#the way the circle for it got smaller and smaller

[rekino2114]

Death devil x male reader scenarios

A/n:this is a collection of some small scenarios I had in mind for death that weren't long enough for a full fic some I had in mind ever since she was still fami. Genuinely the more I write for death the more I love her

Disclaimer for this one: I don't know Japanese, and I am probably very wrong, so blame Google translate. Also, don't question the logic of this cause they're supposed to be speaking Japanese so it really doesn't make sense

"We need to find you a human name"

Your girlfriend put down the food she was eating and looked at you with those piercing pink eyes of hers

"Why?"

"I can't just go around saying that my girlfriend is called death"

"I've heard humans with weirded names"

"I.....can't deny that, but don't you think people are gonna get suspicious if they know your name?"

"And why should that matter? If someone starts bothering me I can just scare them until they give up and if they're really persistent I'll just deal with them"

"But you don't have any paperwork and you need to find a human name for those"

"And what would I need paperwork for? Boring human procedures don't interest me"

"To get married for example, you can take my last name but for that you need a human first name and that can't be death"

Death looked lost in thought for a while before resuming to speak in her usual emotionless tone

"......so I can't get married to you unless I get a human name?"

"I guess-"

"Alright then, I'll come up with one'

".....o-oh ok, I didn't think it would be this easy"

"Please I'd do much more to continue being with you"

"Alright, so you got any ideas? oh, and the name can't be fami. I'll admit calling yourself fami when you actually weren't famine was a genuis move, but you need to find another one"

"I wasn't going to use that anyway"

"Then what is it going to be?"

"I.........do not know"

"Really?"

"Sorry, I am not fully familiar with human names, also it's weird to think about changing your name......well I suppose I already did that once but still"

"Oh yeah I get it let me think"

She nodded and resumed eating while you sat opposite to her with your hand on your chin thinking hard about the name for some minutes, until you had an idea

"How about shin?"

"Hm?"

"Doesn't shi mean death? And shin is an actual name right? So it still works do you like it?"

She looked at you even more enigmatically before nodding softly

"Shin......I like it"

"Oh really?"

"Yes its nice"

"OK alright then shin it is"

"Alright........but still call me death in private"

"O-oh of course"

You deadpanned at the sight of your girlfriend dumping in the entire box of cereal she had in the much smaller bowl causing a mountain of small chocolate flavored circles to stand inside and on top of the bowl but it was way too early to deal with her weird tendencies plus you had gotten used to them

"Worthless"

That caught your attention as you took another sip of your hot drink and looked up at death yeeting the box at the wall and starting to eat the cereals spoonful after generous spoonful

"I suppose the cereals are good at least"

"What's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"You looked disappointed when you opened the box"

"Oh yes, I was looking for the toy"

"...........what?"

Death picked up another box of the same brand of cereals and turned it around to reveal the back showing an announcement in bold brightly colored letters that advertised an action figure of a cartoony mascot hidden in some boxes of the cereal

"However when I opened the box the cute toy was nowhere to be found. I will have whoever is responsible for this decapitated"

You were like......65% sure she was joking, but it's always hard to tell with death's lack of expression or any emotion, so you didn't want to take the risk

"C-calm down, it says it's only in some boxes looks like you just got unlucky"

"Oh......I suppose it's true, but it's still disappointing"

"Why are you interested in that toy anyway? I didn't take you as the type to like stuff like that anyway"

"It's cute plus I like his attitude"

".....what do you mean his attitude?"

"His determination to do anything to get the cereal is inspiring, even if all of his plans always end in failure he never lets go of his objective and relentlessly pursues it. It's inspiring really, a representation of humanity's relentless spirit and determination that I admire"

".........death did you......watch the ads for this cereal?"

"Yes, once they came on the tv and I got interested so I watched all of them"

".............you got actually invested.....in cereal ads?"

"Yes, it's one of the better human shows I watched"

You blinked twice genuinely wondering if the woman in front of you actually was the strongest devil in the entire world who was literally this close to ending the entirety of humankind before she met you, but just sighed again and decided to start your own breakfast

You dropped some of the same cereal in your bowl now, understanding why death had been so insistent on buying that specific brand the last time you went grocery shopping but stood shocked when you saw a small plastic toy coming out of the box and resting on the cereals in the bowl

"..............."

You looked up and saw exactly what you expected death staring right at the action figures, once again you sighed and handed her the toy

"Here take it"

"..........really?"

"Yeah of course, it's not like I like it that much anyway"

She quickly grabbed it and started playing with it, twisting its arms and moving it around the table, it was actually kind of adorable to watch. After a few more seconds of playing, she put the toy in front of her chest and hugged it protectively

"Thank you so much, I will treasure your gift with my life, just like you"

".........i-it's nothing"

The next two ideas were given to me by: @michaelaftonhasjoinedthechat thanks

"I'VE GOT IT!"

You put the plate aggressively above the table making sure bot to break it, death moved her pink glowing gaze between your exhausted form while you were trying to catch your breath and the food in front of her

"More food for me? Thank you, you're really been spoiling me with meals lately, is there something special going on?"

You continued breathing heavily, taking a drink of your energy drink before speaking almost yelling in between breaths

"I've spent *breath* these past two weeks *breath* making the perfect dish for you"

"...?"

You took a deep breath and calmed down, wiping sweat from your forehead and now being able to talk in full sentences

"You know how I've been taking cooking classes?"

Death nodded

"And how I've been feeding you food for these past days and asking what you thought of it?"

Another nod

"Well now I have done it! I have made the perfect dish according to your tastes, I took everything you told me you liked and made you the most perfect food possible"

"......I see, can I try it?"

"Obviously, if you couldn't then why would I have done it in the first place?"

Death was taken aback by your unusually aggressive tone

"Oh....You're right I apologize"

You sighed and took another sip of your energy drink

"No it's fine I'm sorry....I'm just.....it took me way too long to make this and now I'm sleep deprived, I'm not complaining mind you, I'm doing this because I love you it was just.... tiring, I hope you like it at least"

"I don't have a shadow of a doubt I will as they say"

Death grabbed the utensil and took a bite out of the dish you made and.....she gasped and her eyes widened it was genuinely the most surprise you had seen out of her in a long while

"So.....what do you think"

After she finished swallowed death started drooling, looking at the food. She ignored your question ans started scarfing down all of the food on her plate without thinking about etiquette or getting her clothes stained or anything else really

Once she finished eating in record time she placed the silverware down before grabbing a napkin you placed next to her, expecting this exact result

".......I.....assume you liked it?"

She finished wiping her mouth and looked at you with her usual emotional stare

"It was the best thing I have ever tasted in my immortal existence"

You sighed in relief, took another energizing sip, and bowed, death, slightly misunderstanding the gesture, started clapping......stopping when she heard a thud and saw you collapsing out of pure exhaustion

".......oh"

Death got up and started carrying you bridal style to bed, you stirred and woke up seeing her staring at you

"....death?"

"Please don't overwork yourself"

"...o-oh yeah sorry"

"It's alright, I just don't want you to be exhausted like this, if cooking that delicious meal causes you to end up like this everytime then I'm more than willing to never eat it again"

"N-no, it's not that. It's my fault. Really, I just worked too hard trying to make it perfect"

"Well it was perfect so at least you reached your results......however"

She lowered her head to kiss your forehead

"I truly dislike seeing you in this state, so remember to take breaks alright? Not even the greatest food in the world is worth seeing my boyfriend like this"

"......thank you"

"By the way how old are you?"

"Hm?"

"Since you're the death devil and all I was curious, I mean i always assumed you were pretty old every since you told me you were a devil but isn't death supposed to be like the oldest fear every living being has in common?"

The devil stopped eating and looked up for a second before her gaze came back to you

"May I tell you a story? It's about how and when I was born"

"Sure"

You sat on the pillow in front of the table and locked eyes with her as she cleared her throat ready to start speaking

"An immeasurable amount of time ago the first being that considered itself alive realized something.....one day it would no longer be, it would cease to exist like the leaves in trees that didn't exist yet, be forgotten by being whose idea wasn't even born yet only existing as an idea a concept of the first life in the world and nothing else......once it had that realization it started living differently, it took the smallest precautions, started taking less risks, whatever those may have been been, all because of one simple idea, a law of nature that every single living thing, human, plant, devil, animal follows with incredibly few exceptions......everyone wants to live as long as possible and die at the latest possible opportunity, some even do not want to die at all despite how impossible that is.....and the first living being followed that rule as well.......even the progenitor of everything around us....was scared of death and once it realized its own mortality....."

Death finally breathed, having not taken a breath during the entirety of her speech. She raised her eyes now, looking at you again with a gaze that made you freeze for no real reason

".....that's when I was born"

You know death didn't mean it but her sheer presence made it hard to breathe you only relaxed slightly once she finished the story because she had resumed eating

".................."

"I don't exactly remember when that was but if I had to take a guess I'd say i'm......around 810 billion years old"

"................really?"

"Approximately so"

".......i guess I'm into older women then"

Warning:this one is pretty suggestive and is probably the result of the many dirty thoughts I had about her. And also my writing sucks even more than usual cause again I don't know how to write smut oneshots

It all started when death came over to you and started kissing your face for no apparent reason, sure it was weird that she did it so out of nowhere but death was such a good kisser that you certainly didn't complain to receive more

Then the kissing moved to your lips, and you two engaged in a heated make-out session for a while. You saw death's face go red, which was unusual considering how muted her skin tone usually was, she was the pale rider after all. But what caused you to become even more surprised is that she quickly started straddling your hips and breathing in your ears

"......y/n.....what I'm feeling right now.....it's the first time I've ever felt anything like it, it's something more than normal love"

You blushed even more. Her closeness made it so you could feel all of her curves pressing against you and her hot whispers made you feel just as turned on as she was

"...d-death"

"Please y/n I want to make you happy in any possible way, please let me make you feel good"

She planted a bite on your neck, however it didn't hurt at all it felt more like another one of her amazing kisses, she continued leaving hickeys across your neck until she reached your lips pulling you into another passionate kiss.

When she pulled back, she looked at you again and then, without warning, started to remove her shirt. You blushed even more at that and looked away for a second but death grabbed you by the chin and turned your head to stare at her face

"Y/n....don't be shy, look at me, at my body, do I......look beautiful?"

Your blush deepened, but you did as said and started scanning her torso. She really did look stunning

"You look more than bea-......WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?"

Death blinked looked at herself and then you before having a realization

"Oh have you never seen a woman naked before y/n? It's alright there's nothing to be embarrassed-"

"NO I MEAN WHY IS THERE A GIANT GASH ACROSS YOUR BODY!?"

She looked down again and emitted a sound of understanding while you continued staring at the giant cut that was present from below her chest all the way to above her crotch

"Did I never tell you about this?"

".....n-no you didn't what the hell even is that?"

"Some time ago, before I met you, I tried to remove all of my organs from my body to see if I could die......as you can see i was unsuccessful"

"................"

"Do not worry though, I have put all of my organs back in their original place.....I'm fairly certain of that at least, I'm not completely familiar with human anatomy and the internet can be unreliable at times so I can't guarantee everything is where it should be.....not that it matters anyway"

".......s-so you're just ok with living with that forever?"

"Why not? It doesn't hurt.......or does that make me less attractive in your eyes?"

For some reason she sounded more worried about the possibility of looking less attractive to you than the gash actually hurting or being an inconvenience

".......no it's fine, to be honest I should have expected something like this when I started dating a devil, you still look beautiful with it it's just......gonna take a while to get used to"

"I understand, I'm sorry for not telling you earlier"

"It's alright just......whenever we go to the beach or the pool....please wear a one piece swimsuit"

"Alright........could we resume what we were doing earlier?"

"........yes"

And with that she kissed you again and placed her on top of you making you fall on the couch and starting to take off your shirt while you were still making out

You don't know exactly why you agreed to go with her, maybe cause you were hungry too or just wanted to stay with her but probably it was because you really did love her so much but no matter the reason you are not sure if it was worth standing in a McDonald's parking lot at 3:54 AM with little to no sleep

Death had woken you up and demanded a midnight snack, the problem was that you had planned to go grocery shopping the next day so your fridge was rigorously empty of any edible things so the solution was obvious, drive to the closest fast food and grab some pick up

You rested your head on the wheel as you turned around and saw death getting into the car with two bags of food in her hands, she gave you one and placed the other on her lap

"Thank you again, I really needed this"

"Yeah alright whatever"

"I promise I'll make it up to you"

You sighed and grabbed one of the burgers from the bag as death did the same

"It's really fine, I don't mind.....just next time let's do this during the day"

Death nodded and took a bite out of her burger. You were about to do the same until you noticed something in your burger, causing you to sigh

"......dammit"

"Hm? Whats wrong?"

"No it's nothing, I just don't like pickles but they're still in the burger"

"........what?"

You turned to see death looking at the burger with what you assumed was indignation

"I specifically asked that yours should have had no pickles.......and they still didn't listen"

"....i-it's fine really, I wasn't hungry anyway"

"....I'll fix the issue"

"Wha-"

Before you could finish your sentence, death wasn't in the passenger seat anymore, you don't know if she teleported or was so fast that you genuinely didn't see her but you quickly ran out too and entered the restaurant to see her arguing with the overworked underpaid teenage girl at the register

"I don't see anything wrong with the burger"

"There are pickles"

"And?"

"My boyfriend doesn't like them"

"So what am I supposed to do about his baby palate"

Death narrowed her eyes at his comment but tried her best to maintain her composure

"I need a new burger"

"I am not making another burger at 4:00 am cause you ordered wrong, you're lucky I even made you the first one, you know I shouldn't even be here, my stupid boss-"

"I could not care less, I need a new burger and you are going to make it"

"And the hell would I do that?"

"Because I ordered one without pickles and you still added them, You made a mistake so now fix it, isn't that common human decency?"

"Fuck off weirdo, I'm not making your stupid boyfriend another burger just because he can't handle a little bit of pickles"

In that moment you knew the poor girl was fucked, as soon as she finished her sentence death grabbed her by her uniform making her look up at her while she was glaring at the girl with her piercing eyes

"Apologize to y/n"

"W-wha-"

"I don't care if you called me weird or whatever, what I care about is you insulting my boyfriend because of his tastes, apologize and make him a new burger, do you understand?"

"...........i-i-"

"Do you understand?"

"I-i'm sorry"

Death let go of the girl's uniform as she started running to the back to make the food while you approve your girlfriend sweat dripping down your face

"And give us free fries"

"Y-yes ma'am"

"........did you seriously just scare to death a teenage girl cause she put pickles on my burger?"

"No......I did that because she disrespected you"

"...I.....I see"

"Don't worry I'll give her a tip later for the good service"

[5starluvr]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3

Paring:Han jisung,Lee Minho x Reader

Genre: slow-burn ,smut, angst, (one second of fluff)

a/n:90% is straight up angst so be warned.I also keep having formatting problem since my lovely phone is hanging on by a thread..

Warnings: Degrading & praise kink ,Dom/sub dynamic, Sir kink, Threesome (m/m/f) , Anal, Double penetration ,Smoking ,Emotional manipulation Voyeurism ,Rough sex ,Power imbalance, Obsession themes, Toxic relationship elements

Summary: You were just group partners. Just friends. Just fucking.

But Minho doesn't do "just." And Jisung doesn't know when to stop loving people who hurt him.

Now you're caught between a boy who wants to own you and a boy who wants to be owned—

—and neither of them plans on letting go.

The words sat there between you, sharp and too heavy for how quiet the room had gotten.

You pressed your forehead against your knees, fingers curling in the blanket still twisted around your waist. Your skin still buzzed faintly, your legs aching in that slow, sinking way that follows adrenaline. But your head—your chest—felt stuck somewhere else entirely.

Jisung didn’t look at you when he spoke next, his voice smaller now, like the weight of the room was finally catching up to him too.

“You think it’s just me?”

You looked up, blinking fast.

He rubbed his hands over his face, breathing uneven.

“He does it to everyone,” he muttered. “Gives you the thing you’ve been chasing. And then—” his fingers flexed, motioning faintly to the door, to the emptiness Minho left behind, “—he reminds you it’s his choice. Not yours.”

The ache in your chest twisted.

You knew it wasn’t just Jisung. Not really. The tension, the hunger, the quiet unraveling Minho left in his wake—he did that to you too. Pulled you in, wrecked you, and left the pieces to settle where they landed.

Your voice cracked when you spoke.

“I thought I could handle it.”

Jisung snorted softly, humorless.

“Yeah… me too.”

The air pressed heavier between you both, silence stretching wider, but not empty this time. Full of every unspoken thing—the tension, the confusion, the raw pieces of yourself left on the floor with no one to tell you how to pick them up.

You cleared your throat, voice quieter.

“So, what do we do now?”

Jisung shrugged, still not looking at you.

“We wait,” he said. “See how long it takes for him to want to break us again.”

The room settled into the hum of silence—the walls too thin, the air too still. Every creak of the floor, every distant door closing down the hall, made your chest tighten, waiting for footsteps that didn’t come.

You spoke first.

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

Jisung’s jaw clenched, his hands twisting at the hem of his shirt.

“He will.”

There wasn’t certainty in his voice. Just exhaustion.

Your pulse stuttered uneven in your chest, your mouth opening—but the words tangled behind your teeth, too heavy to say.

You didn’t want to admit it—the way your body still ached, the way your brain still spun in circles, caught somewhere between hunger and regret.

Jisung finally looked at you.

His eyes were dark, rimmed with red, raw in a way that made your throat tighten.

“You think you’re the only one he leaves like this?”

You shook your head, voice breaking on the edges.

“It’s different with you.”

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“We’re both wrecked. That’s the only thing we’ve got in common right now.”

The ache pressed deeper into your ribs.

You pulled the blanket higher, curling into yourself even as Jisung exhaled beside you, his body sagging with the weight of it all.

The clock on the dresser ticked louder than necessary.

The door stayed shut.

And the room stayed bruised.

You didn’t know how long you both sat there—not speaking, not touching—just waiting for Minho’s absence to snap into presence again.

But you knew one thing.

The damage was done.

—————

The second it ended, Minho felt the shift.

Breathless bodies tangled on the floor, sweat cooling fast, the room heavy with the hum of spent adrenaline and the ghosts of everything they just did.

But beneath it?

Silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

The what now kind. The too real kind.

Jisung’s chest rose and fell too fast, lips still parted, his eyes blown wide, unfocused in a way Minho recognized too well. The high wearing off, the sharp edge of self-awareness creeping back in.

Y/n curled in on herself, blanket half-draped over bare skin, flushed cheeks, hands gripping fabric like it might anchor her.

Minho exhaled through his nose.

This is why he didn’t stay.

Because the moment after? It was messier than anything they did with their bodies.

His pulse still raced, blood buzzing under his skin, but already his mind was calculating the damage.

Jisung wouldn’t say it, but the cracks were there—shoulders tense, fingers flexing against the floorboards, throat working around words that wouldn’t come.

She didn’t look at him.

Not directly.

Her gaze flicked between them, between herself, retreat written in the way her knees tucked tighter to her chest.

Minho stood.

The room shifted with him, air stretching taut, every creak of the floorboard louder than it should’ve been.

Jisung flinched faintly when Minho’s shirt slid back over his head.

Y/n‘s eyes snapped down, avoiding the weight of his stare.

And that?

That was the part he couldn’t stand.

The look they gave him when it was over.

Want tangled with regret. Hunger tangled with hesitation.

They wanted him.

But only when they forgot the consequences.Minho’s jaw clenched.His fingers curled into the door handle.

Leave before they ask you to.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t look back.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the tension inside.

Moments later the hallway was too quiet.

Minho’s fists pressed into his pockets, teeth grinding as the ache in his chest settled sharp.

Fleeing always worked—until it didn’t.

Because their faces stayed with him.

The weight of their want.

The cracks in their voices when it stopped feeling like control.

And now?

He was pacing the hallway like an idiot.

Pulse racing.

The wreckage of their bodies still mapped onto his hands.

His fists clenched tighter.

The part that scared him wasn’t that they might break.

It was that he already had.

The corridor’s cold light flickered above him, each step echoing louder than the last, a harsh reminder that running only bought him more silence—and more time to think.

His heart slammed against his ribs, heavy and relentless. The pieces they left behind, raw and trembling, weren’t just theirs. They were his too. A quiet destruction woven into every touch, every word left unsaid, every fleeting moment that promised something and then withdrew it without warning.

Minho’s breath hitched as the weight of it all pressed down—how much damage did he carry beneath his own skin? How many fractures had he stacked, one on top of the other, until they bled into something unrecognizable?

He stopped pacing. Pressed his palm against the cool wall, eyes closing tight.

How do you fix something when you don’t even want to admit it’s broken?

The hallway stretched on, endless and indifferent.

Behind the closed door, Y/n and Jisung sat bruised, fragile. Waiting.

Waiting for him to come back. Or not.

And somewhere deep inside, Minho realized the truth he’d been running from—

No matter how far he fled, the breaking never truly ended.

It just changed form.

And maybe, this time, the silence would be louder than before.

the cold surface steady beneath his shaking hand as the storm inside him raged louder than ever.

What the hell is he doing? His mind demanded. He’s the one who decides when to come and when to leave. He’s the one they need.ZHe’s the one in control.

But then the doubt crept in, silent and suffocating.

Is he really though? The thought slipped in like a shadow in the dark.

Or is he just running? Running from the wreckage he leaves behind every time? Maybe he wasn’t the one holding the reins. Maybe he was just the storm—shattering everything, then disappearing before the pieces even settled.

His breath caught, ragged and uneven.

They want him, right? His ego insisted. They always come back.

But what if—

What if he wasn’t the steady force in this?

What if he was just another fracture in the chaos?

The thought tasted bitter and harsh. The part of him that screamed I’m necessary faltered, weakened.

Maybe he was too broken to fix any of this. Maybe he was the reason it all fell apart.

His fingers trembled, clutching the wall as if it was the only thing holding him together.

He told himself again: he’s supposed to be in control.

But deep down, beneath the fight, the creeping doubt whispered its cruel truth—control had never been his to hold.

And that truth scared him more than anything else ever could.

————-

The next few weeks were awful. No more trio hangouts, no more late-night talks sprawled on the living room floor, no more stolen laughs or quiet moments that made everything feel less heavy. The easy rhythm they once had shattered, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that stretched between them like a thin thread.

Jisung stayed mostly quiet, his usual spark dulled beneath layers of exhaustion. Y/n withdrew further into herself, clutching that same blanket like it could shield her from the cold distance growing between them all. Minho was no different — pacing through the days, caught between wanting to reach out and the fear of breaking whatever fragile thing remained. They were three people in the same space but worlds apart, each carrying pieces of the damage that no one knew how to mend. The weight of everything they left unsaid settled heavy in the air, and with every passing day, it felt harder to remember what had held them together in the first place.

The following weeks were a slow unraveling. The easy rhythm they’d shared—the late-night hangouts, the careless laughter between the three of them—had all but disappeared. The trio’s dynamic fractured under the weight of everything left unsaid, and the silence between Minho, Y/n, and Jisung grew heavier with each passing day.

Y/n and Jisung retreated inward, their conversations growing shorter, smiles less frequent. Minho tried to reach out, but every attempt felt forced, like he was banging on a locked door no one wanted to open. The distance wasn’t just physical; it was something deeper—something he couldn’t bridge no matter how hard he tried.

Minho filled his time with anything to keep his mind off the ache: long runs, late nights scrolling through his phone, drowning in music. But nothing could quiet the gnawing knot of jealousy that began to grow beneath the surface. He hated himself for it, but the thought of Y/n leaning on someone else, of her finding comfort without him, cut deeper than he expected.

And then, one night, it happened.

The frat party was a mess of noise and flashing lights, a blur of bodies and music. Minho wasn’t planning to stay long—he rarely did—but something pulled him toward the back porch, where the crowd thinned and the air felt cooler. He wasn’t ready for what he saw.

Y/n, laughing softly, her head tilted up toward Han. The way Han’s fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, the gentle curve of his smile—it all felt like a quiet, tender world Minho had no part in. And then, when Han leaned in and kissed her—slow, sure, without hesitation—everything inside Minho twisted tight.

Jealousy surged through him, raw and unfamiliar. Not just because he saw them together, but because the moment felt like a confirmation: while he’d been pacing halls and fighting his own demons, Y/n and Han had started moving on. They were finding solace somewhere else, each other.

He stayed frozen on the porch, the noise of the party fading into a dull hum. His breath caught in his throat, and for a long moment, all he could do was watch. Because the truth he’d been avoiding was clear now. Maybe he’d already lost them.

