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creamflix · 8 days ago

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IF I WAS A BAD BITCH, I'D WANNA F★CK ME TOO! ၄၃ gojo satoru x female reader x (female?!) gojo satoru

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. established relationship. threesome featuring m & f gojo. dom! gojo(s), sub reader. bisexual reader. slight cnc/dubcon. marathon sex. fingering. voyeurism + cucking. spanking. humping. finger-sucking. the big three: praise, humiliation and degradation. jealousy-fueled and dare i say competitive sex. oral (f. giving & receiving, m. giving and receiving). p in v, creampies. hair-pulling. clit slapping. overstimulation, mind break. doggy (backshots woohoo!), chain link, tower bridge. lots of aftercare and a happy + crack ending (thank you flix)

happy (early) birthday to the honoured dick one. the strongest in bed. i know his birthday is in december but i needed u all to read this right now. so enjoy nine thousand three hundered words of filth, from me to you, with all the love possible <3. i wrote female gojo with @/owwllly's version in mind, so please show them your love xx this has been my fav threesome fic to write!! dedicated to my pookie daph aka @curtins - there will be a part two !! there will be a part two !! there will be a part two !!

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 ☆ series masterlist

"so you're telling me... this happened because you couldn’t mind your business?" you deadpan, arms crossed as you stare at two very identical gojo satoru’s in your living room. one of them is busy fiddling with infinity while the other is lounging on your couch like she owns the place — wolfcut, tight black turtleneck, and a smirk that could rival the original's arrogance.

“technically, i was minding my business,” the og gojo protests, leaning back against the wall with his usual, unbothered grin. “baby, ’s not my fault the curse decided to spice things up and give you, like, a bogo deal on me. you're welcome, by the way."

"bogo?" you repeat, staring at him blankly. "buy one, get one? 'toru, this isn’t a trip to the mall — this is a problem."

“problem?!” the female gojo pipes up, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “babe, this is a blessing. look at me — don’t i just scream perfection?” she runs her hands dramatically down her torso, pausing to cup her very impressive pair of tits. “and these? way better than whatever he’s working with.”

“hey!” the og gojo snaps, looking genuinely offended for once. “my pecs are great! they’re sculpted by gods!”

“oh please.” she waves him off, smirking. “you can bench press all ya want, but nothin' competes with these.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing. “great. now there’s two of you and you’re already competing with each other. this is exactly what my therapist warned me about.”

"your therapist doesn’t even know her," og gojo interjects, before muttering, "probably thinks i'm better."

“knows me?” the female gojo raises a brow, mimicking his exact tone. “honey, i am you — just hotter and with better hair.”

“oh, please, my hair is iconic —”

“only ‘cuz i have it now —”

“okay, shut up, both of you,” you groan, cutting through their bickering. “are we just ignoring the fact that this situation is insane? one of you is going to have to fix this. preferably him,” you gesture to your boyfriend, “because i’m sure as hell not trusting the version of you who discovered boobs for the first time an hour ago.”

"that’s fair,” female gojo shrugs. “i got distracted for a good ten minutes.”

“ten?” og gojo snorts. “please, i bet you’re still distracted.”

“better than looking like an overgrown snow cone —”

“that’s it!” you snap, cutting them off again. “you’re both sleeping on the floor until this gets fixed!”

they stare at you, identical smirks creeping onto their faces. the synchronization is downright creepy.

“what?” you snap.

“you mean we can’t sleep next to you?” female gojo teases, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “oh, baabbyy, don’t be like that. we’ll make it work. one on each side, warm and cozy…”

“dream on!” you yell, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at both of them.

despite your protests, you eventually settle into bed, burying yourself under the covers in hopes that sleep will somehow make this bizarre situation feel a little less insane in the morning. your boyfriend is sulking on the couch — he’s got that kicked puppy look down to a science, complete with dramatic sighs and pointed glances your way every time he fluffs the pillow. you ignore him. you deserve this break.

or at least, you thought you did.

the bed dips behind you, and you freeze, already knowing who it is before she even opens her mouth.

“hey,” female gojo whispers conspiratorially, her voice a softer, almost sultry version of your boyfriend’s usual annoying tone. “girl’s night, right? let’s talk about feelings and, like… skincare or whatever. isn’t that what girls do?”

“go back to the couch,” you mutter, trying not to sound as mortified as you feel.

“oh, come onnn,” she presses, shifting closer. “i’m technically you now. you, me, and him — we’re a team. solidarity and alla that.”

“team or not, you’re still satoru,” you grumble, rolling over to glare at her. “and you’re supposed to be fixing this, not playing barbie dreamhouse with my sanity.”

she gasps, clutching her chest as though you’d just gravely insulted her. “barbie dreamhouse? wow, honey, that’s just rude.”

you sigh, already exhausted, and roll back over, resolutely closing your eyes. “goodnight.”

except she doesn’t leave.

instead, she shuffles even closer, slipping under the covers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“what the hell are you doing?” you ask, voice muffled by your pillow.

