru with a glare that could burn. “You think you can just waltz in, playing hero, and it’s all fine? You don’t get to play the martyr here. Not with my family.”

You flinch at the mention of Koji, feeling the sting of his words even more sharply now. "Satoru, please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Don’t talk about him like that. You know I would never—"

But Satoru cuts you off with a sharp gesture, his eyes dark with fury. "No, you don’t get to explain yourself anymore. I saw it. I know what was happening."

Your heart races as the silence hangs heavy between you, Suguru and Satoru locked in a tense standoff. You can feel the weight of the accusations pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you manage, the words coming out in a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing was going to happen. Nothing. I just... I didn’t know what else to do.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches. Suguru looks between you both, his eyes softening just a fraction, but there’s nothing left to say. You’re standing at the edge of everything, and you don’t know how to fix this, how to make Satoru believe you.

“Satoru, Y/N’a a grown woman.” Suguru says.

“Yeah? And what, that makes you a grown man?”

Once more, Suguru is pushed by Satoru. You can see the growing irritability in Suguru’s expression, the way he’s doing his best to not give in and fight with his best friend. You’re torn, unsure of how you can stop this. Sure, you punched a man today, but he was a bitch. That doesn’t mean you can stop a possible fight between two other men. “Please, don’t raise your voice, Satoru. I don’t want to wake Koji.”

“Oh, now you fucking care?” He huffs out. And that sentence alone puts a halt to you. Your mind momentarily freezes, going silent. He almost looks like he regrets the words as soon as they’re uttered, but it’s drowned out by his look of anger.

Soon…you’re mirroring his fury.

“What?” You quietly ask, letting out a deep huff. “What? What the fuck did you just say to me?”

This time, it’s you who pushes the pusher. He stumbles back barely, caught off guard by your suddenness before he’s planting himself in place. “Don’t touch me, Y/N.”

“Then don’t you ever say something like that! I’ve done everything I could for Koji and more. You had no idea what kind of shit I went through alone.” You grit out.

“Because of you! Because of your own stupid decision to not let me in, let me help you!” He argues back. He's right. He's always right. And that’s why you two could never work together because while Satoru was always right, you were always wrong. They say opposites attract, when actually, opposites do nothing prove what the other could never be.

And after the events of tonight, you’re growing tired of holding back your explosion. Your drunken brain is telling you to fight fire with fire.

“Because you were a fucking shitty person!” You shout back, aware of the fact that your loud voice may cause some of your neighbors to wake up. Koji to wake up. “And now you’re getting mad at me for trying to move on? For trying to live my life? Fuck you! You have a fucking girlfriend who treats me like shit and you let it happen!”

“You want to play that game, Y/N? Really?” Satoru replies, a dead firmness in his tone.

Before you can respond, Suguru, ever the peacemaker, is cutting in again. “Y/N, stop it, okay? Go inside, you’re drunk. Satoru, don’t—”

He’s cut off by another push from Satoru. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Suguru. You’re trying to get with my ex behind my back, is that how low you’ve become?”

“Satoru,” he slowly exhales out, trying to calm himself. “I’m not doing that. Y/N and I aren’t getting together. I’m just being here for her.”

“By trying to get in bed with her?”

Suguru has begun to have enough. “Stop speaking like that, Satoru.” He gruffs out.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, and your pulse races as Satoru’s words hit harder than before, each one a slap in the face. You can feel the anger bubbling up inside you, pushing you past the point of control, past the point of regret. This argument feels like it’s never going to end—like it’s been building for years, simmering beneath the surface, only now it’s boiling over in a mess of accusations and past hurts.

Satoru’s sneer deepens as he stares you down. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? I’m not stupid, Y/N. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes now. You think you’re going to move on with him after everything?”

You step closer to him, barely noticing the way your hands are trembling, your heart pounding in your chest and tears prickling at your eyes. “I’m not moving on with anyone. Not like you think. But you—” You pause, trying to steady your breath. “You’ve had no idea what I’ve been through. You’ve walked away at times when I needed you the most, Satoru. Don’t fucking act like I owe you anything now.”

Satoru’s expression darkens, his hands balling into fists, but you don’t flinch. “I’m sorry if you think I don’t care, but I’ve been in the fucking trenches with you, Y/N. Do you think it was easy for me too? To watch you shut me out? To watch you fucking struggle with everything while I—while I—tried to be there for you? But I was never enough, was I?” His voice cracks with a mix of frustration and disbelief, but it’s too much. It’s too late for apologies and explanations. You feel your vision blur with tears, and for a brief moment, you almost crumble under the weight of the argument, the hurt, the feeling of being misunderstood.

“You knew you could’ve tried hard enough. You knew that, you know that.” You argue, despite your shaky voice.

His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Suguru steps forward, intervening again, his voice low and firm, but there’s a warning in it. “Enough, Satoru. You’re not hearing her. This isn’t about you anymore.”

Satoru’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tight with frustration. “It’s always been about me, Suguru. It’s always been about what I need, what I want. And now you want to play the hero? To take my place in my own fucking life?”

Suguru shakes his head, his expression hardening. “No, I’m not trying to take your place. But you’re blind if you don’t see how much she’s suffered. How much she’s going through. And how much you’re still hurting her by dragging all this up now.”

“Shut up,” Satoru snaps, and his voice is harsh enough to make you flinch. “I don’t need a lecture from you, not now.”

Suguru doesn’t back down, his eyes never leaving Satoru’s. “Then maybe you should take a fucking look at yourself first.”

For a moment, the three of you stand there in silence, the tension thick enough to slice through. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning with a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. The words you’ve been holding back for so long feel too much to bear, too raw to say out loud, but now they’re there, sitting on your tongue, threatening to spill.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of everything is overwhelming. Your hands tremble as you press them against your sides, eyes focusing on the ground to keep from breaking down. But the words, the truth you’ve been holding inside for so long, feel like they’re going to suffocate you if you don’t let them out.

“I didn’t mean for this, Satoru. I didn’t mean for any of it,” you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. Your chest tightens, your breath shaky as you look at him, the tears threatening to fall. “But now you’re standing here, making it worse, blaming me for everything. I’m always getting blamed, no matter what. For trying to find happiness. For surviving.” You swallow hard, your voice quieter but still filled with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “But you don’t get to make me feel bad about trying to heal, Satoru. You don’t get to make me feel like I’m the one who ruined everything when you were the one who stopped trying.”

Suguru’s gaze flickers to you, a flicker of concern flashing across his face, but it’s Satoru who you focus on. The silence stretches, suffocating, before he speaks again, his tone hard, bitter, but with a hint of something deeper—something vulnerable. “I never wanted to leave you,” he mutters, almost too quietly. “But you shut me out. You kept pushing me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t try hard enough to matter,” you shoot back, your voice a little stronger now. “You didn’t try to understand. You didn’t try to see me. You only saw what you wanted, what fit into your world. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t just keep being this thing that existed to meet your needs, while I fell apart. I couldn’t.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, you swear you see something break in him. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appears, replaced by the cold, hardened exterior he’s been wearing for so long. “You think this is easy for me?” he spits, voice laced with something that could be self-loathing. “You think it’s easy watching you—watching him—take over everything I thought was mine? That’s not fair either, Y/N.”

“You don’t own me, Satoru,” you whisper, the words coming out stronger than you expect. “You never did.”

Suguru steps forward again, his voice steady but firm. “Enough. This isn’t going anywhere. It’s just going to keep hurting both of you.”

But Satoru isn’t listening. His fists clench again, his jaw tight as he shakes his head, the hurt flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I ever could.”

The rawness in his voice catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. The anger and resentment still burn in your chest, but beneath it all, you realize that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left. Something that isn’t as broken as you thought.

But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for him.

With a shaky breath, you look away, your heart heavy in your chest, and turn toward the door. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Satoru. It’s done.”

Suguru’s hand rests gently on your shoulder as you walk past, his silent support a comfort, even though the pain doesn’t fade. And Satoru stays there, his fists trembling at his sides, caught between regret and anger, as you step back into your home and shut the door behind you.

The tears overcoming your being once you’re locked inside, taking the jackets off haphazardly and tossing your purse onto the sofa. Holding a hand to your mouth to muffle your cries as you walk past Koji’s door and to your own room, silently shutting and locking it.

You crumble into your bed, holding your pillow close, and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Letting your warm tears wash your makeup away and stain your white pillow. Feeling your body trembling from every sensation flowing through it right now. You feel your heart pick up way too fast for your liking and you’re almost sure you’re breathing at an erratic pace right now.

You feel like no matter what, you can never do good in your life. You fucked up tonight by trying to kiss Suguru, you fucked up by keeping Koji a secret, you fucked up by even going out in the first place.

Everything is crumbling down at you all at once and you think it’s about time you toss the rag in. Because everyone has their breaking point, you’re not sure if you hit yours yet, but it damn well feels like you have. And now you’ve probably broken up a years long friendship due to your own selfishness, to your own stupid intoxication. You’re wrong in every aspect. Everything is eating you alive right now, leaving just a hollow suit in its place.

You wonder how things will look going forward.

And you wonder if you’ve ruined any little chance at possibly having Satoru in your grasp again.

A small knock pulls your attention, shifting your eyes open and looking over to the small head that peeks through. Oh god, this is the last thing you wanted.

“Mama…” Koji’s small voice utters, slipping inside and coming over to your curled up form on the bed. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

You wish you had it in you to put on a poker face and dry your tears, giving him the usual lie. But tonight, you can’t. “…mama’s sad.” You whisper.

His eyes widen, lip quivering down into a pout. Eyes glistening with his own onset of tears and he’s diving into your bed, scrambling up to your chest. Wrapping his tiny arms around your neck in such a fast way that it leaves you momentarily speechless. When he looks at you, you almost feel yourself wanting to cry harder at the sole fact that your son is seeing you like this, that he’s almost crying now too. “Please don’t cry, Mama. I don’t like you being sad.”

“I…I know.” You croak out, holding him close. “I know, Koji. And I’m…I’m so sorry. I can’t be strong today.”

He shakes his head furiously. “It’s okay! Because Papa told me that when I grow up, I’ll protect you. I’ll be strong and big like him. So…so maybe I can be strong today for you, Mama.”

Your heart shatters at his words, and despite the weight of everything that’s been crushing you, you hold him even tighter. The fragile little boy who’s trying so desperately to comfort you when he should be the one you’re protecting—it’s too much. You can’t hold back the flood of emotions anymore. You pull him into you, your arms trembling, but all you can do is let him in, letting his warmth and innocence wrap around your heart like a fragile balm.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to be strong for me. You’re so strong already just by being you.” You bury your face in his hair, feeling his small body pressing against yours, his little heartbeat steady and comforting in a way nothing else can be. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this, Koji. I promise I’ll be okay.”

Koji’s small hands rub at your back, and his voice, though still a little quivery, carries the same hope and determination he always carries. “I’m gonna help you, Mama. I’ll make you smile again, okay? I promise.” His words, simple as they are, strike a chord deep inside, reminding you of everything you’ve fought for. You’ve fought to protect him, to give him a better life, to shield him from all the pain and hurt that came with being tied to Satoru, and now you’re breaking down in front of him. It feels so pathetic.

But maybe you need to be broken in order to rebuild. Maybe it’s okay to let him see your fragility, so he knows it’s okay to feel and not bottle everything up.

You breathe out a shaky laugh, lifting him slightly to kiss his forehead. “You’re my little hero, Koji. I’m so proud of you. I don’t deserve you.”

Koji, however, just shakes his head again, his small face scrunching up in determination. “No, Mama. I’m not a hero. You’re my hero. You always are.”

And somehow, in the midst of the mess you’ve found yourself in, his innocent words are the only thing grounding you. You’re not alone. You’re not broken beyond repair. You still have him. You still have him to fight for, to love, and to protect.

And right now, that’s all that matters.

You hold him close, sinking deeper into your bed, feeling his small body curl up against you. The weight of the world still feels heavy on your shoulders, but for a brief moment, with Koji’s warmth surrounding you, you feel the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe you’ll figure things out.

But for now, you let yourself cry. You let yourself grieve. Because tomorrow is another day.

a/n: soo many things happeneddddd. hoped u all enjoyed :)

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writeriguess · 1 month ago

Note

can i request a bakugou x reader. the reader is in a relationship with him for a few months now. they just never told anyone about it. their friends (bakusquad) are surprised when they suddenly cuddle up during movie night.

Close Quarters and Closer Hearts

The living room hums with the comforting buzz of conversation and the scent of freshly popped popcorn. The Bakusquad lounges around, the flickering glow of the TV casting soft shadows over everyone’s faces. Kaminari’s sprawled out on the floor, a bowl of popcorn perched dangerously on his chest. Mina has claimed the comfiest corner of the couch, curled up with a blanket, while Sero and Kirishima share the remaining cushions, elbows already digging into ribs over the best seat.

You’re hovering awkwardly near the doorway, trying to decide the best place to sit. When your eyes meet Bakugou’s, he arches a brow, lips twitching in a smirk. He’s settled himself at the end of the couch, legs spread in that relaxed but commanding posture. He jerks his chin, wordlessly beckoning you over.

“Oi, finally done loitering?” he grumbles when you hesitate. “Get over here.”

The others are too caught up in a debate about which horror movie to watch—Mina votes for something gory, Kaminari wants comedy—to notice as you cross the room. Your heart races as you sink down beside him. You keep a polite distance at first, until his arm slides around your shoulders, tugging you against his side.

Your pulse jumps, but Bakugou just scoffs. “What, you scared or something?”

You give him a playful glare, cheeks warming. “No, just didn’t know you were so clingy.”

“Shut up.” He squeezes your shoulder and mutters, “You’re the clingy one.”

The couch creaks as the others pile on. Kaminari flops down on the floor at your feet, groaning dramatically. “If I die of boredom, it’s Mina’s fault. Just saying.”

She sticks her tongue out. “You have the attention span of a goldfish.”

“I do not—oh hey, snacks!” He reaches for the popcorn but gets smacked away by Mina’s foot.

The banter continues, but you can’t focus. Bakugou’s arm is still draped casually over your shoulders, his thumb tracing light patterns. It’s subtle, but it feels incredibly intimate. You’re hyper-aware of every breath he takes, the warmth radiating from his body.

It’s not until the movie starts—a classic slasher—that Mina glances over, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a second.”

You freeze, but Bakugou only sighs, muttering, “Great.”

Mina’s eyes bounce from you to him and back again. “Are you two... cuddling?”

The room falls silent. Kaminari’s head whips around so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. Kirishima’s brows shoot up. Sero’s eyes widen.

“No way,” Kaminari blurts out, gaping. “You’re dating Bakugou?”

Your cheeks flame, but Bakugou just clicks his tongue. “No shit, dunce face.”

Kirishima’s mouth drops open before he grins wide. “Bro, when did this happen?”

“A few months ago,” you admit, fidgeting under the sudden scrutiny.

“A few months?” Mina yelps. “And you didn’t tell us?!”

“Would you have believed me?” you counter.

Kaminari snorts. “Uh, no. You’d have to show me proof—like, make out or something.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Keep talking, and you’ll eat a fist.”

“Jeez, okay, chill!” Kaminari laughs, unfazed. “Just saying, I would’ve bet money you’d stay single forever.”

Bakugou smirks. “Guess you’d be broke, idiot.”

Mina’s outrage shifts into a smirk of her own. “Okay, but like... how did this even start?”

“We just clicked,” you say.

Bakugou scoffs. “Took you forever to admit you liked me.”

“Oh, please,” you shoot back. “You were the one dragging me out on ‘not-dates’ every week.”

Kirishima laughs. “Man, you really have a type. Explosive and stubborn.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You done interrogating us?”

“Never,” Mina singsongs, but she relents. The conversation shifts back to the movie, but the teasing glances continue.

Eventually, Bakugou pulls you closer, his hand warm on your shoulder. “Ignore ‘em,” he mutters. “You’re mine, not theirs.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “Oh, possessive now?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, lips twitching. But he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you.

The movie plays on, forgotten as the Bakusquad starts bickering about plot holes. You’re nestled against Bakugou’s side, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your arm. And despite the teasing and gawking, you can’t help but feel incredibly lucky.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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science-hoes · 27 days ago

Text

Gorgeous

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: language, objectifying an old man, the slightest mention of smut, this was very self indulgent so I do apologize if y’all don’t care for it

Description: Robby loses in fantasy football and pays up. Somehow, his loss is making your life a lot more difficult.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—

There weren’t many times that the night and day shift united aside from real emergencies. Well, depending on who you asked, this was a real emergency.

“Where is he?” Shen murmured, holding onto his backpack, wearily leaning against the high counter of the desk hub.

Jack checked his watch. “He’s got about three minutes before I show up at his house after work and finish the job myself. And I won’t do a good job.” He threatened.

There was a thrill in the room, similar to the countdown to Near Years. Except that was a few weeks ago. Dana crossed her arms. “Do you think we can sedate him and do it? Technically, he already gave prior consent when the season started.” She noted.

Mel walked up to the mass of nurses and doctors starting at the entrance to the Pitt, slowing her pace at the oddity. “What’s going on?” She asked.

Langdon waved her over, and she happily met him next to a computer station. “Our fantasy football season ended a few weeks ago. It’s time for the Loser to pay up.” He explained.

