#private devision

[neothespider]

I'm not the only person who thinks that the Kerbal Space Program theme is fire right?

[coconut530]

Do you love the color of my audio dramas? (I just wanted to see them in rainbow order I love them all everyone should go listennnnnnn)

[moleshow]

i'm not even a board certified obama defender but bro is cooking nothing here. bullshit or not, legislation which will put millions of people out of their jobs will never pass. this is not an Obama Thee Liberal problem, it's a legitimate policy question. this is clear to legislators but apparently not so much to people who post online for a living

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[hexescore]

oh and by the way, i love you.

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, sevika, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: first 'i love you's with (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. pre-established relationship (caitlyn, jinx, mel, viktor). friends-to-lovers (ekko, jayce, sevika, vi).

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

It's quiet, the early morning blessing you both with a peaceful silence that allows you two to truly appreciate the sight in front of you— each other. Caitlyn enjoys moments like this, waking up with you, getting to see the way the rising sun filters through her curtains to cast a golden glow across your skin.

Her hand, which is in yours, gives a gentle squeeze. You give her a sleepy smile, and she chuckles as she leans in to press a quick peck to your lips, and then another, and another, before you're both shuffling together, closer. Legs and arms entangled, a slowness in you both knowing that neither of you have to leave anytime soon.

"You know," She whispers, her eyes shut. She had imagined how she'd say this a million times, wondered when it'd be the right time, but Caitlyn quickly realizes that perhaps the right time is the time she makes to say it. So she makes the time. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you pull away to look at her. Her eyes open, and you can see the panic flashing in her eyes- was it too soon? did she get confused? had she-

"I love you, too." Her tense form immediately relaxes again, and she buries her head into your neck, shaking her head as she lets out a breathless laugh. You laugh along with her, both of you feeling nerves and excitement at those words.

"Don't scare me like that," she whines against your skin. Indulging this rare side of Caitlyn, you gently pat her back, cooing at her.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry, won't happen again." You'll definitely respond faster next time!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

EKKO

Ekko had been acting quite strange as of late, and had you been any less keen you'd just assume he was busy- but this was different, he was most definitely avoiding you! Which is why you devised a plan to corner him and get to the bottom of this whole situation.

It was like any other day, except you had been lying in wait. Waiting, and waiting, until he was finally alone. You continued to follow him to a secluded area. "Ekko." He tensed up, but recovered quickly as he turned to glance at you.

"Oh, uh, hey, what's up?" Was he serious? You cross your arms over your chest, giving him a pointed look. Ekko's guilty conscious is clear as day when it comes to you, from the way his Adam's apple bobs to the way his fist clench and unclench. You frown.

"Ekko..." He doesn't say anything. "Alright, I'll ask it. Why have you been avoiding me?" He falters, looking ashamed. He knew it was wrong to avoid you, but when he came to realize how intense his emotions were for you it freaked him out. He hadn't... He didn't mean to... well, fall in love, during such a time.

The silence is heavy, and you debate just leaving, before Ekko clears his throat. "There are things that I've been meaning to tell ya... I'm just having a hard time finding the words..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Like?" You press, needing to know what has been so hard to say that he's been avoiding you.

"Like... I love you?"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

"Jayce? What are you doing?" Jayce, with his hand respectfully on your lower back, guides you away from the boring and artificial conversations of Piltover's finest. He excuses you both, much to your dismay. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere private," He says through a tense smile. You soon find yourself down the hall, away from the party but still able to hear it's chatter. It seems Jayce hadn't prepared for what comes after he got you away from those flirty elites.

"Well?" You ask, head tilted in a questioning way. "Are you going to explain why you so rudely pulled me away? I was about to get some nice funding for your-" Jayce cuts you off, desperation rolling off of him in waves.

"Because I love you," He says, "And I can't stand to see them look at you, touch you-" He stops to take a deep breath before he gets himself too worked up. "Look, I know... I know you probably don't feel the same, and I understand if you don't, but-"

"Jayce," You call once, and like an obedient dog he stops everything he's doing. Instead he waits, hanging on to your words. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you pull him into a kiss. It's needy, filled with want and love and passion. Until you can't breath, you wait until you can't breathe to pull away, and look him in the eyes.

"I love you."

For the first time that night, Jayce's lips curl into a genuine smile. It's so bright and warm you get weak in the knees and butterflies in your stomach.

"Can we ditch the party now?"

"Oh definitely."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JINX

"Wrench!" Jinx calls dramatically, hand stuck out and awaiting her tool- which you promptly hand to her, repeating her words 'wrench.' She giggles as she grasps the wrench and twists a few bolts on her latest invention.

When she finishes, she takes in inhale of breath, ready to shout the next tool she needs, but already in her hand is a can of spray paint. She blinks a few times- how did you know? She grins, looking back at you, before looking at the can of spray paint.

"This is why I love you, ya know that?" She says, not really processing the words until you say them back to her.

"You... You love me?" The shock is evident in your voice. It's not that Jinx hasn't shown her love, her affections, for you, but this is the first time she's vocalized them and it has your heart hammering in your chest. She blinks a few times, lifting her goggles to rest on top her head.

"I did say that, didn't I?" She says, more to herself than to you. She then looks you in the eyes, that sparkle in them has your throat tightening up. "Yeah, I love you." You try to speak, truly, but you can't get a word out. "Jeez, is it that surprising, thought it was obvious?"

"No, it's just-" You finally manage to speak. Actually, you finally manage to get a good look at her. Her cheeks are a little flushed, she's fiddling with her tools, she's nervous- she's vulnerable- and you feel a protective instinct come on. "I love you, too- I really, really love you."

She laughs nervously, turning away from you. That's enough emotional vulnerability she's willing to share today. "Yeah, yeah, let's not get too mushy, 'kay?" You don't push it, instead nodding along. "Uh, anyways... Hand me that wrench again...!"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

MEL MEDARDA

"You don't have to say it back," Mel Medarda has always been diplomatic, even in your relationship. She's also always been rather guarded, keeping all her cards close to her chest- but she allows you from time-to-time to catch a peak behind her walls. "I just wanted to let you know. I... I love you."

Undoubtedly, you love her back. You've loved her from the moment she smiled at you- Mel was hard not to love. Which is why you're having a hard time responding, because how could you even possibly begin to explain just how much you love her?

Mel begins to grow withdrawn, those small anxieties nipping away at her mind. Did you not feel the same way? Had she embarrassed herself with her little display? Did she ruin this relationship in one phrase? She takes a step away from you, wondering if she should take her leave.

Thankfully before than can happen, you've caught her wrist and meet her eyes.

"I love you, too." A breath of relief leaves you both. "Mel, I... I can't even begin to explain, I mean, it's just that you... god, you, you definitely deserve a better response than this mess but, I mean it, truly. I love you. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. I'll always- I'll always love you."

"Darling..." Mel started to feel flustered, your earnest rambling getting her cool and collected persona to crack a little. "I get it."

"Right, sorr-" Before you can apologize for your cute, anxious rambling, Mel shuts you up with a kiss. Something that symbolizes that you both understand just how much you both mean to each other.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SEVIKA

Sevika can't help but crack a smile at your antics sometimes. She's watching you with a close eye as you dance in an exaggerated way, being goofy in a way that's so very rare in the undercity. She shakes her head as you sit in the seat across from her, wiggling your brows. "Dance with me?"

"Not a chance in hell." She snorts, "How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me." Sevika takes a drink, not noticing what she said. You, on the other hand, have gone still. "What's wrong with you now?" She asks, already exasperated.

"You love me?"

"What're you-... Shit." She definitely didn't mean to say that, but now that it's out there, she might as well commit. She downs the rest of her drink, clears her throat, and looks away from you.

"And if I do? Would that be a problem?"

"Not at all- I love you, too!" Your enthusiasm has her taken aback once more. She looks at you incredulously, searching your face for any sign of lying or messing with her. She finds nothing but genuine love. Shit, shit, shit. Sevika was so totally unsure on how to handle this.

"You love me, huh?" When you nod, eagerly, Sevika bites her cheek. Well... She supposes if it's you, she could try and give it a shot. "I guess, yeah, I do love you... so... what're we gonna do about that?"

You had a few ideas.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

"Yes, yes, I understand." Viktor says as he wraps the scarf you gifted him around his neck. "I'll be back tonight for dinner, not to worry." You don't really believe him when he says that, still you help him zip up his winter coat.

"If you're not," You say, taking a step closer, your lips hovering over his. "I'll personally drag you back here." Your lips meet his and he hums into the kiss, pulling away with a small smile.

"I'll be here." You just hum dismissively. You'll believe when you see it. He rolls his eyes at your sass, opening the door and stepping out. "Alright, I'll see you then. Goodbye, I love you." He closes the door, and just as quickly he's trying to pry it back open.

You're laughing your ass off on the other side of the door whilst Viktor's ears turn red. "Dear, please, open the door, I forgot my keys... and I need to say those words properly..." he groans, his head resting against the door. After a few seconds, the clicks unlock and it opens to reveal you, tears in your eyes from laughing.

"This is not funny."

"It's a little funny." You tease, handing Viktor his keys. "I lov-"

"Wait," He halts you. "Let me... Let me say it properly." His blush moves from his ears to his cheeks. He takes your hand and presses a sweet kiss to it, looking up at you through his lashes. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Viktor."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VI

You're patching her up after a particularly brutal beating. Her job, these missions, can get pretty violent, and it's always up to you to heal her wounds. 'I don't trust any other doctor,' she explains before you inform her that you are not a doctor. Despite that she still finds you after every fight she gets herself in.

You sigh, cleaning a nasty cut on her face. "You've got to be more careful." You tsk, reveling in the way she hisses at the disinfectant. It's what she deserves after scaring you to death all these times.

"Worried 'bout my pretty face?" You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

"More like your brain- I'm afraid you can't afford to lose anymore braincells." She laughs at your snark. She likes that about you, likes everything about you, actually. Her hands find your waist, pulling you closer to her. You huff, pulling back to get a better look at her wounds.

"Hey," Vi calls, and you just hum in response. "I love you." You freeze, before looking down at her with wide eyes.

"Did you actually get brain damage-" She bites back another laugh, shaking her head. "Vi...?"

"I love you. Have for a while, so no, this isn't a brain damage confession." Oh. You falter for a second, hands shaky as you finish placing the band-aid on her cheek.

"If you're messing with me-"

"I'm not." She insists, earnest in her affections. "So... Do you-"

"Yes." You mumble, turning your face to hide it from her. "I... Love you, too, Violet."

[vodkassassin]

Batcourt

Tim is sick of his family fighting, an occurrence which doesn’t always but enough times has nearly led to murder, that he devises a new method to deal with them and their petty (or serious, but usually petty) arguments: Batcourt

The first ever batcourt trial was to mediate an argument between Dick and Bruce, bc when Tim became Robin they were on the outs; Dick had moved out and was rebelling against his dad. They barely talked to each other, and when they did it was to argue.

Tim, being in the middle of all that, finally snaps and basically strong arms them into a impromptu “court session”, bc if they can’t be civil with each other in conversation they maybe they can at least be professional in this Thought Exercise.

He appoints Alfred as the unbiased jury, and then demands that both Bruce and Dick take five minutes to compile their cases against each other to present to the judge (Tim).

Both Bruce and Dick are incredibly unamused, but Tim has Alfred’s support, so they reluctantly go along with the charade. And…

It’s actually surprisingly effective.

The argument is hashed out without anyone coming to blows or a screaming match. They are all very mature about it and the argument is settled with both parties, if not happy, then mollified that they actually got to speak their parts and come to a conclusion that wasn’t unfair.

Alfred is very pleased with the results of the first batcourt trial, and give his blessing for this method to be used in the future.

And so it is. Tim is typically the Judge, as he is the mastermind behind the method and typically stays out of all arguments as much as he can, and is known to everyone to be extremely impartial when the others argue about anything. So 9 times out of 10, Tim’s judge, and uses a generating software program he developed and installed on his gauntlet (and civvy watch) to choose a jury to preside over a trial when one of the family members opens a case against someone else.

This eventually becomes just how the family resolves disputes.

If an argument comes forth and is starting to get too heated, whoever declares that they’d ‘like to submit a case to the batcourt’ is by default the prosecution, leaving the other party as defendant (these are just terms, this isn’t actually a court of law, this is just a method of resolving arguments, so both sides are heard). At this point, everyone usually turns to Tim, who appoints a jury and then tells the pros and def that they have five minute to compile and submit their evidence to the court.

It’s all very official, and the Rules of Batcourt is that everyone has to remain absolutely professional as if this were a real court case. This is to ensure nobody breaks the exercise, otherwise it won’t work.

Anyway it’s VERY effective, and is used for years in private.

Until a pair of them have an argument in the middle of an op in public and it’s getting in the way of taking out the villain…. So someone declares that they’d like to submit a case to the batcourt.

Of course any non-bat present is like “the what”

But all the bats present, being so used to using the batcourt method to hash out disagreements, automatically turn to Tim.

Anyway, Tim, by habit, immediately runs the jury program and appoints Spoiler and Black Bat as jury (the argument was between Red Hood and Nightwing, with Red Hood submitting the case and therefore the prosecution).

The rogue they were fighting (let’s choose a nicer one, Riddler maybe) is so confused at this point that they kind of stop in the middle of their scheme just to watch the the fuck is going on.

The bystander civilians and any reporters are also like “???” And so basically they all get to watch the first ever public batcourt trial.

(The jury ends up voting in favor of Red Hood, so Tim declares that Nightwing is Guilty “by the power vested in my by the Batclan” and Nightwing is sentenced to Apologizing to Red Hood - since the argument started because Nightwing wouldn’t get the fuck out of RH’s way and he kept almost shooting him lmao, it just went downhill from there. Brothers amirite.)

Anyway the video goes viral immediately, the Gotham internet going insane over the concept of how the vigilantes apparently resolve their arguments.

The riddler is so fascinated by what he just witnessed that he just accepts being taken back to jail for the meantime to mull things over (I love Eddie)

Now that the bat is out of the bag, so to speak, the Batclan submits cases to batcourt in public a few more times without thinking, and the public is very excited every time. Every case and verdict shows up in the next day’s paper, and it’s a Gotham Highlight. People love it.

And then it escapes containment. Because one day a rogue loudly declares that they would like to submit a case to the batcourt. Against Batman.

The present Batclan members all look at each other, and then to Tim, who is already running the jury appointment program without even thinking. It ends up choosing Riddler (who was also there) along with two civilians and a bat (Robin).

Tim blinks, then shrugs, and lets it happen.

So starts the Batcourt trial of the decade: Batman V Poison Ivy.

And Batman loses.

Ivy still goes to jail afterwards, being a criminal and all, but she does so victoriously. She has mad street cred after this. The public goes WILD.

Anyway what I am saying is that batcourt is a highly respected court of dispute in Gotham. The majority of trials are conducted between Batclan members, but there are rogues who have won (and lost) trials in batcourt, and even one very infamous instant where the GCPD submitted a case against Red Hood and subsequently lost when the mostly civilian jury declared him Innocent.

The police force having to then apologize to Red Hood made headlines so big that they broke Gotham City containment and made it into the outside world.

Which leads to the next famous batcourt case: Superman V Batman.

I have been thinking about this concept for weeks and it’s definitely going to be a running gag in all my batfam fics forever

Also we get to have this fun interaction

“Batcourt is now in session”

Batman: please don’t call it that

Tim: ahem

Batman, sighing: objection

Every single one of his kids, pointing at him like in ace attorney: overruled

[shuafiles]

poison [l.dh]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | you and haechan have a love for drama, so when things start feeling too predictable, you both devise a plan to keep the spark alive. but as real emotions creep in, you start wondering if you’ve taken it too far.

PAIRING | boyfriend!haechan x afab!reader

CONTENT | smut with no plot, mean girl reader, billionaire haechan, some degrading insults, haechan is a loser for reader, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff! honestly just reader getting lowk insecure and haechan getting mad that she thinks he wud replace her when he's so sickeningly in love with her

WORDS | 3.9k

A/N | inspired by blaire and chuck from gossip girl !!! not totally but kinda.

spotted. lee haechan’s eyes scanning the crowd for his next target. the loud music almost deafening. sweaty bodies on the dance floor. the smell of liquor filling the air. he leaned against the bar, swirling the ice around his drink, when he locked eyes with the woman standing across from him, clad in a tight red dress that caught his attention. she seemed to have been looking at him for a while because once he finally caught her eye, her lips formed a smile, slyly sending him a wave. this was perfect.

haechan raised his glass with a slight nod, making her presence known to him. with hips swaying in confidence, she strolled over to him. she leaned against the bar, yelling out her drink order to the bartender—as if she didn’t come here for one reason only. he nearly missed how she fixed her hair as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. this was all part of her game. good thing haechan loved to play.

haechan smirked, turning his body to face her. “put her drink on my tab.” haechan spoke, loud enough for the bartender to hear, nodding at his request as he continued making her drink.

“you didn’t have to.” the woman said, tucking her hair behind her ear. she gave haechan her name, but he was too disinterested to ask her to repeat it, nodding to her words.

“haechan.” he tilted his head towards her, his eyes dancing over her frame long enough to reel her in.

“i know you.” she giggled, sliding close to him, arms nearly brushing one another. “think everyone in this room does.”

of course, they would. who wouldn't? haechan was the youngest billionaire in the city, the type of man people dreamed of being or fucking. he knew she wasn’t the first person to be drawn by his reputation, and she definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“so, you’re just here… alone?” she asked, placing a hand on haechan’s arm. a bold move. biting her lips as an invitation.

haechan raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a knowing smirk. it was almost too easy. he inched closer to her, the gap between them being dangerously close, enough to keep her hooked. “depends,” his voice low, gaze dropping to her lips. “who’s asking?”

she leaned closer, eyes flickering to his lips, sending him an invitation to take things further. “what if we went somewhere more private?” her voice low and sultry, breath fanning against his skin, her body language insinuating that she wanted more than just small conversations.

“what if i have a girlfriend?” haechan teased.

she let out a laugh as if to brush off his words. “lee haechan doesn’t do girlfriends.” she replied, a playful look on her face. her fingers sliding up his arm. tilting her head until she was close enough to his lips.

just when her lips were mere inches away from his, a loud and commanding voice sliced through the air.

“what the fuck!” there you stood, arms crossed with fire in your eyes as you stared at the scene in front of you. the woman pulled back from the sudden voice. haechan leaned back against the bar with amusement in his eyes. the game was about to get even better.

the women froze, eyes blinking. her expression shifting from flirtation to confusion. “is… something wrong?” she asked, throat dry as you marched towards them.

“yes, actually.” you spat, voice sharp but controlled, the perfect volume to make her squirm. “care to explain why your nasty hands are all over my boyfriend?”

blood drained from her face, her body stepped away from haechan. face flooding with embarrassment as she looked between you and haechan. “wait–i…i didn’t know!” she stammered, voice faltering as she tried to gather herself.

haechan, playing the part perfectly, put his hands up. “baby, i tried to tell her i have a girlfriend. i was just being polite, and she came over to me.” he said, a pleading look on his face that barely concealed his grin. you could see him trying to suppress his laughter, but you kept your angry expression, not wanting to break character.

“i’m so sorry! oh my god, i didn’t– i wouldn't have–” she stuttered, 

“next time, maybe check if he’s single before you start whoring yourself at him.” you shot her a pity look; lips twitching into a sarcastic smile. you watched as her face turned crimson, bowing her head in apology. you tsked at her. “well? get your cheap perfume-smelling ass out of here!” waving your hand in exasperation.

she muttered an embarrassed apology before backing away and hastily disappearing into the crowd. the moment she was out of sight, haechan wrapped his arms around your waist, laughter escaping his lips.

“hi.” you greeted him by placing your hands on his chest, a flirty smile plastered on your face.

“hi, baby.” haechan kissed your temple. “you are way too good at this.” he murmured, eyes filled with amusement as he pulled you close.

“oh, please.” you slid your hands up to his shoulders, leaning into him. “you were practically begging for me to come and save you.”

haechan chuckled, his fingers tracing small circles on your back–a small habit of his. “maybe. but admit it, you enjoyed every second of it.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips gave your expression away. “fine. but next time, maybe don’t let them get too close.” you tilted your head. sending him a warning glare.

haechan leaned forward, lips brushing against one another.. “don’t worry, princess. you know i only want you.” his voice dropped to a low, teasing whisper. his words sending sparks to your stomach. you love it when he’s like this, so loyal and so needy for you.

this game was your very own taste of poison—a mix of jealousy, excitement, and danger. it was intoxicating, the way it made your heart race, the thrill of testing each other’s limits. but along with the thrill, there was lingering pain every time you saw haechan in the arms of another woman. but you decided to shake it off, after all, it was you who he was coming home to.

you closed the gap between your lips, savoring his taste. he reciprocated your eagerness, his grip on your waist tightening as his leg went in between your thighs. your dress nearly hiking up from the contact.

“what do you say, let’s get out of here?” haechan mumbled against your lips, his hand reaching for the hem of your dress to pull it down and avoid exposing you to the crowd. you were his, after all. no one else’s.

-

“hi, princess.” haechan greeted you with a quick, soft peck on the lips as you entered his penthouse. his cologne filled the air, blending with the subtle scent of leather and warm spices that filled the room. it had been a few days since you saw him, and something about the way he looked now—so comfy and domesticated—made your heart flutter, even after all this time.

“so,” haechan started as you both settled down on the couch. “there’s this new lounge downtown that opened up, i hear it's pretty popular. want to check it out? have some fun?” his lips curled into a smirk, brows wiggling slightly as his arms rested on the couch behind your back.

you tried to fight off the way your eyes nearly rolled behind your head. right. the game. it’s not like you hated it, in fact, you were the one who suggested it at first. before you met haechan he had this playboy image attached to him, a reputation for never settling down, always chasing after a girl. you heard the gossip, the way people talked about him like he was some forbidden fruit that you taste once and never again. the games, in some sick twisted way, were a way to keep him off his feet while reminding him that he belonged to you.

deep down, you couldn’t help but feel that he’ll never be satisfied with just you.

“baby?” haechan pulled you out of your trance, watching you with worried eyes. “are you okay? do you not want to?” his hand reached for the ones in your lap, caressing the skin lightly.

you tried to force a smile, shaking your head. “it’s not that.” chewing on your bottom lips as you tried to think of the words. “sometimes i just wonder… if these games are all we have.” you admitted, head low as you avoided his gaze.

haechan’s eyebrows furrowed, gaze sharpening as he watched you.  “what do you mean?” his voice softened.

you took a deep breath, looking down at your intertwined hands. “i only suggested this because… because i was scared?”

