satorusprites

[satorusprites]

Sukuna x Blind!Reader — How he protects you (Side drabble)

masterlist

Whenever Sukuna left your little home, he always took his sweet time.

He would linger near your house, waiting and watching. No—it wasn't because he deemed you his prey.

It was because he was making sure you were going to be fine.

He would walk around the area, killing even the smallest curses that were near your home, pouring his curse energy into the place so that sorcerers and curses alike wouldn't dare step into this area.

But then... There were humans.

The King of Curses paused when he heard them. Two men nearby, watching you from the bushes.

"Ah, there she is. There's the blind lady I told you about."

"Heh, look at her. She's so defenseless. Let's have a little fun with her first then take all her stuff—"

The man didn't even have time to finish when he was split in half from the torso. The other man watched in horror, lips trembling in fear. He opened his mouth to scream only for his face to be covered by a large hand that crushed his skull with ease.

Sukuna looked down at his bloody hand and frowned at the mess. Ugh, he should've just used dismantle on him too.

"W... Why..."

The King of Curses raised his eyebrow at the voice and looked down to see the man cut in half, hanging onto the last thread of life and looking at him with wide eyes full of confusion and horror.

Sukuna merely smirked and leaned down to the dying man.

"Because you wanted to touch what was mine."

The man's lips twitched. He tried to say something but no voice came. He finally succumbed to his injuries. Sukuna suspected he had probably been trying to curse his existence with his last breath.

Nothing new.

He straightened himself and looked over to see you in your home. He watched you sitting on the veranda, brushing your hair and wearing what he believed to be the robes you slept in. A content look and a soft smile on your face.

What were you thinking about that made you smile so sweetly? A part of him hoped it was the kiss you two shared earlier.

Eventually you got up and went inside, closing the shoji door behind you. He didn't leave until the candlelight slowly faded from inside your home.

--

Taglist: @winkous-av @realalpacorn @elegantmakercoffee @cherryheairt @after-laughter-come-tears @emoedgylord @padparadschq @just-lilita @frogtits1 @ilovesmolkittycats @whatitdodobby @fairygardenprincesss @srtakibutsuji @aristokatastrophy @updated-version @queenmimis

[satorusprites]

[satorusprites]

i actually dont rlly like this one buuut take it anyway

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i wanted to play around with a different colouring style, but i didnt feel like drawing something new so i just recoloured this sketch again (with a few other minor changes)

[satorusprites]

you and malaysia

All he wanted was one more moment. One more minute. He could feel the soft sand beneath his feet, the warm water lapping at his ankles. He didn’t even care that the tan slacks he wore got wet, even though he had rolled them up to his shins. He could see you clearly, the images in his mind mixing with his current reality. His past, his present, his afterlife– all coming together to form one moment in his mind. He could see Yu. He could see Yuji. He could see you. He always took the responsibility, a heavy weight on his broad shoulders. That time when Yu had nearly gotten hurt on a mission, he took it personally. When he first met Yuji, he got hurt fighting curses. That time you scraped your knee after you tripped on your first date. Everything, all of it, he took it all. Now though, as time began to slow, he saw the people who mattered, who he cared about and he felt selfish enough to ask for one more moment. Just one, to see you smile, to say all the things he didn’t get to say. He wondered how the wind would pass through your hair, how the sun would hit your skin. You two never did ever make it to the beach, did you? He wished he had more moments with you, more time to give you everything you deserved. He wished you could’ve met Yu. God, he knew you two would’ve gotten along. He wished he told you about him because now….now Yu’s story lies with him and this is where it ends. He knows what he has to do, what he’s always done. Be brave, be strong, be the responsible adult that he and Yu didn’t have as teenagers. He can see the pain on Yuji’s face, the panic. He knows the face you’ll make when they tell you he’s gone. You’ll still, your shoulders will go taught, breathing will stop. It’ll feel like your heart is falling or like it’s being ripped from your chest. All air, gone. Just like his. He doesn’t want to think about that though. Instead, he pictures the three he loved most. Yu, Yuji, and you. Soft eyes, warm smiles, giving hearts. All converge to give him the peace he needs in his final moments. He has to be strong, one last time. He can feel the sun shining down on him and he knows one day, you’ll meet him there. “Itadori-kun,” he says, a soft smile on his face. “I’ll leave the rest to you.”

[satorusprites]

the four phases of the morning — fushiguro toji.

every morning starts out the same, simple way in the fushiguro household, like it always does. fushiguro toji wakes up first, as early as he possibly could. that was his common start as a househusband.

but today, he wakes up earlier than usual. the sun’s barely peeking through the blinds. you’re still asleep, wrapped in the blankets like the softest, warmest secret he ever got to keep.

he hums to himself. its still way to early. and even then, you were probably exhausted from handling a bunch of paperwork at the prosecutor's office from your last case.

so, toji decides he'll let you sleep in a little bit today. you work too hard. and he wants nothing but the best for you. to take care of you in every which way.

he leans in and kisses your temple, which earned a smile from your sleeping features. which made toji smile just as much too. life felt good already.

toji yawns as he stretches his body, thinking about what to make for you for breakfast. there's various options for the day. but knowing you like soup, he should probably heat up the miso soup from the other night. and maybe make rice balls.

the idleness in the endless thought of you suddenly ended when he heard the familiar cooing sound from the baby monitor. he turned to the monitor and his blue-green eyes squints.

eight month old fushiguro megumi is now fully wide awake and is blank faced as he absentmindedly chewed on the ear of a stuffed raccoon like it personally offended him and he needs payback.

toji purses his lips before walking off and going towards megumi's bedroom. when he opens the door, he immediately looks at his son like he's about to lecture him. megumi merely looks up at his father.

“ever since you got to crawling, you became such a brat, you know that, kiddo?" toji shook his head. "mr. bigshot, you’re supposed to go and sleep in, especially when you watched too much sesame street last night.”

megumi blows a raspberry in response. “…..yeah, alright."

well, the morning routine begins now.

fushiguro toji took a deep breath.

its time to go and lock in.

phase one: toddler containment.

first time father fushiguro toji picks him up under the arms like he’s defusing a bomb. baby megumi immediately latches onto him like a koala, drooling slightly on his shirt.

“gross, megs.” toji mutters under his breath. megumi looked up to him with those wide tarsir-like eyes. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

fushiguro megumi merely responds by bonking his forehead lightly into toji’s jaw, like a feral show of love. toji flinches but sighs fondly.

well, thats his son alright.

phase two: operation breakfast.

toji walked towards your bedroom, holding megumi tightly. he tells megumi to be quiet as he checks if you were still asleep.

oh, good. you’re still asleep. toji looks at his son and nods. the two of them descend downstairs together.

fushiguro toji, in a dutiful, typical burst of domestic initiative, decides what he's gonna cook for you.

so toji puts megumi in his baby bouncer carefully. young megumi was intrigued by the colors and the little trinklets littered on the bouncer. he pays no more mind to his father. okay, that's good.

toji moves towards the kitchen and starts taking out the things he plans to use for today's spread. though, this also reminds him that he also needs to buy more groceries later with megumi.

toji has to be honest but he doesn't like half assing what the family eats for everyday, especially what you eat. it has to be good. otherwise, it would be hard for you to have a healthy life and a good burst of energy when you're at work.

so toji takes this seriously. as much any of the other things he does as your househusband. so he doesn't really subscribe to the “toast and maybe an egg” kind of breakfast.

instead, toji puts everything out there. he’s going full husband of the year. runny poached eggs, which you like. he always makes his own bacon. he also has to make sure the pancakes are always soft, and not to sweet.

he did see a bunch of the strawberries and apples he got a while back from the sale at the supermarket. so, he'll slice them for you and megumi to eat.

well, least if he's lucky enough to do that. he can only pray that megumi doesn’t start screaming and crying just yet. and he hopes that today that does happen.

as toji hums softly, plating the first batch of pancakes in a stack of three each, he realizes he should also prepare megumi's milk and warm it up. that's just in case his son doesn't want the solid food.

he doesn't get to do that.

instead, he needs to stop.

suddenly, megumi starts screaming.

but not because he’s hungry, because the raccoon doll by the side of his bouncer fell off while he was giggling and jumping. and so, cue toddler apocalypse.

“we talked about this, kiddo.” toji groans, flipping a pancake one-handed while awkwardly bouncing megumi on his hip with the other. “your war cries don’t work on inanimate objects.”

megumi sobs louder. toji tosses the raccoon back like he’s making a hostage trade. “there. take it. don’t say your old man never did anything for you.”

fushiguro megumi quiets immediately. raccoon retrieved. dignity not so much. fushiguro toji sighs, hoping that this kept the peace at the very least.

but once more, megumi lost the raccoon doll.

this time he accidentally throws it.

fushiguro toji knows that hes fighting a losing war.

he sighs, as once more, fushiguro megumi starts crying.

phase three: kitchen mayhem.

toji’s shirt is now suspiciously stained with pancake batter, a smear of banana, and what he hopes is applesauce.

he’s still holding megumi, who’s humming (read: shrieking) while gnawing on his toy like he’s summoning a cursed spirit.

his son has had enough of the baby bouncer and exclusively, needs to be in his arms. asap. or he'll lose his senses and cry uncontrollably.

toji can only go on and move on as he is trying to flip the last pancake for the day. he’s sweating like he’s back in a mission gone wrong.