Minho stayed rooted on the porch, the chaos of the party a muffled roar behind him. His eyes were fixed on Y/n, standing just a few feet away, bathed in the soft glow of string lights tangled overhead. She looked… different. Not in a way he could easily put into words, but something about her caught him off guard—the way her hair fell loose around her face, catching the light just right. The subtle curve of her jawline. The quiet strength in her posture, even as she laughed softly with Han.

Her eyes sparkled, bright and alive, untouched by the weight he’d seen in them before. And in that moment, Minho felt a strange ache, like seeing someone you thought you knew for the first time—and realizing maybe you didn’t know them at all.

She was beautiful. Not just because of how she looked, but because she was her—whole and real, even without him.

The jealousy in his chest twisted tighter, but beneath it was something rawer—something closer to regret. He swallowed hard, eyes still locked on her.

Maybe he was the one who’d changed. Maybe the part of her and Han he thought he knew was already gone. And he wasn’t sure if he could find his way back.

The alcohol blurred Minho’s edges, burning heat flooding his chest and dulling the ache he’d carried for weeks. The jealousy that had simmered beneath the surface finally boiled over, sharp and unforgiving. He stumbled off the porch, eyes fixed on Y/n and Han—the way they leaned into each other, so easy and untouched by the wreckage he felt inside.

Without thinking, Minho closed the distance between them in heavy, uneven steps.

“Hey,” his voice was rough, louder than he meant, cutting through their quiet bubble.

Y/n looked up, startled, her smile faltering. Han straightened immediately, eyes wary.

“What’s up, Minho?” Han’s tone was cautious but steady.

Minho’s gaze flicked between them, chest tight and voice shaking with something that felt like desperation and anger.

“Is this what you’ve been doing? Finding comfort in him?” The words spilled out harsh and bitter, too loud for the room.

Y/n’s eyes widened, hurt flashing there. “Minho—” she started, but he cut her off.

“No. Save it.” His laugh was bitter, unsteady. “You don’t need me, right? You’ve got Han now.”

Han stepped forward, protective but measured. “That’s enough, man. You’re drunk—”

“Drunk? Maybe. But at least I’m not pretending.” Minho’s voice cracked, raw. “At least I’m not running away from what I wreck.”

Han’s jaw tightened. “You think I’m pretending? You think I’m some easy replacement? I care about her—”

Minho scoffed, eyes flashing. “Care? Is that what you call it? You swoop in when I’m gone, when I’m broken, and suddenly you’re the hero? You don’t get to play that part.”

Han’s expression darkened. “You don’t get to control her, Minho. She’s not yours to protect or to lose.”

The words hit harder than Minho expected. His fists clenched at his sides, shaking with the fight raging inside him.

Y/n’s voice cut through, quiet but steady. “Stop. Both of you.”

But Minho’s anger wouldn’t let go—not yet.

“Maybe I don’t want to let go,” he spat, voice raw. “Maybe I’m the one who’s broken here. But at least I’m not a coward.”

The tension hung thick between them, every word a fresh wound, every glance a challenge.

Minho’s eyes darkened, the sharp sting of jealousy and frustration swirling inside him like a storm. The alcohol dulled the edges of his usual restraint, leaving his words rough, reckless—words he didn’t mean to say but couldn’t stop himself from voicing.

He took a step closer to Han, his voice low but dripping with disdain. “You really think you’re some kind of savior, huh? Some knight in shining armor?” He scoffed bitterly. “Newsflash—you’re just a confused kid with an identity crisis. Always been that way. A damn antisocial mess who hides behind some vague act of caring.”

Han’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, but Minho wasn’t finished. His gaze shifted, sharp and unforgiving, landing on Y/n. “And you…” His voice dropped, heavy and cruel. “You’re just a stupid broken girl. Always running after someone—anyone—because you’re too scared to be alone. Too scared to face what you really are inside.”

Y/n’s breath caught, a mixture of shock and pain flashing across her face. She opened her mouth, desperate to speak, to push back, but Minho cut her off before she could.

“Don’t even try to tell me I’m wrong,” he spat, stepping closer, his voice cold and merciless. “You don’t even know how to stand on your own. You chase validation like it’s the only thing keeping you alive, because maybe it is. Maybe you never got enough of it when you needed it most.”

Han took a cautious step forward, fists clenched, but Minho didn’t flinch. Instead, his anger only grew, fueled by months of bottled-up hurt and self-loathing.

“You both act like you’re strong. Like you’ve got it all figured out. But you’re fragile—fragile and lost—and I’m supposed to be the asshole who fixes all that? No. I’m the one who shattered everything to pieces.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears now, but she swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice trembling as she finally spoke. “Minho, this isn’t you. This isn’t what any of us wanted.”

Han’s voice was quieter now but no less firm. “You’re drowning in your own pain, Minho. But pulling us under with you? That’s not the answer.”

Minho’s breath hitched, his chest tightening. For a moment, his harsh words faltered as the weight of their faces—hurt, worried, tired—pressed down on him. But then the bitterness surged again, louder than reason.

“Maybe I don’t want to be whole,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Maybe you’re too broken for that.”

Y/n’s breath caught as Minho’s words hit her like stones, heavy and sharp. The heat rising in her chest wasn’t just from pain—it was something fiercer, a sudden rush of defiance she hadn’t expected to feel.

She swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in her eyes, and then—slowly, deliberately—she took a step forward, closing the space Minho had tried to build between them with his anger.

“You think I’m broken?” Her voice was low at first, quiet enough to make him lean in, but it carried a strength that surprised even her. “Maybe I am. But at least I’m not the one who’s so lost in his own mess that he can’t see what he’s destroying.”

Her gaze locked with his, steady and unwavering.

“You call Han antisocial, confused… like you’re some kind of judge sitting above it all.” She shook her head, bitter. “But look at you. You run. You push away the people who care. You’re so afraid of facing yourself that you’d rather tear everyone else down instead of looking in the mirror.”

Minho’s jaw tightened, but Y/n didn’t stop.

“I’m tired of being the ‘broken girl’ you think I am. I’m tired of being your excuse, your target.” Her voice cracked, but she swallowed the tears, forcing the words out. “I’m done standing here taking your anger like it’s all my fault.”

Han shifted beside her, wary, but Y/n pressed on, voice growing stronger.

“You want to blame me for seeking comfort? For needing someone to hold onto? Maybe I never got what I needed from you, Minho. Maybe I was always too scared to ask. But that doesn’t give you the right to spit on me like I’m nothing.”

She took another step closer, the tension thick between them.

“If you want to fight your demons, fight them yourself. Don’t drag us into your war and expect us to pick up the pieces.”

The silence that followed was heavy—full of the weight of everything said and everything left unsaid.

Minho’s eyes flickered with something raw and vulnerable beneath the anger. For a moment, the fight inside him wavered.

His chest heaved, shoulders tense, fingers curled at his sides like he was still holding onto the last thread of control — or what he thought was control. The words Y/N threw at him rang louder than the music still pulsing faintly from inside the party. Her voice, cracked but fierce, sliced through the haze of his bitterness like glass shattering on tile.

And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

Every syllable cut into the part of him that hated being seen for what he was — fractured, scared, drowning in the wreckage he built himself.

Han’s hand hovered at Y/N’s elbow, not pulling her back, but steadying — a quiet show of support that twisted something deeper in Minho’s chest. The space between them all hung tight. A breath away from exploding, or collapsing, or both.

Minho’s voice finally broke the silence, low and frayed at the edges. “You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know how badly I’m fucking this up?”

Y/N’s jaw clenched, eyes shining with the last threads of defiance holding her together.

Minho’s throat worked around the knot there, the bitterness folding in on itself as his gaze dragged over both of them, Y/N standing steady despite the shake in her breath, Han hovering protective but wary, and himself… standing in the ruin of his own mess.

“I run,” Minho admitted, voice quieter now, but sharp as ever. “Because every time I stay, I make it worse.”

The confession slipped out before he could catch it, heavy and unpolished.

Y/N’s posture faltered, just faintly, but her eyes stayed locked to his, guarded, searching for sincerity beneath the fight.

Han’s brows furrowed, lips parting like he wasn’t sure whether to push back or stay silent.

Minho exhaled shakily, jaw tense, gaze flicking toward the ground for half a second.

“I didn’t want to see you two like this,” he added, the admission quieter, stripped raw. “I didn’t want to stand there and realize you’re better off without me.”

The honesty cracked something loose, inside him, between them, but the air stayed thick, unresolved.

Y/N’s voice softened, barely above a whisper. “We weren’t better off… we were just surviving.”

Minho’s eyes snapped up, the raw edge behind her words hitting harder than any insult. The weight of it settled heavy in the space between them.

Surviving. Not healed. Not whole. Just… scraping by.

A bitter, exhausted sound slipped from Minho’s throat, not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. “What are we even doing?” His voice cracked, frustration curling tight around the edges. “I keep breaking everyone. I keep pretending I know what this is.”

Y/N’s hands dropped to her sides, her posture loosening, but her eyes never left his. “You can’t leave and expect us to wait,” she said quietly, voice steadier now. “And you can’t tear us down when we find ways to stay standing.”

Han’s hand squeezed her elbow lightly, a silent show of agreement.

Minho’s chest burned with the weight of it — the anger, the regret, the ache that never really left. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a sharp retort. No venom left in his throat. Just the heavy truth hanging between them, raw and unspoken.

The space between them stretched tight, breathless, all jagged edges and words left hanging in the air. Minho’s jaw flexed, his eyes darting between Y/N and Han, every muscle in his body wound too tight — like one wrong word would shatter him all over again.

But the fight? The bitterness? It bled out of him in slow, uneven exhales, replaced by something messier. Something he’d been avoiding longer than he could admit.

His eyes landed on Han — steady, guarded, that same careful spark in his stare that always unnerved Minho more than he’d let on.

And the words cracked free before he could stop them.

“You think I hate you because you’re here with her,” Minho muttered, voice rough, low. “But that’s not it.”

Han’s brows pinched, cautious but silent.

Y/N’s eyes flicked between them, her breathing uneven, as if sensing the weight of something unsaid finally pushing to the surface.

Minho’s throat tightened, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

“I’ve been running from this shit longer than either of you realize,” he confessed, every syllable dragged raw from his chest. “Not just… the mess with her. But—” his voice faltered, eyes dropping to the floor before snapping back up, sharp and cornered, “—with you.”

The words hung there. Heavy. Loaded.

Han’s mouth parted, expression shifting — confusion bleeding into realization, then something softer Minho couldn’t name yet.

Y/N’s breath caught faintly, her hand curling at her side, but she didn’t interrupt.

Minho forced himself to keep going, to crack the wall wide open.

“I’ve been lying to myself,” he admitted, voice fraying at the edges. “Telling myself it’s just jealousy. Just control. But it’s not—” his eyes met Han’s, raw, stripped of all pretense, “—it’s want.”

The last word hit the air like breaking glass.

The confession hung heavy, no defense left to shield him.

Han stood frozen, eyes wide, the quiet weight of the moment unraveling between them.

Y/N’s gaze softened, the sharp ache in her chest twisting into something deeper — something that wasn’t anger anymore.

Minho exhaled, shaky, his voice barely holding steady.

“I like you,” he bit out, bitter like the truth always is. “And I’ve been a coward about it. About all of it. I didn’t want to actually admit that I liked boys too.”

No one moved.

The music from the party buzzed faint behind them, but the world narrowed down to this small, fractured space — three people standing in the wreckage, finally seeing the cracks for what they were.

Han’s voice broke the silence first, rough but steady.

“Then stop running.”

Minho’s chest tightened, every instinct screaming to bolt — but his feet stayed planted.

The fight wasn’t gone.

But maybe the denial was.

And that? That scared him more than anything else.

The words settled like static—loud, heavy, clinging to the air long after Minho’s voice faded. No one moved. The distant hum of the party drifted in through the cracked door, but it felt far away now—unimportant. All that existed was this thin thread of silence stretching between the three of them, threatening to snap under its own weight.

Y/N’s chest ached with the heaviness of it—the sharp edges of Minho’s anger stripped away, replaced by something messier. Vulnerability raw and jagged, too real to look at without feeling like your ribs might crack open.

Han was the first to shift. His mouth parted, his eyes wide—not surprised exactly, but knocked off balance in a way Minho had never seen before. His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, but there wasn’t rejection written in his face. Just… the quiet unraveling of walls Minho never thought would break.

“You’re an idiot,” Han said finally—low, steady, cutting through the thick silence.

Minho flinched faintly, his fists tightening.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice cracked, rough, stripped down to the bone. “I’ve been lying to myself for months. Lying to both of you.”

Y/N’s hand hovered at her side, like she wanted to reach for someone—either of them—but couldn’t quite decide if the space between them was safe yet. Han’s eyes flicked to her briefly, then back to Minho. His voice was quieter when he spoke next.

“You hate losing control more than you hate the truth,” Han murmured. “That’s why you run. That’s why you push us away.”

Minho’s throat worked, the knot there tightening.

“I thought… if I kept this buried…” He trailed off, jaw clenching, struggling to form words that didn’t sound like self-destruction. “If I kept wanting you in the dark… it wouldn’t ruin everything.”

Han’s brow furrowed, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“You think hiding this is what keeps us whole?”

Minho exhaled sharply, frustration twisting into his chest like wire.

“I think I’m the reason everything’s cracked wide open,” he bit out, voice bitter but fraying at the edges. “I wanted both of you—wanted more—and I’ve done nothing but break you apart.”

The ache in Y/N’s chest deepened, but her voice was steady when it finally broke through the tension.

“We were never whole to begin with,” she whispered. “You didn’t break us… we were just holding the pieces tighter than we should’ve.”

Han’s posture loosened faintly, his shoulders dropping as his gaze slid to her, the tension in his jaw softening.

For the first time, Minho didn’t have a retort.

He just stood there—raw, exposed, breathing uneven—watching the mess he built unravel in front of him.

But maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t the end.

The quiet pressed in again. Not the sharp, combative silence from before—this was heavier, messier. The kind that left room for breathing, but not much else.

Minho’s shoulders stayed tense, the weight of his own words still clawing at his ribs. His confession hung in the air—unfinished, vulnerable, dangerous.

Y/N’s fingers flexed at her sides, her gaze drifting between the two of them. She looked steady, but Minho could see the cracks—the lingering exhaustion, the ache beneath her frustration.

Han shifted his weight, his stance still guarded but not hostile anymore. His eyes stayed locked on Minho’s, quiet calculation flickering there. But there was no retreat. No outright rejection either.

They were all still standing here. Somehow.

Minho broke the silence first, his voice quieter, rougher around the edges now.

“I don’t expect you to… get it,” he muttered, gaze dropping for a beat before snapping back to Han. “Or forgive me for how I’ve handled this.”

Han’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his expression wasn’t cruel—just worn.

“You think this is about forgiveness?” Han asked softly. “We’re all tangled in this mess. You, me, her.” His hand gestured faintly toward Y/N without looking away. “No one’s walking out clean.”

Minho’s throat tightened, but he nodded—slow, measured, like the agreement cracked loose from his chest reluctantly.

Y/N’s voice followed, softer but clear.

“We can’t keep going like this,” she added. “Running, breaking, pretending.”

Her eyes held both of theirs now, even as her arms wrapped tight around herself, like her own body was still bracing for the weight of the fallout.

“We don’t have to solve it tonight,” Y/N continued, voice quieter. “But…” she hesitated, the words heavy, real, “we can’t tear each other down.”

Han’s gaze softened faintly.

Minho’s jaw flexed, the knot in his chest unwinding a fraction.

The air stayed tense—cautious—but the edges dulled, a slow unraveling of defenses happening in real time.

Han took a step closer, his voice low, steady.

“We try,” he said simply. “No guarantees. No pretending we’ve got it figured out.”

Y/N exhaled, her posture easing slightly.

Minho’s pulse thudded in his ears, his gaze flicking between them—Y/N’s quiet strength, Han’s tentative steadiness—and the wreckage he’d been so sure was irreversible suddenly didn’t feel final.

He wasn’t whole. Neither were they.

But maybe… the pieces didn’t have to stay scattered.

Minho nodded once, the motion small but real.

“We try.”

The agreement hovered—fragile, unfinished—but there.

It wasn’t resolution.

But it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

The tension didn’t vanish. It lingered, coiled in the quiet between them, the way storms do when they’ve passed but the air still hums with electricity.

But no one moved to leave. That was something.

Han’s stance eased, his fists unclenching at his sides, shoulders loosening as the sharp edge behind his gaze faded into something more cautious. His eyes flicked to Y/N, lingering there a beat longer than necessary, steady and unreadable but not closed off.

Minho’s pulse still kicked uneven in his chest, the words he’d spilled — jagged, raw, unfinished — echoing louder in his head than anything else. But his feet stayed planted.

He wasn’t running. Not this time.

Y/N’s arms stayed wrapped tight around herself, but her chin lifted, her stare steady as she met Minho’s eyes.

“Trying means honesty,” she said softly. “Even when it’s messy. Even when you hate it.”

Minho’s lips curled faintly, not quite a smile, but the corner of his mouth lifted despite himself.

“You love pushing your luck, huh?” His voice was rough, but lighter now, the sharp bitterness dulling to something closer to teasing.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed faintly, but her mouth twitched with the ghost of a smirk.

Han snorted under his breath, arms crossing over his chest as his gaze drifted toward the ground, the tension in his jaw softening.

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t fixed.

But it was real.

The quiet stretched, heavy but not unbearable.

Minho exhaled slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets, his voice dropping lower, stripped of defenses.

“I don’t know how to do this the right way,” he admitted. “But I’m done pretending I don’t care.”

Han’s brows lifted faintly, but he nodded once — solid, measured.

Y/N’s expression cracked open, the walls in her gaze loosening just enough to let something softer in.

No one rushed to close the distance.

But no one stepped back either.

For the first time in weeks, they stood there — raw, bruised, unfinished — and it didn’t feel like everything was about to fall apart.

It wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t whole.

But maybe, finally, they weren’t standing on opposite sides of the wreckage.

Maybe they were ready to start pulling through it — together.

[vastnbeyond]

/ The desire to make a promo vs the fear of being known-

[bunnis-monsters]

Sacrificial Heifer

Bull Hybrids x Cow Hybrid!Reader

Commissioned by: @yuriohoe04

WC: 1k

A/N: Only 2 more slots for my commissions rn! Make sure to get them while you can. Once my comms are closed I won’t be opening them again until all my comms are finished ^^

Warnings: dubcon, breeding, lactation, pregnancy, gangbang

🥛 🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛

It had been a week since the farmer announced that you and your barn mates were ready to be bred for the first time.

At first, the lot of you were excited, some even ovulating and ready to breed. One of your friends had her tail lifted up, and it swayed softly as she sighed.

“Can’t you imagine it, being bred by a handsome bull? Do you think they’d want to settle and become mates?”

You rolled your eyes, swatting her thigh with your tail. “Not likely. Most bulls are just looking for a heifer to breed and toss aside for the next one. You’ll be lucky if they give you more than a few minutes of your time.”

An older cow had warned you many times that bulls liked to play with young heifers’ hearts, and that if you wanted to live a peaceful life on the farm, then you’d just breed and go about your day.

That’s what you told yourself out of fear of getting your heart broken… until the day finally came to breed.

All the other heifers were filling themselves up, brushing out their hair and tidying themselves up. The pheromones wafting through the barn were thick, almost stifling.

This all changed when the bulls walked in. They were big, bulky, and honestly? Terrifying.

They walked in with confidence, eyeing the new heifers with keen, sharp eyes that told you they were more than experienced when it came to breeding.

“Alright, who’s first?”

All the heifers shivered at the authoritative tone of voice. They had never been spoken to in such a way. The farmers they’ve had in the past had always been gentle, giving their bottoms hearty slaps as they herded them into the barn.

These bulls didn’t look like they even knew what the word gentle meant. They knew how to work with an inexperienced heifer, how to breed them into submission and stuff them full of cum.

You looked on with a mix of nervousness and curiosity. The bulls were definitely handsome, and despite their rough way of speaking, the way they tried their best to look a bit smaller told you that maybe they weren’t as bad as you had been told.

Before you could retreat to observe them from the back of the stall, you were shoved out into an open space, landing in the arms of one of the bulls.

“A volunteer. Cute one too.”

You yelped as your ass was groped, the bull squeezing it lightly before inspecting your face. “Little heifer, no need to be nervous. Gonna put a calf in you, alright?”

“Quite small, ain’t she?”

Another bull approached you from behind, lifting up your tail to get a better look at your fat ass. “Perfectly plump too. Got them child bearing hips… mmm…”

The feeling of a cock rubbing against your panties made your body freeze up. They both cooed at you, already able to sense your pheromones spiking. “Someone’s begging to be fucked silly, huh?”

One of the bulls traced circles over your clothed clit, laughing as you blubbered our half hearted pleas for them to let you go. “Hush, heifer. You’re soaking my hand, gotta breed that fat cunt of yours.”

Before long you were being hoisted up, a big fat cock pushing against your pussy. It was huge, and you were sure it would tear your body in two!

“Sure this little thing can take it?” another bull asked, this one playing with your clit as the other two bulls prepped your hole. “Smallest heifer in the herd I’ve seen so far…”

“She’ll take it.”

And with that, he rutted into you, stretching your fat pussy out as he bounced you on his cock. It was painful at first, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, but your body was built for this. You were made to be bred by bulls, to get pregnant and produce milk and calves.

You felt your pussy gush as he fucked into you, biting into your shoulder. “That’s it, baby. Cream on my cock, lemme hear you cry out for me.”

You were passed around by the bulls, feeling so full and happy. As you were bent over and groped by another bull, you let out the prettiest of moans.

“God, that’s it, that’s a good heifer. Take my load, fuck…”

A bull took one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling as another mounted and bred you thoroughly. Before you were a virgin, and now you were being fucked by so many different cocks that you could barely think.

They rolled you onto your tummy, lifting your ass into the air and eating the cum out of your pussy, wanting to give you a nice and fresh creampie and hoping their’s would be the load to impregnate your fertile womb.

All the other heifer’s watched in awe and jealousy as the bulls kept their attention on you, unable to spare a second glance to the others. You were so cute, a small, chubby little heifer that was perfect for beating calves. How the hell were they supposed to breed anyone else when you were bouncing on their cocks?

By the end of the breeding session, your belly was distended, stuffed full of cum. None of the other heifers were bred because the bulls were way too busy doting on you after they all got a turn.

Now, as your belly began to swell with a calf and your tits got heavy and full, the bulls couldn’t help but cum all over and in you. Your pretty mouth and pussy was always keeping someone’s cock nice and warm.

Drinking milk from your fat and heavy tits was the best part of their day. They had to test your milk to make sure it was high quality… and they also just wanted to suck on your nipples.

After all, you were their perfect little breeding cow. None of the other heifers compared to you, none as sweet and soft and pretty. If anyone had a problem, they could take it up with the bulls.

You sat on your bed, being fed strawberries as your belly was massaged.

Maybe that older cow was wrong, because these bulls adored you with their entire heart… and you were excited to be thoroughly bred again once you gave birth.

You were a cow hybrid after all, and needed to produce lots of milk and calves. Being a breeding cow was your job…

And you were damn good at it.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143

[joeyfromthetrack]

Whipped - OP⁸¹

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar being so hopelessly in love with his girlfriend on so many occasions. Contains: so much fluff, time jumps, minor mention of Hungary '24, established relationship

Oscar had just finished qualifying. P1, not perfect, but damn near it. He stepped out of the media pen, peeling off his cap, hair damp underneath. His race engineer handed him a bottle of water and nodded him toward the scheduled interview with Sky Sports. Just another four-minute carousel of answers he’d given a hundred times before.

The interviewer greeted him with a practiced smile. “Oscar Piastri, in the championship fight and putting it on pole. You looked sharp in sector one and two, little wobble but great recovery in sector three. Talk us through the lap.”

He responded with the usual diplomacy. “Yeah, I felt strong in the first half. The wind shifted a little toward the end, and I overcommitted on the last chicane. Still, car’s feeling good. We’ve got a good chance tomorrow being on pole.”

Another question about tire strategy. Another about the standings.

Then, just as the interviewer was winding down: “You’ve been bringing your special someone into the paddock a little more recently. Fans are curious. Is she your lucky charm?”

Oscar smiled, not the showbiz grin, but something smaller, real. He could feel the answer rising before he even thought about it.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes flicking away for just a second. “I mean, she’s not here for luck. I just” He paused. “I think... everything just feels better when she’s around. I don’t know how else to put it.”

The interviewer chuckled, clearly not expecting something so soft from a man known for his sharp focus. “That’s the most romantic thing we’ve heard from a driver all year.”

Oscar shrugged, not trying to play it down. “I think if someone makes you feel like yourself when everything else gets noisy... that’s worth holding onto.”