“what are you scared of, princess?” with his free hand, he grasped your chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting your head to face him. his eyes flickering all over your face. cheeks burning from his intense gaze.

you stayed silent for a second, pondering of what to say. “i was scared you’d get bored of me. you had this reputation, haechan.” you started, his expression turning sour from your confession. “i-i didn’t know if i was enough to keep you interested, and i thought if we kept things exciting, you wouldn't go back to that life.”

something shifted in haechan as soon as you finished talking. his soft, warm look had vanished and got replaced by something sharp, something angry. he dropped his hand from your face, his jaw tightening as he stood up, turning away from you. you heart dropped at this state, worried you offended him.

“are you serious?” haechan ran his hands through his hair. “you think i’m only interested in you because of… because of these games?” he turned to face you.

you swallowed, a wave of regret washing over you. “i didn’t mean–“ you stood up, facing him. his frame towering over you.

“do you think that low of me?” haechan’s jaw clenched, he couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth “do you think i’d get bored and… leave you for someone else?”

“haechan, that’s not what i mean.” you reached for his hand, but his body was stiff, still, he let you hold his hand. “it’s just– i don’t know… you never really settled down before. i thought you needed something to keep things interesting.”

“after everything we’ve been through, you still think i’d leave you the second things get a little… normal?” his voice raw, the hurt evident in his tone. you have never seen him this upset, so vulnerable. you felt like shit.

haechan has never once shown you anything to make you doubt his love. it was rooted in your insecurity that you think he’d get up and leave.

“i just,” you paused, carefully studying his expression. his forehead creased from the way his eyebrows were furrowed. your thumb drew circles on the back of his hand. “didn’t want to lose you.”

“i know you’re worried because of my… past.” his voice grew softer, his other hand reaching for yours. “you know that’s not who i am anymore, y/n. you changed that. do you even realize that?” his gaze burned into you, his frustration turning into assurance. “if you think i need some damn game to stay interested, then i guess i have to remind you.”

“remind me what?” you questioned, his fingers tugging you close to him.

“of how much i love you.” haechan leaned down, his body’s warmth engulfing you. “of how you’re the only girl for me.” his lips crashed into yours. you gasped at the sudden movement before shutting your eyes and feeling him against you.

his hands grasped your hips, pulling your body close to him. his leg in between your thighs, and you were thankful you decided to wear a skirt today. his grip on your hips tightened as you moaned against his lips once he slipped his tongue past your mouth, making sure to cover every corner. you couldn’t help but grind your hips against his thigh, needing some sort of friction. he noticed you were getting needy, so he pulled away, smirking at your flustered state before grabbing you by the hand and guiding you to his bedroom.

haechan wasted no time pushing your body down on the soft mattress, yelping when he suddenly stripped your skirt and underwear off of your body in one swift motion. your bottom half completely bare as he shamelessly stared at your dripping pussy.

“hyuck!” you whined. you were half-naked, yet he was still fully clothed. he let out a chuckle before grabbing you by the thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. his fingers grabbed the hem of your top before sliding it off you. leaving you bare and ready for him.

haechan pressed a quick kiss to your lips before he sunk to his knees, his face right in front of your glistening core. he leaned forward, taking a whiff of your scent, letting out a groan once the smell hit his nostrils. “can’t believe you think i’d exchange this for anything.” he wrapped his arms around and over your thighs, holding you steady as you squirmed underneath his touch. “guess i have to show you how much i need you, princess.” he murmured before attaching his lips to your clit.

haechan sucked on the bundle of nerves, lapping his tongue around your folds. your hand gripping his hair, pulling him close to you. he had you planned out like a map, knew all the tips and tricks to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. he darted his tongue out to your entrance, making you buck your hips upward.

“o-oh god.” you cried out, back arching against the mattress. you needed him. craved for him.

haechan hummed against your pussy, his cock growing harder with every moan you released. he loved it when you were weak from his touch—in this case, tongue. he pulled away from your cunt, a string of saliva forming. he retracted one arm from your thigh, bringing his fingers up to your clit. your legs twitching once you felt his long fingers gliding along your folds, feeling your slick mixed with his saliva. without warning, he sunk two digits into your wet hole. lewd sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

“how could i–” haechan curled his fingers, making your legs close from pleasure, but his grip prevented you from doing so. “ever get bored–” he inserted another finger, relentlessly fucking your hole, stretching you out in the process. “of my sweet sweet slut–” he increased his pace, making you cry out of pleasure. “when you take my fingers this good?”

you trembled against him, stomach contracting from the immense pleasure he was giving you. he knew you were close once he felt you clench around his fingers. he took this as a sign to return his lips to your clit, sucking harshly on the bud. matching the movement of his tongue with his fingers. your grip on his hair tightened, your hips pushing down to meet his touch. his fingers effortlessly sliding in and out of your core, curling it with every thrust.

“h-hyuck, so close, please.” you moaned, your head lifting to face him. his eyes meeting yours, smirking once he saw your face twisting into pleasure. his ego growing once he saw how hungry you were for him.

“you taste so good, baby.” haechan grunted, pressing his tongue flat on your clit. desperate to bring you to your climax, he increased his pace. the sound of your pussy squelching reached your ears. “come on, baby. cum on my fingers.” with his encouragement, you came hard on his fingers. a string of curse words escaping your lips, hand gripping the sheets beneath you as you threw your head back against the bed.

haechan’s movements halted, pulling his tongue away from your clit. reclaiming his fingers that were buried in you, each digit covered in your cum. he wasted no time cleaning his fingers with his tongue, tasting your sweetness till it was no more.

he pulled his body away from you, making you frown as you tried to catch your breath. he stripped himself out of his pants and shirt, discarding them somewhere in the room. you kept your gaze on him, his tip red and angry, slapped against his stomach. you propped yourself up by your elbows, climbing higher on the bed to give him some space. he flashed you a sweet smile, climbing in between your legs. his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss, getting a taste of your cum from his tongue.

“on your stomach.” he mumbled against your lips. you pulled away, your face burning with anticipation. you twisted your body, laying flat on your stomach. he grabbed one of his pillows, prompting the soft material beneath you. your ass on full display for him, making him groan. he wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping his length while his free hand took a handful of your ass, squeezing the skin, pushing your hips against his hand. “my good girl.”

haechan leaned down, pressing soft wet kisses on your back, legs straddling the back of your thighs. “stick your ass up a bit for me, baby.” following his instructions, you hiked your ass up for him. “god, you’re too perfect.” he gripped his cock with one hand, lining himself up to your entrance before sinking inside you. he hissed as your pussy perfectly swallowed him like you were made for him. “jesus–how are you still so tight for me?” he shifted his hands to the swell of your ass, gripping on it.

“fuck, hyuck.” you moaned as you adjusted to his size. you seemed to always forget how big and thick his cock was. “you’re so big, baby.” your walls were burning, but soon enough, the discomfort slowly turned into pleasure as you felt every inch of his cock.

haechan almost growled, desperate to move. you turned your head to the side, catching his eye. you gave him a slight nod, signaling him to move, which he does gladly. he started to move his hips against you. “god, baby, you take my cock so fucking well.” his hands flat on your ass as he started to increase the pace of his thrusts. you lifted your hips to meet his thrusts, making him grunt. his hands moving to grip your shoulders, steadying himself as he buried his cock deep into you. you couldn't help the moans that slips past your lips as the tip of his cock repeatedly kissed your cervix. “your pussy was made for me.”

haechan’s hand moved to collect your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tugging on it with every thrust of his hips. your breath came out in short gasps, tears welling your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“f-faster, hyuckie.” you managed to gasp out. stars clouding your vision as he increased his speed. you arched your back, pushing your hips down on his cock. his hand moving down to your throat, pulling your body flush against him.

“i’m all yours, baby.” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “never doubt my love for you again.” you grew weak at his words, legs shaking as he continued slamming his hips against yours. “lay on your back.” he pulled out of you, nearly feeling lonely from the empty feeling. following his instructions, you laid on your back—secretly loving the way he bosses you around.

he positioned himself between your legs, leaning down to attach his lips to yours. you moaned into the kiss, arms flying around his neck to pull you close to him. he aligns his cock back to your entrance, easily slipping it in. your face scrunching in pleasure as his thrusts gradually increased pace. his lips detaching from yours before trailing kisses down to your chest.

haechan’s mouth met your breast, entrapping the bud around his lips before sucking it. his hand giving your other breast all the attention by circling the sensitive nub with his fingers. your back arching from the sensation, pushing your breast further to his face. his cock pounded deeper into you as he felt you clench around him, your orgasm forming at the pit of your stomach. he released your nipple, making a popping sound in the process. “is this what you wanted?” he smirked, watching you writhe beneath him. “to remind you that you’re the only girl that gets to feel my cock?” his hand sliding down to your clit, pinching it, making you gasp. “to fuck you dumb til you can’t speak?” your mind was getting hazy, you merely nodded at his words, lips parting as he fills you up perfectly. “look at me, baby.” he commanded, your gaze meeting his. his eyes dark, filled with hunger as he stared you down. “i love you.”

the familiar knot formed in your abdomen as his fingers continued to circle your clit while simultaneously slamming his hips into yours. his thrusts in perfect rhythm as you neared your climax. he continued whispering the nastiest things in your ear, making sure to get it into your head that he belonged to you, and you only.

“i-i’m gonna cum, please, hyuckie.” you managed to whine out, tears forming your eyes.

the consistency of his thrusts getting sloppy as his orgasm starts to catch up. “does my pretty little slut want me to be filled with my cum, hm?”

“yes, please.” your nails digging into his shoulders. “want your cum in me.”

haechan leaned down to kiss you once more. your release washing over you with a few more thrusts. your body trembling as you came all over his cock. your walls contracting triggering his own orgasm, his cum releasing inside you. his body collapsing on top of you as he pulled his cock from you. his cum trickling down your pussy.

your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat sticking to your bodies. haechan detached himself from you, landing on the spot next to you. he turned to face you, eyes searching yours. “this isn’t just some passing thrill for me, y/n.” he reminded you, hand reaching out to caress your cheek as you faced him with soft eyes. “you’re the person i want to build something real with. i belong to you, you belong to me.”

you could see how much he meant his words, how deeply he felt for you.

“i love you, haechan.” you whispered, leaning into his touch. he pulled your body close to him, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“i love you, too. no more games, okay? just you and me.”

just the two of you, raw and real, was more than enough.

[guiltyandashamed]

headcannons: jealousy

The 7 brothers and their responses to you getting buddy buddy with someone else.

Lucifer

Outwardly calm, inwardly devising a plan to remove the other person.

He tells himself it's beneath him to be jealous—but the way his jaw ticks when you're laughing a little too hard at someone else's joke gives him away.

He won’t interfere directly but will mysteriously show up at your side, arms folded, expression unreadable, standing just close enough to claim territory.

If you ask him directly? He’ll deny it, then casually change the subject and assign you more tasks so you spend more time near him.

You know he's jealous when he offers to escort you to RAD, normally he leaves earlier than anyone else, but he'll put his responsibilities aside (temporarily) until he's satisfied with time spent with you.

Mammon

Horrible at hiding it. Truly, pathetically bad.

Starts off huffy and sulky, arms crossed, muttering under his breath. “Tch, what’s so great about them anyway?”

Gets louder the more he tries to act like he doesn’t care.

Will suddenly be clingier, draping himself over your shoulder, bringing up shared memories loudly in front of whoever made him jealous.

May go full on “I’m your first, remember?!”

Will probably demand cuddles or attention afterward and won’t let go until his pride is patched (which may take a while).

Leviathan

Avatar of Envy, duh.

Withdraws first. Goes quiet. Eyes follow you but he doesn’t say much.

Starts comparing himself to the person you're talking to, convinced they’re cooler, more normie-attractive, probably a better match.

Will game aggressively to distract himself, drown himself in anime and manga, but he starts seeing parallels so he freaks out even more.

Needs reassurance, a lot of it. His face will be hiding in his hoodie and you know you've won him over when he finally stops hiding in it.

Satan

Possessive in subtle ways.

Doesn’t make a scene, but will insert himself into the conversation with charm that borders on cold.

Suddenly has facts or anecdotes that one-up the person you're with, effortlessly.

His smile doesn't reach his eyes when he’s jealous. That’s the tell.

Will call you out later in private, “You seemed very entertained tonight.”

If you reassure him, he relaxes instantly—maybe even smirks and says, “Good. I don’t share what’s mine.”

Asmodeus

Jealousy? From him? Never... unless… wait, are you flirting??

Overcompensates by trying to outshine whoever you’re talking to. Laughs louder, touches your arm more often, plays the charm up to eleven.

If it doesn’t work, he deflates a little.

Will pout in your room later, lounging upside down on your bed, demanding, “Do I not make your heart flutter anymore?”

Needs physical affection to feel reassured: cuddles, kisses, anything to remind him he's still your favorite.

Once soothed, he snaps back to being sunshine and glitter like nothing happened.

Beelzebub

Confused at first. Then bothered. Then protective.

Doesn’t know why he suddenly doesn’t like the way someone’s leaning too close to you, but it makes his stomach twist in a way that isn’t hunger.

Watches you quietly, then stands behind you like a silent wall.

Subtly moves you closer to him—maybe by offering you food or gently steering you away.

If pushed too far, he might say “I think you’re standing a little too close” straight to the point.

Tells you afterward, “I didn’t like the way they looked at you,” and hopes that’s enough to explain it.

Belphegor

Doesn’t hide it. Blatantly obvious.

Glares openly. Broods. Gives the person you're with a long, deadpan stare that makes most people nervous.

Will pull you into naps more often. Hugs you tighter. Might whisper snide things about the other person as he drifts off on your shoulder.

“Tch. Can’t believe you were smiling like that for them”

Will absolutely steal your blanket and refuse to share it until you give him a kiss or acknowledge he’s your favorite.

Grumbles less once you curl up next to him, but still mutters “Mine” under his breath when he thinks you’re asleep.

[dark-moonlust]

Getting Pounded by Nagas PART 3: Contractions

Pairing: Two nagas x human reader

Summary: You wake up feeling pains in your belly, getting ready for the egg birth. The doctor checks on you there is an issue… one that can be resolved only with your mates’ touch and seed.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, inaccurate pregnancy stuff (this is naga egg preg smut, let me have fun), naga smut, double 🍆🍆, double penetr, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is part of a series. Find all the parts here.

It was early in the morning when the contractions jolted you awake. The bedroom was still and dimly lit only the weak rays of the sun filtering through the curtains. You winced and disentangled yourself from between your mates, clutching your swollen belly and taking shallow breaths. The eggs shifted inside you, the pressure too much. Your groaned and the soft sound stirred your mates from their sleep. They woke with gasps of concern.

“What’s wrong, little one?” Ragnor asked, his fingers cradling your belly. You were 12 months along, so close to birth, your stomach round with the two eggs inside you.

“Contractions,” you breathed as another pain rolled through you.

At your words, both of your mates exchanged a look of worry. You were not supposed to have contractions. A Naga pregnancy didn’t have sudden contractions. It was completely different to a human pregnancy. The birth, too. It was the reason you’d arranged everything with the doctor and planned an induction of labor a week from now. But clearly, that plan would change.

“I can feel the eggs moving,” you muttered. “It’s starting to hurt.”

That’s was all you needed to say before your mates sprang into action.

Ragnor prepared everything you would need, packing you bags and a light meal. Meanwhile Thorne helped you take a shower and put on a soft, comfortable dress. In just twenty minutes, you found yourself lying at the padded chair in the Superhuman Maternity and Birthing Center. The room was bright and serene, the smell of disinfectant in the air. Your mates stood on each side of you, their tails wrapping around the chair.

Dr. Elise, a human woman in her fifties entered the private room, dressed in pristine white robes. She was a very kind and experienced doctor who monitored your superhuman pregnancy. Unlike you and your mates, Dr. Elise was calm upon hearing that you had contractions. She reminded you to keep taking deep breaths and trust in her ability to keep you safe.

“Good, very good,” the doctor said once you had calmed down a little. “Let’s take a look at you and the eggs. ”

The doctor used various advanced technological devises to scan your belly, take some blood samples and check the position of the eggs. You waited patiently as she analyzed your samples, winching only slightly when another contraction hit. Thorne and Ragnor stood at your sides, concealing their concern, each of them holding one of your hands tightly.

When Dr. Elise finally completed her calculations, she looked at you and your mates with a reassuring smile. “Everything appears perfect apart from the contractions. Naga pregnancies don’t cause traditional human contractions. That is because the eggs do not implant in the uterine wall like typical mammalian embryos. Instead, they remain free-floating within a specialized sac that develops to accommodate their growth. What you are experiencing now are false contractions.”

“Are my babies okay?” you asked her, tears pricking at your eyes.

Thorne kissed your sweaty forehead while Ragnor your lips. “We’re right here, love,” each of them murmured to you. “We won’t leave your side, relax for us.”

The doctor placed a strange cylindrical LED device over your vagina and ass, “I see that you’re not filled enough with your mates’ seed. It’s why you’re experiencing contractions and pain. We need to make sure you’re completely suffused in seed, and after that, it’s imminent that they be delivered. When was the last time you’ve had intimate relations with your mates?” The doctor asked you.

“Last night,” you answered in one breath.

“We fucked only once because she was sleepy,” Ragnor said, brows furrowing. “Wasn’t that enough?”

Dr. Elise shook her head. “Not in the least. The eggs consume the seed incredibly fast, especially at their current growth,” she explained. “You’ll need to fill your mate again, thoroughly and immediately.”

“Right now?” You asked, your voice pitching without meaning to.

“Yes,” Dr. Elise said. “I want you to be suffused with seed and after that I’ll induce the birth. We can’t risk waiting and risking both your health.”

“We’ll fill her. In both holes, just to be sure,” Ragnor said, his face completely serious.

Dr. Elise nodded. “Yes, and if you can give her seed through the mouth as well, that would be ideal.”

You flushed furiously as your mates and the doctor discussed the details, their faces dead-serious as if talking about filling your holes with seed was the most casual thing in the world.

Dr. Elise noticed your discomfort and smiled gently. “I want you to trust in me and my abilities to bring your babies to the world. Naga birth requires the assistance of the partners even more so in your case because you’re human.”

“Will it hurt as much as a human birth?” you asked, heart palpitating.

The doctor smiled. “No, it will be pleasurable and just mildly uncomfortable.”

You flushed at the word “pleasurable”. You’d discussed the birth plan a long time ago and you remembered the doctor telling you that your mates would need to make you climax during the birth for each egg to be delivered.

“Let me remind you how this will go,” Dr. Elise began, her voice calm. “Once you’re properly suffused with seed, I will give you a medicine that will induce the eggs to come out. Naga eggs have a tendency to like it in the womb and at some cases, they refuse to come out. The eggs will naturally leave your system, do not doubt that. I have specific instructions for that. Trust me, we will go through with it after you’ve been suffused with enough seed.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you said, your cheeks blushing a little.

“It’s my pleasure. Naga birth is completely different from that of a human so I want you to be as comfortable as possible and talk to me and your mates.”

“I understand,” you said. You trusted Dr. Elise and knew she was right. “Where can I and my mates… uhmm… do what we need to do?”

Dr. Elise stood up. “This room is reserved for your birth so you can stay here. I’ll step out to give you privacy and return roughly in two hours. Call me for whatever you need; I will be on standby.” The doctor headed to the door and glanced at your mates, “Remember, you need to fill her completely otherwise her health and the eggs will be at risk. I’ll come back to check, and if it’s not enough, you’ll have to keep going until the eggs have consumed enough seed.”

Once the doctor was out, you slumped back in the chair. “I can’t believe this. My health is dependent on your seed.”

“Lots of it”, Thorne added, looking smug.

“I’m going to be super cocky about that in the future,” Ragnor said, a smug grin on his face.

Two throaty chuckles made you look at your scaled mates. Horny bastards, they had already dragged off their shirts and their cocks had emerged from their protective slits, thick and massive, the cockheads glistening with arousal. You licked your lips and swallowed thickly. This was real. You were about to be fucked right there, in the examination room.

Ragnor wasted no time and slid up your dress, the only piece of clothing you wore. He left you completely naked on the chair, his hungry amber eyes devouring your form. Thorne was gazing at you just as intensely, both your nagas marveling at your swollen breasts, your round stomach and between your legs. You tried to close them, suddenly a little shy, but their tails wrapped around your ankles, keeping them spread wide for them.

“Will you trust us to fill your pretty little holes, little mate?” Thorne asked, his voice a whisper as he claimed your lips.

“Hnnn… fuck, yes,” you said, arching your back, offering yourself to them. The more they touched you, the more the contractions eased, pleasure taking over.

“Damn, what a pretty sight our mate is.”Ragnor lowered his head to your stomach, rubbed the swell, and spoke, "We’ll meet you soon, little ones. Stay safe and warm in there."

“Daddies will take care of mommy,” Thorne drawled, his mouth finding its way to one of your nipples, drawing it into his mouth. It leaked milk and with a groan he lapped it up.

Ragnor lavished attention on your other breast, his fingers teasing and rolling the tip that was beaded with milk. A whimper came tumbling from your lips then a drawn-out moan as they took turns worshipping your leaking breasts.

"Ahh— hnng... need your seed," you rasped, carding your fingers through their silky long hair.

"We need to prepare you mate,” Thorne said while kissing one lush rosy nipple and wetting the other with his tongue.

"I’m ready... ahh... I need your load."

Ragnor hummed. “Our mate is right. We need to fill her tight little holes. Hm?”

Thorne agreed, a smug grin playing on the lips.

Gently, you were lifted and placed onto Ragnor’s embrace. He carried you to the bed nearby and sat with you against his chest, your sensitive breasts leaking. His massive cock throbbed against your belly, slick with precum as you reached out and wrapped your hands around it. With sensual strokes, you pumped him up and down, the intimacy between you and your mates heightening.

You sensed Thorne presence behind you, his sinuous tail reaching for the bottle of lube in one of the drawers. You heard the slurp of lube then felt him take his place behind you, his cock wet against your back. With your free hand, you reached back to stroke his cock while his lubed fingers deftly parted your asscheeks, spread them wide, fingering your tight entrance and rubbing the swollen nub of your clit.

Thorne thrust a finger into your ass while stroking your clit with the other hand. Your thoughts turned into mush and you buckled your hips, the sensations electric. Another finger slid up your tight hole, the hand at your pussy moving with deliberate movements. You gasped and came with the most ridiculous moans, soaking wet and aching for more.