“just one more, okay?” he mutters, like he was giving himself a pep talk. “one more. we got this, toji.”

he finally lay the final pancake on the final plate and stacked it perfectly. three perfectly golden pancakes, crispy bacon on the side, and eggs that almost didn’t burn. though, of course, megumi's plate is the smallest.

toji then throws on a couple strawberries to make it look fancy, on the side. and the apples on a separate bowl. toji then carefully tosses a flower from the backyard into a cup because why the hell not.

he sets the tray gently on the table. he takes a moment to exhale. but a break and relief doesn't really last long as megumi immediately tries to grab a fistful of pancake. toji softly swats his tiny hand away. he softly glares at his baby boy.

“your breakfast is on the tinier plate, you know that. well that and whatever falls on the floor." he points to megumi's baby plate and then to your plate. "that one is for megumi. this is for your mom. don't touch your mom's food, okay? she works too hard for her not to be able to eat well. we gotta take care of her properly."

megumi didn't seem to register it completely as he looked at his eyes with those wide blue-green eyes he shares with his father.

toji thinks there is no thought behind those eyes. but at the very least, he seems to have understood. he doesn't touch your good again. toji is relieved at that.

"okay, now i'll feed you." he says to megumi as he puts him in a baby high chair. "after that, let's go wake your mom up."

phase four: waking mom up.

toji changes megumi's clothes after he ate. he was still such a messy eater. but toji doesn't mind. his son is still a baby. and at the very least, he knows how to hold a spoon.

after megumi ate and he quickly ate his own food, he cleared out the kitchen. he'll change clothes later. he sighed, feeling everything sticking to his clothes. all he can be thankful for was that megumi didn't puke on him today. well, at least not a lot.

toji made a mental note to wash all the clothes today before all the stuff sticks to it too much. it would be hard to remove if he doesn't do it fast.

your husband quickly tiptoes into the bedroom, with megumi tucked under one arm, tray balanced in the other. toji carefully places the tray in front of you.

“hey, baby. wake up.” he says softly, nudging you awake with his now free palm. you groan softly as you thrash to the side carefully. he smiles, finding it cute. “sleeping beauty. rise and shine.”

you slowly straighten yourself again before softly blink blearily. then you slowly sit up to see your husband standing there, shirt stained, hair a mess, holding your son like a sack of potatoes and looking so damn proud of himself.

“made you a good spread for breakfast today." he says gruffly. “also don't laugh about me right now. i multi-tasked better today.”

you take one look at the mess on his shirt, the smear of banana on his cheek, the tray with the cute little flower and start laughing fondly at your husband's situation anyway.

he grumbles, but there’s a smirk tugging at his mouth. he sets the tray down, kisses your cheek, then deposits megumi in your lap.

“your boys have done well today, no?” he says, stretching his back with a pop, “we have officially survived half the morning.”

you kiss him back, smiling. “you’re amazing, baby.”

he grunts, sitting at the edge of the bed. “i’d like that on a t-shirt.”

"maybe for father's day." you hummed, grinning as he rolls his eyes playfully.

megumi, happily in his new pajamas with bed hair pointing in five directions, takes a strawberry from your plate and slaps it directly onto toji’s knee like it’s a sticker.

“…and i’d like a nap later.” he announces, dead serious, before turning and walking off like he just finished important diplomatic business.

you laugh again at his words, all too sharp and sudden. the vibration quickly rising from your chest and out your throat.

god, you love these two. mornings like this feel like they’re framed in sunlight, like the world is briefly soft and manageable. life is a paradise like this.

toji doesn’t say anything, though. just grunts at that and picks the strawberry off his knee like it’s nothing.

but when you take a bite of the pancake he made which were just rich and fluffy and golden, probably slightly overmixed, he waits for your reaction. soon enough, you let out a moan like it’s a five-star brunch.

toji freezes. you don’t notice it at first, because you’re too busy chewing happily and humming in satisfaction of the pancake.

“this is so good. like, criminally good, baby. you sure you didn’t steal these skills off some dead chef?”

toji shrugs, but the corner of his mouth twitches. he definitely adds it to his win column. but like hell he’s saying it out loud, though. that would ruin his whole thing.

he just goes back to his coffee, which sat by your own and tried acting casual, like his day hasn’t just been made by one little sound you made.

outside, birds chirp. the plate is still warm. megumi is back under a blanket on the bed like a burrito after he signaled that he was sleepy.

you lean over to your husband and swiped a dollop of whipped cream with your finger, and smear it onto toji’s cheek without warning.

“i love you.” you say, so fondly. "very much, muscle man."

he stares at you, surprised but only for a second. then he leans in, grabs your chin, and kisses you slow, like he’s got all the time in the world. you make a sound before melting into his kiss and deepening it.

“told you you’d say it first, baby." he mutters against your mouth.

you roll your eyes. “smug bastard.”

he just grins wider.

whipped cream and all.

four phases of the morning is good.

his life is just too good.

[satorusprites]

SUKUNA RYOMEN: “THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD WORTH KNEELING FOR.”

sukuna loves to see you cry—but he doesn’t like it when you turn away from him. (short 1.6k fic heavily inspired by a dream i had)

cw. female reader, true form sukuna, reader is sukuna’s wife, mean sukuna (he gets progressively softer), no beta we die as always

Sukuna knows he’s done something wrong when you refuse to meet his eye at the hallways. No greetings, no nothing. But you don’t voice it out loud, so he has no sure way of knowing.

He tests that theory and disappears for three straight days. When he returns, the estate is as still as a tranquil lake. He almost misses having random objects thrown at him; something you usually do when he leaves the estate without prior notice.

At dinner, your seat is empty. When he turns to Uraume, they just give him a solemn shake of the head. No explanations—like they knew something he didn’t.

When he walks the corridors, an uncomfortable silence stretches ahead—unpleasant, unfamiliar. You didn’t even bother to come out of your quarters.

This foolishness ends today.

Sukuna is fuming. He’s sent Uraume to relay the message that he’s looking for you but you never showed up. He has no time for your bullshit; if you won’t go to him obediently, he’ll come to you instead.

He walked to your quarters—only to find the door locked.

So he breaks it down.

“Wife.”

Sukuna is now standing in front of you, his full height casting a shadow over your sitting figure. You didn’t look up.

He can feel his patience thinning. “Woman.”

Even then, you ignore him completely, finding it more entertaining to play a game of shogi against yourself.

He reaches out a hand to your face but you smack it away swiftly.

Sukuna grunts in displeasure at your rejection. You may be his lover, but Sukuna Ryōmen doesn’t take kindly to disobedience. He moves forward, causing you to back away until you hit the wall.

You gasp when he slams his arms on the sides of your head, his other two arms clutching your wrist.

“Let go!”

But Sukuna merely tightens his grip. “Do you think you can avoid me forever?”

“Why do you care?”

Sukuna reels back, feeling the last threads of his patience snapping—almost. “What is with this attitude? If you have something to say to me, say it.”

“Last month,” you finally look at his crimson eyes, “I waited for you all night. You never came. I waited all night, Sukuna!”

He stares at you. What is this joke? He searches his memories, finally registering the events you’re talking about. He did fail to show up one night, and you’ve been frosty to him ever since.

“All this... over me skipping dinner?”

Stilling, you meet his incredulous gaze and glare at him. “It was our anniversary, bastard.”

Sukuna sighs, the puzzle pieces finally clicking together. He doesn’t know why you love to place such a huge significance over some dates — anniversaries, birthdays, what other godforsaken days, — when no matter the occasion, the ferocity of his love remains unchanged.

“I was preoccupied.”

“With Uraume?”

The sentence came out more accusatory than you planned. It causes your husband to raise an eyebrow, loosening his hold on you. Taking that chance, you immediately break free, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Hoo~,” Sukuna shifts, his lips stretching into a mean grin, “do I hear jealousy?”

“Fuck you.”

He grips your chin, forcing it upwards. “I will not have my wife insult me continuously. Let’s put that mouth into good use, hmm?” he leans down, his gaze fixed on your lips—

But you turn away, eyebrows knitted in defiance.

Sukuna feels his annoyance start to prick. “You refuse to kiss me now?”

No matter how hard you try to hide it, he can see it clearly—the slight shake in your shoulders, the wetness in the corner of your eyes, the faint pink on your nose.

You’re holding yourself back from crying.

His eyes narrow, “If you’re not going to even look at me, perhaps I should find Uraume instead.”

He doesn’t mean it, of course. The very notion that you thought of his relationship with Uraume as something more than master and subordinate makes him feel sick. Disgusting—

In front of him, your figure has begun to tremble, long eyelashes dampening with tears.

