#tw : cheating

[uglyshoes]

warning —> nsfw :: cheating

toji is grimy and does not give a fuck if you have a boyfriend, he'll even admit the thought of taking what another man has dubbed his 'property' is an arousing one. he's been a thief, you knew this!

leaving your house after telling your man you're going out with the girls, just for him to watch you get into tojis front seat, who has the audacity to wave your boyfriend goodbye alongside you. that's just one of your friends mans... right?

you come home all sweet and sated, like you've really worn yourself out... and when your man tries to initiate sex, he finds you already soaking wet.

"this all for me?" he asks, swiping his fingers through your folds to circle your clit with the slick. "you must've been so needy for me all day to be this wet, baby."

"yeah," you feign, unsure just how to tell your boyfriend that the fingers he's bringing to his lips to suck clean are covered in toji's second and third load of the day.

maybe he doesn't need to know.

[asgard23]

Nothing Left To Fall From Part 3

Thor x Reader

Warning: mentions of rape, depression, trauma, angst, fluff, smut, inaccurate timelines.

Be prepared for lots of flashbacks lol

PT.1,PT.2

As you stepped off the Bifrost, you felt like you were waking from a long sleep into a world that hadn’t forgotten you. The air was fresher here, vibrant. You inhaled deeply, feeling as though this air might fill the vacant spaces within you.

Beside you, stood Thor. He had been gentle, offering his arm, explaining the journey, never pushing you to speak more than you could manage. Thor introduced you to Heimdall as he stood at the entrance like a sentinel. He was a man whose presence commanded respect. He nodded a greeting to both of you, his eyes seeming to look right through the surface. You felt small under his watchful eyes, as if he could see the fears you clutched tightly in your chest. You returned his nod, trying to summon strength, even though you felt like a mere shadow beside the brilliance that was  Asgard.

Thor’s arms wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you through the realm of the gods. The streets unfolded before you, golden spires reaching for the sky, mingling with laughter and energy. Asgardians moved around you, their vibrant robes swaying like leaves in a happy breeze. Their laughter rang like music, but to you, it felt like a reminder of a joy that had somehow slipped through your fingers. You clutched the simple bag containing the few things you’d brought, feeling profoundly out of place amidst such brilliance and like an impostor in their midst.

“Welcome home,” Thor said so gently it caused your blood to flow. 

Just then, Queen Frigga approached, embodying a presence that made everything else seem to quiet down. She was elegance personified, with an aura that spoke of eons of regalty. There was something about her that made you feel instantly at ease, a maternal aura that sent your emotions tumbling back to a time you thought you had locked away.

You transported back to the moment your world shifted forever. The day those dreadful aliens had torn through your life, leaving destruction in their wake and robbing you of your parents. Their faces were now just distant images in your mind. You remembered how, amidst that chaos, the Fantastic Four fought valiantly, inspiring you with their courage. They had become the beacon of hope for you as an orphan, showing that even in the darkest of times, heroes could rise.

That inspiration had forged your path. You channeled your pain into becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, vowing to protect others from experiencing the same heartache. You wanted to ensure that no other child would be left alone in a world so perilous. As you honed your skills and crafted your purpose, you found a family in the Avengers.

Caught in your thoughts, you were gently pulled back to the present. Queen Frigga’s gentle smile broke through your reverie, and for a moment, it felt as if she could sense the tumult of emotions swirling within you

"Ah, Thor, you return. And you have brought our guest," she said. "So, you are the Midgardian my son speaks about."

You looked instinctively towards Thor, and your eyes widened slightly as you noticed his face. A sudden, deep crimson had bloomed his cheeks, something you weren't used to seeing from his usual confident demeanor. Your stomach filled with butterflies. He seemed intensely focused on a point somewhere on the ground.

Frigga chuckled as she stepped closer, taking your hands gently in hers. "It is true," she said, her gaze sweeping over you with open admiration. "You are radiant, Lady Y/N. A beauty indeed."

If Thor's face had been red before, it now seemed to take on the color of a tomato. He cleared his throat and shifted his considerable weight. "Mother, please," he muttered, running a hand over the back of his neck, his ears now matching his cheeks. He looked everywhere but at either of you.

Frigga raised an eyebrow playfully, a smile touching her lips. She still held your hands, her gaze  dancing with mirth as she addressed her son. "You seem suddenly quite warm, are you well?" she jested, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Thor shifted his weight again; he seemed to shrink by half under his mother's gaze. He avoided your eyes carefully. "I am... perfectly well, Mother," he managed. "The air is simply... err... thick today. Perhaps a little... humid."

Frigga's smile widened, but she mercifully turned back to you. She gave your hands a gentle squeeze. "Welcome, Lady Y/N. Our home is your home," she says sincerely.

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Frigga, being the graceful host that she was, had ensured every detail catered to your comfort fresh flowers bloomed in pretty vases, servants to tend to your wants and needs. You often found yourself gazing out at the sweeping views of Asgard’s shining spires, the endless sky stretching.

"Are you ready, Lady Y/N?" Thor asks, the usual charm radiating from him, filling the doorway of your solar. You grin so wide your cheeks ache. This has become your daily normal. Every single morning, without fail, Thor is there.

He’s there to sweep you into a new adventure across the city or elsewhere. He’s there when the darkness threatens to crowd in, sitting quietly by your side, sometimes holding your hand if you let him, other times distracting you with tales of his youth. He’ll stay with you in your room for hours if you need him to, creating a bubble of safety around you that you hadn’t realized you desperately needed.

Gradually, dark circles began to lessen. Color returned to your complexion, replaced by a healthy fullness. You smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Sleep came easier, the nightmares less frequent, less vivid. The torture of the betrayal of Nat and Bucky and their sounds of pleasure that used to cause you agony still surfaced, but it no longer consumed you completely. Time truly does heal, and months passed by in the blink of an eye.

You began to notice the small wonders. How the sun hit the leaves in the Royal Gardens, painting everything in gold and emerald. Or how you initiate spending time with others. And then…you began to notice Thor.

You'd see him talking animatedly with guards, sharing a laugh with servants. But what really snagged your attention, was when he was around children. You remember from just days ago,you were both in the main courtyard. A group of young kids, probably noble-born based on their fine clothes, were chasing a colourful, winged creature. They were giggling, just out of reach. Thor saw the scene, and a huge grin split his face.

He dropped a scroll he was holding onto a nearby bench and crouched down, lowering his massive frame to their level, his cape pooling around him. He joined in and started making silly, monster noises, carefully lumbering after the children, pretending to be slow and clumsy. One little girl squealed and ran towards him, hiding behind his leg. He gently wrapped an arm around her, his hand huge compared to her little shoulder, and peered around his leg with exaggerated dramatic effect.

For a split second, the world tilted. The courtyard shimmered, replaced by green grass under a different sky, a familiar, slightly humid Earth breeze. The sound of Thor's laugh faded, 

You were sitting on a park bench, watching Bucky. He was a little distance away, near a small playground structure. Steve had somehow wrangled them into chaperoning a field trip for some kids from a youth center he volunteered at. Bucky had been awkward at first, visibly tense when the kids eyed his metal arm with fascination. But then, one brave little boy, maybe six years old, had tumbled off the bottom step of the slide, landing with a surprised 'oof!'. Before you or the supervisor could react, Bucky was there. He didn't scoop him up roughly like a soldier would. Instead, he dropped to one knee, getting right down to the boy's level. He checked him over carefully, his eyes scanning for tears or scrapes.

"Hey, buddy," Bucky said softly. "You okay? That was a bit of a fall."

The boy sniffled but nodded, pointing to his knee. " scraped it a little."

Bucky nodded slowly. "Yeah, looks like it. Been there." He reached out his flesh hand, not the metal one, and offered it. "Want a boost?"

The boy hesitated for only a second, then took Bucky's hand. Bucky helped him up gently, steadying him. As the supervisor hurried over with a first-aid kit, Bucky stayed crouched there, his guard just... lower than you usually saw it.

You stood up from the bench and walked over, standing near him.

"Sergeant Barnes, making friends?" you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips.

He glanced up at you, that hint of vulnerability still in his eyes before he masked it slightly. "Someone's gotta look out for the troops," he said, but there was no sarcasm.

The little boy, now getting a SpongeBob band-aid applied by the supervisor, looked up at Bucky again. "Is... is your arm strong?"

Bucky looked at the metal arm for a moment. "Yeah," he said simply. "It is."

Instead of just answering, he carefully extended the metal arm just a tiny bit, bending the fingers slowly. "See? Just a really fancy arm." He wiggled the fingers slightly.

The boy's eyes widened. "Whoa."

Another couple of kids, bolder now, crept closer, eyes fixed on the limb.

Bucky didn't flinch away. He stayed put, letting them look, answering their questions. He even tapped the metal against the palm of his flesh hand softly, making a quiet 'thunk' sound, which earned more 'whoas'. He was showing them it wasn't scary, that it was just part of him.

He looked up at you again, a shy smile forming. "They're pretty cool kids," he said, his voice even quieter now.

"You're pretty cool with them," you responded, your own smile gentle. You reached out and lightly touched his shoulder. "See? Big softie under all that metal and brooding."

His smile deepened slightly. He didn't say anything more about himself, but his gaze held yours. Watching him connect so unexpectedly, so gently, with these little humans, your heart had nearly exploded. He was capable of so much kindness that he never gave himself credit for.

You blinked, the Asgardian courtyard snapping back into focus. Thor was hoisting the little girl onto his shoulder, carefully, so she could reach out and just touch the winged creature that had finally landed on a nearby railing. 

The differencet from the flashback wasn't in their actions, both big, powerful men lowering themselves patiently showing children something new or comforting them. No, the difference was the feeling the flashback now brought. It was bittersweet. The memory of that Bucky was so good, so full of promise.

But that Bucky had also been the one who had broken you. The gentle hands that steadied a child. They also belonged to the same man who had tangled in the sheets with your best friend. The image of Nat and Bucky, the sounds that had haunted your nightmares for months, rushed back, less potent than they used to be, but still a cold splash of reality.

That tender Bucky? He was a memory. A painful lesson about how easily things could shatter. He belonged in the past, filed away with the agony he'd caused.

You looked at Thor again, still laughing as the little girl giggled on his shoulder. There was no shadow in his eyes, no haunted past clinging to him in the same way. And as the days past that became refreshing.

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It’s incredibly sweet, almost overwhelming, to feel the sheer level of care he pours into you. It makes a tiny, hopeful part of you wonder... could he possibly have feelings for you? No, you immediately shut that thought down. That couldn't be right. Absolutely not.

Yes, you and Thor had always shared a connection that had even managed to make Bucky green with jealousy. Thor seemed to see things in you that you couldn't even perceive in yourself. But surely that was just his kind heart wasn’t it? He was just being a good friend, a welcoming host. Surely the God of Thunder couldn't possibly fancy you? A mortal still picking up the shattered pieces of her life?

Your thoughts are pulled abruptly from their anxious spiral as Thor clears his throat,”Come, Y/N! There are others eager to make your acquaintance."

He steps aside, gesturing down the hallway, and a rush of anticipation mixes with a heep of nerves in your stomach. He talks about them often, his friends, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. He's told you they're eager to meet the mortal Thor speaks about so often. You take a deep breath and step out of your room, Thor falling into step beside you.

The Hall of Heroes rang with laughter and the clatter of tankards. Thor's arm was light on your back as he steered you towards a knot of figures gathered around a table filled with food and drink.

"Friends!" Thor exclaimed, easily cutting through the revelry. The group turned, "I have brought the one I spoke of! Y/N, meet my dearest companions!"

He gestured expansively. "Lady Sif, Hogun, Volstagg Volstagg slapped his considerable belly and bent slightly to greet you. "And Fandral the Dashing." Fandral swept into a low, dramatic bow that made the others chuckle.

"The pleasure is entirely mine," Fandral said, straightening with a glint in his eye, directed at you. "Though Thor's descriptions scarcely did you justice. He mentioned courage, yes, but neglected to mention such... beautiful company."

You felt heat creep up your neck, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. It was smooth, maybe a little cheesy, but delivered with such confidence, it was hard not to be charmed. "Thank you, Sir Fandral. You're too kind."

"I am merely stating the truth,M’Lady" he said smoothly, adjusting his stance to lean against the table, his gaze lingering longer then Thor would like.

Volstagg roared with laughter. "Ho ho! He speaks of the truth! A rare occurrence for Fandral when a beautiful face is present!" He scooped up a whole roasted bird leg. "Welcome, friend Y/N! Is the food on Midgard truly as... flavourless as Thor sometimes claims?"

"Volstagg, you have eaten a shoe and declared it only 'mildly disappointing'," Sif said dryly, stepping forward. Her eyes met yours.  "Ignore their jesting. Any who can keep pace with our Thor, or keep him from tumbling headfirst into trouble, is a friend to us. Welcome to Asgard."

Your chest fely airy, chasing away the familiar, tight knot of anxiety that often resided there the past few months. This feels... easy. It was like stepping back in time, momentarily forgetting the treachery, forgetting the chilling sensation of a stranger's touch. 

Thor chuckled beside you as he gently nudged Fandral with his elbow. "Leave off, Fandral. You will make our guest uncomfortable with your silver tongue so soon." His gaze met yours, and in his striking blue eyes, you could tell that he felt relief that you were here, that you were fitting in.

"Uncomfortable?" Fandral feigned shock. "Surely, Lady Y/N is accustomed to such... pleasantries?" He winked.

You just laughed finding his words amusing. "Not usually delivered with quite so much flourish, no," you admitted.

"A challenge!" Fandral declared dramatically. "I shall endeavor to increase my flourish."

Volstagg offered you the roasted bird leg he was holding. "Take! Eat! Do not let Fandral distract you from the proper sustenance!"

You took a bite, finding the flavor to be smoky. "This is incredible," you said around a mouthful.

"See!" Volstagg exclaimed, wagging a finger at Thor. "Midgardians do appreciate proper food! Your claims are scandalous!"

Thor just grinned, shaking his head. He rested his hand lightly on your shoulder again.

As the banter flowed around you. It reminded you of the rhythm at the Tower the found family that had mended so many broken parts of you before... before everything shattered. You missed them fiercely. You missed the way they looked out for each other, the way they belonged together despite being so different.

And here, with Thor's hand on your shoulder,you felt it again. That sense of belonging.

Gratitude overcame you; Thor had brought you here. His friends, his family, had opened their circle. You smiled a smile that reached your eyes, and turned slightly into Thor's side. And he immediately returns it.

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Later that evening, you find yourself walking alone in the palace gardens. You sit on a stone bench by a fountain, watching the water ripple, and the quiet allows the thoughts back in.

The lingering bitterness from the pain, and the shock that someone you loved and trusted so deeply could do that. It’s a wound you’re still figuring out how to close. And the other… the violation. It surfaces sometimes without warning. You’re learning to breathe through it, to remind yourself you are strong, you are not defined by what happened. Being here, in this place with Thor is helping. It’s like finding solid ground after being sucked up from an endless tornado.

You look up to find Thor standing there. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just looks at you, his gaze soft.

"The quiet calls to you?" he asks.

You nod, offering a small smile. "Sometimes it's needed. To... process things."

He sits beside you, giving you space, the silence stretches, not awkward, but companionable. You feel safe enough to let some of the exhaustion show on your face, let your shoulders relax a little.

"They liked you," he says finally, breaking the silence. "My friends."

"I liked them too," you reply. "They remind me a bit of the team. It's nice to feel welcomed."

He nods, understanding graced  his eyes. He reaches out, hesitantly, and gently covers your hand where it rests on the bench. His touch sending a pleasant tingle up your arm.

"You are welcome here, Y/N," he says, his voice is deeper if that is even possible. "Always. Consider this your home now, if you wish it. We... I... am glad you are here."

You look into in his eyes, and your heart tilts. Maybe the God of Thunder could fancy you. 

You squeeze his hand lightly in return,his unspoken feelings that are becoming harder and harder to ignore. The night air is cool, the stars starting to appear, but sitting here beside Thor, you feel serenity. 

You were not alone anymore.

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Thor had told you of pools fed by ancient springs, blessed with magic that soothed the body and spirit. One evening, feeling the pull you sought out the legendary healing waters for yourself. You found one nestled in a secluded glade, the water glistened under the moonlight.

Hesitantly, you shed the beautiful Asgardian gown Frigga had helped you choose earlier that day. It felt liberating to be naked, exposed not to prying eyes or violent hands. You stepped into the water. It was surprisingly warm,melting away the last vestiges of tension in your muscles. You sank deeper, letting the water rise to your neck, tilting your head back to gaze at the star-dusted sky visible through the canopy of trees.

You closed your eyes. As you randomly thought of them..  You missed Nat. You would have loved to tell her about Asgard, about its wonders. And Bucky; you yearned for what had been, with mingled resentment. How much he would have loved Asgard, how he could have benefited from this peace. But that life is not possible anymore and it saddens you.

You opened your eyes.The water shimmered and danced around you as you shifted slightly. And yet you still felt... emptier in a good sort of way. Not just physically, but inside. Meanwhile Thor had been searching for you for the better part of an hour when he decided to search for you in the gardens. He saw you. Illuminated by the dual moon, water slick on your skin, your form outlined against the dark shape of the pool. Your hair, damp strands clinging to your neck and shoulders, framing your beautiful face. 

You were more then beautiful to him, radiant, like a star. He had seen countless wonders in his long life, faced creatures of unimaginable power, but none had rendered him quite so utterly speechless as you did. His breath caught in his throat. His gaze lingered, mesmerized, finding it impossible to tear his eyes away from the ethereal vision that was you.

"Radiant Lady Y/N," Thor said awkwardly, clearing his throat as he instantly spun around, presenting his broad back to you to afford you privacy.

You jumped, quickly sinking lower in the water to cover yourself. "Thor!" you stammered, your heart pounding, part surprise, part embarrassment.

"Forgive me for my... interruption," he said, his voice slightly strained, still not turning. "I... my mother and I were wondering where you had gone. We... both would be delighted if you joined us for supper."

A laugh escaped you. He was so flustered, so clearly mortified at having stumbled upon you. "Give me a moment," you said, feeling heat spread throughout your body that wasn't from the water.

You quickly retrieved your gown and dressed behind the cover of some large rocks. When you emerged, Thor finally turned, deliberately keeping his gaze above your shoulders for a moment before meeting your eyes. The awe from earlier was still there, mixed with relief that you weren't angry.

"You look... refreshed," he said, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"I feel it," you admitted, a shy smile returning to your face. "Thank you, Thor. For bringing me here. For... everything."

He offered his arm. "It is my honor, Freyja's Gleam." The nickname, as strange as it was to you, it was another thing that never failed to make you smile about Thor.

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You were walking through the training grounds with Sif, watching Thor practice with Mjolnir. The power with which he wielded the hammer was mesmerizing. Sif, walking quietly beside you, felt your attention shift. She followed your gaze to where the God of Thunder was currently sending a controlled burst of energy into a practice dummy, leaving it smoking slightly but intact. She knew that look.

A smile played on Sif's lips as she turned her head towards you. "He watches you, you know," she said, nodding subtly towards Thor, who, as if on cue, flicked his eyes your way for just a moment before returning to his practice.

You blinked, your eyes still on Thor as he retrieved Mjolnir, the hammer settling back in his hand with a thud. A familiar warmth heated the back of your neck. "He does?"

"Constantly," Sif confirmed, her smile gaining a touch of amusement.  "He has for weeks now. It's rather obvious to anyone paying attention." She paused, her expression softening. "He cares for you deeply, Y/N."

You swallowed, what felt like lava down your nervous throat. You looked back at Thor, and this time, he was already looking. His practice seemed momentarily forgotten as he met your gaze across the training field. A smile spread across his face. He just... kept looking. You couldn't help but smile back. There was no need to pretend you hadn't been watching. Not when he was looking at you like that. And he refused to look away.

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Thor cooled down after training, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, Sif approached him. You were close enough to hear, pretending to be fascinated by a nearby display of weaponry, running a finger lightly over the cool steel of various blades and axes. Your ears, however, were straining to catch every word.

“She is blossoming here, Thor,” Sif said,as she gestured subtly towards you.

“Aye,” Thor replied. “Like a flower finally seeing the sun.”

You felt a strange flutter in your chest at the analogy. Finally seeing the sun? Had you been in the dark for so long?

Sif tilted her head, tracking your movements as you paused before an axe display. Her gaze on Thor was knowing. “You fancy her.”

Thor’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, clearly caught off guard. He looked across the courtyard at you, where you were now intently examining the handle of a warhammer, feigning deep thought. You were laughing at something Fandral, who had just joined you, had said, a sound that made Thor’s expression soften.

“Sif, I... she is the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said. “She is strong, even when she believes she is broken. She is kind, even after... after all she has endured.” His voice hitched slightly on the last words. “And she... she is smiling again, Sif. Truly smiling. Gods, I missed seeing that smile.”

You froze, your hand hovering over the carvings of the axe handle. You hadn't meant to eavesdrop, truly, but their voices had carried, perfectly audible in the quiet yard. Thor...felt that way? He saw that? 

Sif’s expression softened, her playful prod giving way to that of annoyance. “Then tell her, you great oaf.”

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “How can I? She has been through so much. She is healing. She needs stability. I am but a friend, Sif. To complicate things... it feels too much…. it feels selfish. ”

“And do you think hiding it is better?” Sif countered. “Letting her think she is alone in... whatever this is?” She nodded between you and Thor again. “Perhaps your feelings are not a burden, Thor. Perhaps they are something she, too, is searching for.

Thor looked down at his hands, flexing them. “But if I am wrong? If I misread this peace she’s found? If I push her away? I cannot bear the thought of causing her any more pain, Sif.”

“Pain often comes from silence and unspoken truths, Thor,” she said.. “Not from offering your heart. She deserves to know how you see her. How you value her. Let her decide if it is ‘too much’.”

Thor remained silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you across the training grounds. You stood still frozen.He saw the real you, beneath the layers of hurt. He cherished the smile you feared had been lost forever.

He cares for you deeply, Lady Y/N. Like a flower finally seeing the sun. She is strong... she is kind... she is smiling again.

You slowly lowered your hand from the axe, your mind reeling. The chatter of Fandral faded into the background. All you could hear was Thor's confession, the earnestness in his voice. He wasn't just a friend to you. And you... You realised your own feelings for him were growing far beyond platonic. Excitement came like a tidal wave, as the desire for something more suddenly hit you.

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In the feast hall laughter bounced off the high, gold ceilings,drunken joy loud and present. Stories were spun with exaggerated gestures that you learned were just the way of Asgardians. Songs filled the space between the clinking of goblets. You watched as Fandral had a woman nestled in his lap, ale spilling down his beard as he roared with laughter sitting next to you. 

You were laughing with Lady Sif, yet your gaze kept drifting across the room. Thor stood amongst the rest of his companions. You didn’t try to hide the hunger in your eyes when they met his. His gaze, almost scorching blue, mirrored your own. It was a game you’d been playing all night as mead filled both of your bellies.

You laughed, turning back to Sif as she drunkenly sung. But the laughter died in your throat when you looked back, finding Thor’s spot empty. 

Then a sudden heat bloomed against your back. A large hand settled on your waist. You knew the power behind that touch.

"My lady," Thor's voice hummed in your ear, slightly slurred, heavy with the scent of honeyed mead. "Might we speak for a moment? There is something I wish to show you."

Sif, seated beside you, nudged your arm, a smirk playing on her lips. "Finally!" she exclaimed, her words also slurred. "I've been waiting for the day you two finally break this tension. It's thicker than Odin's beard!"

Thor chuckled. His touch made you tingle in all the right places, a dangerous tremor that bypassed your brain and went straight to your stomach. "And what could possibly be so pressing that it requires a private audience, Thor Odinson?" you asked mockingly, turning to face him, trying not to gie way too much of your arousal.

"Indeed," Sif chimed, taking another swig from her tankard.

His eyes were now darkened. "Patience, my lady, is a virtue I have never possessed when it comes to you." He offered you a flash of his white teeth. "Come. The night is young."

Only a few moments passed. Months of pushing Bucky away, of battling your own demons, of feeling utterly lost and broken…it felt like a lifetime ago.

Sif looked between the two of you, her smile grew so big that you thought her lip would rip.

"Alright," you say breathlessly. "Lead the way."