Sensing your need, your mates lifted you, their cocks poised beneath each quivering hole. Ragnor’s double cocks parted the folds of your pussy, his massive veined dicks thrusting upwards. Thorn’s shafts pressed insistently against the tight bud of your asshole. They guided you down until you were doubly impaled by their dicks.

Breath hitching, you squeezed your eyes shut.

You saw stars.

Pleasure and bliss.

They began their rhythmic thrusts and you whimpered, clutching onto their shoulders for dear life as they bounced you up and down on their naga dicks. Your body hummed with pleasure, the contractions barely catching your attention. Your nipples were hard and leaking, your holes clenching and unchecking around the invasions.

Your mates kissed your lips, your neck, your sensitive nipples. Their fingers roamed protectively over your belly, teasing and claiming you as you rode higher and higher. You rocked against them and rode them wildly, your juices leaking down your thighs and all over the cotton sheets.

Two more thrusts and you came crashing around their cocks, relief surging through you. Your naga mates groaned and followed the very next moment, their frames shaking violently as they spurted their seed inside you. The warmth filled you up, bringing immediate relief as the eggs seemed to settle within you.

“That’s it, such a good mate for us,” Ragnor murmured, kissing you softly. “How are you feeling, mama?”

“Better. Much better,” you said, your eyes and voice pleasure-hazed.

“It'll be okay," Thorne whispered into your ear. "Now we’re going to change positions and fill you up again, alright, love?”

You nodded, whining. You’d do anything to keep your eggs safe and you loved and needed your mates just as much.

“Let us take care of everything, love,” Ragnor said, kissing you softly once more.

A wet squelch echoed as the cocks exited your depths. Your mates held you in a way that kept most of their seed inside you, and quickly plugged you up. This time, Ragnor laid down, thrusting his dicks up your ass, while Thorne slid between your splayed legs, draped them over his green-scaled tail and filled your tight pussy. Their tails coiled around your breasts, squeezing them delightfully and making your nipples leak out milk. Thorne lapped it up greedily, while Ragnor reached down to play with your swollen clit.

“Haah, yessss, ahnnn, feels so good,” you moaned as you were worshiped and claimed in every way possible. “Hng-go…go…nna—”

You cried out at the dizzying explosion of yet another climax. Your toes, high in the air, curled tightly, and your hands clung frantically to Thorne, fingers digging into his bare back. Their movements grew frantic, desperate until they buried themselves to the hilt and exploded within you, pumping rope after rope of cum, groaning harshly in masculine satisfaction.

Their strong hands rubbed your belly possessively, feeling the gentle movements of the eggs inside you. They kissed you deeply, tongues intertwining, then rearranged your positions again. This time, you lay on your side between your mates. Thorne spooned you from behind, his tail wrapping around your knees and opening your legs. Growling, he thrusts his fat cocks into your pussy and ass. You were drenched, naga seed all over your mound and thighs.

“I say we fill her pretty mouth, too,” Thorne said, his voice thick with arousal. “I want to see her swallow your seed Ragnor, let it fill her stomach.”

Ragnor groaned and kneeled at your face, his cocks jutting proudly up to his bellybutton. “Open up, love,” he cooed. “We need to make sure you’re completely filled.

Ragnor guided his cockhead to your lips and you opened up, taking one of his dicks as deep as you could in your throat. You suckled his shaft with fervor, your tongue tracing the veiny ridges and swirling over the flared head. Your hands pumped his second cock and you alternated between the two while Thorne pounded into you, causing your tits to bounce.

“Fuck, you have no idea how beautiful you look, mate,” Ragnor muttered, watching your mouth, now filled with both his cocks, while Thorne’s dicks pistoned inside you.

“Mffgh— love—hffuh you,” you gurgled around the shafts in your mouth, wet slurping sounds filling the room.

“We love you, too, precious mate,” Throne said, hips snapping repeatedly, driving his shafts deep in your depths. “You’re doing great. We’re almost there. Just a little more, love.”

They settled into a sensual rhythm, Ragnor’s cock filling your mouth while Thorne thrust inside your pussy and ass, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady. They whispered sweet nothings, their voices thick with praise and adoration: ”you’re doing so well”, “our brave, beautiful mate”. They caressed your tummy, pinched your breasts while their tails flicked your poor clit.

Little sparks of fire sizzled through your body and burned you up in a blissful climax. You trembled and writhed, and Ragnor withdrew his cock allowing you to cry out with ease. Thorne’s magnificent serpent body bucked and he came with a bellow, nipping at your shoulder while pumping his seed inside you. Once he was done, Ragnor slid back in your mouth, his fingers grasping your hair. He thrust once, twice and came, cocks pulsing with his release. You swallowed every single drop, and felt his hot load fill your belly.

“Damn, mate, you took all we had to give,” Thorne said affectionately, his cocks still nestled within you, plugging up the seed.

“Our mate is the strongest,” Ragnor said, kissing you passionately, his tongue tasting his seed in your mouth. “How are you feeling? The eggs?”

“I’m feeling… perfect,” you said with a soft smile. “The contractions are almost gone. When will the eggs come?”

Just in time, a knock echoed through the room. The doctor had returned and you would soon give birth to your eggs.

Any kind of support will make me smile so big! Feel free to share your thoughts and reblog! Next part will be the birth.

[nanamiskentos]

ACHILLES COME DOWN — ryomen sukuna

prologue. → you had given the king of curses what he had wanted the most, an heir, borne of the wife that he loves. but for one typically vicious and unshakeable, you wonder why sukuna is left so shaken by how much your daughter takes after him.

you wonder at how the vast ribcage of a demon and a cold killer, who can make the sun rise in the west if he so wished, was once the ribcage that held the beating heart of a young boy, with little space for him, or his mother, in this world.

pairing. ryomen sukuna x afab!reader

warnings. reader is sukuna's wife and they really love each other, just in their own twisted way. tried so hard to not make sukuna ooc so he comes across as an awful bitch sometimes. mentions of violence, blood, giving birth. lots of angst, hurt, comfort, mild fluff, suggestive, dubious in parts of the backstory, heavy focus on sukuna's childhood. sukuna calls reader 'woman' and 'brat.'

word count. 8.4k song inspiration. achilles come down — gang of youths

a/n. this artwork by @innaillus lives rent free in my head, it was the driving force for this fic idea...wanted to make this something different to what i usually do.

mp3 you crave the applause yet hate the attention, then miss it, your act is a ruse. it is empty, achilles, so end it all now, it's a pointless resistance for you.

for all the jujutsu and sorcery that flourished in the world, with unearthly displays of mastery over lief and death, you loathed how none had devised a technique to pluck an unborn child from the womb, and deliver it to the world without pain, without effort, and without this infernal ordeal that had left you slumped against silk cushions.

the air of your chambers hung heavy with a languid quiet, steeping in the residue of suffering, triumph, and undeniably, the light scent of iron in the air that made you wrinkle your nose.

the faint rustle of bloodied sheets reached your ears, punctuated by the rhythmic hum of the cicadas just beyond the paper screens, their song rising and falling like the tide of some ancient hymn.

summer lingered there, stubborn and sweltering on your brow, as the tremor of your hands betrayed the harrowing hours of labour behind you, though it had felt like centuries.

she was impossibly small, your daughter, her form as delicate as ceramic from the kiln, and just as luminous. her hair, peach-pink and fine as spun silk, gleamed softly in the amber glow of the lamplights, a gentler echo of her father's sharper strands.

the infant stirred in her swaddling, a tiny yawn parting her perfect, bow-shaped lips before she blinked up at you with wide, unfocused eyes.

the sight of those eyes stopped you. their hue was unmistakable — the very shade of your own, what a mirror of familiarity nestled in in the impossibly round irises of the child.

your breath hitched, and then a laugh escaped you, weak and thin from exhaustion.

the sound startled the maids, their hurried motions faltering for an instant, but you paid them no mind. your fingers simply brush over the baby's smooth cheek, marvelling at the warmth of her, at the life so newly arrived, and yet so firmly tethered to you.

"one question answered them," you murmured, the words falling from you, "two eyes."

what an absurd observation, a flicker of thought that should not have mattered in this moment. yet it did tug at you. you had wondered often during the long, sleepless night of pregnancy, whether this child would resemble their father entirely. whether this child would inherent that jagged, fearsome visage and the shadow that hung over the king of curses.

you had privately hoped that there would at least be something of you in the child, something gentler, and tethered to the world of men.

your musings were interrupted by the low murmur of voices beyond the screen, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps, deliberate and unhurried.

the servants hushed themselves immediately, and a moment later, the door slid open.

"lord sukuna," one of the accompanying nobles intoned, bowing so deeply that the hem of his crimson sokutai kissed the polished stones of the floor.

what a redundant announcement, for sukuna's presence often needed no introduction. you would swear that the chamber, warm with the glow of the lamplight, shrank beneath the weight of him.

even the cicadas outside seemed to hush their song as his shadow stretched across the tatami mats.

you felt his gaze before you saw it, — those piercing rust eyes, a force unto themselves. they lingered on you, a single breath held between one moment and the next, before shifting to the swaddled bundle cradled in your arms. you studied his face, willing yourself to decipher the mask of his granite expression.

hope tugged at you, fragile and foolish, searching for some flicker of sentiment, some crack in the marble of his countenance. yet his features remained inscrutable, as if carved from stone by a hand too cruel to grant softness.

but you knew your lord husband well. the absence of visible emotion was not the absence of feeling. his silences were not voids, but rather labyrinths, frustratingly so often. still, you watched him, not daring to speak, as sukuna moved with inhuman grace, as his steps no longer made sound on the floor.

your eyes fell on an odd object being carried in one of sukuna's four hands. dark silk was wrapped tightly around a small, irregular shape, and the bundle was unassuming at a glance. but you knew that nothing sukuna did was without purpose, without some motive.

but his eyes did not hold the indifferent glance of a man acknowledging his heir. it was something sharper, and heavier.

what did he see in the infant's tiny, sleeping form? what judgement had he already rendered in the silence that stretched unbearably to every corner of your quarters?

was this displeasure? disappointment? no, there was no anger etched into the sharp planes of his face.

but sukuna had wanted a son, he had said so, enough times that had left you running your anxious hands over your swollen belly. the thought coiled around your heart like a serpent, tightening with each second.

an heir must be strong. he had said it once, not long after you had first told him of the child growing within you. and in the quiet hours of that autumn night, you had wondered what strength had meant to him.

was it the unyielding will that had carved his name into infamous legend? the power to command, and collapse armies and legions, to bend the wills of mortals, and curses alike? a boone that could only truly be carried by a son?

you had never dared to ask the alternative.

swallowing your doubt, you finally spoke, unable to bear it any longer, "sukuna," you said, your voice quieter than you had intended, and even to your ears, it sounded raw with ragged exhaustion, "you have a daughter."

the words lingered, fragile as a spider's silk, trapped in the web of this room. it seemed that the maids, nor the nobles, dared to raise their eyes, as their breaths seemed to hang on the response.

now his shadow was cast over you, dimming the light of the world around you, but his four eyes flicked between the child at your breast, and then to your face.

"she will spill much blood on this earth," his voice as deep and steady as the foundations of the earth itself, "like her father."

the words struck you, like a hammer reverberating against a bronze bell in the quiet air. had you not braced yourself for his disappointment, for the cold practicality that so often shaped his actions?

but you were glad to see something else in his eyes, certainty, conviction, and even the faintest glimmer of traitorous pride. relief simply swept over you, filling in the spaces where paranoia and fear had coiled.

a small smile broke across your lips, though it felt fragle, as if one wrong word could shatter the moment. nevertheless, the lingering doubts that had clung to you, as heavy as a sunrise fog, began to dissolve in his searing presence.

"i am glad," you murmured, "that you are not angered. for i did not give you a son."

sukuna raised a single thin brow, his expression as unreadable as always, though the faintest trace of something akin to amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, "any child of my blood will be strong. i am glad that my wife did not pass from blood loss during childbirth."

you melodramatically sighed but a laugh danced on your mouth, that was essentially a heartfelt confession of sukuna's love for you, in his own twisted way.

"well," you replied, doing your best to sound bolder than you felt, "if you're feeling so magnanimous, you may as well tell me what that is."

your gaze was in the silk-wrapped bundle that still rested in his lower right hand, "could i hope that it's a loving gift for me? your wife who did not pass from blood loss?"

the ghost of a droll smile quirked sukuna's lips, a rare thing that seemed to thaw away some of the cold ice on his features, "you will get your gift later," and there was the faintest flicker of heat in his tone, the sort that made your stomach twist and your cheeks burn anew.

you quickly lowered your gaze, pretending to fuss with the edges of the infant's swaddle. the maids had suddenly busied themselves with unnecessary tasks in the farthest corners of the room.

"this," sukuna continued, lifting the package, "is for her."

for a moment, his words didn't register. you blinked, surprised, and your eyes flicked from the mysterious artifact to the tiny, slumbering child in your arms.

"for her?" you echoed, and the idea of the king of curses bring an item for a child, his child, felt strange, but tender in its unfamiliarity, "what is it?"

instead of answering immediately, he sat his hulking form beside you, sinking the silk of your sheets further into the wood frame. the wrapping fell away at his touch, revealing what lay within.

a spear, small and exquisite. wickedly sharp, and glinting faintly even in the dim light. it's shaft was adorned with intricate carvings of coiling dragons and parting clouds, and it had clearly been crafted for a hand far tinier than sukuna's own.

"a...weapon?" your stomach turned faintly, blanching at the sight of something so deadly meant for someone so fragile, unease colouring your voice.

sukuna sighed at your tone, like he had already predicted your protests, "it is tradition. a blade is the first gift given to a child, in the house of a warrior. it must be a promise."

"a promise of what?" you asked, though you weren't sure you truly wanted to hear the answer.

"of strength. that a child will grow strong, regardless of blood or lineage."

you looked at your daughter, so small and so impossibly fragile, and then down at the spear, the fine metal glinting faintly in the amber lamplight. you were certain that if you were to lay a finger on the razor edge, it could split your flesh apart with blooming drops of wine-red blood.

"she is but a few hours old," you murmured, "what strength must she carry already?"

sukuna's gaze was umoved, but not unkind, "the child carries a burden whether she knows it or not. the world is not kind to those who are weak. would you not see her survive it?"

a harsh truth, but spoken without cruelty. you studied sukuna's face, bathed in the lamplight, searching for something that you couldn't quite name. for all his barbed edges, you could have sworn his words nursed an older grudge. but you knew, in your heart that he was right, your daughter had been borne of a mortal mother, but of an immortal father, of a darker thread in this world.

a father, one who did not know how to speak of love, but who offered it in the only way he knew.

to sukuna, love and violence sat hand in hand, bloodied and stained.

"still," you said, deciding to drop the serious protest, for now, "a strange world you live in, where a weapon is a fitting fit for a infant? your wisdom knows no bounds," and your voice was laced with the teasing incredulity that he would tolerate only from his wife.

his crimson eyes flicked toward you, calm and unbothered, though the faintest smirk curved the corner of his mouth, like a blade just shy of unsheathing. "admittedly," he said, his deep voice like thunder rolling across a distant plain, "i hadn’t realised that babies were so… round. and weak. and plump."

"you were a baby once."

"never. i was born with the taste of blood and flesh already in my mouth."

"you’re insufferable," you said, though there was no real heat in your words. sukuna was not as naive as he pretended to be; you knew this game too well. his dry humour was his way of stirring you, drawing you out, even now.

"well," you said with a soft sigh, gesturing toward the swaddled bundle in your arms, "set the weapon aside, my dear warlord. for now, at least. let her meet her father before she’s introduced to steel and blood."

for a moment, his gaze lingered on you, unreadable as always, though something unspoken and hesitant flickered there, like the glow of embers beneath ash. then, with a small incline of his head, he relented.

"very well, pass the brat," he muttered, his tone lower now, softer.

you extended the child toward him, her tiny form impossibly small against the vastness of his marked hands.

for a fleeting moment, you worried — fearful that his strength, so absolute, might overwhelm her delicate frame. but when his fingers brushed against the blanket, they were steady, almost reverent.

he took her into his arms, his hold firm yet astonishingly gentle. what a beautiful little thing, you thought, as she stirred faintly, her little face scrunching in a way that made your heart ache with unexpected tenderness, for her and for this rare moment of quiet from your husband.

"how...small," sukuna said, almost to himself, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. the crimson of his eyes softened as he gazed at her, no longer the gaze of the strongest jujutsu sorcerer or a fearsome curse, but something far more human, a shadow of a man he might have once been.

"infants tend to be," you replied softly, watching the way his expression flickered, but you shifted closer to him, "here, let me unwrap her."

with careful hands, you unwound the swaddling cloth, each pull of fabric careful. the delicate folds slipped away in a quiet hustle, revealing the soft, flushed skin of the newborn, her form small and fragile in the dim glow of the chamber. a scattering of fine, rosy hairs crowned her head like the first petals of a spring bloom, soft and fleeting.

but then, as the last of the cloth unraveled, the room seemed to still. beneath her, something did not quite belong.

four arms. for, just like her father, another set of limbs was stacked underneath the first.

a chill ran through you, but you kept your gaze fixed upon her. the sight was no less miraculous for its strangeness, no less wondrous, but something shifted in your chest, a flutter of uncertainty.

oh, your darling baby girl.

your breath faltered for only an instant, and then a wry chuckle escaped your lips. "no wonder it hurt so much pushing her out," you griped, the words an attempt at brief levity.

the maids behind you had stilled, their eyes wide with shock, their breaths drawn in in silence. but you scarcely noticed or cared for their reaction.

your attention was on sukuna, and the subtle change that passed across his features like a shadow moving across the face of the sun.

at first, there was nothing — no word, no sound from his tight, pursed lips. his crimson eyes flickered over her, shifting from the unexpected sight of her four arms to her face, as though searching for some other sign of familiarity. his hold on her, though gentle, became uncertain, the steady grasp of one used to absolute control now wavering in the presence of something too delicate to tame.

no one would have seen the change in your husband, but you did. you always did.

"ah, sukuna," you whispered, "it’s alright. hold her properly."

sukuna's jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in the corner of his mouth, painted with all the sweetness of rancid milk gone sour. but at last, he obeyed.

slowly, deliberately, his hands shifted, cradling the child with a kind of reverence that seemed foreign to him. the baby stirred faintly, her small hands brushing against his bare chest, and for the briefest of moments, a flicker passed across his expression — something that could have been warmth, or tenderness, or even pain, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

just as swiftly, his face returned to its usual impassive mask, the stoic countenance of a cruel warlord, implacable and untouchable. the walls of armour, built up over years of battle, of bloodshed, closed in around him once more, and you were left with the unmistakable sense that he had retreated behind them.

your brow furrowed as you watched him, "what's wrong?"

"nothing, woman." he replied curtly, and you could already sense the serrated edges of his tone, the one you would hear when his mood had gone afoul.

he placed the newborn back into your arms, and you nestled the infant close to your breast — and you blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of the gesture, your fingers stinging from the instantly cool touch of his skin.

"you have done well," and his voice was low, clipped.

a fleeting silence followed, thick with the weight of his half-hearted praise, or rather lack of his apparent love.

"done well? sukuna - " you repeated, unable to mask the incredulity in your voice, "my lord, that is all you have to say?"

his eyes rested on yours, cool and unyielding. beautiful and terrible, in the way that a soldier may have admired a temporary moment in time watching crimson shimmer and soar across the sky, before it fell down in acrid blood rain. terrible, all the same.

on any other day, his infuriating brevity and sharp demeanour might have sparked a flame of annoyance in your chest, but today...was not quite so. though the shadow that rest upon him would not reveal itself, you searched his face nevertheless for what had unnerved him so. but as always, sukuna's features were as unreadable as ancient stone.

his gaze flickered for a moment to the maids who lingered at the edges of the room, their wide eyes watching with an almost palpable curiosity. and without a single glance at you, or the baby girl nestled in your arms, he turned away in long strides, past the threshold and onto the balcony that held the evening's last fading light.

you let out a long, slow sigh — at the poison that had sunk its furled teeth into your husband once more. this was hardly the first time he had withdrawn into his own sullen, brutal thoughts, locked behind walls that you had not the key to breach. and it certainly would not be the last. you could only hope that this ill vein of his mind would not end in someone's pumping blood being spilled over the floors.

"uraume," you called softly, glancing toward your friend and confidant, who had been standing silently near the wall, having accompanied sukuna.

the short, silver-haired sorcerer turned their rosewood eyes toward you, their expression as stoic as ever, like frost that had settled over granite.

their hands were folded neatly in front of their heavy snow-robes, but you caught the faintest quirk of their brow as if to say what now?

you gestured toward sukuna's figure on the terrace, brooding and awfully solitary, "what has gotten into him?"

uraume shrugged, as unimpressed as always, "would that he has found himself in one of his moods again. you know how he is."

you frowned, not entirely satisfied with their answer, for what ill mood could have sunk its claws into sukuna after the birth of his only child. but still, uraume had known sukuna far longer than you had.

"can you hold her for a moment?"

at that, uraume hesitated, their stoicism faltering for the briefest second, "me?" they asked, their cool tone clipped but their light-teak eyes darting to the baby with thinly veiled interest.

"yes, you," you said with a wry smile, "ah, don’t pretend as though you don’t want to."

their lips pressed into a tight line, but you saw the way their hands moved almost instinctively, reaching out before they could talk themselves out of it. with practiced care, you transferred the baby into your friend's arms, watching as uraume's stern demeanor softened, just slightly, as they looked down at the tiny bundle.

"careful," you teased, adjusting the swaddle around your infant daughter, "she might charm you into smiling."

"unlikely," uraume deadpanned, but the faintest ghost of warmth touched their dulcet voice.

the evening air was cool as the breath of a shadow, brushing against your skin, and you watched as the pale pink petals of the gardens below fluttered in the winds, falling in gentle arcs around the estate.

you sighed, wrapping your robe tighter around your form, as the sheer fabric clung to your skin like the last vestiges of warmth that the day had offered. the coolness was a balm, but it did little to ease the deep ache in your legs, nor the weariness that had clung to you like a second skin now, so soon after an arduous labour.

you made your way onto the balcony, the rough floor beneath your feet cold and unyielding — and there, sukuna sat, his broad frame hunched slightly over the stone bench.

you paused, only a slight shadow behind him, unsure whether to disturb the stillness of his thoughts or let him be. the space between you was...heavy, but you broke through the silence.