—but seeing you squirm is a delicacy like no other.

You don’t cry often, so when you do, Sukuna feels something dark flicker inside him. The thought that only he is able to make you feel things so greatly gives him a high.

“Come now, are you really crying over something like this?” Sukuna grumbles, pretending that your tears didn’t awaken something primal inside of him.

But it was weird: it usually takes more than that to ire you. Way, way more. He’d have to wipe out cities and slaughter hundreds of lives to get you to come to him with that disapproving look on your face.

Sukuna will admit that he loves it—your attention. But now, something is different. You’re still refusing to look at him, even going as far as to muffle your cries. Your whole body is turned away from him, like you want to get away.

That, he doesn’t love.

“Look at me.”

You stubbornly inch yourself away from him, sobs starting to escape from your lips.

There it is.

You cry so beautifully, it makes him want to ruin you. Yet, at the same time, he feels a surge of something uncomfortable—the more you sob, the more he has difficulty breathing.

Sukuna didn’t know he was capable of having a guilty conscience.

“Alright, alright. Cease this at once. Look at me.”

Sukuna wrenches your hands away from your face. The sight that greets him makes him feel it again—the irritating dread that crawls up his stomach.

Even with tears running down your face, you’re still glaring at him with those red, puffy eyes. He sees your lips, bleeding from how hard you were biting them. They quiver, and you almost bite them again—but this time, Sukuna is quicker.

His lips crashes onto yours with urgency. He can taste the metallic taste of your blood, a taste that he loves—but not this time, not this way.

His hands has moved to your palms, clasping them with a rare gentleness. He can feel the resistance leaving your body slowly as you melt against him.

“There’s my girl,” Sukuna grins when he pulls away, his breath still hot on your lips, “no more crying.”

“I still haven’t forgiven you.”

Sukuna huffs. He could just leave you to deal with your own anger, but he had a feeling that the consequences of him doing that would come back to bite him in the ass. “Do you wish to know why I failed to show up to dinner that time?”

“If you were meeting with another woman, I don’t want to hear it.” you say, looking away from him.

Being Sukuna’s wife is many things: exciting, intoxicating,—but easy, it is not. Sometimes you can’t figure out whether he truly loves you, not when he never says the words out loud. For him, love is worthless. Who’s to say you’re not another thing he picks up out of interest, only to throw away?

Sukuna stays silent, only moving to kiss you again with more force than before—like he’s giving you an answer. His big hands are still clasped over yours. For a moment, you consider forgiving him.

Then he bites your lip. Hard.

“Sukuna!” you jerk away from him, looking at him in disbelief.

“I will forgive you this once for spouting such nonsense,” Sukuna’s voice is low with warning, “there will be no next time.”

You look at him, wronged.

Sukuna sighs, running a hand through his salmon hair. “Is it not your birthday coming up soon?”

You tilt your head.

It’s only after the king of curses presents you with a large bouquet of peonies do you finally understand: he missed your anniversary because he was busy procuring flowers—for your birthday, no less.

It’s such an unfamiliar sight—an oddly domestic one, that you can’t help but let a smile crack through your features.

“I do not care for this ‘anniversary’ you talk about. I am more than capable of giving you the same amount of affection every single day. But the day of your birth, I do see some significance in,” Sukuna doesn’t notice the giddy smile on your face and continues with his explanation, “and while your taste in flowers are exquisite, peonies are not easy to get.”

“But still, you could’ve told me or something.” you pout, hoping he’ll console you, “I waited for hours like an idiot. The servants will think I’ve lost favor with you.”

Displeasure flashes across Sukuna’s face. “Who would dare to make such assumptions? I will have their heads immediately.”

“That’s not the point!”

The point is, Sukuna is growing tired of your stubborness.

He sighs and lowers himself on one knee, reaching for your hand and guiding it to rest against his cheek. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at the gesture.

“Ha, you’re smiling now? I have not even said anything,” there’s no mistaking the teasing in his tone, “wife, do you like seeing me below you, begging to be forgiven?”

Yes, you almost voice out your answer. The smirk on Sukuna’s lips widens, his eyes studying your reactions intently.

“Feeling proud of yourself I see,” he mocks, “Well, you should be. You alone are the only person in this world I kneel for.”

His nonchalant straightforwardness sends shivers down your spine.

Sukuna glances up at you, “Now, are you still going to deny me of your affection?”

You immediately leap into his arms, letting his arms engulf you. Sukuna just chuckles, immediately knowing that he is forgiven.

He still does not understand the significance people put in certain days, or actions. What he does know is how much he hates it when you avoid him. So if all it takes for you to forgive him are some flowers and him getting down on one knee—well, he’ll gladly do so, as many times as you wish.

“I love you, Kuna.”

He doesn’t reply. But the content hum that vibrates through his chest gives you all the answers you need.

@goxjo it’s here :’) !!

[satorusprites]

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎𝓢TARRING 𝓡OLE

✦ ── pairing: actor!gojo x assistant!reader

✦ ── synopsis: gojo simply can't handle the newfound attention on his darling assistant.

✦ ── contents: explicit smut, fingering f! recieving, inappropriate work relationship, power dynamics, piv, oral m! recieving, post-argument sex, angst, hurt/no comfort, jealousy, really out of character and mean!gojo.

✦ ── a/n: if you've read this before, no you haven't. i was going to make this a gojo x reader x choso series but i think it works better as a oneshot so. here you go. also in the grind of using marina songs thanks to @indiewritesxoxo ily.

art by keikunn_sama on ig, dividers by anitalenia and dollywons

A haze of flashing and flickering lights passed you by—champagne spilled on plush carpeting and stark white grins of pure ecstasy, pride and veneers were what consisted of your evenings as you slinked in the back corner just out of sight.

Aside from the way you found yourself under his spotlight, tangled up in his arms to tie a pretty bow on the night, stamped with a smeared kiss of scarlet lipstick to his wrist.

Which he’d find a way of wiping off before the clock struck 12:00 AM.

Your back slammed into his wooden door, face warping into a contortion of pleasure and pain as your fingers curled through his silky hair. His massive hands roamed the surface of your skin until they found the plush underside of your thighs, gripping and squeezing like you were his singular anchor amidst a sea of chaos, the sole thing to ground him in reality. 

He was never gentle when he took you, simply too caught up in his keening lust.

His mouth trailed down the column of your neck in hungry kisses as he slowly rutted into you, dry humping you like a feral animal. Yet his mouth never connected with yours, his body making passionate love to you but his mouth whispering sweet nothings. 

With your skirt riding up your thighs, the shortest pair you owned brought along with you for the night, his fingers traced the damp spot coating your panties, a smug grin dancing across his lips as he slid them to the side, slipping his fingers in. Your body immediately wracked with goosebumps, the lust overwhelming you as he worked you open, fingers scissoring and dragging down your gummy walls.

His biceps rippled with effort as he held you up with one hand and teased you with the other, mouth latched onto your collarbone but never hard enough to mark you as his.

“Always so ready for me,” he breathed out in swollen pride, chest heaving as his pupils were blown wide in a hungry gleam, sapphire eyes dissecting your every movement.

Something about his tone, the assuredness that he could slip you into a dressing room backstage of the venue celebrating his brand new movie premiere and have you folded like fucking origami under his influence…

It wounded your pride more than you’d like to admit.

The chatter and instrumentals of the event did enough to conceal your moans and the way the door bounced with each thrust of his fingers, soon turned his shaft, into you.

 “How’s it feel, baby?” He quizzed with a purr in your ear before clamping down on the lobe as you clenched onto him like a vice. “Fuck, girl. Tryna’ milk me already?”

You tossed your head to the side, practically feeling him in your bones, his cologne and musk bathing over you and making your chest ache with something undeserving—hence your title. 

His assistant.

The girl who manages his schedules, who is by his side when he falls asleep and when he wakes, who he goes to when the media has spun up a new scandal and has you outline a response with the PR team to keep him from falling apart. 

You fetch whatever sweets he’s craving before he even knows he’s craving them, and you stand behind the camera as he twirls the dazzling new co-star and dips the actress into a kiss, one laced with such yearning and passion that it makes you wonder if he feels that way with every new co-worker, or if he’s managed to dupe his own assistant because his acting was just that good.

But who were you to have a say in any of this? All you could do was enjoy the ride he’d take you on whenever he’d set his gaze on you, floating high in the sky in his grasp and praying that your feet wouldn’t so much as graze the ground again.

You brought a hand over your mouth to muffle your nearing climax, legs wrapped around his waist and your mind feeling tipsy despite remaining incredibly sober the entire night.

The documents you’d brought into the room were scattered across the floor near your kitten heels, your pantyhose not without a few tears from his clawing hands to feel every inch of you.

“You on the pill?” He queried with a gasp, head tossed back as he slammed a hand on the door near your head, his hips driving you up into the wall as his tip kissed your cervix just right.