Mel tilted her head. “Pay up? Is everyone here waiting for money?” She asked.

Santos shook her head. “No. This is better than money.” She replied.

“Priceless.” Collins chipped in.

You weren’t aware of the barricade of healthcare providers protecting the desk hub as you walked through the entrance of the Pitt. When the doors swung open to reveal you, bundled in your pink winter coat, everyone let out a disappointed groan.

You froze in your tracks, offended by the greeting. “Good morning to everyone, too.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Dana shook her head and threw an arm around your shoulders. “No, sweetie, it’s not you. We’re waiting for the Loser.” She explained.

You smiled slightly, not sure what she was talking about. “Who’s the Loser?” You asked.

Ellis grinned and pointed to the door as it swung open. “Him.”

Robby walked through the entrance, wrapped in his black winter coat, backpack slung over his shoulders, and his camping gaiter covering the upper half of his face. Only his dark chocolate eyes and swooping faux hawk were visible.

Jack shook his head. “Oh, fuck no. Take that shit off your face.” He demanded.

Everyone made similar remarks, commanding Robby to pull off the face cover.

Robby rolled his eyes and reached a hand to the edge of the fabric near his cheek. “Before I do this, just know that I hate every single one of you.” He grumbled.

But he still hesitated. Chants of “take it off” began, starting with Langdon and progressing through the rest of the staff. You watched intently, curious what the big deal was.

With a final sigh of defeat, Robby yanked the gaiter down. The Pitt erupted with screams, laughter, and cheers. But you were frozen. There he was. Your senior attending whom you had an unbearable crush on. Who you took months to get used to without embarrassing yourself or showing your intense attraction. Who you thought about when you were alone at night.

Clean-shaven. Not a trace of the forest of facial hair that was there yesterday. Moments ago, with his face covered, you knew exactly who he was. But now? He looked like a stranger.

“I can’t tell if you look older or younger.” Shen managed to say in between waves of laughter.

Robby’s mouth pulled into a straight line, a movement once concealed behind facial hair now overexpressed. “I don’t want anyone ever saying I’m no good on my bets.” He demanded.

Jack cackled as he made his way towards Robby to pat him on the shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve seen your jaw line in 20 years, brother.” He noted.

And, oh my God, you swear Robby had a pout on his face as his friends harassed him. That straight line turned downward into a real frown. There were only a few people who actually had a downward frown, and apparently, he was one of them.

Dana had tears in her eyes from laughter. She wiped a stray one from the corner of her eye. “I haven’t seen this man since Hurricane Katrina.” She recalled.

Langdon’s eyes were just blown wide in horror. “It feels inappropriate to look at him. It’s like he’s naked.” His voice was monotone.

Your eyes were riveted on Robby. His eyes were distant, taking the punches as they came. It was better to get it all out of the way before the shift started. His face was turning red with… embarrassment? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but the color change was way more obvious without his peppered beard to hide most of his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grumbled, taking a step to the lockers.

But when everyone whipped out their phones and followed his advice, blocking his escape to the doctors lounge, he threw his head back in exasperation.

“If any of these pictures end up on social media, so help me God.” He hissed.

—

Your shift got off to a great start, but your positive streak could not last in the eyes of the emergency department gods. After a couple of pleasant, simple patient cases, you were assigned to Myrna. There was no issue at first. You took her patient history and evaluated her vitals. She had been brought in after a seizure and, of course, consuming an unknown cocktail of drugs. Same as usual.

“Alright, Myrna. Let me get an IV in you.” You mumbled, sorting the IV supplies on a metal tray.

Myrna groaned in a dramatic fashion, slumping in her wheelchair. “Great, let the fucking intern do it.” She mourned to nobody in particular.

You rolled your eyes as you tightened the blue elastic tourniquet on her arm, hoping that you would be able to find a vein in her used arms.

“I’ve started an IV on you before.” You mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “And it took you five fucking sticks.” She hissed.

You shrugged. “If you stopped shooting up drugs, I wouldn’t have such a hard time finding a vein.” You replied with as much kindness as you could muster.

She laughed, throwing her head back against the wheelchair. “You’re a spicy one.” She complimented. “Consider me a teaching opportunity. That’s what Fruitcake calls me, anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow as you cleaned a poor excuse of a vein on her forearm with an alcohol wipe. “Fruitcake?” You questioned.

“You know who I mean. The tall one with the beard and-YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Myrna recoiled when you slid the tapered IV needle into her skin, grabbing the metal tray and hurling it at you.

“Jesus, Myrna!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms up to protect yourself from the airborne IV supplies.

The metal tray fell to the floor with a loud clang. In a flash, Dana and Robby were by your side to help you.

“You’re supposed to tell me when you’re gonna stick!” Myrna defended herself.

Robby pushed you behind him defensively as he got closer to Myrna. “What did I tell you about harassing my interns?” He questioned, a sternness in his voice that made even you shiver.

Myrna didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Robby. “Holy shit. Is that you, Fruitcake?” She asked.

Dana began to pick up the supplies that landed on the floor. “Myrna, don’t throw shit. Or we’ll throw you out.” She warned.

Myrna waved her off and returned her attention to Robby. “Looks like you didn’t finish baking.” She teased.

“Thanks.” Robby deadpanned as he turned around to look at you.

Despite Myrna being handcuffed, you were still a little shaken by the incident. His lips pulled into a wide line on his face, his upper lip flattening. Usually, he would just ask if you were okay, to which you would say yes, and that would be that. But instead, he placed a guiding hand on your back and took you to an empty room. When the door shut behind him, he faced you, arms crossed over his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

“When you have a hostile patient like that, you need to ask for help, okay?” He lectured.

The way his lips moved when he spoke was enchanting. His bottom lip thicker than the top, shaping every word with precision that you hadn’t noticed before. Like maybe you had assumed that he had been cutting corners when he spoke with his beard. The freckles that dusted his nose seemed to reach farther down his cheeks than you realized. And the way his zygomatic arches at his cheeks looked like they were sculpted by Michelangelo himself…

Fuck, you had to look away. He was so gorgeous. There was no reason that a man nearly twice your age should have that effect on you. You scolded yourself internally for being so mesmerized by him, but then you wondered how that smooth face would feel between your…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your eyes widened, and your cheeks surely flushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Then look at me.” He demanded, voice tinged with authority.

Fuck. You hesitated, deciding if hiding your crush was worth the reprimand you would receive. Your eyes were focused on your hands, anxiously picking at the cuticles.

“I will not tell you again.” Robby’s voice was sharper now, threatening almost.

You clenched your eyes shut and buried your face in your hands. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I can’t look at you.” You confessed.

A silent beat. “Why?”

A disgruntled breath left your lungs. “Because you shaved.”

An awkward silence followed. That wasn’t exactly the response he expected, but Robby matched your irritated exhale. “Look, I know it looks bad. That’s why I don’t shave. But that’s no reason-“

You snapped your head up, eyes blown wide. “No, no! It looks good! It looks too good.” You cut him off.

Robby froze, and the annoyed face that you were initially met with began to soften. His slackened jaw relaxed, and his lips twitched at the edges. “Too good?” He repeated.

You felt your stomach jump to your throat as you realized the trap you had set for yourself. Tell your boss that he’s hot or that you were lying to get out of a lecture? Either path seemed like a dead end. Where you might actually end up dead regardless of the decision. “It’s just that…you look like a different person.” You confessed.

His lips were pulled into that long, straight line that you had seen this morning. Beginning to turn down in a real frown. “…so I looked bad before?” He concluded.

You groaned in frustration, tossing your head back, clenching your eyes shut. “Oh, gosh, Robby. You’re a very handsome man, and it was already hard for me to look at you without becoming a mess. I used to think, ‘it’s a good thing he has a beard because there’s no way he would look good clean-shaven.’ Then you come in, all baby-faced, and it’s like I relapsed on fucking heroin.” Your word vomit was too much to clean up now.

When you didn’t hear any words, a disappointed sigh, or even the characteristic sound of his short nails scratching his neck, you thought he had left the room to avoid an awkward conversation that involved telling his resident that he did not find her attractive. So you opened your eyes, expecting no trace of your attending, but there he was.

Smiling.

Smiling at you.

And you felt an unexpected weakness in your knees. It was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Not a grin, but certainly the last line of defense. His lips pulled impossibly wide on his face, his cheeks folding into smile lines to make room. Those lines framed his mouth like priceless artwork.

You felt self-conscious now. He must have been amused at your naivety. You definitely weren’t the first resident to obsess over that man. “Why are you smiling?” You questioned defensively.

Robby let out a chuckle that evaporated the stress in your mind. “I have a pretty young girl telling me that I look handsome. How can I not smile?”

Oh.

You closed the distance between the two of you. Your hands found purchase on his chest, which puffed out at the touch. “Pretty young?” You questioned, a playfulness in your eyes. “Or pretty and young?”

Robby reached for one of your hands on his chest, wrapping it in his own. “Pretty and young.” He confirmed. And this time, he showed off those pretty teeth, imperfect in all the right ways, the smile lines stretching almost all the way back to his ears.

Your free hand lifted, and your fingers hovered in front of his face as if they were not a part of your own body, like his smooth jawline was a magnet. Despite your bravery to touch his chest, you found yourself shying away now. “I’m- I’m sorry.” You stuttered, retracting your hand.

But Robby snatched your wrist with a firm gentleness. Slowly, he brought it closer to his face again, inviting you to touch. Your index finger grazed the contour of his cheekbone, met with not a hint of friction. His breath staggered, and you caught him fluttering his eyes at your electric touch. Like you were inching into a freezing pool of water, you cautiously added more of your hand to grace his skin.

“You’re so pretty.” You whispered.

Robby sputtered out a sheepish laugh, his lips stretching into that boyish grin that deepened every line on his aging face. “Pretty?” He repeated.

You nodded, now palming his jaw. Years ago, you were sure, it was probably cut sharp, but now the elasticity of his skin made it more mature and soft. “I’ve seen that picture of you. From the 90s. The one in the hallway. You looked like a TV show heartthrob.” You noted. “I could never convince myself that it was you, but now I can.”

His face continued to redden, the heat seeping all the way to the tips of his ears. There was no way to hide his blushing now. His head turned slightly in your grasp, his lips brushing against your palm, parting slightly as they dragged. Your thumb traced his lips and dragged his thick bottom lip, rolling it down slightly to expose his teeth. He let out the softest moan, almost a whimper. Your eyes locked with his, and the desperation was palpable.

“I feel like I’m cheating on my crush.” You finally admitted, letting your thumb linger on his mouth.

Robby’s lips pulled to one side in a half smile, but it looked almost like a full blown smile compared to what you were used to seeing behind his beard. “I’m your crush?” He questioned, like he was waiting to see if you had also lost a bet.

You laughed at the ridiculous question and looked up at the fluorescent lights. “I’m struggling to hold your eye contact right now because you’re so fucking gorgeous.” You replied.

Those ceiling lights blinded you from what came next. You could only see Robby’s hairline, but then you felt the warmth on your mouth. From his mouth. Maybe you didn’t register it at first because in all of your fantasies, you expected his kiss to be rough with scratches from his dense beard. Your tongue would graze the facial hair around his lips, burning your chin as he moved.

But this kiss felt so clean. So raw. So…exposed. Like insulation from a wire had been pulled away, leaving nothing but the full power of his mouth. You raised your free hand to his face now, seeking proof that the other side was just as smooth and soft. One of his arms snaked around your waist, and his free hand latched onto the back of your scalp.

Feeling emboldened by the returned affections, you moved your lips away from his and kissed the hollow of his cheeks, trailing down to his jaw. Robby shuddered at the sensation, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth.

You giggled as you continued to worship his face with hot, open-mouth kisses. “You okay?” You teased.

He chuckled, but it was a higher pitch than you were used to hearing. “I haven’t…” He stuttered as you added more kisses to the underside of his chin, crossing to the other side of his face. “Nobody’s…” He struggled to find the right words as your soft, wet lips dragged across his skin. “You’re the first person in 20 years to kiss the skin on my lower face.” He finally managed to say.

You sucked gently at the angle of his mandible, savoring the taste of his elastic skin on your tongue, releasing soon after to protect him from a damning mark. “I’m honored.” You replied with a gentle tease.

Robby grabbed your face to hold you still, and you let out a bratty whimper of frustration that he had stopped your expedition. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip in thought. “We have to get back to work.” He reminded you, but the authority in his voice was dwindling.

Your eyebrows drew together in disappointment, but you could see in the way his lips were just slightly curved up that he didn’t want to leave you. You could read him before, but now he was as transparent as water.

“Okay.” You sighed dramatically and began to pull away from his grasp. “Guess I’ll just finish out my shift and head home. Alone.”

You turned away from Robby, but before you did, you saw him bite his bottom lip, anxious that he had just fucked everything up. His hands had grasped for your body, a little too late, and you were out of his reach. Hook, line, and sinker. Then you turned your head over your shoulder, just enough to meet his overly wide brown eyes, and smirked.

“Unless you wanna come along?” You added in a sing-songy lilt.

Robby’s face changed in an instant, breaking into that wide smile that you were becoming quickly addicted to. The kind of smile that could stop people dead on a sidewalk when he passed by. The kind of smile that people wrote songs about. The kind of smile that could light up a room in a hurricane.

And it was all for you.

“I’ll see you after work.” You confirmed for him.

Robby chuckled, a look of disbelief at your audacity washing over his face. “I didn’t say yes.” He retorted.

You smirked. “You didn’t have to. Your smile gave it away.” You opened the door to the rest of the emergency department, taking a step out. “You better watch that face. Can’t hide behind your beard anymore.”

And you disappeared back into the chaos. Robby remained in the room, smiling still to himself. He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip again. For the first time ever, he was glad that he lost in fantasy football.

—

A/N: Thank y’all for dealing with my slight obsession with clean-shaven Robby. I couldn’t help myself, Noah is just such a cutie.

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #the pitt hbo #doctor robby #dr robby #noah wyle #Michael Robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #doctor robby x reader

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playnextdoor · 7 months ago

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Ok brat

summary: you don't like listening to your girlfriend, no matter how scary she is

cw: arcane universe (idk), sevika x reader, mentions of reader not eating, smoking, drinking, teasing, suggestive, sevika being a dom sorry not sorry, cursing, mentions of sex, no sex (maybe for part 2? we'll see), kissing, sevikas fingers in your mouth, she’s a lil rough ig, idk lmk if i missed anything im getting ready for class lol

“My head is killing me,” you groan softly, rubbing your head as your gaze drifts to Sevika. The two of you are slouched in some random booth at The Last Drop. The smell of cleaning supplies and sparked cigarette smoke fills the air, signaling that open time is just around the corner. Your legs are draped over hers, and her hand idly plays with the frayed hem of your pants. She shakes her head as she snuffs out her cigar, her dark eyes glinting with a knowing look.

“It’s because you haven’t eaten today,” she states flatly, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. Her hand finds your thigh again, caressing it lazily, the cool metal of her mech fingers sending a shiver up your spine.

“Okay, yeah, but that doesn’t really have anything to do with that,” you grumble, pushing her hand away and setting your feet on the floor. You know Sevika a little too well, how she seems to read you, and while she might be right, that doesn’t excuse her know-it-all attitude. Her usual reaction to your attitude would be the snap of her fingers in your face or give your cheek a teasing slap, so you drop your head onto the table with a groan to let her know that you don't care about her scolding.

The doorbell chimes as someone walks in, followed by the shuffling of chairs and murmurs from the staff. Yet, Sevika’s silence makes you look up. She’s scowling, lips pressed together like a parent holding back a reprimand. She bites her bottom lip, clearly trying to keep herself from saying what’s on her mind.

“How about you think about the way you want to talk to me while I play my games tonight, yeah?” It’s not a question; it’s a command. You know exactly what that means, being banned from “your” seat, her lap, while she deals with what cards she’ll be playing. Your mouth drops open, recognizing the familiar punishment, and Sevika’s eyes narrow, waiting for you to say some slick shit back.

Instead, you stick your tongue out at her, not caring about being childish. She chuckles, lighting another cigar, and takes a long drag, eyes locked on yours. Without missing a beat, she blows the smoke in your face, and you cough dramatically, waving your hand and gasping for air. Her laughter echoes around you, low and warm, as she shakes her head in disbelief; what a fucking brat. And you can’t help but slam the table as you get up towards the bar to down whatever liquor is waiting for you there.

“UGHHHHH, my head!” you groan, louder this time, for what feels like the umpteenth time today. After leaving early so Sevika could fix her mech arm, you’ve been moping around her office, mostly talking to yourself, fully aware that she’s still pissed at you for earlier.

“What do you wanna eat?” Sevika asks as she rummages through a toolbox without glancing your way.

“Not hungry,” you reply.

“Didn’t ask if you were hungry. I asked what you want to eat,” she snaps, slamming the small screwdriver onto the desk. Her patience is thin, and the frustration radiates off her. Standing with a groan, taking a few long strides toward you, her presence filling the small corner you were in. You’re curled up in your usual spot: a makeshift nest of forgotten clothes left behind by Silco’s goons.

“What’s with the attitude?” Sevika demands, her voice lower as she’s daring you to test her.

You huff, kicking your foot out so that it hits the toe of Sevika’s boot, Her eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing with a hint of amusement. She studies you, and you can’t help but mimic her scowl, your mouth slightly agape as you stare back. You know your irritation stems from more than just a headache. You haven't eaten properly, snacking popcorn and downing a few drinks earlier.