"are you going to tell me what's wrong," you asked, trying to keep a lightness to your tone, "or are you planning to brood out here all night?"

you could only hope that you had not overstepped, for his moods were as tempestuous as the wild storms of summer's monsoons. although his promise of blood on skin, and guts on the table, had never been directed at you.

a flicker of irritation had brush over sukuna's face, as his gaze remained fixed on the horizon. a warning, perhaps, a retreat?

for a moment, you lingered where you stood, wondering if it would be worth your time to weather whatever tempest brewed within the king of curses. and you hesitated, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and place a hand upon his broad shoulder. but something held you back, not tonight.

instead, you settled beside him, the cold stone of the bench biting into your thighs and abdomen through the thin fabric of your robe, a deep cramping that you wished you could settle with a steaming bath.

for a long while, sukuna said little. but you heard his small exasperated sigh, at the inconvenience that you had apparently created for him. a subtle movement in the dark silk of his robes, and without a word, he spread the folds of his garments wider so you could move closer to the searing heat of his bare skin, and rest upon the fabric, rather than the icy rock currently beneath your pelvis.

"sukuna, please. are you well?"

"why wouldn't i be, woman?" but the words fell between you, false and brittle in the warm air, betrayed by the clench of his jaw.

it must be of little standard, how you're pleased that sukuna has not blasted his beloved wife into cinders, and so you press on, undeterred now by the silence.

reaching out, you take one of his four hands, so much stronger than your own, into your grasp. your fingers weave into the thick tattoos marked on his skin, over faint scars that must stretch back to a golden age, long abandoned by the world. but here, his skin is warm and living, and solid beneath your touch. it is rough in places, like a weathered boulder, but there is no resistance in his grasp, no usual sharpness in a retreat.

"i wonder," he mutters, and you look up from studying his hands in surprise, "what mine own parents must have thought when i was born."

your breath catches, for sukuna has never spoken of family, not once in all the years that you have known him. after all, you had seen your husband in reminiscence many times, usually after a great flagon of rich drink.

about stories of battle and triumphs, of how greatly he enjoyed severing a stray general's head from the man's body, of how excellent the wine was five centuries ago, or how he found it a nuisance that it was no longer acceptable to chase after servants with a crossbow for the fun of the hunt.

but never had a word been uttered of those who came before him.

"you've never mentioned your family, sukuna," and you don't miss how his hand twitches under your hold, "never heard a single thing about the last king and queen of curses."

the sharp, razor lines of his body tighten, and sukuna does not smile, does not soften. his face is as unreadable as ever, like a mask carved from iron wood.

"i come from no such line, certainly not from kings," his tone is flat, only a mild sneer in his voice as the prospect of nobility, and you watch the handsome slope of his nose in the twilight, the stern profile that you had grown to admire in the time of your...tumultuous marriage.

he speaks the words like they are the final bookend of a story, the last page, with nothing left to say. but you tilt your head, watching the hard line of his jaw, and the way his fingers mildly tighten around your own, like an anchor.

"who were they?"

sukuna finally turns his head to face you, the faintest shift in his posture as his eyes finally meet yours. the look he gives you is cold, disinterested, and the subtle roll of his lower eyelids betray a flash of frustration and anger.

you frown at the fleeting, cutting gesture, but it is nothing new for you, "it was just a question. i've just never heard you speak on this before."

sukuna rolls his broad shoulders, half-hearted and dismissive, as though this conversation itself has suddenly become an inconvenience that he's barely willing to entertain. how typical.

"never found it relevant."

you aren't sure what is more unbearable now, the dull throb in your legs that still lingers from the birth, or the faint copper tang of the afterbirth that you're certain is now pooling on your robe, or the heavy, oppressive heat of the summer air that seems to suffocate in your throat.

but somehow, all of it combines to make your husband's behaviour just a bit too much, even for you, the one who has become so accustomed to the emotionally stunted king of curses.

"please, sukuna," and you loathe how it sounds as though you are begging once more, hoping there's no hint of the bitterness of your tone, no crack of anger, but it is hard to tie that mask in place when it seems like every part of your body is breaking, aching and exhausted, "i just gave birth to your child, our child. everything hurts, and i'm tired, and i just want to rest," you pause, and the words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, "and now you're off sitting here, and you didn't even want to hold her? what am i supposed to do?"

even you are surprised by the rawness in your own voice, the trembling that has begun to spread across your chest, until you realise with a quiet shock that your eyes are wet, and your face is streaking with tears that leave your head laden and heavy. you had not meant to lose composure like this, but now there they are, hot and clinging.

and sukuna's usual stoicism seems momentarily shattered. he's staring at you as if you have sprouted horns, as though an extra head has sprung from your neck. it is a subtle change, the faintest narrowing of his brows, the way his lips press together in an effort to tamp down whatever rude words he was going to spring forth upon his already fraying wife. but at this point in time, you do not care to read him, nor to decipher the layers of his complex, decaying heart.

but his rough hand reaches out, almost clumsily, and they brusqely brush the damp streaks from your cheeks. the gesture is far too gentle for one who only responds to strength, violence, and sometimes, decapitation.

but it is the first gesture of tenderness that he has offered in what feels like an age, "stop that, woman. this does not befit you," and the edges of his robe catch the falling droplets from your face, dampening the silk.

and sukuna's mouth is now downturned, the edges of his lips twisting in that familiar, inscrutable way. you wonder, for the thousandth time, how he ever reconciles the savage nature of the beast that he has become, with the faintest echo of what was once humanity beating in his chest, "wasn't trying to upset you, brat."

his voice pricks at you, and you wipe the last remnants of tears from your skin, but there's a sudden warmth in your cheeks, at the embarrassment of breaking like this, rather than lingering sorrow.

"if you're that desparate to know, my mother was a servant."

you blink, unsure whether you are hearing correctly, for sukuna's voice does not even falter, despite the apparent chink in his impenetrable armour. but this is no great surprise, perhaps, his mother had been a concubine to a lord, some powerful man, or the emperor himself?

sukuna had now looked away from you, his gaze turned to the darkened sky, "lived in the palace. or actually...worked there, didn't get to even live there. they had her live in some shack off on the edge of the estate," and his voice is like the wind in a sealed tomb, bitter and stale.

"with the animals," you murmur, and it is not intended to be cruel. you know better than to speak so carelessly with sukuna, and you have learnt that pity is something he cannot abide, he abhors it. has never wanted it, not from you, his wife or queen, nor any other.

but now sukuna grunts, low and gutteral, "don't even remember much of it. could only keep a stupid goat in there, at best."

you find yourself absently fiddling with the hem of your robe, the thin fabric slipping through your fingers, past your nails.

"and your father?" you wonder if he can hear the question that hangs on the edge of your words, a powerful man? even the emperor of that time had been known to dabble in jujutsu, and other forms of more foreign magic from the continental homeland.

"no name that i would waste my time mentioning," and sukuna's tone is heavy with disdain, and a sneer has spread on his face, having slipped past the mask of constant indifference, "or a name that i would have even bothered to find and learn. clearly...didn't care for the likes of mother. some lowly foot soldier she met one night, never appeared before her again."

you're not quite sure how to respond, how to fit his surprising words into a world that you're familiar with. you, born with royal blood in your veins, a lineage of kings and khans. you, who grew up in a palace with a gruff but loving father, and an overbearing but kind mother, or the warmth of a large band of siblings swarming around you.

you, who had never gone to bed cold, always had a fire on her back, had grown up with jewels draped across your neck.

"must not have been easy, sukuna."

you watch him closely, and you can tell that he's doing his utter best to wave your gaze away, to disguise this as a casual tale, one to be dismissed on the morrow. but you wonder, with a sense of sorrow, if there is a single living soul alive who has been privy to this story, aside from uraume, most likely.

but sukuna shrugs, a quick and careless motion, and the movement tousles his head of rosy hair, sharp spikes swaying, "she said i had been born in a time of famine," and you can hear him running his tongue behind his teeth, "that she had to serve the emperor fine banquets everyday, while she came home to not even two sticks of wood to put together for a fire."

and then, he turns his second pair of eyes on you, those crimson eyes that seem to see straight through the world, "said she had no idea how i even survived to birth," and your lower region pangs at the mention of your recent labours, "that it was a miracle that i had been born strong enough to live past a few hours in the cold."

you squeeze his calloused hand again, a soft press of rare reassurance to one who most likely does not care for such sentiments, and this time he allows it — a kind mercy you think, born of some unwilling guilt that lingers from having you weep.

for a fleeting moment, his hand remains, coarse over yours, but his expression hardens once more, like magma went hit with the cool wind. he pulls his hand away with a swiftness that makes your heart ache.

"sounds like she really loved you," you hum, but the words sound weak even to your own ears. unable to change anything, or stitch over whatever scars shaped the king of curses, but you say them anyway, fumbling for something to offer.

his scarlet gaze flickers to you once more, and for a moment, you think he might scoff. but instead, sukuna gives you a peculiar, twisted look, as though caught between disbelief, and a painful, begrudging acknowledgement.

"i- sure," and his voice is lower than the muted tone that you're accustomed, rough but listless, "used to sit there, putting scraps of cloth together for the winter. from the sacks used to carry feed for the horses."

you wince, unbidden, as the image cuts through you like a blade. of a faceless child draped in rough, burlap-like cloth, and a mother's raw hands working to piece together anything that might keep her son warm through the cold winters. but it is hard, hard to see that faceless child as the king of curses now, no matter how you peer up at sukuna's stern profile.

you think of your newborn daughter, her soft and downy cheeks. the way she had nestled into you with such implicit trust. you try to imagine the same tenderness in the woman who was the mother of the demon later known as ryomen sukuna, but when you close your eyes all you see is death and war, blood painting four hands as they pulled off man's head, clean at the jugular — at your wedding feast.

"how did you survive?" and the question feels intrusive, almost cruel, but he's only given you a fractured and worn story, a thread that you're dying to follow.

sukuna gives you a sharp look, his brows knitting as he takes in the mild teary hitch in your voice, "don't start getting weepy on me now," he huffs, coarse but not callously, "you asked to know. and don't think i'm going to sit here, and hold your hand through it."

you nod, chastened but affronted, as he continues, "i did what any child would have done. stole what i could from under the carts of merchants, bread from the palace, scraps from the barracks or medicine."

"medicine?" you ask, your curiosity slipping through.

sukuna's expression darkens, and for the first time, there's a flicker of something far more raw in his eyes, and you don't quite appreciate the way he's glowering at you as if it were your doing, "she was sick. sometimes."

the words are clipped, meant to cut short any sympathy you might try to offer, but they lodge deep in your heart all the same. and in a cruel corner of your mind, a thought emerges.

was it birthing him that made her sick? did it consume her spirit and body, the birth of the king of curses?

fortunately, and unbeknownst to your lord husband, shame rises to your cheeks as swiftly as the notion comes, hot and furious. you swallow it down, forcing your lips to stay shut, horrified with your own insensitive thought.

but now the silence is stretching before you, as a long yawn. you glance at him again, at the defiant set of his shoulders, and you shake your head of the ridiculous surge of protectiveness towards a beast, one such as sukuna. but you still cannot picture him as a small and gaunt boy, with quick and desparate hands, trying to survive a life that he did not ask for.

"she must have been proud of you."

sukuna sneered, but it lacked its usual edge, "proud?" he shakes his head, glancing at you with an expression you can't quite name, "would've wanted better than this."

better than what? you want to ask. better than the wealthiest man in the realm? the most powerful sorcerer in written history? the king of curses?

but what do you know? and so, the words don't come. instead, your fingers twitch in your lap, aching to reach for him again, and knowing that he would just pull away once more.

"and yet, men compose sonnets of your power. the king of all the light and shadow touches," and your voice must be laced with a quiet wonder, at what it is to be so feared, but it is not admiration.

"my mother did not want that for me," sukuna says, his tone sharp, ruminating with a hard expression, "but i did it anyway. they wouldn't take me at first, not a child with no family to present him, nor gold to weigh in his favour," and the words are low, and biting, as if speech sits bitter on his tongue, "so i took up the sword. trained until i was good enough to join the legions."

"and then?" though you know that there is little point in asking, for the tale is now one that you have heard before. written in dried blood, and throughout history. it is famous on the mainland, on the islands, on the continent, to where the horse-lord khans are now raising great empires. but hearing it from sukuna's mouth feels different, like tracing your fingers over the jagged edge of a rough wound.

"sought power in other place," and now he's looking down at you, physically, but also knowing him, quite literally, "soft thing like you has never seen the rest of the world, but there were masters who never answered to a throne."

"crushed every army of the great clans, north to south, every squad of the sun, moon and stars. brought them to their knees, one by one, and tore their throats out," and you can hear how sukuna's tongue kisses his teeth when he speaks, as if he's reminiscing the taste of beautiful iron in his mouth, "and when it was done, the emperor, the same one who ruled while my mother and i rotted on his estate...he bowed to me."

"they invited me to the harvest festival after that," he continues, his lips twisted in a bitter smirk, "in the capital. worshipped me like an idol, some ancient hero."

it's never lost on you on how sukuna's tone is the most pleased when thinking about how blood rips from ripe arteries and wounds. but his eyes are colder than the snow-capped mountains of the earlier months, and they betray no joy nor triumph. it is simply what happened, as if told from the vantage of a stranger.

you hesitate, the next question caught in your throat. but the need to know burns brighter than your fear, "your father," you say carefully, and there. the tell-tale clench of sukuna's sculpted jaw, "he was a soldier, was he not?"

his eyes remain fixed beyond the terrace, where the light faded long ago. for a moment, you think that sukuna has not heard you. but then, he speaks, his voice akin to the rumble of thunder on a faraway horizon, "my father," and his tone is entirely devoid of feeling, "could have been one of the soldiers i killed, i care not."

"what did you mother say after all that?"

for a moment, the silence stretches between you, heavy and unyielding. and privately, you have grown much tired of this brooding quiet, but you fancy not being blown to ashes alongside the rest of this estate, so you let him linger.

but sukuna has inhaled sharply, and his wandered gaze has snapped back with an edge you hadn't expected, "i wouldn't know," and now, this feels more like an open wound, "died when i was twelve winters."

there is no softness in his tone, no tremble or catch to suggest the pain of memory, for it is too old and too familiar. but the world around you seems to dim as he still speaks, "hadn't learnt reversed curse technique by then. hah, if she had lived longer..."

and sukuna closes his mouth with a snap, as if an unseen poison has dredged to the surface. for it is not within the king of curses's nature to regret. to wonder what if?

you can see it in the way sukuna's hand clenches at his side, the subtle twitch of his mouth. it is not grief that overtakes him, nor even regret. it is something darker, colder — a wound that time has turned to scar tissue but never truly healed.

and again, you try. to imagine her, a woman bent by the weight of a hard life but still fierce in her love for her son. you still cannot see a face, but you can picture frail hands threading through coarse fabric into a makeshift tunic, telling her son stories to chase away the hunger and cold of the night. and you wonder about fate's cruel hands, for her son would first grow into a man, and then something crueler and inhuman, one who could topple armies and empires, one who sung fangs into still-beating hearts. but not in time to save her.

it is a sad story, but you know better than to offer your apologies. one thing still lingers in your mind, pressing against your thoughts like a stone beneath rushing water.

"what does this have to do with your daughter?"

your husband suddenly looks at you, quizzical, and he's faintly confused. you frown, clarifying before he can twist your meaning, "it's just...you seemed upset after holding her. i thought -"

sukuna's expression shifts, a flash of irritation breaking through his impassiveness, "what? that i loathed the sight of her?" his lips curl into a smirk, laced with a drier humour, "hope she got my brains, and not yours."

you scowl at him, your indignation quick but shallow at his cheap barbs. without much thought, you jab an elbow into his bare side. but he doesn't flinch, of course he doesn't. but a mild smile breaks through, faint as dawn's first light. and for now, it's enough for you.

but then sukuna's face clouds again, and the weight of his brooding thoughts seems to settle over him once more. you sigh, and venture a guess, your voice quieter now, gentler, "you’re worried about her because she was born as you were."

sukuna scoffs, "tch! don’t make me sound so weak and weepy, like you."

"ryomen," you say, letting his name stretch out, both affectionate and exasperated, "it's alright to care about your infant daughter. no one is going to topple your throne over it."

"i'd invite them to try," he snarls, shooting you a hard look, like you were going to raise an army later that day.

"it wasn't easy for me," he adds, and the edges of his words are brittle, "didn't quite have that grasp on jujutsu when i was younger. ended up even melding flesh together to try and hide two arms out of four. or...almost crushing them together so they would break and bend."

"what a cruel strife, delivered upon a child," you're frowning, at the vivid imagery and at how sukuna delivers it in such a matter-of-fact way.

but your husband dips his chin, and you're left staring and wondering, just what it would take to have him break away from his unholy pride, "a fair exchange," he says, "wasn't a stranger to what people called me. or thought."

"you know what the difference is?" and you've paused long enough for the words to settle, to break him out of his reverie, "our daughter has a loving father," and sukuna's face twitches.

"and," now, you point at yourself, "a loving mother. i do think she will grow up strong."

you almost say that she will grow up safe, happy, content. peaceful. but you had stopped yourself, for you had pushed the king of curses enough for one night, emotionally at least, and you know that 'strong' is something that he respects, something that he can hope for without feeling lesser for it.

"she better," he grunts, and you smile at the faintest glimmer of pride slipping into his voice, pride at what he deems a worthy creation from him, and you, "i don't care if she was born today, i need to see her cursed technique."

"sukuna!" you snap fiercely, and it just draws a rich laugh from him, one that makes you sigh too, for you think that your husband is often (and ironically) like the sun. for when he blazes far too hot, and bright, you can feel the burn sting. but when sukuna glows, all tend to clamour to bask in his rare warmth.

you laugh with him, the sound light in the still of the night, and before he can pull away or grumble something sardonic, you press a soft kiss to his cheek. sukuna huffs above you, the noise low and guttural, a half-hearted complaint about how he is being suffocated, but you feel the warmth bloom under your lips.

and it is sweet, in its own odd way, at how his creamy skin flushes quickly, betraying him, and his lower set of eyes flutter close. for a brief moment, the king of curses is almost bashful, the storm clouds parting as quickly as they came.

as you rise to your feet, you feel the ache in your thighs, but you tug lightly at his hefty arms, urging him, "come, my lord," you say, your tone teasing but warmer, "come see your daughter now."

sukuna doesn’t move at first, his gaze following yours, tracing the place where you had just been sitting. his expression shifts, darkening as his eyes fall on something. "is that blood?" he asks, the words sharp and low.

you glance down, catching sight of the vivid smear on the stone—a crimson stain stark against the dimly lit fabric. your shoulders tighten, a flicker of embarrassment sweeping through you before you remember that this is not your fault, and you glower, your voice bristling. "afterbirth," you mutter, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the moment. "would have been nicer to pass in my own bed."

the faintest quirk touches his lips, an almost-smile that flickers and vanishes as quickly as it came. "you must be hungry," he says, his tone succint but carrying the faint edge of something softer—something close to concern, though he would never name it as such, and call you foolish if you did.

you sigh, the weight of exhaustion pressing against you like the tide, for you desperately wished to rest, "you have no idea," half a complaint, half a confession.

sukuna doesn’t reply immediately, but you catch the way his gaze softens, lingering just long enough to remind you that, despite his gruffness, he cares more than he lets on. perhaps, in his own way, he is just as raw and exposed as you are now.

again, you tug at his marked arms, insistent, and he sighs — long-suffering, as if your request were a monumental task. yet, he rises, uncoiling his tall frame until he towers over you, the shadows darkening most of what is around you.

before you can utter another word, he sweeps you close, all four of his arms encircling you with an ease that borders on reverence. his lips brush against your forehead, fleeting but gentle, a moment so tender it nearly takes your breath away.

and then, like clockwork and a theatrical grimace, sukuna pushes you away, his expression twisting into an exaggerated mask of disgust. it's his strange, unpolished way of showing affection, and you can’t help but snicker, the sound light and unburdened.

"you’re ridiculous," you tease, though your smile lingers, soft and warm, and he mutters some comment about how he doesn't even like you.

"you know,” you begin, "i asked uraume to hold our daughter in the meantime."

His eyes widen, incredulous, and for a moment, he looks genuinely doubtful, "huh, this entire time. uraume cannot have agreed to that."

"they did!" you insist, triumph lighting your voice, thinking of the petulant sorcerer probably making faces at your baby indoors.

sukuna shakes his head, muttering as if the mere notion defied all reason, he who had seen mountains turn to dust and oceans part. "unbelievable," he says, his tone caught between disbelief and faint admiration, as though uraume's rare acquiescence were an impossible feat.

you had returned indoors, arm entwined with one of sukuna's which had pulled you close with a sudden, almost possessive gesture.

and lo and behold, you found uraume still kneeling by the cradle, with their eyes fixed on the infant, who was staring back at the ice-sorcerer with curious intensity, oddly knowing for one so small.

and uraume, typically stoic and cold, leans in loser to the child, now gentle and cooing, "yes," they murmur, "and when you are all grown up, you will listen to me. i don't care if sukuna has a stroke. your father is prone to theatrics, and your mother is prone to equal dramatics. but you can learn from the best there is, me."

sukuna, ever the cynic, guffaws, "i hope you are not indoctrinating my heir," you laugh at the flicker of amusement in both sets of his eyes.

you catch the briefest glimpse of an embarrassed flush on uraume's pallid cheeks before the sorcerer quickly recovers, lips pursing in an exaggerated show of indifference.

"i do not care for this pudgy thing," uraume huffs, the words a touch too hasty as they thrusts the child back into your arms, clearly uncomfortable with the softening of their usually unyielding nature.

and when sukuna's peering down at the child, with barely veiled interest, the same set of eyes that you carry end up meeting blood-red eyes with teeth.

your daughter, promptly robbed of uraume's gentler attention and less-monstrous features, begins to wail, loud and teary, as sukuna growls, affronted.

"can't you put the child back in you?"

the linked artwork belongs to the artist. but the header and writing belong to curtins.tumblr.com. likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, but do not repost my work!

[creatchie8]

The First Daughter

Summary: Hopelessly in love with the agent assigned to protect you, you devise a plan to reveal his true feelings

Pairing: Secret Service!Robert Floyd/First Daughter!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! Oral (F receiving), alcohol consumption

A/N: I got obsessed watching the 2004 film, First Daughter, and took lots of inspo from that movie. I'd love to have him sworn to protect me ;) (Not proofread, I wrote this speedy fast)

Word Count: 3,500ish

The two of you had been playing eye tag the whole night. 

And with every sip of the red wine you took, the more bold you became. Your cheeks felt warm as the alcohol slowly made your body buzz with excitement, ankles wobbling just a bit on the dancefloor in your red-bottomed heels. The orchestra that was hired played absolutely magnificently, the music changing between jazz and waltz, filling the (already full) large ballroom. 