Later, she would see the clip online. She wouldn’t text him about it. She wouldn’t need to.

At Suzuka, just before race start, the sky was moody, crowd roaring behind fences, and Oscar stood in his grid slot, helmet in hand. She kissed his cheek, lingering longer than usual.

“You always do this,” he said, smiling.

“What?”

“Kiss me like it’s the last time.”

“Because I never know.”

He sobered. “Hey. Don’t say that.”

“I have to think about it. One of us has to.”

He pulled her into him, briefly, like the world would stop if they didn’t connect in that moment. “Then think about this. Every time I brake at 300, I’m thinking about coming back to you.”

“You better.”

“Always.”

The door shut behind him with a quiet click. He was still damp from the podium, shirt half untucked, champagne drying against his skin. It had taken forever to leave the circuit, media, debriefs, a hundred hands to shake. But this, this was what he’d wanted the entire time.

She was sitting on the bed, knees drawn up, one of his hoodies swallowing her frame. She looked at him like he was both ridiculous and beautiful, the way someone does when they’ve watched you chase something impossible and actually catch it.

He dropped his bag on the floor and crossed to her without saying a word.

Their hug wasn’t dramatic. No sweeping gestures or declarations. Just arms tightening around each other until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck. He closed his eyes.

“You did it,” she whispered eventually, her voice muffled.

“Yeah.” His voice cracked a little, surprising even himself. “I did.”

“You okay?”

“I don’t know yet.”

They lay back slowly, limbs tangled, the room dim around them. He exhaled, one hand resting on her hip, thumb moving in small circles like he needed to keep touching her to remember it was real.

“It didn’t hit me until I saw you in the crowd,” he said after a while.

“What didn’t?”

“That I’d actually won.”

She smiled against his chest. “So I’m the confirmation of reality?”

“You always are.”

They didn’t talk much after that. He buried his face in her hair, still smelling like sweat and podium champagne. She hummed softly, some melody he couldn’t name, and their legs twisted together under the sheets, warm and quiet and full.

Later, when she was nearly asleep, she murmured, “You looked calm up there.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

“But I am now.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

He stayed like that for a long time, holding her like the trophy was just a formality, and this was the only victory that really mattered.

Between races, in the sleek quiet of their apartment in Monaco, he didn’t need to speak in laps or strategy. Here, he was stripped of the helmet, the overalls, the persona. Just Oscar.

She was curled on the sofa, reading a paperback, one of those tragic love stories she claimed she didn’t like but always read twice. Oscar was supposed to be reviewing data. The iPad lay forgotten on the table, his head resting in her lap instead. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his curls, and each touch slowed his heartbeat until he felt like he could drift into sleep just to the rhythm of her breathing.

“You’re supposed to be working,” she said, not looking away from the book.

“I am. I'm working on not losing my mind over you.”

“That’s terrible,” she laughed, flicking his ear gently.

“I know. I'm better on track.”

“Debatable.”

He opened one eye, grinning up at her. “If I win next week in Baku, it’ll be because of this exact moment.”

“What, my lap therapy?”

“Exactly. You’re the secret weapon.”

After crossing the line first in Baku, she met him behind the hospitality unit, arms crossed like she hadn’t predicted it already.

“I told you,” he said, pressing a hand against the small of her back to draw her closer. “Therapy.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

But he already had. He was used to the way she made his pre-race nerves vanish with a simple touch. Used to how she wore his team hoodie like it was stitched from a part of him. Used to waking up beside her on Sunday mornings and pretending that the day’s risk didn’t weigh heavy in the air, just so she wouldn’t worry.

He was used to loving her so hard it made his chest ache.

────⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡ ────

Word count: 1.1k

[spxllcxstxr]

Being in an Established Relationship with Jayce and Viktor • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: I am desperate for more Jayce x Viktor x Reader content! Would I be able to request headcanons for what an established relationship with them would be like?? 🥺 -- @spatialwave

Warnings: gn!reader, first time writing arcane and jayvik so I hope it's all good!!

A.N: Andy (@spatialwave) has inspired me so much so PLEASE go read their beautiful writing! You need to understand I got this request LAST NIGHT, I just had to bang it out I was writing like a FIEND. I loved writing this so much, I hope to write more in the future!! Hope you enjoy!

•

Being in a relationship with Jayce and Viktor is like being a part of an old married couple that simultaneously bickers all the time and is just falling in love all over again every day

Jayce is like a ray of sunshine on a summer afternoon

He's clingy--but not overwhelmingly so. Jayce just has to have some sort of body part on either of you at all times (except in the lab unless he's feeling especially in love that day)

He loves putting his arms around your waist, chest pressed up against your back and lips ghosting over your neck. Jayce is a bit more subtle with Viktor, since your other partner prefers smaller touches, so their fingers are always tangled together. Some days Jayce will even sneak his hand into Vik's back pocket, making the slimmer boy light up red from the neck up

Jayce is also the type of boyfriend that will always have you two on his mind. He picks a flower from someone's garden to give it to you because "the vibrancy of its color reminded me of your eyes," or buys a little knick knack for Viktor because "I thought you would find it hilariously stupid" (Viktor will put it on his already cluttered desk at the lab because Jayce was right, it is stupidly funny)

Jayce will always get an A for effort because even if he can't remember how you like your coffee or tea, it's the thought that counts

Has bigass puppy dog eyes and he fucking knows how to use them against you two

All he has to do is look between you and Vik with those golden eyes are you're both putty in his hands

Speaking of being putty in hands, Jayce is the cuddler of the relationship

Which is good because he is also the space heater of the relationship too

Will basically have Viktor curled up on one side and you on the other. His face will be buried in Viktor's hair, placing sleepy kissed on his scalp. His fingers will rub circles on the small of your back. Jayce is the best pillow and blanket in all of Piltover AND Zaun

Viktor, on the other hand, is like the moon at midnight

He loves the both of you in a slightly different way than Jayce

While Jayce is more touchy and exuberant with his love, Vik is certainly more subtle, though that doesn't mean he loves you two any less

He is actually exceptionally smitten with you and Jayce. It's like his walls come crashing down whenever you two are with him. He could come back from having a disagreement about a project with Heimer, with his jaw clenched and brows furrowed, and then he'll spot you and Jayce in your shared apartment and it all melts away

Viktor isn't carrying the world on his shoulders with his partners around him. He knows that you guys will lift the hefty weight from his shoulders

While Viktor isn't as touchy ad you or Jayce, he shows his presence in other ways.

Viktor will always have at least one eye on you at all times. It's not that he doesn't trust you two (on the contrary, you two are the only people he trusts with his life), he just needs to know his lovers are ok

Jayce could be tinkering with something in the lab and 50% of Viktor's attention will be on him. Making sure he doesn't shock himself or mix the wrong chemicals together. And if that does ever happen, Viktor drops everything to help him. He masks his worry with wit, but the mask is transparent for you and Jayce

Viktor is also the one with the extreme attention to detail. Your coffee or tea is always right and always the right temperature in the morning. A scarf is always hanging on the coat rack near the front door on chilly days for you. Puts a bookmark in the book you're reading when you unexpectedly fall asleep reading on the couch

He is so big on being a gentleman. Will open doors for you two, pull out seats during a nice dinner. Also is the type to lift up your hand so he can kiss your knuckles (he knows this drives you wild and he struggles to hide a smirk at your heated face)

The three of you are witty and biting and funny in your own ways, quips are basically thrown around every hour of the day. The day isn't complete without someone rolling their eyes. Teasing knows no bounds--the apartment, the lab, a fancy dinner, in front of councilmen and women--doesn't matter

Every day you feel lucky to have these two as your partners, you really hit the jackpot with them. They're caring and attentive and loving in ways no one else is

And they feel the exact same way

•

[byshens]

barges in how about reader purposely riling riki the whole day (teasing him by only wearing his clothes, lingering touches etc) & riki has to control himself, only for him to snap when he reached home after practice 🤤🤤

go wild i guess 😛

omgee …. i have THE ni-ki writer in my ask box, im shaking rn !!!! hi pretty hye <3 this is so yummies, can i kiss ur brain >< ignore any typos

cw 𐐪𐑂 est. relationship, unprotected slight rough sex, creampie, teasing, previous orgasms (?), fingering, smaller reader ! 1,689

riki was calm.

he was always calm. he never showed any signs of weakness around you, nothing you did ever seemed to break his walls down and just make him have his way with you.

until you wore his clothes.

with your boyfriend being as tall as a building, his clothes looked extra big on you when you had them on. his shirts making their way down to your thighs, his shorts looking almost like pants if we’re honest. his pajamas sucking you in as if you were going to disappear in them.

most boyfriends would find it cute. seeing their girlfriends all cudddled up in their own clothes, but riki.. didn’t. something about how you looked in his clothes switched in him, he couldnt handle seeing you wear them.

and with knowing his lover, he knew that you didnt wear anything underneath them. bare tits and pussy out, rubbing along the cloth of his shirts and shorts—sometimes even just his shirt.

and today, riki was focused on practicing. he’d be in and out of the house trying to prepare with the rest of the group but on one of the stops, he noticed.

he noticed how you were laying on your stomach on the bed, your legs up in the air and swinging, but most importantly—he noticed you were naked under his shirt. then he noticed the smell of sex, and how you were softly panting, trying to look like nothing had happened.

but riki knew. he noticed the soft and little wet spot that was next to you, that you had ‘failed’ to cover. he noticed your pretty and flushed cheeks that tinted pink, his mind went blank.

you had just came wearing his shirt.

his dick twitched, but a sudden buzz noise on his phone took his attention away. shuffling annoyedly to grab it and see who texted you turned your attention onto him and focused. you saw how his chest was slowly starting to rise quicker, his heart was racing.

“god fucking dammit jay..” he muttered as he aggressively texted back. riki didnt seem to notice you get off the bed, circling around him in a slow walk, your fingers tracing along his opened arms. he only seemed to snap back to you once you gave his neck a kiss, standing on your tippy toes to reach it.

“baby, what’s the matter?” you asked softly, your tone innocent but nothing about this situation was innocent. ni-ki turned to look you in the eyes, his nose flaring up as his breathing got heavy.

you only smiled, your hands moving down his chest to his pants line, his eyes never leaving your own. the intense eye contact got you shivering, he looked pissed off and desperate. this was a new look for your lover, and you liked it. you enjoyed how helpless he seemed.

“i have to practice..” he whispered, his voice low and raspy. it sent butterflies right to your stomach, your legs instinctively squeezing shut. you only frowned, your fingers slowly sliding themselves into his tanktop, your nails gliding across his skin.

“again?” you asked and he nodded. you could tell he was craving you, that if the other members werent blowing up his phone he would have you pinned on the bed in a second.

“well.. work hard, baby!” you smiled, pulling yourself away from him and practically skipping out of the room and into the kitchen. riki let out a deep sigh, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened. he finally started to walk out of the room at the tenth buzz on his phone, grabbing his jacket and blowing a kiss your way before he left.

you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

it was about three hours until riki was finally able to come back home, finished with his days worth of training and he was pissed.

the whole time he was only thinking about you, about how your fingers must’ve been aching from the pleasure, how your chest must’ve been heaving hard as you moaned out his name and how your thighs trembled as you came, like they always did.

he opened the door and shut it quickly, throwing his belongings onto the couch as he walked towards the bedroom. his body freezing in place as he heard a moan—your moan—of his name.

“fuck.. riki..” was all he heard from you before he roughly opened the door to your shared bedroom, his eyes immediately noticing your legs spread wide with your fingers shoved deep inside your cunt, his shirts hem hanging just right above your left tit—your other hand cupping the breast.

“fuck! riki—you weren’t supposed to be back for another hour.” you jumped up from your position, genuinely surprised at how early he was but he didnt care. he didnt care about anything else but the scene that was in front of him.

“how long have you been touching yourself while wearing my clothes?” he asked, voice deep and serious. his body not moving from the door entrance. your cheeks flushed deeply, your legs closing around your hand as your finger still slowly continued to played with your clit.

“answer me.”

“a week..”

his breath hitched. “a week?” he repeated and when you nodded he couldnt hold back. he quickly made his way over to the bed and grabbed your ankles, pulling your body to the edge—your arms immediately grabbing onto his waist as he kissed you.

the kiss was rough and sloppy. he was biting down on your lower lip and desperately trying to shove his tongue into your mouth and you allowed him. your legs opened on either side of his own legs and his hand made his way between them. his long fingers taking no time before he pushed them into your cunt, pounding them into you.

you moaned loud against his lips, your hips jolting forward as your back arched, nails digging into his waist. he didnt slow down, he was angry at himself for never noticing. his fingers curled, hitting all the right spots inside you. you pulled away from the kiss to grip onto the bedsheets behind you with your mouth hanging open as he worked his fingers in you.

“fuck—fuck—riki, baby!” you moaned, thighs shaking and your toes curling. you felt breathless. this was a new version of riki you were seeing and you craved more of it. your head fell back as you let out loud whines, finally gasping out as you came on his fingers.

riki was stunned. he never was one to be anything but gentle with you. he loved the slow and intimate nature of how the both of you worked together, how the praises you shared felt loving, felt right. but this.. this was something changing inside riki.

“oh my god..” he whispered to himself, watching how your body twitched from the orgasm, how you fell on your back to catch your breath. but now, riki was rock hard. he was leaking in his pants, and he needed you around him—fast.

he quickly moved away to slide his pants off then his boxers, his cock springing up against his stomach as he locked eyes with you. you moved back to the middle of the bed to give him more space over you before opening your legs once again, riki’s hands gently caressing the skin on your thighs.

“you’re perfect, angel.” he mumbled, kissing along your neck. you couldnt help but blush at the praise, even as he’s angry, needy and craving you, he’s still giving you praise.

riki spit on the palm of his hand before rubbing his cock with it, using the makeshift lube before he positioned his tip at your cunt, taking no time in letting you adjust. he pushed himself roughly inside and held onto your hips, pulling out then fucking back in.

his pace was quick, sloppy and desperate. he couldnt stop himself from using your pussy, his hips slamming harshly against yours, your moans echoing through the room as well as his grunts.

“fucking hell—you’re still so tight.” he groaned, slamming his tip as deep as he could, watching your eyes roll back slightly and your hands trying to latch onto something to hold. he moved his hands from your hips to your own and intertwined your fingers before he pinned them above your head.

his face close to yours, you could feel his breath against your lips. you didnt want to look up at him, feeling as if you did, you’d cum on the spot. but riki wanted to you to look, his thrusts started to slow down but gained force, watching as your body jolted up with each thrust.

“look at me.” he demanded, your eyes fluttering open to lock with his own. you could see how dark his eyes have gotten with lust. he was lost in it, lost in your sounds and your warmth.

“fuck! riki, please!” you whined, lips brushing against his own. he only smirked and quickened his pace again, leaning down to kiss along your neck, biting down and sucking on the skin to leave a mark, his mark.

you could feel yourself close, the oversensitivity of your cunt finally catching up with you. riki was close too, he was chasing his high.

“please, riki.. cum inside me.” you moaned out loudly as you came, your thighs twitching on either side of him. your body trying to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure, but riki held you still.

riki couldnt hold it in anymore, shooting his warm load into you as he moaned out against your neck, rolling his hips to fill you up all the way, only pulling out when he felt like he did. he leaned on his ankles to watch his cum slip out of your pussy, leaning down to give your cunt a kiss, earning a whimper from you.

“so—keep wearing your clothes?” you giggled as riki gave your lips a gentle kiss, your fingers running themselves through his hair. he only rolled his eyes playfully, nodding his head.

“keep wearing my clothes.”

taglist　˃ᴗ˂ @mimiimiku @liumoonlight @qurest @soona-huh @unbel1ve4ble @katarinamae @lillotus17 @ilikekpop-c @fluviorss @starbyeol151 @kimuranirisi @tokkiuv @femaholicc @highway-143 @jakesblondera @hoonstqr @jaysguitarstring

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 .ᐟ — 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: It was supposed to be harmless. Just a quiet little night in your room, moaning into your pillow, pretending your fingers were his. And then he walked in.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, oral (f receiving), fingering, one-sided obsession (reader), reader caught masturbating, overstimulation, pussy worship, rough language, intense Bakugo, no actual sex, no aftercare, unprotected (oral)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k

You’d been around Bakugo Katsuki long enough to know better.

Long enough to learn his routines, his moods, the exact sharp edge in his voice that meant “leave me the fuck alone” versus the rare gravel that meant “I don’t really want you to.” You knew how he took his coffee. Knew he hated pickles. Knew he always washed his hands before touching his gear but somehow never managed to wear his gloves properly.

You’d been partnered with him for months now.

Close. Always close. Too close.

So of course, when you got assigned an undercover recon mission that required you to live in a one-bedroom apartment with him for a week, you smiled and nodded like it was no big deal.

Like you hadn’t been secretly, violently obsessed with him since the first time he said your name.

You tried to tell yourself you’d handle it.

That you were a professional. That it was just seven nights.

But that was before you saw him walk out of the shower, towel low on his hips, water dripping down his abs in lazy, smug little trails. Before you noticed the way his hair laid flatter when it was damp, all golden at the tips and sticking to his forehead. Before you saw him yawn and stretch, muscles rippling under his skin like he didn’t even know you were there.

That was when it got bad.

That was when you had to run—literally run—into the bathroom, slam the door, and fuck yourself hard and fast with your fingers, biting your fist to stay quiet while your hips jerked against the tile and you whispered his name like it was a fucking prayer.

It only got worse after that.

The apartment was small. Your room was smaller. The walls were thin. Every time he grunted from a workout, every time he swore under his breath in the kitchen, every time he brushed past you with heat radiating off his skin—you felt it in your throat.

And you never touched yourself when he was awake.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because you didn’t trust yourself not to moan his name like a goddamn idiot.

Tonight, though?

Tonight’s too much.

The tension is chewing at your bones. You said goodnight like always—smile too tight, voice too high—and retreated to your room like a coward.

But you can’t sleep.

The ache between your legs is sharp and constant, and every time you close your eyes, it’s him you see.

So you wait.

You listen.

No footsteps. No water running. No grumbling from the other side of the wall.

Safe.

You move fast—like muscle memory.

Tug your shirt off. Slip out of your shorts. Toss them to the floor as you climb onto the bed and sink into the pillows, legs spreading, knees folding up toward your chest. Your fingers find your heat instantly—already soaked, already needy—and you let out a quiet, desperate moan as you rub slow circles over your clit.

“Bakugo…” you whisper, breathless.

You don’t even realize you said it out loud.

Your mind is full of him—rough hands, sharp teeth, golden eyes dark with want. You imagine him grabbing your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the bed. You imagine him spitting on your pussy, telling you how messy you are. You imagine his fingers inside you—thick, fast, perfect.

You dip two of your own in—just barely—and whimper at the stretch.

Your hips roll. You pant softly. Your fingers work your clit again, slick and messy, pussy glistening in the warm lamplight. You’re already close. Already pulsing.

So caught up in your own filthy thoughts that you don’t hear the knock.

Don’t hear the soft “Y/n?” just outside the door.

Don’t hear the creak of the knob turning.

Until it’s too late.

The door opens.

And Bakugo fucking freezes.

You don’t have time to cover yourself.

Can’t even speak.

Because you’re on your back, legs spread wide, pussy facing the fucking door, fingers halfway inside, slick running down your thighs. And he sees everything.

His eyes lock on your cunt first.

Wide. Wild. Disbelieving.

And for one horrible second, time stops.

You’re still. He’s still.

Then—

He moves.

Fast.

Too fast.

You don’t register it—don’t understand how someone that big moves that quietly, but suddenly he’s there, at the foot of your bed, kneeling, grabbing your thighs and yanking you down until your ass is at the edge of the mattress and your knees are over his shoulders.

You barely manage a gasp.

“Bakugo—!”

But you don’t get to finish the sentence.

Because his mouth is on you.

Hot.

Wet.

Filthy.

He groans like he’s been starving for it. Like the taste of your pussy is something he’s been imagining for weeks, months, years.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he growls against your cunt. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

Your head falls back, a high, broken moan spilling from your lips as his tongue drags through your folds, slow and deep. He licks like he’s savoring it—like he’s trying to commit your taste to memory. His grip on your thighs is bruising, holding you wide open, holding you still.

You’re shaking.

You’re gone.

“Bakugo, fuck—!”

“Don’t say my name like that,” he snaps. “Not unless you want me to come in my pants like a fuckin’ rookie.”

And then he dives back in.

Tongue working your clit with maddening pressure. Mouth hot and open and desperate. He’s groaning against your pussy, rutting into the mattress, feasting on you like you’re the last goddamn thing he’ll ever taste.

And when he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them just right?

You scream.

Your back arches off the bed, hands flying to the sheets, the wall, anything, trying to ground yourself. But you can’t. He’s dragging you under. His fingers are thick and deep and curling exactly right, pressing against the spot that makes your toes curl and your thighs twitch—and his mouth—

Fuck.

His mouth doesn’t let up. His tongue is flicking fast over your clit, lips locked around it like he owns it, like it was made for him. Every suck sends electricity down your spine. Every moan he lets out against your soaked cunt vibrates through your whole body.

And he’s not stopping.

Not to talk.

Not to breathe.

Not even to look at you.

Like he doesn’t need anything except the taste of your pussy.

You try to speak—try to say his name, to tell him you’re going to come—but it breaks in your throat, comes out a wrecked little gasp as your hips buck helplessly into his face.

He growls.

Low.

Hungry.

His arm flings across your stomach, pinning you to the bed like he knows you’re about to squirm away.

“Don’t you fucking run from me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, face soaked, lips brushing your clit before he sucks hard again. “You wanted this, right? You’re gonna take it.”

Your vision blurs.

He speeds up. Fingers thrusting faster, wetter, his palm slapping against your cunt with every stroke. His tongue is relentless now, licking circles, tight and fast and perfect.

And it builds.

Fast.

Too fast.

You grab at his hair, twisting your fingers in the strands, your thighs threatening to close—but he holds them open, shoulders locked, growling against your pussy like a fucking animal.

“I—Bakugo—Katsuki—”

That does it.

You cry out, loud and desperate, hips jerking as your orgasm hits hard, exploding through your core like a live wire. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, clenching, soaking his hand, and he groans like he’s getting off on it—like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.

He doesn’t stop.

Even as you’re sobbing his name.

Even as your thighs shake.

Even as you push at his shoulders, overwhelmed and soaked and wrecked.

“Please—fuck—too much—”

He lifts his head slightly. His mouth is shiny with your slick. His eyes are wild.

“You’re not done.”

You don’t even get a chance to beg.

Because his tongue is back on your clit before the words can leave your mouth—faster this time. Messier. His fingers curl again and you shriek, hips twitching, tears sliding down your cheeks as your body lights up all over again.

“You taste like fuckin’ candy,” he groans. “You think I’m gonna stop with one?”

You sob—head tipping back, mouth open, throat raw.

“Gonna eat this pussy until you pass out.”

[loveanddeepyearning]

The Lads Boys' Favorite Positions

A look into my thoughts on how each LI likes to get freaky with you 😝 3.4k words. ~ 600 words per LI (got a little carried away on some). Afab reader, 18+ MDNI, Sexually mature content under the cut. Filthy, but loving <3

Xavier: 

Doggy, Face Sitting 

Man loves backshots, we know. This way he can stare at your gorgeous back while he holds you down and absolutely rails you. He's very dominant and needs you beneath him, this position satisfies that urge to pin you down and claim you in the primal way he desires. Oh and not just in the bed, he's shoving you against windows, on the couch, pretty much anywhere he can take you. Xavier is possessive and if there is a miniscule chance someone might see, he's taking it (and you) with the curtains open.

I will add, the guy is a munch heh. He's dropping down like a man possessed, with your ass still in the air and your legs shaking, just for a taste. Then laying down so he can pull you onto his face and devour you. Once he starts he won't leave you alone until you're begging him to stop.

Wet sounds of his cock driving deep into your folds echo throughout the entire apartment, your desperate moans muffled by the throw pillows on the sofa. Xavier’s large, calloused hands hold your hips in a deep and punishing arch, yanking you back to meet each harsh thrust. The way he so easily cages your smaller form beneath him rips a groan from low in his throat, your complete submission spurring him to practically pound you into the cushions. In this position he drinks in the sight of your bare form, gorgeous back on full display and pretty pussy taking his cock so well, he loses himself in how wet you are, how perfect it feels to show you who owns that cunt of yours. “You like that, baby?” Wanton moans of his name and the addictive way your pussy clenches around his swollen and sensitive cock has him angling your pelvis to take him deeper. Walls fluttering and squeezing so perfectly, you fall apart with a cry, milking his dick as he finally cums deep inside your folds.