Sevika bends at her knees, placing her hands on them to get eye level with you. Her intense gaze makes your stomach swoop, and though you hate to admit it, the way she bites her cheek and the lines deepening between her brows are intimidating.

“So, this is how it’s gonna be tonight? Alright,” she says, mostly to herself with a hint of pettiness, nodding once before turning to leave the office with a huff. Her final words hang in the air, and you watch her go, feeling a sense of regret settle in your chest. Frustrated with yourself for getting upset, you can’t help but think that she deserved it but only a little.

“You know, my head is feeling fine after this…” you barely manage to say, mouth full of the pasta Sevika made an hour after your little outburst. The warmth of the dish has melted away your day long headache, and the second glass of wine Sevika poured just ten minutes ago leaves you feeling loose, almost ready to throw yourself at her. She glances up and catches your satisfied smile, your cheeks flushed and stuffed with food. Her lips twitch, fighting the urge to lean over and kiss you, but she keeps it to herself, offering only a small smile before finishing her last bite.

“Now you’re the asshole,” you mumble between chews, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sevika choked a bit, grabbing a napkin to cover her mouth.

“Excuse me? You were the one being an asshole all day, asshole,” she fires back, slapping the napkin down on the table with more force than necessary.

“Looks like you’re asking to get smacked,” swallowing the food before taking a sip of wine.

“Maybe you are,” she counters smoothly, and you pause mid-sip, glancing at her through the wine glass. The warped image of her smirk and the spark of desire pooling in your belly make you shake your head. Setting the glass down, you gather both plates.

“If you were thinking about getting some tonight, you’re in for a rude awakening, babe,” you say, rolling your eyes as you march to the sink. You clatter the dishes a bit louder than needed, rinsing out the wine glasses.

The atmosphere shifts as you feel Sevika’s presence behind you, a silent, almost magnetic pull. She moves through the kitchen, tidying up, pushing in chairs, and tossing away scraps of napkin you always fidget with during dinner. A knowing smile lingers on her lips as if she’s already mapped out how the night will end.

Later, in your hot ass shower, your attempt to use up all the hot water, you hear the bathroom door creak open. The thick steam swirls around Sevika as she steps in, leaving the door open. She squints at the fogged-up mirror, grabbing her toothbrush.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too hot, babe?” she asks, her voice casual as she squeezes toothpaste onto her brush.

“It’s fine,” you reply blandly, turning your back to the water as you feel its little pricks of heat.

Sevika finishes brushing her teeth, and a mischievous grin spreads across her face as she eyes the toilet handle. Before you can react, she flushes, sending a rush of icy water over your body. Her laughter booms as she runs out of the bathroom, feet stomping.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” you scream, the cold shock making you jump. Determined not to give her what she wants, you stay in the shower, grumbling to yourself as Sevika giggles from your shared bed.

Later, you’re perched against your pillows, hair wrapped in a silk scarf, glasses on as you attempt to lose yourself in a mystery novel. Just as you set the book and glasses on the nightstand, Sevika waltzs into the room, a towel hanging loosely from her waist, her top bare, and her mech arm detached. She’s drying her damp hair with her remaining hand, muscles rippling with every movement. You can’t help but stare at her, crawling to the edge of the mattress and arching your back on purpose.

“Can you do me a favor—” she begins, but the words die in her throat when she turns to see you, a picture of desire and mischief, your eyes dark and hungry. Amused, she strides over and cups your face in her large hand, thumb brushing over your cheek as she leans in.

“Aw, do you forgive me?” she whispers, her lips brushing your forehead before placing a soft kiss there. You press your lips into a thin line reluctantly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Forget what I said about not getting laid tonight,” you smirk, teeth nipping at her palm. Her grip tightens slightly, the playful heat between you palpable.

“Then from someone who couldn’t seem to listen before…” she trails off, her towel slipping dangerously low on her hips. Her fingers find their way to where you like them the most, your mouth. She doesn't even have to tell you, so obedient as you open your mouth, tongue lolling out with a smile. She curses, a fucking minx you are. Stuffing her fingers in your mouth, you happily take them, licking and slightly sucking onto them. You can't help but shift in your arch, the heel of your foot finding your cunt as you grind into it. Your eyes flicker up at her, eyes low and a look of pure pleasure as you hum around them. Slipping them out of your mouth, it surprises you when she grips your jaw, lips puckering as your eyes go wide.

Her gaze softens as she sees the want in your eyes, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. “You’d better be ready to follow instructions, right, baby?”

a/n: finallllllllyyyyyyy i got the courage to write for sevika. i feel like when i write about an arcane character, im not doing it justice lol hence why i archived my pitfighter vi drabble oops. hope you like it bc i had fun writing it. inbox is always open

#sevika arcane #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x reader smut #sevika smut #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane smut #wlw #orion's writing

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madamechrissy · 5 months ago

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Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, Sukuna fks reader with both his cocks in both holes ahem, (yayyy) lots of use of all his tongues and mouths OF COURSE, public sex, cockwarming, Sukuna calls you little bunny and slutty etc, soft Sukuna, he's falling in LOVE but is stubborn lol true form Sukuna, smacking (pussy, titties, ass, face- all of it lmao) THIS CHAP IS ALMOST ALL SMUT and fluff w/a little angst at the beginning

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: This is ALL fluff and SMUT lol, Four Parts (this is the final one) you're not gonna get much plot, I really wanted them being cute!? don't ask.- also I suck at writing powers, so sorry if I fk anything up that's canon lol! - WC this chap- 7.9k

Comments/ reblogs appreciated if you like this silly stuff, ty for all the love on these little parts they make me so happy❤️

<<<part three

Part Four- Final Part

Two weeks later

Why have you fallen in love with such an ass?

You had asked this question to yourself many times, finally Sukuna was back home, but you refused to go see him, hiding in your room instead. Sukuna had summoned you to dine with him, but you simply locked yourself in, fiddling with the brilliant necklace, the only thing he’d left aside from his infuriating note, watching how the candlelights reflect the facets of the gems.

Knock knock knock.

“I’m not coming, Uraume.” You say, knowing their knock now.

“The King is demanding you come, you must obey.”

“Then he can drag me out.” You hear their footsteps softly padding along the corridors, echoing in the halls.

You wanted to see him, you were dying to see him, but you were far, far too angry, too hurt right now to face him. The past couple of weeks of loneliness, of curling up in his throne and inhaling the scent he left, of being just pathetic over him, over everything he had said. He acted as if he could make you not love him, but that was completely impossible.

You fell for him, for the King of curses, who you have been promised to, the one that your powers are the antithesis of. The being so intimidating to all, but you knew what it was to have his arms around you, what it was to sit on his lap in the throne room like his Queen, which you were. You know what it was to be kissed so thoroughly, the little intimate moments he tries to brush off.

You’re in love with him, and you can’t face him.

Suddenly your door is being banged on, you tense just a bit, jumping now, breath coming in small pants when you hear his booming voice. “I’ll blast this door off the fucking hinges if you don’t come out, wife.”

You huff, scowling as your slippered feet gently pad across the cold marble floor below you, hand shaking as you touch the brass knob, you’re terrified you’ll fold once you face him. You have no willpower, he could just look at you and you’ll open for him, so pathetically, but you’re so angry with him too, you’re conflicted as you pause, knowing he’s right on the side of the door.

“I don’t want to see you.” You choke out then, hiding a sob and failing, Sukuna smacks the door again, making it vibrate.

“Open now, brat. I swear I’ll destroy your entire wing right now.”

“Why? You don’t even like me.”

“Psh, you insolent-”

“Go away, your Majesty.” You can practically hear him seething, feeling his energy so strongly then.

“You open this door now and eat. I command you as your fucking King and husband.”

“Ugh! Fine.” You open the door then, tears glimmering unshed in your eyes, Sukuna sees it then, the hurt on your face, the face he couldn’t get out of his head for weeks. Eyes that haunted him as much as they annoy the shit out of him.

“Do not dare cry.” He orders, you stand straight up then, fists clenched at your sides.

“Your audacity knows no bounds, you cannot constantly command me not to do things, to feel things. If it is so terrible just leave me be, you’ve more than had your chances to make an heir I’m sure. We’ll see if it takes.” Sukuna slams the door open when you try to shut it, walking in now, step by step.

“When were your monthlies?” He asks, you blink then, shaking your head as you try to think.

“I am due this week, so we will know soon if you must lay with me again.”

All four of his ruby eyes glare now. “If I must!?”

“Indeed. I’ll inform you, now… if you please-”

“Fuck that.” Sukuna shuts your door, turning and pressing you against it now, intimidating as his arms bar you, two on either side of your head, two cupping your face. “As if you don’t desire me.”

“I do, but I will not be hurt and dismissed like I’m some stupid child.”

“You basically are to me.”

“Then go. Concubines must miss you- ah!” Sukuna’s slammed his lips on yours now, melting you completely, you’re clinging to him so desperate as he lifts you like you are nothing, you’re just fucking dangling as he holds you so high, lips already swelling from his kisses.

“I am here, I want you, got it brat?” Sukuna speaks through his teeth, two hands gripping your ass rough over your robes. “I need you.”

“Need me?” Your brain short circuits, he’s kissing you desperate, it is needy how he’s all over you, you’re trembling, thighs shaking around his thick waist, tasting the sweet wine on his tongue as it devours your mouth.

“Need to be inside you, fuck I’ve missed it.” You gasp as he parts your robes with two hands while the other two press you against the door, his tongue on his bare abdomen lapping at your bare pussy, you’re whimpering at it, clit throbbing. “Missed your taste, gods.”

“Kuna… you’re…” His thick, long tongue is lapping at you, his lips back on yours again, you’re clinging to his bare shoulders, long nails are pressing against his skin, you’re shaking when he’s lapping at you, over and over, eyes rolling back.

“Need my cocks inside you, bunny. Waited too long.” He huffs, carrying you to the bed now, undoing his robes, you stop him, shaking your head and closing your thighs, earning his glare. “Excuse me, brat?” He shoves them open, only for you to close them once more, glaring right back.

“You left me with a stupid note and some necklace, as if that’ll make anything better! Don’t, I can’t think straight when you touch me.” You whimper those words, he’s cupping your face, red eyes dilated, lips hungry as he lays naked over you.

“I’ll buy you more things, anything, have you dripping with every gem in the fucking country, hmm?”

“No, Kuna. No. You didn’t have to love me back, but to leave me like that? To write your stupid note!? No!” You shove at him, tears falling from your eyes, your body and soul ache for him, but your heart is hurting, as you look at his face in the night, the lights casting shadows on all the hard planes of his face.

“You are stupid to think you do, have you not come to your goddamn senses? Why can’t you just enjoy it… enjoy this.” He’s slathering kisses down your ribcage, your tummy, nipping at your flesh with sharp teeth, his long black nails pressing into your skin, making you soaking wet with every stroke of his hand, of his tongues darting out from all his damn hands.

“If you’re… so… mmm… horny then go… to them- ah!” Sukuna slaps your cheek then, you slap him right back, then you’re devouring each other again, it’s insanity, you’re biting the King of Curses lip so hard you draw blood.

“I don’t want anyone but you, annoying pest.” He grips your chin then, kissing you with the blood all over his mouth, you whine into his lips now, hips arching.

“Why?” You whisper, he sighs, shaking his head. “Why? If you do not answer you will not lay with me.”

“You’re commanding me!?” He leans up on his arms, looming over you, and you’re nodding, watching his ruby eyes narrow. “I cannot explain why I only want a stupid bunny like you, but I do.”

“Is it because you care? At all?” He leans off you then, groaning and running a big hand through his pastel hair.

“I cannot fathom how I’ve come to have such an annoying, insolent girl. Perhaps I should lay with them, if you say so.”

“Go then!” You stand, shoving at the big luk of a damn man, he’s like steel under your palms, his jaw set.

“You want me to?”

“No!” You’re sobbing then, and he’s shaking his head, studying you, hating that you drive him to insanity, hating that all he wants is this brat who smacks him, who bites at him, how can he handle this? You’re making him so fucking crazy, he just wants you screaming in pleasure, not this. “But you should, if you don’t care.”

“I do care, foolish brat.” You shake your head even as he cups your face once more, thumbs brushing under your jaw line, feeling your fluttering pulse point. “Fragile little human, I’ve let you go on too much.”

“You keep trying to scare me away, it won’t work, all you’re doing is hurting me instead, hurting us.” You let him wrap his enormous fingers around your throat, he does it gently, hand shaking, losing his composure.

“What can I do to make you smile again?” He whispers, releasing your throat, thumb brushing your lower lip.

“Let me express myself without doubting me, without making fun of me for it. I know my own heart, you cannot tell me what to feel.” He curses then, looking up at the ceiling, despising the way he wants to make you happy, please you.

You’ve become everything he can think of and he despises that too.

“Must you say the nonsense?” He murmurs, and you smile just a bit, stepping closer, how insane are you, to have the King of Curses hand around your throat and not even flinch? No, you smile instead.

“I won’t constantly say it, but you needed to know how I felt. What if I never saw you again?” The guilt eats at him now, picturing you, the staff has said you’ve barely left the room, that you’ve barely eaten, he even sees your cheeks more hollow, your waist smaller under his touch, infuriating him further.

“I hear you’re refusing food, how are you to make an heir if you waste away?” He says terself, grabbing you tightly now by the waist.

“I was depressed, I cannot eat when I’m depressed.” You whisper.

“So you’ll eat now, even if I have to force food down your throat, got it?” Come to dinner with me.”

“What, you’ll feed me like some baby?”

“You are a dumb little baby. Now.” You stomp after him, tying your robes as he does, you sit far away from him, across the giant table, further infuriating him as you chew your meal.

“Happy, King?” You ask, sipping your water now, Sukuna scoffs, standing up and walking to you.

“Am I happy that my bride is the most petulant brat? No.” You smack at his hands when he starts trying to shove fork fulls in your mouth. “Stop it this instant.”

“I don’t need you to feed me, I need you… I need…” You shake your head, standing and turning, earning him yanking your back against his chest, two arms wrapping you now. “S-stop…”

“You’re aching for me, bet your cunt is soaked. Why fight this, you stubborn girl?” You gasp in pleasure as he cups you between your thighs, feeling your heat against his fingers. “You know you want me inside your slutty cunt.”

“I want you to not be an ass. Ngh!” Sukuna has you bent over the table now, one hand pinning your wrists as the other lifts your robes, your thighs tremble when he sinks two long fingers, curling them just so, you’re weakly whining out and dripping down his hand and wrist, head pressing against the tablecloth. “Mmm…”

“You want me to fill you, don’t you?”

“W-want you… not so fucking… mean.”

He laughs, leaning over you now, but his eyes catch yours, and something takes his breath away, making him gulp now. “Fine, say your stupid sentence if it makes you stop those tears. I only want you moaning.”

“You won’t g-get mad again?” You whisper, he shakes his head, continuing to move his fingers up and down inside your slick little hole, aching for his huge cocks so badly you can’t think.

“Just get it over with, bunny.”

“Love you.” He moans now, kissing you deeply, your words hit him so hard his usually steady hands tremble, he hates those stupid words, from your perfect lips, but he hates you sad much more. You exhale, sniffling, when he stands, turning you and picking you up, holding you tightly.

“Annoying.” Is all he manages, gulping then, you sigh, clinging around his neck now, kissing him softer, so soft he feels too much. “I need to be inside you, do not make your King beg.”

“Would it be so bad, you begging for once?” You whisper, he exhales, sitting you on the table, between your spread thighs, two hands shoving them apart while two fondle your breasts over your robes.

“You think I’ll beg? I’m a King.” You hum softly, trailing your hands down his hard body, finding one of his cocks under his robe, stroking then, catching his eyes as you feel his hard length, you watch his lip part, lashes lowering.

“Maybe you will beg for me. Beg to be inside me again?” You bring his tip against your soppy cunt, he grips you tightly, but you shove him back, smiling.

“You’ll not tease me.” He pulls you against him, but you shake your head, back to stroking him instead, he moans out, resting his head against yours. “You want me just as bad as I do, stop pretending.”

“You alright, Kuna?” You whisper now, teasing your clit with one of his leaky tips, he tries to pull you again but your free hand stops him. “What do we say when we want something?”

“I am so not fucking begging.”

“Hmm. Good night then.” You let go of him, hopping off the table, he scoffs, yanking you by your wrist now, yanking you back, leaning over you, he is intimidating.

“Your pretty pussy is aching, isn’t it?”

“Pretty?” You whisper.

“All of you is. Pretty and irritating.” He kisses you deeper, you feel it then, how much of himself he’s putting to you, and you want to cave so badly.

“Then why don’t you beg to come to my bed?”

“Tch, no… you beg for me to fill you.” You’re whining out as his tongue slips against your clit again, your eyes roll back. “So stubborn, clit is twitching, pussy is drooling.”

“Sh-shut up.” Sukuna smirks though, carrying you up the stairs now, so quickly he has you there before you can blink, you get dizzy when he’s got you back laid on his bed, moaning when he parts your robes and gazes.

“This is where you belong, in my bed naked, constantly.” He huffs, watching as your hair splays out, your purple robes under you, you look so fucking pretty he can’t stand you, how bad his cocks hurt, the precum oozing out of his tips, decorating your inner thighs with white droplets,be spreads them across your skin.