Marvelous gold chandeliers basked everything in a soft, warm glow. The regality of it all took you back in time, you imagine this is what it would look like if you were a princess in the 1920s. The paintings of your forefathers adorned the walls along with rich brown velvet curtains, a perfect contrast to the light walls and columns. 

It was the second New Years with your mother as President, the first with Agent Robert Floyd by your side. 

Robert was younger- mid thirties, some modest Navy man looking to change his career path when he got assigned to you after completing his training at the JJRTC in South Laurel, Maryland. He was incredibly unassuming, following you around quietly as you went about your day at Harvard or home. 

How you ended up here at your mother’s party in DC trying to get a reaction out of the man, you don’t know. Maybe you were delusional, somehow you had convinced yourself that he felt something for you (love or lust, you didn’t know). It was the man’s job for god sakes, to follow you around and make you feel safe. You were not special to him in any way. 

Within the last five months though, it felt like one of those steamy romance slow burn books you are always hearing about on social media. Lately, his gaze lingered longer than it should have when the two of you were in private. He opened up more, responding in detail when you would ask him questions about his life instead of the short one word answers he used to give before analyzing your surroundings again. 

His voice was soft when he spoke to you, his hand finding your lower back like it was his own personal polar star when the crowd around you thickened. It was like the longer he was assigned to you the more his shell melted. Robert of course had time away from you, even as your agent he must eat and sleep. But when he would return and replace whoever was watching you before, he would ask to be caught up on when he was away. 

No agent had ever had interest in you like that before. 

You were probably just incredibly horny, being the President’s daughter doesn't get you much action, or at least not the kind you want. And you knew it was bad to want Robert Floyd, but somehow that made you desire him even more. 

The dress you were wearing tonight may or may not have been picked out with your agent in mind. Floor length and velvety black, the soft fabric smooth against your middle. A neckline that was perfectly flattering of your chest, a simple necklace sitting on top of your collarbones delicately but also working to help draw eyes to your cleavage. Surely modest enough for the gathering but eye catching for sure. 

He was stationed near a pair of opened doors, pressed against the wall in a neat black and white tuxedo, a metal american flag pinned neatly on his left lapel. It was standard dress for every agent that was there, but to you Robert stood out as by far the most handsome one. Light brown hair combed perfectly to the side. His blue eyes scanned the crowd in a zig-zag motion, stuttering and stopping on you when you were in view, his unique glasses glinting in the light. 

The whole night you had been inching closer, using the excuse of mingling to hop from table to table (intermittently being taken to the dance floor by your father or some diplomat's son) and closer to his door. At one point you looked up from where you were leaning on a table, catching his eyes. 

A few times tonight that had already happened only for him to look away swiftly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he straightened his shoulders. But this time he held your gaze, almost defensively as his brows furrowed the tiniest bit. He probably assumed you would take one for the team and back down first this time. But that second glass of wine you were halfway done with was leaving you valiant, his determination causing the side of your mouth to tick up the tiniest bit. 

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he admitted a silent defeat, flicking his eyes elsewhere. 

Never a rude host, you turned your attention back to the guest you were chatting with, letting her finish her story before politely excusing yourself elsewhere. With your clutch in hand and your wine abandoned at the table, you set off to the open door. With this newfound confidence you strut (albeit somewhat off balance) like you had every intention in the world to just leave for the bathroom and come back with no ulterior motive. 

But you like to think Robert knew you like the back of his hand, watching him bring his right arm up, speaking into the microphone in his sleeve. An agent still had not relieved him as you passed by, eyes forward even though in your peripheral you noticed his head turn to you. 

It wasn't until your heels hit the magnificent marble staircase that you heard his footsteps following you, echoing through the hall. Your left hand grabbed the front of the dress, hiking it well above your ankles as you climbed the stairs. Shockingly, there was no one loitering in this part of the building. Passing by a grandfather clock on the opposite wall you squint to make out the thin arms, concluding that it was in fact, almost midnight. The smell of pine lingered outside the ballroom, drifting into almost nothing the further you got. 

You had already passed by two bathrooms as you led Robert on a wild goose chase through the building, trying to find the perfect spot. He was beyond patient with you, finally caught up and only a few short steps behind. 

When you finally found what room you were looking for, you stopped short, letting his muscular body bump into yours before spinning around. Robert looked mortified, already stuttering beginnings of apologies as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket, thumb accidentally turning the pin askew before pulling him into the empty room (with remarkable force you might add). 

In a whirlwind of moving bodies you suddenly found yourself back against the closed door, that same mortified look on his face as he stood there trapped in the room. In the shuffle you had dropped your clutch near your feet, the beaded satchel slumped against the dark mahogany floor. 

The room was simple, a pool table in the center and a few chairs nestled close to the unlit fireplace. There was a bookcase somewhere in the room, hidden by the veil of darkness. The moonlight showed through two good sized windows on the wall facing you, his back illuminated by the light. 

“I thought you needed to go to the bathroom.” He stated, clearly confused as his brows furrow. You could barely see his face and it might've been the alcohol but you were falling hard. 

“I changed my mind.” You crossed your arms, body heavy against the great door. 

“You wanted to play…” He turned towards the pool table then back to you, “pool?” His eyes continue to search the room, mapping out his surroundings like he always does. 

Huffing at his lack of interest in you, you get straight to the point, “Robert, do you think I’m attractive?” It comes out brattier than you intend and you close your mouth with an audible click.

“What?” His attention is back to you in an instant, eyes wide behind his glasses. 

“I asked, do you think I’m attractive?” Repeating yourself, biting your bottom lip hard at your own boldness. It takes a few seconds for him to respond to you, opening and closing his mouth a few times while he processes your question. 

“Y-You're incapacitated, please let me help you back downstairs.” He says calmly, but you can see right through it. The mask he is putting on causes you to roll your eyes dramatically. Robert steps forward, hands outstretched to presumably grab your shoulders so it's easier to guide you back to your parents. The action makes your stomach light up in excitement, your first reaction is pushing yourself off the door and away from his reach, further into the room. 

“I am anything but ‘incapacitated’. I’m tipsy.” You declare matter of factly, cheeks burning in the warm room. Now your back was to the window, your positions switched. 

“That still falls under the definition of incapacitated.” 

“I think you're attractive.” Your voice was suddenly much quieter, now toe to toe with a man visibly sweating bullets. “I've thought about it since I met you-” The sober part of you shuts your mouth, a nonsense love confession pushing against your teeth. He refused to respond, still as a statue sans his blue eyes tracing your face.

“Why were we playing eye tag from the moment the party started?” You press, determined to not back down until your question was answered. 

“My job is to look after you.” A very real explanation to your question. The opposite of what you want. 

“Is it your job to clench your teeth when I dance with other guys?” Just the mere mention of it has his upper lip twitching, and you know you've got your answer. You look up at him through mascaraed eyelashes, sweaty hands reaching up (surprisingly more shaky than you thought) to clutch at his black lapels. 

You would've thought he’d stop you, it would be easy in your impaired state to grab your wrists and haul you down to the party in a cloud of shame. But he watched as you focused on his pin, pinching it between your forefinger and thumb to adjust it.  

You don't process that he’s moved his hand up until he is brushing the hair out of your face that escaped your modest updo. His fingertips are gentle, and you begin to worry that this is the end before it has even begun, that he’s about to open his mouth and let you down easy. Pressing your hands firmly against his warm chest you weakly try to push back, the fear of rejection drenching your whole body.

He caught you unexpectedly by the shoulders, fingers wrapping around your bare upper biceps. Holding you close firmly, you gave up pushing away and dropped your arms to your side. Robert was searching your eyes before letting a long sigh out his nose. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-” You close your eyes and tilt your head back to the ceiling, “I guess I am a little incapacitated.”  Placing emphasis on the word to lighten the mood, not wanting to look at him to save yourself from embarrassment. 

You were aware of everything on your body with your eyes closed. The tickle of your hair on your neck, the way your dress hugged your body, you could even feel the way your heels teetered on the hardwood. Worst of all, you felt his warm, calloused hands smoothing down your naked arms. 

Then you felt one of his hands leave your arm, trailing up and up to your neck and cradling the back of your skull. Robert pulled your head up but still you kept your eyes closed. 

“You don’t understand what you’re asking." A quiet waltz played from the floor below, accompanying his words that stung like rubbing alcohol in a cut. Your eyes snap open in an instant, rapidly blinking to clear them from the blurriness. You could barely think coherent thoughts between his hand still on the back of your neck and his painful words. 

“I do know what I’m asking-” You exclaimed defiantly, “and I’m not stupid-”

“I never said you were stupid.” He cut you off abruptly, his warm breath fanned across your face in short puffs. You clenched your fists by your sides, your body itchy with annoyance.

“Robert. I swear to god if you interrupt me aga-” 

And then he kissed you. And all you could do was rip yourself away from him in vexation, opening your mouth to hiss something at him about fucking interupting you again. 

As you stumbled back you realized something. He was looking back at you like you had sprouted a third ear, and the disbelief in his eyes made you want to go search for a mirror to see if you actually did. 

“Oh.” You touched your lips, desire starting a low buzz beneath your skin. He had kissed you. And it felt good. 

“Yeah.” Robert said, almost sheepishly. 

“Ohh-” Was all you could get out before he was on you again, his hands connecting with your waist while yours cupped his cheeks and jaw, pulling him closer. 

It was frantic and messy, you felt light headed by the lack of oxygen. Your lipgloss had smeared all over your lips and his, the soft vanilla flavor all you could taste when you licked into his open mouth. Warmth blossomed in your chest as his hands sank lower to cup your ass through your dress, his lips migrating from yours to your jaw, leaving a light trail of saliva in their path. 

Hands trailing up to rest against the nape of his neck, the short hair tickling your palms as you bit your bottom lip, stifling whines as his lips worked against the sensitive parts of your neck. It was too much yet not enough as his hands roamed over your body and yet managed to miss everywhere you needed him the most. 

“S-Stop teasing me.” You managed to pant out, a gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips as Robert’s cold glasses pressed into your neck. You grab his hand from where it was resting under your breast, walking backwards blindly in search of the pool table. Your other arm was outstretched behind you, acting as a buffer in case you trip and fall. 

Robert stumbled along like an obedient dog, reaching up with his unoccupied hand to yank the earpiece from his ear so it just dangled from his button up collar. When your bum hit the pool table he lifted you up and set you upon the edge with no hesitation, making butterflies kick up in your stomach. You were still in awe over his strength that you didn't even realize he had delicately slipped your straps from your shoulders and his hands were behind your back, pinching your zipper.

“May I?” He asked softly, awaiting your response. He was absolutely gorgeous, the moonlight illuminated only one side of his face. His hair was tousled and his lips were red from the kisses. Fine lines carefully etched into his features, the only sign of his age. 

Your stomach flipped as you nodded, inhaling a deep breath through your nose as he invaded your space, slotting himself between your thighs. Robert looked over your shoulder and pressed a few soft kisses there as he carefully unzipped your dress. Your hands drifted up and grasped at his belt, the silver metal burning your fingertips with cold as you clumsily fought with it. 

His lips returned to your mouth as he slowly pulled the dress down over your breasts, urging your hands away from his now unzipped slacks and through the arm holes of your dress. Although the air was warm to your cheeks and back, it made goosebumps rise along your chest, nipples perking up as the top fell to your lap. 

You hardly noticed his lips leaving yours until you felt him push on your left shoulder, guiding you back so you were propped up on your elbows on the deep green baize. A protest died in your throat as his lips wrapped around a nipple, his warm tongue lapping at the stiff peak. A startled cry left your mouth as you felt his hand tweak your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

You let your head drop back as his mouth switched to your other nipple, his fingers pinching the other. The black dress still was around your legs, thighs straining the fabric as you silently begged for him to touch your now aching core. You lifted up a heeled foot, pressing one of his thighs closer to your center.

Robert takes the hint, much to your relief and slips his hands down your body. You can feel every callous, every fingernail as he presses them into your soft skin and eventually grips his fists into the dress gathered near your knees. 

 You try to focus on the ceiling, which looked like it stretched miles above the both of you, crown molding decorating the edges and hand painted vines adorned the flat space between. 

Slowly, just as Robert lifts your knees up and over his shoulders and sinks to the ground, you lower yourself flat against the green, arms outstretched above your head.  

Your lower half was bare, save for the midnight black dress pooling around your waist. Robert’s breath huffed against your clothed core, drawing your attention back to him. 

“Fuck…” You hear him whisper hoarsely. And only then can you feel his fingers drawing your panties to the side, a sharp gust of cold air drifting over your dripping pussy. The praise heats your cheeks, a swell of shyness bubbles within your chest. The panties are placed over your core and Robert presses his face against the silky black fabric, startling you. 

You start to sit up on your elbows again, a moan caught in your throat as you watch him bury his nose and mouth in the damp silk, taking a deep inhale with his eyes closed. Savoring your smell as he mouths against you. It was tortuous, his blunt fingernails digging into the meat of your thighs. His cheeks are red, his groans vibrating against you as his glasses begin to fog. 

“Please, Robert. I can’t-” Is all you can get out before he is ripping your panties to the side and licking you whole. With that one motion your thighs are already quivering on either side of his head. His flush trails down to his neck, hiding under the tight collar of his button up. 

Your stomach tightens as the tip of his tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth and savoring it like a piece of hard candy. With your mouth open, all you can do is stare with blurry eyes. Robert was consuming you like a man starved, his ministrations relaxing your muscles and turning you into jello before him. 

“Robert, I-” You begin, outstretching your arm to grasp at his hair.

“Hmmm?” He hums, his mouth still working against you, jaw clenching as you attempt to push him back. Robert looked up at you through long eyelashes, eyes glazed over as if he was the one getting the most pleasure out of it. 

“Please more- oh god do not stop.” You were not above begging. And thank god because that was all it took to convince him. At once he returned to your needy pussy, his right hand slipping from the top of your thigh to your juncture. His middle finger prodded at your entrance, slipping in with little resistance. 

Back arching, you drop down to rest fully on the soft baize. Gasping as he managed to press another finger in. They were big, stretching you. The sensation bites but is quickly soothed as he curls them, beckoning an orgasm out of your body. 

Your chest heaves as your body tightens, moaning nonsense as you get closer and closer. The man between your legs doubling his efforts as if you had told him you were almost there. 

And then your body snaps. It’s like submerging yourself in a warm bath, you cannot breathe, in fear you might drown in the water. But weightless nonetheless. 

He rises to his feet, and you are still boneless on the table. Pussy pulsing, only to be covered up again by your wet panties. The feeling is terribly uncomfortable, drawing a whine from your chest. 

Even more shockingly, you do not even get a moment to revel in the afterglow before he is pulling you up by your elbow.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You huff in half hearted annoyance as he is already pulling your straps up and attempting to zip your dress.

“It is almost midnight-” He finishes zipping up your dress, “I suggest we go celebrate it with your guests.” 

You blink and look up at him, reaching up and fixing his hair as a soft smile graces his features. Your cheeks heat as you remember the party downstairs, how only the two of you know that his face was between your legs just moments ago. 

“Y-Yes.” You clear your throat and adjust your straps, offering him your hand, “I suppose we should.”

[lily-bisque]

✎ a lesson in love

part 1 - flutterings

៹ series masterlist

synopsis: your bestfriend, satoru gojo, has always been the smartest. yet, when he begins to question his true feelings for you after unwanted sparks of jealousy ignite in him, he wonders how exactly he’ll manage to make you fall, too.

chapter wc: 3.1k

taglist (open): > @bobateea @sylusonlylove @aporcelainphantom @kay-the-ghost

“J-just… sob really loudly into the phone when I give you the signal. Sound good?” His voice was urging you, cerulean orbs searching yours for any hint of agreement. His somewhat overgrown locks fell over his forehead and stood out in awkward places, his look messy yet neat.

You scoffed, turning your head to the side and lifting your hand, palm up, between the both of you. He glanced down at it and huffed, digging in his pockets and muttering curses.

There was no way you were doing this for free.

Pulling out a wad that was definitely too much—but he didn’t care, and you wouldn’t complain—he slapped it in your hand and sighed, staring down at you once more. “This enough?”

Giving him your cheeriest smile, you clasped your hands and brought them behind your back, rocking on your heels and giggling. “Absolutely perfect. Won’t letcha’ down, Serge. Great doin’ business with you.” You mock-saluted him, standing in attention form, then turned on your heels, heading back into your dorm room and counting the bundle of cash.

Satoru Gojo—elitist 4.5 GPA, Student Council President, Captain of the Digimon club, and all-time 4-eyed nerd was your best friend. The two of you grew up alongside one another, ever since you’d both been clad in diapers and drool. Fast-forward to now, at your private university in Tokyo which you both attended, Gojo’s mom had set him up for blind date after blind date. She was worried that once the senior year dawned upon him, he’d be a depressed and single loser with his figurine collection.

He wasn’t the most fond of these arranged blind dates; after every single one of ‘em, he’d complain to you.

“That knowing and pitying look in her eyes, like I’m some fuckin’ clueless virgin she’s come to rescue, pissed me off.”

“She didn’t ask me any questions about myself. Not one. Ya know, just cause’ I’m double majoring in history and english, doesn’t mean I’m some guy whose too absorbed in his schoolwork to tell when she’s bored.”

“Her mom was with her. Dude. It was like I was on a date with her mom. She just sat there as her mother bombarded me with question after question-.”

It’s been a few months of this back and forth, so he managed to devise a plan to get rid of the dates. You, ever the sweetheart, offered your assistance after hearing his grievances, but when it started to eat away at your personal life as he’d call for help during a study session or even a date of yours, you needed some form of compensation.

So that’s how you ended up where you are now—perched up in a cafe clad in a not-so-subtle trench coat, black sunglasses, a scarf that was way too itchy, and a newspaper you snagged from an old lady who fell asleep on a bench outside. She wouldn’t miss it, right? After all, you were only borrowing it—planning to sneakily slide it back into her lap as you headed back out.

The sound of a bell reached your ears, signaling a new customer entering the cafe. Snowy tresses registered in your mind as you peeked over the top of the newspaper, your best friend adjusting his rectangular glasses as he caught your eyes. A smirk crept up on his lips as he winked at you and turned back to his date.

The lady in question followed close behind him—she had silky brunette hair that reached her waist and rippled as she giggled at something Gojo said. What was so funny? Brushing her waves past her shoulder, you made out a simple pastel pink blouse that matched her flowing white midi-skirt. Her feet were adorned in the cutest kitten heels, and part of you wanted to ask her where she had gotten them from.

But no. You steeled your mind, pushing away any distractions as you slid out of your seat and moved to a further back corner of the cafe.

A waiter walked over to the both of them, ordering whatever drinks and pastries in this overpriced meet-cute spot that would be spoiled as Gojo never wasted his time in escaping. He barely put an effort into dressing up—still wearing his school uniform. Yes, your university was far too overpriced, arrogant, and prestigious that it had its students wearing uniforms up until the ripe age of 22.

Sliding your hand to your latte, you brought it up to your lips and took a deliberate sip, eyes never leaving the interaction. Around 5 minutes passed with them chuckling about whatever they were talking about, with no signal from Gojo. He never even glanced your way, his eyes refusing to break from the girl’s face.

She was gorgeous, you couldn’t blame him. But, since when did he care? It’d been a couple months of this exchange of him sucking up to his mom’s pestering with the hope that she would lay off. Eventually, she would run out of friends and acquaintances with daughters his age to ask.

So why was he entertaining this?

Tearing your gaze from the interaction, you checked your phone to see if he had maybe texted you, but you had no notifications. What the hell?

“Anything I can get for you, miss?” The sudden voice startled you, making you flinch in your seat and glance upwards. A waiter stood before you, giving you a sheepish smile before apologizing for sneaking up on you.

“Hah, no worries. You’re alright! A-and you don’t need to get me anything. M’ all set.” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you lifted your cup, nearly knocking it over and taking a knowing sip. He let out a low chuckle, the deep and velvety resonance entering your ears.

“I’ve seen you around campus, haven’t I?”

You titled your head, eyebrows furrowing as you scanned his face. “Have you?”

“Yeah. Tokyo Tech, right?” He said your name, and your heart nearly skipped a beat.

Nodding slowly, you took in the man’s entire form, giving him a slow once-over before you registered his familiarity. “Oh! You’re on the football team, aren’t you?”

Another laugh left his lips, this one sending a chill down your spine. “Yup. That’s me. Ino. Ino Takuma. Glad I made somewhat of an impression.”

You nodded slowly, clasping your hands in your lap as a question left your mouth faster than you’d intended. “Where on campus have you recognized me from?” Your campus was pretty big, so the fact that he not only recognized you but knew your name surprised you.

The man shifted in position, reaching his hand up to rub his nape, his gaze breaking away from you as he smiled nervously. “I sit next to you in literature and film.”

Your eyes widened, feeling your heart rate pick up as your hands clammed up. There’s no way you just embarrassed yourself like this–is he lying? No—he knew your name. How could you not notice him sitting next to you?

Literature and film was the advanced English course you’d been taking since early September, and it was well into October now. As a film studies major, you wanted to use this class for an honors thesis you’d be writing for an internship, and hearing that Gojo would be taking it as well made it all the more exciting since your schedules rarely aligned with your contrasting majors.

He picked up on your guilt-written expression, shaking his hands before you and chuckling. “Don’t worry about it. You’re usually with your friend, uh… Satoru Gojo. I didn’t expect you to notice my presence since you’re usually chatting with him.”

You nodded slowly, fiddling with the seamwork of the coat you had on and feeling embarrassed, cheeks flushing and all. “My bad. I’ll make sure to say hi on Tuesday,” you mumbled somewhat, clasping your hand over the opposite forearm and nibbling on your lip.

Ino glanced behind him, his gaze fixed on where Gojo was sitting and then turned back to you. “You two are usually hanging out. Why’re you here and… not there.” He pointed out.

You smiled awkwardly, adjusting the scarf that was tickling your neck. “It’s complicated.”

“Right… and I’m not gonna ask about the uh.. costume,” he trailed off with a chuckle, his gaze lingering on your clothes. Your cheeks burned as you opened your mouth to somehow defend yourself for the eccentric outfit, but you were interrupted.

“Ino, rush hour in 10. Need all hands on deck, c’mon!” Wow. They were serious for a cafe spot.

The brunette man turned and shouted back that he’d be there in a second before returning his gaze to you. “So uh… see you Tuesday?”