The walk to his chambers was sensory overload. The music seemed louder, the laughter more boisterous, the colors of the patrons more vivid. You passed couples locked in passionate embraces, past warriors roaring songs of victory. You saw Heimdall raise his sword in a toast as they walked by. You registered the quick glances and the assumptive smiles that followed in your wake. The world around you blurred, fading into the background as you focused on the broad back in front of you.The noise of the feast faded as Thor guided you through the labyrinth like halls of the palace. The further you got from the obnoxious crowd, the more the anticipation rose. 

His rooms were magnificent, more like a personal hall. But the size did nothing to mitigate the tension that coiled tighter with every step you both took inside. He quickly moved to secure the door so that no one would interrupt whatever you two were about to partake in. You hardly had time to see any of the hall before he turned to face you, leaning on a table, he was a mountain of a man against the light, Godlike. Well, he was a God. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss was sloppy as he nearly swallowed you whole. You returned it with equal fervor, deepening it as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

After a few moments he pulled away, his breathing ragged. "You know," his voice husky, "I saw you, bathing in the healing waters. You were naked. Utterly…beautiful. Like a vision sent from Freyja herself."

You hesitated as you took his words in. Part of you was shocked, indignant even. Another part...thrilled. To be admired… it was a sensation you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in so long.

"You were spying on me, Thor?" you asked, trying to inject a note of mock outrage into your voice, even as your pulse quickened.

He chuckled, deeply. "I would hardly call it spying. More like…admiration from afar. I could not help myself."

You let your inhibitions slip, fueled by the mead and the undeniable pull between you. "You know how many times I've envisioned climbing you like a tree, Thor?"

His eyes darkened, the blue almost disappearing into the pupils. "You must watch the words you say to me, Freya's gleam," his voice suddenly became tight. "I have little control whenever I am around you. I fear this mead has... weakened my will."

"Perhaps you shouldn't control yourself," you said, the words tumbling out before you could fully process them. This Asgardian liquid courage is glorious.

He let loose a sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan. He reached down and swept you into his arms, carrying you towards his bed. You were giggling, drunk and giddy, as he deposited you gently on the plush surface.

"My will weakens by the second," he breathed against your ear. "Is this truly what you desire?" His eyes were pleading for you to say yes.

"What is your will telling you to do to me in this moment" You pushed his hair back, looking at his intense, beautiful eyes as you lay down.

"To pleasure you, my Lady" with fervent hands, he began to unbutton your dress. Your dress was pushed over your knees, your shoulder stuck out of one of the straps. 

He leaned over you, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will leave you be."

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You saw his will weakening fast and it did not scare you in the slightest. "Don't stop," you whispered, closing your eyes.

He kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue connecting with yours. You moaned, your body arching towards his. He broke the kiss. Your vision swam as you saw him kneel at your feet. His blonde hair disappeared between your legs. 

He pushed your thighs apart, his breath warm against your skin. Your chest hitched as he dipped his head lower, he began nicking against your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider, far too desperate for more.

His tongue descended upon you as he swirled, tasting you deeply, humming in satisfaction. A moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. He lapped at you eagerly, swirling around to grasp everything he could get. You felt every bump and ridge of his tongue, electrifying sensations shooting through your body. He devoured you like a man starved, he used his tongue like it was it’s sole purpose of existing. He fucked you with his thick appendage, as he brought his thumb up to swirl around your clit.

You literally couldn't think about anything but what Thor was doing to you. You didn't notice how you didn't flinch away from the trauma when he touched you. How could you? He was much stronger than your super soldier ex. You used to love being manhandled by Bucky, but all you could think about is the innumerable ways Thor could use your body.

You were gone, lost in a world of your very own that the god of thunder created just for you. Your eyes crossed in ecstasy at the wetness of his tongue. The moment was so intoxicating, you felt as if you would ascend. You squeezed your eyes shut, as you moaned like a whore wantonly and generously which Thor soaked up.

You were close, so close. You wanted to let the pleasure consume you completely. You arched your back, pressing yourself against his mouth, begging for more.

Suddenly, you thought of Bucky and rejecting his advances. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to bury the memory, to focus on the here and now. He didn’t deserve even the slight tinge of guilt of being consumed by another.

You came so violently you nearly pushed his tongue out from how hard you were squeezing. Giving Thor a good idea of how you'd feel on his cock. You squeezed his head, your nails digging into his scalp. He didn't stop he just kept tasting, kept teasing, until you were gasping for air. You felt the climax causing you to shudder as his tongue greedily drank your release from your hole.

Overcome by your orgasmic drunken fatigue, the last thing you remembered was a blurry figure of Thor.

You closed your eyes and succumb to the darkness.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning after wasn't gentle. Your head felt like a storm giant Volstagg told you about had set up an armory inside your skull, testing hammers against anvils. It was, perhaps, the single most intense hangover you’d ever experienced, the price of being a mortal foolish enough to drink Asgardian mead.

A soft knock preceded a few quiet figures gliding into the rooms you’d been given. Servants, bearing silver trays with steaming bowls of soup and cool pitchers of water. Lady Frigga, they explained softly, had insisted you have something for your... recovery, upon learning you wouldn't be joining the royal family for the morning meal. You thanked them, managing a weak smile, and they retreated, leaving you alone with the much-needed remedy and the quiet, persistent ache that went beyond your pounding temples. Eating with them would have meant facing Thor, facing the memory of the previous night, in the harshness of the day. You remember waking up in your room, although you fell asleep in Thor's chambers. You weren't ready. You had too many thoughts. 

You were tracing the rim of the soup bowl when a familiar, imposing shadow fell over you again. Thor walked towards you, his expression unreadable from where you sat huddled on the comfy cushions. The servants who had been tidying nearby bowed low as he gave them a slight nod, dismissing them without a word. The quiet stretched between you with unspoken words.

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze searching yours. “About last night, my lady, I must–” he began.

You stopped him, cutting him off before he could perhaps apologize. “I don’t,” you said, your voice a little hoarse. “I don’t regret it, Thor. I… I am just scared.”

He took a step closer, then another, before sinking onto one knee beside where you sat. Even kneeling, his god-like form still a hulking frame over you. He reached out, his large hand gently covering yours where it rested on the bowl’s edge. His skin was warm. His eyes spoke of passion as he looked directly into yours.

“Scared?” he prompted softly.

You felt the familiar tremor start in your hands. “Scared to feel anything like that again,” you whispered, squeezing his hand slightly. “Scared to trust it. After… after him.” The image seared behind your eyelids, your heart had cracked open and spilled out onto that training room floor. It had hurt in a way you hadn’t thought possible. And after last night it made you feel vulnerable and you wanted to feel literally anything else. Because feeling pleasure, feeling desired, feeling cared for by him... it felt like stepping onto ice already beginning to crack even if you are healing.

“He hurt you deeply,” Thor said, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. It wasn't a question. He saw it. 

You nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “More than I knew was possible. He wasn't the person I thought he was.” Your chest tightened.. “And Nat….” The second backstabber, maybe even worse in some ways, pierced you just as brutally. “To see them… together…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “And then… then I come here, and I feel… this.” You gestured vaguely between you. “And it’s… It’s terrifying. Because what if I let myself… let myself feel for you, Thor? What if I let myself fall, and it happens again? What if I break even more?” The words fumbled out.

“Lady Y/N,” Thor responds. “I cannot speak for the hearts of men, nor for the betrayals they may commit.” “But I can speak for this one.” He pressed your hand gently. “My heart… it has been drawn to yours for a long time. Long before last night.” He inclined his head slightly. He paused, swallowing. “To witness your commendable resilience, even when you feel broken, is an honor.” His voice was quiet now, you could practically see his mind reaching to gather his frantic thoughts.

 “And I… I do not regret it either. Not for a moment.” His eyes flitted between yours. “Nor do I,” he repeated. He seemed poised, ready to say more. “Lady Y/N, I–”

A firmer knock came. A servant, looking more urgent than the last came rushing in. “Excuse me, your majesty,” he said, bowing to Thor, then to you. “But Heimdall carries a message of importance. For you, and for the Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s expression tightened. He was clearly annoyed at the interruption, about to dismiss the servant, when you reached out and placed a hand on his arm. It was a gesture that caused him to pause—that caused him to melt. You needed a distraction from the precipice of your fear and from the intensity building between you and Thor.

“What is the message?” you asked.

The servant relayed a direct quote from the All-Seer. “It is from the Man of Iron, Lady Y/N. He says… ‘We know you needed space, but… things are complicated here. It's... we need you. The team...Y/N. You and Thor. We need you both home.’”

Dread tumbled past the lingering fog of your hangover. Home. To them. The team… yes, they were family. You missed the dynamic you used to have with Nat and the team, the chemistry you used to share with Bucky. But going back meant facing the two people who had done the unthinkable. It meant seeing Nat’s face, knowing she had slept with the man she knew you loved, the man you had loved. It meant seeing the man whose betrayal had left you with the bad kind of emptiness.

It leaves you wondering if the look in his eyes would hold regret, or something worse. You didn't know how you could possibly breathe the same air as them. But you also knew if Tony called you back, he wouldn't do it for just any reason. They needed you. Even if the cost of going back felt impossibly high. Higher than you knew if you could afford to pay. This return journey will be a test. It would reveal if the months spent in Asgard’s had truly mended you. So you decide that bothof you will return.

Besides……it was time to give them a piece of your mind.

@yourtypicalhuman09 @alebrasil0101 @honey-beeuwu @maxiipaddss @pattiemac1 @chalahyung01 @wintrsoldrluvr @missvelvetsstuff

[sugubear]

thinking of revenge sex with ex-boyfriend!toji to get back at your cheating boyfriend.

"so what, you wanna send a video of us fucking to get back at yer shitty boyfriend?"

toji knew it was only a matter of time before you came showing up at his door. you'd never been able to resist him during your relationship, so what makes it any different now that you apparently found some good boy who treats you better? he knows he's ruined you for any other man and the thought makes him so fucking cocky. his dick is replaceable. or so he thought, anyways.

he remembers the day you dumped him. oh, you found someone who's sweet and charming? yeah, right. he could see through the man's facade even with his eyes closed. besides, the man wasn't even half as attractive as he is. toji was offended that you'd downgraded to a cheating asshole like that. he treated— no, treats you better than him.

"nasty fuckin' girl," toji's gravelly voice rasps through hot, heavy pants. you respond with a high-pitched whine, hips pathetically bucking to get any kind of relief from the heated ache between your legs he's adamantly keeping you from getting. he's buried so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

a rough hand pushes the side of your face into the mattress, one of his thumbs hooking into your mouth. "toji, please—!"

"not you. i'm talking to this greedy girl."

a glob of gooey saliva hits your perky clit before he's rubbing it with his other thumb, pinching it every few seconds to see you squirm and watch your tits bounce in tandem to your body's squirming movement.

everything has your mind cloudy and your eyes unfocused, the only thing you're actually focused solely on is getting him to just pound his fat cock into you. you can barely even register your phone on his bedside table recording the both of you anymore.

"i knew you were obsessed with my dick, but i didn't think you were going to be this pathetic about it." toji snarks with a coarse chuckle, not even bothering to hide the condescending smirk playing on his lips when he watches the arch of your back on the phone screen. he slaps your clit with the pads of his fingers and mannerlessly rolls you onto your stomach, splaying a hand across the span of your abdomen and then lower... lower... lower...

"what the fuck?"

toji's face falls into a disgruntled frown, his hand stopping almost immediately when he sees a message pop up on your screen. one of his hands come up, calloused palm now silencing your needy whimpers.

"why the fuck is shiu asking if you're still coming over?"

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ plumber!toji had quite the looks. that just happened to be a plus when you hired him. after all, it's not like you knew what he looked like, when you texted his business number a time and place.

it wasn't your fault. it wasn't your fault that your boring, workaholic husband was always at work. what were you to do? a pretty, bored housewife — one left all alone at home.

"it's the pipes," you say, soft and breathy. as if you aren't dreaming up the nastiest things that could ever come to mind, eyes roving his fit body. pipes, ones that you'd messed with. there wasn't that much leakage, at least not that you could see.

you think. to be honest, you're hardly aware of how much harm you've inflicted onto them.

you're just a little lady, so, what do you know about these things? instead, you lead him to the cabinets underneath the kitchen sink, leaning back against the counter, pretending to be concerned, as he takes a look.

it takes him less than two minutes to realize the damage was dealt on purpose, to which he responds with a roll of his eyes. "if you wanted to fuck, should've just said somethin'."

and, well, that's how you end up with toji's hips snapping brutally against your ass, the cool slab digging into your skin. your palms are damp with the slick of your sweat, desperately trying to ground yourself, as he rams into you relentlessly.

"this — oh, fuck — is want you wanted, yeah? f- fuckin' better take it." the empty house is filled with the lewd sound of squelching, accompanied by a plap, plap, plap!

he groans, dark hair sticking to his brow. "damn husband of yours, he doesn't fuck you good, huh? you're wrecked already, and we just started."

you can't muster a response, whimpering instead. it spurs him on, his cruel pace only increasing. one of his hands are tangled in your hair, yanking back. the other is digging into your hip, sure to leave bruises in the morning.

his cock stretches you out wholly, forcing yourself to mold to the shape of his thick length. your cunt clenches around his, the fluttering hole doing the best it can. you hardly even last long, body tensing.

"shit, ma, you gonna cum, already? cum on my cock, like some slut?" he sneers, right by your ear. he fucks you hard and greedy, driving into you repeatedly.

"mm—! t- toji," you cry, velvety walls squeezing him tight. your body seizes, and you tremble violently, gushing onto his dick. his stamina? it lasted far longer than yours, and he didn't let up, not until he was shooting ropes into your pussy. overstimulated and fucked-out, you'd lost count of how many times he'd pulled orgasms out of you, waiting for his own to come.

and, when he finally leaves (hours, upon hours, later), you realize he never quite fixed the pipes. oh, well. at least, you had a reason to call him back over, right?

[fatherbrat]

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics.  and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to. 

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk. 

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%. 

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention. 

sunarin liked your story. 

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long. 

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence. 

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone. 

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win. 

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation. 

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening. 

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. 

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie. 

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at. 

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms. 

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would.  Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off. 

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him. 

Or you could let the message keep playing. 

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick. 

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message. 

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.” 

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you. 

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath. 

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

part two

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

PULL ME IN

summary: due to Bruce distancing himself from reading and seeing other women - batfam has to watch their mom willow away.

pt 2

For the twenty-five years, Bruce and Name have been married together - Alfred has never seen Name so withdrawn - so detached . He watches every morning how Name's frail body maneuvers around the kitchen making her own breakfast -

God knows how many times he's asked that stubborn woman to allow him to cook for him but she has always refused him with a quiet smile and a wave of hand. He watches her glide around the kitchen- a woman of once poise and grace reduced to her fumbling with simply holding a cereal box.

Alfred could never pin point where it had all went wrong in their marriage - they were both high-school sweethearts- their marriage was beautiful- he'd know because he had honored it himself. To see them so distant aches his heart.

Alfred knows Bruce has a mission - to save Gotham- a mission that seems ever lasting - a mission that had consumed him entirely to the point it took him over . It took away his relationship with his kids and his own wife .

Alfred would always shoot him disapproving looks when he sees Bruce being too flirty with Talia and Selina - he blesses Name's heart for loving Damian all the same like she has with all her other kids but Alfred notices since then she is virtual never in the same place with Bruce.

She no longer goes to galas anymore , no longer makes public appearances - maybe its because Bruce always had a different arm candy every other night. It's gotten so bad that even the kids started realizing this - Damian , upon realizing his birth had broken down in Name's arms one night - pleading with her to love him - that he's sorry for being born.

Alfred remembers Name cradling the young boy in her arms all night and assuring him he's the best thing Bruce ever made and that she would never blame him for Bruce's actions. Since then - the young boy has always stuck to Name - every morning, he'd affectionately hand her daily medicine and would always help her wrap a shawl over her shoulders.

Tim and Bruce began arguing - particularly because Bruce starting leaving the massive work of W.E for Tim to handle- it came to a head one night when Name and Bruce argued for two hours straight. He remembered how raw her voice was when she yelled at Bruce for overworked her poor son - that he's young and deserves to live and experience his teenage years.

Bruce had argued that Tim had wanted this - that this was what being Robin was about. Jason- god knows Jason and Bruce doesn't get along - ever since what happened to Joker but they argue even worse when it boils down to Name .

Jason was a child primarily raised by Name - she taught him to trust and showed him everything he knew - down to ironing his shirt to tying his shoelace - Name was the mother Jason never had and God could damn for all he cares but couldn't stand to watch Bruce treat her like she was an option because she wasn't - not to him or his brothers.

Jason always made it a point to call Bruce out for his own hypocrisy, himself and Damian always teamed up against him, especially when he was being too flirty with Selina or some random eye candy.

" I suggest you back off harlot , my mother might not kill you, but I will " - Damian when Bruce and Selina were flirting together on patrol.

" I don't give a fuck if ma begs me not to put a bullet in your head , the next damn time I see you talking about her like that I won't hesitate to skin you alive " - Jason when he caught some arm candy bragging to her friends how the 'Bruce Wayne' took her out on a date in front of Name.

God if anyone argues more with Bruce in this household was Dick - Dick was their first child and a child whom lost everything and yes Bruce may of made him robin but name made him dick grayson - bless that woman's heart for having to deal with his tantrums and outbursts when he was younger -

But that woman despite not birthing him was his mother - the woman who literally hugged him everynight to go to bed , the same woman who made his suit for prom by hand and also the same woman he goes to for advice and comfort - safe to say when he heard what Bruce was doing - they argued non stop-

" For god sake, Bruce, you're destroying us - you're destroying our family, and you don't even care." - Dick when Bruce had called you useless because you couldn't walk up a stairs anymore.

Someone from the outside might think they're dramatic, but ever since Bruce started distancing himself from Name and going out with God knows who , Name has fallen into a deep depression - a type of depression that ensnared them in their deep claws and deprive them of what little happiness and energy they have left.

Most days , Name sits on a swing outside and just exists- barely eats , barely talks anymore - how can they ? How can one fathom to be happy when their own spouse is out cheating on you with different people and to make matter worse the public condones it - even more so enables him.

Always publishing some new article of which new model or actress can become worthy of being Bruce's wife as if she doesn't exist. Alfred swallows as he watches her tonight - they're sat stiffly in a velvet love seat , a faint smile on her face, Damian is resting his head on their shoulder, showing them his latest art piece while quietly talking about his day.

Behind her, jason embraces her in a backhug , head resting on her head - his hands sometimes play with the loose strands. Tim quietly sits beside her , his hand holding her free hand - now and again he'd squeeze it . Dick is sat next to Damian on the love seats' arm rest as he prepares her nightly medicine.

Even if the public and her own husband loathes her, name still has the love of her kids and Alfred as always. Suddenly, the large oak doors of the living room are pushed open - the vibrant warmth interrupted as Bruce steps inside .

Damian quiets - everyone looking at Bruce except for Name - she has taken it to state at her hands. " It's time for patrol" Bruce says grufly . No one responds but reluctantly leaves Name side , Jason side hugs her one last time before leaving .

" Yeah, whatever you say, geaser," He says as he shoves Bruce out of his way to go to the cave . Damian glares at his father , " Hopefully, things are taken seriously on this patrol " he insinuated- knowing eyes glaring right at his father disapproving.

Bruce ignores them and stares at name, " Make dinner before we leave " he orders before promptly walking away. Name says nothing - too numbed out a long while to even react. Dick and Alfred himself curses him while Tim is glaring at the closing door harshly .

" Ma I'll order us something don't stress yourself " Tim assures her while ordering Uber eats for them on his phone . Name doesn't say anything but sends him a small smile. " I can't believe I raised that boy," Alfred murmurs as he shakes his head in disappointment .

Bruce may not realize it now but it's too late to fix anything - too late to pull his wife back in and live the happy life they once had - its too late to repair their broken family since the glue that's stuck them all together is fading away .

ty for reading, please like + comment + share !!!

pls do not hate a on queens talia & selina they won't do this , theyre too girlboss for bruce anyways

[yuujispinkhair]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

You show me colors I can't see with anyone else

You are stuck in an unhappy marriage, not brave enough to leave your cheating husband. Until you meet Sukuna.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Word Count: 10k Warnings: 18+, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, but not explicit, cheating (Reader's husband cheats on her, and later on, she cheats on him with Sukuna). Sukuna is a CEO (or can be read as a Yakuza boss, too). Sukuna + Reader are both in their thirties. The fic title is taken from Taylor Swift's "Illicit Affairs", but in this story, the secret affair has a happy ending. This story is super self-indulgent, but I hope some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it, too! Minors don't interact. Divider @./lovwoung

You often ask yourself what went wrong. How did you end up trapped in this unhappy marriage? Maybe you were too young, too inexperienced, too naive when you met your husband. Maybe you were too insecure, convinced no one would ever want you, and so you gratefully settled for the first man who showed interest in dating you.

Your relationship was never like those romances you knew from books or movies, but you assumed that was just how things were in reality. Your mom, your aunt, and everyone else told you how lucky you were to have finally found a man willing to be with you. How lucky to have found someone with a good job and from a good family. They were also the ones who pressured the two of you to get married, and ever since then, things have gone downhill.

Your husband hasn't shown you any love or affection in years. The only time he shows interest in you is when he wants to have sex, but even that is without any real intimacy. He hasn't kissed you in years, and if he did at this point, you would probably be disgusted by it. There is no love in this marriage.

The worst thing is you know he is cheating on you. You already suspected it when he suddenly had to stay at work a lot longer than usual and when he began to hide his phone screen from you. And then one night, you woke up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and that's when you overheard your husband talking on the phone with some other woman calling her angel and baby and telling her how beautiful she was.

Even though you didn't love him anymore, it still made your world tumble down around you.

You want to leave him, but you can't. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. You have always found it very hard to make decisions, and this one is huge. You have no idea where to go or how to get by on your own. All your savings went into buying this apartment, and now what?

And it's not just the financial aspect that worries you. Everyone has always told you that you would never survive on your own. They always kept you small, turning you into someone who is dependent on others. You got told that you are weird, not good enough, and incapable of ever taking control of your life. And at some point over the years, you started to believe that. Your self-confidence is non-existent.

You tell your mom about the cheating, and she tells you to stay with your husband.

"It's just a little fling. At least you are lucky that he doesn't want to divorce you. It would be such a financial disaster, and you know how you are. You don't do well on your own. Just stay with him and find joy in other things. Maybe pick up a new hobby. I could give you Kira's number. She just joined a nice Yoga class!"

You don't go to the Yoga class, but you also don't leave your husband. You try to pretend everything is fine. Try to gaslight yourself into thinking that maybe you are really just a hysterical, insecure, and overjealous idiot who misinterpreted things.

The months pass, and you catch him flirting on the phone several times. An annual business event is scheduled, which you always accompany him to, but he tells you it got canceled this year. Only to find out from the wife of one of his coworkers that the event took place as usual, but you and your husband simply never showed up. You know why. He didn't want you there. He didn't want to risk his little affair and his wife running into each other.

You've given up on love by now. You hate seeing ads for romance novels or rom-coms. You stop listening to music because most songs are lovesongs. For all you know, romantic love is just a made-up thing that people sing about and write about, but it's all just lies.

Or maybe it does exist in real life. But not for you. Maybe you simply aren't the type of woman who deserves to be loved. Maybe your mom is right, and you should just accept it.

So you stay with your husband, but you are dead inside.

Until you meet Sukuna.

He is everything you ever dreamed about in your secret fantasies that you started to develop to comfort yourself. A dreamed life, but now it's right in front of you, close enough to touch. Sukuna is a real gentleman. An attractive mix of a bad boy and a successful, serious businessman. Smart, confident, and sexy, with a boyish playfulness beneath his professional appearance.

Ironically, you meet him the night you try to save your marriage.

You are already sitting at the table for two you booked for a date in one of the best restaurants in the city. You put on makeup and spend an hour picking a dress in which you feel at least half attractive. And now you sit here, sipping your red wine, waiting for your husband to arrive, to hopefully bond with him again over a delicious dinner and a few hours where you can talk and maybe laugh together.

Only that your husband never shows up. You have already finished your first glass of wine and received several pitiful looks from the waitress when your phone buzzes with a message. It's your husband telling you he can't make it. "Something has come up at work. I don't know when I will be able to leave. Just have dinner without me."

You stare at the message for far too long, not even knowing how to respond. Feeling utterly humiliated, utterly hurt, and abandoned. Worthless. You know he is going to see his girlfriend instead tonight. His girlfriend, who is young and sexy, and can give him what he wants.