“Mmf!” You nodded quickly, biting your palm hard enough that you’d be tasting copper any moment now.

He didn’t waste a second, and neither did you, his seed ribboning ropes into you and coating your walls as your orgasm washed over you, stars blotting your vision out for the second time that night, your skin blanketed in a sticky layer of perspiration under your mussed blouse, glasses crooked and eyes low.

Gojo helped you to the ground, grabbing a handful of napkins from the dressing table and passing it over to you so you could clean yourself up.

Shoving his cock back into his briefs and slacks, he adjusted the zipper and plopped down on the couch, running a hand through his hair, head resting lazily against the backrest with his lashes fluttered shut. 

Your eyes trailed his plush lips, part of you wishing they were kiss-bitten. He looked so peaceful half-asleep.

You watched him quietly before you gathered your things you’d unceremoniously spread against the tile floors.

“There’s an afterparty hosted at your condo tonight,” you spoke to break the silence, pleating out your skirt and fixing your appearance to the best of your ability in the mirror.

“Cancel it,” he whined out, lifting his head and cocking it. “A man is a little more than tuckered out. Though I wouldn’t say no to round two,” he teased, running his tongue over his lower lip, eyeing the curve of your ass with no shame.

You scowled, doing the best to mask the flutter of your heart that resonated deep in your chest and shook your head. “We’re gonna get caught like this, Gojo. Your movie premiere? Really?”

He clicked his tongue as he manspread, bringing a hand down to palm his crotch.  “You weren’t complaining when I was inside you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to conceal the way he could make you infuriatingly flustered with his snide comments. “You’re not cancelling. Ijichi will be here in 15.”

–

“Who the hell decorated?”

You slid out of the limousine, tossing his nervous driver a reassuring glance and letting him know he was off for the rest of the night before shutting the door.

“Maybe you’d have a say in it if you attended even one of your post-project meetings, But instead, you send me as your representative,” you muttered under your breath, dusting off your dress. You’d brought it along for the after party, a formal yet sexy black gown, matched with Gojo’s black dress shirt and slacks. 

He sported a silver chain, the top buttons of his shirt undone and giving you, and everyone else, a free show of his mouth-watering collarbones.

As if noticing your train of thought, he placed a hand on the small of your back and began to lead you in, sliding his shades on and flashing his signature smile to groupies surrounding the entrance. “Almost looks like we’re a couple.”

A lump rose in your throat as you glanced up at him, admiring the sharp edges of his features before you moved his hand away from you, stepping into the bustling atmosphere of his luxurious condo and motioning towards the kitchen. “You’ve got people waiting for you. I’ll grab us a couple of drinks.”

He tilted his head down, eyeing you over the rim with a curious look, before it vanished. “Don’t spike it.”

“Can’t promise anything,” you teased.

Before he walked away, his arm rubbed your bare bicep in such a way it had your brain short-circuit. To anyone around, it was simply a boss giving their assistant some platonic affection, teetering on the edge of professionalism and friendship. But to you, it held something more telling, more dizzying, than you’d like to admit.

You stepped into the kitchen, trudging past the chefs after waving to them, accepting a few compliments on your rare dolled-up look, before pursing your lips, wanting to itch away the prominent crease in your browline. 

You’re his assistant, you thought. Get it together.

There wasn’t a world out there where Satoru Gojo would put his romantic life before his career, and remaining the heartthrob of the century has done numbers to his reputation as he’s only had fleeting speculations of chemistry with practically all of his co-stars.

Any concrete dating rumors right now, especially with his no-name assistant,  would practically snatch the Sexiest Man of the Year magazine title right from his grasp.

Not to mention, besides being his fuck buddy, who were you to think that he would have eyes for you? You were practically a nobody, simply assigned to the life of being glued to his hip for eternity.

“One drink won’t hurt,” you whispered, grabbing a bottle of white wine and pouring yourself a short glass before bottoming it out.

You searched the fridge for some soda, grabbing a pair of cans and pouring them into wine glasses and heading back into the party as Gojo wasn’t a drinker and you were technically on the clock.

Spotting Gojo immediately with his alabaster locks, you stood by his side, the conversation that was drowned out by the commotion of the party entering your atmosphere.

“There she is,” a low voice drawled out, one you didn’t recognize. It belonged to a tall man with raven tresses, sporting a sharp black suit with a cigar hanging limply from his lips. 

You handed Gojo his glass, passing a confused look with it which he only matched with an unreadable one. Though, you couldn’t ignore the subtle tick of his clenched jaw.

The stranger must’ve noticed your wonder, waving his arms around before starting to clear up any misunderstandings you could assume. “Gojo, here, was just telling me about you. I gotta say, he’s got wonderful taste in women.”

You opened your mouth as your eyes widened to correct him, but Gojo beat you to it.

“She’s just my assistant.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as something akin to bile teased the back of your tongue, gripping your clutch a little tighter before you focused your attention back on the black-haired man and reached your hand out. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Shiu Kong.” He smirked, taking your hand in his before kissing the back.

You could feel your face flush from recognition and shyness within seconds, not even aware of the pair of cerulean eyes piercing where your hand connected with Shiu’s.

“My goodness, sir. I apologize for not recognizing you, I am a huge fan of your work.”

He dropped your hand and waved his, dismissing the notion away with a gentle smile. “No problem at all. A lady like you seems to have her hands busy, anyway,” he teased, tossing you a knowing look whilst wiggling his eyebrows, jutting a thumb towards Gojo.

Annoyance practically radiated off of Gojo in waves as he shoved his free hand in his pockets, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue before taking a calculated sip of his drink. “Well, it’s been nice catching up, Kong. But we’ve gotta-”

“Oh, that’s fine, but would you mind if I snagged your assistant for a moment? I think she’s got some real talent I’d like to scope out.”

“Talent?” You and Gojo questioned in unison.

Shiu nodded, taking a drag from his cigar and exhaling contently. “You’re a beautiful young lady. I’d like to see you on my runway.”

“Oh wow, uh, I’d love to-”

“She’s just fine.”

You tossed Gojo a glare, needing him to shut up as he was ruining your chances with his tantrum, before he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and dragged you away from the man all without saying goodbye. So much for the pleasantries you’ve been instilling in him.

He hurried his pace up the grand staircase, silently placing both of your drinks off to a waiter, not even caring that half the industry was giving the two of you odd stares before he pulled you into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. The music muffled to a quiet hum, and all you could hear was your racing heart and Gojo’s breathing.

You were the first to break the suffocating silence. “With all due respect—what the fuck, Gojo?”

He had his back turned towards you, shoulders tensed, and you couldn’t see the way his fists balled in the pockets of his slacks.

You gave him a moment to respond, feeling your skin simmering with something hot, before feeling your exasperation take over you. “You know what? Forget it. I’m gonna try and find Kong and pray to God that the offer still stands after whatever all of that was.”

Gojo turned around, and you could feel your entire body fall stock-still in that moment. His eyes swam with an unsettling and unfamiliar coldness that made your body stiff under his gaze before it turned into bitter mirth. “He’s not actually interested in making you his model, for your information,” he curtly stated.

Your mouth turned dry at his bluntness, opening it and trying to find the right words. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He chuckled dryly, shrugging his shoulders so lazily that it looked like they carried a heavy weight. “It’s his schtick. He’s gonna take you back to his studio, have you try on a couple dresses, fuck you ‘till you can’t walk, then toss you a couple hundred bills.”

You narrowed your eyes, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips as you took a step forward. “So you’re saying there’s no universe in where a guy like that might actually be interested in me? In what I could offer?”

His eyebrows knitted, orbs scanning your offensive stance, miffed that you wouldn’t listen to his warnings and skepticism. “Oh c’mon, you know that's not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Gojo?”

He only stared at you, displeased with your response instead of just listening to him before jumping to conclusions. 

But you had your answer.

“Real nice, Gojo,” you tersely remarked, turning around to grab the doorknob and make your way out of there. You weren’t going to take any more of his ridicule, you had your fill for the evening, before a hand on top of yours stopped you.

You could see his shadow loom over yours on the door, just like it had a few hours before, and just like it always had. You released a shaky breath as his fanned against the crown of your ear.

“Listen, baby,” he sighed, and you had to stifle a whimper from such an endearment he has yet to call you before. “I can’t lose you.”

“...Lose me?” You whispered, hating how small it came out. You weren’t sure if he meant lose you as the assistant he adored and needed every moment of every day, or losing his fuck buddy to someone else, his tone laced with a jealousy you couldn’t decipher.

“Mhm,” he groaned, and you could feel his bulge press up against your ass, leaving you to wonder how he’d gotten turned on from arguing so quickly. Yet, you’d be lying if you said your thighs weren’t rubbing against each other.

“You wouldn’t lose me,” you attempted to reassure him, feeling your resolve crumble, reaching a hand up past your shoulder to his milky tresses as he dipped his head to press tender kisses to your nape.

“Then prove it to me.”