You plastered on a sweet grin, nodding your head and giving him a small wave. He returned the gesture and headed back into the kitchen.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you lifted your hands to your cheeks to feel warmth on the back of your hands. The entire encounter felt mortifying–how had you not noticed this guy for over a month ? To be honest, you didn’t even remember his name until he told you, unknowingly saving you the embarrassment.

You could blame that on Gojo–he made it his sole duty to make fun of you in your shared class whenever you were confused. He’d scribble over the notes you’d jot down, saying you didn’t need it, or smack you on the back of the head when you’d start losing consciousness out of boredom from the droning lecture.

…Speaking of Gojo–

Your gaze snapped upwards to where the man in question had been sitting, but both the seats were empty, their plates and cups still full, and a wad of cash laying idly on the table.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. Jumping from your seat, you grabbed the newspaper and your latte, heading outside in hopes of seeing them. Maybe they weren’t hungry… possibly taking a walk? The prospective thought made no sense as they wouldn’t leave their things behind in a mess, making you shake your head to brush the thought off and iron out any nerves that lingered.

One thing you knew—Gojo was going to kill you.

As you made your way to the door, you could see Gojo and his date on the other side of the street through the glass, deep in some sort of conversation.

Her arms were lifted and flailing, gesturing at the cafe you stood in, her face contorted in what looked to be anger. You could only guess she was yelling at him from the sideways glance the two received from bystanders.

Gojo had a hand draped on his neck, his expression reading with what looked to be remorse as he endured whatever insults she spat at him. Eventually, once she gathered her bearings, she stormed off and left him standing there.

Sliding as inconspicously as you could out of the restaurant in the hopes of avoiding him, the bell chimed again, and Gojo’s head snapped in your direction. He pushed his frames up his nose before his face twisted in—oh shit.

Turning on your heels, you passed by the elderly woman—who was somehow still snoring—and set the newspaper back onto her lap with a whispered ‘sorry’ and hurried down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Pretending not to feel the impending doom blooming in your chest, the feeling that prey experience as they sprint away from the strides of an advancing predator, you hurried your walk. Gojo had no issue catching up, however, as his slender fingers reached out and tugged against the nape of your coat.

A yelp left your lips as he pulled you to his chest, and you clasped your eyes shut. Oh man, were you going to get it. Not only that, he was probably going to take back the cash. The idea made your heart sink and sigh.

Your name left his lips, his tone dry and flat.

“Y-yes,” you stammered out, refusing to open your eyes.

“What the hell was that?” His question sounded rhetorical and you were ready to receive his chiding words. Your body braced itself for impact.

After a few excruciating moments, his grip loosened, and your feet settled on the ground. Huh? An eye peeked open in confusion before you turned around to see the distressed man.

Those large hands of his dragged across his face as he groaned, recounting the horrible events of the date. “Christ, I fucked up. I’m so mortified.” The reddened tinge tickling the crown of his ears didn’t go unnoticed to you.

You looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to the white haired man losing it in the middle of the sidewalk. To your surprise, no one was.

“Well, it couldn’t have been–,” the whisper that left your lips was starkly interrupted.

“No. It was that bad. It was the worst it could’ve been. It was so so so bad. So much worse than you think.”

Your heart rate picked up as your interest was piqued, ears perking up like a puppy. “What happened…” you questioned, feeling as if you were entering unmerited territory.

A grimace twisted in his face as the memories flashed back. “She… she was pissed that I wasn’t looking at her.”

“What? Why weren’t you looking at her?”

“Cause’ I was looking at you, dumbass. You and Ino chatting it up.”

You slapped a hand on his shoulder to which he flinched at. “You idiot. If you couldn’t at least finish the date, you should’ve given her some attention. You’re such an ass…” you trailed off, pinching his forearm to which he cursed you at before a question entered your mind. “Isn’t that what you wanted, though? Why’d she get so pissed off if you were just distracted?

A feigned smile made its way onto his face, radiating seething anger that nearly had you stepping backwards. “I wanted the date to end after I got distracted. She told me about her grandma who died recently when I called out for the signal at the same time.”

Your eyebrows shot up so high that they nearly touched your hairline. “W-w… you did what?”

Note: the signal the two of you managed to come up with was Gojo making an eagle sound. Literally “ca-cawing” and then blowing it off when his date would be confused, enter you with some sort of marvelous emergency he had to escape to. It made you giggle everytime.

The thought of him doing that after she revealed such a horrible truth–.

“Shut up,” he cursed through gritted teeth, glaring into your back. Now, you were on the ground, hands on the concrete as you struggled to catch your breath. Your stomach hurt from the laughs you were letting out, completely forgetting the two of you were in public.

Perching back on your heels once you’d calmed down, you looked up at Gojo, who looked far from pleased. “This funny to you?”

Standing up, you let out a few more giggles and brushed off your knees. “Extremely. And it’s your fault anyway. Why’d you take so long to signal for me?” You chuckled in between huffs.

Your eyes searched his, and his gaze changed to something unreadable. “Dunno. Thought she was funny,” he spoke softly, pupils darting left and right between yours as if he was assessing your reaction.

Turning away from him, you nodded your head and mulled the information over. “I could tell, asshat. You guys were giggling the second you walked in, she must’ve been hilarious.”

He fell into pace quickly beside you and leaned down to look at your face. “Ya think so?”

In the back of Gojo’s mind, he was searching your face for something, anything to hint at what he wanted to hear.

“Duh. You shouldn’t have signalled. If you liked her, you should’ve let the date keep going. Dunno why you were stupid enough to get distracted.”

That occasionally reocurring thought of his subsided, returning to his full length, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “What were you guys talkin’ about anyway?” Ah. He must be talking about Ino.

The memory of the encounter flashed back into your mind, making you sigh with embarrassment. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you teased and he scoffed. “Did you know he was in our lit. and film lecture?” You added

He nodded, furrowing his brows. “Yeah. He sits right next to you. You haven’t noticed?”

A loud groan left your lips as you jabbed your finger at the pedestrian push button and stopped your stride, gazing into the street. “I’m such an idiot, Gojo. Like… truthfully.”

He chuckles and ruffles your hair, to which you swat his arm at. “Yup. Don’t have to tell me that.”

You cursed him and waited for the walk signal, a comfortable silence settling between the both of you. “What do you… think of him?”

Gojo looked down at you, a confused expression crossing his face. “Ino? Dunno, I don’t really know him personally. We don’t uh… hang in the same crowds.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

The pedestrian walk signaled illuminated neon white, Gojo grabbing the back of your head and pushing you forward teasingly. “You really are oblivious to everything, aren’t’cha?” He joked, a knowing grin plastering on his face.

“Shut up! And no I’m not. I just don’t… I don’t pay close attention,” you defended, though you sounded pretty unconvinced which earned a chuckle from the man beside you.

“Yeah yeah. He’s captain of the football team. I’m basically summa cum laude. He’s a frat boy. And I’m uh… academically driven.”

“You mean a nerd?”

“Tomato, tomato.”

“Just because you two don’t run in the same crowd doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. Like, look at you and Geto. He’s not all that academically driven, yet you two are joined at the hip.”

“And you’re an idiot and glued to the other side of my hip.”

You smacked the back of his milky hair to which he chuckled at.

“Why do you care anyway?” He added.

“He seems nice,” you put plainly. “I don’t know, he seems like he’d be a good friend to have.”

Gojo pouted as the two of you turned a corner, and he pulled you to the other side of him and away from the bustling street. “Am I not enough for you?” He whined, feigned jealousy dripping from his tone.

‘You’re too much actually.”

The two of you made your way back to campus and trudged up to the girl’s dorms, where he kicked your shin and ran off before you could hit him back.

Waltzing into your single dorm, you shut the door with your foot and set down the latte you had purchased on your desk, eyes skimming over the plethora of assignments you had waiting for you. A groan left your lips as you plopped down, deciding to attempt to work through them before your next classes.

៹ next part - stars for you

[choerypetal]

Envy and Passion / Coriolanus Snow

summary : being the daughter of Casca Highbottom had its advantages and challenges. As long as one maintained a private and noble demeanor associated with the family name, there were benefits to enjoy. However, the downside came in the form of her father's deep-seated animosity towards the Snow family. despite this, the Coriolanus Snow devised a plan to reunite her, foreseeing a journey towards greatness, enduring purity, lust and a lasting legacy.

ps ; read part two!!

english isn't my first language, so i excuse for small typo or error mistakes. ps : please don't copy my work or use it without proper credit! thank you

You experienced contentment as a student at the Capitol's Academy, all thanks to your father's insistence that you become involved in his work until graduation. It was during your final year that the announcement for the 10th Hunger Games came unexpectedly early. While you had expected to work alongside Dr. Gaul as a Gamemaker, you found yourself assisting during the reaping ceremony. It was there that you first encountered Snow. 

"No distractions." Your father emphasized, implying a prohibition on interactions with your classmates. Despite the difficulty in ignoring the palpable tension between him and Snow, a part of you harbored a wish that, without the animosity, a friendship could have blossomed. That's what you longed for—a connection you could deem as friendship. To everyone’s surprise, Highbottom's daughter being chosen among the mentors became the talk of the Academy, thrusting you into the limelight against your wishes. Being the center of attention was something you despised the most.

"Miss Highbottom." Dr. Gaul greeted you as you entered the room designated for the impending reaping ceremony. The enthusiasm in her voice hinted at some special arrangements for your role and, perhaps, your involvement in a specific aspect of the Games. However, such expectations shifted when you observed Snow's silhouette standing beside her. A brief exchange between the two suggested an ongoing conversation, making you contemplate to excuse yourself of interrupting further. Despite this, Dr. Gaul, with her customary smile, welcomed your presence and inquired. "Have you met Mr. Snow?"

Did you meet him? Undoubtedly, you had. Given your father's openly declared animosity towards him, it was clear that some past conflict existed between your father and Snow's. Yet, the perplexing part was why such strong feelings were directed at the son, who was merely alive and fulfilling the responsibilities of a dutiful citizen. That remained a mystery to you. "Certainly, I have. My father never stops talking about him. How he 'adores' him." you replied with a touch of irony. In the peculiar logic of your father, adoration seemed to coexist with complete disdain. 

Snow's demeanor appeared uneasy in your presence, yet he quickly regained confidence when he noted your affirmation. Whether you were suggesting this to please Dr. Gaul or for some other reason, he intended to assert his dominance once alone, especially with a member of the Highbottom family. However, instead of confrontation, he simply smiled and acknowledged the subtle comment. "I can't say I'd be eager to hear what Y/N's father thinks of me, let alone my family's name." He remarked. 

"Don't take it personal." You suggested, a smile playing on your features as you attempted to lighten the moment while conversing with Snow. It was intriguing to encounter the Snow your father so vehemently despised, and yet, here he was, appearing composed and not entirely matching the description your father painted. "My father has always had a soft spot for pretty faces." You added with a hint of irony.

In the realm of subjective beauty, Snow found it almost amusing to consider that you held your own private entertainment. Embracing your father's comments, you became a figure easily envied, yet the tension shared between them made it difficult not to be stirred. Fairly speaking, you stood out as one of the most attractive girls in the class, alongside Clemensia; the two of you complemented each other seamlessly. Described as cold as the winter’s snow due to the striking contrast between your fair skin and dark locks inherited from your mothers, you and Clemensia exhibited a captivating allure. Snow entertained the notion that if he delved even further into the profound depths of your eyes, he might lose himself completely—in love, that is. And he hated every bits of it. 

"If I were you, I'd be on my best behavior, sweetheart." He advised, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dr. Gaul was observing. You could almost swear you saw her smile transform into a devious smirk, a subtle admission that she relished the spectacle before her—a spectacle of envy and hatred entangled in a mutual trap. "And what will happen if I don't?" You countered, striving to maintain control just as your father made his entrance, signaling the commencement of the reaping ceremony. His eyes fell upon you and Snow in close proximity, prompting him to be the first to assert authority. "Snow, to your seat now." He commanded. It was evident that Snow's disdain for your father resurfaced as he shot you a final glance before begrudgingly taking his seat.

Fortuitously, you found yourself seated next to him. In all honesty, you had orchestrated this arrangement, intending to be by his side even before your father's disapproving gaze hinted at a switch. However, it was too late by then; the ceremony had commenced, and your father's attention was fully absorbed in the mentors and assigned tributes. This provided you with the perfect opportunity to approach Snow once again. Leaning in, both eyes fixed on the screen to maintain an appearance of focus, you remarked. "You know, if it weren't for my father's animosity towards you, I'd be eager to get to know you."

Snow's piercing blue eyes shifted from the screen to yours. He blinked twice, as if questioning whether he had heard correctly. Highbottom's own daughter appeared to be permitting their adversary to draw a little closer. Or perhaps, in her eyes, he wasn't an enemy at all. He chuckled ever so slightly at the ironic situation. “And if it wasn’t for your father’s constant reminder that my own father was an asshole, I’d say that his own daughter is the most prettiest and fuckable girl I have ever laid my eyes upon.” 

A blush crept beneath your features, a delicate balance of beauty that Snow took pleasure in accentuating. You shared the same acknowledgment as he did, though you maintained a touch more class, unlike him. He tended to be straightforward and always in control, a demeanor he effortlessly displayed as he rendered his fellow classmate completely vulnerable with his words. Leaning in further, his fingers traced along your thigh, causing a tingling sensation at its touch and making your blush more evident. "To be fair, I've always had my eyes on you, you know?" He confessed. "Dr. Gaul wanted to make a proposition earlier and suggested that we work together for the whole semester, even having the lab all to ourselves…" 

“Meaning?” Of course you knew. Having the Lab to yourselves meant that Snow was going to make sure that he had every bits of fantasies piled through him just to have you all too himself. “Meaning, I’ll be able to fuck you endlessly. Maybe a distraction is what I do need after all. Can’t say that especially having the luck to be with Highbottom’s most gorgeous daughter.” 

That wasn't until Snow himself became entranced by your beauty, especially when it was his turn to learn about the tribute he was about to meet. "Coriolanus Snow." Your father's voice echoed with the same undertones of hatred and boredom, his disdain evident at the mention of a name from a generation he feared would worsen Panem. "District 12. Girl." Snow's gaze shifted from the screen to the captivating performance you were putting on. Yet, his current fixation remained on you. Leaning in further, he let his breath linger in the crook of your neck, his lips gently brushing your skin, and you could've sworn you felt a few pecks too. Fortunately, your father remained oblivious, continuing to list the remaining mentors. Suppressing a silent giggle, you pretended that Snow had said something amusing. "And how about..." He continued, placing a few more pecks on your neck. Delicately, you tried not to make your blush too obvious. "After the ceremony, I have to get some paperwork done at the lab. It would be a shame if I didn't have something to keep me focused." 

“Why of course, Mister Snow.” You admitted it so effortlessly, causing Snow's smile to transform into a cunning smirk. It was a smirk filled with desire, and longing. Snow yearned to experience the taste of you and hear you utter his name, just so your father could discover that his own daughter had unknowingly fallen into Snow's snare. From this moment forward, you belonged completely to him.

“Then, I’ll make sure to know who you belong to. Princess.”

[blackmagictrait]

anyway

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[cheapshrimpysheep]

Casino Date

SUMMARY: You made a pact with Mammon and it gave you enough luck at gambling to win any and all games in the casinos. What would that be like? Would an incubus try to seduce you into replacing Mammon with him?

CHARACTERS: Mammon x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; Sexy; GN Reader 

WORD COUNT:  1.900 words 

COMMENTS: There are a lot of interesting things that were introduced in Obey Me that they never explored well or at all. One of them is the “amazing luck” that a human who makes a pact with Mammon has. So I wanted to explore these things a little bit.

'In Lesson 35-6 (NB), Belphegor brought up that Mammon's greed powers grant “amazing luck” to any human that has a pact with him.' Although I'm pretty sure they say this in the original game too, but I can't remember when.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy 💛

After you made the pact with Mammon, he started taking you to casinos with him. He convinced you to play and share the profits since your luck (that makes you win every single game you play) came from the pact with him. Thanks to you, he got a lot of money to the point where he was not only able to pay off all his debts but also buy a lot of things for you.

He loves giving you gifts. So much so that you were wearing a luxurious and expensive dress/suit that matched Mammon's own suit on this day.

But to maintain this you had to go to the casino several times to play and win. The problem is that some other demons started to notice this luck. They looked at you and Mammon, saw you sharing the money with him and thought that maybe if they seduced you, they could be the new recipient of your money and affection.

One of those incubus was watching you, waiting for you to be alone, but Mammon wouldn't let go of you. Like, AT ALL! He would make any excuse to put his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him. Whenever you won (which was always), he would kiss you on the cheek. (He was too embarrassed to kiss you on the lips in public).

He seductively convinces you to always play one game after another.

“Come on (Y/N), just one more.” he said in your ear and with his hand on your waist. “I promise we'll hit that VIP room you like after this one. The Great Mammon will order their best Demonus and we'll celebrate another day of riches.”

That's what you always did. The end of a day of winning big at the casino ended with the two of you in a private VIP room celebrating together.

But one thing you didn't do together was go to the bathroom. And this was the only moment the incubus found to approach you. You were sitting on a comfortable, luxurious sofa with your favorite drink while Mammon went to the bathroom.

The incubus sat down beside you. He wasn't touching you, but he was acting very similar to Mammon, sitting comfortably with his legs spread and taking up a lot of space. He greeted you and started talking to you as if he wanted to know more about you because you seemed like such an interesting person.

He didn't seem to be in a hurry, because he had devised a plan with another succubus for her to distract Mammon until he got your number or something like that.

When Mammon left the bathroom and started making his way back to where you were, the succubus got in front of him and started to flatter and flirt with him. She talked about how he was one of the most powerful demons, how good he looked in that suit, how she had all the magazines he posed for... And at first, Mammon took it as praise from a fan. It was only when she seductively grabbed his arm and tried to convince him to go with her to a more private place that he immediately made her let go of him.

“Yeah... Sorry, but I'm not that kinda demon. ‘Sides, I'm already taken. And speaking of which, I have to go, they're waiting for me.”

He says goodbye politely and returns to his original route when he is stopped again by the succubus.

“Aww, but you are the Great Mammon~ You don't deserve to settle for just one human just because you made a pact with them.”

"And what’s that suppos’ to mean?" he asks, clearly starting to get irritated.

“It means..." she moves closer to him. “that it's not because of a pact that you can't have fun with someone better~” she raised her hand to touch his chest but he stopped her, grabbing her wrist midair.

“Ya don't even know them to know if there’s someone better. But I'll spare ya the search: There is not!” He lets go of her wrist. “And if I hear ya bad mouthin’ them, I'll show ya why I'm the strongest demon here.”

He continues walking towards where he knew you were sitting, leaving the succubus behind, irritated at having been rejected and even threatened. Meanwhile, you had noticed the incubus' advances and stood up to get away from him, but he also stood up and stoped in front of you to block your path.

“I'm telling you, you won't regret investing in me.” He gets too close to you and caresses your face despite your uncomfortable expression. “I can make you feel much better than that failed ang-”

Suddenly a hand grabs his wrist that was caressing your face and turns him around to face an angry Mammon that made the incubus cower in fear as he groaned from the pain he felt in his wrist.

“Than that failed what?! ... Com’on. Say that to my face!”

The incubus was clearly scared, but thinking quickly he decided to defend himself by turning to you and say: “Is this the demon you made a pact with?! He is so aggressive! You must suffer so much being stuck with him.”

Mammon's confidence dissipated, replaced by uncertainty and shocked denial. He loosened his grip on the incubus' wrist, but in that instant you slapped the incubus across the face so hard that it left a mark.

“You know nothing about him!” you say to the incubus now scared of you. “And if you say anything like that about him again you'll find out that I can be much worse!”

Meanwhile, Mammon had already let go of the incubus' wrist, who began to slowly move away from the two of you until he started to run away. You look at Mammon's face, he's blushing a little and he's looking at you in surprise but also... with desire. But then he gets shy and tries to pull himself together.

“I, huh, that was, huh, kinda cool. B-but I had everything under control, ya didn't need to get involved.”

“Really?” You say. “Because you seemed affected by what he said.”

He looked away, embarrassed and still trying to deny that fact. You suggest playing just one more game and then requesting your VIP room. He accepts enthusiastically.

After winning another game, Mammon is the one who asks for a room for the two of you and to have some Demonus. When your VIP room is ready, you see the chaise longues, low lights, and a bottle of Demonus in an ice bucket between two menus with dinner options. As soon as he closes the door and you two are alone, he turns to you with a slightly worried expression and not being able to look you in the eyes.

“You... don't regret making the pact with me... do you?”

You say no and that you were right about what that incubus said affected Mammon.

“Well... maybe... it just made me think, that's all!... I...”

“You are not aggressive towards me.” You assure him. “In fact, of all your brothers, you were always the one who treated me the kindest. Even before you get to know me. And despite the things you said at the time.”

He smiles embarrassedly.

“Yeah... well... about that... I was just...”

“Protecting your loved ones.” you complete. “Just like you did to me today.”

You smile at each other and he finally attacks you with a hug and a kiss on your lips. One of the most loving kisses he could give you, and you can tell by the almost possessive way he holds you.

“I would never hurt you.” he whispers to you after the kiss, his forehead resting against yours.

“I know.” you reassure him. “Now, how about we try that Demonus before the ice melts?”

*

When Mammon drinks, he gets in a much higher spirit than usual.

“Your glass’s already empty?” He refills your glass of with a smile on his face and without asking you if you want more. “Are you tired of this Demonus? We can order another one!”

But the truth is that you were already getting tired, it was very late and that wasn't your first bottle of Demonus. You yawn.

“Aww, you're not tired already, are ya?”

He seemed full of energy and ready to start a party with everyone in the casino, but knowing how drunk Mammon was, you would give him another minute until his energy suddenly dropped to an even lower level than yours.

You had to make him stop before that because you needed to get home and he couldn't drive in that state. And even if he said he could, you would stop him even if you had to use ‘STAY’.

The best way to convince him to do what you want is to seduce him, especially when he’s in that state. You lean against him, running your hands over his chest and face to draw all of his attention to you. You lazily admit that you're tired and want to get out of there so you can both rest together, and you also show your concern because you don't want him to drive drunk.

“Oh, don't worry about it!” he says with a confident smile. “The Great Mammon can sober up in no time!”

You look at him clearly not believing it.

“Fine... maybe it will take a while...” he admits.

But then he seems to have an idea. He looks at you again with that desire in his eyes and holds you by the waist.

“Did ya know that this casino is part of a hotel?... We just need to ask for a room and go up in the elevator.”