“You need to apologize.”

“What!? Absolutely not.”

“Then we will just lay here.” Sukuna is infuriated now, shoving up off the bed to stare at you, as if you've grown four arms yourself.

“What do you want from me, woman?”

“To apologize for being a dick, leaving without saying goodbye.” He sighs and clenches his teeth.

“Cease that eye watering nonsense. Will you smile if I say it then?” You nod. “Fine, I'm sorry that I did not say farewell, and for… for finding your words foolish.” You stroke his face then, thumbs brushing over the sharp jut of a cheekbone.

“Thank you, Kuna. I missed you.” You whisper softly, you feel the warmth spread through your body, find yourself falling deeper and deeper.

“Your body missed me too, didn't it?”

“Did yours?” Your hand goes to his bare chest, where his heart thuds faster under your touch. He gulps, nodding just a bit, an imperceptible movement that anyone else might miss, but it emboldens you then. “Then lay on your back, my King.”

“Me on my back?” You can tell then, he hasn't done it, let someone have control. You stroke down his chest, his abdomen, trailing his tattoos.

“I'll make you feel very good, husband.” He does as you command, laying on his back, two hands behind his head as the other two find purchase in your hair while you're kissing down his throat, his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat when your tongue darts across a flat nipple.

“You’re an annoying pest.” He grumbles, you smile against him as your lips trail even lower, kissing along the black lines that slide across him, while your fingers set to tug and expose his cocks fully, earning his groan. “Stop teasing me.”

“Why can’t I? You certainly do enough, hmm?” You’re kissing the tips of him now, tongue flicking across the little slits that keep pumping white, inhaling his musky scent as you go.

“M’gonna shove them both in your insolent mouth at once.” He grumbles, but he doesn’t, he watches you with four dilated eyes, the lower ones so lidded they’re just slits that are glimmering in the soft candlelight of his room, which casts shadows across the wall so lewd, your head bobbing on one of his cocks now. “F-fuck…”

You enjoy sucking him, you’ve had much practice in a short time, enjoy the way his lips part, the way his muscles tense, how his hips buck up and jerk. You brace yourself with one hand on the bed, the other stroking his lower cock, his huge, muscled frame trembling under your caresses, his moans urging you.

“Take it deeper, brat, hmm? Can you?” He’s taunting you, but his voice is breathy, you feel him losing his control when his hands yank on your hair, and you take his cock deep in your throat, swallowing and moaning around it, making it vibrate. “Fuck! Need to be inside you, now.”

You pull back, cheeks hollowing, lips smacking and leaving trails of saliva like little glittery strings when you kitten lick his tip again. “Not yet, Kuna-ah!”

Sukuna uses his lower arms to drag you up now, holding you damn near suspended in the fucking air, you’re panicking as he’s chuckling. “Oh you little brat, you really think I can’t do anything I want to you?”

“Put me d-down this instant!” He’s chuckling at you, ass of a man, before he starts dragging your hips to slide across his cocks, between your soppy slit, you’re coating every inch of him, tears falling at how good it feels.

“You’re gonna get filled all night, bunny.” He slams you down on one of his cocks then, you’re screaming at the stretch, cunt throbbing around him, he hisses. “Loosen up, now.”

“C-can’t, m’gonna…” You’re getting eased off his cock again, then yanked back on the other, as his tongue from his stomach slathers your clit, you’re nearly sent over the edge, head falling back, hair falling like a curtain down it. “Ngh!”

“Wanna fill both your slutty holes.” He huffs, one of his tips pressing against your little puckered hole now, he chuckles at your expression. “Not yet, you’re too much of a frightened little prey.”

“M’not, ah- close, close… please…” You whine now, he’s just teasing you with his tips again, one slipping in your other hole, it feels so good you can’t take it, especially when his tongue is lapping at you again, two hands squishing your breasts.

“That’s it, cum all over me, now bunny.” He huffs, looking at you as you fall apart over him, you’re shattering while your cum is pouring all over, making a slick mess, body twitching when he sinks you back fully on one again. “There she goes, she loves being filled by her king, huh?”

“Yes, yes!” You’re over pretending to have control, just clinging to him as he fucks up into you, faster and harder, thrusts jostling you so much your damn teeth click, your pussy is pulsating all around him, your arousal pooling at the base of one cock, while he pummels into you.

“Perfect pussy, s’mine, hmm? Made f’me, made to take me.” You’re whimpering your answer, pathetically, and Sukuna’s thrusts falter, he leans up, kissing your lips, making you fall even deeper, as you struggle to stay on this plane of existence whatsoever, it’s like you’re floating and falling into the abyss that’s him.

“Mhm.” You manage, but it’s enough to urge him, to make his cock pulse for you, leaking against your cervix.

“Gonna take this seed, fill your womb with my heir.”

“Please, please Kuna. Want it, w-want it.” He moans then, sloppy kisses between you both, as your cunt milks his cock for every spurt of cum that starts shooting up inside you.

“Feel m-me?” He’s exhaling, his voice a whisper, he can barely handle how good your cunt feels around him, how she’s gripping him, your eyes roll back in your skull, your mouth open, breasts arched against him when he stuffs you so full. He feels your cervix as he keeps pumping more and more cum. “Asked you a question, brat.”

His gentle smack on your face only makes you cum harder, he groans then, smacking your ass, your tits, little gentle thwacks that prolong you, while his cock stays buried. You’re a trembling goddamn mess, blinking blackness out of your vision as you struggle to focus on your King, sprawled under you, his eyes locked on every movement of your body and face.

“Kuna…” You whisper, blinking rapidly then, he eases out of you, moaning when he watches the mess pouring out of your hole.

“You’re wasting it again, tch.” You barely register how you are on your back, Sukuna’s long fingers stuffing the cum trickling all over into your sore cunt.

“Too much, mmh!” He laughs then, booming laughter that fills his chambers, easing his fingers out and shoving your thighs up, folding you in half. “Wh-what are you doing, I’m sore… ass of a man- ah!”

Sukuna’s thwap on your cunt stings, as he glares down at you. “I’ve had enough of your mouth running, you missed me filling you, didn’t you? Answer.”

“Y-yes.” You’re shaking when his face is between your thighs, despite all of his tongues, the one on his face was the sexiest when it laps you up, something about your little hands in his hair, his broad shoulders spreading you wide, just did more to you. Like he was worshipping you. “I’m sorry I was so… mad at you… my feelings…”

“Your feelings this and that, tch, you’re so needy aren’t you?” You scowl right back, but his tongue is swiping up your slit now, before he leans up, and your mouth eagerly opens, you swallow both of your tastes, earning his satisfied smirk. “Since you’re so needy, I’ll clean you, get you ready for more, yes?”

“Please, my King.” He is between your thighs again, lapping you up, shoving his tongue inside every bit of you, your cunt is pushing out all of his white ropes, which he greedily drinks. “Kuna!”

“Stupid name.” He huffs, tongue flicking your sensitive clit, he spreads your puffy lips wide, watching the little thing twitch with an amused smirk. “We taste so fucking perfect together, you know that?”

“We do… ah! Sensitive!” He’s grinning, sharp teeth against you as he exposes your clit, flicking his tongue over and over, while two of hands grip your hips, dragging you on his mouth. Your hips try to back off but he doesn’t let them, until you’re cumming all over his face again, which he has buried against you, orgasm wrecking your mind and any resolve you ever had.

“How many loads can you take in this tummy, hmm?” He looks up, face coated in your arousal, one hand pressing on your tummy now.

“As many as you want to give me.” Your words destroy him, to hear them from you? It’s like the dreams he’s been cursed with for weeks.

“Good bunny.” You eat it up, the praise, the way he looks at you when he is back to fucking your now sore pussy, his other cock stroking your clit, making you feel so much, too much, wh. “Good, good bunny. Take it all, greedy f’me aren’t you?”

You do, you take all of him somehow, you can’t figure it out, how she stretches to accommodate his length, his thickness, but she does. Your body is begging for more, your eyes glazed with pleasure, as his cock slams into your womb, filling you so deep you swear he’s fucking up your insides, and your cunt keeps greedily milking him, taking everything he’s got.

Sukuna flips you so suddenly you’re breathless again, climbing on top of you, two slick fingers slipping in your little untouched hole again, while he fucks you with one cock, his other arms wrapping your waist. His breath is against your ear while you’re crying out at the stretch, still pushing out remnants of his cum from earlier, dripping with your cum down his red blankets.

“Ready for me to cum in both your holes?” He murmurs, one hand cupping your face, turning you towards him you nod weakly, craving him, he moans into your mouth, tongues sloppy as they play, and he slips his other cock into that hole now.

“Kuna, too much… too big…” You’re crying out when he enters you, both cocks now, just their tips then a little further.

“Relax, bunny. You’re all mine, aren’t you?” You nod weakly, and it starts feeling so good, when he puts you on your knees, your ass arches for him, which he’s gripping brutally, spreading you wider. “Look at you, both your slutty holes begging for me.”

You can’t speak anymore, already weak from the orgasms, now he’s never even softened you don’t think, his cocks full of blood, when he sinks them further, you’re gripping the blankets, head buried, muffling your cries. He’s fucking both of your holes steadily, not going fully in, he’s maybe a few inches, but it’s so good, you’re so full of Sukuna.

“Feel me everywhere, you’re mine, all of you.” One of his hands entangles in your hair, messy already, as he feels both of your holes clenching him, your cunt is soaking wet, your ass so tight it’s strangling his cock, all while his balls are smacking your clit. “Hear it?”

“Y-yes…” You do hear it, the smacking of skin, the wetness of your cunt, making your ass arching up for more.

“Perfect f’me, fuck I missed you.” You tremble under him now, trying to turn your weak neck to look up at him, and he’s bending over you, big body taking you completely over, sinking deeper and deeper. “Yes, brat, I d-did.”

“Love you, Kuna.” You whisper, instead of yelling at you, he moans, kissing your mouth, a hand choking your throat, taking your oxygen while he takes you over, cocks moving easier and easier.

“Cum all over me, lemme feel it, you can do it hmm, my Queen?” At those words you’re ended, to hear how he professes them, you begin climaxing, ass clenching one cock while your pussy drools over his other, he has to pause, you feel so fucking good all around him.

“Kuna!” Your stupid nickname ruins him, as does how tight you’re gripping him, when he sees your pretty face all fucked out.

“Ready for me to fill you so full you can’t walk or run that mouth?” He huffs, you nod eagerly, and he’s pouring his seed in both your holes, the sensations just prolonging your orgasm. Sukuna’s grip tightens as he cums so hard, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, leaving a bruise, you love it, love the sting, love the way he marks you, the way he feels.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, his cocks still buried deep, your pussy and ass spasming around them, catching your breath now, as is your King. His eyes are closed, his breathing ragged, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen, not one bit, keeping you pinned, keeping you full.

“You’re mine, stupid little bunny.” He whispers, his voice hoarse, his teeth sinking into the back of your shoulder now.

“Yours.” You whisper back, your voice trembling with satisfaction, your heart fluttering at the possessiveness in his tone.

He pulls out slowly, a gush of cum following him, painting your thighs, your holes, all over until it’s a dripping mess, the wet spot under you growing, mixing with your sweat soaked bodies. He turns you, cupping your face and hovering over you, watching your breasts rise and fall, spreading your thighs and smirking at all the cum oozing from your holes.

“You called me… your Queen.” You whisper, and he rolls his eyes.

“Tch, that is what you are? Foolish brat.”

“I enjoyed that.” He smirks now, leaning down to hover over you, studying a face that’s become far too important too fast.

“Did you now?”

“I did. Thank you for… not telling me to stop saying it.” You manage, emotions in your throat, you don’t expect him to ever say it back, and that hurts, but you feel so connected then, in the quiet night under him.

“It’s foolish but I tire of your frown, that upsets me. With annoyance.” He covers up the truth, that your sad face breaks him.

You smile almost knowingly, as if you can read him so well. “My King, may I start the training finally, tomorrow?”

“You’re still set on that, huh?” You nod. “Fine, I’ll do whatever you wish, as long as you…”

“Smile?”

“That.” You do so then, brightening your face, making his stomach flip, he hates that you control him this way, still wondering just what powers or spells you’ve put on him. “Better.”

Soon you’re snuggled up to him after being cleaned up, bare against his naked frame under the heavy covers, Sukuna loves even your little cold hands and cold feet, but he sure wouldn’t be letting you know. “Warm them up, now you pest.”

“We’ve been through this, I need you to do that.” He scoffs, pulling you against his chest, one hand brushing your hair back soothingly, as you yawn. “I missed this, you holding me.”

“Shut it, brat.” You smile as you nuzzle him, and soon you fall asleep, while Sukuna stares up at the ceiling, the one painted with ancient wars, wars he’s participated in, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to live without you.

How annoying you are.

*****

“Sore, bunny?” Sukuna teases the next day, as you begin training, you glare at him now. “What?”

“You know I am.” You hiss, considering he’d fucked you twice last night, you’re sore in places also you can’t even explain, in ways that make your cheeks heat up while you walk.

“Weak little human.” He taunts, you hold your hands up then, focusing as he’s been showing you for hours. “Gonna do something, bunny?”

You glare when he taunts you, and then gasp as he begins to cleave several trees in half. “Holy…”

“This is why we needed to be outside.” He’s smirking sadistically, so very proud of his powers, you roll your eyes. “Try to stop me, bunny, close your eyes, don’t get distracted.”

You concentrate, feeling your own energy fill you, shutting your eyes, and positioning your hands just so, until you hear a grunt. You open them, realizing you’ve completely locked Sukuna’s arm up, he’s grinning though, nodding at you, and you use the energy to slam him into the ground.

“Fuck…” He’s huffing, you gasp now, running to him, letting your energy fall, only for him to drag you on him, laughing. “You are a witch.”

“A witch?”

“Yes, a witch. Dropping me to my fucking knees, making me stupid for you, haunting my dreams.”

“Your dreams?” You whisper, hair falling to the side, brushing his broad shoulders over his bare chest as he holds you on him, his head on the grass below. Trees are decaying, grass is withering, all from him, but you think it’s beautiful, the destruction he’s brought.

“All of you, endlessly irritating.” You smile then, realizing he cares just as much as you do, though he surely wouldn’t say that.

In his own way, this was it.

“Maybe I am bewitching you, one day you’ll fall in love with me.” He snorts, rolling all four eyes, shocking you when he has you flipped on your back, breathless.

“You wish, brat. Keep dreaming.”

*****

“Sukuna, you cannot leave me again. Please.” You’re pleading two weeks later, as he tells you he must leave for a few days again. “Take me with you, or send your damn armies.”

“A King must stand with them, you have me be a stupid bunny like you?”

“Stupid bunny!?” You use your energy then, crashing everything off the giant table with a clatter, earning his grin.

“You’re sexy when you’re using your flimsy little fucking powers.”

“Oh fuck you!” You stomp off then, but he’s got you in his arms before you can leave, holding you tightly. “Stop it. I’m angry.”

“You’re always angry, bunny really thinks she’s not just prey.” You shove at him now, knocking him back, only making him grin wider.

“Take me with you, please. I can help.” You see it then, the emotions in his gaze, he shakes his head at you. “You think I'm incapable?”

“Not at all, fuck you’re more capable than most of the dumb boys that fight for me.”

“Then why not?”

“Because I need you safe.” His roaring voice echoes in the dining hall now, he cups your face with rough hands. “I have to make sure you’re here, where I know no one can touch you.”

“I don’t want to be without you.” You feel tears streaming down your cheeks now, he swipes at them, the gnawing in his heart and soul growing with every moment he spends with you, with every look you give him. He can’t take it, all that he feels for you, building and building. “I feel sick.”

You rush out then, and he sighs, watching your retreating form when Uraume walks up. “Could you check on her? She’s angry again, little brat.”

Uraume nods, smiling just a bit, and soon finds you, throwing up. They blink in concern, coming up to you then, holding your hair, as you whimper miserably. “Has something upset your stomach, my Queen?”

“I didn’t even eat or drink, he’s got me s-so angry, Uraume. He doesn’t think I can help…” You’re sick again, and Sukuna is standing by your door, watching in concern as Uraume rubs your back.

“Something is wrong, when was your last monthly?” You blink then, rapidly, leaning on your knees, eyes catching Sukuna’s at the door.

“I haven’t had one since I’ve been here.” You touch your tummy then, smiling, and you see it, not a smirk or sadistic grin, it’s a beautiful smile from Ryomen Sukuna. “I am with child?”

“I’ll have the royal doctor examine you tomorrow. My King, perhaps we can put off the journey for a few days?” They ask, as they’re helping you clean up, you’re cleaning your teeth, even the water you drink after making your tummy hurt.

“For a few days then. Leave us for a moment, please.” Soon Sukuna picks you up carefully, in his arms, cradling you to his chest. Your arms wrap his neck, as you caress his face, so much unspoken between you both, you just study each other, breathless. “You’re carrying my heir?”

“I hope so, Kuna.” You admit, while he sits on the bed, still holding you across his massive lap with two arms, the others, brushing back your hair. “I want to have many heirs for you, I promise I will be a good mother, and a good queen.”

“I already know that, foolish girl. God help me if they’re stubborn like you.” Your eyes narrow, earning his laughter.