Within moments, he had you on your knees, his cock down your throat and hands tangled in your hair, guiding you down his shaft. “Just like that, sweetie,” he drawled out with a moan, tossing his head back and discarding of his shades lazily.

Tears filled your waterline as you struggled to take him whole, pulling back and dragging your tongue down the veins you’d memorized long ago.

Gojo let out a groan as his fingernails raked your scalp for some semblance of sanity, his mind slurred in a lustful daze. “Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he whined and you braced your fluttering stomach by placing your hands on his thighs, bobbing your head far down enough your nose nuzzled against his snowy drapes.

With the way he began chanting your name like you were some sort of salvation, you knew he was drawing closer to his climax. Pulling away, you flicked your tongue over the slit before he came with a loud moan. You opened your mouth, allowing him to come undone down your throat and drinking up every last drop he gave you.

You helped him ride out his orgasm, peppering soft kisses along the side of his member before watching his dick to hang limply in front of your face with minute twitches.

He pulled his briefs and slacks back up and over, zipping it and running a hand through his once gelled hair now disheveled, just like he had done a few hours ago.

You felt like you were stuck in a fucking time loop.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling oddly full from the amount of cum he’d just made you guzzle down and stood up. His bed looked oddly comfortable right now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t taken you up here before and fucked you silly on his comforter, but he’d yet to do anything remotely nearing intimacy with you there, making your stomach churn with something as you recalled the previous argument.

“Should we head back?” He asked, eyeing you carefully as he tossed a blazer on.

“Am I just a casual fuck to you, Gojo?” You blurted out, forcing yourself to meet him in a heated glare.

Yet, it didn’t make him falter. It was as if he’d been waiting for this question, like it was something so meager and bothersome he’d wish to sweep it under the rug until the pile was too much of an obstacle. “You’re my assistant,” he cooly replied, as if that held all the uncontroversial answer you’d been looking for.

All thanks to his fucking media training.

“Exactly. I’m your assistant that you like to bend over at any chance. But it’s just that, isn’t it?”

He cocked his head, the fortitude of a man only allowing you to clarify without the grace of a response.

“You weren’t jealous of Shiu, were you?”

And that seemed to piss him off, his left eye subtly twitching as his molars grinded against each other. “The fuck would I be jealous of?” He defensively answered through clamped teeth.

“Jealous that another guy could get his hands on your prized goods,” you remarked, crossing your arms over your chest as your rage only seemed to inflate by the moment. Was his ego and pride too fucking huge to admit that maybe he selfishly wanted you to himself?

Or maybe Gojo was still the immature teenage boy who couldn’t untangle his disordered feelings.

“I’m not doing this right now,” he scoffed, making his way past you towards the celebration of his brand new movie which he hadn’t cared about before, but there was significantly less stifling tension downstairs than up here right now.

“Leave this room… and I’m done,” you stated flatly, keeping your eyes trained on the ground as his shoulder brushed against yours. You shut your lashes that threatened to spill the tears that were about to cascade down your cheeks.

Every part of you prayed that his hands would find them roaming your figure again like they never failed to, whispering apologies while he thrusted into you and begged to fix things.

But, his answer was imparted as you heard the doorknob twist, propping the door open and shutting it behind him.

You opened your eyes to his empty bedroom, feeling something heavy settle in your core as tears raced down your cheeks, unable to hide the hurt that immediately washed over you.

There wasn’t a place for you here anymore, he communicated that unambiguously.

Your body moved with a goal in mind, searching his drawers for a sheet of loose paper and a pen, scribbling your resignation letter for him to find with wet and blurry eyes before exiting the bedroom that once held a familiar comfort, only now ringing with the painful knowledge that you were simply expendable in his life. It wouldn’t be hard to slip out of his condo unnoticed and find an uber back to your apartment.

He’d find another assistant, he’d have no issue. Maybe they wouldn’t be as competent as you were right away, but they’d figure it out eventually.

Nevertheless, you hoped that your absence would ring a significant volume in his life as you promised yourself to never stand before him again, not unless you’d managed to move on from him and make a name for yourself that would be recognized from every corner of the globe.

[satorusprites]

bitter. angst. satoru gojo. ryomen sukuna. chapter index.

Sukuna was the sort of guy who didn't have to say anything.

His hands spoke for him. Calloused, always rough, but slow as they roamed over your skin a couple hours later. They didn't skim or skip anything. Took his time telling you he was there - and he wasn't going anywhere.

"He wants to co-parent," You murmured, leaning with you back against his chest with an exhale. It wasn't a sigh. Just another breath to remind yourself this was real. Saori was napping on the couch, the volume on the TV turned down, a brightly-colored character dancing on the screen. She barely blinked when you told her that 'guy' was her other daddy - the one from all those photo albums. Just asked if that meant he'd buy her toys too, still at that age where she accepted life as it happened to her.

You wished you could do the same.

"I don't like this," Sukuna grunted, and you knew that really just meant he didn't like him.

Somehow, that was what Satoru had become. Some unnamed entity. He. Him. Your ex-husband. Saori's biological father.

But never just Satoru.

"We can just take it slow for now, okay?" You tried to reassure Sukuna, glancing over your shoulder at him. "You're still her dad too. He knows that."

He scoffed, a flash of irritation bubbling up at the word too.

"Guys like him get everything they want," He grumbled, and you felt a familiar wince of hurt, the urge to defend Satoru engrained in your bones and intertwined with your soul. It was second nature. "Am I supposed to just let him steal you? Saori?"

"That's not going to happen," You quietly murmured, molars grinding against each other. "Can we talk about this in the bedroom? I don't want to wake her up."

Instead of just letting you lead the way, he picked you up, twisted you around and tossed you over his shoulder. Half because he wanted to, the rest just because he could. That you were still his girlfriend, that he was still the one who built your furniture and bent you over the bed at night.

And sure, you didn't have his ring on your finger and your daughter didn't have his pink hair, but even if you ended up sharing custody of Saori, he was the only one who got all of you.

Sukuna nudged the bedroom door open, halfway throwing you on the bed, the soft mattress making you bounce a little. He pulled you to the edge of it, on his knees as he spread your thighs further apart, pushed your sundress up enough to show a lacy pink pair of panties.

"I don't want to share either of you," He begrudgingly admitted, fingers digging into your pliable muscles to pin them to the bed.

"I can't stop him from being a part of Saori's life." And truthfully, you didn't want to. All you'd ever wanted was for both of them to be happy - and if Satoru wanted a place in her life, was willing to forget about the past and push forward to a future that wasn't fantasies or forced smiles, you'd figure out how to be happy too.

"I know," Sukuna huffed, leaning down to leave a kiss on the inside of your thighs. You almost shivered at the touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

"We'll work it out," You mumbled, doing your best to relax back in the bed. You could still smell the laundry detergent and the strawberry-scented body wash on the sheets. But traces of Satoru's cologne seemed to be sticking to your skin. "Together."

"I know how you feel about marriage but," He hesitated, and your stomach twisted. It was stupid, but your first panicked thought was this was it.

He was going to break it off because you were a coward with commitment issues or decide he didn't want to be a dad now that someone else did. You shoved it down, dismissed it, told yourself that he just said he didn't want to share you. Forced yourself to focus on his palms instead, how they pressed into your skin, until he let go of one to grab your chin. It wasn't exactly gentle, but he just guided it up so you had to meet his stare instead.

"What if we gave Saori a sibling?"

"A-are you serious?" You stammered. The question just sort of slipped out, one you couldn't help. It wasn't totally out of left field. He'd mentioned having a baby before - but usually that was when he was buried deep inside you, putting a hand over your stomach during sex.

You had never fully considered him actually wanting one with you.

He loved you and Saori. Already treated her as his own from the first day you let him in your life as something permanent.

But you'd seen the looks he'd get in public from people who could tell she wasn't his. Heard the whispers of strangers and even some (former) mutual friends who said they felt bad for him.

And still, he stayed.

"What? You just wanna hear me say it again?" He teased, grumbling under his breath. He spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable like he wanted it to sink in. "I want another little brat with you."

It felt like you'd fallen out of a second story window. Heart slamming down into your stomach - just to lurch up into your throat while you tried to think of a reply.

"You actually mean it," You breathlessly mumbled, a heavy feeling taking hold in your chest that made it hard to move, to do anything except blankly stare at him.

"We have the room," He shrugged. "I'll put up more shelves in the garage, store some stuff, set up a nursery for her in the spare room."

"Her?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to decide if your pulse picked up from adrenaline or anxiety.

"What do you think?"

"I mean, it's a big decision," You hesitated, biting your lip as you debated on what your brain was telling you versus what your body was dragging you towards with each drawn-out pattern he drew over your skin. "A baby?"

His hands drifted higher, the edge of his thumb still spelling something out on your thigh. His mouth was set in a hard line, eyes still dark and stormy, but you could see the faint hope (expectation?) that you'd say yes.

"Do you not want another one?" He bluntly asked, an edge to his words that made the spit pool in the back of your mouth. "Or just not with me?"