And suddenly, you can't hold back the tears anymore. You blink hastily, wiping angrily at your cheeks, trying everything not to ruin your makeup or have a breakdown in the middle of the crowded restaurant. But the waitress chooses that exact moment to walk up to you with an overly bright smile, asking,

"Excuse me, Madam. Would it be alright if someone joins you at your table?"

You look at her, caught off guard, really not wanting a stranger at your table in this horrid moment, but you are too polite to say no, and so you smile weakly back at her, pressing out in a tear-thick voice,

"Of course, I don't mind."

You wipe your eyes again, trying to will the tears away, as a tall man in a fancy-looking black suit and slicked-back pink hair comes into view. He is snapping at the waitress, clearly annoyed, saying something about how rude it is to forget his reservation and that this will have consequences since he is a regular customer, etc.

But he sits down across from you, still fuming as the waitress bows deeply several times, apologizing profusely for the mistake, promising that the man's food and drinks will be free tonight.

He lets out an exasperated sigh and orders a glass of red wine, which the waitress immediately scrambles to get for him.

You gulp hard, trying to regain composure, hoping you don't look as forlorn as you feel. You lift your head to nod at the man across from you, trying to muster up a polite smile because, after all, you have been trained from a young age to always be friendly.

You take him in and draw in a surprised breath. He is gorgeous. The most attractive man you have ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered with masculine but beautiful features. Angular jawline, intelligent maroon eyes, and sensual lips that are lifted in a smug smirk as he nods back at you,

"Excuse this inconvenience. I will make sure whoever is responsible will get fired."

And, of course, you splutter and are quick to try doing damage control, not wanting some poor person to lose their job over this.

"Oh no, please, it's no problem at all!"

The pink-haired man laughs softly, a low, husky sound that makes your pulse flutter nervously.

He looks intimidating with his tall height and muscular build, and the tattoos that line his handsome face. But he is distinguished and elegant, wearing a designer suit and an expensive watch. Clearly, he is a regular guest of a restaurant like this.

He looks like a successful CEO (or a Yakuza boss, your mind provides not helpful at all). He's definitely someone in a powerful position, judging by his whole appearance and the dominant and confident aura he exudes. But he also has pastel pink hair, a boyish grin, and a playful attitude that makes him seem not as scary as you first thought.

His wine arrives from a different waitress, and he thanks her politely, telling her,

"Put everything the lovely lady across from me orders on my card."

The waitress is quick to bow deeply with a polite, "Of course, Mr. Itadori," at the same moment, as your eyes widen, and you quickly argue,

"Oh no, please, I can't..."

But he smirks his charming smirk and lifts a large hand dismissively,

"It's the least I can do for ruining your evening in much-wanted solitude."

Much wanted solitude.

His words hit you to the core, making all the sadness well up in you again. If only it were true. If only you were truly a single, independent woman who came here after a successful day at work to enjoy dinner on her own in voluntarily chosen solitude.

But you are none of that. You are an abandoned and unloved wife with a boring job and no money, sitting here at a table for two because your husband ditched you to fuck his pretty little assistant in his office.

And suddenly, the tears are back in your eyes, making it hard to see. You quickly avert your shameful gaze, your hand grabbing your wine glass so tightly it almost breaks.

Your sight is blurry, but you can still see the shocked look on the man's face across from you. His eyes dart away from you but then back again, obviously not used to the company of a crying stranger. He clears his throat before he leans slightly across the table, lowering his voice to a soft murmur,

"Are you alright?"

You feel embarrassment flood you, feeling so mortified at your behavior. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you! This is so typical of you, ruining this stranger's evening, because you don't have your emotions under control and act like a complete fool. It's something your husband would chide you for or make fun of if he saw it.

"I... I am so sorry! Please just ignore me."

You hate how your voice breaks, and before you can suppress it, a pathetic-sounding sob falls from your lips. You press your hands to your face, sobbing silently into them, trying to hide from the world and from the poor guy who's forced to share this table with you.

But then you feel a tentative touch, a warm hand gently brushing over your arm, and you pull your hands from your face, blinking at your table partner, feeling your lips tremble and your face burning, knowing that you must look so ugly right now with your makeup ruined and tears and snot coating your face.

Another apology is already waiting on your tongue, but he shakes his head, and somehow, it's so authoritative but also gentle that your apology dies on your tongue. Instead, you blink at him, as he cocks his head and watches you thoughtfully, that low voice so smooth and soothing when he says,

"Don't apologize."

You nod, trying to smile gratefully at him, but fail miserably as his kind reaction only causes more tears to fall.

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. Not a paper tissue, but an actual handkerchief. He offers it to you, and you reach for it automatically, thanking him. But you freeze the moment your hand wraps around the fabric, realizing it's made out of fine silk.

He raises an eyebrow,

"Please, take it."

"But I... I will just ruin it with my makeup..."

He huffs, a soft smirk lifting his lips,

"I don't care. I'll just buy a new one. Take it. I insist."

"Th.. thank you, sir. That's really sweet of you."

His lips twitch,

"You're welcome. And for you, it's Sukuna, not sir."

You sniffle, pressing his handkerchief against your cheeks as you nod and tell him your name.

His smirk softens to a small smile, and he jerks his tattooed chin toward your empty wine glass.

"Do you want another one of those? Looks like you could use it."

You nod as more tears well up in your eyes, and Sukuna snips his fingers, instantly summoning a waiter to your table as if they are all hovering nearby just waiting for Sukuna to voice a wish.

Five minutes later, you have another red wine to hold on to and sip on, which causes a comforting buzz in your head, and suddenly, it all breaks out of you, and you tell Sukuna everything. You tell him about your failed marriage, about how lonely you feel, how unloved. About your cheating husband. About how pathetic you think you are for not daring to leave him because you have never been on your own before and you have no one who has your back.

You cry and sob and take big gulps of the wine while pouring your heart out to this beautiful stranger sitting across from you. This guy who, despite his intimidating look, is surprisingly gentle with you and who doesn't mind that you stain his silken handkerchief with your mascara and lipstick.

Sukuna actually listens to you. He looks earnestly at you, clenches his jaw when you tell him how your husband treats you, and shakes his head when you say under tears how stupid you think you are.

"No, you aren't. Don't blame yourself. It's him. He is the problem. He is the asshole."

Sukuna is the first one who tells you that you deserve better.

You feel an unexpected relief at finally being able to pour your heart out to someone. And just when you get yourself enough under control again to begin feeling embarrassed at your outburst, Sukuna flashes you a smirk and raises an eyebrow, asking,

"Do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

Which makes you forget the embarrassment and instead stare at him with big eyes and hurriedly splutter,

"Oh my god, no! This is not what I..."

You don't get any further because Sukuna begins to laugh, shaking his head slightly as his eyes sparkle amusedly at you.

"Don't worry. I'm just joking."

You huff a breath of relief, followed by a little laugh. Sukuna's comment managed to pull you out of your little moment of regret, and you feel better again, taking another sip from your wine and even managing to eat a few bites of the meal Sukuna ordered for the two of you, claiming that an empty stomach is never good.

Sukuna is nice to you. It's astounding to you because, with the way he looks with those face tattoos and the slightly dangerous aura surrounding him, you would have never thought a man like him could be so nice. It brings more tears to your eyes, feeling too emotional from all the wine. But you use Sukuna's handkerchief to blot them away.

He leaves with you when you say you have to go home, walks around the table, and pulls out your chair like a real gentleman. He offers you his strong arm when you sway lightly on your heels. He helps you into your coat and accompanies you to the exit.

You stand in front of the restaurant on the busy street, but all you see is Sukuna, who stands so close to you that you can smell his cologne, a sensual, woodsy scent that fits him perfectly, smelling expensive and sexy.

He puts a large hand on your tear-stained cheek, cupping it gently, wiping a few fresh tears away, and you take a step closer to him as if drawn in by a magical force, craving this tender touch, even if it's just a stranger touching your cheek in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Sukuna is so tall and broad, making you feel so safe somehow, and before you can stop yourself, you lean your head against his broad chest, closing your eyes for a moment and sighing longingly. For the first time in so long, you feel as if you can breathe.

You reluctantly take a step back again, tilting your head to smile up at Sukuna, thanking him again for everything he did for you. And he grins at you and leans down, his lips brushing over your ear, while his hand still caresses your cheek,

"You deserve so much better than your asshole of a husband. Don't hesitate to call or text me when you need a break again."

And with that, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. It's such a delicate feeling, so soft and gone again in a split second that you aren't sure if it really happened or if you just imagined it, but it fills you with such warmth that it almost hurts.

Sukuna pulls away with a smirk, and you see a business card dangling from his long fingers. You take it from him with a small, grateful smile.

+++

Several days pass, during which you firmly ignore the business card that's still in your purse.

Waking up the next morning after meeting Sukuna made you feel strange. Guilty somehow. As if you had done something wrong. It's ridiculous, of course. Nothing happened between Sukuna and you. And if someone was supposed to feel guilt, it was your husband. And yet you refused to even look at the business card, feeling like you would be doing something bad if you even so much as entertained the idea of adding Sukuna's number to your contacts.

No, you would never contact Sukuna. You would do as your mom had said. Just accept the circumstances of your marriage and create your own happiness. Maybe you should really find a new hobby. Or maybe you could get a pet? A cat or a dog?

For the next few days, you almost manage to convince yourself that you are fine with your life. You keep yourself busy by researching different cat and dog breeds and starting a new TV show.

But then you walk in on your husband flirting with his affair on the phone again, and you see red. This time, you can't stop yourself from confronting him, from snapping at him and screaming at him under tears to stop it.

It leads to nothing, though. He is so unbothered, so smooth, lying through his teeth, downplaying it, claiming she is just a good friend, making you seem like some nutcase who overreacts at every little thing.

You escape to the bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring off into space as tears stream down your face, feeling so helpless in your rage and misery. What are you supposed to do when your cheating partner refuses to admit he is actually cheating on you?

You wish you had the courage to leave him. Or better, you wish he would take the decision from you and leave you so you won't be the one everyone blames for ending this seemingly perfect marriage! And so you won't have to be the one who makes a decision that will change your whole life.

You yank open your nightstand, searching for some paper tissues. And that's when you see Sukuna's handkerchief again, peeking out from under a package of chocolate cookies.

You brush tenderly over the soft, silken fabric. A small smile lifts your lips as your fingers brush over the initials embroidered on it in one corner in a fancy gold thread. S.I.. Itadori Sukuna.

You let out a long breath, wiping your tears away with one hand while the other holds the handkerchief. And suddenly, the clouds seem to disappear as you remember the warmth you felt when Sukuna cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away. And suddenly you know what you want to do.

You jump up and walk to your dresser, pull it open hurriedly, and yank out the purse you had with you in that restaurant. You open it, impatiently emptying its contents over your bed, until you see the business card with Sukuna's contact information.

On any other day, you would overthink things and take an hour to even make up your mind about what to write, but in the state you are in right now, everything seems so clear.

You grab your phone, add Sukuna's contact, and open a new text message. Your fingers seem to do the work without you consciously having to think about it as they quickly type a message:

"Hey. It's your surprise table partner from last Friday. Thank you again for being so nice to me and for your handkerchief."

You feel triumphant as you place your phone down on your nightstand. And then it buzzes, and your heart jumps to your throat. There's a reply.

"I'm glad you finally texted me. You are very welcome. How are you feeling?"

"I am ok. What about you?"

You cringe at your poor small-talk skills, but Sukuna is surprisingly easy to talk to. He tells you about his day, about business meetings, and what he will have for dinner.

There's a strange feeling spreading through your chest. A kind of longing. You crave the feeling of being near Sukuna again. How safe you felt when leaning your head against his chest for a few seconds. How seen you felt when he listened patiently to you and reassured you.

You want to see him again. Want that feeling again.

"I want to give you back your handkerchief. Where can we meet?"

You know you sound weird as fuck, but it's the only way you dare ask him to meet you again.

"I don't want that handkerchief back, sweetheart. But we should meet up anyway. I quite enjoyed your company. How about you join me again for dinner sometime this week?"

Oh.

Your heart is racing uncontrollably, and your hand shakes as you stare at Sukuna's message.

This is it. This is where things become dangerous. You know the right thing to do would be to say no. It's what a married woman should do. But your husband is in the living room, probably sexting his little affair, so why should you be a good wife?

And so you text Sukuna back, letting him know that dinner sounds great.

+++

The dinner with Sukuna is nice. Really nice. You catch yourself feeling so much lighter, your lips lifted in genuine laughter, your eyes shining with happiness as you spend your evening with Sukuna. He is a very charming conversationalist. Cocky, but in such a playful way that it makes you giggle and feel your face get hot from all the joy it brings you to playfully joke around with him and let him tease you in such a charming and light-hearted way.

Your meeting is innocent, nothing that could be counted as cheating. Just a man and a woman who enjoy good food and wine together and chat about everything and nothing. The occasional small touches don't count, right? Like when Sukuna's large hand brushes over the back of your much smaller hand that's resting on the table.

Or when he reaches across the table to cup your chin and wipe some cherry sauce off the corner of your lips with his thumb. But just because his gentle touch makes your skin tingle and your pulse quicken doesn't mean there is anything going on between Sukuna and you!

Sukuna refuses to let you pay, saying it's a delight for him to have you keep him company. And you laugh bashfully and wave him off but feel so giddy. Sukuna offers you his arm when you walk out of the restaurant, and you take it happily, marveling at how tall he is and how safe you feel walking at his side, biting your lip when you wrap your hand around his upper arm and feel his big biceps flex under your palm.

You say good night on the street in front of the restaurant, and before you know what you are doing, you wrap your arms around Sukuna for a light hug. You intend to pull away again immediately, just a quick, friendly hug, but you get stopped by Sukuna's strong arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly, hugging you back, and not letting you go yet.

He rests his chin on your head, and you have the enticing scent of his cologne in your nose again. You feel so warm and comfortable with Sukuna's strong arms around you, his tall, muscular body pressing against you, warm and reassuring. It makes you let out a shaky breath, overcome with feelings, because you can't remember the last time someone hugged you like this.

Sukuna's low voice is a velvety rumble when he says,

"I am on the National Museum's VIP list. There will be a pre-opening event for a new exhibition this coming week. Heian era. It sounds interesting. Would you like to accompany me?"

You lift your head, looking curiously at Sukuna,

"What must one do to get added to the National Museum's VIP list?"

An amused smirk lifts Sukuna's lips, making him look so unfairly handsome,

"Oh, nothing much, just make one or two generous donations every year."

He shrugs, and you laugh, beaming up at him in amusement as you nod,

"I would love to accompany you."

"Sweet. It's settled, then. I'll text you the day and time."

You want to walk to the subway, but Sukuna stops you with a warm hand on your arm, saying he will drive you home. For a moment, you freeze, not knowing what to say. It feels wrong somehow to let another man drive you to the apartment you share with your husband. And maybe you should be cautious and keep a distance and not let Sukuna know exactly where you live.

But you shake yourself out of it. All of those things have been hammered into your brain all of your life, making you anxious and scared and never truly living your life. You are already meeting with Sukuna for dinner and will accompany him to a museum next week. The world won't end if he knows your address!

You smile at him and nod, telling him it would be very nice if he drove you. And Sukuna smiles back, a pleased look in his maroon eyes. He gently steers you towards the parking space with a large hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you stroll down the street.

You catch yourself having a more upright posture than usual, your head lifted, your lips adorned with a soft smile. You feel like the passerbies are all looking at you and Sukuna. Maybe thinking the two of you are a couple on a date, and the thought makes your stomach tingle.

Sukuna's car is a black Porsche. You don't even know why you are surprised. He grins lazily as he opens the door for you and helps you slip into the passenger seat, handing you your purse when you sit and carefully closing the door behind you before he walks around the front of the fancy sports car and gets into the driver's seat.

"Nice car," you say, and Sukuna turns to look at you with a teasing twinkle in his eyes,

"Well, I'm not a nice guy, so at least my car should be."

"Oh, I think you are very nice."

The two of you hold eye contact for a long moment, both pairs of eyes filled with amusement before you burst out giggling, and Sukuna joins you with his low laugh.

+++

You spend the next evenings at home, having dinner with your husband, who is busy with his phone most of the time, making the cold, heavy feeling in your stomach even worse.

Your only joy is the anticipation you feel in looking forward to Wednesday afternoon when you will meet Sukuna at the museum.

He is already waiting when you arrive, leaning casually against a pillar next to the entrance, tall and handsome with his perfectly styled pink hair and his Tom Ford suit. A dark red one this time, which makes his eyes look like red wine.

Sukuna is a beautiful man.

For a moment, you feel a nervous flutter in your chest, but it vanishes again when Sukuna grins at you and greets you with his warm, low voice and a large hand on your back, pulling you into a half hug.

He doesn't even have to say his name when the two of you approach the young man who greets the guests and ticks off their names on the guest list.

"Ah, Mr Itadori! Have fun at the exhibition. And thank you so much for your generous support."

Your hand slips naturally around Sukuna's arm as you stroll through the exhibition. It feels nice to be here. It makes you realize how long it's been since you last visited a museum. Or did any kind of activity, really. Your husband never had time for you during the last few years.

You can tell that Sukuna is genuinely interested in the exhibition. He already seems to be an expert on the topic, adding interesting facts to the already detailed info sheets next to each exhibition piece.

It's an equal amount of endearing and sexy how nerdy he seems to be about this. Attractive. You like smart men. You like it when a man is passionate about learning everything about a topic that interests him. And Sukuna is like that.

You hang on his lips, soaking up his knowledge, feeling way too hot when you watch the sparkle in his maroon eyes as he goes into a passionate monologue about political intrigues during the timeline of one of the exhibition pieces.

And he seems to like that you also show genuine interest in the exhibition and in what he has to say about it. He blesses you with a soft smile that makes your stomach flutter. You feel exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest, almost bursting with happiness. A long-forgotten feeling emerging again after so many years.

You thank Sukuna profusely for the fun afternoon, and he grins that charming, boyish grin at you and tells you he is grateful that you kept him such lovely company.

This time, there is no doubt about whether he really kisses your cheek or not. His lips linger on your heated skin for a long moment, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before Sukuna smiles at you and cups your other cheek with his hand, his long fingers caressing it slowly.

"Let's meet again for dinner next week, sweetheart."

+++

You pace your living room restlessly.

Your trip to the museum with Sukuna made you realize something. It made you realize what this giddy feeling is that has been filling you ever since you started to meet up with him. That light-hearted, fluttery, happy feeling you get when you see him or even just when you think of him (which is almost every waking second of your day).

You try to shut down those feelings, telling yourself it's dangerous to let someone make you feel so much again. It makes you too vulnerable. It will only lead to more chaos and more hurt.

Why would a man like Sukuna even be interested in anything serious with me? He can probably have anyone. Either he only sees me as a friend, or I am just a little fling to him. I have to stop this before I get in even deeper!

In the coming week, you cancel your dinner with Sukuna by sending him a short text telling him you have a cold. He sends you a get well soon message and asks if you need anything, which you deny, even while you sob silently because Sukuna is so caring, and all you want to do is run into his strong arms and forget about your joyless life.

But you stay strong and put your phone away, forbidding yourself from sending more messages to Sukuna.

Your husband makes a rare attempt to talk to you, and you already know what he wants. After tiptoeing around you for several hours, he asks you for sex. You join him in the dark bedroom, feeling nothing as you slip out of your clothes and climb into bed with him.

You have learned to close your eyes during sex and let your mind wander, imagining all kinds of fictional scenarios to help you feel anything at all. But this time, you don't think of a fictional love interest out of a romance novel or an actor you find attractive. This time, you think of Sukuna.

You feel dirty afterward as you stand under the shower and scrub at your skin. Dirty for thinking of Sukuna while you slept with your husband. But what makes you feel even dirtier is that you still let your cheating husband touch you even though Sukuna is so nice to you. It feels as if you are cheating on both of them.

You cry so much that you feel like you have no tears left.

+++

Even though you haven't met or talked to Sukuna in over a week, he is still constantly on your mind. You are haunted by images of him. That beautiful tattooed face. That sexy low voice and the playful smirk. That tall and muscular body that makes you feel so tiny in comparison and so safe when you are standing in front of him or leaning against him.

You sigh. One would assume that acknowledging that you are developing romantic feelings for Sukuna would make things easier for you. Clearer. But the thing is, even though you know what your heart wants, you are still too scared to end things with your husband. There are too many insecurities. Too many risks and you feel so useless and weak, just like your parents always told you you are.

You feel frozen, unable to make a move. There is this wonderful man who treats you as if you are special and shows you how a man is supposed to make you feel, and yet you lack the courage to get out of your loveless marriage.

You have always been an overthinker, always scared to trust your instincts. Brought up to always be sensible and make decisions with your head and not your heart. So how could you just leave the security of this marriage? Especially when you are trying to convince yourself that Sukuna would never want a relationship anyway.

No, you can't let yourself believe that you could have a future with Sukuna. This is just a stupid dream born out of your naivety, which your parents always warned you about.

And how could you even go about ending things with your husband? Sit him down and tell him it's over? But what then? What do you do when he just refuses to accept it?

Or should you just pack your bag and leave while he is at work, letting him return to an empty apartment and a goodbye letter on the kitchen table? But where would you go? To a hotel? You have no money. To your parents? You would feel so ashamed, and you fear their judgment. To a friend? You don't really have any friends anymore who you are close enough with to ask this of.

You sigh. None of it seems achievable. Not for you. You are too chicken to do any of it.

Your husband informs you that he will be gone for two days for a business trip, and you let out a breath of relief, happy about the freedom you feel when he is away and you have the apartment to yourself.

You open a bottle of wine, listen to your favorite playlist, and dance around the kitchen, almost able to convince yourself that things will be ok and you can just live a life feeling detached from the hurt your marriage causes you.

And then your iPad dies. You groan, quickly walking to the spare room you use as an office to grab your husband's laptop, only to get greeted by his e-mail inbox, where you see a booking confirmation for a romantic couple getaway for the next two days.

You stare at it wide-eyed. And then you sit down in a daze and go through the received and sent e-mails, only discovering more outrageous things. The escort girls your husband booked over the last year, the flowers he ordered for other women, while you never got any flowers from him in all your years married to him. The romantic getaways he booked anytime he claimed to go on business trips.

You can't even cry about it anymore. The sadness is replaced by cold rage. And by a strange feeling of resignation. You know you could show all of this to your mom and finally make her believe what you told her all this time. Finally, presenting her and everyone else with proof of how badly your husband treats you.

But even as you snap pictures of the e-mails, you realize you can't bring yourself to do it. And the infuriating thing about it is that it's not even because it causes you hurt, but because you still want to protect your husband. If you show your mom this, she will confront him and make a huge scene. And you don't want that to happen. Even after everything he did, you still are too much of a good girl to let him face the rage of your mom.

That's why you close the laptop again without doing anything. You make sure to put it back to where you found it.

But a different kind of conviction has settled over you. If your asshole of a husband can go on romantic getaways and sex meetings, you can allow yourself some fun, too, can't you?

It's not even that you plan to have sex when you text Sukuna. You just want to meet him for dinner or another trip to the museum. You just want to talk to him, and laugh with him and soak up the light feeling he gives you.

He calls you instead of texting back. Your heart races when you take the call, and Sukuna's velvety low voice fills your ear,

"I just came home from a big grocery haul. So how about instead of meeting at a restaurant, you come to my apartment, and I cook for you?"

You agree instantly.

+++

Unsurprisingly, Sukuna lives in one of the most expensive neighborhoods of the city. The luxurious apartment complex makes you feel nervous and a bit out of place. But that uneasiness slips from you the moment Sukuna opens his door and greets you with that sexy, teasing smirk and a playful little comment.

It's the first time you see Sukuna dressed casually. And it undeniably does something to you to see him in a pair of gray sweatpants and a rather snug-fitting white t-shirt that clings to his buff pecs and gives you a nice view of his muscular arms and more of his tattoos. You aren't sure what is more mouth-watering, the food that is simmering in one of the pots on Sukuna's stove or his big biceps that flex deliciously with every move.

Sukuna lifts you onto the kitchen counter, easily picking you up and setting you down as if you weigh nothing. A fact that makes you all flustered and sends your pulse racing, making you gratefully grab the wine glass Sukuna is offering you, so you can hide your face behind it and let the alcohol calm your nerves.

No man has ever cooked for you before, and watching Sukuna do it is one of the most attractive things you have ever witnessed. He is so sexy. Passionate and skilled, and still always taking time to playfully flirt with you or ask you to try one of his dishes, feeding you food from a spoon or from his fingers.