With a whine you attempt to squeeze your thighs shut, it’s all too much as overstimulation washes over your center in waves and you squirm against Xavier’s bruising grip on your hips. “No, no, no. Don’t run away, angel.” Growling, he practically chases you, holding you steady as he repeatedly stuffs you full of his sensitive length. Finally satiated after fucking his release further into your pulsing entrance, he slowly pulls back, eyes fixated on the way his pearly white essence drips from your gaping cunt. Your soft cries and whimpers of his name fade away as he gawks at the mixture of fluids pooling by your pretty little clit, the urge to taste cutting through every logical thought. Hands flying to the pillows, you hold on for dear life as slender fingers spread through your swollen and abused folds, aiding the cum dripping down your thighs. Crying out, you can’t help but rock your hips back when you feel his tongue circle your tender clit, heady moans of your name vibrating against your swollen pussy. 

“Xavi, I can’t take any more.” Tears pool in your eyes, pleasure slowly overtaking the sensitivity as he lays beneath your grinding hips. Pressing your center to his lips, he groans at the taste, lapping at your dripping entrance like a starved man. 

Sucking and nipping at your clit, he uses his tongue to claim the last of the cum he stuffed inside your intoxicating walls, moaning at the sweetness of your combined releases. “One more, angel. Right now I need you to cum on my tongue.”      

Zayne: 

Spooning, Missionary 

He likes the classics. Missionary is simple and intimate but provides great eye contact. In this position he has a wonderful view of you beneath him, and he will worship you like the goddess you are. Plus I will die on the hill that he is the best with his fingers (surgeon) and this allows him access to between your thighs. The man loves to kiss, and this way he can lay on (in) you with his fingers in your hair and kiss you until you're both gasping for breath.

Spooning also allows for him to pull on your hair to guide your lips to his, (and easy access for fingers lolol). Plus he's a shy boy and sometimes he can't do eye contact. With your back to his chest, he would whisper soft praises in his raspy morning voice, all but whimpering in your ear. And he's so strong, you don't have to worry about a thing, he's positioning you with ease, his muscles aren't just for show.

Warm, steady fingers hook in the hem of your panties, large palms slowly running down the length of your thighs as he frees your aching cunt. Grasping a leg in his strong hold, he gently spreads you, hooking your calf over his hip to keep you exposed to his ministrations. You can’t help the way your back arches into his chest, soft moans escaping your lips as you squirm on your side, his fingertips ghosting over your entrance to assess the wetness of your needy center. Middle finger sliding up the length of your slit, he rubs at your inner walls as you whimper and whine beautifully for him, hips grinding back into his erect morning wood. 

“Zayne, please.” 

A raspy chuckle tickles your ear and soft lips pepper kisses to your exposed neck, fingers gathering your slick to rub circles on your swollen clit. “Patience, My Love. Let me take care of you.” You love the lewd praises and promises he whispers in your ear, a striking contrast to his usually cold and aloof demeanor. Sliding that middle finger into your tight cunt, he groans at the way you practically milk his digit, almost unwilling to let him go once he presses past your heavenly entrance. “So fucking tight. I don’t want to hurt you, so let me stretch this pretty pussy open for you.” 

Grinding your hips into his palm, you lose yourself in his touch, years of schooling and occupational training have honed his skills with those fingers, and you melt into his steady hands as he works you open with care. “Brilliant. Gorgeous. Powerful.” Gentle praises hum against the shell of your ear, whispered against the quiet morning air as if he was afraid to shatter the intimate atmosphere. With a gasp, you squirm and his index finger easily joins his middle, your cunt practically dripping as you greedily suck him in. “Just a little more, baby. You can take another, right?”

God, you are so needy, your clit practically throbbing with the rapid pound of your heart, and you squirm in his hold, needing him to give in and finally fuck you. “Yes, yes. Please Zayne, I need you so bad.” Practically sobbing at this point, you cry out as his ring finger joins the others, your pussy clenching tightly at the intrusion. Chuckling quietly, he nips at your ear, his ego swelling with each needy whine and beg for him to put it in, his cock pulsing against the soft fabric of his boxers.

He knew you were close from the way you squeezed him, hips practically riding his fingers as you chased that high, so drunk on the pleasure your eyelids flutter shut. Tangling the fingers of his other hand in your hair, he turns your head to connect your lips in a passionate, claiming kiss. “Mmmh Zayne, I’m gonna-” 

Approaching the high you so desperately crave, his soaked fingers slip from your cunt, soothing your momentary whines while freeing his swollen cock to sheathe himself in your sensitive walls. The sudden intrusion has you gripping the sheets and writhing, a dizzying orgasm erupting as his thick girth rubs you so right, it has you seeing stars. Whining, you grind back against him, so lost in the feel of him filling you so perfectly, you almost miss the hitch in his breath, the needy whimpers as his hips set a desperate pace. Overstimulation quickly takes over, your spent body writhing in his hold as he continues to pound your abused pussy, praises falling from his lips as he begs you to let him fuck you a little longer. As the sensitivity gives way to pleasure, you lose yourself in his cries of your name and the way he pumps you full of his hot cum, praising his “good girl” for just how well you take him every single time.    

Rafayel:

Reverse cowgirl, In front of a mirror 

Listen: he likes to watch and make you watch when you get freaky. He is an artist, and watching the way your bodies connect and the lewd way they move together really drives him crazy. Sitting on the floor with your back against his chest, he would bounce you on his lap while forcing you to look, his fingers holding your chin, whispering absolutely filthy praises in your ear.

You're his one and only muse, and the only one he'd whimper and moan so shamelessly for, his composure slipping after watching you for so long. His ears are bright red and his cheeks are such a pretty pink, Raf always flushes so beautifully for you. (Also, fingering you in front of a mirror AHHHHH). I also will say that he is a mermaid and his stroke game must be god tier (hehe).  

Vulgar squelches echo in the bedroom, your thighs struggling to keep a steady pace after what feels like hours of desperate grinding. “Eyes forward, baby girl.” A gentle, yet firm pressure on your jaw brings your eyes back to the obscene reflection of your swollen and sensitive cunt squeezing his cock so deliciously. Wetness slips from your poor hole, a mixture of your arousal, and who knew how many rounds of cum he had so generously filled you with. Greedy digits slide through the slick, his fingers brushing through your folds to thoroughly lubricate your thrumming clit. 

“See how deep I am?” As if transfixed, you watch his cock slide deeper, your pussy stretching to accommodate the length. Oh. You watch the way he fills your pulsing walls, splitting you open with the meeting of your hips before slowly sliding out and thrusting until he fills you once more. 

With your back to his chest, his free hand pinches your nipple to coax out those pretty whimpers he desperately craves, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the sensitive nub in soothing circles. Eyes flickering up, your body runs hot, flushing under the heat of his gaze as he watches the way you clench around him, walls squeezing him so tight with oversensitivity. 

“Feels so good, Raf.” Moaning, you bounce down on his cock, noting the deep flush dusting his cheeks and ears that appeared when he lost himself in the pleasure like this. 

“Hng, you take my cock so well, cutie. Keep bouncing on it, just like that.” Guiding your hips, his lips ghost over your neck, nose teasing the hammering pulse point before his teeth nip at your jaw. Digging your knees into the pillows he provided for comfort, you mustered the last of your strength to take him deeper, grinding his cock against your walls in all the right spots. “O-Oh, please don’t stop.” 

Riding him faster, he twitches inside of you, his moans growing breathy and higher in pitch as he nips at your earlobe. “Please let me cum inside. Fuck, cutie, I need to cum in your pretty pussy again. Please, hnng.” 

Reaching behind your head, you tug on his violet locks, bringing his pussy drunk gaze to meet your own in the full-length mirror. Irises dark, he devours you with a predatory hunger, his pupils blown wide with lust. He’s gorgeous, all fucked out and desperate like this, and he’s all yours. “Need you to cum in me Raf, please baby.” 

With a whiny moan, his large palms grasp your hips, slamming into you until he chants your name like a prayer, holding you tight as he cums so hard he’s shaking against your back. Rubbing your clit just right, he works you through the throes of pleasure, ensuring you watch as he licks up your release from his dripping fingers. 

Sylus: 

Cowgirl, Mating Press 

He craves eye contact and the intimacy that comes with it, so his favorite positions are ones where he can stare into your eyes. Sylus is nothing, if not a lover boy, and he needs to watch every flicker of emotion in your eyes as he takes you to cloud nine. Cowgirl lets you control your own pleasure, which he loves, there's just something about watching you use him and take care of him that gets him off.

Ofc mating press is just intimate and deep. Plus he loves that he is so biG and can easily manhandle you into the position. Sylus is also a biter and this way he has easy access to your neck, chest, anywhere really. He's holding your legs over his shoulders with one hand, whimpering praises of how good you feel and how perfect you are as he stares deep into your eyes. He's so pathetically in love. 

Throwing your head back, your eyes slip closed from the sheer pleasure, his cock repeatedly bullying that spot that has you seeing stars. Moaning out his name, you arch your back and he slides deeper, the head of his cock poking at your cervix with each thrust and your nails dig into his shoulders for purchase. Gentle fingers cradle your face before slipping to the back of your head to direct your gaze to his own. “Look at me, Sweetie. I need to see your eyes.” 

Something warm and longing pools in his red stare, raking over your quivering form to capture your gaze. Gripping your thighs, he slowly, yet purposefully folds your much smaller form, resting your legs over his shoulder to somehow slide even deeper into your welcoming cunt. Capturing your lips in a searing kiss, he pulls back to brush the messy strands of hair from your eyes, his forehead pressing to your temple to watch the flecks of color swirl in your eyes as he slowly thrusts deep inside your fluttering walls. “S-Sylus.” You try to throw your head back again and close your eyes, but he holds firm, caging you under his rippling muscles to keep your cockdrunk gaze on his own. 

“Fuck, baby. You're taking me so well. So perfect.” Looking down briefly, his breath catches as he watches how easily he slides into your dripping folds, his length glistening with your juices each time he pulls back to prepare for the next thrust. Fingers meeting your throbbing clit, he rubs in tight, firm circles and you cry out in utter ecstasy, eyes clouding with overwhelming love and desire. Losing himself in the rush of passion, he quickly dips his head to your neck, teeth sinking into the dampened skin at the curve of your shoulder, the soft flesh beneath your ear, anywhere his greedy canines find purchase.

With each heave of your chest and flicker of emotion in your gaze, he holds your legs firm over his shoulder and drives further into your soaked cunt, his release approaching faster than anticipated. No matter how hard he tries to hold himself back, to worship your perfect body and give you the pleasure you deserve, your pretty pussy clenches just right and he finds himself nearing a mind- numbing release. A low groan falls from his lips, pressing closer to push himself deeper, his eyes so full of love that you can’t help but blush. “Just like that, kitten. Cum for me, pretty girl.” With a final circle of his fingers, you fall apart on his cock, squeezing him so right, he follows suit. Thrusting each spurt of his warm and claiming cum into your perfect center, he lustfully watches the way your eyes darken with release, eyelashes fluttering in a struggle to keep your eyes open, to keep them trained on him just the way he likes it. Endless praises fall from his honeyed tongue, after all, how could they not when you’re always so perfect for him?

Caleb: 

Full Nelson, Against the wall or counter, Headlock

Essentially he loves any position that allows him to utilize his strength on you. That way he can pin you down (maybe in a headlock...heh) and ravage you while moaning nasty little things into your ear. Those gorgeous biceps are so pretty and solid when they flex, picking you up to support you against the counter or wall. And even if they weren't capable of pinning you against every surface in the house, his evol has you covered. 

Anywhere he takes you, he's almost forcing you to make eye contact, whimpering and groaning kinda pathetically. If you were to tease him and withhold your touch, he might even cry, whining and begging for you like he's desperate (he is). He can't help it, he's fantasized about your touch for over a decade, and the real thing is better than anything he's ever dreamed of (king of yearning). 

Fingers digging into his shoulders, your breasts press against his solid chest, back arching further with each plap of his hips against your own. A warm palm cradles the back of your neck, protecting your head from each harsh thrust against the living room wall. Digging your back into the cool sheetrock, you rut against his solid cock, imitating the motion of his hips to draw him even deeper inside you. Brow furrowing with a needy whine, he watches the way you swallow his entire length each time, sucking him so far into the intimate massage of your dripping walls, he isn’t sure he can last much longer. 

Caleb is a vision like this, his honeyed skin so smooth to the touch, every muscle defined and rippling in the soft light that kissed his beautiful features. What you love the most, however, are the gorgeous biceps caging you between the solid lines of his body and the harsh wall of his apartment in Skyhaven, so thick and firm, and wrapped completely around your burning form. Fuck, you needed this. 

“Tell me you love it when I fuck you like this.” Violet irises capture your own, pupils wide with love and lust, his grip on the back of your head tightening to prevent your gaze from wandering. 

Tugging on the dark brown locks at the nape of his neck, you moan loudly at a particularly deep thrust. Having known him so long, you deduct the hidden meaning from his lustful words, his desperation for reassurance that you need him just as badly as he needs you. “Caleb,” Whimpering his name, you grip at his arms and unconsciously dig your nails into the muscular flesh, “love this, love you. Your cock feels so good, mmph.” 

Squealing, your hands wind around his neck as he carries you to the couch, continuing to bounce you on his dick with each step. Supporting you with his arms alone, he drives deep into your pussy, a large hand holding your ass while the other wraps around your waist to hold you secure. Greedily nipping at your lips, he seats himself on the cushions, effortlessly manhandling you into a position that promises to further stretch your pretty pussy on his large cock. With your back against his front, he forces your knees to your chest, holding your thighs to your breasts with a large hand as he sheathes himself once again in your abused and swollen walls. Setting a bruising pace against your poor cervix, his fingers wind up your body, a pretty bicep caging you against his heaving chest in a headlock. The way he bounces you on his lap, so pliant against his large form makes you clench uncontrollably, the forearm against your throat forcing your gaze to his own. Desperate whimpers and whines fill your ears, his thrusts growing harsher and more erratic as he nears his release, those eyes watching every single reaction, praising you lewdly as he feels you near your own end. “Cum with me, pip-squeak. Need you to cum on my cock.” 

With a shuddering gasp, you fall apart, hard, milking his cock while he bites his lip against a pathetic moan and cums inside you. Throwing your head back, you can’t stop your eyelids from slipping closed, too blissed out for the intimate eye contact he often begged you for. A harsh slap to your clit makes you yelp his name, eyes shooting open to catch his darkening gaze, eyebrow twitching with annoyance that you withheld your gorgeous gaze as you came. “That’s better. I’ll just have to make you cum again.”       

thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are very appreciated!!

[starmapz]

what you know - ch13: tribulations || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 16.2k.

❦ a/n ; it's heeeere!! so before everyone reads i just wanna give a small update. chapter 13 and 14 were written all at once and ch14 should be ready in about a week. they were originally intended to be one chapter, but 36k words felt unreasonable for a single chapter LOL, so i've split them in two. they do read somewhat as a part 1 and part 2, so the second part of the legal battle will be out next week. as well, please note that the legal details are heavily based off of a mix of canadian and australian laws and processes, so it may not match up with your local laws. with that out of the way, enjoy!

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The sound of your text chime has you cracking your eyes open before dawn even breaks. You hardly even recognize the sound, so accustomed to having your phone on vibrate. With a weak groan, you flip onto your side, peering at your phone.

It’s not even six in the morning yet, and you barely got home by midnight.

Your eyes slip down to the message previews, and you frown. Taking a moment to let your body adjust to being awake, you plop down on your mattress, draping your arm over your eyes. In hindsight, probably not the greatest idea as you jolt back awake when another text arrives.

Pulling your phone off the charger, you squint at the bright screen.

5:39 AM Kuna || yujis awake

5:39 AM Kuna || he keeps banging on their door but cho wont answer

5:52 AM Kuna || sorry

Dragging your hand over your face in an effort to wake up, you stare at the messages once more before typing your response.

5:54 AM You || Why are you sorry?

5:55 AM You || I’ll be there soon

His response comes fairly quickly in spite of the chaos you’re sure is taking place in his apartment.

5:59 AM Kuna || its early and shit

Pushing yourself out of bed to get ready, you find a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

6:01 AM You || I told you to text me, didn’t I?

6:02 AM Kuna || yeah

6:02 AM Kuna || thanks

That’s the last message you receive from him as you shower, put on a hardly noticeable amount of makeup, and throw on a comfy pink hoodie and leggings. If you could drive in a cocoon of blankets, you’d probably do that too, but you digress.

You’re standing in front of his door barely a half hour later, having gotten ready faster than ever in an effort to help. You’d definitely figured Yuji would sleep in longer, but Sukuna isn’t a particularly lucky man, so here you are before the sun has risen.

The look on his face as you open the door speaks to his luck as well. Defeat is emboldened across his features, etched into the dark circles under his eyes. A white V-neck that’s so thin you can make out his chest and shoulder tattoos beneath it hangs over his shoulders, while a pair of black sweatpants adorns his lower half. They hang so low on his hips that you can make out the band of his boxers, and lord knows you don’t need your mind going any further than that.

He may be attractive, but at the end of the day, you can’t let yourself get hurt again. Not like that.

“Hey,” he grunts tiredly, swinging the door open as the sound of Yuji sobbing fills your ears.

Shooting him a sympathetic look, you follow him inside without a word, where he leads you to Yuji. The boy is slumped against the door to his and Choso’s room, tears and snot trailing down his face as he sobs and hiccups, calling out his brother’s name between wails. Sukuna clearly tried to calm him down, based on the blanket tucked around the little boy and the plush clutched in his hands, as well as a pile of tissues that surrounds him.

Your heart drops at the sight of the little boy who holds such a dear place in your heart so devastated as he cries out for Choso. You want nothing more than to hold both kids close and let them know everything will be alright.

With his eyes shut tight, the little boy hasn’t spotted you yet.

“How long has he been crying?” You whisper to Sukuna, trying to figure out the best way to work through the situation.

Sukuna casts a glance at his phone in his pocket. “Since five.” Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he sighs. “Don’t wanna pick the lock n’ force Cho out if I don’t gotta,” he shrugs.

In all honesty, you’re a bit shocked at how strangely calm he is handling the situation, as well as how reasonable he’s being. You can’t be sure what exactly it is that’s dulling his sharper edges, between the dejection in his tone, how long this has been going on, or the weariness plaguing every movement he makes. On the other hand, it’s those same reasons that have you worried for him as signs of life seem to drain from his eyes more and more each time you see him as of late.

You spend one more moment examining Sukuna before turning your attention to Yuji.

Leaning down in front of him, you finally gain his attention. His sobs turn to sniffles for a moment as he peers at you with a lidded expression, having completely exhausted himself already. He whispers your name questioningly between gasps as though he doesn’t quite believe it’s you, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“Hey sweetheart,” you greet him with a soft smile. Before you can even begin comforting him, in a flurry of blankets and arms, he’s clinging to your leg, gripping you with as much force as he can manage. With a sad smile, you hug him as best as you can with him stuck to your leg like glue.

“I- m-missed-” he sobs, gasping to catch his breath, “you.”

“I missed you too, Yu.” Your voice is tight as you rub his back gently, blinking in your best effort to keep yourself from crying at the sight of the sweet boy hugging you with all his might.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on, honey?”

He backs up an inch, wiping his face again with his hands. With a hiccup, he barely manages to get out a very broken explanation of what’s going on. “Cho-” a sniffle, “won’t-” a broken sob, “let me innnnnnn,” he bawls, his words devolving into full sobs once more.

Settling on the floor in front of him cross-legged, you extend your arms, offering him a hug that you’re sure he needs. He clambers into your lap in a flurry of tears, burying his face into your shoulder.

Maybe a pale pink hoodie wasn’t your brightest choice of clothes all things considered, but that’s the least of your concerns.

Quietly hushing the little boy, you hug him tightly and rub his back. His entire body shakes violently in your arms as he’s wracked with sobs, gasping for air between each one.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey.” Your voice is quiet and gentle, gradually soothing his sobs into quiet cries and gasps. Even as he begins to calm down in your arms, he doesn’t move, clinging to you like a lifeline.

Sukuna hasn’t moved either, frozen in place as he watches the way you effortlessly calm his brother down. He can only blink as he watches you, his mind moving too groggily, too slowly, to properly process just how well you understand Yuji. But really, it’s not just Yuji, is it? It’s Choso too, and even Sukuna himself.

Deep in thought, the tattooed man scowls to himself, as yet again he finds himself considering Uraume’s words. At least before the fight, you liked him, right? Do you still, now? Does this prove that? Does last night prove that?

His heart beats in his throat at the thought and he has to swallow to choke down the feeling, because it reminds him of a much bigger question he’s been avoiding.

Why is he chasing the answer like a damn bloodhound? Does he want you to like him?

His eyes trail the length of your back as he watches the way Yuji clings to you, his fingers buried in the fabric of your pink hoodie. Your shoulder is already stained in snot and tears, but he knows you don’t mind. You’re so painfully accommodating of his family that self-reproach constricts Sukuna’s chest and he finds himself unable to move. Unable to do anything but watch.

Time and time again, you’ve told him to reach out, that he should ask for help, even as recently as a few hours ago, and yet seeing you sitting on the floor before him doing something that he should be able to do himself sends guilt straight through his heart. With the full force of a fist, it hits his chest and knocks the breath straight from his lungs.

He knows he’s only one person, that they aren’t his kids and this whole situation has just been a case of winging it from the beginning, but this is the one thing he should be able to do as a brother.

Basking in his shame and frustration, he fixes you with a scowl that isn’t made for you. 

Why are you so selfless?

Why is he so selfish?

Why is he taking up all of your time when he has no right to ask for it?

Gritting his teeth, he scratches at his stubble-dotted jaw, finding the wherewithal to sit at your side on the floor.

You cast him a glance, surprise flickering in your eyes as he takes a seat beside you. His expression is more familiar, sitting somewhere on the spectrum of grumpiness, though you’re not sure where his sudden attitude came from. In this particular moment, that’s the least of your concerns.

Yuji shuffles back slowly to look at you with glossy eyes and puffy cheeks. “I- I-” He stammers between sniffles, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “I wanna see-” he hiccups, “- my brother,” though between all the tears and his sniffles, it comes out more like ‘bwother’. “Is he-” he sniffles, “is he mad at me?”

“No, sweetie,” you soothe, “I don’t think he’s mad.” You rub his back, leaning back to get a better look at him. His chest is heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, his eyes flickering every which way across your face as he tries to make sense of everything. Unfortunately he’s far too young and naive to figure out the bigger picture, which only makes everything more difficult. “I think your brother’s sad, Yu, just like you.”

He wipes his face again, a string of… saliva (?) sticking to his sleeve as he pulls back. “Sad? Why?”

You take a deep breath as you search for an answer that a five-year-old could understand. “Do you remember the person who came by to talk with Kuna yesterday?”

Yuji nods, hiccupping.

“Well, Choso didn’t like something they said.”

“Why not?”

You suppose you should have seen that coming. Children are always looking for answers where there are none.

“I don’t know yet, sweetheart. I’m gonna see if we can talk to him, okay?”

“Okayyy,” Yuji whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Why don’t you go sit with Kuna?”

Yuji stares at you for a moment as he contemplates your words before nodding, crawling off your lap in a bundle of the blanket he’s wrapped in. He grabs his plush tiger before slowly approaching his older brother.

Sukuna may not be able to provide the words his brother needs to hear, but he does still open his arms and let his brother cuddle into his chest. You shoot Sukuna a reassuring smile before pushing to your feet to knock on the door to the kids’ room. There’s no way Choso isn’t awake given Yuji’s wailing, and you’d wager a bet that he even heard everything you said just now.

Still, there’s no reply to your knock.

Turning back to Sukuna, you can see that Yuji is on the verge of tears once more and shoot him a reassuring smile before tilting your head to Sukuna. “Did Choso eat last night?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Dunno. I shoved some shit under the door but I didn’t hear him move.”

“Why don’t we make some breakfast and see if we can get him to come out for food and a talk? He’s gotta be hungry.”

Sukuna mulls over the option before nodding. “Y’want pancakes, Yu?”

“Yeah,” the boy sniffles, wiping his tears. “With lots ‘nd lots of syrup.”

Sukuna lets out something between a hum and a scoff, effortlessly setting his little brother on his feet and pushing up to his full height. “C’mon,” he urges, leading the way into the kitchen. You cast one last glance at Choso’s locked door before following Sukuna.

The brutish man begins gathering ingredients, setting them on the counter beside a large mixing bowl while Yuji grips the counter, just barely tall enough to see what Sukuna’s doing.