"Kuna," You spoke softly, reaching out your hand to cup his cheek, hoping he wouldn't notice the tremble in your fingers. "I do. It's just, can I just have some time to think about it?"

He didn't say it out loud, but you could see it in the faint twitch of his eyebrows. He was thinking about the same what-ifs you tortured yourself with. If it was Satoru who was asking, what would your answer be? An automatic yes?

And which version of him was he thinking of? The man who basically died? Or the one that came back in his place?

"How long are you gonna wait for him while I'm right here?"

[satorusprites]

Say My Name | (m)

pairing: xavier x sylus x afab/fem reader

summary: in which xavier overheard you and sylus and wanted some of the action…

warnings: threesome, choking, face slapping, hair pulling, slight submissive/perv xavier, cuckholding, unprotected sex, cum eating, dom sylus, non-monogamy, whimpery sylus, voyerism (?)

word count: 3.3k

authors note: thank you to my friend for proof reading and editing. this pairing is funny for me to write since Xavier has been my least favorite li since i started this game a year ago. but i found myself pulling for his memories in the last two banners siiiigh. of there are any xav/sy loves out there, this is for you,, happy valentines day <3

The sun was beginning to rise in the east while Sylus was just starting to get ready to go to sleep. While you, on the other hand, were trying your hardest to sneak in an extra hour of sleep before starting your day. Just as Sylus cuddled up next to you and you got comfy enough to close your eyes, the obnoxious ring of your doorbell sounded throughout your apartment. Your eyes flashed open and you groaned at the disturbance. Rolling over, you fully intended to ignore the sound until it rang again.

“Ugh, what the hell?” You grumbled, “Can’t you get it?”

“It’s my bedtime, sweetie,” Sylus cooed in your ear, “Besides, your alarm is about to go off. Might as well get the door.”

You threw Slyus’s arms off of you along with a glare in his direction and forced yourself to get out of bed. You shuffled your bare feet across the floor as you approached the front door. Looking through the peephole, you saw who was ringing your doorbell at the rather annoying hour of the morning.

“What are you doing up, Xavier?” You said as you opened the door, rubbing your eyes.

Xavier was still in his sleepwear, slippers on his feet and his hair a bit messy from slumber. His puffy and sleepy face looked cute however, there was something about him that seemed slightly troubled. It was the bags under his eyes.

“Well, I was trying to rest before our commission today, but something kept waking me up” He stated, voice still thick with sleep, pulling his eyebrows together in annoyance before continuing, “The walls in our building aren’t that thick, Y/N.”

“What’re you talking about?” At his comment, you suddenly felt more awake than any alarm had ever made you feel. You straightened your posture and wiped away any remaining traces of sleep from your eyes as you realized what he was implying.

“You’re going to pretend now,” He asked rhetorically, “Like you weren’t screaming another man’s name in the middle of the night?”

You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to shield yourself from his accusation.

“How are you so sure that was me?” You said quickly in an attempt to get this conversation over with.

Xavier paused for a moment before saying, “Let’s just say… I know how you sound when you’re having a good time.” He cocked his head to the side, letting his gaze fall to your chest for a moment before returning to your eyes.

You rolled your eyes before saying, “Go away, Xavier. I have to get ready for the day. Besides, our commission doesn’t start for another few hours.”

“It looks like you could use the extra hours of sleep…” He muttered to himself, “Fine, I’ll go- and tell the Association that you’re harboring a wanted criminal.”

Your eyes widened when you heard his threat. You gasped as you pulled him inside and firmly shut the door behind him. He smirked as you pushed him against the door and held his wrists hostage.

“Don’t you dare-.”

“Gotcha.” He said with a mischievous smile on his face.

“This isn’t funny… You can’t tell a soul that he’s here with me.”

“I’m pretty sure the whole complex knows he’s here with you.”

Xavier’s attitude was less than favorable, but he was right. You lost control and Sylus had no intentions to lower your volume himself. You must’ve gotten used to the secluded mansion back in the N-109 Zone, where the only one who heard you was Mephisto. And that was only if you forgot to let him out before getting into it.

At the realization, you loosened your grip on his wrists and took a small step back. It was clear you were embarrassed.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I won’t tell your secret.” He said, using his now free hand to twist the lock of the door behind him.

“You won’t?”

He shook his head, slowly approaching you.

“I won’t,” He said softly, “Although, hearing you so desperate and needy made me jealous… I was also—.”

He stopped himself, but you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You were also what?” You asked, curiosity on the tip of your tongue.

“I was aroused… Even though I knew I wasn’t the one pleasing you,” His voice somehow sounded even softer and weaker than before. Almost insecure. But he reached his fingers to your waistband anyway and gently pulled you closer, “I want you to say my name like that…”

He kissed your neck as his hand explored your waist. He snaked his fingers up your back, sending chills down your spine. You placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Xavier–.” You said, halfheartedly pushing him away.

“Yes, just like that,” He says breathily, planting more kisses on your shoulder and biting down on your skin, “Say my name just like that~”

“No, Xavier,” You say a bit more sternly despite your own enjoyment, “He’s still here, I probably shouldn’t—.”

In the next moment, Xavier was suddenly pressed against the wall, waves of red and black energy binding him in place. He struggled against it, trying to escape. He looked utterly helpless.

“Probably shouldn’t what, kitten?” Sylus’s deep voice growled from behind you.

“Sylus,” You said in a shaky surprise, “Why're you still up?”

“You were gone for too long. Can’t sleep without my favorite plushy, now can I?” He smirked before redirecting his gaze to Xavier, “This must be your little hunter friend from upstairs. Xavier, is it?”

“H-how do you know my name?”

“I know all of her friends,” He says with a cocky grin. He ceases his Evol and lets Xavier free, “Not personally of course, since I am a wanted criminal here in Linkon.”

After quoting Xavier directly, you realized he’d been listening to your entire conversation. He was just waiting for the right moment to pounce. This situation was only becoming worse for you as time passed. Sylus knew you had other flings in Linkon, but you never thought this would be how they met, if at all.

“Close the shades for me,” Sylus asked and you did so without hesitation, “And when was your commission today?”

“Uhm, I- I don’t remember…” You stammered.

“One o’clock.” Xavier timidly answered.

“Hmm,” Sylus glanced at the far-off clock in the kitchen, “Five hours should be enough time to recover and rest a bit before sending you off.”

“What do you mean?” You tensed as you came closer to the men again. You questioned why you’d be recovering. From punishment perhaps? Or something else…

“Xavier here wants you to scream his name,” He smirked in the dim light of the living room, “I’ll give him what he wants.”

You were even more confused than before, looking to Xavier for some sort of explanation. He was just as clueless as you.

Sylus reached his hand out to you and you took it. He pulled you in and held your back against his chest, making you face Xavier now. His hands rested on your shoulder and his finger traced the damp spots Xavier left. It stung once he got to the light hickey. You winced in discomfort.

“Does it hurt?” Xavier’s voice was laced with concern.

“N-no.” You muttered, somehow trying to prevent Sylus from hearing. But there was no point in hiding now.

“What exactly were you planning on doing to make her scream your name?” Sylus was clearly unimpressed by Xavier’s previous attempts to seduce you.

“You don’t have to answer that.” You said. Then Sylus’s hand crept to your neck and held it firmly in his grasp.

“Yes, you do. Tell me how you planned to make her cum,” Xavier struggled to muster a response, fingers fiddling at his sides. Sylus continued, “Want me to answer that for you?”

You couldn’t read Xavier’s face. You couldn’t tell if he was insulted by Sylus’s cockiness or enamored by his confidence. Or maybe he was just shocked that this wanted fugitive didn’t off him for hitting on his girl.

Sylus’s free hand snuck down to the elastic of your pajama shorts. He tugged them down just a bit.

“Get on your knees,” He commands him, “Get on your knees and take off her shorts.”

He looked at you with confused and pleading blue eyes. You didn’t know what to say, if anything at all.

“Don’t make her wait.” Sylus said, using his Evol to force Xavier to his knees.

Shocked and breathless, Xavier crawled to close the gap between you two and reached up to pull your pajama shorts down. His pupils practically dilated when he saw that you weren’t wearing any panties. His mouth gravitated towards your core like a magnet. He kissed your pelvic mound down to your sensitive clit.

Sylus let go of your neck so you could look down and watch. He even bumped his knee against the back of your thigh to make you open your legs wider. You whined as Xavier used this opportunity to lick the folds of your cunt and taste you.

“You taste so good.” He muttered into your core.

“Yeah, can you taste my cum dripping out of her?” Sylus said, now using his free hands to cup your breasts. You, on the other hand, were completely silenced by their actions. You felt guilty for Xavier eating you out as Sylus’s cum was still inside you from earlier.

But, to your surprise, Xavier didn’t seem to mind. He licked and sucked your pussy with even more passion, looking up at you with his puppy dog eyes and even glancing at Sylus for approval.