“I hope it will be a son for you.”

Sukuna hopes it’s a girl, one just like you, but he doesn’t say that, he shouldn’t say that, he’s a King after all, he needs male heirs. But as one hand rests on your still flat tummy, he pictures it, many children with you, emotions making his heart race faster and faster.

“You cannot come if you are, you know this, don’t be so stubborn.” You sigh, looking up at him.

“I know that. I can’t risk something happening.”

“Finally you see reason, pregnancy becomes you. Don’t glare at me, brat, come on now.” He pulls you against him you rest your head on his chest, nausea easing then as his energy consumes you both, surrounding you. “This baby, with both of our powers, will be a menace.”

“He will be sweet like me, thank you.” Sukuna smirks.

“We’ll see.”

*****

After confirming you were indeed pregnant, Sukuna put his journey off a few days, and he surprises you even when he’s gone, he has an entire nursery made by his servants, it makes no sense to this early but he’s so sure about it. All of his concubines also have disappeared, you’re not really sure where they went, and the servants pamper you.

But you miss him. When he does return weeks later, you’re curled up in his throne asleep, breaking his heart, he’s covered in grime and sweat from his trek, you look so fragile and tiny to him. He’s been consumed again by dreams of you, of fears of something happening to you, to the baby, so to see you so peaceful allows him to breathe for just a moment.

Sukuna gets down on one knee, kneeling for his sleeping queen, so beautiful in front of him, caressing your face carefully, brushing your hair off it where it’s fallen. You snuggle against his big hand, brows together, he notices your hand is on your tummy over your robes, he places his other hand there as you’re mumbling then.

“Kuna… miss you… love you…” You’re babbling, head shifting, your brows knitting together, and he exhales, leaning close, the words that have been stirring since he met you ready to spill.

“I love you, bunny. Infuriating, annoying, silly, stubborn brat.” His whisper is so quiet, and you’re still asleep, he exhales in relief that you don’t hear him yet, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You make me so foolish.”

You come to then, seeing him and your eyes widening, before they glimmer in tears and you smile so big at him. “You’re home!”

Home, the castle never really felt like a home until you, did it?

“I’m here, why are you sleeping on my throne?” He demands, you blush then in the night, shifting to sit up, looking into his glinting ruby eyes.

“I feel so close to you here.” You admit softly.

“I need to bathe, you’ll wash me hmm?”

“Yes, Kuna.”

You’re both in the onsen, it reminds you of the first time you were taken by him, memories in every bit of the steamy room, as you start cleaning him, sitting on the edge, your legs draped in the water. You frown as you find new scars have formed, although he heals quickly, these must have been deep. You tense as you trail your washcloth across his shoulders.

“They’re just scratches, bunny. Calm down.” He says, feeling it, your worry behind him. He can feel every bit of you, even when he’s gone, he turns then, seeing your beautiful body, smiling as he sees a little roundness of your tummy. “Look at you… this body, fuck…”

“It’s showing a little.” You smile, touching it now, Sukuna leans down, pressing a kiss against it, your hands stroking his hair, feeling it slick under your fingers.

“I need you, bunny. Now.” He tugs you in the water now, you gasp as he pulls you against him, tongue on his stomach thick and wet as it laps at you between your thighs. Your head falls back for his brutal kisses, his rough bites. “Your marks have faded, need new ones huh?”

“Need them everywhere, Kuna.” Sukuna realizes you didn’t hear him earlier, because you would have been boasting about his confession if you did, but you still seem to just know, infuriating in your ability to assess him completely. “What is it, my King?”

He’s looking at you this certain way, opening and closing his lips, you wonder then what he wants to say, but holds back. Your heart is racing as you cling to him, but he kisses you instead, muffling your cries while his tongue works your cunt over and over, sliding inside you, preparing you for him.

“Miss your taste.” He huffs, lips parted, little droplets falling from his lashes. “Missed your annoyance.”

“You missed me, hmm?” You’re grinning, he’s scowling, it’s what you both seem to do, but you love it, love when you’re stretched by his cock and pressed against the wall of the bath, water undulating around you.

“Do you ever shut up?” Your giggles turn into cries soon of pleasure, as his cock drags on your walls, and she’s tightening around him.

“Kiss me.” He does as you demand, desperate and hungry, four arms taking over every bit of your body as he destroys your mind, biting your lips until they’re swollen, sinking deeper into your welcoming cavern, so warm and wet for him.

“I love you, brat.” You gasp now, blinking rapidly as you stare at him. “I won’t say this nonsense again, got it?”

“You love me!? Ah!” Sukuna shoves his cock hard in you now, you’re trying to register his words, as he fucks all sense out of your mind.

“I’ll not repeat it. You know it, yes brat?” He cups your face, gripping your chin, as your heart races, you’re trying to form a coherent word, wondering if you’re dreaming. “Your King asked you a question.”

“You l-love me?”

“Tch.” He pulls out of you, making you whine. “You’re too cock drunk to focus, aren’t you? I said I’ll not repeat myself.”

“You love me too?” You’re laid down on the towels once more, he’s hovering over you with two arms, the others gripping your face.

“Yes, you’ve cast whatever spell, evil bunny. Do you know now?” You’re sobbing, but you’re smiling, confusing the shit out of him. “Are you sad or happy, fuck!?”

“So happy, so happy. I love you and our baby so much, my King.” He rolls his eyes, scoffing, but your words melt him.

“Enough of that. Now.” He sinks back inside your cunt, moaning as he feels your wet heat after weeks of not having it. “Need to feel you cumming for me.”

*****

Your arranged marriage with Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, was by far and away the best thing that happened to you. You’ve already had your first child now, a son named after his father, but Sukuna is determined to have more and more of them. When you feel insecure, he scoffs and demands you stop, before his tongues and hands worship your body.

He doesn’t profess his feelings too often, but sometimes when he thinks you’re sleeping, he’ll caress your cheek and whisper ‘I love you, bunny’ thinking you don’t hear him. And every so often when he cums, he cries out in your ear just so, you hear some jumbled ‘fucking love you’ before he catches himself.

He was still a force to be entranced by anyone, but he is soft with his wife, you, his Queen, he’s soft with his son, when he thinks no one sees. Sukuna is a conundrum, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to his duality, brutally dominating the world one moment, and the next he’s sweetly kissing your baby’s forehead, or caressing your face softly.

Now, having recovered from having the baby, Sukuna has you on his lap during his meetings with the council often, however this time, your devious husband has his cock inside of you, under your robes. Your cunt is gushing all around him as you try to maintain your composure, and he’s delighting in it, laugh soft in your ear, tickling you as you throb.

“Stay still now bunny, they’ll know what a slut their Queen is for her King’s cocks, hmm?” He taunts, you glare at him, only serving to make him jerk his hips up just so, your eyes roll back in your skull, being stretched like this on him.

“Y-you’re the worst, K-Kuna.” You whisper back, he chuckles again, two of those huge tattooed hands pressing your hips down, stuffing his full length inside you, his tip drooling against your cervix.

“I’ll put two babies in your womb this time. Need twins.” His words end you, the council are speaking now, and you’re trying so hard not to scream out, his other cock his pressing against your clit, you’re gushing down his muscled thighs, his veiny length, feeling so fucking good you can’t take it.

“Your Majesty, we-”

“No, I’m busy.” Sukuna fucking flings his subjects, you’d normally get on him about his antics, but you can’t speak when his cock is buried so deep. He rests his chin on one hand lazily, as the other people speak, and he keeps you still, warming his cock as the other drizzles precum on your belly.

“Kuna, please…” You whisper now, and he feels you tightening, scowling up as you make him sensitive.

“You brat, you mean to tease me?” You bat your lashes innocently.

“No, my King.”

“Keep going and they’ll have their next heir right here.” He hisses, serving to make your heart race, your cunt dripping all over, he sinks a hand under your robes, his tongue from his hand lapping it up, as you bite your lip, stifling your cries. “Want them to watch me fuck another in you?”

“N-no, sadistic ass.” He glares right back, someone is saying something, but the two of you are too consumed in each other to notice.

“Stay still, brat, and I’ll let you ride me right here when we’re done, if you don’t I won’t wait, you’ll have a royal audience.”

You make it through the meeting, just barely, and soon he’s got your robes parted, and you’re straddling him on his throne, taking both of his cocks, riding him, your hands braced on his strong shoulders. He’s sucking on your nipples as your breasts bounce in his face, letting you control the pace, letting you ride him, he won’t tell you but he loves it when you do.

“Going to keep you pregnant, brat.” He huffs, wrecking you with his words, you swear you hear an I love you when he’s cumming so deep, but you let him think you don’t.

“Love you, Kuna.” You murmur, it makes him melt, but he just glares.

“You can still talk, huh bunny? Need to fix that.”If Sukuna is a little softer these days, he has only his very bratty bride to blame, you.

A/N- aww this was so fun, I loved writing this fun little mini series here. It was fluffy and filthy and I enjoyed making Sukuna soft, idk idk lol!. Ty for the love on this little thing!? Ya'll I'm hooked on Sukuna fr lol (already wrote modern Sukuna nowww) so plenty more to come.

Taglist (Rest will go in repost!) - @mistygrovesarchive @mima0127 @janrcrosssing @thejujvtsupost @clp-84 @makingtimemine @silvarys @after-laughter-come-tears @yenayaps @vantedaes @liivzen @just-lilita @jdevilmadness @lixern @spaceeyhem @thisisew @bozos-r-us @slootbear @pamemoonlight @xxyaoi-nationxx @jschlattsgff @alessdramawouldbenice @sukunasfavgroupie @1emma1 @nanamjai @1-800-blues-clues @watashiwasohidesu @vynwan-cbq @mouseyboo @imbacklovie @cyberket @chuuminn @diannana @hanham10 @arilxup88 @suna-is-my-one-and-only @yv-ania @urgirlraven @sillymortalblob @nana-thee-galaxy-g1rl @jiahu

#sukuna ryomen #king sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #true form sukuna #arranged marriage #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut

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fckmebarnes · 12 days ago

Text

catching bucky jerk off?

the red flush he gets on his cheeks? how he fucking stutters and tries to deny it

but you know what he was doing and you heard him through your shared apartment wall

“c’mon buck — i know what you were doing in there: you can’t fool me.”

“i, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“no?” he shakes his head. you smile as you advance further into his room than just at the threshold. you walk to his dresser, pulling out the top drawer. you hear him suck in a breath. caught ya.

“then what are my favorite pair of underwear doing in your drawer, james?” you dangle them on your finger turning around and his face is as red as the pair of underwear on your finger

“shit. i can explain.”

“yeah, i’d love to hear this one.” you reply sarcastically as he starts stammering out bullshit excuses but you stop him as you saunter up the edge of his bed, a finger on his lips — shushing him.

“lean back.” and he does. god, the power.

“tell me what you were thinking about before i came in here. don’t lie.” he shuts his mouth as you straddle his lap, moving to hover your clothed cunt over his cock in his boxers — the same pair you jsut caught his hand down.

“i-“ you smile as you lower your clothed cunt onto his covered cock, moving your hips and grinding into him softly.

“c’mon, buck. tell me. was it to do with me?” he nods as he swallows thickly, hands tentatively comjng to your hips before you nod once giving him the ok.

te second you do he’s like another person

“was thinking of you,” he speaks lowly, voice rough. his pushes you more down on his lap, sucking in a breath. “thinking of this pussy.” you fully sit on his lap and you both groan.

you felt a wet patch form on your underwear

“yeah?”’you can only breathe out now, the cockiness that was once there was quickly fading as roles reversed.

“yeah.” he states, before bucking his hips up into you making you lean forward, falling into his chest, and you groan as his cock rubs against your clothed clit. “wanna feel this cunt, baby. will you let me?”

you stay quiet for a second as you grind back down into him, dry bunking him. the creak of the bed mixed with your pants made your head dizzy

“yes, bucky. yes, please, fuck…” you were begging now.

only in his wildest dreams.

without question, he pulls his cock out through his boxers and pushes your underwear aside, before sticking his cock in between the fabric and your pussy mound

“let’s see how wet she is for me first, babygirl.”

he doesn’t hesitate as he slides his two metal fingers through your cunt with ease and he fucking moans into your neck, his right hand gripping the back of your neck pressing you firmly into him

“bet i could just…” he slips two fingers easily into your wet cunt, groaning again. “of course, so fucking easy for me.” he lazily pumps his fingers in and out of you for a bit, reveling in the sounds of your whines and moans against his skin

he could live like this forever

but he had to feel your cunt

he takes his fingers and you whine for a second at the loss

“poor baby, lost some fingers in that pussy of yours. such a hard life you live, huh?” you pout against him and he can’t help but chuckle as he teases your folds with his tips

“tell me what you want, baby.”

“your cock, bucky please fill me up. please…” you’re babbling nonsense

just the way he likes it

“your wish is my command, pretty girl.”

#writing ᝰ.ᐟ #bucky blurbs .☘︎ ݁˖#bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female yn #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #@ bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n

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bueckets · 2 months ago

Text

Love Me Tender (Then Crank Up the Dial)

Pairing: dom!Paige x sub!reader

Genre: uh vibrator, a bathroom, and your little shit girlfriend, this is just literal porn

Description: It’s supposed to be dinner. A quiet, romantic, Valentine’s Day reservation. But nothing about is quiet—especially not when she’s got a remote in her hand, a smug look on her face, and complete control over the vibrator tucked between your thighs.

Spoiler alert: you won’t leave the restaurant dry—or alone.

WC: 4.3k

Notes: i’m unwell.

The smooth silk of your dress clings to you, hugging the shape of your thighs where you sit stiffly in the restaurant booth, hands folded in your lap like you’re prim and proper. Like you’re not unraveling. Like you’re not shaking, just barely, under the heat of Paige’s gaze.

She’s across from you, fingers wrapped loosely around the stem of her wine glass, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She’s in a suit—tailored to perfection, navy-blue, the crisp lines sculpting along her broad shoulders, the deep V of her collar teasing a glimpse of collarbone. Paige has always known how to command attention without trying, without forcing it—she owns it, the same way she owns the court, the same way she owns you.

Under the table, pressed between your legs, is a slick, buzzing little secret. Her secret. The vibrator nestled against your clit hums at the lowest setting, teasing, thrumming against your pulse. Paired with the stretch of the plug buried inside your ass—God, you’re already at the edge of insanity.

The worst part? She hasn’t even touched the remote yet. Not properly, at least. Just enough to remind you it’s there, enough to make every shift of your hips a risk, every movement a battle between relief and torture.

Your breath hitches as she tilts her head, watching you closely, fingers tapping lightly against the remote resting beside her plate. Her nails are short, painted clear, effortlessly clean—the same hands that have spent hours palming a basketball, wrapping around your throat, spreading you open like she has all the time in the world.

“You’re quiet,” she murmurs, taking a slow sip of wine. “Something wrong, baby?”

Your jaw clenches. You want to glare at her. You want to fight, but you can’t—because Paige loves this part too much. Loves the way you squirm, loves the way you bite your lip bloody just to keep from moaning in a public setting.

Her foot slides forward under the table, nudging against your ankle, teasing its way up your calf, slow, lazy.

“Tell me,” she says. “Or do I have to turn it up to get you to talk?”

Your nails dig into your palms. The thought of her cranking the setting higher—no, no, not here.

You clear your throat, forcing your voice even. “I’m fine.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, swirling the wine in her glass before setting it down. “Mmm. Liar.”

Your heart stops—or maybe it kicks up, your pulse hammering in your throat as she casually picks up the remote, thumb hovering over the dial. Your muscles go rigid, every nerve locked in anticipation.

She doesn’t press it. Not yet. Instead, she leans forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping to something dangerously soft.

“Let me guess,” she murmurs, eyes flicking down toward your lap. “It’s starting to get a little unbearable, isn’t it?”

Your thighs clench, heat flashing through your body. Fuck. You shouldn’t—shouldn’t react so much to just her words, but she knows you too well. Knows how to slip under your skin, how to make you burn with just a look.

Paige smirks, and then she finally presses the button.

A sharp, sudden jolt slams through you. The vibration spikes—no longer a subtle tease, but a deep, rolling pulse against your clit, strong enough that you jerk in your seat.

Your fork clatters onto your plate. Heat immediately rushes to your face.

“That’s better,” she muses, tilting her head. “So sensitive tonight, baby. Maybe I should’ve gone with something stronger.”

Your breath comes out in short, uneven gasps. The plug stretches tight inside you, every pulse of the vibrator amplifying the heat coiling low in your stomach. It’s too much. Too much and not enough, because you need to move, need to grind down, but you can’t—not here, not in a fucking restaurant.

“Paige,” you hiss under your breath, barely managing to keep the desperation from your voice.

She quirks a brow. “What?”

“Turn it down.”

She laughs—low, deep, like she enjoys your suffering. “Turn it down?” Her gaze flicks to your lap, her smirk sharpening. “But you’re already soaking through your dress, baby.”

Your stomach plummets.

Your hands fly to your lap—fuck, fuck, she’s right. The silk fabric, already thin, has betrayed you, the dark spot between your thighs a damning proof of your arousal.

Paige hums in satisfaction, setting the remote back down, not bothering to lower the setting. Your whole body trembles.