“Let’s get your hands washed,” you encourage Yuji, turning on the tap and lifting the little boy up so that he can reach the kitchen sink. Making sure he uses soap, you place him back down on the floor. He wipes his hands on his very messy hoodie, effectively negating anything the handwashing had done in the first place, but it’s not like you can get into his room to get him changed into something clean.

Sighing, you lead him to the table and lift him onto a chair. A bead lizard sits on the table in front of him, and he entertains himself with it for the time being.

Returning to Sukuna as he washes his hands, you follow suit, turning towards him to take the hand cloth from him.

“You’ve got a little-” you point at his shoulder, covered in stains from Yuji’s sobs.

Glancing down at his shirt, Sukuna grunts with a frown before evaluating your outfit. “We match,” he comments dryly, rolling his shoulder to emphasize the drying patches on your shoulders. “You need a new shirt?”

“Um-” you glance over at Yuji, before shaking your head. “No, I have a feeling these aren’t the last tears that’ll be on my hoodie,” you surmise with a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep light of a situation that clearly has the whole family worn to the bone, with nothing left to give.

Sukuna hums again, about to ask you to cut some bananas for the pancakes when Yuji turns towards you, weakly calling your name.

Turning your gaze to the little boy, you scoot a chair up next to him and give him your full attention. “What’s up, Yu?”

He sniffles, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Um- I made-” he pauses, holding the lizard he’d been playing with earlier up to you. “Made this for-” he stammers again, hiccupping, “-for you.”

Holding your hand out, you delicately take the bead lizard from him. One of its legs has four toes rather than three, and its tail is slightly lopsided, but it’s positively too cute.

“Um-” Yuji continues, his eyes dropping to his lap. “-but then you were-” as if the memory alone shakes him to his very core, his lower lip wobbles, parting with a sob. “-you were goooone,” he cries again, clinging to your side. It takes all of five seconds before he crawls off of his chair into your lap.

“Shhhh,” you soothe, smoothing his hair back off his forehead and rubbing his back. “I know honey, I’m sorry,” your throat is tight as he wails in your arms. “I’ve been busy with work and school, but I never stopped thinking about you, Cho, and Sukuna, you know that?” You tell him, leaning back in an effort to see his face. With puffy cheeks, he swallows a sob as he looks up at you. Holding your wrist out, you show him your bracelets, letting him fiddle with them. “See? I always had you with me.”

Sukuna’s spoon comes to a halt in the mixing bowl as he watches your interactions with Yuji. He damn-near drops the utensil too, fumbling with it until he can set it down. His heart doesn’t just flip or flutter as usual, no, it hammers in his chest when you utter something so sweet that it’s sure to cause him a cavity.

He lifts a hand up to his chest, the feeling of his heart beating erratically resounding through the tips of his fingers. His lips part as he stares down at the bowl in front of him, blinking at the half-mixed batter.

“‘M always with you,” Yuji repeats the sentiment in agreement with you between broken gasps and sobs, reaching up to fiddle with your friendship bracelets.

Sukuna can only watch the interaction from the corner of his eye as he struggles to run from something that he fears has been creeping up on him for a long time. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind sits a realization that he’s never once bothered with because it simply couldn’t be true. Now, though… His crimson eyes flicker towards you. Your features are soft as you smile for his little brother, giggling as the child gently tugs at the twine around your wrist.

A month. A full goddamn month you kept those on. You were resigned to never seeing Sukuna again and still, you kept them on. You never deleted his number. You kept him in your thoughts when your company had an open position. He knows you needed the help for your own gain, but he’s not foolish enough to think there’s no coincidence in the fact that you called him, let alone even thought about him.

He’d spent so long running that he’d never stopped to consider how he felt about all that.

His brow furrows as he turns his attention back to the batter, glowering as if it’s personally offended his whole bloodline. He doesn’t have the fucking time for this.

In an attempt to keep up his pace and continue running from his thoughts, he unsteadily grabs the spoon again and mixes the batter with a fervor that catches your attention as you cast him a questioning glance. He’s too busy scowling at the batter to notice, but you figure he’s simply stressed.

“Your big brother knows how to reach me if you kids ever need me, okay?”

You jolt at the sound of metal clattering behind you. Twisting in your seat, you catch a glance of Sukuna muttering curses to himself as he picks the spoon back up, his brow bunching up more intensely by the moment.

You make a mental note to ask him what’s up later, turning your attention back to the little boy on your lap as he slowly turns the twine tied around your wrist. His breathing begins to settle again, satisfied with your explanation as he explains the reasoning behind his color choices with the bead lizard. You listen intently, because if you don’t, his words sound more like hoarse mumbles, difficult to make out.

Yuji explains in great detail that he designed the lizard for you out of pink and purple beads, because those are the prettiest colors, just like you. You’re grateful in that moment that Yuji is too busy looking down at his creation and Sukuna is behind you, because tears finally do prick at the corners of your eyes. Yuji is positively precious and you can’t deny the fact that you adore him as though he’s your own family.

Maybe that makes things messy given your shaky connection to Sukuna, but you can be there if the kids need you, at the very least.

“Ready in two,” Sukuna mumbles behind you, barely audible.

“I’m gonna go talk to Choso, okay sweetie?” You gently let Yuji know as you set him back in his own chair. He nods, sniffling as he watches you head back towards his room.

Knocking on the door again, you wait to see if you get an answer, but there’s nothing. As far as you can tell, Choso isn’t even in the room.

“Cho?” You call gently, letting him know it’s you. “Please come have some breakfast. Kuna made you some pancakes.”

It’s deathly silent behind the door and you’re beginning to wonder if he’s somehow managed to run away, but that doesn’t seem feasible in an apartment. Not to mention that given what Choso’s upset about, you can’t imagine him leaving.

Trying again, you keep your tone gentle, but loud enough that you’re sure he can hear. “I’ve missed you, Choso. I’d love to see you,” you offer, but there’s not a sound to be heard. Frowning, you begin to wonder if picking the lock might be the only option. “Cho sweetheart, I’m worried about you. Remember when we talked about using words when you’re upset?”

From beneath the door, you just barely catch a hint of a shadow. Relief floods through you as you realize he’s there and listening to you.

Knowing that he can, in fact, hear you, you lower your voice to try to have a conversation more with him than the whole apartment. “It’s okay to need space, Cho, but it’s important to ask for it,” you explain. It’s moments like this that you can tell he’s learned a couple of bad habits from Sukuna. “Pushing everyone away when you’re upset isn’t good for you.”

The shadow beneath the door moves again.

“Do you want a hug, sweetheart?”

Click.

The door creaks open just enough to make out Choso’s face peeking through the gap. The room behind him is dark, the curtains drawn. He must have been laying in bed all night and morning.

You smile softly, pushing gently on the door to see if he’ll let you in. He hesitates for a moment before relenting, but the moment the gap is wide enough for Choso to slip through, he gingerly pads across the floor and hugs you.

Behind you, Sukuna and Yuji exchange a few words in the kitchen, followed by the sound of Sukuna’s footsteps behind you, but they stop a short distance away.

“I’m sorry,” Choso murmurs, silent tears trailing down his face as he hides his face in your hoodie.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” you soothe, holding him tightly. “I’ve got you.”

You don’t dare pull back first as he quietly shakes in your arms. He clearly needed this, but didn’t know how to seek comfort from Sukuna, and Yuji simply doesn’t understand.

Satisfied that Choso’s at least okay, Sukuna backs away to serve pancakes to Yuji, giving Choso whatever space he needs. Even if he’s guilty for entrusting this to you, he doesn’t have the luxury of being picky when it comes to his brothers’ well-being.

You can hear the clinking of forks and knives and occasional muttered conversation in the kitchen as the other two brothers eat breakfast. It takes a couple of minutes, but Choso’s breathing gradually evens out. With a final deep breath, he takes a small step back, his vision trained on the ground.

Smiling gently, you move his long hair from his face to see him better. He coughs into his elbow quietly, his voice hoarse as he speaks for the first time since last night, or perhaps even longer knowing the withdrawn child. “I thought you and Kuna weren’t friends anymore,” he murmurs, his voice cracking midway through his sentence as he wipes his tears.

“Why not?” You query, curious what Sukuna told him. Choso is far too smart for his own good if Sukuna didn’t say anything. Lying to the little boy about what happened isn’t your first choice, but you will if it helps his mental health.

He shrugs, though there’s clearly something on his mind.

“Everything’s okay,” you assure him, smiling. “What would make you feel better? Do you want breakfast, or do you wanna talk?”

“Can we-” he pauses, clearing his throat, “- can we talk?”

“Of course,” you assure him, turning to lead the way to the kitchen to talk with his brothers, but he stops you with a tug on your sleeve.

“Just you?”

Tilting your head sympathetically to his situation with his little brother and his horribly emotionally constipated older brother, you nod. He leads you back into his room, leaving the door open just a crack. You can hardly make out the floor with how dark the room is, hissing as you step on a toy dinosaur. It would be a triceratops you stepped on, wouldn’t it?

Shaking the horned dinosaur from your poor foot, you make your way to the window and crack it open. It’s still fairly early but dawn offers enough light that at least you aren’t stepping on the stegosaurus next, or the squished fruit snacks that Sukuna must have slid under the door.

Choso squints slightly as he sits on the edge of his bed. Taking a seat beside him, you’re able to finally get a good look at him. He’s still in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, so you can only assume he laid in bed all night and couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas. His hair is unkempt and oily, and his face speaks nothing more than utter defeat.

Though it doesn’t show much in Yuji’s personality (yet), it’s clear that Choso’s picked up a lot of Sukuna’s traits over the years. Unfortunately it seems that includes his tendency to shut others out and attempt to deal with everything on his own, which is just about the worst lesson he could have picked up from the eldest brother.

Choso kicks his foot out, his brow furrowed as he organizes his thoughts before speaking.

“Do you think Kuna can win?” He whispers hoarsely.

You can’t afford to hesitate as you reply. “Of course. He’s putting a lot of work into getting a good lawyer and putting together evidence.”

Choso nods, blinking down at his mismatched socks as he wiggles his toes in front of him. “I don’t get it,” he murmurs.

“Don’t get what?”

“Why she wants us.”

That’s a question you’re vastly unprepared for, and horribly devastated by. A child should never need to question their parent’s love. Is the right answer to comfort him and offer a reason she might want him, or to vilify her further when that’s clearly what Choso’s already thinking? Is there a right answer at all?

“I don’t have an answer for that, Choso,” you reply with painful honesty.

Choso’s brow furrows, scowling at the triceratops that nearly took you out. No wonder the poor kid locked himself away if his thoughts are plagued with wondering whether his mother even loves him.

And if she does love him, you’re sure he hopes she’ll let him go. No child deserves to handle this sort of pressure, or these sorts of thoughts. In the short time you’ve known Sukuna and subsequently his brothers, they’ve all been through a lifetime of hardship, and you can only imagine the things that would do to a twelve-year-old. He’s been forced to mature too quickly, and it’s apparent in the way that he struggles with the weight of that maturity that he doesn’t really know how to handle it.

Sukuna’s a good parental figure, at least where it matters, but he can’t teach either of his brothers how to handle something of this caliber when he can’t even handle it himself. He may have had a few extra years to grow accustomed to life, but he was still just a kid when he lost his dad. How was he meant to learn this lesson himself when no one was there to teach him either?

Choso’s eyes flit around the room in thought, but he doesn’t seem to know where to go with his thoughts or how to organize them.

“Do you want to talk about her?” You set the cards on the table, offering him the opportunity. You don’t want to push him into anything, but you hope he’ll heed your words about talking through his issues regardless. It seems to comfort him more than a hug, from what you’ve gathered.

The little boy is silent for a moment, rubbing one of his eyes with his knuckles. “Um- I don’t know what to talk about.”

“Anything,” you offer him a smile. “This is about you, Cho. I just want to help get your mind off of things.”

In the bleak darkness of the room as light very slowly begins to peek through the blinds, it becomes glaringly obvious just how much of a weight this little boy carries. It’s as though he thinks he has his own duty to uphold, one that he silently and without protest holds tight to his chest.

“I don’t remember her very much,” he croaks, clearing his throat. He kicks his feet a couple of times as he contemplates his words. “I remember playing board games with her and Dad.”

“What board games?” You query, keeping the conversation going.

Choso hums in thought. “Monopoly and Life,” he murmurs.

“Life is fun.” No comment on Monopoly.

Shrugging absently, Choso falls back into a steady silence. It’s hard to tell if he wants to stay on this subject at all given his curt replies, but between the raspy timbre of his voice and the fact that he seems to have repressed the memory of her, you can’t blame him.

“I- I really don’t remember her,” he whispers, shaking his head. He wasn’t that young when she left as far as you’d gathered that he shouldn’t be able to remember her at all, but the thought of him locking the memory away tightly feels painfully realistic. Maybe he’d even thrown away the key, given how distraught he is over the lawsuit. “She went on a business trip before Dad got sick, and- um- she never came back. Dad said she was making lots of money so we could be happy.”

Sukuna had never told you exactly what happened, just that she was gone the moment things got tough. She may have never been fond of Sukuna, but from what you can piece together, you can’t see why she wouldn’t like her own children. Still, you find yourself asking the same question as Choso previously had.

It can’t possibly be money that she wants the kids for. Sukuna’s made it pretty clear that the government aid doesn’t help enough to offset the cost of caring for kids, so it has to be out of love, right? Pettiness towards Sukuna maybe, but real love to be willing to take the kids back.

She sure has a funny way of showing her love, but you can’t possibly begin to imagine what else could bring this on.

Maybe she only ran overseas out of fear of losing her husband? It’s cowardly, but it’s the only explanation you can find in a situation where there’s no sense to be found.

Yet… didn’t Choso say she left before Jin got sick?

It doesn’t alleviate any of your doubts surrounding her motives.

“Did you talk to her on the phone?”

“Um- usually every week. When Dad did.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Really, what more can you say? There’s nothing easy about this situation, especially in the eyes of a child that’s been able to do nothing but sit back and watch as his life is decided for him.

When was the last time Choso really got to be a kid? Christmas?

Your heart drops at the mere thought.

“I miss Dad,” Choso mousily whispers, his shoulders dropping as a silent tear falls from his cheek, down the tip of his nose. He wipes another tear on his sleeve and yawns. You wonder if he slept at all last night in spite of being locked in his room. “Dad always knew what to do.”

That’s twice now that you’ve heard that same phrase from the trio of brothers. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the hole his departure left in their family.

“Dads are like that. They’re good with advice,” you agree, doing your best to keep yourself neutral, letting Choso come to you with the details he wants to share. The more he can get his thoughts in order on his own, the better off you think he’ll be.

“He always made soup whenever we felt bad.”

With a lopsided smile, you tilt your head to look at the little boy. “Is that where you got your cooking skills from?”

To your surprise, something glimmers in Choso’s eyes. A hint of life. A hint of more than the dull fog he’s been cocooned in. He shakes his head with a hummed ‘mh mh’. “It was just in a can.”

“There’s nothing better than a plain can of soup when you’re sick.”

Choso nods. “Yeah. Or when you just feel sad.”

“Huh, I guess soup is a cure-all,” you hum in an attempt at keeping the air lighthearted. Choso’s opening up bit by bit and the last thing you want is to bog down the flow of conversation.

Choso begins kicking his feet consistently, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed. “Kuna makes good soup, too.”

“From a can?” You query.

Choso shakes his head.

“From scratch?” Your brows raise. It’s not that Sukuna’s a bad chef by any means, he’s actually got the craft down. In fact, your reaction doesn’t come from surprise at all. Sukuna’s a great chef, and if he had the money for the ingredients and the time to cook, you don’t doubt that he would go the extra mile to take care of his brothers. He already does if he can.

Your reaction is purely from the realization that Choso’s love of cooking likely doesn’t come from Jin. It comes from Sukuna.

“Um- I think so. I mostly just put things in the pot.”

You find yourself smiling at the thought. Choso loves cooking because it’s how he bonds with his older brother. Just like he loves Pokemon because it’s how he bonds with his younger brother.

“Kuna’s a good chef, isn’t he?” You encourage him, willing a reaction. To your delight, he blinks a few times and nods.

“The best,” he whispers.

Your eyes flicker up at the sight of a shadow under the door. Wood creaks beneath heavy footsteps that slowly retreat, the shadow dissipating. 

“Well you know, your chef brother made you some pancakes,” you tell him softly, moving a hand to rub his back encouragingly. “They’ll be cold if you don’t eat soon.”

Choso looks up at you now, a series of emotions flooding his worn out eyes. Sadness, uncertainty, confusion, and fear all swirl within deep brown irises. It’s clear he’s still braving the mess that is his mind, but he’s wading within the emotions rather than pushing them down until there’s nothing left to feel but emptiness. You’d much prefer this to the blank stares you’ve been getting so often.

He finally nods, finding it in himself to hop off of his bed to his feet as he heads for the kitchen.

“Can you hit the light?” You ask before daring to move a muscle. There may be more light than before, but that stray stegosaurus that you know is in here somewhere is too daunting to ignore. With the light on, you avoid stepping on any horned beasts or stray lego and follow after him to the kitchen.

Yuji and Sukuna still look like the better part of a disaster, obvious tear trails covering Yuji’s face, while Sukuna leans against the kitchen counter cutting a banana so slowly you’d almost think he forgot what he was doing. Because he has, in fact, forgotten.

The sound of footsteps pulls the man from his trance as he turns to see Choso. Relief flickers through his eyes as he shoots you a look that says thank you.

As Sukuna finishes up what he’s doing, Yuji cries out for Choso, hopping down from his chair to barrel into Choso at full force. Nearly toppling over, the middle brother embraces Yuji with a hint of a smile. It’s heartwarming, despite the tense air that continues to hang over the family.

Yuji’s words tumble out of his mouth in a flurry as he hugs the brunette, tears trailing down his face again. Choso may be the one who hasn’t used his voice for the better part of two months, but Yuji’s words are somehow more hoarse. “I missed- y-you, Cho, please-” he sobs, catching his breath in a flurry of gasps. “- Don’t leave me,” he gasps.

Your own expression falters as you feel uncertainty tug at your own heart strings. There’s a lot to unpack within Yuji’s words as well, and while you know most of the situation they’re in goes over his head, he’s a smart kid, too. You can’t help but wonder if he’s handling everything worse than he lets on.

“‘M sorry, Yu,” Choso mumbles between Yuji’s pleads, toppling down onto the floor as his little brother squeezes him tighter.

Sukuna remains silent as he sets down three more plates at the small dining table, cutting through the quiet only to inform the three of you, though mostly you and Choso, of breakfast. “Come eat,” he mumbles just loud enough to be heard over Yuji’s cries.

Neither of the boys are paying Sukuna any mind as Yuji hugs his older brother.

You take a step towards Sukuna as he opens his mouth, likely to tell them again that breakfast is ready. “Give them a moment,” you whisper softly. You lean in close enough to keep those words between the adults, but your close presence is gone before he has the chance to appreciate it.

And Sukuna, he’s just not sure what he’s even meant to make of that thought. When has he ever needed to stop to appreciate you being close to him?

He supposes since he tore into you over something that seems so trivial now.

He swallows hard as he turns his attention to his little brothers. You kneel beside them, gently rubbing Yuji’s back as you talk to him with so much care that Sukuna’s chest tightens.

“Your brother just needed some time to be alone, right Choso?”

The little boy nods.

“In the future if you need space, you’ll talk to your brothers, right?”

“Right,” Choso hoarsely agrees.

Sukuna scratches at the back of his neck. His brother’s voice sounds foreign to him in a way that he can’t quite identify. The twelve-year-old’s never been all that chatty, and he’s been quieter than normal since Sukuna had explained the lawsuit to them, but this is likely the longest single period of time he’s gone without so much as moving. He almost sounds sick. He almost looks sick.

Is Sukuna that bad of a guardian?

He averts his gaze to the large window by the table, pushing his worries down into the plague of other doubts he harbors. He doesn’t have the luxury of worrying about that, not when his opposition is a mother who didn’t even answer a call coming from her deceased husband’s phone.

The kids deserved better, but Sukuna has to remind himself that you’re right. You’ve told him time and time again and he has to start listening to you. His brothers want to stay with him. They love him.

And he loves them, too.

His gaze flickers to you as you smile at the boys. Sympathy, care, and something akin to sadness all swirl within your eyes as you take a seat at the table. Sukuna takes a seat beside you, leaning on his elbow.

As the boys both make their way to their respective seats and begin cutting into their pancakes (or in Yuji’s case, picking up a whole pancake on his fork and taking a bite), Sukuna can only watch in relief. He can’t remember the last time Choso and Yuji both seemed okay, despite the lines of dried tears running down their faces. Letting out a breath, he shuts his eyes as the air around him seems to lighten and he feels like he can breathe again.

You watch from your peripherals as Sukuna relaxes and finds it in himself to eat. His pancakes are more dense than yours and likely filled with protein, probably to make up for the fact that you rarely see him eating lunch.

Breakfast is silent, but words don’t need to fill the space for the meal to surround you all with an unspoken warmth.

Yuji finishes first between the boys, kicking his feet (im)patiently as he waits for Choso to finish.

“Will you play with me, Cho?” He asks, the moment the middle brother’s fork hits the plate.

Gingerly nodding, the two boys begin to hop down from their seats.

“Go change your shirt first, Yu.”

He turns to face Sukuna. “Why? This one’s clean.”

Sukuna’s lip curls in disgust. “No, it’s not. Go change.” He casts a glance at Choso, who’s still in yesterday’s clothes as well. “You too, Cho.”

Choso glances down at his clothes and nods, following slowly after Yuji to their room.

With an exasperated huff, Sukuna runs a hand over his face, shoving his plate forward on the table. There’s too many things on his mind and you’re at the center of them all. Hell, even the familial shit that you shouldn’t be a part of, he somehow ties back to you.

About to offer you a shirt again, he opens his mouth, but you voice your thoughts first.

“I should head out. Shoko and I are studying today and I need to get a couple of things together and printed,” you explain, picking up your plate and getting to your feet. “And change my hoodie,” you mumble as an afterthought, one step ahead of Sukuna.

As you set the plate in the sink with a gentle clank, Sukuna taps his fingers on the table with a grimace. A part of him wonders if you’re lying, though he has no right to think you might be. The only reason he even finds himself doubting your words is because he wants you to stay, which he realizes isn’t fair given your tense relationship.

Casting aside his doubts, he slides his chair out and gets to his feet. He trails after you, standing a short distance away as you throw your coat on and stand at the door.

If ever there was a time that the scar in your friendship was visible, this is it. There’s an ugly rift that stands between you, and for all the clawing and biting that Sukuna’s tried to tear through it, you patch it back up each and every time.

It’s not fair.

He wants to believe that, anyway. Every fiber of his being wants to believe that sentiment.

But it is. And he needs to live with that. If this is all you ever are to him, a distant kindness that exists in a vacuum of space that lives between you, then he supposes he can deal with that. He sucks in a sharp breath, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Silence stretches between you after pulling on your boots. Sukuna’s scowl is aimed at the floor, unable to meet your gaze.

“The court date is next week, right?” You finally break the silence.

“Yeah. Thursday.”

“Do you have any more meetings before that? Will the kids be okay?”

Sukuna inhales. Long, and drawn out. “Yeah. Uh- the lawyers exchanged documents n’ shit last week n’ ordered a house study. It’s Tuesday.” He pauses, mulling over the process. “Then the court date.” Pulling a hand from his pocket, he scratches the back of his head, unable to meet your gaze. Choso won’t be fine, he knows that much, but he can’t bear the thought of taking up your time anymore. “Yeah, they’ll be fine,” he lies.

His response seems off given his lacking confidence and frustrated scowl, but he’s always been tough to read, so you give him the benefit of the doubt, but there’s still one thing you made a mental note of earlier. “What about you?”

Something unrecognizable flickers within those cherry irises before he nods. “Yeah. I’m alright.”

You smile, and for a moment he swears the world falls away under his feet, leaving just you and him. “Good. I’ll catch you later, then. Text me if that changes, okay?” With a pointed look, you wait for his nod before you turn to head out.

Before you can shut the door fully, Sukuna grabs it, barely stopping you in time. “Hey, uh-” he second-guesses himself before finding his resolve. “Will you come to the court? I can have someone there… for support.”

Your expression softens from surprise to sympathy as you nod. The idea of Sukuna being alone, without even the support of his brothers, doesn’t sit well with you. “Of course.”

Relief clouds his senses. “I’ll send you the details,” he gruffs out. You nod, attempting to shut the door again, but his hold on it is steady. “Thanks.”

You can’t help but smile. You’d have to be a fool not to see the effort he’s putting into fixing his mistakes. There’s obvious changes in the way he’s thinking through his words and reactions before he says or does anything, and he’s making an effort to let you in.