Your internal discomfort started to fade as you let yourself melt into the pleasure they were giving you. You leaned back into Sylus’s chest as Xavier used his tongue to please you. Once he saw you let go a little bit, Sylus wrapped an arm around your stomach as he leaned down to hold Xavier’s head with the other. He forced Xavier to press his mouth against you and tongue you even deeper. Your moans began to slip out.

“That’s it.” Sylus groaned, and Xavier hummed against your waters as well.

You were nearing your orgasm, breathlessly moaning and squirming. But as soon as you felt your release coming, Sylus picked you up and put you over his shoulder. You whined at the sudden change of pace.

“Follow.” He ordered Xavier and he did.

Sylus carried you to the bedroom and teased your wet cunt with his fingertips on the way. However, you could only see Xavier’s big eyes pleading for more contact. His mouth was glistening with your slick and his hard-on was visible through his thin pajama pants.

Sylus laid you down on the bed with a touch of aggression and turned you on your stomach. You liked being manhandled, but it still drew a surprised gasp from you. You turned your head over your shoulder to spot Xavier. His eyes were locked on your dripping wet pussy.

Sylus repositioned himself in front of you so his core was at the same level of your mouth. He caressed your head and face with his hand and gestured Xavier closer with the other. Xavier hesitated.

“Oh? Don’t get shy, now,” Sylus chuckled, rubbing his hand on your cheek, “Touch her, show me how you please her.”

“Why are you doing this?” Xavier asked shyly.

“Because,” Sylus smirked, using his Evol to pull Xavier closer, “If she’s going to shout your name over and over and over again ‘til the neighbors hear, you and her might as well know that it’s still me making her cum.”

You lowered your head as he said that. You didn’t know how to react or respond, but your body did. Your arousal was evident as slick ran down your thighs once more. Xavier could see it too, causing his erection to twitch in his pants. Sylus released his hold on Xavier and let him rest on the other end of the bed.

“Are you just going to stare at her or are you going to fuck her.” He asked, rolling down his sweatpants and letting his cock bob in front of your face.

“You’re not setting me up, are you?,” Xavier asked, slowly raking his fingertips over your ass and hips, “Giving yourself a reason to kill me like your other victims?”

Sylus chuckled. He looked down at you and caressed your head once more before directing your lips to kiss and suck his cock. You placed wet kisses all over his shaft. Once you reached the tip, he winced at the sensitivity.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it the moment you rang the fucking doorbell,” He groaned, his resolve crumbling as your mouth engulfed his throbbing cock, “I figured if you’re gonna fuck my girl, you might as well do it right.”

“I want to please her~” Xavier’s voice was so needy and desperate as his grip on your hips tightened, “Teach me, Sylus.”

Sylus’s cock twitched inside your mouth. Something about Xavier’s plea made him more excited. You’d be lying to yourself if you claimed it didn’t make you wetter.

“Take off your pants,” Sylus demanded, sending slow strokes in and out of your mouth, “T-tease her with your cock. Just the tip.”

It seemed Sylus was needy too, hands tangled in your hair as his raspy voice instructed Xavier. The other man listened intently, following his orders exactly. He slowly ran his leaking tip up and down your dripping cunt. Your pussy, despite being fucked out from earlier, was practically begging for Xavier’s attention. You were opening up and getting wetter from his teasing. And Sylus could tell since you were whining and humming on his dick.

“Just like that- just a little more,” He said, “Don’t give in until she’s begging for it.”

As you heard this, you whined even more. How could he expect you to beg for it if your mouth was full? He took this opportunity to make you throat him and make you struggle to even whine, let alone beg. With Xavier’s tip just barely pushing into you and Sylus filling your mouth, you were overstimulated yet silently begging for more. All you could do was paw at Sylus’s thigh as faint tears rolled down your face.

“What’s that, kitten?” Sylus asked, slowly taking his cock from your throat. He let you catch your breath as he watched the saliva drip from your gaping mouth.

“I- I can’t take it anymore.” You said, looking up at Sylus with his dick in between your eyes.

“Can’t take what anymore?”

“The t-teasing,” You said, prompting Xavier to push in just a little bit then quickly pull out, “Shit- I need it.”

“Need what?” They both asked at the same time. Sylus smirked.

“D-dick.” You admitted rather timidly.

“Who’s dick?” Xavier followed up, nails digging deeper into the flesh on your hips.

“Yours, Xavier,” You finally said, voice whiny and pathetic, “I need your dick.”

“Louder, kitten,” Sylus ordered, “He’s not going to give you what you want unless you show him you really want it.”

“Please, please, Xavier,” You moaned louder, “Please, Xavier, I need you inside me.”

Saying this right in front of Sylus was so embarrassing, but there was something so arousing about that. Not only letting yourself be so desperate, but letting him see you be so desperate.

“Did she earn it? Hm?” Sylus grunted as he put your mouth on his cock again.

Xavier nodded as he finally pushed his length inside you. He filled you up nicely and he thrusted into you at a decent pace. Sylus matched his pace in your mouth and the sensation was quite surreal.

“Is that what you wanted,” Sylus’s dark whimpery voice asked you, lightly slapping you across the face, “Y-you wanted us to fill you up?”

You hummed in response as you are unable to form a real answer. You looked up at Sylus with wet bedroom eyes. His gaze was loving and lustful as he penetrated your throat once more.

“D-don’t move,” He said, using his hand to keep your head in place, “You’re gonna make me c-cum.”

After a few more messy strokes from him, you felt your throat being filled with his warm cum with one last thrust. He kept his dick inside you and didn’t begin to pull out until every last drop was swallowed. He slowly pulled out of you and the top half of your body collapsed onto the bed, leaving your bottom half to be dealt with by Xavier.

Xavier kept his pace steady and his hands safely on your waist. You let out a few moans, but you were still coming down from the face fucking you just received.

Sylus, surely exhausted since it was way past his bedtime, laid down beneath you. He picked you up and let your head rest on his stomach.

“Is that the best you can do?” He asked Xavier.

The younger swallowed hard before thrusting into you a bit faster. Your moans became a bit louder, but you were still lacking energy.

“Like this,” Sylus said, using his Evol to control Xavier’s hips. He made him go slower, but hit harder and deeper, causing you to jolt awake, “S-see that? Look at her tremble.”

And you were trembling then. That rhythm and depth allowed Xavier to hit parts of you he hadn’t in your previous sessions. You couldn’t lazily lie down on Sylus’s stomach anymore, you had to slightly hold yourself up. Sylus snaked his hand down your back and fixed your arch.

“Oh my god-.” You moaned, reaching your hand down to your stomach and feeling Xavier slightly bulging out.

Xavier lowered his other hand down to your stomach to feel the bulge that you do.

“I’m so deep inside you, Y/N,” His whiny voice whimpered from behind you, readjusting his fingers to rub your clit, “And you feel so good.”

You moaned on his praise. This caused Sylus to release his Evol and Xavier began to thrust faster while playing with your clit.

“Xavier,” You moaned, using your free hand to grasp onto Sylus, “Harder. Please, harder.”

Sylus took this as his cue to grip a fistful of your hair and tug your head back. Xavier listened and obeyed. His thrusts were bruising as he snapped into you harder. You were so close to the edge and they could both sense it.

“Xavier, please.” You screamed.

He fucked into you like his life depended on it. Both of your orgasms were dangerously close. He felt his control slipping away as your cunt contracted around his cock. He was whimpering and moaning with everything, as he desperately thrusted.

“Xavier, before you cum,” Sylus started, sleepy voice harmonizing with your moans, “Why did you let me do this? L-let her hear you.”

Your eyebrows pulled together in pleasure as you awaited his answer.

“B-because- even if you’re orchestrating it, I just- I just want her to say my name~.” He said breathlessly.

“S-say it, kitten.” Sylus demanded, eyes lulling closed by the second.

“Xavier, Xavier fuck-,” You screamed as your core feels nothing but pure pleasure, “I-I’m cumming, Xavier.”

“C-cum for me, mhph- fuck~.” He whimpered as he felt you clench his cock and milk him. He messily spilled himself into you, collapsing next to you and pulling you into his arms.

In his sleep, Sylus nuzzled next to you and kissed your forehead. Xavier drifted off as well. And once you finally caught your breath, you let yourself fall asleep as well, you prayed your internal clock would wake you up in time for the commission. Coincidentally, that's exactly when your alarm went off. Before you could even groan in annoyance, Xavier was quick to silence your alarm so the three of you could rest together for a few more hours.

[satorusprites]

some silly geto sketches

[satorusprites]

dreaming

[satorusprites]

❀ In which husband!Nanami is reminded of a letter his younger self wrote...about you

“Ken,” you yell out in a sing-songy voice. “Come over here, oh great husband of mine.”

Light footfalls pitter patter down the hallway. Soon, the owner of said feet appears in the doorway, half-dressed, glasses foggy and hair still damp. Of course, you prefer him in a towel or nothing at all but that hardly matters right now. 