She leans back, taking her time, pretending to glance over the menu like she hasn’t just reduced you to a mess in the middle of a five-star restaurant.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” she murmurs, not looking up. “Sitting there, taking it.”

A shudder runs through you. Your mind is a blur, the pleasure cresting just enough to drive you insane but never enough to push you over.

Paige knows exactly how to keep you suffering. You sit there, legs squeezed so tight your thighs ache, hands clenched into useless little fists in your lap, every muscle locked as you fight to hold yourself together. To keep from breaking.

Paige is relaxed. She sits back against the plush leather of the private booth, legs spread, hand resting lazily over the remote, thumb idly circling the dial but not pressing it. Yet. Just teasing. Just reminding you that she’s in control.

Your breath is ragged, shoulders trembling as you try to not fucking whimper in a public setting.

A waitress approaches—blonde, pretty, her uniform perfectly pressed—and for a second, just a second, you think Paige might have some mercy. Might turn the toy off while she places her order.

You should know better.

"Have you decided, ma’am?" the waitress asks, her voice smooth and polite.

Paige hums, tapping her finger against the remote like she’s thinking. Like she’s deliberating. And then—oh, fuck—she turns the dial up another level.

A sharp, intense pulse slams through your clit, the vibrator kicking up into a deep, rolling rhythm that has you jerking against the seat, nails digging hard into your palms as you bite back a strangled moan.

Paige doesn’t even look at you. She’s calm, unreadable, as if she’s not watching you come apart right in front of her.

"I’ll have the filet mignon," she says smoothly, voice completely even, like she’s not currently wrecking you under the table. "Medium-rare. And she’ll have—" Paige pauses, finally looking at you, eyes dark, lips quirked.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

Your chest rises and falls too fast, breath shaky, helpless, as the relentless vibration works you open, thrumming deep through your clit, pulsing against the plug inside you. It’s too much, too good, but not enough—never enough—because Paige is keeping you right there, dangling on the edge, teasing, tormenting, watching you drown in it.

"She’ll have the salmon," Paige finally says, answering for you.

Her eyes are locked on you, watching you struggle. Watching you break.

The waitress scribbles it down. "Any drinks?"

"Mmm," Paige hums, pretending to think—and then, just to be a bitch, she cranks the setting higher.

A sharp, punishing jolt tears through you.

Your body locks, your breath catches, a tiny, choked whimper slipping out before you can stop it. The waitress doesn’t notice, but Paige does. She loves this, lives for it.

"Just water for her," she says smoothly, shutting the menu. "She’s already a little… flushed."

Your whole face burns, thighs trembling as you desperately try to keep your breathing under control.

The waitress nods, stepping away, leaving you alone in the private booth with her.

Silence stretches. Paige leans forward, eyes glinting, her fingers slowly tracing the outline of the remote like she’s considering ending you right here, right now. Her voice is low, sultry, dragging over you like silk and sin.

"Did you just whimper for me, baby?"

Your breath stutters, muscles coiled so tight you might shatter, the relentless, pulsing vibration burrowing through you like a second heartbeat—no, stronger, crueler, because your heart doesn’t make your knees weak, doesn’t flood your core with helpless, dripping heat. Paige watches you like a wolf watching prey, that smirk just bordering on smug as she twirls the remote between her fingers.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction. “Such a mess, and I haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

You swallow hard. Your thighs clench—useless. The silk of your dress is ruined, clinging to you like sin, like evidence. The heat of the restaurant, the murmur of distant conversation, the candlelight flickering between you—it all feels unreal, like you’ve been removed from normalcy and placed in a purgatory of her design, one where every breath, every twitch, is hers to control.

The waitress is gone, the order placed, and yet Paige still hasn’t granted you relief. If anything, she’s enjoying the game too much, savoring your trembling hands, the way your body betrays you with every involuntary shudder. You feel it in the way she leans back, lazy, her legs spread beneath the table, confidence dripping from her like fine wine.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she taunts, her fingers flexing over the remote. “You look like you’ve got something to say.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes. Not when she shifts slightly, boot nudging between your ankles, forcing your legs apart just enough to remind you who’s in control. Not when she presses the remote’s dial forward another click—just one. Just enough to send a fresh wave of torturous pleasure rolling through your oversensitive core.

Your breath shatters into something between a gasp and a choked moan. Your fingers fly to the edge of the table, gripping hard, knuckles white.

Paige’s eyes glint.

“Careful,” she warns, tilting her head. “People might hear you.”

It’s too much. You can feel yourself unraveling, every nerve raw, every second a stretch of unbearable tension. And she knows. Oh, she fucking knows. The bastard. The sadist. The woman who holds you together and tears you apart in equal measure.

Paige leans in, slow, deliberate, resting her chin on her palm like she has all the time in the world. Like she’s not currently dismantling you one pulse at a time. The flickering candlelight between you casts shadows across her sharp jaw, highlights the smug amusement in her eyes as she watches you tremble on the edge of something devastating.

“You’re shaking, baby,” she murmurs, voice syrup-thick, low enough that it curls around your spine like a touch. “That bad, huh?”

Your nails bite into the tablecloth, your breath a wrecked thing in your chest. The vibrator’s merciless now, the setting just high enough to keep you right on the brink, never letting you tip over, never letting you breathe. It’s a calculated cruelty—Paige knows exactly how to play you, how to keep you strung out, how to turn you into a mess of heat and need with nothing but a dial and a smirk.

Her boot slides further between your legs, pressing, just barely, but it’s enough to send a fresh bolt of pleasure lancing through you. Your thighs clench around nothing, your body an open wound of want, so fucking desperate it’s humiliating.

“Paige,” you whisper, half a plea, half a warning.

She hums, tilting her head, pretending to consider. “What is it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?”

Paige sees the truth before you can even think to lie. Her smirk sharpens, and then—she has the audacity to stretch, to feign casual boredom as she flicks the remote again. Just a little. Just enough to send another sharp pulse through your clit, enough to make your body jerk, enough to make your mouth fall open on a silent gasp.

She watches you drown in it. Watches your shoulders shudder, watches the way your legs twitch under the table, helpless against the cruel, endless tease. And then—she sighs, setting the remote down with an air of finality, like she’s lost interest. Like she’s done playing.

Your stomach drops, panic cutting through the haze of arousal, because no—no, she can’t just leave you like this, can’t just push you to the edge and then fucking abandon you in the middle of a restaurant.

“I think you need a moment,” she says, smooth, detached, like she’s commenting on the wine selection instead of completely wrecking you.

She leans back, stretching her arms over the booth, legs spread in that infuriatingly casual way, radiating dominance, confidence, control. You can feel it from across the table, the weight of her ownership, the unspoken demand curling thick between you.

Your pulse hammers. Your thighs tremble. The ache between your legs is unbearable.

Paige cocks a brow.

“Well?”

It’s not a question. Your breath catches. A second passes. Then another.

And then—your legs move before your brain catches up. You force yourself out of the booth, every step shaky, every nerve raw. The vibrator is still on, still buzzing insistently inside you, and it takes everything in you not to stumble, not to let your knees give out under the weight of your own need.

The air of the restaurant is thick, suffocating, heat curling in your chest, your head. You barely register the dim lighting, the hushed conversation around you, the clinking of silverware against porcelain. All you can feel is the slick, throbbing ache between your legs, the torturous pulse of pleasure rolling through your core.

You don’t have to look to know Paige is watching you.

The moment you step into the hallway leading to the bathrooms, the noise of the restaurant fades, leaving you in a quiet, empty stretch of dimly lit space. Your breath is shallow, ragged, your body vibrating with tension.

The second you slip into the bathroom, you brace yourself against the sink, gripping the cool porcelain like it can ground you. Your reflection stares back at you—flushed, disheveled, pupils blown wide with need. You barely recognize yourself.

The door creaks open behind you. Paige steps in. Then locks it. Her boots strike the tile slow. Measured. She stalks toward you like a huntress with the kill already bleeding in her claws. You don’t move. Can’t. Your fingers clutch the sink, trembling, white-knuckled, and that treacherous little hum still buzzes in your core, low and deep and maddening. Your thighs are soaked. Your knees feel like they’re not yours. And Paige—Paige is silent as she comes up behind you, a shadow in navy and control.

You meet your own eyes in the mirror—wide, desperate, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any color left. Behind you, Paige moves closer. The heat of her body rolls off her in waves, a living furnace pressed just shy of your spine.

“You’re a mess,” she murmurs, her voice just a breath, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Look at you.”

You do. God, you do, even though shame burns hot under your skin. She places her hand over yours on the sink—solid, sure, hers—and leans in just enough that her front brushes your back. It’s not a question. It’s an assessment. A challenge. A reminder.

“You walked through a five-star restaurant dripping into your fucking heels,” she says, dark amusement threading through every word. “And no one knew. No one but me.”

Your breath catches, a soft whimper escaping without permission, and she grins—teeth sharp, cruel delight dancing at the edge of her lips. The hand not bracing you pins your hip, pulling you back into her. And then her thumb dips between your thighs, presses firm against the soaked silk clinging to your cunt.

“Still buzzing for me?” she teases, rubbing in a slow, maddening circle, the pressure enough to make your legs wobble. “Fuck, baby. You’re soaked. That little toy’s been working overtime, huh?”

You nod, desperate, a choked sound breaking in your throat. You want to beg. Want to scream. Want to come and die and live again all in one breath. Paige just chuckles.

“Oh no,” she purrs, her lips brushing your neck. “You don’t get to come just because you need it.”

The hand at your hip tightens. She lifts the hem of your dress slowly, dragging the silk up your thighs, exposing more and more ruined skin until the cool air kisses your slick folds and the faint metallic glint of the plug winks in the mirror. Her eyes meet yours in the reflection, hunger coiling deep in the burnished gold of her stare.

“You get to come,” she whispers, “when I say you come.”

She drops to her knees. Your hips jerk as her hands spread you open, rough palms skating up the insides of your thighs. Her mouth—God, her mouth—is hot and brutal when it lands on your clit, tongue pressing firm against the vibrator’s head, the added pressure making your knees buckle. She moans into you, devours like she’s starved, licking and sucking with calculated cruelty, the vibrations driving deeper under the intensity of her touch.

You’re gasping, broken little whines spilling from your lips as her tongue works you open, the plug inside you shifting with every tremor, every pulse. Her grip bruises your hips, nails digging crescent moons into your skin as she pulls you back onto her face like she owns it. Like you’re not allowed to escape.

You don’t want to. You want to come. Want to shatter.

She stops.

The silence hits like a slap. Your body trembles, needy, on the very edge of ruin—and Paige just stands. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes glittering with something feral. You watch her in the mirror, desperate, wrecked.

“On your knees,” she commands.

You drop. The floor is cold tile against your knees. Your thighs are twitching, trembling, drool slicking the corner of your lips just from the aftertaste of her tongue on your cunt. And Paige stands tall above you—tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease her inked collarbone, her strap already bulging thick beneath her slacks, ready.

She unzips. You whimper.

“Open wide, baby.”

Your mouth drops before she finishes the sentence. Tongue out, lips parted, already drooling down your chin, desperate for it. Paige fisting your hair is the only warning you get—then she feeds it to you in one slow, deliberate thrust. Her cock hits the back of your throat before your reflex even wakes up.

You choke.

“That’s it,” she growls, holding you there, her hips flush with your lips, her grip tightening until your scalp aches. “Fucking take it. You’ve been gagging on my attention all night, haven’t you? Look at you now—on your knees, plugged and soaked, and I haven’t even made you come yet.”

Your throat spasms around her, spit spilling free, dripping messily down your neck, your chest. She starts moving—slow thrusts that build, in and out, in and out, then faster, harder, until your head’s bobbing like a toy on a string, her grip controlling every inch. Your mascara smears, tears spilling as she fucks your face without mercy.

“Sloppy little cockdrunk whore,” she snarls, slapping your cheek with the flat of her hand when you gag too hard. “You like being used like this? Don’t answer. I know you do.”

Your eyes roll. Your throat stretches. The tip of her strap punches into your resistance with every brutal thrust, and still you moan. You moan around it like you love being used, like you need it deeper. Paige’s eyes flash with something dark, primal.

She spits. Right in your mouth. Doesn’t stop fucking your face even when the mess dribbles out again.

“Swallow. Good cumslut always swallows.”

Then she yanks you off. Just enough for a ragged breath, your tongue lolling, chin and chest shiny-wet, and before you can suck in oxygen—

SLAP.

Her palm cracks across your cheek. You whimper once again, drained.

“God, you’re pathetic. Can’t go five fucking minutes without drooling like a bitch in heat. Get up.”

Your legs barely obey. The plug’s still inside you, throbbing in time with your clit, the toy still buzzing—a wicked low pulse that’s kept you riding the knife’s edge of orgasm for so fucking long. She shoves you hard against the stall door, yanks your wrists behind your back and holds them with one hand, the other dragging your dress up again.

And then her mouth is on your ass. Her teeth bite your cheek, her tongue licks the base of the plug.

“Oh my god—Paige—!”

Her chuckle is low and mean. She spits again, this time between your cheeks, letting the wet drip down the base of the toy. Then she licks it—slow, nasty, devouring. Her tongue circles the plug, and then presses against your hole, licking around it, fucking into it until you’re moaning like a fucking animal.

“Filthy little anal slut,” she breathes, slapping your ass so hard you jump. “You want me to fuck you here instead? Make you come with nothing in your pussy at all?”

You shake your head. She slaps you again.

“Wrong answer.”

Then her fingers slip between your folds. One slap to your clit, and your knees buckle.

“Look at this fucking mess,” she murmurs, fingers sliding through the slick heat of your folds. “You’re gushing and you haven’t even come. Ruined your panties, ruined your dress, ruined yourself. Just a broken, desperate little thing waiting to be bred.”

You whine. Your voice is gone. But your body screams—hips jerking back, needy for anything, everything.

“Beg for it,” she growls, pulling your head back by your hair. “Beg for your orgasm. Beg like a fucking bitch.”

“Please, Paige—please—fuck, I need to come—I’ll do anything—”

“Anything?”

She steps behind you again, lines the slick cock up with your soaked pussy. The stretch hits instantly, wide and mean and so deep your eyes cross. She doesn’t give you time to adjust. She just slams in. Hips crashing into yours. Your voice breaks on a scream.

Then—she twists the vibrator inside you higher. The plug pulses. The cock rams deep. You explode.

You don’t just come—you implode. Screaming, sobbing, squirting all over the floor, her thighs, your own. She holds you down by the hair as your legs collapse, fucking into your orgasm with vicious, unrelenting force. You scream her name, voice ragged, throat raw, body twitching.

She doesn’t stop.

“Oh no, baby. We’re not done.”

One hand grabs your throat, choking you just enough to feel your pulse stutter. The other slaps your clit. Over. And over. And over.

You squirt again.

“That’s it,” she growls, voice right in your ear. “Give me everything. You’re not leaving this bathroom until you’re empty.”

Your knees are still shaking. Your slick coats your inner thighs, streaked down to your calves, puddled on the floor under you in obscene splashes. The plug’s still in. The vibrator’s still buzzing, just low now, like a sick little reminder of everything she just did. You can barely lift your face from the cold, come-smeared tile. Mascara tears painted down your cheeks, lips swollen, your cunt raw and twitching from being fucked through three—four?—mind-shattering orgasms.

Paige is fixing her collar like nothing happened. Cool. Composed. Buttoning up her shirt with smooth fingers, wrist flicking her tie back into place, slipping her belt through the loops like she didn’t just break you over her strap and leave you leaking like a used toy. The scent of sex clings to the air thick as heat. But she doesn’t even look mussed.

You finally find your voice—barely.

“P-Paige—”

“Shhh.” Her tone slices through the haze. Calm. Cold. Final. “You’ll clean up when you’re back at the table.”

She slides the remote into her pocket with a quiet click that still makes your thighs twitch, and crouches down just long enough to tug your ruined dress down your hips again. Not fixing your hair. Not bothering with your makeup. She wants them to see. Wants you walking back out into that restaurant wrecked, ruined, dripping like a whore who just got used in a public restroom and liked it.

She leans in, breath brushing your temple.

“Get up, baby.”

You do. Fuck, you do, legs wobbling, cum still leaking with every step. The plug shifts. The vibrator hums. You shudder. Your cunt pulses around emptiness.

“You’re not done yet,” she says, brushing invisible lint off her slacks. “I’ve still got dessert coming. And so do you.”

She reaches over, grabs your chin, makes you look up at her. Her thumb brushes your spit-slick bottom lip—then presses in. Makes you suck. You moan, automatic.

“Good girl.”

Then she turns. Unlocks the bathroom stall. Walks out. Just like that. No looking back. No waiting. Not even a final command—just the click of her boots as she strides back toward the table, calm as ever, as if she hadn’t just turned you into a dripping, shaking, breathless thing.

And now it’s on you. To fix your hair. To wipe your mouth. To walk out there soaked, flushed, plug inside you, vibrator still on, heels clicking through your shame.

To follow. Like a good girl.

#uconn #paige bueckers uconn #bueckets #paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader

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starkeyisthelastname · 10 months ago

Note

Need mutual masturbation with stepbro rafe 🤠 leading in just rubbing but "accidentally" put in

he just can’t help himself 🙄💕

It was in your pretty pink bedroom of all places. Your gorgeous self was laid on the silky sheets, naked except for a pair of white lace panties. Rafe was in complete awe, rubbing his hard-on in the boxers he wore. It was taking everything in him not to pull his cock out and shove it in your tiny hole, instead watching your manicured hands slowly run down your body. He sniffed, blue eyes raking over your figure as those ridiculous acrylics came to the hem of your panties. His face remained unfazed as he gave you a nod.