It warms your heart, and it makes it every bit more difficult to pull away each time as you feel your resolve beginning to wear away. Though you do need to study.

“You’re welcome, Kuna.”

His lip quirks into the barest hint of a smile the moment the nickname slips effortlessly past your lips. He nods, relenting and finally letting you shut the door. The sound of the lock flipping behind you is the last noise you hear from the apartment as you make your way to the library to get some printing done for your study session.

–

“Wait up!” Shoko calls out as she falls into step with you on campus the following Tuesday, catching you off-guard. “You headed to work?”

“Yep! Don’t you have class right now?” You query as she follows you to your car.

“Prof’s sick,” she shrugs. “My next lecture’s in, like, four hours.”

“That’s brutal,” you grimace. “Are you gonna study more?”

She nods. “Toji asked for help in his Physical Sciences class, so I’m meeting up with him in a few.” Glancing at her phone, she shoves it back in her pocket after noting the time. “Anyway, did you hear from Sukuna after all that shit over the weekend?”

You nod. “Yeah, a little bit. He’s been updating me on his brothers.”

Shoko hums along, waiting for you to continue as she senses you’re withholding something.

“He asks a lot about my day and how I’m doing.”

Her brow raises. “You know, when you mentioned he seemed like he was actually trying to fix things a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t think it’d last.”

“Me either,” you admit, kicking at gravel as you approach your car. “I honestly thought I was just being stupid by letting him back in even a little bit,” you chuckle in embarrassment, mostly to yourself. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“I just can’t believe he’s proving me wrong,” she shrugs. “Didn’t I tell you people like him don’t change?”

You nod. “You and Kento both did at girls’ night.”

“Okay, you gotta admit it was good advice at the time.”

Reaching your car, you open the door and toss your bag in before turning back to her. “At the time, it made me feel a lot better,” you agree with a chuckle.

“Not so much anymore, huh?” She laughs along with you.

“Not so much,” you click your tongue, fiddling with your keys.

“Some fucking guy, that Sukuna.”

Your brows raise and tilt your head in some form of agreement, your thoughts preoccupied with the pending lawsuit. After a brief silence, Shoko pipes up again.

“You still like him?”

You find her gaze, your brow furrowing in thought. “I do, it’s just…” You trail off, searching for words to describe the strange limbo you’ve found yourself in. “I guess it just feels like I’m kinda getting to know him again?” You try to explain with a small tilt of your head. “Does that make sense?”

“Like, because you didn’t see him for a month, or because he’s acting differently?” She queries.

Poking your tongue into the side of your mouth, you narrow your eyes in thought. “Both? I guess I’m still getting used to him making the effort to be a good friend.” Your keys jingle between your fingers. “Okay, wait. Do you remember when I told you that Sukuna’s kind of a different person when he’s actually being himself?”

“Mhm.”

“Sometimes I see that side of him for a moment here and there, but… sometimes I’m not quite sure who I’m talking to.” You pause, contemplating exactly what you mean by that. “He’s definitely putting in effort and being nice, but sometimes I don’t recognize him at all.”

“Isn’t that mostly a good thing?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, dragging your boot through the gravel and kicking up dust as a small remainder of the last snowfall flicks onto Shoko’s shin. She shoots you an unimpressed look as you lean down to brush her pants off while you continue. “It’s just weird. I guess it’s just that, like-” you pause as you stand back up and brush your hands off. “- Sometimes things are back to normal and everything is great, but sometimes…” you shake your head, shrugging. “I’m not even sure if he knows who he is.”

“Do you think the stress is getting to him?” Shoko clarifies.

“That could be it,” you agree as she makes sense of your rambles.

“Is he that much different?”

“I mean, the Sukuna I know is still there,” you chuckle. “He’s still quiet and kind of a dick sometimes,” you explain, recalling how quiet and standoffish he’s been in the lunchroom to your co-workers since starting at the publishing house. “I think he’s actually thinking about what he’s saying more, though. Like he’s trying to be better.”

The thought brings you back to Saturday night when he’d snapped at you, only to reel himself back in. He’s still the same man, he’s still sharp and hardened, and he’s definitely still got walls up that he’s not letting down anytime soon, but it’s like he’s more aware of that fact now.

You chew on your bottom lip briefly, recalling the way he’d been unusually calm upon your arrival on Sunday morning when you went to help the kids. “But sometimes it seems like he’s just a different person. He’s not angry or anything either. He’s just not there at all.”

“Well, shit.” It’s the best Shoko can offer. It does sound like stress. Like he’s being beaten down and flattened into something he’s not.

You nod, casting a glance at your phone. “I gotta go, but text me? I’ve got some time at work today.”

“Sounds good. I’ll text you when I meet up with Toji.”

“Catch you later,” you grin cheerily as you turn towards your car.

After your conversation with Shoko, you barely have enough time to rush home, change, and make the bus in time to get to the office.

You’re at your desk seconds before your shift starts, panting after rushing up the stairs.

Amused, Yuki’s brow raises from where she sits at her desk opposite you. “Running a bit late?”

“Yeah, I lost track of time.” Taking a moment to catch your breath, you lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

“You know no one cares if you’re a bit late, right?” She chuckles.

“I know,” you sigh, “but I want to make a good impression, maybe keep my position.”

Yuki’s eyes shine as she smiles at the thought, but she’s quickly distracted by movement behind you. Smirking, she motions past you with her pen when you finally lift your head.

Staring at the back of your head is a familiar pair of crimson irises, his expression unreadable and aloof. The muscular man’s hair is disheveled, hardly pushed back with strands falling over his forehead and into his line of sight as though he hadn’t had time to use hair gel. His shirt is also particularly wrinkled today, overall looking like he’s had a morning.

He extends his arm towards you, a familiar cup held within his hand. His hand lingers for a moment as your fingers brush when you pull the cup from him, holding its warmth between your hands.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you grin.

He hums, a hint of a smile playing on the corners of his lips although it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thank you, Sukuna.” You take a sip, smiling as warmth floods you, seeping into your very bones. “It’s perfect.”

“Good. You got a moment?” He asks, eyes flickering to Yuki in a silent question of whether he can borrow you. Yuki just shrugs, careless as ever.

“Yeah, let me just log in.” You move quickly to get settled before grabbing your drink and following after Sukuna. He leads the way to his office, shutting the door behind him and leaning against his desk.

Somehow the fact that he’s not as put-together as usual with hair askew and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you find your thoughts spiraling more than they usually do.

Or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve come to the realization that Sukuna’s not just trying to be better for you, or for his brothers, but he’s trying to be a better version of himself in general, and that only endears you to him more.

He takes a sip of his own drink, grabbing it from his desk, only to hold it out and stare at the label with a wrinkled nose.

“Did they get your order wrong?” You tilt your head questioningly.

Sukuna squints at the label, holding it a bit further back. “It has a caramel shot in it,” he mutters in reply, clearly bothered.

“Do you… need to get your eyes checked?” You raise a brow questioningly.

“Probably,” he grumbles.

“You should do that. Our benefits cover it.”

“We have benefits?”

You purse your lips. “Yeah…? Sukuna, did you read the contract at all? Even I get them and I’m an intern.”

Shrugging, he smirks. “I skimmed it.”

That’s the Sukuna you recognize. Stubborn, a little sly, but full of life in spite of his quiet demeanor.

Rolling your eyes, you giggle to yourself. “Go get your eyes checked.”

His smirk remains in place as he hums, quietly watching you laugh as though he’s trying to commit the scene to memory.

You quiet down, leaning back against the door to his office. “Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Mm,” he hums in acknowledgement, his smirk dissipating as he grows more serious. “Can you be at the courthouse on twelfth street at ten on Thursday?”

“Oh,” a lump forms in your throat at the realization that the court date is growing painfully real now. “Yeah, of course.”

Sukuna lets out a breath, nodding. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the material of his shirt pulled taut.

And this is the shirt that actually fits him correctly.

Not fair.

“Thanks, princess.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, the sharp edges of his features seeming somewhat dulled and almost sweet as he gazes down at you.

You can’t help the smile that graces your lips as you nod.

The silence that follows allows you to get a good look at Sukuna. Although he seems to be more at ease at the publishing house and the hours he’s working between this and the occasional shift at the auto shop aren’t nearly as grueling as they used to be, life continues to take its toll on him. His eyes lack their sharp and cunning glimmer, and every movement he makes borders on languid.

“How are you holding up?”

He knows what you’re really asking. You may as well say ‘what’s wrong?’. It’s a fair question, but it’s one he hates to answer because even now his shoulders are tense and his chest aches. He’s had a headache since dawn rolled around on Monday morning.

“I’m fine,” he lies, brushing the question off as he turns back to his desk.

Sukuna’s not easy to read by any means, and anyone else probably would have believed him, but you see right through him. He doesn’t give you the chance to question him as he leans over his desk. “My lawyer doesn’t think we’ll be there long on Thursday.”

“Why not?” Your brow furrows. “Shouldn’t it be long?”

He grinds his teeth in frustration as he replies. “I don’t really get it, shit’s fucked. I guess this isn’t even the real trial, this is some sort of conference bullshit,” he explains. “It's supposed be for us to come to an agreement, but Kaori’s lawyer laid out the shit they’re asking for and it’s not fucking happening.”

“What does she want?”

“Sole custody with no visitation.”

Your eyes widen, taken aback. “You wouldn’t even be able to see them?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, his knuckles going white as he drags his fingers across his desk until they’re directly under him, crinkling a blank piece of paper beneath him. “She’s never liked me and she made sure I knew, even as a kid.”

“I’m so sorry,” you offer sympathetically. Much like your talk with Choso the other day, you’re not sure what more to offer.

He flashes you a glance of acknowledgement, grunting. “It’s whatever. Point is, it’ll be the first time I’ve seen her in years and her lawyer’s gonna push for a full trial.” He can only shake his head in exasperation. “Her evidence is just bullshit from my school records n’ whatever.”

She’s clearly using whatever force is necessary to take the kids out from under Sukuna’s nose, leaving a slimy feeling in the pit of your stomach. What could she possibly have against her own step-son to pull this kind of move against him? She’s purposefully backing him into a corner, and you see now why his lawyer had their work cut out for them despite the case seeming like an obvious decision to anyone who’s met Sukuna and his brothers.

Picking up his iPad and shoving the papers on his desk aside, he turns on the screen and taps around the device. “You won’t believe how much this bullshit costs, too,” he grumbles. “I swear she’s doing it on purpose.” He taps on the screen a couple of times, his mounting frustration becoming obvious as he taps harder each time. “She’s fuckin’ dragging everything out, too. This all just leads to another fucking court date and more fucking money for my fucking lawyer, and she’s putting Choso n’ Yuji through so much shit, and-”

As Sukuna’s rambling grows in intensity, you push off from where you were leaning against the door, running your hand over his rigid back as he faces away from you. He stiffens, his speech cutting off the moment your fingers run along the muscles. “It’ll be okay. You’ll win,” you smile reassuringly, dropping your hand and stepping off to the side to see his face as he fiddles uselessly with his iPad.

“And if I don’t?”

“You will.”

His temple twitches as he grits his teeth, his gaze fixed on the device in his hands. “And if I don’t?” He growls. His brow is pulled together in a tight furrow, and although his eyes blaze with frustration, it’s not directed at you.

“If you don’t…” you chew on your lip, gingerly reaching out to soothe your thumb over his hand that’s fidgeting with the volume buttons on the side of the iPad, clicking them with enough force to damn-near break them. His fingers steady as you run your thumb over his knuckles like second nature. “Then you’ll figure things out.”

His eyes flicker wildly around your face, as though he’s searching for something. He swallows hard, his gaze returning to his desk.

“Don’t worry about that, okay? You can face that if it comes to it.”

He inhales sharply and nods, twitching his fingers into yours, only for you to pull away. He knows you mean well and he still appreciates your support, but it serves as another reminder of what he’s lost.

“Right,” he agrees, turning his attention to the iPad as he opens his latest project.

Peeking over the screen, you catch a glimpse of a character that you recognize instantly despite having never seen it before. “Is that Baby Whale?”

“You can just ask to see it, brat,” he grumbles, pulling the device out from under your nose as though you’re Yuji obnoxiously trying to get a peek at whatever Sukuna’s working on.

“Sorry,” you grin innocently.

Rolling his eyes, Sukuna tilts the screen towards you. A sweet little purple whale beams at you with pink rosy cheeks. You’re forced to bite your lip in an effort to stop yourself from giggling at the sight of the brute before you who’s drawn the most cutesy character you can possibly imagine. There’s nothing wrong with it by any means, but it’s definitely not his first choice of character, you’re sure of that.

“Yeah, it’s Baby Whale. Do you guys ever get original shit or should I be worried about gettin’ a fast porcupine or some shit next?”

“Mm, I’d worry. We get them here and there, but…” you shrug.

“Great,” he sighs, reaching down to his desk to hold up a few of the pages he’d just printed to get Maya to sign off on. “Here.”

Your eyes light up as you sift through the pages. They’re for a horror-type series of some sort, as far as you can tell, of two children on an adventure, though you aren’t quite sure what it’s a knock-off of, if it is one. Each cover has a vastly different environment, from a jungle beneath a volcano to an abandoned cityscape. Though it’s not in Sukuna’s traditional sketchy charcoal style that you’ve grown to love, they’re still gorgeous. The painterly effect he’s given them is stunning, reminiscent of a watercolor painting.

“These look amazing,” you breathe, sifting through the pages. You come to land on one cover of the two kids in a crystalline cavern with a lizard crawling towards the reader of the novel.

He hums. “I don’t mind the job when I’m not drawin’ knock-off shit.”

So it is original. “I mean, even when you are, it’s gotta be better than stocking shelves, right?” You ask, gaze trained on his artwork.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Still owe you for this.”

“I thought we talked about this,” you smirk, raising a brow as you come to meet his gaze.

He lets out a breath through his nose in somewhat of a laugh. “Thanks, princess.” He pokes gently at your arm as you smile at him and for a moment a familiar air of comfort settles over you. It’s gone before Sukuna can really relish in it, though, as you pull away with a sigh.

“I should get to work. Let me know if you need anything?”

Sukuna frowns as you retreat. “Yeah. See ya at lunch.”

–

You’ve passed the courthouse a number of times on your way to get-togethers with friends across the city, but it’s never seemed to loom over you quite like this. From what Sukuna mentioned, this conference thing seems to be little more than a formality and a requirement and you’re pretty sure no decisions will be made today, unless his step-mother has some sort of miracle change of heart.

From the way Sukuna’s described her, you don’t get the feeling that’s likely.

Having never been to the courthouse yourself, you arrive decently early in case you need to fill out forms, or something of the sort.

It never really occurred to you just how little you know about the world of legal proceedings until you’d found yourself online researching proper attire. You’d landed on something you would usually wear to work anyway, a pale white blouse and a pair of fitted slacks that hug your hips in all the right areas.

A pair of simple black heels adorn your feet as they click across the ground. A stark flash of pink catches your eye, the man himself leaning against the smooth faux brick of the courthouse, smoke spiraling into the air. His head leans back against the outer building wall as he watches the smoke billow and rise.

A suit jacket hangs over his shoulders, a tie done up to his neck, though he seems to have tugged it a bit loose. His hair is pushed back out of his face with gel, though it’s so long it’s somewhat unruly anyway as a few strands still tickle his forehead.

You can’t deny that your heart palpitated once, maybe even twice at the thought of how handsome he looks with his broad shoulders pulling the suit jacket taut. It gets harder to deny your own feelings when every time you see him, he continues to prove that he has changed, and you find yourself forced to listen to the blood roaring in your ears as your heart rate skyrockets.

“Hey,” you greet him, catching him off-guard. His head whips down, his eyes trailing your outfit and lingering a moment too long on your hips. Any other day, he’d mentally scold himself for staring, but his mind is such a mess that he hardly realizes he’s doing it until you jut your hips out expectantly with a hand on one side when he doesn’t reply.

His eyes shoot up to meet your gaze, flitting down to the shy smile you wear, having blatantly noticed the way he checked you out. Clearing his throat, he grunts in reply.

Your cheeks are warm, even as you consider the emotions drawn across his face. You can’t say for sure what’s going through his mind, although you can make an educated guess when the muscles in his forehead twitch. He isn’t quite scowling, nor does he wear the familiar pride on his sleeve that you’ve grown accustomed to.

It’s exactly what you mentioned to Shoko.

This isn’t Sukuna. It’s not the frustrated man who masks his unease and fear with anger, lashing out needlessly. But it’s also not the sly and cocky asshole who’s surprisingly thoughtful and conscious of others.

It’s like he’s someone else, someone you can’t identify and don’t know how to help. His fear isn’t getting the best of him, his anger isn’t overflowing and misdirected with nowhere to go. Those, you know how to handle. But now, he’s simply lost.

“How are you feeling?”

Grateful for the nicotine calming him enough to give you a competent answer, he tilts his head in a semblance of a shrug. “Fine, I guess. Not like there’s any point in this bullshit.”

With a grimace, you take a step towards him. “Do you really think this is for nothing?”

Sukuna inhales deeply as he takes a drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke within his lungs as he considers your question. “She’s tryin’ to bleed me dry of cash. That’s all this is. If she really cared, we’d settle shit here.”

“Shit,” you breathe. Sukuna casts a glance at you, but ultimately chooses not to comment on your choice of word. “I really thought this was meant to be the actual trial,” you admit.

Blowing smoke over his head to keep it out of your face, he nods. “I did too. My lawyer explained it last week and I meant to tell ya, but then shit happened and Choso,” he motions his hand lazily through the air before dropping it at his side. “I dunno. I don’t get the point of all this shit.”

“Your lawyer just told you last week that this isn’t the full trial?” You gape. Had Hiromi steered Sukuna in the wrong direction? Shouldn’t he know this?

He shrugs again. “Nah, I just didn’t get it.”

“Oh.” Fiddling with your thumbs, you nod. “So what’s after this?”

Dropping his cigarette on the pavement at his feet, he stomps it out, grinding his foot on it. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shakes his head, frustrated with the system. “We wait a couple of months until the actual trial.”

“A couple of months?” You’re not sure if their family can make it through waiting a couple more months with Sukuna and Choso acting so distant that even Yuji’s been affected. It’s strange to think that a system meant to take every precaution and is bleeding them dry. Of money, of time, and of life.

Sukuna seems to share your dismay as he adds, “at least we get more time to prepare, I guess.”

Whispering an ‘I guess’ in agreement, you let Sukuna usher you inside with a hand on your lower back. Though he drops his hand as you head through security and check-in with a clerk at a grand wooden desk in the center of the large lobby.

It’s not long before you’re sitting in a couple of uncomfortable wooden chairs in a room full of strangers. Sukuna deliberately sits near a woman with a short brown bob, leafing through paperwork as she reviews the case she’s working on, although he doesn’t say a word to her.

“Is that your lawyer?” You ask, tilting your chin towards the woman beside Sukuna in a pristine-looking suit. She’s the definition of confidence as she flips through what you assume are notes, which helps settle your nerves a bit.

Sukuna nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh, Ms. Harte,” he addresses her before introducing you both.

She smiles warmly at you, extending a professional hand. “Mr. Sukuna mentioned you would be here to support him. I’m glad you could make it,” she shakes your hand firmly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you greet her in return. Though you have no part in the proceedings, it’s at least nice to know that Sukuna and the boys are in good hands. Sukuna definitely owes Hiromi a favor, though he doesn’t need that reminder now.

“Case number 2493, Sukuna versus Itadori.” A clerk with a clipboard in his hands waits for both parties to join him, and it’s then that you see a face so painfully familiar, yet completely foreign. You’ve never met her, but you recognize her instantly. Choso is a spitting image of Kaori Itadori, with deep umber eyes and dark brown hair. Yuji, on the other hand, clearly got Jin’s genes.

Beside her is a tall man in a full beige suit, sporting a well-kept graying beard. He walks with the same confident gait as Ms. Harte on Sukuna’s opposite side, but he carries himself with an air of superiority that you assume only money can buy. Money that Kaori clearly has, if the massive diamonds adorning her collar are anything to go off of.

Sukuna’s step-mother eyes him with disgust before her gaze trails the length of your form. A chill runs up your spine, sending ice straight through your veins that matches the look in her eyes. She regards you with so much disdain, yet it’s the mild interest that gleams in her eyes that makes your skin crawl.

The clerk leads the way down a hall to a small room labelled ‘Private Meeting Room 2’. Within the room is one long table with a number of chairs on either side. Both parties take their seats on the same side of the table, keeping a small distance between one another. Sukuna’s lawyer advises you to take a seat and keep to the back of the room, as you can’t participate in the discussion.

From your seat, you can see the way Kaori folds her hands in her lap, grinning at her lawyer as she laughs at something he says. The stark contrast to Sukuna’s silence as he leans over the table is immense, but in contrast to the nerves you expected him to have, he keeps a straight  face.

In the informal meeting room setting, there’s no need to rise as an older gentleman in judges’ attire enters the room. His pale blond hair thins at the sides of his face, gentle wrinkles accentuating his features. He takes a seat on the opposite end of the table, the soft edges of his eyes crinkling as he evaluates both parties and yourself.

You’re grateful for the intimate setting of the meeting, as it eases your own nerves. While the courthouse itself does no favors to settle the growing discomfort in your stomach, the small room has an almost cozy feel to it. There’s an air to the man before you that he wants to help and understand the case that sits well with you, as well.

“Judge Marcos will be overseeing this case conference this morning in the matter of Sukuna versus Itadori,” the clerk begins the session.

The judge settles back in his chair, clasping his hands over the documents laying in front of him. “The purpose of this conference is to come to a resolution before the matter goes to a trial.” He proceeds to explain that a case conference aims to narrow down issues prior to a trial and that this will be a more open conversation with more wiggle room than a traditional trial. He then confirms that disclosure of all evidence has taken place. With all expectations set on the table, the judge sits back as Kaori’s lawyer begins.

“Your Honor, my name is Richard Cahn and I represent the applicant, Kaori Itadori.”

Ms. Harte follows suit at Sukuna’s side, sitting upright to introduce herself as the counsel for Sukuna, the respondent.

“Counsel for the applicant, please begin.”

With the court, if you can even call the small meeting room that, now in session, mounting tension fills the air. It’s overbearing, the way the gravity in the room seems to drag down on every person in the room, yourself included.

“Your Honor, my client is seeking sole guardianship with no visitation rights of her children Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori. We have reason to believe that Mr. Sukuna is a negative influence on the children for a number of reasons and it is Ms. Itadori’s maternal right as their mother to raise her children,” Mr. Cahn begins without faltering, introducing their points succinctly.

Clearing her throat, Ms. Harte responds with equal clarity. “Your Honor, my client is more than fit to be their guardian, as he has demonstrated over the past three years. The children’s needs are met, they are in school, and Mr. Sukuna has a clear record with no need to raise any concern regarding his abilities. My client would like to remain in sole custody of the children, however he is open to Ms. Itadori having visitation rights as their mother.”

Of course, she left out the part where that portion is much to his dismay and he’d only grant that right at the request of the kids. That’s not for the opening statements, though.

Much like Sukuna anticipated, Kaori is unwilling to cooperate. Every single option is shut down before the conversation can begin. Although he remains as an unbiased third party, even the judge seems somewhat perturbed at the obvious disdain shared between Sukuna and Kaori. Their dislike of one another runs far deeper than even that of most ex spouses that end up in this room.

What starts as a polite and orderly conversation primarily between the lawyers quickly devolves into some sort of familial tension that clearly extends beyond the courtroom. You can’t see either of their faces from your position at the back of the room, but you can feel the heat radiating from Sukuna as he seethes through each deceitfully polite performance from Kaori, but even she begins to crack when Sukuna pushes back.

“Your Honor, with all due respect, I won’t tolerate any settlements. I don’t feel comfortable leaving my children in the hands of my step-son,” Kaori repeats herself for what feels like the fifth time as the judge attempts to find a middle-ground, but she’s completely unwilling to budge. Even visitation rights for Sukuna seem to be so far off the table they may as well be six feet in the ground, along with any love she may have had for her step-son.

“You didn’t have a problem with it when I couldn’t reach you three years ago,” Sukuna quips, his anger clear through his tone although he remains even. He may be anxious as hell and equally furious, but knowing that this is all for naught and his lawyer may as well be a bill whose total increases by the second, his frustrations grow fiery.

“Ryomen, we’ve provided all the medical documents that were requested as proof of my illness and I would appreciate if you didn’t dismiss them.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Sukuna finally bursts, slamming his hand flat on the table.

“Mr. Sukuna,” the judge warns sternly, leaning over the table. “I expect proper courtroom etiquette, even here. We’re here to discuss the matters at hand, not your opinions of the applicant.”