There is a special kind of electricity between you tonight. An almost touchable tension that makes your skin tingle anytime Sukuna brushes up against you.

His voice is husky when he tells you what ingredients he uses to marinate the roasted vegetables. And you can't help but let your tongue flick over his fingers when he pushes a slice of roasted zucchini against your lips.

Sukuna groans softly. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you look up at his tattooed face. You are met by a hungry glint in those beautiful maroon eyes that remind you of the wine Sukuna poured for you.

You are caught in Sukuna's intense gaze, unable to look away. Everything else seems to fade away.

And the next thing you know is that Sukuna is kissing you. Or maybe you were the one who pressed her lips against his first. You don't know. All you know is that you are kissing right here in Sukuna's kitchen while you sit on the kitchen counter, and he is standing between your legs. His large hands are cupping your cheeks and tilting your head back, and your hands are twisting in the front of his soft white t-shirt, pulling him closer to you as you sigh needily into his mouth.

Sukuna kisses you like you have never been kissed before. Passionate, fiery. Deep and sensual, making your head spin and your pulse flutter under Sukuna's hands.

You can't get enough of him and wrap your arms and legs around him as if you are scared he will vanish into thin air if you let go of him. You kiss him with a hunger unknown to you until now. Like a starving person being presented with a life-saving meal.

Sukuna's large hands trail down your sides, fingertips grazing over the sides of your breasts, eliciting a needy little whine from you, and further down until they reach your thighs. You are drunk on his kiss, drunk on him, melting under every little touch.

And Sukuna hums in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss even more. His large hands slip under you, cupping your ass, kneading it while he makes you moan around his tongue.

You have always been shy, but there is something about Sukuna and the way he makes you feel that makes you slip a hand under his t-shirt, feeling him up, greedily caressing his flexing abs, feeling dizzy at how good his firm muscles feel under your fingertips.

You both can't seem to stop kissing, both tumbling down further and further into this heated desire. You are faintly aware of Sukuna mumbling against your lips that the sauce needs to simmer for another hour anyway, and then he picks you up and lifts you easily off the kitchen counter while his lips claim yours again.

Sukuna carries you to his bedroom while never breaking the kiss, and you suck on his bottom lip and run your greedy hands through his soft pink hair and down his bulging biceps, wanting him so much that you think you will die if you don't get all of him tonight.

You sleep with Sukuna on his fancy bed, and it's nothing like it was with your husband. It's like you finally learn how sex is supposed to feel with a man who truly wants you.

Sukuna makes you feel wanted and desired, a feeling that is so new to you after all these years caught in a loveless marriage where your husband made you feel undesirable, unattractive, and like you would never be able to find anyone else with how your body looks and how lousy you are in bed.

But with Sukuna, it is completely different. You feel sexy here in his bed with the way he looks at you when he undresses you. And with the way he moans sweet praise in your ear before his lips and hands worship your body.

Sukuna is a real man. Experienced and confident, but so loving and patient with you when you get shy and tell him that you aren't very experienced and that your husband was disappointed in your skills in the bedroom.

At one point, you tense up, thinking Sukuna will get angry like your husband when you are clumsy during sex. But the opposite is the case. Sukuna is calm and gentle, talking to you in that sexy low voice, all soothing and sexy, telling you that it's ok and that you don't have to be scared or embarrassed.

He kisses you until your head spins and then asks you why you got so tense, asks you what you need. And you almost break out in tears, hugging him tightly, hiding your face in his defined pecs, inhaling his scent, and feeling so loved and so safe in his strong arms like never before.

"I just... I have only been with my husband, and he told me I am not good in bed. He always got mad at me when I didn't know how something worked. I am sorry if I am not what you are used to."

And you feel Sukuna's arms tightening around you, feel him tense up. But he isn't angry with you, only with your husband.

"That man is such a fool. Look at me, darling."

You lift your head off his chest and look at his tattooed face when he looks at you all earnestly,

"You are a beautiful woman, sexy and desirable, and I want to fuck you so good you forget your own name. Because that's what you deserve. And you don't have to be experienced or fuck like a pornstar. You are perfect the way you are, and you drive me crazy. And if you don't know how something works and you want to learn it, then I will teach you, and I promise I will be patient and gentle."

You nod wildly, feeling too emotional to speak, and instead press your body against Sukuna's and capture his lips in another needy kiss. You can feel his smile against your lips when he wraps his large hands around your waist and takes control.

Everything is so easy after that. No words are needed. Just hands and lips exploring each other's skin in heated caresses and bodies entangled in feverish passion. You let yourself fall, give yourself fully into Sukuna's loving hands. Let him take care of you like no one has ever done before.

He fucks you so good you cry.

All the years of feeling undesirable and not enough slip off you now that you are in Sukuna's bed under his gorgeous, tall, and heavy body, your nails leaving scratches on his broad back, hot tears of bliss streaming down your cheeks, and his name falling sweetly from your lips over and over again like a prayer.

It's like you are finally alive, like you are a flower that finally blooms after all these years.

+++

That first night in Sukuna's bed changed you profoundly.

You catch yourself smiling all day. There's a new bounce in your steps. You feel so much lighter. Your stomach is filled with butterflies as if you are a teenager again who has her first crush. Your chest feels so warm. You're filled with new hope. Maybe there is more to life and love than you thought, after all.

You feel like, for the first time, someone has really seen you. You weren't aware that sex like this existed in real life. That a man could make you fall apart like that. Sukuna fucked you in a way that was life-changing, making you feel like you gave him not just your body but also your soul.

And as passionate and nasty as the sex with Sukuna was, he made you feel respected the whole time. Adored. That is what makes you lose your mind anytime you think of it. You have been with your husband for so long, and yet even in the beginning, when the feelings were still fresh, he never made you feel adored or loved in bed. You didn't even know it until now, but he only ever made you feel used.

When your husband asks you for sex, you turn him down his time, telling him you aren't in the mood, and you don't even feel guilty for it.

You keep running back into Sukuna's strong arms over and over again. Into his bed, under his heavy body, where you feel loved and wanted. It's like he opened your eyes, and now you can see all those new colors that you only seem to be able to see with him.

+++

Your clandestine meetings continue for weeks. It surprises you to see winter turn into spring, and yet Sukuna is still texting you, inviting you to more dinner dates and to more intimate meetings in his bedroom. You always assumed he would end your little affair before things became too serious.

But somehow, he is still in your life, reserving his Wednesday evenings for you, buying you roses, and taking you to the best restaurants in the city.

One night, you sit up in his bed on the ruffled silk sheets and bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over Sukuna's naked body. His tattooed skin, his buff muscles, his beautiful silhouette. And you blurt out,

"Why do you keep seeing me?"

It's what you have been asking yourself from the start. What does Sukuna see in you? You are mediocre in every way. Average looks, no real talents, and no impressive career. A wife who got neglected by her husband because she wasn't good enough in his eyes. A woman in her thirties, who was replaced by a younger, more attractive version.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is gorgeous, powerful and rich, and his age only makes him more attractive. He could have anyone.

Sukuna hums softly and turns onto his side, lifting his head to watch you with curious maroon eyes.

"What do you mean, darling?"

You avert your gaze, sighing, bringing up your hands in a helpless little gesture,

"I... I mean, you are you, and I am me. And I just don't understand what you see in me."

Now, the noise Sukuna makes sounds a bit like a growl. You feel stupid for saying anything, already about to scramble out of his bed and flee before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. But you don't make it out of bed. Sukuna's strong arms wrap around you and stop you. He pulls you back into his arms and against his solid, broad chest.

"Don't belittle yourself like that. I keep asking to see you because I want to. Because I like spending time with you. You are so sweet. You make me feel so warm when I have always felt so cold."

His words hit you like a truck. You blink rapidly, your eyelashes fluttering against Sukuna's chest.

"R... really?"

He huffs softly, letting out a low chuckle as his large hand pets your hair,

"Yes, really. I used to only have one-night stands or casual flings. Just sex and nothing more. I used to think that was all I needed. But you showed me something different. Hell, I've never spent so much time with a woman before I slept with her for the first time. And I enjoyed every second of it! I like spending time with you to talk and laugh with you and just have this companionship. You make me feel like maybe I am not that cold-hearted asshole I always thought I was."

You gulp hard, tears filling your eyes. But this time, happy ones. You sniffle against Sukuna's naked chest and press a tender kiss to his tattooed skin.

"You are so sweet, Sukuna."

He laughs softly, and you can feel it against your cheek, a low rumble, where your face is resting on his chest,

"You are the first one who told me I am sweet. Are you sure?"

Now, you laugh softly, too. The insecurity you felt a moment ago forgotten,

"Yes, 100% sure. No one has ever treated me as sweet as you."

"It's what you deserve. You are so sweet that I want to be sweet for you, too. And..."

Sukuna's large hands tighten around your hips, and he flips you over. He rolls on top of you, covering you whole with his tall, broad body. His lips find your neck, trailing little kisses over it, his low voice a seductive murmur in your ear,

"You're not just sweet, but also beautiful and sexy, and you make me laugh, and I want to take you places and cook for you and also want to keep you on my cock all night and feel you squeeze around me and hear you cry my name."

Sukuna grinds his hips against you, pushing you into the mattress, taking you with one powerful, deep thrust for the second time tonight. You gasp and cling to his broad shoulders, your legs wrapping around his hips, welcoming him, craving him, needing him.

He takes it slow. Slow, deep thrusts, his forehead resting against yours, his low voice moaning sweet nothings in between deep, sensual kisses.

It's then that you realize that Sukuna is doing what no one else ever did to you. Sukuna is making love to you.

And you cry hot tears, drowning in his love and his body and everything he gives you. Your nails leave scratches on his broad back, your heels dig into his firm ass, as you throw your head back and cry out his name in the sweetest ecstasy.

He holds you afterward, lies behind you, and wraps his tall, strong body around you. He hugs you with his strong arms and nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing kisses onto your skin, not letting go of you, taking care of you, cuddling you. Something you also never had before. A man who is willingly holding you like that for hours after he came in you.

You sigh happily, still in a daze. The occasional tear still runs down your cheek as you snuggle against Sukuna's muscular body, and your hands caress his tattooed forearms tenderly. You never want to leave his arms again. You want to stay right here.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna's low voice murmurs against your skin again,

"I mean it, darling. I like having you in my life. So much that I want you in it all the time."

One of his large hands caresses your belly, so tender, so loving, sending butterflies fluttering in it like crazy. And Sukuna breathes in your ear,

"Be mine."

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around in Sukuna's arms, cupping his face with your hands as you kiss him, long and sweet, and in between kisses, you murmur against his lips,

"I am already yours."

You know it is the truth. Even though you are still married to another man, even though you are still living with your husband, you are Sukuna's woman now. You suspect you have been Sukuna's woman for several months already, long before you allowed yourself to admit it out loud.

+++

Two hours later, you are buttoning up your coat, about to leave Sukuna's apartment and the sweet bliss of his arms and return to your cold, loveless marriage, and your lonely apartment, when Sukuna stops in front of you. He reaches out, wordlessly helping you with the buttons, dominant in such a caring way, and somehow, that small loving gesture makes your lips tremble as you are overcome by emotions.

He is so good to you. Such a giant of a man, so tall and broad and powerful. And yet, he treats you so gently. Large hands buttoning up your coat for you. The hands that also cook Michelin-star-worthy meals for you, or wash your hair in his luxurious bathtub. The hands that make you see stars when they finger you oh so good. The hands that caress your cheek tenderly and brush your tears away with so much care. Hands that give to you over and over again. A hundred little acts of service that this powerful man gives to you.

"Sukuna, I..."

You trail off, not able to put into words what you want to say to him. How much he means to you. How much you want him. How he made you believe in love again. How much you crave to leave your old life behind and start over new with Sukuna even though you are so scared of change.

Before you can say any of it, Sukuna grabs your wrists, takes them firmly but gently into his larger hands, and looks at you intensely.

"Leave that asshole. He doesn't deserve you, princess. If a man can't see what he has in you, then he is trash. Don't be scared. I can take much better care of you than him. I'll fuck you good and make you only cry happy tears. I will appreciate you like you deserve. I will love you like you deserve. I will ensure you always have everything you need. I have money, and I can protect you. Tell me, darling, who would you feel safer with waking through the city in the middle of the night? That joke of a man or me?"

Of course, you know the answer.

"I love you, Sukuna."

"I love you, too."

His strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug, and you nuzzle your face into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. And finally, here in the safety of Sukuna's embrace, you say those words you have been too scared to say until now,

"I will leave him. I want to be with you. Only with you, Kuna."

You can hear the smile in Sukuna's voice when he replies,

"I'll help you, sweetheart. I have one of the best lawyers in the whole country. I'll call him tomorrow to prepare the divorce papers. I'll take care of everything for you."

Sukuna cups the back of your head and leans down to kiss your forehead gently, reassuringly. He looks at you with that boyish grin you fell in love with and adds in a playful and husky voice,

"And once all of this is dealt with, I will make you my wife."

He takes your left hand into his, turning it around, inspecting the wedding ring you are still wearing, scrunching his nose at it,

"And I'll give you a much prettier ring."

+++

You let the door fall softly shut behind you one last time as you walk out of the apartment you had been sharing with your husband for over a decade. A smile lifts your lips. You are glad to close this chapter of your life.

You know that a braver woman would have left her husband sooner, would have moved out, or kicked him out the moment she found out he was cheating on her. Maybe even sooner, when she realized she was unhappy in that marriage. But you aren't brave. You have always been full of self-doubts and fears. Too ashamed to crawl back to your parents and admit that you hadn't been strong enough to endure your marriage. Too scared that you would never recover from the financial loss of the divorce. Too insecure to believe you could ever make it on your own.

But now you have Sukuna. And the fall doesn't seem so high anymore. You know Sukuna will catch you in his strong arms. He won't let you crash to the ground.

In the end, you think it doesn't matter how you got out of that unhappy marriage and into this loving relationship. All that matters is that you got a second chance to learn how love is supposed to be.

And it still takes bravery to leave your husband and walk into Sukuna's arms. To close the door of your marriage and open the one that leads to the man who came into your life as an illicit affair but has become your one and only.

OH SUKUNA, I NEED YOU 😭😭💗💗 He really took one look at Reader having her breakdown in that restaurant and was like, "I will steal that woman from that loser and give her what she deserves." Thank you, Kuna baby ;)

Thank you so much if you read the whole thing! This story became much longer than I thought, but the words wouldn't stop flowing out of me because this story made me so happy. I hope it could give some of you the same feeling.

I often see posts/articles that victim-blame the women who don't have the courage to leave an unhappy marriage, so I wanted to write something where Reader isn't a strong, independent woman but someone who needs a little encouragement and lots of love from a man like Kuna before she dares make the decision to leave her husband. She deserves all the happiness!

I hope you enjoyed the story and maybe fell a little in love with this version of Sukuna, too 💗

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[sixeyesonathiel]

cw: dubcon, non-con elements, somnophilia, manipulation, codependency, obsessive behavior, jealousy, netorare themes, explicit sexual content (penetrative sex, oral, fingering, degradation, breeding kink, choking, spit kink), voyeuristic surveillance, panty theft, dacryphilia, power imbalance, emotional abuse, forced dependence, explicit language, 18+ only, minors DNI.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s the sole heir of the gojo conglomerate, a silver-spooned prince with eyes like shattered sapphires and a grin that cuts deeper than any blade, born into a world where desire is a currency he spends without thought, yet starved for something real beneath the polished veneer of his charmed life. his penthouse is a glass cathedral overlooking tokyo, where he throws lavish parties to drown out the silence of his own heart, but it’s the glimpse of you—singing in a smoky bar, fake diamonds glinting in your ears, rented dress clinging to your curves—that snags his attention like a hook in his throat. he books you that night, not for your body, but for the way your sharp tongue slices through his bullshit, offering you a room in his apartment by dawn because he can’t stand the thought of you slipping back into the grime of your world.

rich boy roommate satoru who you meet under the dim glow of a bar’s stage lights, your voice a sultry thread weaving through the crowd, fake earrings catching the flicker of neon as you belt out lyrics about heartbreak you’ve never let yourself feel. he’s lounging in a vip booth, all long limbs and careless charisma, but his gaze locks onto you—not your body, but the defiance in your eyes, the way you hold the mic like it’s a weapon, and when he approaches you after, offering a wad of cash for “just a chat,” you laugh in his face, thinking he’s another rich prick playing games, until his soft, persistent charm and a promise of no strings convinces you to follow him to a quiet diner where he listens, really listens, to your stories of scraping by. by morning, he’s dangling keys to a spare apartment in his building, calling it a favor, but the hunger in his stare when you accept betrays the lie—he’s already weaving a web to keep you close.

rich boy roommate satoru who wastes no time reshaping your world, his generosity a velvet trap as he floods your closet with dresses, silk skirts so short they barely skim your thighs, tops that hug your tits until they spill over, all delivered with a sheepish grin and an “oops, must’ve misjudged the size.” he insists he’ll toss them and order replacements, but you, stubborn and wary of owing him more than you already do, shrug and wear them anyway, oblivious to how his breath hitches, eyes darken when he catches you in the kitchen, your tits practically falling out as you pour coffee. every morning, he tells himself he’s saving you from the life you led before him, erasing the cheap glitter of fake diamonds with real ones—earrings and a necklace that gleam like his wealth, a sparkling collar to mark you as his.

rich boy roommate satoru who can’t stand the thought of you selling yourself to strangers, his jaw tightening when you mention your clients, their sweaty hands and clumsy thrusts, because in his mind, you’re too good for that filth, too pure for the muck of your past. he tells himself he’s protecting you, offering you a job at one of his company’s cushy offices—easy work, fat paychecks—but when you shyly refuse, citing the debt you already owe him for the apartment, his blood simmers, because how can you be so demure, so soft-spoken, when you’re spreading your legs for anyone with enough cash? he masks his irritation with a lazy smile, thinking he’ll mold that innocence into something that belongs only to him, even if it means breaking you first.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got eyes everywhere, not that you’d ever notice—tiny cameras tucked into the corners of your apartment, hidden in the vase of roses he sent, capturing every moment you think is private. he watches you on his phone at 3 a.m., your silhouette slipping out of a too-tight dress, or your fingers brushing against your panties as you change, and he’s hard as a rock, stroking himself to the sight of you unaware, his own private show. he tells himself it’s to keep you safe, to make sure no one else is touching what’s his, but the truth is he’s addicted to the thrill, to the secret of owning you without you knowing.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a habit of slipping into your room while you sleep, the city lights casting shadows over your face as he stands over you, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. he traces the curve of your hip with a featherlight touch, sometimes sliding your panties aside to slip a finger inside you, feeling your warmth clench around him as you stir, half-conscious, thinking it’s a dream. he’s careful not to wake you fully, but the thought of you waking up, catching him knuckle-deep, makes his cock throb, because even if you screamed, he knows he could make you beg for more.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s always stealing your panties, pocketing the lacy ones you wear for clients, the ones still damp with your scent, and keeping them in a locked drawer in his penthouse. late at night, he presses them to his face, inhaling deep, jerking himself raw to the thought of you wearing them for someone else, only to come back to him, his bed, his world. it’s a sick ritual, but it fuels his obsession, a reminder that no matter who fucks you, he’s the one who owns your soul.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a silver tongue, seduction dripping from every word when he leans close, whispering how much better he could make you feel than those clumsy johns you service. he’ll catch you in the kitchen, pressing himself against your back, his cock hard against your ass as he murmurs about how he’d eat you out until you’re sobbing, how he’d fuck you so deep you’d forget every other man. you laugh it off, thinking it’s just satoru being satoru, but the way his eyes darken tells you he’s not joking—he’s waiting for the moment you say yes.

rich boy roommate satoru who buys you everything—designer bags, heels that make your legs look endless, perfumes that linger on his sheets—but it’s the diamond necklace he clasps around your throat that feels like a chain. he tells you it’s to replace the cheap shit you used to wear, to make you shine like you deserve, but deep down, he’s marking you, branding you as his creation, his doll to dress up and parade. every time you wear it, he’s reminded of how he’s rewriting your past, making you someone who belongs to him and no one else.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s always touching you, casual but deliberate—fingers brushing your neck when he adjusts your necklace, a hand lingering on your waist when he guides you through a crowded party. he’ll tug you onto his lap during movie nights, his breath hot against your ear as he teases about how you’d look better naked, and though you swat him away, the heat pooling between your thighs betrays how much you crave his touch. he knows it, too, and the smirk on his face says he’s just waiting for you to break.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a knack for showing up when you’re with clients, “accidentally” running into you at hotels or bars, his charming grin masking the rage in his eyes when he sees another man’s hand on you. he’ll slide up, all smooth talk and expensive cologne, introducing himself as your “friend” while his grip on your arm screams mine, and the client scurries off, intimidated by the sheer force of his presence. later, he’ll fuck you in his car, rough and possessive, growling about how no one else can have you, his cock slamming into you so hard the seat creaks, leaving you trembling and marked.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s obsessed with your stories, the way you recount your clients’ fumbling attempts at pleasure with a laugh, detailing their quick finishes and awkward groping. he listens, leaning forward, cock straining in his pants as he imagines you under them, only to replace them in his mind—his hands, his mouth, his dick making you scream instead. he tells himself he’s better than them, that you deserve him, but the twisted part of him loves the details, loves jerking off to the thought of you being used, because it makes his claim on you that much sweeter.

rich boy roommate satoru who tries to wean you off escorting, dangling carrots like a trust fund or a private studio where you could sing instead, his voice soft but insistent as he paints a picture of a life without strangers’ hands on you. you hesitate, not because you love the job, but because his gifts—the apartment, the clothes, the jewelry—already feel like shackles, and taking more would mean surrendering the last shred of your freedom. he hides his frustration behind a playful pout, but inside, he’s seething, because you’re choosing that dirty world over him, and he won’t let that stand.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a thing for your demure nature, the way you blush when he compliments your singing or duck your head when he stares too long, and it drives him fucking wild that you can be so shy while spreading your legs for strangers. he’ll tease you about it, calling you his “little contradiction,” but there’s an edge to his voice, a quiet fury that you can play innocent while letting random men fuck you raw. he wants to ruin that shyness, to make you so dependent on his praise, his touch, that you’ll never look at another man again.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s always pushing boundaries, like the time he “helps” you relax after a long night, his fingers kneading your shoulders before slipping lower, massaging your tits through your dress until you’re gasping. he’ll chuckle, acting like it’s all a game, but when you don’t stop him, he’s sliding a hand between your thighs, fingering you until you’re soaking his wrist, your moans echoing in the penthouse. he doesn’t let you come, though, pulling away with a smirk, saying you’ll have to beg for it next time, conditioning you to need his hands, his control.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s got a savior complex, not that he’d admit it, convincing himself he’s pulling you out of the gutter, giving you a life you could never have without him. he’ll buy you a grand piano for your singing, install it in his penthouse, and watch you play, thinking he’s giving you a future, not a cage. every gift, every favor, is a thread in the net he’s weaving, and when you thank him with that guileless smile, he feels like a god, even as he’s plotting to keep you his forever.

rich boy roommate satoru who loses his shit when you tell him about your new boyfriend, some stable, kind nobody who takes you to coffee shops and holds your hand like you’re fragile. he’s livid, pacing his penthouse, because he’s been pouring his soul into you—paying your bills, dressing you up, listening to your every word—and you throw it away for a guy who’ll probably fuck you in missionary and call it love? he corners you one night, voice low and dangerous, saying you’re ungrateful, that you’re wasting yourself on someone who can’t fuck you like he can, and the hurt in his eyes cuts deeper than his words.

rich boy roommate satoru who starts sabotaging your relationship, subtle at first—cancelling your dates by “accidentally” scheduling emergencies, planting doubts with offhand comments about how “normal” guys get bored fast. he’ll hack your phone, reading your texts, smirking at your boyfriend’s sappy messages, then send anonymous tips to make him question your loyalty. when that’s not enough, he’ll fuck you in your sleep, slipping into your bed while you’re out cold, his cock sliding into your slick cunt as he groans your name, knowing you’ll wake up sore and confused, wondering why your boyfriend’s touch doesn’t feel the same.

rich boy roommate satoru who’s relentless in bed, the night he finally snaps, pinning you to his mattress, his hands bruising your wrists as he fucks you like he’s punishing you for choosing someone else. his cock slams into you, deep and unforgiving, each thrust hitting your cervix until you’re crying, babbling “i love you, satoru, i love you,” as he chokes you just enough to make your head spin, spit dripping from his lips into your open mouth. he grabs your phone, video-calling your boyfriend mid-thrust, angling the camera to show his balls slapping against your ass, your tits bouncing, your face twisted in pleasure as you scream his name, making sure your boyfriend sees every second of you falling apart.

rich boy roommate satoru who doesn’t stop after the call ends, flipping you onto your stomach, fucking you into the sheets until your voice is hoarse, your body trembling from overstimulation. he’ll pull your hair, growling about how no one else can make you come like this, how your pussy was made for him, and when you’re sobbing, begging for a break, he’ll slow down just to edge you, keeping you teetering on the brink until you’re pleading for his cum. he’ll fill you up, groaning as your cunt milks him dry, then spread your legs to watch it drip out, marking you as his, knowing you’ll never go back to that nobody after this.

rich boy roommate satoru who thrives on your tears, the way they streak your face when he fucks you too hard or when you realize your boyfriend’s gone for good, and he’ll lick them off your cheeks, his tongue hot and possessive. he tells you it’s your fault for pushing him to this, for making him jealous, but the truth is he loves seeing you broken, loves knowing he’s the only one who can piece you back together. every sob makes his cock twitch, and he’ll fuck you again, slower this time, whispering that you’re his, always his, until you’re too exhausted to cry anymore.

rich boy roommate satoru who conditions you to crave him, making you dependent on his touch, his voice, his money, until you can’t imagine a life without him. he’ll withhold affection when you mention work, only to shower you with it when you stay home, training you like a pet to seek his approval, his cock, his bed. by the time you realize you’re trapped, you’re too addicted to his chaos, to the way he makes you feel alive, to ever leave, even when you catch glimpses of the cameras, the stolen panties, the truth of what he’s done.

rich boy roommate satoru who moves you to a new city, far from anyone who might remember your old life, setting you up in a penthouse identical to his, where he can watch you through the cameras he’s installed there too. he’ll visit unannounced, fucking you against the floor-to-ceiling windows, your body exposed to the skyline as he whispers about how no one else will ever have you, how he’s your future, your everything. you don’t argue, because deep down, you know he’s right—you’re his, and the thought of anyone else touching you now feels like a betrayal.

rich boy roommate satoru who buys you a ring, not an engagement ring, but something heavier, a band of diamonds that sits like a collar on your finger, a constant reminder of who owns you. he’ll slide it on while you’re sucking him off, his cock stuffed down your throat as he murmurs about how it’s a promise—you’ll never need to sell yourself again, because you’re his to fuck, his to love, his to ruin. you gag around him, tears mixing with spit, and he laughs, thrusting deeper, knowing you’re too far gone to say no.

rich boy roommate satoru who owns you completely by the end, your body and soul molded to fit his desires, your days spent waiting for his touch, your nights filled with his cock and his voice. he’ll fuck you whenever he wants—on the kitchen counter, in the shower, while you’re half-asleep—each time more possessive, more demanding, until you’re nothing but his slut, his doll, his everything, and you love it, love the way he’s broken you down to nothing but him. you’ll wear his skimpy dresses, his diamonds, his marks, and when he pulls you onto his lap at parties, showing you off like a trophy, you’ll smile, because you’re his, forever his, and there’s no one else you’d rather be.