“Those off too. I wanna watch you touch your pussy.” He said bluntly, trying to hide his excitement.

You nervously pulled them off, closing your legs once the material fell on the floor. You shouldn’t be letting your stepbrother see your most intimate parts, but Rafe kept telling you he knew best and you didn’t know any better but to listen to him. Your poor cunt was betraying you as well, juices leaking down to your little puckered hole as he took his hands and spread your legs open.

Rafe couldn’t help but gawk at your puffy folds. His stepsister’s pussy was the prettiest cunt he had ever seen and he had to put his dick into it. His hooded eyes traveled back up, noticing the nervous look on your face. “Don’t be scared. Yeah? I know you play with yourself. Lemme see.” He said, deciding not to admit completely that he had watched you masturbate a time or two.

Your glittery nails slowly began rubbing yourself, letting out a sigh as you circled over your aching clit. You were embarrassingly soaked, running your fingers down your slippery folds. Your heavy eyes slipped close, sliding a digit in your tight hole as you let out a whine. You didn’t even hear Rafe pulling off his boxers, until he tapped your cheek. “Watch me stroke my cock while you touch yourself.” He rasped out, wrapping his hand around his fat length.

Your eyes fluttered open, the view of your stepbrother with his bangs in his face, abs on display and big cock in hand made you whimper. He jerked his cock slowly, blue irises glued to you as you fingered your cunt. He was losing control, the ache running to his nuts as he wanted to fuck you hard. “Rub your clit for me.” He said, stepping closer. He was about to do real naughty shit to his stepsister.

As your fingers traveled up to rub your clit, your stomach tensed as you felt the head of his cock touch your folds. “Rafe.. what are you doing?” You squeaked out, digits slowing down on your pearl.

“Shh… keep rubbing that shit for me.” Rafe spat out, running his cock up and down your juicy folds. He knew exactly what he was about to do and just couldn’t hold himself back. His tip slid in, his eyes nearly rolling back as he felt your hole immediately grip his dick. “Oh shit.. my bad sis.” He mumbled, holding back a smile as he pushed himself in a little further.

Your mouth fell open and eyebrows furrowed as you felt his huge cock start to stretch you out. He said nothing about doing this and you didn’t even know how to react. You weren’t sure if you even wanted him to stop, you felt more full than you ever could have imagined. “What are you?… Y-you’re so big.” You jumbled out, head dizzy as he continued to cram himself inside your tight cunt.

Rafe had never felt anything more perfect, wet or tight in his entire life. He didn’t care whatsoever that his father or sisters could walk in, all he wanted to do is pound his little slut of a stepsister’s amazing fucking pussy. “I know baby, I am big and you gotta tiny fuckin’ pussy.” He grunted, burying himself all the way in. There was no way he was ever letting you out his sight again, he had you now and was gonna ruin your life. “Be a good slut and take your stepbro’s cock in your pretty hole.” His tone commanding, his hand coming to wrap around your throat to make you absolute lose it.

#rafe cameron #stepbro!rafe cameron #stepbro!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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salthusiast · 18 days ago

Text

Violent Love Language

No Goggles Mark x GDA Agent Female Reader

Summary: After being sent on a quick mission by Cecil, you catch the attention of one of the variants.

Word Count: 6.4k

Invincible Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and blood. Also death (nobody important don’t worry).

“What is going on?!” You hear Cecil’s voice appear behind you. He must really like that teleporter.

“It appears that multiple versions of Invincible have entered our dimension.” You say, clearing your stack of papers. You know Cecil is going to make you work for that paycheck today.

“No shit, many are we talking?” He asks.

“Sixteen, sir.” You reply, attempting to pull up any cameras you can access on your computer. You pull up the ones from the prison and see some weird Mohawk version of Invincible.

“Huh, well, that’s not what I expected.” You blink, taken aback briefly by the difference.

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like. We need to figure out how to stop them. Get every superhero on the planet out there.” Cecil commands.

You nod, getting ready to notify all the teams Cecil has at his disposal, which is a lot.

“Donald, come with me,” Cecil says, walking toward the door before pausing at the door and calling your name.

You whip your head toward him, confused if you heard him correctly, “Yes, you come too.” He snaps.

You don’t want to piss him off more than he already is. You can’t imagine that dealing with a crisis like this is very fun. You’re stressed out with your current position, so you can’t imagine being the GDA director.

“Everybody else, make sure that at least some heroes are trying to stop every single Invincible,” Cecil calls out before turning back toward the door, you and Donald following suit.

“I called you for a special mission. I tried to keep it on the down low as much as possible. However, with current circumstances, I need a favor.” The three of you continue to walk down the hallway.

You start to feel a little anxious, “Whatever you need, sir. Will it be dangerous?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, “Usually no, but right now potentially.” He sighs. “I am trusting you with this job. It could potentially save millions of lives if you’re successful.”

Geez, no pressure. You feel yourself start to sweat, “If it saves lives, it is worth it. What is it you need me to do, sir?” You ask.

Cecil brings you to a new room, “You’re going to be looking for a black suitcase. In that suitcase, there will be about twenty small devices in there. They’re experimental, but hypothetically, they should be useful in dealing with Viltrumites. They’re portable versions of the chips that we implanted into Mark. They have a working radius of around fifty miles out.”

You gape at him; you can't help but feel bad for Mark. You don’t know him personally, but he seems to be a good person. Cecil had made these intending to stop this dimension’s Mark, not other ones.

“Judge all you want about it, but it’s our best hope,” Cecil says, grabbing a watch-looking device. You recognize it immediately.

“Sir, where exactly is this located?” You ask, putting on the device.

Cecil looks at you solemnly, “Guardians HQ. If you’re lucky, you can find it and be in and out in five minutes. However, realistically, you’re going to have to pass all the security checks, which require everybody here to approve.” He sighs.

“I won’t lie, kid. There’s a large chance one of these Invincible variants will be there. If that’s the case, we’ll try and get you out of there. We’ll be monitoring from here.” Cecil gestures between himself and Donald.

You nod, “Yeah,” You take a deep breath, “Okay. Wait, so I get to use the teleporter?” You ask, feeling a little excited.

“Yes, you should just be going there and back,” Cecil explains, motioning for Donald to get everything ready.

“This isn’t coming out of my paycheck right…” You admire the watch. It looks simple, but you know this is very expensive. Cecil stares at you unamused.

“Uh, okay, I’m ready. How does this— OH MY GOODNESS-” You feel yourself stumble as you land in Guardians HQ.

“Woah…” You look around, you haven’t been here before, not being a superhero. “Damn, really wish he gave me some idea of where it could be.” You mumble to yourself.

You look around the vast room, noticing a large desk. “Guess I’ll start here.” You rummage around briefly, not seeing anything catch your eye.

You spend the next ten minutes just trying to find the suitcase. Was Cecil trying to get you killed? He could’ve at least pointed you in the right direction.

Eventually, you find a door; there isn’t anything special about it. You go to see if you can open it. You try to twist the handle, failing miserably. “Oh, come on.” You groan.

You look at the screen on the door handle’s keypad, which requires higher security access.

You turn around the room, “Uhh, if you guys can hear me, could you maybe unlock the door?” You point at it, feeling stupid.

Suddenly, a loud crash resonates in the room. You immediately try to find cover, but you’re standing out in the open.

“Ah damn, I thought they’d be here.” You hear Invincible say, but you know it’s not the one you know.

You slowly try and inch away out of sight. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he won’t see you?

“Cecil, I know you’re watching.” Not Mark announces in a sing-song tone. “Here! Let me get rid of all these cameras for you.”

You watch as this Mark variant destroys every camera. Damn, you were relying on those.

You try and see if there are any differences between this Mark and the one you know. He seems to have the older costume. Other than that, there doesn’t appear to be any differences in it.

You squint, trying to see. Oh, no goggles, that's a choice.

Just as you try and find a spot to cover, you hear him laugh loudly, “Oh, ho! Look who we have here!” He calls your name out. You stiffen. How does he know you?

“It really is you! Damn, I started to actually miss you. I killed you in my world, you were a reallll challenge.” He floats just above you. You feel a little pathetic crouched down beneath him.

“Is that so?” You counter, feigning confidence. Cecil, where are you? You take a quick glance at the watch, hoping it'll activate, but it doesn't.

“Oh yeah, for sure! I was so sad when I killed you. I got you to scream for hours. You lasted so long. It was soooo cool.” He gestures excitedly. You nod as if interested. Keep him busy, somebody’s gotta come eventually.

“How nice.” You reply sarcastically. Not Mark nods enthusiastically, not noticing the sarcasm.

I still remember what you sounded like. “God, I can’t believe I get a second opportunity to do it.” He lands right in front of you.

“Woah, uh, maybe take a step back.” You step back, creating distance. You feel unnerved by the wide grin on his face.

“Oooh, setting up the match, huh? We’re getting serious. Okay, okay, I’ll play along!” He gets into a fighting stance. You stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“For somebody who seemed to enjoy torturing me so much, I’m surprised I’m only the second version to have the honor to fight you.” You can feel yourself start to sweat. You are running out of ways to stall him.

“I know. I mean, I wanted to conquer other dimensions,” He waves a hand casually, “but this is fun too.”

You see a shift in the lighting above. You subtly glance up, finally somebody’s here. You can’t tell who it is, but you can see it’s not an Invincible.

“Hmm.. yes, fun.” You reply uninterested. “You know what else is fun?” You ask, moving closer.

He starts to grin wider, getting into a more serious position, “What?”

You push him down the stairs, catching him off guard. You got lucky there. If he wanted to resist that, he definitely could’ve. You see the Guardians descend from the ceiling, restraining him.

You look towards the open door, which was locked earlier. You run towards it.

“Hey! AGH!” You hear him get hit. “DUDE IT WAS A ONE V ONE! RESPECT THE MATCH!” You hear him yell across the room. Ha.

You grab the suitcase waiting in the room, watching as the Guardians attempt to knock him unconscious.

You frown, “You guys need him alive or something?” You ask, watching them beat down on Not Mark.

“Yeah, Cecil thinks he’s our best shot at getting answers.” You hear Darkwing reply. You nod, “Alright then. Not my business.” You start to walk away, “Wait, before I leave, can I do something?"

All the Guardians look at each other, “Sorry, it’ll just take a moment.” You set the suitcase down, taking a heel off your foot.

You throw it as hard as you can at Not Mark, hitting him dead in the eye. “Hey! What’d you do that for?!” He frowns pettishly.

You grab the suitcase, picking it up again. You adjust yourself before looking him dead in the eye with a straight face, “Fun.”

You turn around to walk away from the Guardians, feeling the odd sensation of being teleported once again.

All the Guardians watch, flabbergasted. “She’s got guts.” Darkwing breaks it, amused. Immortal nods, “Let’s just knock this guy out. There’s still more out there.”

Not Mark remains on the floor, awestruck. How did this human come in here, trick him into an ambush, and then have the audacity to hit him? His eyes linger on where you teleported away.

It was at this moment that he decided he would meet you again.

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

“That was a bold move, kid.” You hear Cecil’s voice. You look up, still nauseous from the teleportation, and his arms are crossed.

“He killed another version of me.” You justify, handing him the suitcase. “Even if I don’t have super strength to beat him up, I wanted to at least hit him for what he did. I would’ve slapped him, but I’m not stupid enough to go into neck snapping range.”

“Whatever," He sighs, "it’s done now. We’ll try and send these out with some teams. They should at least reduce the damage that could be done.” Cecil says, opening the suitcases. He grabs one of the devices.

“What about Mark, sir?” Donald asks, frowning.

“If you can get in contact with him, tell him to get off the planet. Otherwise, it’s a small price to pay for the greater good. He’ll recover, humanity may not.” Cecil replies. Donald nods and goes back to typing.

Cecil turns toward you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Good work, kid. Sorry that you had to deal with that.”

You shrug, “It’s okay, he didn’t actually get the chance to do anything.” You reply. “What are you planning on doing with him? Are you sure you can restrain him?” You ask, frowning.

“We’re planning on implanting the same chip that Mark had into him. Don’t worry, we have a plan for what to do with him. We might be able to extract some answers out of him eventually.” Cecil sighs. “I don’t even know if we’ll be able to rehabilitate him.” He shakes his head.

You know this is what Cecil does. While you may find some moral issues in using villains, you know this is how he works. There’s nothing you can do to change that.

You nod, “It’s worth a shot, sir.” You reply. “If we can have two Invincibles out there, that’d be a huge advantage.”

“Yeah, that’s if he will change. These variants seem pretty set in their ways.” Cecil watches Donald work. “One step at a time. We need to get answers out of him first.”

You nod, “Probably a good idea.”

Cecil turns back to you before dismissing you back to your desk, “Thank you for your help.”

You nod, “Of course, sir. Call me anytime.”

—

“You sure he won’t wake up?” Darkwing asks, looking nervously at the body of the unconscious Invincible slung over Immortal’s back.

Duplikate walks up next to them, “I doubt it. If he does, Cecil told us he has a backup. We can also knock him out again.”

“We were lucky. If he wasn’t caught off guard, then we would not have knocked him out. He would’ve killed us all.” Darkwing responds solemnly.

Immortal slides the variant into the special cell that Cecil told them to put him in.

“Thank you, Guardians.” A scientist comes up to them, locking the special prison cell. “You needn’t worry about him escaping. You are free to go.” He smiles.

The Guardians nod before rushing out of the Pentagon. Cecil walks into the room. “Is he up yet?” He asks.

The scientist shakes his head, “No, sir. We expect he’ll wake up in the next few minutes, though.” He taps his pen on the clipboard.

“Good, all safety measures have been checked, yes?” Cecil asks. The scientist nods, “Yes, sir. He will not be escaping.” He responds. The two watch as the Invincible starts to stir.

“Agh, my head… Hey, where am I?” He looks around before making eye contact with Cecil. “You seriously think that I can’t escape this?” He sounds amused. He slowly stands up, walking up to the front of his cell.

“Perhaps, but you will regret your attempts,” Cecil replies, his voice betraying nothing.

The Invincible variant laughs, taking off his mask. “You had me knocked out, why not kill me?” He puts his finger through the mask and spins it.

“You aren’t in a position to be asking questions.” Cecil narrows his eyes.

The variant suddenly slams into the front of the cell where Cecil and the scientist stand. The scientist flinches back, but Cecil remains still.

“You truly think. I can’t kill you right now?” He laughs. “All it takes is— ARGH!!” He immediately falls down onto the ground, gripping his head.

Cecil presses the button once again, cutting out the noise playing in the Invincible’s ear. “Like I said, you’re not in a position to be asking questions.” The variant looks up at him, the amused smile gone from his face.

"Now tell me why you’re here,” Cecil demands.

The variant wipes the blood from his suit, “I’m not tellin’ you shit.” He smears the blood on his fingers to the ground. Suddenly, he says your name, the smile returning to his face.

“What?” Cecil asks, confused. “How do you know her?” He asks.

“Does it matter?” The variant rolls his eyes. “Where is she? I want to talk to her.”

“Sorry to say, we can’t do that.” Cecil didn’t sound very sorry.

The variant clicks his tongue, “Damn, guess you’re not getting a word out of me then.” He leans against the wall smugly.

“You can rot in this cell then,” Cecil replies.

The variant snaps and then does finger guns, “Oooh, so you see, that won’t work.” He laughs loudly. “I mean you’ll die eventually. I have centuries to escape, and trust me...”

He leans towards the wall, placing his hands against it, “It will not take me a century to escape. You’re lucky if you last a week.” He pushes away from the wall, pacing in his room.

“Now, if you want answers. Bring her. It’s a win-win. I get the girl, you get your answers!” He grins widely, as if that’s a very fair deal.

Cecil sighs.

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

“Uh, what is it you need, sir?” You ask your boss over the phone.

“It appears that the Invincible variant we captured refuses to answer any questions,” Cecil responds, annoyed, looking over toward the variant, who is grinning with two giant thumbs up.

“Okay..?” You respond, not liking where this is headed.

“I hate to involve you again, kid, but he will only answer questions if you are there,” Cecil replies exasperated.

You are frozen for a moment; this monster almost killed you. Why on Earth could he possibly want to talk to you?

“..Which cell is he in?” You eventually concede. You can hear Cecil sigh in relief.

“Thank you, he’s in cell two hundred forty-three,” Cecil informs you.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” You tell him before you hang up.

You grab all your stuff and begin your long trek to the special prison Cecil has. It’s supposed to be able to withstand anything, but after seeing Omni-Man take a nuke, you aren’t certain.

You eventually get down to that level, and the security asks for your identification. You scan your card before walking in. You see Cecil and Donald standing at the end of the row.

You slowly approach, “There she is! I was wondering if you were gonna show!” You hear Not Mark (at this point, that’s his new name) call.

“How long do I need to be here for?” You whisper to Cecil.

“Long enough to figure out why they’re here and who sent them,” Cecil responds, matching your volume.

“You got your wish, now can you answer our questions?” Cecil asks, crossing his arms.