He doesn't need you to say anything because your little grin gives you away. For a second he lost his balance as he stood up, but right after he regained it. He takes you with him to find the manager so he can ask for a bedroom for the two of you. No, not just any bedroom. A suite! No, better yet, the best suite there is, even if is the most expensive one! In fact, the best one they could find for the two of you was the most expensive one! The most luxurious one!

And that's exactly what he gets you. You really live like one of the richest couples in Devildom since you started winning every single game thanks to the luck that your pact with Mammon gives you. Your suite didn't just have a king size bed, it had armchairs, a chaise longue and, most obviously, a jacuzzi in the corner of the room.

As soon as you enter and he closes the door, he grabs you and starts kissing your lips until he starts going down to your neck.

“Did I already told ya how hot ya look today?” You could tell he was more relaxed and sincere because of the Demonus. “‘Specially when ya slapped the shit out of that fucker.” His voice changed, becoming more and more desirous.

Even though he likes to appear tough to others, you know he likes it when you are the tough one in the relationship. So you're going to turn him one even more if you gently grab him by the collar and pull him into bed with you.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[leia-writes]

Hi! I read "Kiss With A Fist" and i loved it, i like ur writing sm! Can i request a femreader x Frontman smut? Here's a plot idea: hotel room 1 bed type of situation ( reader is an assistant to the Frontman and they got a love/hate type of relationship ). Ty in advance!

Bittersuite

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link (coming soon when it decides to work)

masterlist

song inspiration: bittersuite by billie eilish

a/n: thank you so much for your request!!

warnings: smut - 18+ ONLY

word count: 9,914

posted on: 2/21/2025

The jet touched down smoothly on the runway, gently interrupting you from your thoughts. Seated next to you by the window was In-ho, who had been quietly sitting with his eyes closed before being awoken. Hwang In-ho, who was the Front Man of the South Korean Squid Games, and who was also your boss.

Your job as In-ho’s assistant mostly consisted of doing all the boring parts of his job. Keeping files organized, documenting important events, and communicating with other Squid Game operations around the world. It also meant you traveled with him wherever he went, which is why you were now landing in Florence, Italy.\

The Squid Game organization was growing at a rapid pace with many new locations being established. Because of In-ho’s expertise and experience, he was asked to visit a few sites as they were being developed. He also liked to visit existing locations from time to time, so this stop in Florence was the first of many. Once the plane finished landing, you and In-ho were led to your private car as your bags were loaded into the trunk for you. The drive to the site would be a couple hours as the location was chosen to be as remote as possible. 

Construction had only recently begun on this new site, so there wasn’t much completed when you two had arrived. The main control room and some conference rooms had been built, but no residences or player rooms were finished. Despite the incomplete nature of the place, your day was filled with meetings. You supported In-ho as he spent the day going over construction blueprints, devising plans for future games, and assisting the staff in learning how to recruit players. As In-ho’s assistant, you felt pulled in every direction as he expected you to be on call and ready with whatever he needed at whatever time he asked. 

By the end of the day, you were both exhausted from travel and work, not even having had time for a meal. Since the Florence site was so early in its development, you had planned to leave that evening for your next site in Oslo, which was more established and almost complete. By the time In-ho finally felt confident enough to leave, you had already missed the private jet’s initially scheduled departure time. You gathered your work bag and files with haste and all but pushed In-ho towards the car as it began to lightly rain.

You settled into the car for another 2-hour drive back to the plane, the soft patter of rain quickly turning into a full-blown thunderstorm. It was so relaxing after your tiring day, you rested your head next to the window and let yourself relax for a bit. In-ho nursed a glass of whiskey and played some soft jazz music. He wouldn’t need you for a while, so you decided to take advantage of the time and try to nap.

It was in moments like these, when In-ho wasn’t barking orders or demanding the world of you, when he seemed calm and content, that you let your mind wander. You’d worked for him for a few years now. When you started, you spent months convinced you’d be fired at any given moment. It wasn’t the game or the organization that intimidated you - you had connections of your own that landed you a job in a place like this - it was In-ho. 

From the moment you met him, you had this incessant need to please him. You’d always taken pride in your jobs, always wanted to do your best, but with In-ho, you craved his approval over everything. Not only did you want to be good at your job, but you wanted him to simply like you. Knowing he relied on you and needed you made you feel important. Whether he complimented your work or yelled at you over something stupid, you craved his attention.

Maybe that’s why you had lasted so long in this job. Even when he got upset with you, even when he let his anger and frustrations out on you, you never gave up. And when you did well, god, did you love his praise. 

Fuck, you were getting worked up just thinking about it, sitting next to him. You’d always felt attracted to him, but knew he would never, ever cross that line. No matter how much you wanted it, or how much you suspected that he wanted it too, it felt impossible. All you could do was live in the made-up world inside your head where he touched you whenever you wanted.

You were quickly taken from your thoughts with the feeling of a hand wrapping around yours. Looking to your side, you saw In-ho, his hand holding yours, his gaze on you like a hunter looking at its prey. You felt exposed, like he could read your thoughts. A blush was surely forming across your face.

“You did well today,” he said, his tone hoarse and low. Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded, convinced if you spoke he’d be able to tell the dirty thoughts crossing your mind.

He squeezed your hand, his eyes lowering, searching every curve of your body before landing back on your eyes. “I think you deserve a reward for that… don’t you?”

Your breath hitched, you were too shocked to know what to say. Your mouth almost hung open in disbelief, seeing him talk to you like this.

He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. His breath gently grazed your face as he studied your features, only inches from your mouth.

“Do you want me to touch you, darling?”

An involuntary, quiet moan left your lips. A rush of warmth spread throughout your body, settling into your core. 

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice breathy with lust. “Please… yes.”

He slowly leaned in closer and kissed you, his free hand moving to the hem of your skirt. In-ho softly rubbed your thigh. Your mind was swirling - was he really, finally touching you now, after all this time? After all the longing you’d felt for him, for his touch, for his love and affection, why act on it now?

A sharp, hot wave of pleasure wracked your body as you felt In-ho’s hand move up your skirt, caressing your inner thigh. He kissed you more fervently now, his other hand leaving yours and reaching into your hair to press your lips harder on his. He was practically hovering over you at this point. His hands deftly moved beneath your underwear and his fingers slowly made their way to your wet, aching folds.

You cried out when he began to circle your clit with his fingers, seeming to know exactly the way you liked it. He pulled away to observe your flushed state and you felt vulnerable under his gaze, whimpering at his touch as he worked his fingers on you at a steady pace. You gripped his arms for dear life, as if you could fall out of his grasp at any moment.

He sighed softly above you. “That’s it, darling, let yourself go.”

You groaned, opening your legs further. “Please… more.”

He leaned next to your ear and whispered, “What was that?”“More.”“More what?”

You grabbed his wrist, his fingers stilling, and slowly pushed his hand down further to your entrance. He groaned darkly and his fingers began slowly teasing your entrance. Your hips involuntarily bucked forward, your aching core begging to be filled.

You gripped his wrist tighter, pushing his hand further down as hard as you could, but no matter how hard you tried he was able to resist and keep teasing you. Despite the lack of stimulation, you felt close to your release, making you even more desperate to feel his fingers. 

If he could just get a little further, you were almost there… just a little longer…

Your eyes shot open. 

Someone was shaking your shoulder violently, practically yelling at you. Yelling your name.

You turned to find In-ho, a flustered annoyance apparent on his face. 

“Where are the fucking passports?”

What? Oh. Fuck.

Your mind was reeling in the aftermath of your dream. Reality felt like a betrayal after what you’d just felt. The man you’d just seen stick his hand down your underwear was now angrily yelling at you.

You sat up straight and pulled yourself together. Your bag was on In-ho’s lap, clearly rifled through in his frenzy. 

“They’re not in the bag?”

“No. Or the suitcases. What did you do with them?”

“I-I don’t know, I had them when we arrived.” You began to look around in panic. He’d already searched everything in the car, the only other place you’d been was the new site. 

“I must have left them in a conference room. Did you ask if-” “I’m not asking anyone anything, you call them right now.”

You silently scurried to grab your phone and call the staff at the new site. After several rings, you were able to get in touch with a lower level employee who luckily was still there. They quickly checked the rooms and confirmed you’d left the passports and a few other documents there. Clearly in your haste you hadn’t realized what you’d left. After getting off the phone, you realized the car was parked on the side of the road.

In-ho looked expectantly at you. You sighed, lowering your gaze. “I left them at the new site. I’m sorry. We need to go back.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and pressed the car intercom, directing the driver to turn back. 

“We’ll have to postpone again,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh, looking out the window.

You shrunk into your seat, wanting to be as small and inconspicuous as possible. Anything to avoid his wrath.

After a few silent moments, In-ho glanced at you again. His gaze seemed to linger on the edge of your skirt. “Arrange a hotel. I doubt we’ll be able to leave in this rain.”

You quickly got to work on your phone, searching for the best hotels with availability. Unfortunately, with it being a busy tourist season, nearly everything was booked. In-ho watched, clearly aggravated, as you tried and failed multiple times to find even one room. 

After what seemed like your hundredth attempt, you finally found something. A nice, luxury hotel, and they even had a suite available to accommodate the two of you. You quickly booked it, and In-ho seemed temporarily satisfied. 

With a sigh of slight relief, you settled back into your seat, keeping yourself from falling asleep again. After retrieving the passports, the pilot at the jet confirmed In-ho’s suspicions that you wouldn’t be able to leave that night. The car drove you both back to the city to your hotel and you set out to find dinner.

~~~

“Call a car for the hotel,” In-ho instructed, taking the last few sips of his drink. You sat across from him at the restaurant, finishing your own glass of wine. After the embarrassing events of the day, you had more than your fair share of wine at dinner. With the way In-ho was looking at you, something that felt like a quiet contempt, you couldn’t help but keep yourself busy sipping your drink.

“The hotel is just down this street, if you’d prefer to walk. Quicker than waiting for a car,” you responded. He silently nodded and finished his drink before standing up and leaving, not even bothering to wait for you. In a hurry, you gathered your things and followed him.

The rain was steadily pouring still as you opened your umbrella, watching In-ho walk ahead with his. You pulled your bag and coat close to you as you tried catching up. In the next moment, you felt someone crash into your side, sending you to the ground.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry.”

Your entire left side got soaked as your umbrella crashed to the ground next to you, though you managed to keep your bag close to your chest. A man appeared in front of you, crouching down next to you.

“Are… uh, are you, alright?” he slurred, alcohol apparent on his breath even from a few feet in front of you. Looking around, you noticed a bar in front of you, presumably where this man had just exited and ran into you. He seemed concerned but couldn’t help himself from giggling.

Scoffing, you quickly stood up, making sure nothing in your bag had gotten wet. The man grabbed your umbrella, still on the ground, and handed it to you. As you grasped the handle, the man wrapped his hand around yours. A cold shiver went down your spine, and not just because of the rain.

“Hey, I asked you… you ok?”

“I’m fine.” You tried pulling your hand from his but he just held you tighter.

“God, you’re pretty, why don’t you come wi-” “Would you let go of me?” you demanded.

He looked offended, then angry. Still grasping your hand, his other reached for your waist. You were about to punch him in the face before feeling him get pulled away from you.

In-ho appeared before you, pulling the man from behind by his collar with just one hand, the other still holding his umbrella. The man quickly lost his balance and fell to the ground, finally releasing you. In-ho towered over him as you backed away.

“Get your filthy hands off of her. And get the fuck out of here.”

Before the man could respond, In-ho stood up and roughly kicked him in the side. The man curled into a ball and groaned. As you watched in shock, In-ho forcefully grabbed your arm and led you back towards the hotel. He was silent, his jaw tensed.

After checking in and getting your room keys, you entered the elevator and composed yourself a bit. “Thank you.”

In-ho gave you a brief look, but simply nodded and stayed silent. The awkwardness between you was palpable - seeing him defend you like that gave you so many mixed emotions after screwing up earlier.

You reached your room door and scanned the key to reveal your suite. It was just like the receptionist described - a beautiful, luxury suite, with a large bathroom, balcony, a seating area with two large armchairs, and a kitchenette with a fully stocked bar. Perfect for two.

There was just one problem. There was only one bed.

In-ho sighed deeply and slowly walked throughout the room as you stayed frozen in fear near the front door. Not only did you fuck up the entire evening’s travel plans, you messed up the one simple job of finding a suitable room for the night. He started walking back towards the door, where your bags were, and you were sure you were about to be reprimanded beyond belief.

In-ho grabbed your bag and dropped it in front of you. “You’re soaking wet. Get yourself cleaned up.”

He walked away quietly. The wine from before seemed to catch up to you now, and you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. “I’m so sorry, when I booked it I thought she mentioned two beds, she said it was perfect for two people so I just assumed she meant-”

“Stop.” His voice resounded throughout the room, quieting you immediately. He sighed and looked at you. “It’s too late to fix it now. So do as I told you and get yourself together.”

You scurried into the bathroom with your bag, wanting nothing more than to be out of his sight.

~~~

After taking a shower and getting ready to sleep, you exited the bathroom quietly and saw In-ho sitting on the balcony with a cigarette and a glass of whiskey. The door was barely open, but you could smell the scent of rain and cigarette smoke from outside. You had no clue what he was thinking, and what he planned to do about the bed situation. All things considered, you felt obligated to assume he would take the bed. 

You pushed your suitcase into a corner and grabbed an extra set of blankets in the linen closet. Upon hearing you, In-ho turned to observe you. You felt his eyes on you but avoided his gaze, pulling your sweater closer to you. You’d put on a simple nightdress that felt a little too revealing without the sweater. After grabbing the blankets, you poured yourself a small glass of wine and sat in the armchair, opening a book you were currently reading.

The two of you stayed in your separate spots in silence for a while. A part of you felt more comfortable as time went on, but apprehension still laced your thoughts. In-ho put out his cigarette and walked inside, eyeing you, surrounded in a blanket, with curiosity.

“You’re not sleeping there tonight.”

You set your book down. “I’m fine. You can take the bed. It’s my fault we’re here anyways.”

He scoffed. “You’ve worked for me for how long? And you still don’t know how to listen.”

Taken aback by his words, and the alcohol giving you a little extra courage, you retorted. “Sorry I don’t want you to sleep on the floor? These chairs are way too small for you.”

He chuckled at that, and something curious tugged at your heart. He might’ve been a bit tipsy himself. “Just get in the bed. It’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to sleep on the-”

He groaned out of frustration. “I know. I get it. Just get in the fucking bed.” He walked to the kitchen to set down his glass.

You scoffed. “What, right now?”

He gave you a warning look - you weren’t going to push him any further. You slowly got up and sat in the bed as he gathered his things and went to the bathroom. You settled under the blankets, your body immediately responding to the relieving comfort of the bed. Well, if he insisted…

After a while, you heard In-ho come out of the bathroom. You were laying on your side, still reading, but turned when you heard him sit in the chair. He had a book of his own he was reading with his glasses on. A rare sight.

“Seriously, you don’t have to sleep there.”

He looked at you above his glasses. “I’m not.”

You stayed silent, but he continued looking at you. Daring you to defy him again. He was dressed more casually now, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, though he still looked expensive. And those glasses triggered an excited flurry of emotions in your chest every time you saw them. 

You sighed, defeated. “Fine,” you yawned. “Goodnight then.”

He laughed softly as you turned around, settling under the comforter.

“Goodnight, darling.”

He said it so casually, as if it were a second thought, as if calling you darling didn’t set off every nerve ending in your body. Your chest tightened as you tried to bring your heart down to earth. It was all too much, everything that had happened that day. You just wanted some rest.

~~~

The first thing you noticed upon waking up was the unbearable heat surrounding you. Laying in the bed with your eyes closed, you realized your sweater was making you entirely too hot under the comforter. You opened your eyes, complete darkness surrounding you except for the clock on each nightstand. It seemed that In-ho had lowered the light-blocking blinds. The clock read 4am.

You realized you were facing the other way from when you had fallen asleep, and held on to a pillow as you slept. The pillow was particularly warm, almost more than you were under your sweater. You moved your arm, getting your bearings, before realizing you weren’t holding a pillow.

It was In-ho.

Upon your discovery, you instantly froze. A million realizations seemed to hit you at once. In-ho hadn’t slept on the chair, or the floor, he slept next to you. And not only did you find yourself cuddling him in your sleep, you felt his arm wrapped around you too. On top of all of that, you were on the verge of sweating through your clothes if you stayed next to his furnace of a body.

You had to get up, now. Slowly, you pulled your arm off of him and sat up, gently moving his arm off of your back. You made slow, deliberate movements to sit on the edge of the bed without disturbing him, and pulled off your sweater. The cool air was a relief on your hot skin. 

Taking a deep breath, you calmed yourself from the emotional thunderstorm in your mind. A glass of water sat on your nightstand, which hadn’t been there before. In-ho must have set it there for you. You tried to ignore the implications of it and took a few sips.

It was nice sitting in the dark silence, after the chaotic day you had. You wanted to sit in it for a bit longer, but you felt In-ho stir next to you.

“Are you ok?” His voice pierced the silence.

You sighed. “Mhm. Sorry.”

You felt his arm reach out towards you, searching the bed for you, until his fingers gently rested on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you doing?”

You sighed. What was with the interrogation? “Just drinking water.”

He hummed, and pulled his arm back. You found yourself craving his warm touch again. The thought of it made you exhale in frustration.

“What?” he asked again.

After a few moments of contemplation, you responded, “Sometimes you expect the world from me, and other times you treat me like I’m fragile.”

He sighed, but didn’t respond. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say such a thing. Maybe the vulnerability you felt sitting with him in a dark room, alone.

Once you felt cool enough to return to the blankets, you slowly lowered yourself down to your pillow, unsure if In-ho had gone back to sleep. Upon feeling you shift in the bed, his hand quickly grasped your arm. The abruptness surprised you.

“You dreamt about me earlier, didn’t you?”

His words felt like a knife through your body. The fact that he even knew you dreamed, let alone might know what the content of that dream was, made you want to crawl in a hole and never come out. Your mind frantically raced. What exactly did he hear from you? How could you be so stupid to lust after him so much that you’d embarrass yourself like this?

In-ho felt your muscles tense under his touch. “I think you did.”

You stayed still and silent, begging for the moment to be over.

He turned on his side towards you, pulling your arm towards him. “Tell me.”

You could feel that he was almost hovering over you, imagining what his face might look like. As his grip tightened you felt even more embarrassed and couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

He sighed, and you felt his breath on your face. Just like in your dream. His voice softened.

“Tell me it was me, darling.”

You could sense a layer of something new in his voice, something almost pleading. You reached your hand to cover his, squeezing.

“Yes.”

He sighed, and you could feel the ends of his hair on your shoulder as he leaned his head down. “I thought so.” You felt his hand move to your neck, gently resting on your cheek and jaw. “Tell me what happened.”

An involuntary whimper left your mouth, out of embarrassment or lust you couldn’t tell. But you knew you couldn’t say.

His hot breath grazed your shoulder again. “I heard those little sounds you were making. Saw the way you squeezed your thighs together,” he huffed. “It was a good dream, wasn’t it?”

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Your mind nearly went blank. It was simultaneously the worst thing and best thing that could happen to you.

“Hm?”

You nodded, feeling his hand caress your cheek.

He hummed softly. “I could tell how much you liked it. Could hear you asking for more.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment and cursed your body for betraying you so badly.

He chuckled. “Why don’t you show me what happened in your dream? Since you were so rudely interrupted.” His hand trailed from your jaw to your waist, his fingers gliding smoothly along your skin and nightdress, gently feeling whatever he could get his hands on.

You let out a breathy moan and moved your hand to his on your waist, grabbing roughly, unsure of what to do. In-ho moved his head from your shoulder to your face, gently kissing your cheek.

“Show me.”

In the next instant, he captured your lips with his, kissing you with a gentle fervor. His kiss seemed to bring your mind back to reality, and you responded with equal intensity. It felt as if your entire body was responding to him now, with your back arching ever so slightly to chase his warmth.

You gripped his hand roughly again and pushed it further down towards your thighs, your legs opening for him. He groaned above you, pushing your dress up your legs. His hand gently caressed the outside of your underwear, and he pulled his mouth from yours.

“Is this what happened? You want me to touch you here?”

His words, unknowing to him, almost exactly echoed your dream. You whimpered pitifully beneath him, whispering, “Yes, please, yes.”

His fingers quickly dipped into your underwear as he continued kissing you feverishly, groaning at feeling how wet you were. He wasted no time in massaging your clit, relishing in the stifled moans and desperate twitching of your hips.

Your mind was absolutely reeling at the whiplash of the last few minutes, but you just couldn’t deny it anymore. Even if it made you look pathetic, you needed him badly. Like your dream before, you pushed his hand down further. This time, he didn’t tease you.

Two fingers entered you, and he quickly began pumping them in and out. The sudden feeling of being somewhat filled by him sent white hot pleasure from your core. You clenched around him, feeling yourself get even wetter for him. He bent his head down to your neck, urgently kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin.

You felt In-ho curl his fingers a bit inside you, pressing on the delicate, tender flesh that made your body writhe beneath him. If he continued much longer you were going to come undone.

“I’m… you’re gonna make me…” you whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He quickly pulled his fingers from you. “Not yet, darling,” he huffed, his voice ragged with lust.

You felt him shift back on his knees, pulling the blanket from you both. His hands found the edge of your underwear and swiftly pulled them off of you. You heard him pull his shirt off and shift to take his pants off, immediately reaching forward to feel his bare skin.

As he shifted above you and settled between your legs, he caressed your face again, gently holding on to your jaw. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, fucking yes,” you pleaded.

He huffed loudly as you felt him line his cock with your entrance, slowly rubbing around your slick folds. He wanted to tease you more, point out how fucking demanding and needy you were being to your boss, but he couldn’t stand to wait any longer. He slowly thrust himself into your aching core, your body stretching deliciously to his thick cock. 

You both groaned loudly together, completely overwhelmed. He quickened his pace, fucking you with intensity as you cried out in pleasure. You never imagined it could feel this good, feel better than your actual dreams.

He roughly grabbed your hair. “Is this what you wanted?”

His words made you clench on him, almost making him stutter in his pace. You couldn’t even form words.

“You wanted to get fucked by your superior, huh? Wanted me to fuck you in that car, I bet.”

You whimpered loudly beneath him, bringing his mouth to yours, meeting his thrusts with your hips. Everything was sending your body closer to the edge.

“I can feel you. You love this. Don’t worry… you,” he huffed, “you don’t need to say anything.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. It was all becoming so overwhelming. You wanted to tell him how good he made you feel, how close you were to coming undone, but you could barely stutter in between your blubbering cries.

“That’s it. Go ahead. Cum for me, darling.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you came with an intensity that wracked your entire body, becoming an absolute mess beneath him. Your walls clenched his throbbing cock tightly, practically begging him to cum with you. As your body spasmed, you held on to his shoulders for support. You felt his movements stutter as he spilled his cum into you with a low, guttural groan, prolonging your pleasure even longer with him. He thrust into you with great force a few times before completely stilling and letting his cock soften inside you. 

Your arms stayed firmly wrapped around him, your body and mind wanting to stay in that moment forever. He sighed above you, his hand caressing your face, kissing you all over your face, lips, and neck. You almost giggled at the ticklish feeling.

After several moments, In-ho laid next to you, wrapping his arm around you to lay on his chest. Just like you were before waking up. Despite feeling like a sweaty, wet mess, you both gave in to exhaustion quickly and fell back asleep.