[rinhaler]

𝐀𝐌 𝐈 (𝟐𝟓𝐅) 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 (𝟐𝟖𝐌)

i know it sounds bad but we got high and he's hot!!

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ plug!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for beta reading for me!! this is part of @ohkento's reddit-inspired collab! (ps this isnt a true form fic i just think he looks SEXY IN THAT PIC HNNNNGN) Warnings: 18+, dubcon, mean dom!sukuna, sub!reader, cheating, hate sex ♡, drug taking, weed smoking, blowbacks/shotgunning, heavy degradation, slight praise, fingering ♡, vaginal sex, sixty-nineing ♡, face sitting, squirting ♡, pussy spanking, noncon filming, coercion, manipulation, daddy!kink, creampie, cervix fucking. Words: 10.6k

“I’ve heard about you.” Yuuji starts, turning his head from looking up at the stars to facing you. Your mind feels cloudy, but you return his stare. He thinks your pearly smile belongs in the sky; a permanent constellation to remind him of this moment. “How come this is my first time meeting you?”

You sigh, reaching over as he hands a lit spliff to you. The bonfire rages in front of you both, the smoke burning your eyes until they fill with water.

At least you have the perfect cover if you burst into tears.

“Things got… hard.” you tell him, not really wanting to elaborate. But golden-brown puppy dog eyes will you to continue. It’s stupid, really, how cliché people become when they smoke. You’re no exception. The intoxication and the setting make you feel as though you’re in an indie movie, longing to share your scars and become closer to the one attractive boy giving you his attention. “My ex, he cheated on me. I was with him for two years so it hurt.” you confess, taking a thick drag before passing it back to him, he tuts as he takes it from you.

“I’m really sorry,” he expresses, holding eye contact while he smokes. The feeling rushes straight to his head and through his blood. He laughs a little as he gets comfortable in his seat. “Sorry… I’m not laughing at you.” he clarifies, laughing again.

You start to laugh too, leaning over to grab the spliff from his hand before he sets the back garden on fire with it. Both of your attention is pulled from each other as you hear a scream from inside. The party is still going on indoors, and the scream soon turns into a girly laugh.

No doubt one of your friends flirting with one of the other guys.

“It’s okay.” you assure him, getting just as comfortable in your own seat as you smoke the remainder of the joint. You wrap yourself in the blanket you brought outside and turn your body slightly to face him. “It was with my best friend, too.” you continue, your deepest wound not seeming so scarring as you allow the high to expose your secrets on your behalf.

“Shit.” he shakes his head.

“I’ve been doing therapy and stuff so I’m better. I just wasn’t in the mood to see people…” you explain, jolting upright a little as you realise you’re oversharing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so deep and make you feel uncomfortable.” you tell him.

“I’m fine, I’m the one who asked.” he chuckles, getting comfier under his own blanket as he turns to look at you.

His warm eyes make you feel relaxed, safe. And you hate it. You hate how much of a cliché you really are becoming and you hate that you can’t help it. This moment feels so much bigger than anything, but deep down, you’re paranoid, because you’re sure it’s the drugs talking.

You’ve heard about Yuuji, too.

You’ve heard about how sweet he is and how he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He has a sports scholarship of some kind, and after a quick stalk of his socials you noted how reflected this is in the form of his chiseled body. Could he really be so nice? He seems, perfect.

And apparently he, gives the best head.

“I have a secret.” he tells you, quietly. His voice almost drowned out by the crackling bonfire beside you. You aren’t sure what makes you heat up so quickly. The implication of his words or the way he said them. A lustful look in his eyes as the fire dances wildly beside you both.

“Yeah?” you tell him, cheeks fill with warmth as you try to ignore how fucking hot it is in pursuit of looking cool. And that makes you giggle, for some reason. Yuuji isn’t the one making you flush with heat, it’s the fire, idiot. “T-Tell me.” you encourage him, throwing off your blanket and fanning yourself dramatically.

So much for looking cool.

He grins, almost coyly, as he leans across the arm of his chair. And for some reason, you instinctively mirror him. Is it so secret that you need to be close? He might whisper it to you.

He tilts his head, smirking. His eyes flit from your eyes to your lips a few times. Enough times that you make a note of it. And your heart is fucking racing with each flicker of his gaze. You think you know what’s coming. But you stay still, watching him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“… I really wanna kiss you.” he admits. And if you weren’t hot before, you certainly are now. You try, and likely fail, to keep it cool. A wide grin spreads across your face and you burst into giggles. But your eyes meet his again, and you see a smile just as wide as yours on his face as he observes you.

“Yeah?” you ask, dumbly.

“Yeah.” he nods.

You gulp, shallowly, leaning in closer to him and letting your eyes fall closed. He smirks, again, leaning in until your lips meet. It’s sweet and passionate, until he pulls away. It surprises you a little. Worries you, even. Are you a bad kisser? Maybe you are when you’re high. But worry turns to astonishment as he pulls your chair closer to until the arms of both of your seats touch. He smirks, again, wrapping his arm around your neck as he leans in to kiss you.

And now, you really do hate yourself.

You moan into it.

You aren’t even sure where it came from. Was that really you? He grins, nonetheless, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest as his tongue meets yours in a more than welcome manner. You pull away, a string of spit connecting you both. A kiss infused daze covers your features as you look at him under heavy eyelids, and you pant, deeply.

“I have another secret.” he whispers, stealing another sweet kiss from your raw lips. Gloss smeared over your lip line and a dewiness transferred to his.

“Is it as good as the first?” you tease, giggling as his hand cups your face. You mewl, melting into his touch as his thumb strokes your cheek delicately. Your eyes widen. A look of curiosity replaces the majority of the lust, though you both know it’s still lurking.

“Well,” he starts, his eyes begin to wander. You observe him as his vision roams from the sky to the flames beside you. He takes his time, the anticipation of his words runs rampant through your bloodstream. Until, finally, he blesses you with his gaze once more. “I want to stay with you until the sun comes up. I want you to sit on my lap, with my cock inside you, under our blankets. All night.”

You’d hoped once he told you that your anxiety would have diminished. Though you’re sure with the way his eyes are fixated on your lips, your heart is surely surveying an escape route from your slack-jawed mouth as it pumps hard and violently through you. He doesn’t seem worried that you haven’t said a word, and his gaze doesn’t falter.

“Okay.” you nod.

It excites you. You haven’t been with anyone since your ex. And it might be a bad idea, but it doesn’t stop you. It’s not like you’re rushing into being with someone. It’s been months since things ended with your cheating ex-boyfriend. You stand up, bringing your blanket as you stand over Yuuji, and he holds your hips gently.

He feels under your skirt, smiling when he feels how soaked your panties are but he doesn’t comment. He moves them into the crease of your thigh and encourages you to straddle him.

You do.

Hovering slightly as he pulls down his joggers and his semi springs free. It’s big and pretty, like him. You kiss him as he jerks himself until he’s aching. He’s desperate to bury it inside of your gummy walls, his cock catches against your eager hole with every purposeful stroke.

He throws his head back as you sink down on him, and your hips stutter slightly from the stretch. You’re trying to focus on concealing your bodies with the fuzzy blanket wrapped around you, but your lips fly to his in a bid to silence yourself as he sheaths himself fully.

“Fuck, you’re tight… so wet, too.” he mumbles, hips rolling ever so slightly as he enjoys the feeling of being inside of you raw.

You jolt, panicked, as you hear a knock from the kitchen window. Both of your attention is stolen to see the origin, and you spot a group of partygoers hollering from inside. Two of his friends and one of yours, they all cheer and whoop as they can only assume what’s going on under the blanket.

Yuuji smiles, shaking his head before turning back to capture your lips in another soft kiss. You’re too distracted to notice him flip them off until they disappear.

“Do I remember the night the most perfect woman in the world let me hit her raw after a few minutes of talking under the stars? Yes, baby, I remember the best night of my life, why?” Yuuji asks after you recall that first night you met. “Very cool of you, by the way. I didn’t think you were gonna say yes.”

You giggle, punching his arm softly as you curl into his side in bed. And you sigh, dreamily, thinking about it again. It’s been over a year since that night and you feel just as hazy around him as you did then. You were worried about him thinking of you as a one night stand. Worried that you’d just given in to this stranger for no real reason only to get your feelings hurt again.

But as the sun began to rise and wake you both up in that horrendously uncomfortable chair, he kissed your forehead and held you tightly against his chest. He stroked your hair until you managed to blink the blurriness from your eyes and see his in a new light. The crackle of the orange and white flames had gone from them. Instead, they were honeyed and soft. The kindest eyes you’d ever seen.

“The McDonald’s breakfast in the carpark was better than the sex in the garden, by the way.” you tease him, earning a tickle attack into your sides.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you were begging me to fuck you in the backseat afterwards.” he laughs, stopping his assault as you begin to scream. You cuddle into him again, his fingers tracing over the flesh of your upper arm. “It was good though, really good. Should we order hash browns?”

“Yes.” you nod, excitedly.

He sits up and reaches over to his bedside cabinet to grab his phone. He sighs as he checks his notifications. You sigh, too, watching him as he gets out of your warm bed in search of his clothes.

So much for hash browns.

“Yuuji…” you start.

“Don’t start, please, I don’t wanna leave in a bad mood.” he tells you. He smirks when he realises you’re checking out his abs, only focusing on him again as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. “I don’t want to rush moving in just because you feel sorry for me.”

“I’m not rushing you, and I don’t feel sorry for you!” you tell him, shuffling onto your knees and crawling across the bed until you’re kneeling beside the edge of the mattress. “I hate your brother. He’s a creep and he treats you like shit. I have plenty of room here… you can move in here and have your own space and—”

“I know he’s a dick.” he agrees, pulling on his socks and slipping his feet into his sneakers. “But he’s my only family. I’m not just gonna ditch him. Why don’t you move in with me?” he wonders.

“Um… I live in a townhouse instead of an apartment and it’s better, it’s in a better neighbourhood and your brother isn’t here.” you smile, smugly, and it earns a chuckle from him.

“Okay, you’re right about that. Speaking of which though I can’t stay tonight but you can come over if you want. I’ll order those hash browns for you tomorrow when I’m on my to the gym. I’m booked with PT sessions my entire shift.”

“I’m not waking up at 6am to eat hash browns alone, Yuuji.” you roll your eyes.

“You can text me when you wake up and I’ll order them for you. Pleeeeease?” he flutters his eyelashes dramatically before kissing your forehead. “Good girl.”

“I didn’t say yes?” you respond, flabbergasted. “Is Sukuna gonna be there?”

“Well, yeah. He lives there.” Yuuji tells you, earning an eye roll from you. He is in complete agreement on how much his older brother sucks. He understands why you hate him. He’s irritating, he’s crass and seems to have no concept of personal space or privacy. Yuuji doesn’t care for his brother in the least, and he has no doubt the feeling is mutual. There is love there, of course, but only out of necessity. “You don’t seem to mind him when the family discount applies for weed, though. Interesting.” he says with faux suspicion.

“Okay, that is literally the only thing he’s good for.” you remind him. He laughs, agreeing.

He kisses your lips chastely, hurrying to grab his backpack to hurry home to his expectant brother. The only two reasons he ever leaves you in haste are for work, or for Sukuna. Today was meant to be a day you could spend together since you both have the day off.

But of course, Sukuna ruins everything.

YUUJI: FORGOT TO ASK YUUJI: ARE WE SMOKING TONIGHT? YOU: DUH! YUUJI: BETTER BE NICE TO SUKUNA FOR THAT FAMILY DISCOUNT THEN 😉

You stand outside of your boyfriends apartment complex, shivering, waiting for somebody to answer the door. He ordered a taxi for you since he knows you always worry about your car getting broken into when you visit, his own car suffering numerous break-ins in the span of your relationship.

And really, you don’t want somebody to answer the door. You want it to be Yuuji, specifically, the thought of Sukuna answering the door and tormenting you until you get to the safety of Yuuji’s room is entirely too much to handle. Your nerves are already shredded by being here, the thought of having a battle of words with Sukuna will surely tip you over the edge.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t think you’d get here so quickly.” you hear a voice from behind you. You turn around to see Yuuji. Fuck. You see the hallway light flicker on from under the crack of the front door to his apartment and you realise too late that a demon has been summoned. “I went and got cookie ingredients, I thought we could bake some before we smoke later.”

“Sounds fun.” you smile, his sweet idea assuages the tension you feel, albeit briefly, before his elder brother swings open the front door. Yuuji pulls his lips into a thin line when you can barely contain the scoff that scratches through your throat. Sukuna rolls his eyes, moving aside to let you both in. He peaks inside the bag Yuuji is holding before his little brother smacks his hand away. “Do not touch or I will kill you.” Yuuji warns him, carrying the ingredients to the kitchen before putting them away.

You decide to help, hoping it will go quicker if you pitch in and you can escape his brother’s intimidating stare faster. Sukuna approaches, leaning over a counter as he watches you both.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, princess. It’s been a while.” Sukuna taunts, but you ignore him. He clacks his fingernails against the countertop, and the sound is jarring. He smirks when you shoot him a pointedly aggravated stare, giving him reason to do it more. “What do we owe the pleasure?”

You sigh, nostrils flaring as you put two bars of chocolate in the fridge.

“We’re just hanging out, gonna bake these cookies and smoke.” Yuuji answers for you. So you smile, falsely, and rest your back against the wall once you’re done. “Oh, speaking of which… family discount?”

“I’m busy now.” Sukuna looks at you and then back at his brother. “Ask me later.” he expresses, red eyes fixed on you for a moment before he turns to leave.

It’s like you can finally breathe again when you hear him go to his room and close the door. You kick yourself away from the wall and into Yuuji’s open arms. He smooths his heavy hand over your hair, hoping you’ll relax a little. He spends some time figuring out what you can do to pass some time, knowing you’ll need a distraction.

“Let’s just bake the cookies.” you speak, words muffled as you talk into his shirt. You pull away as he looks down at you so that you can speak to him clearly. “I just wanna stay in your room all night…”

“Sure, baby, whatever you want.” he nods. “Okay, lets get all of the ingredients out again.”

He takes his time trying to remember where everything is. You, on the other hand, are rushing to gather them all. Sukuna has a way of making your anxiety spike. He’s too… commandeering. He has a way of forcing everyone’s attention to remain solely on him whether you try to ignore him or not.

You’re intimidated by him, he’s more muscular than your boyfriend and he’s a drug dealer for fuck sake.

It brings shame to you when Yuuji has to snap his fingers to get you out of your trance as you think about his brother. You start cutting up the chocolate bars while he puts ingredients in the stand mixer.

And your mind wanders, again. It’s not like you’re scared of Sukuna. Well, you are, terrified would be more apt. But you know he wouldn’t do anything to you. He’d risk losing Yuuji. And as much as they don’t really get along, they’re extremely co-dependent. Especially Sukuna. He likes the presence of his little sibling and has a slight superiority complex due to being older.

The reality is, you think Sukuna would be lost without Yuuji. Lonely, even. And having Yuuji’s steady income is a nice sense of security for him. He makes plenty of money being a dealer, of course, but he knows it’s a fools game. It’s not reliable and it’s risky.

You put the chocolate chunks into the mixer and watch him as he masterfully fills the ingredients into the bowl. Your thoughts calm for a moment as you can do nought but watch the whisk whir.

“You know I wanna move in with you eventually, right?” Yuuji tells you, and it fully breaks you from your train of thought. You look at him, staying silent so that he can feel free to continue speaking. He leans against the counter as the ingredients continue to mix. “I wanna live with you… marry you… all that.”

His talk of marriage makes your cheeks fill with heat, though you’ve gotten better at playing things cool since your first encounter. You just smile, and nod, as you drink in the delicious information.

“I’m just worried about him.” he tilts his head, indicating he is referring to his elder brother. You nod in understanding, though you don’t have much sympathy for your future brother-in-law. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. “We aren’t like you, we don’t have a big family. It’s just us.”

“Well my family isn’t that—” you stop yourself, looking into Yuuji’s disappointed eyes. It’s foolish to pretend you aren’t blessed with an adoring family. You’re your parents only child, though. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have a sibling. And, of course, you’re spoilt rotten. The reality is that if you didn’t come from privilege, you and Yuuji could have been neighbours. But your parents weren’t about to let you live in a dangerous neighbourhood when they can easily afford to subsidise you. “It must be tough, baby. I know you feel guilty for wanting to leave him.” you rub your hand up and down his arm as a show of comfort.

“Yeah…”

“But…” you start, his eyes locking with yours again. “He’s a grown man, Yuuji. You’ve lived the same life and look at you now… You’re nothing like him.”

You’re right. He knows you are, that’s why you’re standing in silence until the timer goes off and he checks the ingredient bowl. It’s sticky. He scoops a little on his finger and dots it on your nose. The kitchen fills with laughter as you try to retaliate. He’s too fast for you, though.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” he tells you as the situation calms. He licks the chocolatey dough from your nose and presses a gentle kiss onto the tip. And dammit you can’t help but smile.

You begin rolling the dough into balls on a tray. The silence has dissipated, but your thoughts still run rampant. Should Sukuna really be Yuuji’s responsibility? No, of course not. But Yuuji won’t see it that way. He’s sensitive and caring. God, he cares so much.

It makes you dizzy as you watch him smile and walk with the cookies to the oven. They smell so great already, you could have eaten them raw. But they’ll be even better when they’re baked to perfection.

You’ve made these cookies so many times now. The pair of you have process committed to memory. They’re so good. Especially with a tall glass of milk. You always tease Yuuji when you do this since he’s always left with a milk moustache after devouring his plate of cookies.

The sound of the timer rings through the kitchen again. You clap excitedly as Yuuji covers his hands with some oven mitts. The chocolatey smell hits you both like a train, the pair of you moaning involuntarily as you inhale it. He brings them over to the countertop, setting them down to cool.

Sukuna smells it, too. He loves it when you bake cookies because he knows neither of you will deny him one. He’s been smoking and playing video games since he retreated to his room. He’s thoroughly stoned and would very much enjoy a sweet treat right about now. He pauses his game, and the sound of his door opening and closing brings back all of the tension to your body.

“Here.” Sukuna speaks as he enters the kitchen. He tosses a baggie onto the counter and looks at his brother expectantly. Yuuji nods, reaching into his pocket for his wallet so he can pay him. Sukuna’s eyes are fixed on you in the meantime. And as you go to grab the weed, he places his hand over it and pulls it back towards himself.

“Thanks, man.” Yuuji smiles, handing the cash to his brother who pockets it without even checking it’s right. Though Sukuna’s stare doesn’t waver, you find yourself looking down at his hand covering the weed and then turning away completely. He internally beams with pride at that, thrilled to know it’s still so easy to intimidate you. But on the outside it’s simply portrayed as a slight curve of the corner of his mouth. “Is something wrong?” Yuuji wonders.

“Yeah, actually,” Sukuna speaks, finding your eyes again before he looks into Yuuji’s. “I want a cookie, call it family tax.”

“Take two.” you tell him, sternly, a new ferocity in your eyes he hasn’t seen before. You walk over to them and place two cookies on a little plate for him. You go to hand it to him, but as he reaches out to grab them you place them down on the counter. “Let them cool.” you smile, sarcastically.

“Aren’t you sweet.” Sukuna snarls, teeth bared as he slides the plate towards himself. “Sweet enough for your turn. Pay up, you know what I want.” he chuckles. He turns his head and taps his finger against his cheek.

“C’mon, dude…” Yuuji tries to interject. You know Yuuji is furious, deep down. But he won’t call him out on it. Last time he did he wouldn’t give either of you any weed for two weeks. It wouldn’t be a problem if you knew anyone else you could buy from. And the shit Sukuna gets is good. Yuuji has given up on trying to be a dominating presence when it comes to living with his brother. Sukuna is always one step ahead and Yuuji can’t quite keep up.

You go to him, reluctantly, and plant a soft kiss to his cheek. It makes your skin crawl. He makes your skin crawl. And despite your sense of urgency to flee the scene, you can’t. His hand grabs your wrist, and Yuuji is ready to spring to action. Sukuna’s face is unbearably close to yours. His red eyes piercing your own as he does all he can to make you feel small and pathetic.

“That’s a good girl.” he sneers, placing the baggie on the top of your hand after releasing your wrist. He chuckles, darkly, as he walks away with his plate of cookies, taking a bite out of one before he disappears. He kicks his bedroom door shut behind himself, the sound of laughter and guns shooting loudly from his TV are the only thing either of you can hear.

“I’ll bring the cookies and clean up.” Yuuji sighs as he ventures to the sink. “Go and get comfy and pick a movie.”

You don’t say anything, leaving your boyfriend to tidy up in silence. You’re seething with rage. This isn’t right. He does this every single time you’re here and you buy a deal from him. And Yuuji just lets him. You know you neither of you have much choice if you want the access and ability to smoke. But it’s getting to you, badly.

Around fifteen minutes pass after you left the kitchen. You’ve since gotten into your sweatpants and comfortable vest. Shorts would have been preferable, since there’s still an uncomfortable sizzle to the November air, but you’ve learnt your lesson about what you wear when you visit the Itadori household. You’ve had Sukuna leer at your thighs more times than you can count. And it’s never subtle, his eyes lingering for a moment too long to have it potentially be an accident. It’s always so lecherous and purposeful.

You decide to watch Clueless, again. You’re sure Yuuji will be defeated when he sees your choice, he’s lost count of how many times you’ve watched it recently. It’s been a comfort movie to you, for some reason, since Halloween.