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls as he physically bites his tongue to keep from saying something he’ll regret. Leaning back in his chair, he casts a glance at the door, desperate to escape from this room. Unlike the rest of the legal proceedings, this whole conference just serves to piss him off.

“Apologies, Your Honor, my client is simply stressed as he cares very deeply for his brothers,” Ms. Harte steps in, clearing her throat to put Sukuna’s thoughts into a court-approved statement. “While my client was unaware that Ms. Itadori was ill, he did use multiple methods of contact to reach out, and Ms. Itadori didn’t respond.” Turning to address Kaori, she clasps her hands together. “Should it not be your responsibility to inform your step-son and husband of your new contact?”

Kaori’s lawyer pipes in. “As we stated earlier, she was required to change all contact information and moved closer to her office upon starting with her new company. She shared her contact information with her husband, however it seems he didn’t share this information with Mr. Sukuna, or save her updated number before passing.”

The tattooed brute has to physically mask his scoff. He coughs into his elbow, shaking his head. He’d called from both his cell and his dad’s cell, he’d sent letters both from him and Choso, he’d emailed, and even searched social media. How convenient that she somehow had everything accounted for. That’s not even mentioning the additional money Sukuna spent to have land titles for her name pulled just to see if she had purchased new property, only to come up blank.

She had completely and utterly dropped off the face of the earth. As far as Sukuna was concerned back then, she made her position on her family clear.

As far as Sukuna is concerned now, he’ll do everything in his power to show her not to fuck with him. He doesn’t care how much his chest tightens, he doesn’t care if it feels as though he’s watching everything around him as nothing more than an observer outside of his own body. He doesn’t care if his mental health suffers for all the shit she’s putting him through.

He’ll move heaven and earth to save his brothers from her.

The judge frowns, having heard this argument already. The meeting room is running in circles like a dog chasing its own tail, they were never going to get anywhere at this rate.

“Mr. Sukuna did his due diligence and has taken care of the children for three years, they are healthy and cared for and there is no evidence against-”

“I’ll believe that when I see the house study,” Kaori interrupts, the first phrase to come from her that feels genuine as she diverts her attention to a small window at the edge of the room. Sukuna’s hand balls into a fist on the table.

“Ms. Itadori. Let the respondent finish.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. There is no evidence to disprove my client’s ability to care for the children. No one has ever expressed any concern to him. The children attend school with good attendance and have remained healthy over the years. Mr. Sukuna earns more than enough to keep a roof over their heads and put food on the table,” Ms. Harte continues.

“Your Honor,” Mr. Cahn addresses the judge. “I would like to see the house study before coming to any conclusions.”

Sukuna sighs, leaning back further in his chair. Kaori’s lawyer had pushed for a rush assessment, but even with the rush, it isn’t meant to be ready anytime soon.

“My son Choso has always been easily influenced, and I worry while he’s under Sukuna’s care.”

Sukuna’s fist hits the table. “Please-” he gripes.

“Mr. Sukun-” The judge tries to interject, but it’s no use.

“You never cared, you’re just feeding them the bullshit they want to hear!” He snarls, flipping in his chair to face her. “You care about them about as much as you care about me!”

“Mr. Sukuna. I understand being emotional in this situation, but I will not allow this behavior to continue. We will proceed without you if you feel the need to act without respect.”

Sukuna shoots Kaori one last glare before sitting back in his chair. He’s not doing himself any favors by lashing out, but he can’t help but feel as though this entire system is playing a game against him and he isn’t even aware of it. It’s as though everyone is a puppet in Kaori’s little game and the kids are prizes to be won.

Rubbing his eyes, the tattooed man sighs. “Sorry… Your Honor.”

“Ryomen, I’ve always cared about you,” Kaori sends him a disingenuous look of sympathy. Her lips curl into a false smile, but to any outsider, Sukuna knows it would appear genuine.

Even to you, it’s hard to tell.

Gritting his teeth, Sukuna keeps his gaze set dead ahead. If he doesn’t keep his cool, he knows he’ll be thrown out of the room. “Do you know when I realized you didn’t give a shit about me?”

“Watch your language,” Ms. Harte warns quietly at his side in an attempt to keep the judge at bay.

The conversation doesn’t exactly pertain to the case, but the judge remains silent. Sukuna’s question is met with no opposition.

Kaori swallows, watching with a furrowed brow as Sukuna’s adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Dad told me to go find you at my grandfather’s funeral. He was cryin’, needed some time alone. Do you remember where you were?”

Kaori’s eyes flicker down to the table. Her tongue swipes across her lower lip before she bites it momentarily.

“Do you remember where you were?” Sukuna pushes in a growl now, leaning over the table.

“Objection, Your Honor, this is not pertinent to the case,” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up, setting his foot down as he realizes that this doesn’t bode well in their favor.

“Where were you, Kaori?” He snarls, his voice gravelly as he grips the arm of his chair with white knuckles.

“Objection sustained. Mr. Sukuna, stay focused please.”

Sitting back harshly in his chair, Sukuna’s practically shaking. You may not be able to speak, but certainly as his support person, you can support him, right? Gingerly, you slide your chair forward quietly, wincing as it scrapes lightly against the floor. It catches Kaori’s attention as she shoots you a glare. You have half a mind to shoot that same glare back but that’s not important right now.

Close enough to reach Sukuna, you slip your hand over his much larger one that still grips the arm of his chair. Your fingers slide between his, slotting so easily into place as though they belong there. Your heart does a flip at the thought, but you keep your attention fixed on Sukuna and his needs.

From the corner of his eye, he glances down at your hands. His chest continues to heave in frustration, but as the conversation rolls back around to the subject of the kids and points begin getting reiterated and repeated until Sukuna’s hardly even paying attention anymore, he finds himself beginning to calm down. His shoulders gradually slouch, his fingers folding over yours as he gives your hand a grateful squeeze.

Kaori should be grateful to you, because Sukuna’s sure he would have torn into her if you weren’t here. He would have been thrown out, sure, but at least for once he might get answers to his own mistreatment by his step-mother.

How can the judge not see that the information is relevant? He huffs to himself, earning a couple of looks, but no one mentions it.

After hearing about Sukuna’s supposed inability to care for the kids for the fourth time, the judge finally raises a white flag.

“Coming up on the end of our time, I see we aren’t getting anywhere. A trial date will be scheduled for after the house study is received. Any further evidence must be submitted via the official disclosure process both to the court and each party.”

Your friend sighs at your side. Another two hours of his lawyer’s time. Another bill. More money down the drain. He knew how this would play out from the beginning.

“I would suggest you continue mediation between now and then to see if you can come to an agreement. I encourage you to attempt to understand one another outside of the court,” the judge adds, but Sukuna can’t even bear to look at Kaori. It’s of no use, and everyone within the room is well aware.

“I will issue my endorsement for a trial in writing. This matter is now adjourned.”

Breathing out a disdainful sigh, Sukuna squeezes your hand once, before untangling his fingers from yours as he pushes up out of the chair. It’s hard to get a read on him as you follow him out of the meeting room into the lobby. Standing off to the side, you allow him a few minutes to speak with his lawyer, watching the way he seems painfully frustrated as he lazily shrugs his shoulders. Even from this angle you can tell every time he rolls his eyes.

As Kaori and her lawyer approach Sukuna, his shoulders tense.

“I’m sorry the circumstances couldn’t be better, but it’s good to see you aga-”

“Don’t pretend like you give a fuck!” Sukuna barks, turning heads. Your eyes widen as all attention is suddenly on your group. Even standing off to the side, you find yourself shrinking away from the prying eyes.

“Ryomen, you know this isn’t what I wanted,” Kaori replies evenly, easily keeping her cool under Sukuna’s searing gaze.

He scoffs, waving his hand through the air in exasperation. Always the picture of a calm and perfect wife, of course she had Sukuna’s father wrapped around her finger while she went off and did her own thing. Jin could never be that upset with her so long as she batted her lashes and doubled down on her innocence.

“I don’t fuckin’ know what you want,” he mutters, laughing dryly as he casts his gaze to the side of the courthouse. His voice returns to a reasonable level, though it drips with venom. “So, what the fuck is it, then? You want money, you want to tear me down because I know what you fuckin’ did?”

His step-mother’s eyes darken in such a subtle way that an outsider might not even realize her smile is a facade. Nothing more than painted lines on a meaningless canvas. You can’t help the way a shiver runs up your spine as you slowly make your way back to Sukuna’s side when you notice security is keeping a watchful eye on him for any more disruptions. He should consider himself lucky he’s even still in the building at this rate.

Settling beside your friend, you can feel just how red hot his fury is. Kaori casts a curious once-over of your form as you stand alongside her step-son with a curious smile that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sukuna as he steps between you. He knows he asked you to be here, but he’s not about to let Kaori say a single damn word to you. You may be his support, but you won’t be involved in whatever lies she’s brewing.

You can only blink in surprise as Sukuna’s hand finds your forearm without glancing back, keeping you safely behind him where she can’t even so much as glimpse at you. Blinking up at him, you can only make out the edges of his tattoos and a glint of the uneasiness that sidles his anger.

“That was a long time ago, Ryomen. I want us to be able to move past that.”

“Yeah? Is that why we’re here? To move past everything?” He hisses in a mocking tone, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“You wouldn’t have cooperated if I tried to work with you on this, sweetheart.”

Even from your spot behind him, you don’t miss the way your friend visibly recoils at the term of endearment. “Don’t fucking call me that,” he hisses.

“Mr. Sukuna, I think it’s in our best interest-” Ms. Harte makes an attempt to de-escalate the situation, to no avail.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?” Sukuna blows past his lawyer’s warning, his voice rising in decibels. “Cho and Yu don’t want this!”

Kaori remains eerily calm as she shoots Sukuna the most fake sympathetic stare you’ve possibly ever witnessed. “They’re kids. They’re too young to know what they want.”

“They’re smart!” Sukuna barks.

Stern voices sound behind you and you cast a glance at the quickly incoming security guards, where Sukuna will surely be ushered out.

Not that he cares at this particular moment. “They don’t care about you! They don’t even know you!” He continues, his jaw tightening. “You never even fucking visited! Don’t you know how many Christmases Cho spent asking if you called or mailed something?” Sukuna waves his hand through the air, his eyes wild with rage. If Kaori’s affected by his words at all, it’s carefully masked. “You fucked your own family!”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” a large man in a black security vest is followed closely by two other equally large men as they approach the brutish man in front of you.

In such a blind rage, their words don’t even register to Sukuna.

“If you gave a single shit about Jin, about any of us, you would have been there for the funeral,” he snarls, his chest heaving.

The security guards slowly advance towards Sukuna as Kaori replies. “I wanted to be there. I wish I could have been.”

The lawyers continue to try to defuse the situation, all the while the security guards’ intensity increases as they get infinitely closer to grabbing him and physically throwing him out. The guards may be big, but you can only imagine a man like Sukuna is still daunting.

Setting your hand on his back, Sukuna straightens, casting a glance at the guards that he’s now overly aware of, only to realize it’s not their hand. His head whips towards you as he gains clarity on the situation, his crimson eyes blazing with rage. Subtly leaning into your touch, he raises his hands in surrender, addressing the guards.

“I’m leavin’,” he mutters, his hands falling down to his side with a plop as they collide with his slacks on either side. “Thanks, Ms. Harte,” he mutters as he turns to make his way out.

The security guards follow him closely, tensing as he turns back to Kaori for one moment, his tongue poking into the side of his cheek as he contemplates something. “I didn’t tell him, by the way.” He examines her face, some sick form of satisfaction pooling in his chest as her mask breaks for a moment. Her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting, but Sukuna doesn’t want to hear whatever she has to say.

You cast a glance between the two, not daring to ask any questions with Sukuna ready to blow a fuse.

Stalking through the security checkpoint at the front of the building, he pushes the large wooden doors with enough force to cause them to slam on their hinges as you follow him out into the cool outdoor air.

“Fuck!” He barks straight up at the clouds above, dragging his hands through his hair as he stares up at the overcast sky. His fingers tangle in the pink locks, tousling the strands as more hair falls out of place. “She’s such a fucking-” He cuts himself off, only because you’re still at his side. Huffing loudly, he leans over the masonry fence at the edge of the stairs out front of the courthouse, his hands covering his face.

You’re silent as he remains there for a moment, coming up slowly beside him. Leaning on your hip against the smooth brick beside him, you peer over at him.

Sensing your presence, Sukuna’s hands drop, crossing over one another out in front of him. Letting out a breath, he absently cracks his knuckles, staring at the bare winter trees that extend in front of you. His chest heaves with every breath he lets out, his muscles tensing with each time he barely holds back the choice words he wants to say about his step-mother.

You stay silent at his side, offering quiet comfort in your presence, but it’s your hand on his bicep that truly calms him. His entire demeanor shifts as your hand gently rubs up and down his arm in a soothing motion. With one long inhalation, he tilts his head to look up at you.

He’s not sure why he expects to see a look of disappointment. Deep down, some part of him expects you to retreat back into your shell after he caused a scene, but you only peer down at him with understanding and what might even be grief. He’s not sure why he would even suspect you to regard him with disappointment when that’s not who you are. You get him.

His brow furrows further the longer he stares at you, growing frustrated with himself for projecting his own negative thoughts onto you.

“What’s on your mind?” You query at the sight of his glower.

Averting his gaze, he shakes his head. “Nothing.” He shifts slightly into your touch, reaching up to rub your hand with his opposite one. With one last pat on your skin, he stands upright, rolling his shoulders back as he turns away from you to face the courthouse with a huff. “I should let you head back,” he mutters, barely audible.

“Actually, um-” you pause, shamelessly watching the way he raises a large, veiny hand to his shoulder to attempt to rub at a knot in his muscles. Tearing your gaze away, you push down the uneasy flip that your stomach does at the realization that the grumpy man standing in front of you has changed and even if things are never the same as they once were, you’re happy to stand by and support him and his family. After all, you don’t need to let him carve the same place in your heart that he once had, right? He can be important to you without holding such a big piece of your love.

If anything, maybe the distance between you will help you overcome your feelings and be what he clearly needs.

A friend.

It may hurt to know your feelings aren’t reciprocated, but you’re happy to hold him dear as a friend if it’s all you ever are to one another. Once you overcome your infatuation, you’re sure you can find a comfortable place within his life that makes sense for you both, rather than hoping for something that will never work.

As you hesitate with the mess in your mind, Sukuna turns to face you, raising a brow expectantly.

“Sorry, um- did you want to grab lunch? I’m hungry.”

His eyes widen briefly at your offer. Not an offer for help, or support for his siblings or what he’s going through. Just an offer to hang out. To be friendly.

He’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“I, uh- I can’t really afford lunch. I’ll just-”

“I’ll pay,” you offer without thinking twice.

His brow furrows as frustration crosses his features.

But he’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“Sure. What’d you have in mind?” He gruffs in spite of his standoffish expression.

“A new ramen place opened up near me that I’ve been wanting to try but their hours are awful so I can never go after class or work, but I bet they’re actually open right now.”

“Whatever you want,” he agrees. “Lead the way, princess.”

As you shyly avert your eyes at the nickname with a sweet smile crossing your lips, two things occur to Sukuna as he follows behind you to your car.

The first; he’s never considered himself a particularly lucky man, but when it comes to your place in his life, he may have won the lottery. He can still see your walls, he knows he hasn’t patched the bridge that stands between you, but at least if he treads carefully you’re still there and for that he’s beyond grateful.

And the second; no matter how tense his muscles are, no matter how empty his bank account is, no matter how badly he wants to tear into Kaori in a courtroom and have the judge take his word for how shitty she is, you still manage to make him smile.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

❦ a/n ; i put together some husband!wyk!sukuna headcanons if you wanted to check those out here and i put together a playlist here <33

helloooo!! thanks for all the patience with the delay between chapters, i appreciate it <33 it gave me the time to not only write out both ch13 and 14, but also ensure they fit well with one another and all the details make sense.

a lot of research went into this and i want to thank my two absolutely lovely followers @/aagathokakologicall and @/notcharliw for all their help with the legal details as well! information on proceedings isn't super readily available and they were a huge help! i also took a few liberties to try to make sure the processes are easy to follow and interesting for the audience, so hopefully i've pulled that off here! i was hoping to land somewhere between tv drama and realism.

if you notice any errors in the legal processes... no you didn't :) LMAO

i say it every time and will continue to say it: thank you so much as always for all the love for wyk <33 it makes my day and it's a big driving factor in my motivation to write, so thank you. i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoyed 🫶

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @jeonwiixard

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[v4mpvelocity]

KANG DAE-HO X READER NSFW HEADCANNONS

pairing: Kang Dae-Ho x female reader

SMUT MDNI

A/N : literally my man sigh, all of these headcannons start sfw with how you met kinda but the rest IS nsfw

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who put his life on the line to ensure your safety during red light green light. Pushing you behind him and shielding you with his body when Gi-Hun said for those who were smaller to get behind someone bigger.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who you have been close to ever since, relying on eachother for survival in the games, a bond forming between you both. Although, as the games progressed that bond went beyond mutual effort to keep eachother alive. Eye contact that would last longer than for those who were just friends, lingering touches, unspoken words.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who would do anything to protect you and ensure your well-being. Always keeping you at arms length whether it be making you sit next to him or keeping an arm around your shoulders. Hugs after games, sharing beds, sharing food, there was much more than just friendship going on between the both of you, and you both knew it.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who's willing to fight somebody if they disrespect you, whether your around or not. His protective instincts working overdrive as he feels a primal need to declare you as his, making sure everybody knows it.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who thrusts into you softly from behind when everyone is asleep, his strong arms keeping you close to his chest as he presses kisses to the side of your face. His thick cock filling you deliciously with each thrust, the tip kissing your cervix.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who puts your needs before his, ensuring that youve finished at least twice before even putting his cock in to make sure that your prepped enough. Holding you to his chest as you whine whilst he slides his dick into your tight hole, stretching you to the point where you feel as if your being split in half.

'Mm shh...shh honey.... almost all the way in... that's it, good girl...taking it so well'

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who talks you through it, murmuring softly in your ear as you whimper and whine, trying to stay quiet as his cock abuses your oversensitive pussy. Softly caressing your tits with one hand as the other rubs circles on your clit, only intention to bring you the most pleasure he can.

'That feel good, hm? yeah? such a good girl?' or 'You want it harder honey? hmm..shh..shhh ive got you sweetie'

Kang Dae-ho, the man who has your legs spread at an almost embarrassing angle in the squid game bathrooms, but somehow manages to make you feel as if you were the most gorgeous being known to man. Pouring his love and affection for you into every thrust, eyes locked with yours as if he were proving his love for you through actions and unspoken words. Making the most vulgar words seem as if they were written by the gods themselves, as if it were angels singing praises from up above.

'Thats it honey, keep bouncing on that cock...fuckk..such a good girl' or 'So fuckin' beautiful.....my beautiful girl'

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who whines when he cums, and hes not ashamed of it either. His thrusts speeding up as his cock drives into you with an unfathomable speed, abusing your gummy walls. Hands gripping your hips as he pounded into your pussy, balls smacking against your ass causing the sound of skin on skin to echo throughout the room. He 100% has a breeding kink and will want to cum in you with any chance he gets, but if thats not your thing thats ok with him too!

'Fuckk..fuckkk...gonna cum honey....where you want it baby? you want me to fill you up hm? yeah? good girl.' or

'Fuckk....please can i cum in you baby......lemme fuck a baby into you.'

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who is the biggest softie and amazing at aftercare, ensuring you feel worshipped and loved before running you a hot bubble bath and lighting some candles. Providing you with anything you may need food, water you name it he'll get it for you. Then after he'll hold you close, ensuring your asleep before he can finally drift off.

[kitysugar]

tired baby ~ lee heeseung x reader

inspired by this request ! ౨ৎ

in which your loving boyfriend takes care of you, even in your dazed out, sleepy state when you’re still so needy for him

word count ; 1.6k

somnophilia, fingering, pet names, sub/dom themes, nicknames (daddy, baby, angel, more). daddy kink. not proof read, spelling mistakes, wah wah.

it was around one in the morning when heeseung finally tore his gaze away from the switch that he has in his hands, his attention focused on you sound asleep on his chest instead.

you had giving him your switch around an hour ago, asking him to help you with something in Minecraft. being the man he his, heeseung got sucked into the game and began building houses for you, completely forgetting the original meaning behind you giving him your switch to begin with.

the only reason his focus had been completely torn was the small, quiet little moan that left your sleepy, parted lips. suddenly, the small device in his hands was completely out of mind as he heard another soft whimper leave your throat and right into his perked up ears.

without a second thought, heeseung gently leaned over to the side and set the switch down on the bed side table before shifting his body slightly so he can get onto his side, spooning you gently in order to not wake you up.

one of his cold hands makes its way to the base of the big shirt you're wearing; its one of his. the article of clothing swallowing your smaller figure whole as you stir in your sleep, pressing your back up flush against his chest. your ass pushes up against heeseungs lap, making him groan out into the chilly air of the dim shared room.

"h-hee..." you whimper in your sleepy daze, the wet dream your having makes your thighs clamp down against each other slightly - looking for any sign of friction. heeseungs hands snake up inside the shirt, his cool fingertips coming into contact with the warm skin of your waist.

heeseungs ears perk up at the sound of quiet, small huffs your tired mouth makes, way your body completely mets into his even as you find yourself fast asleep.

heeseung smirks to himself after his fingers trail down passed your waist line, realizing there was lack of underwear you were wearing, his face coming to bury itself in your hair - your strawberry vanilla scented shampoo completely clouding his senses as his hand snakes below your abdomen, stopping right before he comes in contact with your needy heat.

your lover kisses the back of your head sweetly, wrapping your body in his arms as his fingers finally come in contact with your already-wet pussy. his digits slip through your folds with ease, a hiss leaving heeseungs lips at the feeling of your needy cunt in the palm of his hands.

heeseungs other hand moves up to move your hair away from your neck so he can have full access to your skin, sucking light purple marks that have you grinding your hips back into his growing erection.

the plush feeling of your ass grinding on his clothed dick makes him groan into your ear quietly, his fingers finally coming up to where you need him most.

as heeseung massages gently circles on your clit, a hushed call of his name makes him feel as if he were being driven insane - lust completely clouding his field of judgement and the only thought that bounces off the hollow corners of his mind was you.

"that's it baby" his deep, husky voice whispers into your ear, his breath fanning your soft skin. your quiet, sleepy whimpers turn into breathless moans and pants , your hips sloppily grinding down onto heeseungs fingers.

"s-seungie.." your mind begins to float back into your body ever so slightly, just as heeseung decides to push a single finger into your tight cunt. your body shudders in his hold, your lips falling into a pout as his digit begins to pump inside your pussy, curling up in order to instantly graze the sweet spot deep inside you that he has grown to know as if it were the back of his own hand.

"i got you sweetheart, 'm right here" your lover huskily whispers into your ear, your eyes fluttering open in order to look to the side and make eye contact with your boyfriend.

"hi angel, what were you dreamin' about hmm?" he taunts sweetly, knowing exactly what the answer is going to be. you pout again as you shake your head from side to side with a whimper. one of his eyebrows cocks up before he plunges another finger deep inside your pussy, making your body shake and curl into him.

"answer me." he bites down softly on your neck, forcing you to speak.

"d-dreaming 'bout you.. always you.. please.." you respond, your eyes swiftly closing at the feeling of his fingers working their magic inside your velvety walls. heeseung hums, his chest vibrating. everything feels hot, and wet. you can feel your slick pooling down your thighs and onto the bedding below, making your cheeks warm up in a pretty shade of pinks and reds.

"yeah? and what was i doing, love?" heeseung asks, making you whine. his fingers dance faster inside you, your hands coming up to grip on his bicep that flexes under your fingertips.

"you... you were fingering me,, kissing me everywhere.. feel- feels s' good" your eyes squeeze shut, your lips parted so that cherry-sweet moans drip off your tongue like honey.

"good girl... so pretty for me, you like it when I finger you baby? yeah?" you frantically nod your head yes, making a deep chuckle errupt from the depths of your boyfriends chest. it was the truth; his fingers are fucking amazing. you jokingly say that they're your 'best friends' from time to time. it really makes his ego swell.

you can feel your consciousness slip away from your body, and you try your best to grasp onto it for as long as you could; and heeseung could tell just how close you were to falling apart in his arms just by the look on your face. he adjusts his position so he's still laying on your side, but he sits up ever so slightly - holding himself above your shaking frame on his forearm above your head.

heeseung looks down at you, watching all the cute faces you make as he splits you in half with just his fingers. he can tell by the way your face contorts and the change of vocal volume that you're slipping - and he is happily there to catch you when that happens.