At the present moment, there’s something wonderful, life-changing, and perfectly entertaining making you smile ear to ear; you appear as a clown-like villain, no doubt. That doesn’t deter him, however – likely very used to your uninhibited excitement by now. Still, he does approach with a cautious look about him. Experienced sorcerer that he is, Kento eyes the room, scanning it up and down, corner to corner, and once more, whether for a threat or for a trap you’ve set for him, none can tell. Though, it’s probably all the same to him. 

“Something wrong, darling?”

Your grin widens. “On the contrary, Kento Bento…something’s very very right.”

When you flash the letter you hold in your hand in front of him, his small smile drops. The yellowed thing is snatched from your grip at lightning speed, crumpled in a tight fist, veins popping dangerously. He purses his lips and furrows his brows, jaw clenching, and, ever so faintly, pink dusts the surface of his pretty cheeks. 

As expected.

Slowly, like he’s unsure of what to say and how to proceed, he asks, “W-where -ahem- where did you get this?”

Ooh, his voice is all deep and gravelly. He's either very mad or very horny. Hard to tell. No, wait. Yep, no boner. Okay. Tread carefully, you warn yourself.

“Oh, just a fairy godmother passing by, wanted to give me something to play with for the weekend, I suppose,” you reply, making a show of checking your nails and yawning. Kento curses a certain white-haired man’s name under his breath before he sits on the bed, knees weak, you can only guess. He doesn’t put up a fight when you creep into his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, like clockwork. Strong hands steady you by your hip, moving instinctively. “Wanna explain yourself, Kennypie?”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to recognise the letter as quickly as he did. It was instantaneous, as was the rapid swipe of his defensive hand, the wind generated tickling your skin in a blink of an eye. And how the scheming fairy godmother had it, you might never know. In fact, when you asked, he just booped your nose and skipped down the hallway even though you both knew he could teleport. 

That was how he appeared in front of your house door in the first place. 

Sighing, Kento kneads your thigh and hides his face in the crook of your neck, stubble gone. “I already told you about my feelings, honey. You know how I felt about you in our school days. None of it was a secret. Not anymore.”

If someone had told you, at that tender age, that the brooding, anti-social blond in the corner of the classroom would be your husband in the future, you would have believed them; Kento had always been a great man, and whilst a lot about him has changed over the years, consequence of a life destined for sacrifice and danger, that will never. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t realise seeing just a glimpse of me ‘threatened the foundations’ of your beliefs. Nor did I know a day without me was ‘torture wrapped in bliss.’ I mean, bliss? Really, Ken? The torture bit I liked but then you kinda bummed me out very soon after.”

He groans. “I can only guess that my younger self, needlessly angsty as he was, was referring to the taxing effort to, I don't know, pretend to be cool and calm and collected around you. It was hard to know where the lines were, what the right thing to say and do was. It was all so new to me. Surely, you understand that I was a nervous wreck around you.”

That much, you knew. How could you not?

Kento would often opt to give you one syllable answers when you said something to him or ignore you, plain and simple. The young man never smiled at your jokes, didn’t accept offers for free food or to walk together after school. For a long time, you thought he hated you.

It was Haibara, sweet, selfless Haibara, who kindly let you in on the secret: your future husband actually held you in high regards.

Nodding, you run a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. He groans, this time for a different reason. “I get it, hon. You already know I liked you too and didn’t say anything either, so I can’t really fault you for choosing to write down all these big feelings in a letter instead of telling me.”

“Then, are we done? Can we pretend this never happened and you never read the contents of this damned letter?”

You kiss him on the forehead. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to go through it line by line. I want a detailed explanation for every single thought. Let’s call it a ‘catching up’ of some sorts.”

“Must we?” He asks, eyes flitting to the abandoned, crumpled letter on the floor. “It’s a shame it’ll be difficult to read now. Sorry, sweetheart. Alright, would you like your feet massaged or are we in the mood for a movie before bed?”

Mentally rolling your eyes, you think, nice try, Ken.

Laughing, you shove him back, bouncing on the mattress with him. Hair all mussed up and glasses askew, you fill his vision and say, “Actually, Nanami 'The World Disappears When I smell Her Addictive Scent' Kento, we won’t need the letter at all; I remember every thing."

He gulps.

"Like, line number thirty five: ‘If God truly existed, he would deign to send a butterfly fluttering by my head so that she, beautiful angel that she is, will have a reason to even look my way.’ And a personal favourite, line sixty four: ‘Would she hate me if she knew the things I think of at night, when the ache to touch, taste, and hear all that she can give becomes overwhe–”

“T-that’s enough. Please, my love. Spare me. Have mercy on your poor husband. I can’t stand to listen to a single word that pathetic idiot felt so inclined to write down like a coward.”

Unamused by his self-deprecating nonsense, you smack his chest and then peck the skin. “Hey! That ‘pathetic idiot’ is my husband. Even if his hair was all funny and silly, you be nice to him. He's a precious, sensitive soul.”

His lips purse.  “Yes, dear.”

"Say it."

Kento groans, again, and attempts to shake you off. His wife doesn’t budge and the poor man is left with nothing to do but attempt to regain control instead. So, he growls, "I said, that's enough."

"Kento."

Defeated.

Slain.

"…I'm a precious, sensitive soul."

Humiliated.

You giggle. "Good boy. Now, there was a smudge around paragraph twenty two. Did it say 'I dream of her far too often' or 'I cream for her far too often?' 'Cause personally, I hope it's the latter."

[satorusprites]

THREE WORDS I WANT TO SAY (suguru x reader)

Unspoken love that is very much there, angst, pre-defection!suguru

Three words. You've been carrying them locked tight behind your teeth. Although in their place, you’ve spoken a hundred other things that hold the same weight. Slipped them into other sentences, buried them in the gentle caress of your face in the crook of his neck.

It’s 6:02am in the morning when Suguru knocks on your door. You‘re lying in bed, making no real effort to get up. But you shift, just slightly closer towards the narrow space between the mattress and the wall, to make room. An unspoken invitation.

He lets himself in without a word, quiet as always. You only have to count to five silently before you feel him: the soft press of his lips on your forehead, a gentle hand brushing stray hair out of the way. His touch on your skin feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Mission,” is all he says.

Suguru hasn’t taken his shoes off; judging by the heaviness of his footsteps as they scrape dully against the wooden floor. It must be urgent. This is your ritual, the reason why you leave your dorm room unlocked and why your sleep schedule is in shambles right alongside his, because he always says he wants you to be “the last thing I see before I go”.

“You’ve been going on so many solo ones lately,” you whisper, voice thick with sleep. You reach a hand out from under the blankets until it finds his, fingers curling around his knuckles.

It's too dark to really see him, not through your bleary eyes and in the grainy blur of the early-morning, but you already know he’s wearing the same tired eyes, the same grimace trying to pass for a smile.

(Suguru’s hair has been getting a little longer recently. You make a mental note to offer to trim it when he’s back.)

“Yeah, well,” he exhales the words, quiet, almost absent. He’s always some place far off these days, his thoughts drifting to where you can’t follow.

Do you come here out of habit? is what you want to ask. Am I still the last thing you want to see? But you bite your tongue, because now’s not the right time, and it never is. You’re good at that – at holding back what you really want to say – because there’s something more important you want to keep holding onto despite how determined it seems to be in slipping out of your grasp.

Him.

He's the faint glow of moonlight on your palm. He's the passing comet in the sky. Like most beautiful things; never yours to keep.  

“Suguru, I–” 

You stop yourself quickly.

There are three words that have been rising in your throat more and more lately – though they feel so heavy you wish they’d sink instead. You thought they might have come out that night on the roof, wind in your hair and his lips on your neck. When your fingers tangled in his hair, and he held you close to his chest.

Three words. You’ve felt this way for a long time before you even knew the name for it. Then, for months, you've been carrying them locked tight behind your teeth. Although in their place, you’ve spoken a hundred other things that hold the same weight. Slipped them into other sentences, buried them in the gentle caress of your face in the crook of his neck.

It shouldn't be this hard, but the longer you go on carrying this open secret in a clenched fist, the more it binds to your flesh – a truth you can’t release without breaking some part of you open the process.  

And you think – Suguru has his own three words, too. The kind he keeps folded into the gentle press of his mouth against yours, woven into lingering touches and shared nights together where neither of you say what you mean, but you both understand all the same.

But now in the stillness of your dorm room and the howling of the wind outside your window, you find the words almost slipping out again. Urgent, clawing their way out of your throat with a certain kind of desperation.

“Hm?” Another kiss. Soft, tender, against your lips. He tastes like mint and the heaviness of running from something that runs through his very veins. “What is it?”

Tell him.

Tell him now.

Not now, you reason back. This is the last thing he needs to hear before a mission.

“Nothing.” you say lightly. “Come back soon.”

After.

I’ll tell him after.

(You never got your chance.)

a/n: firstly, i am very sorry. secondly, this scene is actually an extension of one of the flashbacks that happen in this fic i wrote (and it ends happily for them)