“Hey.” Yuuji smiles as he enters the room, somehow managing to carry two glasses of milk and two plates of cookies. “What are we watching?” he asks, looking at the TV. You rush to grab a plate and a glass from his hands to ease his load, putting them on your bedside cabinet as he does the same with his own.

“Clueless.” you smile, happily. “Her step-brother has been hitting really different for me, lately.”

He closes his eyes and stifles a sigh. You can see a laugh desperate to break free as his mouth shakes through a smile. But to his credit, he manages to compose himself, eyes opening again once the reality has set in. Clueless. Again!

“Sounds great baby.”

It’s been a week since you last got to spent time with Yuuji. Your work schedules have been clashing, it feels like a lifetime since you got to spend any time together.

You enjoyed your hash browns in bed after he ordered them for you when you stayed over at his place. Though he ended up ordering Sukuna breakfast, too, leading to uncomfortable extended time with him that you prefer to avoid at all costs. He tried to make conversation with you, he often does, but you took it upon yourself to go back to bed with your hash browns. You tried to enjoy them. You tried to relax. But it’s near impossible when you’re under the same roof as someone you loathe. You watched a Youtube video on your phone while you ate, and then quickly got ready and booked a taxi home.

You’d hoped next time you got to see your boyfriend it would be at your house and away from Sukuna. But, alas, that was not the case. You received a text from him at 10am asking you to come over ASAP.

YOU: is something wrong??

YUUJI: no

YUUJI: just stressed

YUUJI: pls can u come? I’m working tomorrow so I cant stay over ☹️

YOU: okay ☹️ omw 💖

You’ve never had a text like this from him before, and it scared you. Something was telling you that he was downplaying how he was feeling. It took you barely any time to get ready. Forgoing makeup and making an effort in favour of rushing to your boyfriend’s side. Maybe something had happened at work.

Maybe he cheated on you.

He could be dying!

“Shut up…” you whisper to yourself as you pack your toothbrush into its travel case and throw it into your overnight bag. You pick up your car keys, not wanting to waste time waiting for a taxi.

You throw your bag on the passenger seat and speedily drive off. Your anxiety and the adrenaline was getting to you, you knew you’d have to calm down or you’d end up getting into an accident. As you focused on getting to your destination in one piece, you took several deep, slow breaths.

You’re safe.

You park up your car and lock it up. With your bag in tow, you rush to your boyfriend’s apartment. Your left foot taps impatiently after you knock on the door.

No answer.

You knock a little louder.

No answer.

And then you find yourself knocking louder, repeatedly, while you wait for your boyfriend to answer the door. He knew you were coming. He said it was urgent. So why are you waiting here, freezing, for him to answer the door? You’re filled with relief when you see his figure obscuring the light trickling through the cracks of the door. Your teeth chatter, and you begin stepping from foot to foot in a bid to warm through.

But your blood runs cold as the wrong Itadori opens the door.

“Heh. What do you want?” he asks, a cocky grin permeating his features.

“Move.” you demand, barging past him with your bag so that you can hurry to Yuuji’s side. Maybe something is wrong. He could be sick and resting in bed.

“He’s not here.” Sukuna informs you, halting you in your tracks. You turn to face him, a scowl that could kill adorning your face. Did he do something to him? All fear you’ve ever felt from him dies as you approach him, setting down your bag so that you can hit or punch or scratch him if needs be. “Relax.” he tells you.

“Where is he?”

“At work. I thought you had your entire relationship on a Google calendar, you didn’t know?” he laughs, angling his body so that he can bypass you in the skinny hallway. You huff a little, picking up your bag again so that you can follow him.

“But he asked me to come over, he said it was urgent.” you explain, though he doesn’t stop walking. You hurry after him, grabbing his arm until he stops. And he does, his eyes slowly dart down to where your hand holds onto his bicep until you awkwardly let go. “S-Sorry. I’m just confused. Why would he text me if he’s not even here?”

“Sweetheart, I’m not his PA. I don’t fucking know.” he turns away from you again, opening his bedroom door. You huff, again, utterly defeated as you try and decide what to do. You look towards his bedroom door and then to the entrance. You suppose you could go home until he finishes work. Or you could go to the gym he works at and find out what’s happening. You head towards the front door, thinking you’ll decide once you start driving. Sukuna hasn’t fully retreated into his room yet, leaning against his door frame as he calls out to you. “I’m making a bucket, want one?”

Your eyebrows knot as you turn to face him, another involuntary scoff turning to laughter as you look at him in disbelief. He’s got some nerve. You don’t even want to respond, opting to carry on your journey towards the entrance before you look at him again.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I don’t want to smoke with you.” you roll your eyes.

“Awe, why not, princess? I won’t even add any tax.” he smirks, already heading towards the kitchen as if you’ve given him the answer he clearly wants to hear. And you hate him with your whole heart, because fuck, if you aren’t intrigued. It’s been a while since you’ve had a gravity bong. “Excellent choice, good girl.” he winks as he sees you out of the corner of his eye, as he grabs an empty one litre water bottle from beneath the sink.

You don’t say anything, leaning over the island counter as he prepares the bong for you both. It’s embarrassing, after some time, that you find yourself having to avert your gaze as realise you’ve been staring at his defined back muscles. He’d decided to forgo any form of clothing to cover his torso, only wearing a low riding pair of grey sweatpants, though they’re a darker grey than yours.

It isn’t much better as he whistles, tilting his head for you to join him by the sink. You’d close your eyes if it didn’t make you look like a complete freak, only to hide them from his flexing abs and his juicy pecs. The tattoos aren’t helping, either. It only serves as a reminder that you’re hopelessly trying not to ogle your boyfriends, older, larger, and scarier brother. He’s behaving interestingly, though. He’s never been like this before. He’s dismissive and almost uninterested in you.

“C’mere.” he orders you, dragging you closer to him as he lights the weed in the bowl. You gulp, a little intimidated. Gravity bongs are something you don’t partake in often, you can’t even remember the last time you did one. He moves his finger from the hole he’d poked into the bottle and the water begins to drain from it. Smoke fills the bottle in it’s wake, and when empty, he screws the lid off for you. “Quickly.”

You begin to inhale everything. Not caring how fucked up you feel in the least. You show no signs of stopping, and it impresses him. Your fingers hook around the kitchen counter as you finish, knowing when your bones feel like jelly that you’ve had too much.

“Atta girl,” he comments before repeating the process for himself. He pays you no mind as you wander towards the corner counter space, lifting yourself up like you’re the queen of the kitchen taking her throne.

He continues to ignore your presence as he smokes, inhaling and entirely draining the smoke that had filled the bottle. He tosses it into the sink, walking by you to grab a bag of ice from the freezer, filling two glasses to the brim with the frozen cubes. He fills them with water, sliding one to you.

“Drink.” he commands, and you do, not realising how thirsty you’d become. Your throat burning and eyes flooded with red veins. You drink the water and immediately need to refill. He shows you a kindness, though, handing you his glass to drink before filling your own again. “You’re a real lightweight, huh?”

“Oh shut up. I’m just gonna go.” you tell him, jumping down from the counter and going to collect your bag again.

“You can’t, you’re high.” he reminds you, and in your stoned state the sentence makes you burst into laughter. “You’ll end up crashing your car. Fool.” he gives you another glass of water, refilling his own for a second time before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Great, so I’m stuck here with you and nothing to do?” you pout, opening the fridge to see if there’s anything to eat. “Why did we not make cookies?” you mumble to yourself.

“I have snacks in my room.” Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, like a snake offering an apple in the garden of Eden. You’re tempted. God, you’re tempted. What else are you going to do until Yuuji gets home? He grins, widely, as he hears your feet follow after him as he walks into his bedroom.

You’ve never been in here before. It’s quite tidy, all things considered. It’s very tidy, actually. You’d expected it to be some dimly lit shit hole. It smells nice, save for the weed, the windows are open wide and the sheets smell fresh as you sit on his bed.

He throws a sleeve of Oreos at you and you turn into a giddy child. The two of you kick off your shoes, not caring for where they land as you both get comfortable on his bed. You’re above the duvet, sitting adjacent to him but angled away with your legs crossed. He gets under the covers, though, picking up his Xbox controller as he mindlessly plays GTA V.

You spend far too much time licking the cream of your first Oreo, utterly entranced by the characters, the plot and the violence of the game he’s playing. He doesn’t seem to mind when you ask him a million questions about it, either. He’s more amused that you’re so clueless.

“Here,” he tosses the controller at you. “Go for a drive, it’s fun when you’re stoned.” he tells you.

You’ve played video games before, you aren’t a total idiot. Though he had expected you to ask for more help when he gave you the controller. He thinks it’s cute that you try to obey the speed limits and stop at every red light.

He reaches into his bedside cabinet, pulling out a joint. It’s ignited quickly, his eyes squinting as he inhales and watches the screen to make sure you’re not getting him into trouble on his game.

“You’re not bad when you’re high.” you tell him, passing the controller back to him. He takes it from you, saving his progress before reaching out to smoke again. He sits upright, and you barely react when he pulls you away from where you were sitting until you're facing him. “U-Um…”

He’s giving you a look. That look. The look Yuuji gave you when he told you he had a secret. God, they could be fucking twins if Sukuna wasn’t covered in tattoos, it’s scary. But he doesn’t say he has a secret; he doesn’t say a word. He simply watches you with a pondering stare, but an aim behind his eyes nonetheless.

Your own eyes shift when you see him bring the spliff from his ashtray to his lips. The cherry end of it igniting holds your focus before your eyes are on his again, enraptured by the moment and what he’s thinking. He sucks the smoke deep down into his lungs, and you can’t help but watch the way his chest moves from his heavy breath.

You gasp, softly, as he snatches your stare once again. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and tug downwards until your jaw is lowered. His face is barely a centimetre from yours, you know he’s going to kiss you. But why are you about to let him? His lips ghost yours, and you’re taken aback as you feel a plume of smoke invade your mouth. He’s impressed when you breathe it in, though, but smirks wildly as you begin to cough it up.

“You taste like cookies and cream.” he whispers into your ear, the sensation of his words rushes straight to your heat. But your sense comes back, pushing him away from you as you look sternly into his eyes.

“I didn’t say you could do that.” you remind him, preparing to move back to where you were sitting prior. But he stops you, easily, pushing your body down until your head is in his lap but over the duvet cover. “Sukuna…” you sigh, your head and your limbs feel too heavy to move on their own anymore.

“Mm?”

“I’m wi- I’m with Yuuji… I’m with your brother.” you remind him, you move your head a little so that you can look up at him. He doesn’t look at you, though, still focused on his game. You can hear dialogue again, and guns, you’re not as exciting in comparison to that, you suppose.

“I know.” he speaks, his jawline bulging as he swallows and clenches his teeth slightly. “Don’t tell me you thought I was gonna kiss you. Silly girl.” he speaks, still not bothering to grant you with the eye contact you’re so desperately craving for some reason.

But your body betrays you as a whimper escapes from your throat. And that does get his attention. His game pauses, and he looks down at you. But you hide your face, scrunching your eyes shut so he can’t read your expression. But your shy little display tells him all he needs to know.

“Oh? You minx,” he torments you further, and you want to scream. You can’t hide your face anymore, your cheeks becoming too warm and your entire body sizzling with heat. You’re panting, uncomfortably as you try and cool down. “You wanted me to kiss you. You��re with Yuuji, remember?”

“I didn’t! I- I- would never. I love Yuuji, I’m in love with him! I’d never kiss you. Yuck.” you fib, if you weren’t high, you know you’d never be in this predicament. You know you’d never have agreed to hang out with him. But really, it’s a lie. You weren’t high when he asked if you wanted to do buckets. He intrigued you, and you’re a fool, because you fell for it. Hook, line and sinker.

“Hm…” he hums, his spliff resting between his lips as his eyes linger on your cleavage before roaming down your body to your sweatpants. He places the blunt back in the ashtray, his eyes setting their sights on your hands. He moves one with ease above your head, though you instinctively pull it back. But it’s too late, the other one joins, a singular hand of his pin both of your wrists down above your head. You wriggle against him, but you don’t pose a challenge in the least.

“S-Sukuna?” you question as his fingers breach the waistline of your sweatpants. A sadistic smirk sprawls across his face as he realises in your haste to be here you’d not bothered putting on panties. You mewl, desperately, as his fingers find your petalled flesh. He doesn’t do much, simply feeling your slick and teasing your folds as he examines your facial expressions.

“You didn’t want me to kiss you?” he asks again. He drags two fingers up your slippery slit until he finds your clit, rubbing targeted circles around it slowly. The tension makes your hips buck, but his face is stern as he watches you keen for him. “Then why is this cunt soaked?”

His words almost bring you to tears, and he can tell. The way they fill with water so rapidly and your face becomes sweaty. You’re ashamed. You’re embarrassed. He’s humiliating you, but you’re too turned on to tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop.

“I hate you!” you tell him, and there is certainly venom behind it. Because you mean it, you really fucking mean it. He’s the absolute worst. You’re so in love with Yuuji, but he’s ruined everything, now. You should have known this would happen. He’s been flirting and teasing and bothering you throughout your entire relationship with Yuuji. But you never thought it would come to this, ever. Especially after what you’ve been through, you’d never want to inflict that same agonising betrayal onto Yuuji.

“I know. You think I’m so beneath you, yeah?” he grins, and your mouth falls open in surprise, though his circling touch doesn’t stop. “I’m a drug dealer, I’m a bastard, I’m a piece of shit. But, sweetheart, me ‘n Yuuji didn’t grow up with daddy’s bank account like you. But look at you, princess. You hate me and you’re still letting me play with your sloppy cunt.”

“Fuck you.”

“You can, I know you want that. You’re drenched. My fuckin’ fingers are pruning.” he laughs, you want nothing more than to cover your face in shame, but you can’t while Sukuna’s heavy hand trap your wrists. “Awe, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Much cuter than when you’re trying to be tough f’me.” his rubbing halts, though the sense of abandonment is short lived as he plunges two thick fingers into you tight hole, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit again.

“O-Oh, fuck, hnng—” you groan, eyes meeting his as he pleasures you. And he drinks in the sight. Your tongue lolled from your mouth as you accommodate his touch, the pads of his fingers batter your g-spot again and again until your back arches. “Sukuna, s-stop, we can’t.” you warn him.

He smirks, ignoring you, opting to do the opposite. He increases the pace in which his fingers torment you, his cock leaks when he sees a few tears spill from your eyes. He’s that good, huh? Maybe his little brother isn’t as talented.

“You’re fucking tight. You’re gonna cum, aren’tcha?” he taunts you, you attempt to clamp your thighs around his hand, but it only spurs him on more. His fingers sink deeper. Your mind and rationale become lost to him. “You’re gonna cum for a bastard like me? Your boyfriends brother, too. Gonna cum in your pants like a virgin just for me? Pathetic little girl.”

“Oh FUCK, GOD!” you cry out, thighs trembling around his hand as you orgasm. Your chest heaves, and he doesn’t fail to notice how your nipples have began to poke through your vest. “C-Christ, okay, lets just forget—”

“I’m not done with you.” he speaks, it cuts through you as he lets your hands go. You massage them quickly, before he pushes his full weight on top of you as you lie flat against the mattress atop the sheets. He holds your jaw, roughly, and kisses you.

He humps his clothed, hard cock against your soaked sweatpants, your slick dampening them with each roll of his hips. He breathes heavily as you kiss. An exchange of saliva and clashing teeth as you moan and break away before licking at each other’s tongues again and again.

You shudder when you feel him put his hands down your pants again, collecting the dewiness at the apex of your thighs before forcing it onto your tongue. And you suck, gratefully, replacing the loss of his lips with his monstrously thick fingers. You can hardly believe he fingered you so easily.

Your lips wrap around his digits beautifully. He moans as he watches your little hands in comparison to his own hold it in place so you can bob your head up and down the length, your tongue licks and laves until there isn’t a trace of your dewiness left.

So he kisses you, again, tongues tangling as he dry fucks his cock into your clothed core. His hands roam and pinch and squeeze every inch of your body that he can grab. He yanks your sweatpants down, tossing them aside with little care to where they might land. And he surprises you, again, when he manoeuvres you seamlessly so that you’re straddling him.

He thinks it’s cute as you look around, unsure of how you got into this position. But he brings you back to him when he humps up into you so that you fall forwards. You kiss him again, but he breaks it to speak.

“Let me taste you, baby. Sit on my face.” he tells you. You’re nervous, but you move yourself so that you’re hovering above him. He pushes a finger into your hole and you throw your head back in satisfaction. “I said sit. I wanna know what a slutty princess cunt tastes like, so fucking sit.” he orders, his arms hooking around your thighs and forcing you down until you smother him with your heat.

“FUCK,” you moan, loudly, as his nose nudges against your throbbing clit. You aren’t sure what to do with so much freedom to move. The way he slurps and feasts on your dripping flesh sends wave after wave of embarrassment through you. And he’s loud he’s so fucking noisy as he moans into your heat and drinks every drop that your heavenly cunt has to offer. “J-Jesus… ah—!” you yelp, feeling his palm come down hard to strike your behind.

You begin to roll your hips, rubbing your pussy up and down over his face and stimulating your clit with his nose. He reaches under your vest, tweaking your nipple as you hump his face. He spanks you again, quickly, as you stop moving. You’re too gone, completely lost in the moment as you use him for your pleasure. You’d never have expected this from him.

He relinquishes your nipple to free his cock from it’s material prison. You heard the sticky sound of it ring through the room as he jerks himself off. His moaning becomes louder. The divine taste of your cunt and the ability to stroke himself goes straight to his head. You’re gone, you’re fucking gone. But he’s right behind you. The way you’re smothering him makes him lightheaded, but he’s not letting you go until he’s ready.

You see the pink silhouette of his cock as you look over your shoulder, but you’re desperate to get a better view. He groans, so loudly that you think he might have came, as you tug on his pink hair. Using it to your advantage as you ride his face into your next toe-curling orgasm. And at that, you do collapse. Practically singing his name as you cum in his mouth, only when you’ve reached your high does he let up on you.

He admires the view of your tits as you back up to look down at him, throwing your vest over your head as carelessly as he’s discarded your pants. His face is shimmering with your juices, and you feel another searing tidal wave of embarrassment as the reality sets in that you’ve done this to him. And you’re still cheating on your boyfriend. But you’re past the point of no return, you think. Yuuji is barely on your mind, all of your attention is on his brother, now.

And he’s still not through with you yet.

“Do you need some cock?” he asks.

“Y-Yes.” you nod, pathetically.

“Look at it, then. Look at my cock and beg for it.” he tells you.

You adjust your position so that you’re hovering above his face again but facing his cock perfectly. It’s beautiful, you think. More defined than Yuuji’s but around the same size and width. His cockhead is more prominent and the veins are unmissable. You’d have begged without even being asked if you’d gotten the chance to see it earlier.

“Go on,” he starts. You feel his hands between your shoulder blades and he pushes you down roughly. “Beg for my cock, whore.”

“Please, please Sukuna. I need you to fuck me.” you start, completely reduced to tears as you look at it as your mouth waters. You hold him with both hands, and you’re still unable to hold the entire length of it. “Wanna cum on you. W-Want you to b-bruise my cervix. Need to feel you inside, please, please please.” you’re practically sobbing as you continue.

“Kiss it.” he demands. “Worship my cock, and I’ll decide if your slutty cunt is worthy.” he tells you. Your eyes widen, but you kiss his tip without question. It’s so sweet and affectionate despite how sordid and lewd it is. But you can’t help it. It’s worthy of worship. You’re sure it’ll hurt, but you’ll take it. You don’t mind in the least.

You lick your tongue across his slit, poking your tongue into it slightly and relishing in how he hisses from the sensation. He buries his face in your cunt again, moaning into your soaking folds as you please him.

His length is freed from one of your hands, making the decision to cup his balls as your kiss down his shaft towards his pubis. His head is thrown back as you make contact with his balls, the grunt he releases is ethereal, you’d never have known such beautiful sounds could from him.

You scream, slightly, as he spanks your ass. It encourages you to take him down your throat and ignore your gag reflex and you bob and suck and run your tongue along each vein it can detect. He can barely focus on eating you out, too bewildered with your near pornographic performance.

“Such a good little cocksucker. No wonder Yuuji likes you.” he spanks you again. “Think he’d still like you if I told him I’ve been balls deep down your throat, slut? I’m not so sure. But I like you, a lot more now.”

“S-Shut up.” you tell him, defiantly. You silence him as you lower your pussy to his lips again, distracting him momentarily with your sweet taste.

You feel his cock flexing in your hand, like he’s ready to blow his load right down your willing throat. Even though you don’t want him to cum like this, you wouldn’t mind. You’ll swallow every last drop for him.

He stops you, though, shoving you away from him so that he doesn’t cum prematurely.

“Hands and knees, now.” he speaks coldly. He admires your face quickly before you get into the position he wants you in. It’s glistening with sweat, tears, spit, and his precum. “Good fucking girl.” he spanks you as you arch your back and wait patiently for him. Your legs spread apart and your cunt pulses in anticipation for him to slot himself inside.

He doesn’t though, not right away. Instead, he leans over to his beside table and pulls his phone off charge. He kneels behind you as he pulls up the camera app and swiping to video mode. His sweatpants are shoved down his thighs and rest at his knees. He takes a few photos of your glittering, pulsating cunt, spreading it open as his fingers dig into one of your ass cheeks.

“Pretty fuckin’ princess pussy…” he moans, and you mirror him, following it with a giggle. You feel a sense of pride at his praise, arching your back deeper. “Ohhh there she is, good girl, good little slut.”

He drags his cockhead through your shimmering folds, gasping each time it catches against your hole.

“P-Please fuck me, daddy, n-eed it.” you whine, earning another hard slap against your ass. He’s happy, of course. He didn’t expect you to be such a slut, he’d never have expected you to utter such a filthy title for him of all people. He’s certainly never heard you refer to Yuuji as daddy whenever he hears you fucking through the thin walls.

“You’ve got good manners, for a whore.” he speaks, your hole flutters with each word, but he sees how hard you clench as he degrades you. A new understanding of what your body likes. He’d only been doing it for his benefit, but now, he knows you like it too. “Do you like being a whore for daddy, hm?”

“Y-Yes,” you pant, “Love bein’ a whore for you, daddy…”

“Cute. I’ll give you my cock, then.” he pushes the tip in before pulling out completely again, chuckling at how whiny you are from the loss. “But you know, princess, good whores like to be cummed in. You’ll let me, won’t you?”

“Please… please cum inside. W-Want you to fill me up!” you tell him, and it’s enough. It’s more than enough to have him bullying his cock into your desperate cunt. You moan, boisterously from the stretch. You’re sure their neighbours won’t be happy if they’re home, the whole complex probably heard you. But you don’t care, and neither does he.

He’s glad that you said he could cum inside.

It’s not like you had a choice, though.

“Do you still want me to bruise your cervix?” he asks, angling the phone in his hand to capture how fucking deep he is inside of you. Your ass pressed flush against him as you swallow his cock hungrily. You nod, dumbly, yelping again when you feel a stinging slap against your cushioned ass. “Words.”

“Want you to br-uuise my c-cervix, daddy.” you wince.

“You’re such a good fuck toy, aren’t you?” he laughs.

He begins to pound into you, his brute strength and weight behind every aggressive pummel of his hips. It hurts, God, it fucking hurts as his tip nudges against your cervix. But you don’t care, you’re sure you will when you’re sober and your logical train of thought returns.

But now, in this moment, you truly are Sukuna’s fuck toy.

And it feels fucking sublime.

He captures on film the way that you moan and gasp and plead for something you aren’t even aware of. The way your hands grip into his pristine white sheets. But is favourite part is watching how your pussy stretches open as you swallow his coke can cock. And the way your ass ripples with each pulverizing thrust into you.

“F-Fuck,” he moans, “You’re fucking suffocating me.” he speaks, barely able to contain himself as he feels heady with lust. He doesn’t stop, though, he doesn’t care if you cum anymore. He’ll finger you again to finish you off if needs be, but for now, he needs to be selfish. Thoughts of filling you up and flooding your unprotected womb make him feral.

“Sukuna! S-Stop!” you warn him.

“Huh?” he responds, showing no intention of stopping or slowing as he rams his cock into you repeatedly. The only thing on his mind is finishing, he couldn’t care less about your change of heart or guilty conscience.