"i got you sweetheart, let daddy take care of you angel" you mewl at his words, your doe eyes opening slightly in order to look up into his deep brown irises. heeseung kisses the tip of your nose, followed by your cheeks and forehead.

your back arches off the mattress, your body curling straight into your lover.

"love you... i- i love you seungie.." you purr, making his heart swell in his chest with love and admiration. heeseung coo's at you, his lips forming into a pout as he observes you as if you were the most beautiful piece of art he's ever laid eyes on.

"i love you too my beautiful baby..." his air fans your face as he speaks to you, his nose gently pressing up against yours

"so fucking much" he finishes, his fingers picking up the pace. you squeal into the chilly air, your hands squeezing his biceps so roughly, your nails dig into his skin.

"d..daddy s' much... s' too much" you speak, your hips grinding frantically into the palm of his hand, searching for any sort of release. the tips of his fingers caress your sweet spot repeatedly, making tears well up in your big eyes that now fall freely as you squeeze them shut.

heeseung tongues his cheek, a smirk forming on his face once more.

"look at me." you dont listen, your eyes remaining closed as you chase the feeling of your orgasm that begins to form in the pit of your stomach. heeseung raises his eyebrows, taking in the disobedience from you.

"did you not hear me? I said look at me." your eyes fly open at the sound of his sharp tone, obeying his words. he kisses your nose before pressing his forehead up against yours, your eyes connecting in a deep, meaningful and intimate moment.

"you listen to daddy when he tells you to do something, understand?" you nod your head yes, not looking away from him.

"such a good girl, you close baby doll?" you hum at his question, feeling the coil beginning to form in your lower tummy.

"f-feel's hot.. s' hot please.." your hands slide from his bisceps to his shoulder, gripping onto him like he was your last ounce of sanity that threatens to slip through your fingers. tiredness begins to wash over your body, your head feeling light in the process.

"d-daddy please" you beg, your legs threatening to close around his arm as he plays with you.

"shh baby, daddy's got you. im right here sweet thing." you bite down on your bottom lip harshly - enough to draw blood. everything inside you snaps as you begin to cream around his his fingers, your whines and mewls loudly bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit apartment.

"thats it sweetheart, fall apart on me love, daddys here" you feel sleep come and cover your mind like a warm blanket, but before you do - you faintly hear heeseung speak faintly.

"such a good, good girl for me. my perfect little angel... all mine. my pretty girl. did such a good job for me.. i love you so, so much." a deep blush forms on your cheeks, your body going limp in his hold.

the proud feeling lingers in heeseungs chest, even as he cleans you up as you lay there fast asleep. the way you look makes him feel indescribably emotions , ones mainly consisting of love.

the way he would do just anything for you makes him feel insane, but thats okay because he would gladly drive himself insane over you, and he'd do it happily.

[shotmrmiller]

ps!ghost x of!f!reader au :)

It hadn't even been him who found you. It'd been Kyle.

Look at this lush little doll fuckin' herself on your cock.

Simon's chilled glass clinked on the marble tabletop of the bar as he placed it down, brows furrowed in response. He hadn't even gotten the chance to ask what the fuck Kyle was doing watching porn in public because he slid the phone over in a flash, and as soon as Simon's gaze shifted to the phone, his words instantly lodged into his throat.

You really were fucking yourself on his cock. Well, a replica of his cock. Simon found himself unable to look away. You were riding it, puffy lips spread wide as your cunt took every thick inch of the toy. The way you undulated your hips with every rise and fall had a familiar hunger gnawing at his insides, your fingers— so much smaller than his own— circling your bundle of nerves stoked the fire in his lower belly.

His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth when he noticed your soft thighs begin to tremble, the pace of your hand, glistening with your slick— oh, he'd pay for a little taste— quickening as you reached your climax. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip the same way he knows yours did too (it's a shame you're hiding that face of yours, he'd love to see if your eyes cross as you peak), and before the video got to his favorite part, Kyle quickly swiped his phone back.

Johnny's here. Wave 'im down.

Bastard. Good thing he took note of your name.

He'd signed up that same night and tugged his cock to that same video, this time with volume. You keened so prettily, a voice like honey and milk. Gasps when you lifted yourself until just the tip of it remained inside, mewls when you lowered yourself until your lips were flush against the silicone balls (those were inaccurate, he had a full, heavy set thank you very much). Simon stroked himself at your pace, a muted groan escaping him when you gave the toy a pointed thrust, cunt squelching as you did.

The sound you'd made as you climaxed was exactly like he'd thought it'd be, a hiccupped noise that came from the back of your throat, so real, genuine. It'd easily tossed him over his own edge, muscles taut and stomach tight as he spurts thick ropes of warm spend on himself, coating his dark trail of coarse hair under his navel and pubic area.

His cock had barely begun to soften, the loud ringing in his ears starting to fade when he came to a startling realization.

You'd whimpered his name— his stage name— as you hit your peak.

Simon quickly rewinds the video back a couple of seconds and watches intently as your hand stutters, frothy white desire at the base dribbling down in viscous drops (seriously, just a taste), your breath hitches, and—

There.

A warbled, slurred Ghost.

Well, well. Lucky him. He sends you a hefty tip, (for your service, pet) and turns on notifications for your profile. He'd hate to miss a live video of yours.

(His mind is already whirring with the thought of fucking you on his bed, just to see for himself if you really can take him the way you did the replica.)

[acid-ixx]

blind to the love which gently grazed you. (again &. again drabble)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; discord server !

writing for how the reader confronts alfred about how they knew from the start of bruce's identity as batman has got to be my breaking point, because they genuinely, undeniably believed that that must be the reason why he never seems to have time for them, why he's always busy; busy mourning for you dead brother jason, busy saving the city—

busy saving the world.

too busy to even notice his own child.

all those years, living in delusive naivety, they only realized how imperceptible their presence was until it was far too late.

and yet they still chose to be kind, still.

in a world full of darkness, in a city fueled by imposing cruelty, his child wasn't the light that bruce sees at the end of a tunnel, but they were the flecks of sunshine spilling through the splitting fissures of the solitary cave the dark knight secludes himself in.

something to give you hope for, but something you barely perceive.

unless you look hard enough at the cracks to see just how that dim glow makes your life a little bit brighter.

— they always accompany alfred in his task to help fix bruce up after every grueling patrol.

not just because they were used to treating their own mother, but because, in the mind of this hopeful five year old, was a love so deeply instilled for their distant father, for a family that they've only seen through television interviews and news headlines.

so whenever bruce gets sick, or injured, concussed, maybe dislocated some joints; where he suffers through physical turmoil beyond the point where he wouldn't remember what had happened the prior day— somehow, this little kid is always on standby, learning how to wrap gauze onto his bleeding sides, watching alfred demonstrate the proper ways to disinfect bleeding cuts on a barely conscious bruce.

they'd listen profusely at alfred's unofficial lessons, always on alert at whenever bruce breaths too sharply, squeezing his palms for when he nearly dozes off, sitting by his side, sometimes resting their forehead against his perspiring ones whenever alfred has to stitch up any cuts, just to comfort him, even if by just a little.

and day by day, week by week, until months stretched past years, they slowly gain the confidence to fully hold bruce, to hug him faintly in his bed when they feel afraid, when he's unconscious and barely breathing, when they fear they'll lose their only father.

bruce, in turn, came to acclimate to this gentleness.

because instead of the familiar, aged wrinkles of alfred's hands patching him up, bruce would then feel smaller palms gently cupping his warm face after the butler ruled out another fever, even if he was close-eyed, to the brink of nearly passing out, there would be a delicate graze buzzing warmth on his bruised skin. unprofessional, unlike alfred, but curious fingers would apply ointment to treat his burns, inexperienced hands would relieve the ache in his shoulder—

he was treated with a gentleness which reminds him of how his mother used to run her fingers through his unruly hair. when she'd cup his face and pinch his cheeks playfully, kissing the crown of his head, softly, slowly, gently.

lost in the passage of time.

a gentleness he's forgotten after the grueling years of her death, a gentleness his own forgotten child inherited from his late mother.

a tender touch he's long forgotten.

somehow, bruce has come to like this foreign touch.

somehow, bruce, in all his due diligence, his skills and talents, would never notice this forgotten kindness, for maybe he's deluded himself once more, that the gentle hands which held him were his mother's and not his own spawn; because he'll never believe for there to be a time that a child of his — of him, who's oh-so undeniably broken, so incredibly flawed — can be as gentle as the warm arms which used to circle around his once tiny body.

somehow, bruce finds himself comforted in these small moments.

after he'd lost jason, after dick moved out, lived a life of his own, after everything the world throws at him, pain, loss, grief— in his moments of sickness, in times where his body is falling apart, when all he wants to do is close his eyes and see his parents in his dreams, to find his mother waiting longingly for him at the other side with open arms and her kind smile, he could at least be vulnerable at the familiar graze of this kind stranger.

somehow, bruce never realized this unknowing affection for a love he's never seen.

and somehow, this tradition of this little kid helping their family members — through treating their physical injuries, comforting them when they're on the verge of losing their breath, or sometimes even just listening to their woes — lives on until they realize how there will never be somebody as close to them as they were one-sidedly close to everyone else.

a kind ghost stalking through the halls, a friend who listens to everyone, but never having someone to return that kindness.

and i think about that a lot.

a reader who isn't a textbook definition of a hero within their family, but in more ways than one, their compassion to care for the sick — despite being hurt themself, despite never having anyone else to treat their bleeding heart, despite the fact that they've never been held so close, never been seen for way longer than a minute — someone who cares ultimate for bruce, not just because he was a father, their father in their eyes, but because they also cared for the batman.

because, despite it all, they're still their father's child.

and bruce wayne, no matter how ruined his image may be in their eyes, no matter the fact that he's never seen them, spent time with them beyond the moments where he's sick and needed comfort, when he acts like the little boy who had knelt and cried over his parents' cold corpses— was just a man who loved gotham too much he couldn't love you.

and you are your father's child, you love too much, too, to even love yourself.

a selflessness so innately instilled into you, (name) wayne. a compassion, a profound sense of tenderness you inherited not just from your own father but his late parents too. care for the sick, care for the pained, care but not for yourself.

and i think about it too much.

the flawed similarities between you and bruce. how, just like two magnets, the same sides would always repel. how in a game of twisted fate, the closest you'll ever be with your father is when he's never seen you, when he's too broken from a fight, too tired to even open his eyes and see.

see how it's always you who looks at him, how you once looked up to him. see himself in your eyes, see his greatest failure as bruce wayne, and realize just how much of your youth he's lost.

how much you reflected the more tender parts of him — the parts of him he's hidden, a part of him which long since felt foreign, like you — how much you reflected his mother, too.

but he never did, for the closest he'll ever be to his first, biological kin— is when he's blind to the hands which gently graze his skin.

a/n: just a little drabble i wrote in less than 30 minutes. i apologize for the delays in writing, i'm going through so much mental issues, so much projects, so much of everything in such a short period of time. for those in my discord server, they're probably aware. anyways, late happy father's day. otherwise, take this little dissection i have of bruce and his child, based off of my own experience with my father who was also 99% absent in my life. i wanted to give the reader more dimension and not just define them as just "neglected", so i explored some dynamics too.

as much as i like nonchalant, maybe asshole-like readers. i also like characters with so much compassion, not in a self serving way but something that's just naturally them. someone who's angry, traumatized, yes, but once they were kind, they were gentle. it makes it worse for the batfam to have a reader who was once a ball of joy.

[jaysng]

(🍒) — making up | park jongseong

after a heated argument, jay unexpectedly shows up at your window on a rainy night, leaving you shocked and scrambling to figure out what he’s thinking. [wc: 1.8k]

PAIRING. boyfriend!loverboy!jay x girlfriend!reader

GENRE. fluff (mentions of argument idk?)

NOTE. why is it so hard to find red icons, this one doesn’t even match ikik. i personally like this story hehe.

it was nearing midnight when you finally finished your last math problem. the rain pattered softly against the window, filling your quiet room with a soothing rhythm. you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your tired eyes as your thoughts began to wander again.

no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept circling back to earlier today. to the argument.

it hadn’t ended well—not with an apology, not even with understanding. just sharp words exchanged and the sting of his retreating back. you hated leaving things like that, but pride had gotten the better of both of you. now, you were stuck replaying it, dissecting every detail, and wondering why he hadn’t called to fix things.

a sudden thud against your window snapped you out of your thoughts. you froze, heart immediately pounding.

what the hell was that?

the sound came again, softer this time, like a deliberate knock. panic rose in your chest as you stared at the closed curtains. it was late. no one should be at your window. especially not with your parents just down the hall.

slowly, you approached the window, your fingers trembling slightly as you hesitated at the edge of the curtain. taking a cautious peek, you gasped, your heart lurching.

“jay?” you mouthed, your voice barely audible in your shock.

sure enough, there he was, standing on the narrow ledge outside, drenched from head to toe. his dark hair clung to his forehead, raindrops rolling down his face, and his hoodie was soaked through, heavy with water. he raised a hand, giving you a sheepish wave, as if this were the most casual thing in the world.

you scrambled to unlock the window, sliding it open just enough to grab the front of his hoodie and yank him inside.

“jay!” you hissed, barely keeping your voice down as he stumbled into your room. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“nice to see you too,” he said, brushing a hand through his wet hair and looking entirely too composed for someone who had just climbed up a window in the rain.

“no, seriously, what are you thinking?” you demanded, your eyes wide as you stared at him in disbelief. “you could’ve hurt yourself, or—” you glanced anxiously at the door. “my parents could’ve caught you! are you insane?”

jay held up his hands in surrender, his lips twitching into a small smile. “relax, okay? i’m fine. no scratches, no bruises. just a little wet.”

“a little?” you shot back, gesturing at the puddle forming beneath his shoes. “jay, you’re soaked! what if you slipped or—”

“hey, i’m fine,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders. his thumbs brushed against the fabric of your sweater, his touch firm but calming. “breathe. i promise i’m okay.”

you glared at him, but your worry got the better of you as your eyes scanned him for any sign of injury. he was fine, thankfully, but that didn’t make his stunt any less ridiculous.

“why are you here?” you asked, your voice softer now but no less bewildered. “it’s late, it’s raining, and—” you lowered your voice to a whisper. “you know how my parents are.”

jay’s lips tugged into a smile, but this one was smaller, almost shy. he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before he met your eyes again.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “not after earlier. not after the way we left things.”

your heart clenched.

“jay…”

“i’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping closer. his hands dropped from your shoulders to your waist, and his eyes were steady, sincere. “i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have walked away like that. i shouldn’t have said half the things i did. you didn’t deserve that.”

you swallowed, your throat suddenly tight. “you didn’t either,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice.

jay shook his head. “it doesn’t matter. i just… i needed to fix this. to see you.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. his words hung heavy in the air, and despite your frustration, the warmth in your chest grew.

after a moment, jay shifted awkwardly, as if suddenly remembering how drenched he was. he rubbed the back of his neck again, glancing toward his hoodie pocket before looking back at you.

“also…” he started, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “i, uh, brought you something.”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

his hand slipped into his pocket, rummaging around for a second before he pulled something out. at first, you couldn’t tell what it was, but when he held it up, your breath hitched.

it was a familiar little tube.

“is that… my lip gloss?”

jay nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. “well, not yours. it’s the one you said you ran out of last week. figured you’d need it, so… i got you another.”

you stared at him, completely floored. “you climbed up my window… in the rain… for lip gloss?”

he winced slightly at your tone. “well, yeah. it’s your favorite shade, isn’t it?”

you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. the absurdity of the situation was almost too much, but so was the fact that he remembered—a random little detail you’d mentioned in passing.

“you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, taking the tube from his hand.

“i know,” he said, his grin widening. “but you love me anyway.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “don’t push it.”

jay chuckled, his hands finding your waist again as he pulled you closer. “i mean it, though,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “i’m sorry, y/n. for everything. i hate fighting with you.”

“i hate it too,” you admitted quietly.

he tilted his head, his gaze searching yours. “then let’s not do it anymore, okay? or at least, let’s not leave things like that again.”

you nodded, the sincerity in his voice making your chest ache. “deal.”

jay smiled, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “good. now, can i stay here until the rain stops, or are you kicking me out?”

you sighed, pretending to think. “depends. are you going to make a puddle on my floor the whole time?”

he laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “i’ll try not to.”

“fine,” you said, stepping back to grab a towel from your closet. “but if we get caught, you’re explaining yourself.”

“deal,” he said again, his grin teasing. “but for now, i’ll just enjoy being here with you.”

and as much as you wanted to stay annoyed, you couldn’t help but smile.

you tossed the towel at him, watching as he caught it with a grin that was entirely too proud. “dry off before you catch a cold, romeo,” you muttered, crossing your arms to feign annoyance, though the corners of your lips betrayed you.

he ruffled his hair with the towel, his wet strands sticking up in every direction. “romeo, huh? that’s new.”

“don’t get used to it,” you quipped, looking away, suddenly all too aware of how small the room felt with him standing so close.

he dropped the towel onto the chair behind him and stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “you’re cute when you’re pretending to be mad at me,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that familiar, gentle tone that always made your heart skip.

“i’m not pretending,” you shot back, but the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

jay’s lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “yeah? then why’s your face turning red?”

your breath hitched, and you took a step back instinctively, bumping into the edge of your desk. “it’s not—i’m not—”

“shy, huh?” he teased, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. “you’re adorable, you know that?”

you looked down, your cheeks burning as you tried to hide the flustered smile tugging at your lips. “you’re insufferable,” you mumbled.

jay tilted your chin up gently, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “and you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.”

your breath caught, your eyes meeting his. there was something in his gaze—something soft and unyielding all at once. his sincerity was overwhelming, and you didn’t know what to do with it.

“jay…” you started, your voice barely a whisper.

“i mean it,” he interrupted, his hands settling on your waist, holding you as if you were something fragile. “you don’t even know, do you? how perfect you are. how lucky i am.”

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “stop it,” you murmured, trying to look away again, but his hand cupped your cheek, keeping your eyes on him.

“why?” he asked, his tone soft but teasing. “am i making you shy again?”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, though your voice had no real bite to it.

“and yet, you love me,” he said with a grin, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

your protests died in your throat as he closed the distance, his lips brushing yours in the gentlest, most tender kiss. it was slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. his hands stayed steady on your waist, grounding you in the moment, while yours hesitated before finally resting against his chest.

when he pulled back just slightly, his forehead pressed against yours, you could still feel the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. “i’m sorry for making you upset,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain tapping against the window.

your chest tightened, the weight of his sincerity hitting you all at once. “i forgive you,” you whispered back. “but you’re still crazy for climbing up here like that.”

jay chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “what can i say? you’re worth the risk.”

you rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re everything,” he murmured, kissing you again, this time with a little more certainty.

you melted into him, the world outside fading away as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. for a moment, nothing else mattered—not the rain, not the argument, not even the fear of getting caught. it was just him.

© jaysng 2024 | do not repost or plagiarize.

[ccupcakqs]

hi soo i love your writing sm and i was wondering would you be open to write something about kimi teaching female reader how to makeout??

— lesson plan ౨ৎ✧˚

warnings: first time makeout, heavy kissing, mutual pining pairing: kimi antonelli x inexperienced female reader a/n: holy shit anon

“so you’ve never made out before?”

kimi says it so casually, you almost miss the question. he’s sitting with one leg folded beneath him, hoodie sleeves pushed up, gaze steady on you from where he leans back against your pillows. his tone is light, neutral, but the way he’s watching you feels heavier than that.

“not really,” you admit, eyes fixed on your fingers. “just... one kiss. a long time ago. and it barely counted.”

kimi tilts his head. “not counting is fair. some kisses don’t mean anything. they don’t leave anything behind.”

your heart picks up speed. “but the good ones do?”

his mouth twitches into a soft half-smile. “the good ones ruin you a little.”

you blink. “oh.”

he shifts toward you, careful, slow. not pushing anything, just changing the angle. “want me to teach you?”

you hesitate. your mouth opens, closes. you look down at your lap and then back at him. “you’re not messing with me?”

“never.”

your voice is smaller than you want it to be. “then yeah. i want to learn.”

kimi reaches for you gently, fingers brushing your knee. “first thing you do is relax. you can’t kiss someone right if your whole body’s tensed up.”

you laugh nervously. “i’m not tense.”

he raises an eyebrow.

“okay, fine, i’m a little tense,” you admit. “what if i can’t relax?”

“then maybe you’re not kissing the right person,” he says, still smiling.

you look at him — really look — and something low in your stomach twists.

“close your eyes,” he murmurs. “just breathe for a second.”

you do. the silence settles between you like soft pressure. your breathing evens out. his thumb draws a slow circle against your knee.

“next step,” he says. “tilt your head a little. doesn’t matter which way. just not straight on. trust me, nose collisions are awkward.”

you smile with your eyes still closed. “got it. no nose-bumps.”

“and start slow. no one likes being rushed. feel it first. build it.”

your eyes open slowly. “and what about breathing?”

kimi leans in, just slightly. “through your nose. if you forget and breathe through your mouth, you’ll run out of air and have to pull back. not the worst thing in the world, but it does ruin the flow.”

you nod. “okay. tilt, slow, breathe. and... do we just start?”

“only if you want to.”

you shift closer on the bed, knees brushing. your heart feels like it’s sitting high in your chest. “i want to.”

he tilts his head slightly. “good. then come here.”

you lean in. carefully. cautiously. he meets you halfway, his hand rising to cradle your cheek with a gentleness that makes your ribs ache.

his lips press to yours, soft and slow. there’s no rush in it. just warmth. just the quiet pressure of his mouth moving against yours like he’s reading something written there.

you melt into him before you realize you’ve done it.

his fingers slip from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you in place just enough to deepen the kiss. his mouth opens slightly and you follow, matching him, mirroring the slow rhythm he sets.

you feel the tip of his tongue graze yours and your breath catches. your hand finds his hoodie, gripping at the fabric like an anchor.

he pulls back, just enough to whisper, “okay?”

you nod. “yeah. keep going.”

his lips find yours again, this time more confidently. his tongue slips into your mouth, slow and hot and steady. your knees shift, bringing you closer. your thigh slides over his and you don’t realize you’re half in his lap until he groans softly into your mouth.

your hands are in his hair now, threading through soft strands, pulling him closer like you can’t help it.

kimi kisses like he’s trying to memorize you — like every movement is mapped and deliberate. one hand stays on your waist, the other strokes down your back, trailing warmth.

you press forward. your hips shift, brushing against him.

he breaks the kiss for a second, breathing hard. “you’re doing better than good.”

you smile against his lips. “you’re a good teacher.”

he exhales a soft laugh and pulls you into his lap properly. your knees bracket his thighs now, straddling him, chest to chest.

your lips meet again, harder this time. he kisses you deep and slow, tongue sliding over yours, lips slick and warm.

your hips shift again, testing the movement, and he tightens his grip on your waist in response.

“fuck,” he mutters. “keep doing that.”

you do.

your body moves against his without thinking. the rhythm is instinct now. your hands tug his hoodie slightly, wanting more contact, more friction, more of him.

kimi’s mouth drops to your jaw, then down to your throat, kissing softly at the edge of your collarbone. you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair.

“is this okay?” he murmurs.

you nod fast. “yes. god. yes.”

he pulls you tighter against him. your thighs ache, your lips are swollen, your chest is pressed to his like it’s the only way you can breathe right.

“how does it feel?” he asks into your neck.

you can’t find the words at first. everything is heat and pressure and the heady spin of having him this close.

“like i’m not gonna forget it,” you manage.

kimi pulls back, just enough to look at you. his eyes are dark now, blown wide. his hands are still on your hips, steady and warm.

“you won’t,” he says softly. “i won’t either.”

you kiss him again. not soft this time. you push your mouth to his like you mean it. like you’re not afraid anymore.

he kisses back even harder.

you lose track of time after that. the world narrows to breath and heat and the way your bodies move together. his hands stroke your thighs. yours explore under his hoodie. he never pushes too far. never rushes. just pulls you deeper into him until there’s no space left.

when you finally pull apart, gasping slightly, his thumb traces your bottom lip.

“you’re unreal,” he whispers.

you’re still breathing hard. your voice is quiet. “did i pass?”

kimi smiles. “top of the class.”

your head drops to his shoulder as your body settles, finally realizing how much you were shaking. he holds you there, arms around your waist, one hand stroking your back lazily.

“you’re a good student,” he says again, softer this time.

“you’re a good teacher,” you whisper back.

you don’t move for a long time. you just breathe, legs tangled, skin warm.

© ccupcakqs. all work written by me. DO NOT PLAGIARISE!