“Mmmm, I don’t know.” He looks at you and frowns. “I thought it was just gonna be me and her.” He looks disappointedly at Cecil.

You and Cecil share a look, you nod at each other, before he looks down shaking his head. “Everybody out! You get ten minutes with her, nothing more.” He states before the area clears out.

You shift uncomfortably, he is just watching you. He seems content just to stare at you.

“What?” You ask, feeling scrutinized by his stare. He looks up at you, “You’re amazing.” He replies breathless.

You raise an eyebrow, “I’m amazing. After you told me that the other version of me you tortured was one of the best things you’ve done? Hate to break it to you, but I am just a normal person.” You cross your arms, looking at him. “I think you’ve noticed that already.”

He nods, “Of course I have. She was strong, sure, but you. You played me like a fool. When you hit me with that shoe at the end? Way to leave a guy with a cliffhanger.” He mockingly swoons.

You look at him unimpressed. “Very funny. Now we don’t have much time, so please just cooperate and answer these questions. It saves us both trouble.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Of course. What do you want to know?” He sits on the ground, criss cross, looking up at you like you hung the moon.

You ignore his gaze, “Why are you here?” You ask.

“Well… You see, I got into a fight with the Guardians. Oooh, I was so looking forward to actually fighting them. Instead, I met you.” He rests his elbows on his knees, holding his face with his hands.

“I was so enraptured by your presence that I got caught off guard.” He holds his hands out. “Now, I’m in prison.”

You look at him, glaring. “You know what I meant.”

He frowns, “Not big on jokes? We were chatting perfectly fine earlier.” He says to himself. You exhale annoyed.

“Sheesh, just playing! Okay, so this guy, right? He promised me the most fun dimensions for me to take over.” He shifts his weight onto his side.

“What was his name?” You ask.

“Angstrom Levy.” He says, and you freeze. “Oh, you’ve met?” He asks.

“Not personally, but I’ve heard stories.” You look down. “What exactly did he ask you all to do?” You ask.

“Eh, something about making everyone here fear Invincible. It seemed like he just wanted chaos, which I didn’t mind one bit.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

“How long are you guys meant to do this for?” You ask.

He shrugs, “Until he says stop, I guess.”

“And when would that be?” You walk up closer to his cell. He stands up, meeting your gaze. His eyes glance down at your lips.

“I…” He stares at your face, “have no idea.”

You frown, “Helpful.”

“I try to be.” He grins.

You shake your head, rubbing your temples. This is way above your paygrade. “So, let me get this straight: Angstrom Levy brought over a dozen different versions of yourself,” He nods, “and he just told you guys to ‘cause chaos.”

“Sounds about right.” He starts spinning his mask with his fingers again.

“And in return, he’d give you dimensions to conquer?” You frown.

“Yeeep.”

“So you have no idea why he wants you guys to cause chaos?” You lean up against the cell. He leans against his cell, too, mirroring your action.

“To be honest, I didn’t particularly care.” He taps his finger against the cell. “But, I do know the me of this dimension did something to piss him off.”

You think back to the whole incident with the Mauler Twins and the other incident where Mark almost killed him. “Oh.” You respond.

“‘Oh?’” He quotes. “You gonna share with the class?”

“I thought I was the one asking questions.” You look at him.

“And I answered! Come on, throw me a bone here, will you?” He grins at you, looking far more innocent than you know him to be.

You look at him unimpressed.

“Please?! Come on. There’s nothing fun around here. You’re my only source of entertainment right now.” He leans against the wall dramatically.

“Glad to know I’m contributing to your lack of entertainment.” You respond, detached.

“Aha! There she is! I was wondering if you left all your personality back where we met.” He snaps his fingers and does finger guns at you.

You look at him blankly. “Cecil will be back any moment now.” You begin to walk away.

“Wait, wait!” He calls out, and you pause.

“Will you come and visit me?” He asks, giving you false puppy dog eyes. You know if he wasn’t in that cell, he’d probably kill you.

You scoff but find yourself smiling, “Why, so I can be a source of entertainment for you?” You ask, walking back to his cell. He walks up to where you are, and you both stare each other down.

“Perhaps.” He grins.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look like you’re getting answers out of him.” Cecil walks in. You immediately distance yourself from the cell, breaking eye contact with Not Mark. He doesn’t move from where you two had your little staring competition.

“Forgive me, sir.” You look away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I did get answers, though.” You consciously ignore Not Mark, who is waving at you both to try and get your attention.

“We heard,” Cecil responds dryly, he does sound a bit amused though. He puts his hand on your shoulder, “Thanks for your assistance. Sorry we had to bring you out again for.. him.” You both turn to look at Not Mark, who grins innocently.

“Yeah, no problem.” You say, feeling as if it were very much a problem.

“Wait, Cecil, is she allowed to visit me?” Not Mark asks, butting into your conversation.

“That’s up to her.” Cecil says, at the same time you say, “It’s prohibited.”

You look at Cecil, distressed. “What? It pays to be in his good graces.” Cecil whispers to you.

“Yeah? What’s his good graces? Not breaking out and killing everyone?” You respond frustrated. Cecil raises an eyebrow before looking over at Not Mark. “Fair enough.” You sigh despondently.

“I can hear you two.” Not Mark comments helpfully.

You look at Cecil, and he nods. “You can head back now.”

You nod, “Thank you, sir.” You start to walk away, ignoring Not Mark’s cries of “Wait!” and “Don’t go!”

You walk past the security, giving a nod of acknowledgement. You walk into the elevator.

Once you arrive on the floor, you were supposed to be on (before all of that happened). You sit down at your desk, grabbing your stack of papers you threw aside earlier.

“How are the Guardians doing, or all the teams for that matter?” You ask your coworker, Bryan, casually.

He groans. “We’ve already seen at least three be eliminated or seriously injured.”

“Teams? Like they killed off entire teams?” You ask, shocked.

He nods, “Yep. Down and out.” He types frantically on his keyboard.

“…Have we managed to kill any of the Invincibles at all?” You ask hesitantly, unsure if you want to know the answer.

“At the moment? Four.” He responds.

“Oh, that’s more than I expected.” You look around the panicked room. Every person around you is frantically working. Crazy to think that not even 10 minutes ago you were talking to one of those Invincibles while everybody up here was stressing.

“Did you find out any valuable info from the one we captured?” Bryan asks.

“Not much. Levy sent him.” You start to log in to your computer.

“Levy? As in Angstrom Levy?” He asks, flabbergasted.

“Yep.” You pop your lips. “Turns out Mark didn’t kill him.”

“From what I heard, there was no way anybody could survive that.”

“Well, apparently he did. He wants revenge on Mark, I think.” You respond.

“Great, so he brought sixteen different Invincibles in order to kill our Invincible.” He sighs, pausing in his typing.

“Eh, basically. Apparently, they won’t stop causing damage until told to by Levy himself.” You tell him. “The captured one didn’t even know when that’d be.”

“Oh, so they could go on until they destroy the world?” Bryan laughs humorlessly.

“Yeah. I have no idea when—”

A loud crash resounds in the room. You and Bryan whip your heads around, looking at the giant hole in the ceiling. You look and see an Invincible floating over the rubble.

You quickly glance at Bryan before you both scurry out of the room. You start to run out when…

“HOLY SHIT!” You hear him yell. You turn around to look at him, narrowly missing the body that was flung inches in front of your face.

You stare in horror, watching as employee after employee is murdered. You begin to run again.

“Ugh damn it…” You frantically yank your heels off your feet. You run off to the exit. You, Bryan, and a few other coworkers manage to escape that room, but you can still hear the screams from where the crash was.

“Where is Cecil?!” Somebody asks. You shake your head. “Probably dealing with the other one we captured.” You groan. This Invincible is probably here to break that one out of prison.

“Let’s go, it’s safer in the halls than it is here.” You look at the remaining people, who nod. You start to run out again before the wall on your left explodes.

“Other way, other way!” You yell, panicked. You push back against the remaining people. They start to head in the other direction.

“Are all of you guys okay?” You ask. Out of the thirty of you in that room, seven (including you) made it.

“We should’ve just let him go.” You hear a coworker mumble, and everybody turns to look at them. “What? Am I wrong? This never would have happened if we didn’t keep that other one hostage.” You hear some murmurs of agreement.

“We don’t know that. The Pentagon might’ve been a target regardless of the Invincible we kept.” You frown, shaking your head.

“Yeah? Well, we can’t be too sure, can we? How about we find out, huh?” The worker pushes past you all, heading back into the original room.

“What are they doing?” Bryan asks. You all watch as they run to their death.

Suddenly, static cuts in from the PA speakers: “Cell two hundred and forty-three is open.”

You all sit in silence for a bit before some people in your group begin to sob.

The door the worker ran into earlier opens, and you all watch as a head rolls through the door. It is the head of that worker.

You all look up in horror. The Invincible variant crushes the head of the worker before looking up.

You, being in the back, turn in the opposite direction. You think you’ll take your chances with random exploding walls over that. Bryan notices, and you motion him to be quiet, and duck so that the variant doesn’t see you two escape.

You both crouch, walking in the other direction. The group is still back there facing off against that Invincible. Do you feel bad for leaving them there? Yes, but you can’t dwell on it. It’s either all of you die, or some of you die.

You don’t even hear the screams of them, just the wet slap of their bodies hitting the blood-soaked floor. You flinch, knowing that you two are now in plain view.

“Bryan, Bryan, we have to ru—” You turn to look at your friend, but pause in horror. The variant stabbed his hand right through him. You cup your hands up to your mouth, holding back a sob. You look at the variant before attempting to sprint away. You feel yourself get slammed into the wall, and you let out a soft “Oof!”

You look up in fear, the Invincible’s goggles block you from seeing his eyes. You can feel the tears roll down your face at this point. You don’t say anything, just stare at him silently as he raises his hand to strike you down.

Suddenly, you’re thrown to the ground, out of the Invincible’s grip. You look up.

“Dude, what are you doing here? God, you ruined my whole plan.” Not Mark pouts petulantly.

“I wasn’t aware you were here.” The other Mark replies.

“Well?” He does jazz hands. “I am! Now get out.”

“Sure, whatever, just let me kill the human first. Angstrom said kill as many as possible.

Within an instant, Not Mark tackles the other one, sending a cloud of dust throughout the entire area. You cough, watching in both awe and horror. You attempt to stand up, but feel a sharp pain in your leg.

“Agh… shit.” You whimper, an action that seems to catch Not Mark’s attention. Within a millisecond, he’s in front of you, “Do you trust me?” He asks.

You blink at him, feeling the gust of wind from him speeding towards you. “Absolutely not!” You suck in air from the pain.

He grins, “Great.” He then grabs you bridal style before blasting into the air.

“OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You attempt to yell over the rushing wind. You feel yourself suffocating, unable to breathe with the high speed and rushing wind.

“Aw shit, forgot humans can’t breathe when I move this fast. You think you can last a little longer?” You hear him ask. You try and nod, but can barely move against the strong force.

Eventually, you come to a stop, he places you down gently on the ground. “Do not move. Go inside that building, I’ll be back shortly.” He points to a relatively run down looking building.

“What?! Where did you drop me off-” You watch him speed off back into the sky. “Unbelievable!” You yell out to nobody. Who is going to believe this happened to you today? Nobody!

“I’m not waiting here, asshole.” You grumble to yourself.

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

You sigh, waiting inside the building.

“How long is his definition of ‘shortly'? It’s been days.” You lean your elbows on your knees.

Luckily, despite its run down appearance the place Not Mark dropped you off at has running water and food.

It took you a while to actually try and consume any of it, but you decided that you didn’t want to die in the middle of nowhere. You’ll take your chances. Worst-case scenario, Cecil pays for your healthcare. He is the one who put you in this situation anyway.

Suddenly, the door gets thrown open. You jump back into the corner of the room you’re in. You hear Not Mark call your name.

“Hellooo? Anybody here?” You hear him approach you before looking directly at you. “There she is!” He walks up to you.

You grimace in disgust, looking at him. He’s covered from head to toe in blood.

“What’s wrong?” He frowns. “Do I have something on my face?” He asks.

You look him up and down again, “Blood.” You respond disgustedly.

He blinks, confused, “You don’t like the blood? I thought you’d like it.” He looks at the ground as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “I’ll be right back.” He zooms out of the room, the door shutting itself behind him.

You look at the spot he was just at, unimpressed. Suddenly, the door opens again, and his suit is clean. You furrow your eyebrows, “How’d you clean it?” You ask.

“Flew to space and back. It comes off.” He mentions casually, as if that’s normal. “Anyway, ready to head home?” He grins, looking at you, holding his arms out ready to carry you.

You look at him, suspicious.

He rolls his eyes, “Oh come onnnn. If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done that way earlier.” He raises a hand and waves it back. At your horrified expression, he elaborates, “I mean like… You know what I mean. I don’t want you dead. I kinda went out of my way to make sure you didn’t die.”

You nod, “Oh, yeah, okay… So I should just let you whisk me to who knows where.” You feign calmness.

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugs before grinning widely. “OOH, unless you want to give me your address.”

You stare at him, trying to discern whether he is serious. He stares back, smiling, looking like a dog begging for a treat.

“No!”

“Worth a shot.” He sighs dejectedly.

He carries you back, flying a lot slower this time, but still fast enough where you can’t bring yourself to talk in fear of choking on air or on a bug.

You feel him gaze at you a couple of times and pointedly ignore his stare. Suddenly, he pauses, slowing to a stop mid-air. “What’s wrong?” You ask, panic growing.

You see him groan before throwing out some earpiece in his ear. “Oh, they didn’t take that out when you entered the Pentagon?”

“I don't know, I should be asking you that.” He leans down to your ear. “Hold on tight.” He whispers.

“What? OH MY—” You see him attack something. It explodes in the air. You both watch the debris fall onto the earth.

“What was that?” You ask, unsure if you want to know the answer.

“Angstrom.” He says, pulling you closer before flying back where he was originally headed.

You go the rest of the flight in silence. It wasn’t like you could talk if you wanted to. The wind made it difficult.

“Andddd we’re here. Wow, we really did a number on this place.” You look down, seeing half the Pentagon decimated.

Out of nowhere, ReAnimen jump up into the sky. Not Mark drops you out of surprise. You feel yourself fall, closing your eyes and bracing for the impact. God, was this finally it? After everything you survived today?

A pair of arms catch you, and you open your eyes to see the singular red light of a ReAniman. You try to lean back away from the undead creature. You know they work for Cecil, but it doesn’t mean that you have to like them.

“Oh, good you’re alive. How’d you live?” Cecil asks. You feel yourself questioning for a moment if he is actually happy to see you alive. You turn toward Not Mark. He is fighting the ReAnimen.

“Woahh, I never fought these guys in my world. They’re kinda fun.” He slams five of them using the body of one he already killed. “I killed you before you got the chance to create them, but man, Cecil. Good stuff.” He hovers over them.

“He saved me.” You tell Cecil, not exactly sounding enthusiastic.

He raises an eyebrow, “From the other one that came?” He asks, you nod.

“Hm…” He pauses, looking at the ground before pointing at you suddenly.

“What?” You whisper.

All the ReAnimen slowly turn their heads toward you. “Wait, Cecil, what are you doing?” You ask, panic growing. He looks at you coldly. “Cecil…” You try again.

Not Mark, noticing the lack of new opponents looks down. He spots you getting circled before he immediately dives in and lands right behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” He asks coldly. The grin on his face from the fight earlier is nowhere to be seen.

Cecil suddenly holds his hand up, and all the ReAnimen halt. “I see.” He says to himself. He says your name, “I apologize for my actions just now. I just had to…” He looks at Not Mark, “test something.”

You look at Not Mark and then Cecil. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking what I’m thinking.” You look at Cecil in disbelief.

“What is it?” Not Mark asks right behind you. You step forward to create some distance between you two, and he steps forward to compensate.

“Say, how about you work for the GDA, Mark?”

You and Not Mark both gape at Cecil before both of you simultaneously cry out:

“Are you SERIOUS?!”

“Oooh.” Not Mark laughs loudly. “Yeah, absolutely not. Why would I ever work for you?”

Cecil looks at you, his eyes seem sympathetic, yet unapologetic. “You can work with her.”

So now here you are. Watching an evil version of Invincible shake hands with Cecil Stedman. The deciding factor? Getting to work with you. Truly, you’d feel flattered if it were anybody else.

“Soooo we’ll be in contact?” Not Mark grins at you, leaning into your personal space. You step away from him, but he follows.

“Kill yourself.” You deadpan.

He smiles wider, and you know he heard it. “Now, is that how you talk to the person who saved your life? Oh, and your new coworker.” He removes his mask.

You feel your eye twitch. Is this seriously your life now?

“Why the long face?” He mocks your traumatized expression before breaking character and laughing loudly. “Come on, let’s get to work!” He floats up, flying in circles around you in the air like a hyperactive dog.

“This is my life now.” You tell yourself, Not Mark nods because of course he heard you.

“Our life now.” He grins at you.

You groan.

Quick A/N: Yes, yes, I'll get back to writing for Viltrumite Mark. Unless you guys want more of this. Either way Viltrumite Mark pt 3 is up next :D

#invincible fanfic #no goggles mark x reader #no goggles mark #no goggles invincible #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson x you #invincible #Salty’s Silly Writing 🦦

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