“F-Feels funny, I- I can’t! Hnnng—!” you finish, cunt squirting and gushing like a fountain all over him. “Oh my god…” you pant, burying your face in the pillows as you hide your shame from him.

“Holy fuck,” he responds, thrilled that he’d captured the moment on film. You show no signs of stopping either. You squirt as much as a backed-up teenager getting his first handjob. He spanks your pussy and rubs his hand all over it, making a complete mess of the two of you and the sheets below. “Dirty little squirter, hah? Fuck, you’re like a pornstar.” he tells you, chuckling again.

You don’t dare show your face, but you mewl into the pillows as you ride out the rest of your high as he shoves his cock back into you.

“Do it again, on my cock.” he demands.

“C-Can’t, can’t cum anymore.” you tell him, utterly spent and defeated as you allow him to use your body for his own benefit.

“Brat. You’ll cum on daddy’s cock and be grateful that I’ve been so good to you.” he explains. And true to his word, he manages to build it up in you again, somehow, as he continuously batters his length into your g-spot until your vision turns white.

He’s not doing much better, either, still enraptured by the sight of your dripping wet pussy and soiled sheets. It’s something he needs to see again, a sight he will treasure ‘til the day he fucking dies.

“Cum, slut. Make a fucking mess.” he speaks through gritted teeth.

“Mmmnf, hah, aaaah—!” you moan, granting his wish. The sight helps him topple over into his own bliss. His cum flooding your ruined walls, he fucks it further into you, but pulls out eventually to see his sperm dripping from your filthy cunt.

“Are you embarrassed, brat? You sprayed yourself again.” he snickers, spreading your pussy open with two fingers to see the mixture of his cum and your release spill from your twitching hole. “Has Yuuji ever made you do that? No… I’m sure he doesn’t know you’re this much of a dirty whore. But I do, I know now.”

The mere mention of the man you’ve betrayed has you bursting into tears. The sex was mind-blowing, yes, but at what cost? You’ve been begging him to move in. Hell, he was talking about marrying you. But you can’t have that with him, now, not after this.

You sobered up a little after a shower, making sure to keep the door locked as you washed yourself of your indiscretion. You even waited in there until you dried off to get changed, not wanting to risk Sukuna seeing you naked again. The damage is done, of course, but you at least want to be able to proudly say it was a mistake that will never happen again.

Maybe Yuuji will forgive you.

There’s no way you can keep it from him. Not after what you went through. It’ll break his heart, of course it will. But you can’t hide it, it’ll just get worse over time when it eventually comes out, because it will. Whether you tell him or Sukuna does through a weed induced stupor, the truth will come out.

You’ve been checking the time on your phone repeatedly to see if Yuuji has finished work yet. Eager and filled with fear and anxiety so that you can tell him, honestly, what happened. He’s going to hate you. There’s no way he won’t hate you after this. But you owe it to him and you owe it to yourself to be truthful.

You tense up as you hear a knock at the door. Yuuji wouldn’t knock, so you know who it is.

“Go away.” you warn him, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Aw, don’t talk to daddy like that.” he smiles, a shit eating grin that you want to smash against concrete.

“You’ve ruined my life, get out of here.” you tell him, crossing your legs as you check the time on your phone again. You sigh, throwing it further down the bed so that it’s out of reach. You’d missed how he shrugged his shoulders with a laugh as he turned to leave. But you stop him. “Don’t tell Yuuji, please. I want to be the one to tell him.”

“Tell him… what?”

You look at him, bewildered, unable to process if he’s being serious or not.

“That we fucked.” you remind him, deciding you aren’t about to spend all day trying to decipher his tone. “I need to be the one to tell him, so don’t say anything.”

“Oh, tell him that?” he questions, laughing again as he realises he knows something you don’t know.

“It’s not fucking funny, Sukuna!”

“Yeah, it is, you’re a little slow on the uptake.” he laughs some more, sitting on the edge of the bed. His ruby red eyes piercing into yours intimidatingly despite the smile on his face. “You don’t need to tell Yuuji anything.”

“Yeah, I d—”

“Yuuji knows.” he laughs, louder, almost bursting into hysterics as he sees the astonished look on your face.

“W-What?” you sigh, looking around the room in horror.

“Yeah… I mean, c’mon.” he smirks. “Why else would he text you to come over, when he wasn’t even home?”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[miyaagis]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐I desire violently—and I wait. gojo satoru

political unions are means to strengthen a clan, and you were lucky enough to willingly accept his affections and give him an heir—a son. so, why does he need backup heirs from other women?

(sequel to 444)

explicit content‐mdni. ₊˚⊹ ⚝ clan head!gojo, wife+mom!reader, infidelity, hurt little comfort, angst, jealousy, gojo being a boy dad, unnamed three-year-old baby gojo, pet names (honey, love), mentions of breeding and pregnancy.

word c. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ a bit over 1,000

clan head gojo art inspo

the gojo estate had always been blessed with bright landscapes during winter.

gray skies blended seamlessly with the light colored buildings, graced by the light rain (even with monsoon season still months away) and a calm atmosphere brought by the cold mornings.

"fishie c'mere."

your son wiggled his little fingers inside the water of the fishpond, squealing in delight when a fish splashed next to him. the three-year-old turned to look at you, bright eyes shimmering with mirth and child-like wonder.

"kōhaku!"

still crouched next to the pond, he loudly repeated what he had been taught recently by his governess.

even at his young age, his curiosity for the world surrounding him seemed endless, constantly having the clan's nannies on their toes only to get his way with that charming smile he clearly inherited from satoru.

"is that my mochi!?"

the exaggerated gasp from your husband quickly caught the little boy's attention, searching for his dad by turning his head left and right.

satoru's grip around his son came from behind, his little sandals falling from his feet as he's thrown up in the air before landing safely in his father's arms.

"papa, look! kōhaku!"

your husband gasps, dangling the boy over the pond as they watched the fish swim, "woahhh! my son is so smart!"

the little boy giggled as satoru littered his chubby cheeks with kisses, getting thrown over his dad's shoulder as they made their way towards you.

"good morning, my love," he leaned down to peck your lips, smiling tenderly at you. "has the little squirt been giving you any trouble?"

"he woke up an hour ago" you sighed, and he could perfectly picture you handling the cranky boy all by yourself.

"mama, i'm hungry." your son whined, letting his head fall against satoru's shoulder as he pouted adorably. "tummy hurts."

"go wash up, I'll handle breakfast," seeing the tired look on your face, he knew he had to cut you some slack and do his part as a parent. "take as long as you need, sweetheart."

with a kiss on your temple and a thankful smile from you, he sent you back to your shared bedroom while he took your little one to the kitchen.

"c'mon, mochi. let's go make mama something yummy."

—

two hours earlier.

satoru felt the warm embrace of his mistress nuzzling against him, her arms wrapped around his middle, and their legs tangled together under the thick comforter.

the sun wasn't even up, but the birds already chirped loudly through the window.

her faint sigh caught his attention, pulling her closer by throwing her leg over his hip while caressing the smooth surface of her thigh. they didn't even bother with clothes the night before, cocooning against each other after falling limply on the bed.

small kisses had warmth blooming on her skin, the comforting heat shared between their nude bodies as they stayed cuddled together.

"again?"

the clear disbelief in her tone made him chuckle, grunting softly as he pulled half of her body on top of his.

"I have to make sure it takes."

she hummed and smiled sleepily, pressing her lips onto his as he nudged her bare folds with the crown of his shaft right before sinking in her warmth.

they both felt their bodies ease up in relief, soft sighs exchanged in between sloppy kissing as he lazily thrust inside her.

satoru kept his face nuzzled against her neck, breathing her in while his arms wrapped around her. eventually, his lips moved back to her mouth in need of intimacy, the languid strokes of their tongues matching the steady pace of their lovemaking.

it didn't take him long to feel his member twitch and throb, emptying another load of his seed inside the woman, murmuring sweet nothing's as his length softened and slipped out of her.

satoru found it easy to fall asleep again with his mistress in his arms.

—

the fabric of your robes rustled silently around your feet—which seemed glued to the floor, as you watched her exit the main house of the gojo estate after another meeting between the Gojo's and her own clan.

her eyes met yours, and her hand immediately went to her flat stomach, as if protecting it, which made you scoff. and it only worsened when your husband held her hand as he helped her descend the wooden stairs.

all you could offer was a blank, emotionless stare, your sleeping son carefully held in your arms with his face hidden in the crook of your neck.

her eyes went to him, and your instincts screamed at you to shield him from her. what else did she want from you? was she after your son as well?

satoru swiftly rushed his mistress towards the exit so he could go back to you, having seen your distress. once he met you at the entrance of your own home, his frame interrupted your stare-down with the woman.

"let's go inside, honey." his tone was calm and gentle, coaxing you to let the issue go and head inside, but you didn't move. "please?"

"have you fulfilled your part of the deal?"

the coldness of your gaze had your husband pouting like a kicked animal. he ached to reassure you of his love, but he was quickly running out of ways to prove it.

"yes, I have."

wordlessly, you turned around with your son cradled close to you, his little fingers clinging onto your robes and satoru right behind you.

"my love, I hold no feelings. you know this already."

his reassurance was of little to no use. how he expected you to accept him impregnating another woman was beyond you.

"it's a political union," he vehemently said, knowing he had to convince you that she'd never become a wife of his. he'd give her a child—a backup heir—in exchange for her clan's resources and political ties. "I hold no feelings. you are my wife and the mother of the gojo clan's heir."

after putting down your son in his bed, making sure his soft hair was out of his forehead and the blanket kept him warm, you finally met satoru's gaze back.

"I don't want to know anything about her existence. don't ever bring her to my home again."

satoru nodded eagerly, willing to promise anything in order to end your sour mood. "I won't."

your son's room went silent besides the small breaths of his as he slept, unaware of the conflict worming inside his own home.

"but I will be out of our home more often." satoru knew he had to be careful with his words, blue eyes watching your reaction closely. there was no way to make it hurt any less, and he was finding it harder to conceal the excitement brimming from him. "she's pregnant."

satoru had to make sure the mother of his unborn baby had everything she wanted—him included.

[asgard23]

Part 3... I'm glad the reader went to Asgard to get away. Lord knows she deserved it. However, she jumped into bed with Thor rather quickly when she couldn't stand to be touched by Bucky. Has Bucky at least been trying to find her, or has he been railing Nat on a regular basis this whole time? Will the reader ever get to confront that evil.duo? Will Bucky grovel and beg for forgiveness? What about Nat? Will she grovel or just not care since she is so in love with Bucky? Are they a thing now? Tony called the reader back to the compound. Will the showdown happen then? Was Tony the one who saw them?? Sorry for so many questions.

No problem at all! I love the involvement 😭😭😭

So I don’t want to give all of it away so I can’t answer everything. But I will say I did try to relay, that is was over the course of time that caused the reader to have an attraction to Thor. I did try to convene how differently she looks at Bucky from Thor if that makes sense.

So like for Bucky while he did try for months. It was just not in the ways that helped and he ultimately was selfish. As for Thor he went out of his way for the reader so that she could heal. And she noticed the difference, hence the reason for her horniness 😂

Next chapter there will be confrontations, that’s all I can say without giving away important details😭😭😭

But let’s just say Bucky and Nat are not having a good time.

[maiiuelle]

what if rafe and reader are more than friends but they didn’t really put a label on it and even top and kelce noticed but rafe still has the occasional hookup and one night when reader was js thinking abt stuff and then she realizes that shes inlove with rafe but when she came over to tannyhill to confess and rafe answered with his hair all messed up and him shirtless and he basically smelled like sex and when rafe asks why shes there she randomly just runs away and cries in her car while driving home so basically just angst (does that make sense idk)

you feel like your going crazy, standing at tannyhill’s front stoop twiddling your thumbs.

your relationship with rafe cameron is complicated; you’d almost call it a situationship, but you couldn’t put a label on it. you’d been going to all of his parties to serve as arm candy, posed with him at the golf course, and hooked up with him more than once. it’s beyond casual, but he has yet to pop the girlfriend question. even with his little commitment, you’d been finding it hard to keep your mind off of him — or rather, what the two of you had done together. you have to mean more to him than he’s letting on.

so, you knock on tannyhill’s giant glass front door again, biting your lip nervously as you look over the texts you’d already sent him to let him know you were coming.

“hey! just thinking ab u.. are u free tn? <3” you asked right after work, hopping in the shower in hopes you could head straight to his place after.

“busy. work shit. u free on friday?”

“oh idk. sucks we cant do tn, i miss u.” you followed your message with a picture of you sitting on your pink bedsheets, posing in the mirror to show off your silky pajamas. you thought he just needed a little convincing, but he didn’t respond.

“can u call me before bed? sorry, i know u said ur busy.”

by then it had been an hour or two, still no response from rafe. you were pacing around your room. all you wanted was to spend time with him, even if that meant lounging around while he works. anything would do, you just couldn’t stay away.

you came to the conclusion had to show him how much you care somehow, and what better way than to go to tannyhill and confess your love for him — it would be like a romance movie, he’d probably be exhausted from work and happy to see you by then!

“i’m sorry if this is sudden, i just feel like i really need to see you. i’ll just drop by for a second xoxo see u soon”

suddenly, the front door swings open, revealing a very disheveled rafe cameron. his bangs are a mess, sweaty and strewn across his forehead. his whole face is red, his lips swollen, and all he’s wearing are blue flannel pajama pants. you’d seen him like this before, pussy drunk and stumbling around a dark room. your heart deflates as he pushes open the front door, familiar blue eyes squinting at you through the night. “the fuck are you doing? you’re gonna wake up my fuckin’ dad.”

“work shit, huh? really, rafe?” you snap, looking him over completely disgusted. “what’re you d—”

“nah, nah. i told you i was busy — did i not?” he cuts you off, holding a finger in your face and grabbing your upper arm with the other hand, making you jump. “could’a kept yourself from all this if you just listened to me, right? right?” he jostles you, like he could shake a response out of you, but you’re frozen. he lets you go at the sight of your face, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “fuckin’ figures.”

“are you.. high?” you pull your knit cardigan tighter around your shoulders, tears already beginning to brim your waterline at the utter betrayal.

rafe recoils, acting overly offended to take the heat off his obvious cheating. “you’re gonna talk to me like that at my own goddamn house? do me a favor — go home, and i’ll think about callin’ you.”

“don’t bother. asshole.” you cry, turning away. the last glimmer of hope you have is snuffed out when you hear the glass door slam behind him, leaving you alone once again.

defeated, you retreat back to your car, wiping your tear stained cheeks pitifully. you should have known, rafe cameron is a player.

➺ do you…

⟡ hear out rafe’s apology

OR

⟡ tell jj what rafe did

[onlypinkslut]

“just helping mama” your husband’s out of town. again. you call his best friend toji to help with the crib. a beer turns into something else. something warm. something wrong. and when your baby monitor blinks and your phone lights up with your husband’s name his mouth is still on your breast.

cw: nsfw 18+, infidelity, lactation kink, postpartum body worship, emotional cheating, nursing (adult), guilt, soft praise, oral fixation, angst

husband’s best friend!toji fushiguro x postpartum!f!reader

the phone felt heavy in your hand, the screen still lit with your husband’s name, his last message short and apologetic. “sorry babe, might be stuck at the site all week. maybe call toji?” you stared at it for a long second. then you sighed and tapped the next contact down.

the line barely rang before he picked up, voice low, rough around the edges like he’d just woken up or just didn’t care to hide it.

“hey.”

“hey. it’s me.” you tried to keep your voice steady, casual, like you hadn’t already thought too hard about what calling him might look like. “i, um… i need a favor.”

a pause. then that deep, familiar chuckle rumbled through the speaker.

“michael’s not home?”

you bit the inside of your cheek.

“yeah. he’s out of town again. said to call you if i needed anything.”

“of course he did.” there was a smile in his voice. something lazy. fond. maybe something else.

“what d’you need, princess?”

“just… some furniture. the crib came in early and i can’t lift it on my own. and there’s still the dresser for the guest room.”

another pause. longer this time. then a quiet sigh.

“i’ll be there in twenty.”

you ended the call and stood still for a second, the silence rushing in thick and low around you.

you weren’t wearing anything special just an grey tee and black leggings, your hair half-pulled up, skin bare but suddenly you felt every inch of yourself too clearly.

the weight in your chest. the softness around your stomach. the lingering ache behind your knees.

you hadn’t left the house in two days. you hadn’t slept properly in weeks. and now he was coming.

toji.

michael’s best friend since they were kids. the only one who never changed, never judged, never disappeared when things got hard.

big. quiet. always half-smirking like he knew things he shouldn’t.

he was there when you and michael got married. he was there when the baby came, standing awkward in the hallway with flowers and a cheap stuffed animal, pretending he hadn’t cried a little when he held her.

he always called you “mama” now. even when michael wasn’t around. especially when he wasn’t. and you hated how it made you feel. you tidied the living room without thinking, picking up stray toys, tossing a blanket over the laundry basket, tucking the edges of your shirt tighter around your chest.

the baby monitor blinked on the table. faint white noise crackling through it.

when the knock finally came, it wasn’t loud. just firm. casual. like he knew you’d already been waiting.

you opened the door, and there he was.

bigger than you remembered, shoulders stretching the black fabric of his tee, the line of his jaw rough with stubble, eyes scanning you slowly from head to toe.

he didn’t say anything at first. just stood there with one hand braced against the frame, head tilted slightly, mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

“you look tired,” he said finally, voice low and almost amused.

you rolled your eyes, stepping back.

“you always know how to greet a woman, huh?”

“just sayin’. you could’ve told me you needed more than just a crib built. looks like you haven’t slept in days.”

“i haven’t.” you shut the door behind him. “you want water or something before we start?”

“beer, if you got it.”

you grabbed one from the fridge and handed it to him without looking.

he cracked it open, took a long sip, then wandered to the boxes in the corner like he belonged there.

“crib first?”

you nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, watching as he crouched easily to rip the box open, muscles flexing under the sleeves as he pulled the pieces free.

“where’s the little one?”

“asleep. upstairs.”

he grunted softly. “good. don’t need her crying while i’m trying to figure out these bullshit instructions.”

you laughed a little, leaning against the wall. “thought you were good with your hands.”

he looked up, slow.

he smirked.

“i am. want me to prove it?”

you paused. blinked. flushed immediately.

his eyes didn’t leave yours.

“relax,” he muttered, chuckling. “just fucking with you.”

but he wasn’t.

not really.

and you both knew it.

you were sitting on the kitchen counter, legs crossed loosely, the hem of your cotton shorts brushing your thighs, still a little flushed from laughing too hard. your cheeks were pink, your eyes crinkled, your fingers curled around the neck of a beer bottle you had just handed him. condensation slipped down the sides, trailing over your knuckles, leaving a little puddle between your thighs where the bottle rested as you leaned forward. toji cracked the top without a word, twisting the cap off with a sharp flick, and his forearm flexed, the veins rising beneath skin still damp from sweat. he looked good like this casual, easy, muscles stretching under the sleeves of his faded shirt, his weight slouched into your kitchen like he had always belonged here.

he took a long sip, tilting the bottle, his throat bobbing slow as he swallowed. when he pulled away, his tongue darted out to catch a drop at the corner of his mouth, and the corner of his lip twitched like he knew you were watching. maybe he did. he always seemed to know when you were.

the air was warm, thick with the quiet scent of summer dusk and the lingering trace of effort. he had just finished dragging the dresser and crib into the baby’s room, arms flexed and shirt tugged high, your baby sleeping through it all in the other room. your husband had promised to do it two weeks ago but never followed through. just like he’d promised he’d be home early tonight, and every night before that.

but it was toji who had shown up. it was always him.

the conversation had slipped into something light, almost nostalgic. dumb stories about michael in college, about how reckless he used to be, how clueless he was around girls. you laughed more than you had in weeks, your body relaxing, the tightness in your shoulders fading as your voice softened. and he watched you the entire time. his gaze never wandered, never flinched. it was steady, grounding. different than how your husband looked at you now, if he looked at all.

he leaned against the other counter, elbow propped beside the sink, bottle resting in his palm like it belonged there. “so how you holdin’ up?” he asked eventually, and it came out quiet, sincere, the kind of question people usually forgot to ask. “with everything.”

you exhaled, slow and tired. your hand brushed your hair out of your face, fingers tangling briefly. “some days are okay,” you murmured, your voice a little smaller now, “some days i feel like i’m floating above my own life watching someone else live it.”

he didn’t laugh. didn’t try to fix it. he just sipped his beer again and let the silence hang there like he was making space for it.

you stared at the label on your bottle, fingers picking at the paper. “my body’s not mine anymore. i don’t sleep. i don’t think i’ve eaten a full meal in two weeks. and everything just… hurts. my boobs, especially.” your voice cracked a little at the end, and you almost laughed to cover it up. “they’re so fucking sore. like, even the shower water stings. they’re swollen and sensitive and just, like, way too big now.”

his eyes shifted then slow and heavy, dragging from your face down to your chest and back up again. he didn’t try to hide it.

“i noticed,” he said, and it should’ve sounded cocky, but it didn’t. it was quiet, maybe even reverent. “not in a bad way. they’re just… different. rounder. fuller.”

you felt the heat crawl up your neck immediately. you laughed, half-scandalized, half-flattered, shaking your head like you could brush it off. “yeah, well. that’s what breastfeeding does. turns you into a walking vending machine.”

he smiled, lazy, lifting the bottle to his lips again. “michael’s a lucky bastard,” he muttered, but the way he said it didn’t sound like admiration. it sounded like regret.

you looked at him then, really looked, and your stomach twisted. there was something heavy in his expression. something unreadable. and for a long second neither of you spoke.

then toji tilted his head slightly, voice dropping just a little lower, just enough to press against your skin like the edge of a blade. “can i see them?”

the words settled in the air with a weight you weren’t ready for. your fingers tightened around the glass instinctively, the room too still.

he raised his hands slowly, like he was joking, like it was harmless. “just look,” he added. “not touch. nothing bad. michael doesn’t need to know. it’s not cheating if it’s just… curiosity.”

you blinked. your thighs pressed a little tighter together. “toji…”

his smile widened, soft and coaxing, like he could unravel you with just the sound of your name. “you just said they’re sore, right? i’ve never actually seen tits like that before. i mean, it’s kind of fascinating. educational, even. come on. just a peek.”

you should have said no. you should’ve told him to leave.

but your heart was pounding. your chest was flushed. and your mouth wouldn’t move.

you stared down at your shirt, at the way it clung to your body. then you looked back at him.

he was waiting.

you reached up slowly, hesitant, fingers sliding under the collar, tugging it wide. you stopped halfway, hesitating.

his voice softened, low and warm. “just for a second, mama. promise.”

you exhaled shakily and pulled the fabric down, slipping the cup of your bra over one breast.

the air felt cold against your skin. your nipple was darker now, puffy, stiff with milk and sensitivity, the heavy swell of your breast dragging slightly under its own weight. your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

his expression shifted immediately. the smile faded. his gaze locked, dark and unblinking, and he stepped forward slowly, like something was pulling him. “fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself. “you weren’t kidding.”

you tried to laugh, but it came out breathless. “they’re ridiculous, right?”

he shook his head, eyes never leaving your chest. “no. they’re perfect. fuck, they’re…” he trailed off, jaw clenched. “they’re real.”

the silence stretched. you swallowed hard. “they’re heavy too. sometimes it just feels like my whole body’s dragging me down.”

his brows pulled together slightly. “can i… just feel it? not in a weird way. just i wanna know how heavy they really are.”

your breath caught in your throat. you looked at him, hesitated, heart thudding.

“just a little,” you whispered.

his palm was warm when it cupped you. fingers spread wide, curling under the fullness of your breast, cradling it gently like he was afraid to break it. his thumb brushed slowly across the curve, just under your nipple, and he groaned, the sound low and aching.