~~~

The next morning you awoke to an empty bed. It took you a few seconds to remember all that had happened during the night, but the memories overwhelmed your mind. Wondering where In-ho was, you quickly searched the room to find his bags gone. After checking your phone, you noticed a text from him.

“I’m downstairs. Get ready and let’s go.”

Shit. He texted you almost an hour ago. You rushed through your morning routine as fast as you could and gathered your bags, making your way to the lobby. In-ho sat alone, reading through some files for the next site.

A tinge of hesitation clouded your thoughts. You weren’t sure how to act moving forward - were you a couple? Was it even allowed? How did he feel about all of this?

As you approached In-ho, he glanced at you and quickly got up, gathering his things. He seemed to be in a hurry.

“Let’s go. We’re late.”

You scurried behind him. “You didn’t give me a time.”

The car was waiting outside the hotel. The driver loaded your bags and you and In-ho sat next to each other. He promptly pulled out the documents he was looking at before, completely ignoring your statement from before. Completely ignoring you, actually.

So maybe you weren’t wrong for feeling hesitant earlier. He clearly had a lot on his mind and that didn’t consist of you. Whatever complicated feelings that blossomed at the thought of that, you kept fully suppressed, focusing solely on work. If that’s how he wanted things, that’s what you would do.

The two of you made it to the plane with no issues and landed in Oslo that afternoon. Luckily this site was almost complete, so the private runway was available. You got straight to work in helping In-ho assist with the final touches to the place.

The entire day held an air of tension between you and In-ho. There was that whiplash again - you’d just had a passionate night with him and now he was acting more coldly towards you than usual, like he would when you just started out. It frustrated you so much. Just because you both had crossed a line that you could never come back from, that didn’t mean you weren’t good at your job anymore. 

At the end of the day, you were relieved to finally get a break, from In-ho and everything else. Since your hotel had been properly booked in advance, you had a multi-room suite with In-ho, both of you having your own separate rooms this time. You had a shared living area, kitchen, and bathroom, but of course In-ho kept to himself. Upon arriving and dropping off your bags, In-ho left without a word, just a quick text: “I’m getting dinner. Don’t wait up.”

You rolled your eyes at the text, opening up the room service menu. Not sure what I’d be waiting for, you thought. You didn’t feel like venturing out today, just relaxing by yourself. After eating dinner alone, you settled into your bed and started reading before seeing a phone call from your best friend.

It wasn’t often you actually had time to talk to family or friends, so you took the call and started catching up. No one could actually know the details of your job, but it was still nice being able to chat. And with all the traveling you were doing lately, you missed the comforts of home.

As you chatted on the phone, In-ho came back from dinner. He had intentionally left in a haste when you two had gotten in the room, not wanting to confront you about anything that had happened the night before. But with one too many glasses of whiskey from dinner, his made up principles were quickly going out the window. As he poured himself another gratuitous glass in the kitchen, he heard soft laughter from your room. 

He approached your slightly open door, listening to you. 

“I know, I miss you too.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Let’s definitely do that when I get back!”

A hot wave of jealousy afflicted his mind. Who could you be talking to? Who could you be missing, or wanting to spend time with? He was convinced it had to be a man, someone he was now in competition with for your attention. He tried his best to keep his simmering jealousy to himself as he walked back to the kitchen for his glass. You heard his footsteps then, lowering your voice to your friend.

“I’ve gotta go now. We’ll talk soon. Goodnight!”

After ending the call, you settled back into your bed, listening for what In-ho might do next. You heard him walk from the kitchen to the living area, ice clinking in his glass. Still ignoring you. Deciding it was time to get ready for bed, and giving yourself an excuse to walk through the living area, you made your way to the bathroom. 

In-ho briefly glanced at you but stayed silent. You rolled your eyes after passing him. After washing up and putting on another nightdress, you walked back to your room. The nightdress made you feel a bit exposed, but after last night you didn’t feel a need to hide yourself. Even if everything had happened in complete darkness.

In-ho kept his eyes trained on you as you walked past, getting a glimpse of what he touched the night before but never saw. You ignored him and climbed back in your bed, opening your book to continue reading. After a few minutes, you heard In-ho approach your door, knocking on it lightly.

“Hm?” He gave you a look of pure contempt. “Who was that before?”

“What?” “On the phone. Who were you talking to?”

You scoffed. “Why do you need to know?”

It was quite obvious he was jealous, but he had no clue what he was talking about. And he had no right to be jealous when he acted so coldly towards you all day. You ignored him and went back to your book.

That annoyed him even further. “You know, this isn’t a vacation.”

You gave him an incredulous look, putting down your book and standing up to close your door. “Stop treating me like I’m bad at my job. I was just talking to a friend,” you retorted. “If there’s nothing else work-related that you need from me, then goodnight.”

He stared you down, like he was trying to intimidate you, but you saw through his facade. Clearly he was struggling with his feelings towards you, but that was on him to figure out. Casting you aside wasn’t the way to do it. You stared at him for a few moments before you noticed his features slightly soften.

He looked down, sighing in what seemed like defeat. “I’m sorry, but… you know we can’t do this.”

Your eyes narrowed, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Finally showing some honesty. “You’ve made that clear.”

He stayed silent, his expression shifting into something more like longing.

Rolling your eyes, you prodded him further. “Why?”

“It’s a weakness they could use against us.”

“It’s not like they know.” “They could find out. They would eventually.”

You searched his eyes for something, as if you were looking for an answer to a question you hadn’t thought of yet. Why was he being so cautious, so seemingly overdramatic about this? You just can’t go back from what happened between you two. 

You didn’t want to. And if he was going to put you through all of this hell, you were going to give it right back to him.

You sighed deeply, resting an arm on your hip and the other on the door. The neckline of your nightdress left only a little to the imagination. You watched as In-ho traced the curve of your chest and shoulders with his eyes.

“Well, that’s too bad then,” you declared, like you were daring him to make a move. After a few tense, silent moments, you turned to go back to your bed. In-ho quickly grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Well, if they don’t know… then…”

You pouted. “They’ll find out eventually, won’t they?”

He rolled his eyes and gripped you tighter, prompting you to push him away. Instead, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the wall. His head rested near yours, his breath hot on your ear. Though his sudden movement was shocking, your body immediately welcomed the warmth of his.

He seemed so forward and hesitant at the same time, his hands holding you tightly but seemingly keeping himself from going any further. You craved his touch, his kiss, but his close proximity yet lack of action made you frustrated. Your hands slowly made their way to his shoulders, rubbing softly, bringing your body closer to his.

He quickly grabbed your waist and pressed himself against you, his erection wholly apparent. Your mind immediately went to the night before and you moaned without thinking, setting In-ho off even further. He gripped the back of your head, pulling at your hair, and pushed your head into his shoulder, his lips ghosting over your neck. He grinded himself into you as you grasped at his arms and shoulders, begging for more from him.

All you wanted was more of him. And here he was, so pliable in your hands, likely willing to do whatever you wanted if you asked him nicely enough. Despite his concerns from before, which he seemed to not care about at all anymore. 

Was that his plan this whole time? Did he come up with some excuse to keep you emotionally far away but physically close? Could you even handle a solely physical relationship, and not only that but with your superior?

Your heart dropped and you pushed In-ho off of you. He looked at you confused, his face flushed intensely from alcohol and touching you. 

You looked down. “You can’t… you can’t just use me for sex then…”

He seemed even more confused now, in a stunned silence.

“I know you’re my boss and everything but-”

“That’s not… I’m not-”

“You don’t get to play around with me whenever you want, like a toy.” You looked him in the eye then, the hurt apparent on your face. His expression dropped, realizing the consequence of his foolishness. He nodded slowly and walked out, leaving you alone with a storm of emotions to deal with.

You quickly shut your door completely and got in bed, wanting to forget about everything that happened the past couple days. 

Hopefully you wouldn’t dream of him, as you often did.

~~~

The next day was pure torture. Not only were you exhausted from barely sleeping, but the weight of the conflict between you and In-ho felt physically burdensome on your body. Your mind was constantly being pulled in every direction - if you weren’t busying your mind with mindless work tasks, you were constantly subjected to a barrage of thoughts about him. How you felt so connected to him before, how he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, how he wanted you just as you wanted him.

How he tried to use you.

Should you even continue working for him? The thought crossed your mind a few times throughout the day. You definitely couldn’t continue like this. But you also couldn’t see yourself doing anything else, you didn’t want to. You took pride in your work and contributions. And a small part of you deep down still craved In-ho’s approval, though it bothered you to admit it to yourself.

After your busy day, you ventured from the remote location with In-ho and the Host of your Squid Game site. He had traveled to join you two in assisting the new location. The three of you arrived at your dinner reservation and settled in, finally relaxing.

After getting drinks and waiting for your food, it was clear to the Host that there was friction between you and In-ho. Your responses to each other, in the rare moments you spoke directly to each other, were sharp and short. The Host had been suspecting something was off all day, but it was apparent now at dinner.

He eyed both of you curiously. “Today couldn’t have been that bad. What’s with the miserable faces?”

Your face flushed in subtle embarrassment, worrying you came off as unprofessional. In-ho’s stoic expression seemed to freeze in time, giving no response. The awkwardness was almost unbearable.

The Host chuckled to himself. “What, is it a lover’s quarrel?”

In-ho’s eyes darted to the Host in shock, and your face flushed even more red. Oh god, how obvious was it? You hadn’t so much as kissed before two days ago and now the Host was teasing you about your relationship?

In-ho cleared his throat. “We aren’t lovers.”

The Host looked at him in slight disbelief. “Oh, it was that bad?”

You and In-ho simultaneously gave confused looks. The Host looked at you two back and forth incredulously. “Wait. You’re not…?”

“Not what?” In-ho asked.

“You weren’t a couple?”

Your heart seemed to beat a million beats at once as In-ho tensed up completely next to you. 

The Host laughed again, shaking his head. “I could’ve… We could’ve sworn that you two were together. I mean, you do everything together.”

In-ho’s jaw tensed visibly as he sipped his drink. All you wanted was to disappear. 

“I just thought, with the way you two act with each other… I mean, we thought it was obvious. Even brazen at times.”

Your eyes widened and you looked down in embarrassment, In-ho clearing his throat again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were giving that impression.”

“Don’t apologize, there’s nothing wrong with it. You can do what you want as long as your work is good.” He smiled, clearly relishing in how you and In-ho were squirming at his words. 

You could tell the Host was trying to lighten the mood, all but giving you and In-ho permission to be together. But instead of feeling excited, your heart dropped. If the Host was acting so casually about your relationship, why did In-ho think you two couldn’t be together? It made his flimsy excuse the night before seem even more like a lie. Obviously your suspicions were right about him. You wanted to be mad but all you could feel in that moment was a sad loneliness.

The mood seemed to shift more positively with In-ho and the Host, but you couldn’t put on a facade anymore. It was apparent the rest of the night that you were upset, but you stayed quiet. The Host gave you a few pitying looks, like he knew he just twisted the knife in the wound in your heart.

~~~

Once you arrived back in the suite, you immediately went to your room and shut the door, letting out a giant breath. It felt like the weight of the day was finally off your shoulders. You could’ve sworn you heard In-ho say something to you, but you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him anymore. 

You changed and climbed into bed, attempting to calm and distract yourself with your phone. It worked for probably five minutes before your mind inevitably drifted to In-ho, your memories attempting to paint a picture of who he is to you but coming up short. As if he was reading your mind, a text notification from him appeared on your phone.

“We need to talk.”

You sighed, ignoring the text and continuing to scroll. 

“I know you’re on your phone.”

Ugh. Rolling your eyes, you attempted to come up with a response. What could you even say? You didn’t want to confront him right now but it was also painful to sit with so much unsaid.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

Fuck. Let’s just get this over with.

You put on your sweater over your nightdress and stepped outside. In-ho was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, glass of whiskey in hand. He was dressed casually like before, glasses and everything. If that wasn’t enough to make you waver, the way he eyed you as you passed him and poured yourself a glass of wine made you even more weak.

He sighed. “I can tell you’re upset.”

“You’re very observant,” you stated, sipping from your glass.

“It wasn’t my intention to make you feel used.”

“Well, that’s kind of what happens when you try to use someone.”

His jaw clenched before he responded. “I wasn’t trying to use you.”

You scoffed. “What exactly does it mean when you want me one day and you don’t want me the next, then change your mind in your next breath?” 

He stayed silent as you continued. “Is that not using me?” You were beginning to get heated. “Who am I supposed to believe, the In-ho that wants me or the In-ho that doesn’t?”

He exhaled loudly. “I was just-”

“You know I do a lot for you, but I can’t do that. It’s not fair.” Your anger was quickly turning to tears that you desperately tried to keep in.

In-ho’s face dropped. He stepped towards you but you turned aside, away from him. You were angry and sad and embarrassed to be like this in front of him.

“Actually, it’s okay. It’s obvious you needed an excuse to keep a distance from me, you don’t have to explain yourself. Just stop changing your mind and confusing me.” Your head hung low as In-ho seemed to hover near you.

His heart broke. He gently held your shoulders, turning you towards him slowly.

“That’s not true.”

Tears silently flowed down your face as you listened.

“I didn’t know he would say that today. I didn’t know that it didn’t matter. I was just…” he sighed. “I was worried it would look bad and then you’d have to leave.”

You sniffled softly, wiping your face, still unable to bear looking up at him.

“I never wanted to keep a distance from you. You have no idea…” He gently caressed your face, wiping away some tears. “I need you to stay. I need you.”

Through teary eyes, you slowly looked up at him, as if you were trying to determine if he was really telling the truth.

He continued. “I thought I was doing the right thing pushing you away, but then I couldn’t stop myself. And now I’ve made you cry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled you close to him, his hand gently caressing the back of your head.

The smell of his cologne and clean clothes flooded your senses. With each word In-ho confessed, you felt your defenses weakening, your body unconsciously melting into his. But a part of you was still so scared this would be fleeting.

“Tell me this is real,” you said softly.

He sighed and held you tighter. “This is real, darling. Ever since I met you…” 

He continued as you felt your heart bursting at the seams. “I can’t live without you. Please stay. With me. I don’t care what happens, I don’t care if we have to run away. Just be with me.”

With his final words, you felt an immense weight release itself from your heart. You wrapped your arms around In-ho, nodding into his chest, too overwhelmed to speak. Tears fell once again, but this time out of relief.

He gently held your chin and tilted your head towards him, studying your face before softly kissing you. You immediately softened at the touch of his lips, responding with the same gentleness. He pulled away to wipe the rest of your tears away before leaning in for a deeper, more passionate kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as the kiss became more intense, feeling his arms move to your sides to pull your body closer to his. It was as if he had never touched you before, as if the other night was only a dream and this was real, this was the only thing that mattered anymore.

Your hands found their way into his hair, gently tugging, eliciting a quiet groan from his throat. He roughly grabbed your hips and lifted you on the counter, slotting himself between your legs as they naturally opened up to him. His hand pressed on your lower back, pushing you closer to him. 

The kiss was becoming more sloppy and heated as you both became more desperate for each other. His hands moved to your sides and pushed your sweater up and off of you, the revealing neckline of your nightdress now in view. Your back arched towards him, craving his warm touch. He broke from the kiss to look at you, his hands gently massaging your breasts. You could feel the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent, prompting you to grind on him before pulling him into a kiss again. 

Kissing him felt like breathing, like swimming to the surface of a deep, raging ocean and finally taking in a breath you’d been holding for far too long. Finally arriving to where you were meant to be.

He picked you up from the counter effortlessly, carrying you to his room as you giggled and laying you on his bed. His lips found yours again, like a lifeline. Your hands wrapped around the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. As you broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see In-ho, illuminated by the warm light of the lamp in his room. You eyed his body, from his head to his waist, relishing in the new parts of him you could finally see.

He hovered over you, studying your face as you watched him. You seemed to be in a trance, only breaking your thoughts when you noticed him smirking at you. A blush spread across your face as he laughed before leaning down to kiss you. Your embarrassment faded quickly as he trailed his kisses down to your chest, slowly lowering himself to your hips.

He pushed your nightdress up, exposing your underwear. A soft hum left his throat as he spread his hands across your thighs, pushing your legs apart. His eyes ravaged your body, his hands caressing your warm skin.

He leaned in and pressed his face to your clothed core. “Can’t believe we left the lights off,” he huffed as he kissed around your inner thighs. You squirmed delightfully under his touch, your body aching for any sensation he could give.

He quickly pulled your underwear off and pressed his open mouth to your soaking wet core. You nearly yelped at the sudden feeling of his warm tongue tasting you, eagerly swirling around every sensitive nerve he touched. Your hips involuntarily twitched and arched upwards, pressing into him. He groaned loudly and sucked on your clit, increasing the speed of his tongue. The combination of sensations sent a delicious wave of pleasure through your body.

You grabbed his hair and pressed him further on you, chasing the intense pleasure he was giving you. His hand settled under his chin and his fingers began teasing your entrance. You gasped out loud, looking down. The sight of it almost sent you over the edge, beyond anything you’d ever felt before. 

“Oh god, please. Please.”

He wanted to tease you, play with you a little, but he couldn’t be bothered. He would do anything you asked in that moment. His fingers instantly entered you, and you moaned loudly. As his fingers pumped into you furiously, your hips bucked underneath him, only focused on chasing the high he was bringing you to. In the next moment you felt your orgasm come crashing down, your entire body nearly convulsing. Pleasure spread intensely from your core down to your legs, throughout your entire being, your mind starting to float above you in sheer bliss. 

In-ho released himself from you and grinned, observing your flushed face as you settled down. With one look at In-ho, you felt yourself get worked up again, leaning forward to grab his face and kiss him. He pushed you back and hovered over you again, his hands pushing your dress above and off of you. You caressed his sides and down to the bulge in his sweatpants, your mouth all but watering at feeling his cock in your hand. He groaned into your neck and quickly pushed his pants and underwear down together.

At the sight of his hard cock, you pushed him to his back next to you and leaned down to his waist, preparing to take him in your mouth. He sighed loudly and pulled you back to him, pushing your hips over his. 

“Next time, darling. I have to fuck you right now or I’ll lose it.”

Before you could find a response, he lined himself up with your entrance and thrust up into you, immediately groaning at your warmth enveloping him. Despite your orgasm earlier, your body responded to him quickly, indulging in the way he stretched you just enough to not be painful. His cock dragged along your walls deliciously, coaxing a stream of obscene noises from your mouth. In-ho watched you intensely as he pounded into you.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” he huffed below you, soft groans slowly leaving his mouth as he gradually lost more control of himself.

You whimpered, opening your eyes and seeing how he looked at you. The look on his face was beyond feral. With any other person you might’ve been scared at the way he seemed, almost angry, but it just made you melt. You could barely hold yourself up as he fucked you, holding on to your hips for support. 

“It’s okay, I know, darling. I know,” he cooed, pulling you to his chest as he continued pumping into you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. Gonna give you so much of my cum you’ll be filled for days.”

Your walls fluttered around him, moaning uncontrollably at his filthy words. 

“You want that, don’t you? Want me to fill you up?”

It was almost becoming too much, you felt yourself almost having an out of body experience. Your mouth let out a stream of moans, your hands clutching to him for dear life. It felt so good, you simultaneously found yourself chasing another orgasm and wishing you could stay in that moment forever.

In-ho quickly grabbed your waist and pushed you to your back, barely stopping his thrusting as he did so, pushing your thighs up and outward. He moved with a deliberate roughness, like he knew he could do whatever he wanted to you. And you knew you’d let him. You couldn’t have been more open to him, more exposed. 

His thrusts seemed to quicken and stutter at the same time, and you could feel he was close just as you were. He grabbed your hand and brought it to your clit, growling above you. 

“Come on, darling, give it to me and I’ll give you everything.” He grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down, forcing you to watch him fuck you. “Do you want it?”

You cried out, swirling your fingers around your clit, feeling your orgasm approach quickly. “Oh god, fuck… fuck, I need it.”

“I’ll give you every, last…” he huffed above you, his thrusts becoming long and rough, “fucking… drop.”

With a few more intense thrusts, your orgasm exploded inside of you, every nerve ending in your body blooming in pleasure. Your juices gushed out of you, your sensitive flesh savoring the feeling, your body begging for In-ho to release inside of you. He continued thrusting into you, coaxing as much as he could out of you, before letting himself come undone, spilling himself into your aching cunt. He pressed himself unimaginably deep inside you, nearly grinding himself to get deeper. A loud, long guttural groan seemed to release from deep inside his body, the sound alone making you twitch on him. 

His breaths slowed and he gently rested his head on your shoulder before laying next to you. You both laid there in silence for a few moments, your emotions coming back to reality. In-ho watched you with adoring eyes. As good as you felt, a part of you still worried about how he would be now.

He seemed to sense what you were thinking and pulled you close to him. You were a little embarrassed, thinking he was doing this just to placate you.

“Your thoughts are so loud sometimes.”

You sighed and hid your head in his shoulder, too exhausted to say anything. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You peeked up at him to see a slight smile on his face. He glanced at you, and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stood up and turned to you, helping you stand up and leading you to the bathroom.

You showered together in silence, In-ho sensing that you were too overwhelmed for words. He cared for you with a touching gentleness, drying you off and helping you get dressed for bed. He led you back to his bed and you settled under the blankets together, cuddling on In-ho’s side. Just like you had been doing when you woke up the other night.

You sighed, finally feeling more relaxed. “You know, sleeping with you is like sleeping with a furnace.”

He laughed comfortably, a sound you rarely ever heard from him. “You seemed to like it the other night. You clung to me almost immediately.”

You softly gasped. Of course your body betrayed you.

He chuckled and rubbed his hand on your back. “I didn’t mind.”

Smiling, you sighed, thinking that despite all the mistakes you made that day, accidentally booking a one bed suite didn’t end up being so bad.