“jesus christ,” he muttered, breath hot against your cheek. “you’re so fucking soft. i didn’t think…” he squeezed gently, almost experimentally, testing the weight like he was learning you with every inch. “fuck. no one makes girls like you anymore.”

you exhaled, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

your fingers curled tighter in his shirt, cotton bunching in your fists, the fabric warm from the heat of his chest. you could feel his breath fanning across your face, slow and steady, the kind of calm that made your stomach twist because it didn’t match the way your heart was pounding. he hadn’t moved since he touched you. his palm still cupped around your swollen breast, thumb resting just under the curve, unmoving now, like he was afraid that if he shifted, the whole moment would collapse.

you were so close you could smell him, something clean under the musk, beer still lingering faint on his breath. his head dipped slightly, just a tilt, just enough that his nose brushed yours. your lips parted on instinct, a breath catching there, your pulse fluttering high in your throat like it wanted to climb out of your skin.

toji’s hand slid up from your chest, slow and deliberate, fingers grazing your collarbone as he cupped your jaw instead, thumb brushing soft across your cheek, not pushing. not pulling. just holding you there.

you could’ve pulled back.

you should’ve pulled back.

but you didn’t.

his lips met yours without warning just a breath between, just a shift, and then his mouth was on yours. warm. sure. devastating. there was no hesitation, no apology, no awkward stumble like you’d expected. he kissed you like he knew you already, like he had waited a long time to do this and wasn’t going to waste it now. his lips pressed firm, slow, coaxing yours open with just the barest pull, his thumb still stroking gently across your cheek like he was trying to memorize the way your skin felt while you unraveled for him.

your eyes fluttered shut. your grip in his shirt tightened. you made a small noise, soft, almost surprised at how much you felt it. like your chest cracked open and something raw was pouring out into his mouth. he didn’t push further. didn’t rush. his hand stayed on your cheek, steady and grounding, the kiss deepening only when you leaned into it, mouth parting wider for him, breath hitching when his tongue brushed yours.

you weren’t thinking anymore.

you weren’t anywhere except here, in the heat between his hands, in the silence between your gasps.

his lips were still on yours when his hand slipped around your waist, warm and steady, pulling you forward like it was the most natural thing in the world. he didn’t stop to ask, didn’t give you time to think just backed up a step, dragged the chair out from the counter, and eased down into it, tugging you into his lap like you belonged there.

you gasped softly when your thighs spread across his, your bare legs stretching over the denim of his jeans, his thick palm sliding low over your spine to steady you. your chest was pressed to his now, soft and full, one breast still pulled from your bra, skin flushed and exposed, your nipple grazed by the rough fabric of his shirt. your fingers curled into the collar instinctively, but he caught your wrist before you could cover yourself again.

“nah,” he whispered, eyes hooded, voice thick. “no hiding. not from me.”

you didn’t speak. couldn’t. your lips were still tingling, your thighs trembling slightly from where he held you firm. and then his hand slid back up, cupping your breast again, slower this time, more reverent, his thumb brushing the heavy swell with something close to awe. you felt your breath catch when he leaned in, dragging his lips over the curve, warm and soft, pressing gentle kisses along the top like it was something sacred.

“mama,” he murmured, his voice cracked, almost too soft to hear. “look at you.”

you blinked, your lashes damp, head tipping slightly as you looked down at him. he had his face buried against your chest now, kissing slowly, nuzzling the side, one arm wrapped low around your waist. the other hand slid to your belly, and you tensed, but he just rubbed it palming it gently, dragging his fingers over the curve, over the soft skin that stretched loose and warm beneath your shirt, down over the faint ridges of your stretch marks.

“so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, mouth trailing kisses lower. “this belly… carried your baby. stretched open for her. you did that, mama. you gave life.” he kissed the space just below your breast, tongue flicking out to taste the sweat there, breathing heavier now. “your skin’s so soft. so warm. made to be touched.”

your hand slipped into his hair almost without thinking. you sighed, long and low, your fingers curling gently at the nape of his neck, rubbing slow. he groaned into your chest at the touch, his mouth open now, dragging hot against the underside of your breast as he shifted, adjusting your weight in his lap, tugging your legs wider so he could keep you steady.

“baby,” he breathed, “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

he leaned in again, lips closing around your nipple, soft and aching and sore. you gasped when his mouth sucked gently, the pressure sending a shiver down your spine. your milk beaded at the tip almost immediately, and his tongue lapped it up without hesitation, the sound wet and low between your bodies.

you whimpered. not from pain. from the overwhelming warmth of it. the relief. the worship.

toji moaned low in his chest, sucking deeper now, hand still rubbing your stomach, the other slipping under your thigh to grip it tighter, to rock you slightly in his lap as he nursed.

“so sweet,” he muttered between sucks. “so fuckin’ sweet, mama. like you were made for this.”

you giggled quietly, the sound light and breathless, still rubbing his hair, thumb brushing over the shell of his ear. “feels nice,” you whispered, eyes fluttering. “you’re helping.”

“mm,” he hummed against your breast, sucking a little harder now. “told you i would. i’ll help you anytime, baby. anything for my girl.”

he didn’t stop. he nursed slow and deep, tongue flicking over your nipple between sucks, palm splayed hot across your soft belly, fingers tracing the lines the baby left behind. your milk spilled into his mouth and he swallowed it down like it was the only thing he ever wanted, eyes fluttered shut, his breathing growing heavier.

your hips were grinding slightly now, unintentionally, the rhythm lazy, soft, seeking comfort in the pressure of his thigh beneath you. you felt safe like this, warm, loved, full, your head tilted back slightly as your fingers stroked through his hair, giggling softly when he murmured another praise against your chest.

“mama,” he said again, lips glossy with milk, “so fuckin’ perfect.”

the phone rang.

the shrill sound cut through the warmth like ice water down your spine.

you froze.

his mouth paused against your skin, your nipple still swollen and wet against his lips.

you looked down.

the name flashing across the counter glowed sharp and cruel.

michael.

your husband.

toji didn’t move.

your breath caught in your throat.

the guilt hit like a fist.

and you were still in his lap, bare, leaking, adored.

and now, completely ruined.

this one is really close to my heart. i’ve been thinking a lot.

i hope it wrecked you in the best way. thank you for reading, and if you felt something anything i’d love to hear it.💌

onlypinkslut

[fatherbrat]

TELL ME AGAIN, R. SUNA

sum. sequel to one last time. you visit suna after listening to the voicenote he sent you, just to talk, and end up doing a little more than that.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. cheating/infidelity, suna really got on my nerves while i was writing this and he'll probably get on yours too, arguing, choking (m. receiving), edging, cunnilingus, a little manhandling kinda, missionary, multiple instances of "i miss/ed you"

wc. 2k

Suna tries his best to keep the shit-eating grin off his face when you text him to ask if he’s home. 

He knew that voice message would get you. There was a tiny voice in his head that told him it would be a monumental embarrassment if you didn’t, but it was drowned out by all the other voices in his head telling him to send, send, send, send.

His stomach turns with anticipation. He doesn’t even answer your question, just orders an Uber and sends you the car make and model and how long it will take to get to your apartment. 6 minutes. And then 12 minutes from yours to his. 

He fishes out the fancy santal candle he knows you like from beneath the bathroom sink and lights it in his bedroom. Then he brushes his teeth and puts some music on and waits.

He jumps when the doorbell rings.

There’s a moment of silence when he opens the door, the two of you just looking at each other. It hits Suna that this is the first time he’s seen you in person in months. He used to see you everyday. There's a part of his chest that seems to ache at the realization. He ignores it.

“Hi,” you breathe.

He blinks once. Twice. “Hey.” He opens the door a little wider and shifts to the side so you can come in.

You take one step closer and then stop, eyeing him with unjust suspicion. “I didn’t come over here to fuck you.”

Suna takes one look at your outfit—shorts that are definitely too short to be comfortable in this chilly fall weather and a sweatshirt he’s pretty sure is his—and knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out, just grins and shrugs and ushers you inside anyway. 

You lean against the kitchen counter to survey the living room, pleased to see that it looks exactly the same as the last time you were here. Suna’s still standing by the door when you look at him again, arms crossed.

“So why’d you come over?” he asks.

It’s your turn to shrug. “You said you missed me.”

“Did I?”

You give him a sideways look. “You did.” You drag out the two words, nodding slowly and widening your eyes as if you’re speaking to a child.

Suna tilts his head to the side, smiling a little. “What else did I say?”

Oh lord. You should’ve known he’d be annoying about it. You shift your gaze up to the ceiling, pretending to struggle to remember even though you listened to his message several times, including once on the car ride over. 

“You said you weren’t happy for me…which is pretty fucked up.”

Suna just rolls his eyes. “What else?”

Eyes on the ceiling again. “You said you liked my Halloween costume. And that if I had sex with you it wouldn’t count as cheating because I haven’t been with him that long.” You put air quotes around his claim, sliding your eyes back down to meet his.

He’s standing closer to you now than he was a minute ago, looking like he’s holding back a laugh. “Now that part’s fucked up. Where is the boyfriend, by the way?”

You make a face and look at the time on the microwave. “Probably home. Probably asleep.”

“Yeah? How’s he doing?” He closes what’s left of the gap between you and tugs on the drawstring of your (his) sweatshirt to even out both ends.

“Fine…” you whisper, breath hitching when his hand brushes your ear on the way to your hoodie.

He hums after fixing the string and walks towards his bedroom, tapping your bare thigh as he passes you as a silent cue to follow.

You realize that he doesn’t believe your intentions for coming over are pure, which is true, but you don’t like that he didn’t even pretend to believe you. 

You follow his lead anyway, resting your head against the doorframe and watching him fish his phone out of his pocket and dump it on his desk. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks over at you with his eyebrows raised.

“I told you I just came over here to talk,” you snap.

Suna’s response is automatic. “No, you said you didn’t come over here to fuck.”

“Rin.”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.” He leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees and his hands beneath his chin. “Alright. Talk.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have come.” You twist your foot to turn around and immediately hear the bed creak with relief. Suna wraps his hand around your wrist before you can fully turn your back.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he says. “Stay. Please?”

He sounds like he’s begging. He looks like he’s begging, with his slumped shoulders and pleading eyes and desperation written all over his pretty face. 

It’s not enough. 

“My boyfriend doesn’t taunt me like this, you know,” you tell him, indignant.

Suna’s grip on your arms loosens as his face falls a bit.

You continue. “He’s actually nice to me. And he’s romantic. Treats me like royalty.”

You watch Suna’s jaw tick. His hand returns to his side. “He’s boring.”

“He’s steady.”

Suna’s tone grows terse. “Dull. Stale. Bland. Vanilla.”

“Stable and secure and safe.”

Suna snorts. “Safe,” he repeats, sarcastic. “I seriously don’t get how you can date him.” 

“Because he’s my boyfriend who I love and not just some guy I used to fuck when I was lonely.”

It’s a low blow. You and Suna were friends long before the benefits came along. Good friends. Close friends.

If he’s offended he doesn’t show it, just latches on to the first part of your sentence. “You don’t love him.”

He’s right. “You’re wrong.”

“Really? Why are you here then?” He narrows his eyes. “And don’t say it’s because I said I missed you.”

You’re not sure when you started taking steps forward, or when Suna started moving backwards, but his calves hit the edge of the bed and suddenly he’s sitting again, looking up at you with that infuriating self-righteousness that makes your eye twitch.

And then your hand is squeezing his throat and your lips are on his and you’re straddling him and moaning into his mouth.

You feel him start to smile against you before he pulls away. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Don’t fucking say anything,” you tell him, before tugging his face towards you neck. 

You can tell Suna’s still smiling, but he obeys, sucking the tender spot right above your collarbone without another word. His hands find the bottom of your sweatshirt and he pulls it up. 

His lips leave your skin and your hand leaves his neck so you can take your arms out of the sleeves and he can yank it over your head and drop it on the floor. Then he rests his hands on your hips and just looks at you. 

Goosebumps dance across your shoulders and arms. Suna wants to comment on how you're not wearing a bra but he doesn’t, just continues to stare. 

“What?” you ask.

He takes in the sight of you on top of him, the rise and fall of your chest—quicker than normal, a side effect of him riling you up. He revels in the weight of you on his legs and tries to recall the last time you had him beneath you like this. Your birthday? His birthday? Or maybe it was that time he tried to cheer you up after you got laid off. Either way, it’s been a long time and he hates to think about how you’ve probably been doing this with your boyfriend instead of him.

He can’t help himself. “You straddle the boyfriend like this?”

You huff and press your palm to his chest, shoving him onto his back. Your face hovers over his. “What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Suna studies your face and puts his hands around your waist and beams. It’s the only signal you get before he flips you, putting your head on a pillow and taking his own shirt off before he drops it on the ground somewhere near your hoodie.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, glancing at the hard outline growing in his sweats as you trail your fingertips up his thigh. He leans into you and rests his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you,” he says softly. 

Your heart beats at a concerning speed. “I know.”

He gets up from the bed and snaps the waistband of your shorts before telling you to take them off and removing the rest of his own clothes. When he crouches over you again, you place the sole of your foot flat against him and tut. 

“You also said you’d do that thing I like with your tongue.”

Again, Suna chooses not to comment. He wonders how many times you listened to the message, because it’s sounding like more than once, more than a couple. He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed, forcing a giggle out of your throat before he plants his head between your legs. 

He circles your clit, avoiding making contact with it directly and making teasing strokes with his fingers until you’re panting and quivering and making shaky demands for him to let you come on his tongue. When he does, you scream his name. 

“Music to my fucking ears,” he says under his breath, licking your slick off his lips. “You scream this loud for him too?”

You can't believe you forgot how aggravating he is. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He looks so smug. You start to think that the desperation from before was too short-lived, until he’s inside you and you’re filled with him and that familiar need that makes you wrap your legs around him and claw at his back.

All you can think about is how you miss him and you missed this, and you’re telling him to fuck you harder, and then his mouth is right below your ear and his hair is tickling your cheek and a stream of yes’s and Rin’s are tumbling out of your mouth like dominoes and youre trying to pull him impossibly closer and youre so surrounded by him that its dizzying and youre whispering i miss you in his ear and hoping it doesnt sound like i love you and hes saying i miss you too and youre wondering if he really means i love you too and then youre biting into his shoulder and—  

You lose count of how many times you come. Both of you do. The two of you are coated in sweat, laying on damp sheets in a room that now smells like sex and sandalwood. Neither of you speak, busy catching your breath and being lost in thought. You don’t want to say anything, afraid you’ll break the spell.

You didn’t have to worry about that, though, because you hear your phone ping loudly and realize it’s on the floor, still tucked away in the front pocket of your sweatshirt. Suna turns his head towards you.

“You should break up with him.”

You raise an eyebrow at the seriousness in his voice and sigh. “I know.”

“Today.”

A pause. “Okay.”

There’s another moment where none of you speak. And then–

“You should date me instead.”

You turn to face him and the earnestness in his expression catches you so off guard you have to look away again. It’s not that you never expected him to bring it up, you just hadn't expected him to sound so sincere when he did.

You had toyed with the idea before, a handful of times even, but everything between you two was so easy—why would you mess it up with a what are we? conversation? Although, you suppose you messed it up anyway by getting a boyfriend and ditching Suna without warning.

It takes you a long time to respond, long enough that Suna starts to game plan an exit strategy, but then you meet his gaze again.

“Okay.”

[sangunary]

- Better man.

BatBoys x Reader.

SYPNOSIS: Catching your boyfriend broke your heart, turns out he wasn't the only option in the family.

WARNING: Cheating, angst - happy, shit post.

Character: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd.

- Jason Todd.

It's been day's almost a week and the only thing you have been doing is crying nonstop, every second, every minute nonstop. Your silk pillow was now drench in your salty tears and snot, only your bed was a mess you didn't have the muscle to throw a tantrums it was as your whole muscle were cut into pieces leaving you to merged with your bed.

Your heart was slowly tearing apart into pieces, your body completely gave up on supporting it's need. Ignoring the painful ache of your stomach as you kept of weeping into your pillow, trying to replicate the feeling you felt when he held you dearly in his arms.

Your eyelids were burning hot from all the tears you have let out and your hair were forming a messy nest. Drowing yourself in sorrow and water forgetting about eating anything healthy. For a week you haven't eaten anything, maybe it was because you just wanted to hurt yourself that way to punish yourself for your action.

Dick was Special to you, he was your first in everything. He was charming and flirty but you only assume those traits were just some persona that will leave with times. How wrong you were.

He would hold you under the blanket and whisper nothing but sweet into your ears and you even though of marrying him. You've met Bruce and his while siblings, you two were planning on building a family of your own.

The ring on your bedside table was doing it's best to bring the tear out of you, he purpose two week ago. The happiest day of your life happened two week ago and on monday you saw him in your shared bed with some girls.

You dropped the cake on the floor and silent followed, nobody move it was an awkward stare down. Your fiance arm's were wrapped around her like he was protecting her from you. The same way he used to comfort you during all those traumatic experience.

That day was a nightmare, he didn't try or even tried to salvage what was left. You wanted to beg, to beg for him to apologise... You just wanted the boy you fell inlove with back, the same one who would hold you dearly in his arm's enveloping you in his warmth, shushing the monsters away. That day the boy you loved died.

You started into his eyes before you left your shared apartment, trying your best to cover the silent cry for help. It was stupid of you to want him back after everything but he was your world. It was hard to believe that everything wad fake.

"Say something... please"

You silently plead for him, you just wanted him to say he was sorry and how he would change, be a better man for you and forget this all ... But that was a fairytale wasn't it?

"Do you need any money for your new apartment?"

Your heart sting so much. He was being kind, but kindness was not what you needed you need him not his kindness. You took a big air and left, a feeling of sorrow hanging onto your shoulder ever since.

Just before you could continue crying again a knock on your door interrupted you.

"Dollface are you still crying...? Im coming in"

Before you could argue Jason opened the door of your room the shining ray of the sun hitting you hard, you couldn't face anybody in that situation especially not the brother of your ex.

You just cover yourself in your blanket, your eyes were extremely puffy and red, your nose red and runny, hair is just like a bird nest just alot more unorganised and the ring on the table still mocking you.

His presence was heavy and out of place inside your dingy room, he sat down on your bed with a thump his eyes staring into yours, unlike Grayson his eyes felt like a void ready to suck your soul in... What a way to realise you haven't gotten over your ex-fiance.

"I warned you didn't I? That idiot only destroy heart while protecting his"

Well jason was mad at you and mostly Dick. He warned you about him on how Dick have a problem with settling, you've taken his warning as a light joke. Because during those days Grayson was your sun and you were just some star it seem now.

"Look at you crying... You're a mess. Over him of all people I've known..."

He seem to have noticed the ring on the table and without hesitation he knock it into the trash bin. You watched in horror as your precious ring fell and land amongst the trash.

"He-"

"It's just some stone... It doesn't hold a value as long as it was given without love. You will forget and get past him whether you liked it or not"

Sometimes you forgot how Jason talked just like your mother would, maybe it was because he was spending too much time with her.

Maybe he was right... It's just some stone given to you. What important was the man infront of you, even when you look just like the definition of garbage he wa willing to look at you and help you heal. Unlike when you were with him, living in constant fear that he might left you if you slip up in any way or form.

"Why are you helping me?"

"...Your mother asked me to"

His answer wasn't the most pleasant one... But he was still the one picking you up an building you anew. Maybe just maybe he was the right one? He was indeed the one who started at you with admiration even at your smallest achievement, the one who wouldn't hold you down for wanting something... It was wrong to love him but it could be cancelled out with what your ex-fiance could done.

Christmas dinner would be awkward but who cares?

"Now you're smiling? You're a real emotional rollercoaster no wonder why our boy wonder couldn't handle you"

"Maybe you could?"

"Anything for you doll"

- Dick Grayson.

You've become too tired to even continue your sobbing, it's been almost a week but you were not done blaming yourself and putting his need first as usual. You've known him when he was just a carefree Robin you were his first girlfriend afterall. Helped him countless of timea, supported his decision even tho they weren't the brightest and even talk shit about batman with him.

Yet if you were to be asked how you were as a girlfriend only one word count sum it up... terrible. Maybe it was because you could give him space after his resurrection, couldn't handle his new self... Couldn't comfort him better. He forgive him when he shot you but he couldn't bring himself to forgive you when you sided with batman after his death.

You thought you were Special to him, special enough to stop him from killing anyone but turns out you were special enough that the first person he tried to kill was indeed you.

The bullet wound was still visible, you tolerated his Sudden burst of anger... Everything about him scared terrible yet you couldn't bring yourself to leave him.

Every injury he would kiss them away vowing to protect you even from himself, even when he shot you he regretted it you swore. His words were enough to trap you, he was your boy and you would rather kill everybody else than him.

It was after another stupid argument you ran his older brother Grayson, he took you under his wing whenever you and Jason have problem. Unlike him he was gently with you treating your every wound with care and unspoken love... It was different from Jason who was rought but loving in his way.

The change of space was addictive and sometimes you would catch yourself willingly run in his arm's... Another reason why you are terrible and unfit for Jason, Grayson noticing your horrible behaviour of putting yourself down decided to educate you in his ways. A movie, it was supposed to be a harmless bounding time with your supposed to be in-law.

But that night only changed you for worst. Torn between him and Jason one bringing heaven to your gate and one taking heaven for you.

When you came back home to ask for forgiveness and confess your disgusting feelings only for you to stand infront of another girl. Your towel wrap around her curvy figure and she reek of your own expensive products, she seem unbothered and just blanky staring down at you.

That moment was hell itself, you felt as if your body was shrinking down as gloomy air surrounded you invading your lungs... You felt as if you were drowning from the tension, your heart torn apart by your boyfriend delicate hands.

From the coner of your eyes you saw him standing still, he knew he was caught. He asked for the girl to step aside and talk to you, your tears already spilling pathetically.

You enter your own home with a heavy weight of desperation clutching onto your aching heart, your picture were no where to he seen and the picture of you and him was facing down... You understood that she probably knew about you but you didn't dare to utter any word.

Your feelings were caught in your mouth and opening it would only flood the room with your unwanted feelings.

"You just weren't the same"

He told you truthfully, you just weren't how he remembered. He told you how the girl was just like how he remembered you back than... You didn't treat him kindly because you love him it was because you were scared.

You left the alone, hoping to catch a bus to somewhere else. Your mind was just too clouded. That's when you saw him. Grayson.

His arm's outstretch as you walk into his arms without hesitation. He would run his finger through your hair and wipe your tears listening to you spilling your feelings onto him.

You felt terrible, to burry him with your untasteful love life with his younger brother felt like the biggest sin. But he was willingly listening to you rambling and that was enough for you...

"It's alright... let it out little bird. I'll always listen"

You couldn't tell if you were that desperate for even a drop of love or was it natural instinct, you couldn't help but lean closer absorbing his smell. Was it because Jason word sting so hard you forgot about your dignity but right now all that matter was that... Grayson cared.

That was enough.

"He doesn't understand what he lost... Someone like you deserve to be cherished... preferably by me"

You couldn't distinguish if he was serious or joking to make you feel better. That doesn't matter because you will cling onto any form of love as long as you are important to another.

[vilintciay]

" Ohh mmfp- FUCK..! Waka- TOSHI!.. Ahgg- God-."

Your eyes rolled back to the back of your skull, drool seeping out from the corner of your mouth. Above you was Ushijima Wakatoshi, ruthlessly pounding into you from behind, keeping both your arms pinned behind your back with a grip of a single hand as he pressed you further and further into the mattress from how hard he was fucking you stupid.

Your head laid turned to the side, cheek pressed up on cushion below as you gazed up at him with your ass in the air, stood and displayed all for him to bury his thick cock balls deep inside your tight, sloppy wet cunt.

"Ahhg- mnpff- mm- yeah! Ohh fuuckk! Yes, yes, right there!"

You mewled and cried out with pleasure, moaning and whining under him while his expression stood the same. A stoic and blank face with dark and lust filled eyes taking up each bounce and jiggle of your tits, ass, and thighs whenever he'd pull out his thick cock out of your tight cunt, plunging back in hard and rough. Grunting only occasionally.

You were out of it. So fucking out of it that you didn't even notice the sound of your apartment's door opening, light shuffling coming from the living room as someone called out a greeting. But it didn't reach you. Too fucked up and cock drunk that you could only focus on the way his hand would lift in the air to land a harsh and almost skin-tearing smack on your ass, squealing with delight as pain mixed with pleasure, stomach twisting tighter and tighter.

Your orgasm was building up fast, so fast you could barely catch up with your own breathing, slowly coming undone beneath him as you writhe, screaming out his name so loud you weren't surprised if you'd get at least 10 noise complaints from your neighbors. Oh wait.. that's right. This wasn't your house.

With a full body shudder, you felt the knot in your stomach completely burst, squeezing down hard on his pulsing cock as you squirted all over him and the bed below before slumping over and panting. What was I thinking of again?

Oh right, this wasn't my house. This... Wasn't my house?

... Oh. Right. It was his house. But only I didn't live here anymore.

It was only then you'd snap out of your daze, the door to the bedroom opening, your head snapping to look over at the door way. There stood a familiar woman, looking dumbfounded.

"Babe..?"

You were now his ex-girlfriend after all.