“it’s called cuddling. girlhood, babe. embrace it.”

you groan, but it’s drowned out by the warmth of her pressing against your back, her arm draping over your waist like she’s done this a hundred times before. the touch is familiar — too familiar — but also distinctly… different. softer, almost delicate, but with that same satoru confidence you’ve grown used to.

you’re about to relax when — oh.

oh no.

that’s definitely her tits pressing against you.

“seriously?” you mutter, feeling your face heat up as you shift uncomfortably.

“what?” she hums innocently, though you can practically hear the smirk in her tone. “they’re natural, by the way. in case you were wondering.”

you roll your eyes so hard they might fall out of your head. “get off me.”

“nah. you’re comfy.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you love it,” she whispers, cuddling closer, her breath warm against the back of your neck.

meanwhile, from the couch, your boyfriend groans dramatically. “wooww, guess i’m not needed anymore! don’t mind me, just a lonely man being replaced by his better half!”

you groan louder this time, burying your face in the pillow. “i hate both of you.”

“you’ll get over it,” female gojo chirps.

you’re not so sure.

you drift into a restless sleep, but it’s not long before something — someone — pulls you back into a groggy haze. at first, you think it’s just the weight of her arm slung over your waist, the kind of innocent touch you’ve grown used to from satoru, only now softer, smaller.

but then you feel it: nimble fingers ghosting the waistband of your shorts, brushing against your skin with maddening lightness.

your eyes snap open, and before you can twist around, you hear her chuckle — a low, almost predatory sound.

"eaasy, babe," she whispers, her breath hot against your ear as she burrows closer, her chest flush against your back. "don’t wanna wake him, do you?"

your heart skips a beat, half from the sensation of her lips brushing the shell of your ear, half from the realization that your boyfriend is right down the hallway.

“what the hell are you doing?” you hiss, your voice barely audible, but it only makes her grin wider. you can’t see it, but you can feel it in the way her teeth graze your neck, her nose nuzzling against your skin.

“just havin’ a little fun,” she murmurs, her fingers dipping slightly lower, teasing. "you’re sooo uptight. ’s cute."

“stop,” you whisper, though your voice lacks the conviction you wish it had. you’re painfully aware of every point of contact — her fingers, her chest pressed against you, the way her legs tangle with yours like she’s been doing this forever.

“oh, come on,” she purrs, lips trailing a featherlight path up your neck. “you can pretend to hate this allll ya want, but she’s kinda telling a different story, babe.”

your breath catches as her fingers toy with the waistband of your panties, and you bite your lip to stifle a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

“shhhhh,” she teases, her voice dripping with amusement. “don’t wanna wake him. imagine the tantrum he’d throw.”

“'toru,” you snap in a whisper, barely managing to keep your voice steady, “you’re impossible.”

“she is impossible,” she corrects smugly, emphasizing the distinction. ��and you love it.”

you squirm, trying to shift away, but it only earns you a low chuckle and a firmer hold around your waist.

“relax,” she coos, her fingers retreating just enough to drive you insane. “’m just here to keep ya company. whether that means getting a rise out of you or, y’know... edgin’ this pretty lil’ pussy for the rest of the night? your call.”

you swallow hard, caught between indignation and the way her touch sets your nerves on fire.

“make your choice, babe,” she whispers, her voice playful but laced with a dangerous edge.

“just try not to moan too loud. wouldn’t wanna give him ideas.”

you close your eyes, torn between cursing her and praying she doesn’t stop.

this night just got so much longer.

your brain is waging the ultimate war, a full-on battlefield of ethics versus… whatever this situation even is.

is it cheating if it’s your boyfriend’s hot female counterpart? technically, it’s still satoru, right? like, some weird multiverse loophole you could maybe rationalize later when guilt comes knocking.

but right now, the only thing knocking is your resolve, which is hanging by a thread as those nimble fingers dance along your clothed slit, teasing just enough to drive you to madness.

you bite down on your lip, a mix of frustration and need building as she leans in closer, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "you’re thinkin’ so loud, honey. wanna share with the class?”

“shut up,” you hiss, squirming as her fingers dip a little lower, just brushing the edge of your clothed clit.

she laughs softly, the sound rich and teasing, as if she’s enjoying how much you’re struggling. “ohhh, ya gonna give in, aren’t cha?” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “ya so cute when you’re pretending to resist.”

your breathing hitches as she presses her palm against your clothed cunt, her fingers tracing delicate, torturous circles. it’s enough to make you curse the heavens for whatever cursed logic landed you here but also enough to make you moan softly despite yourself.

“fuck it,” you mutter under your breath, the words more to yourself than to her, and you stop fighting, letting her fingers dip inside your panties.

her grin is unmistakable — so much like satoru’s but with an edge of mischief that’s uniquely her own. “there she is,” she whispers, and her fingers find your clit, circling it with the kind of precision that makes your whole body tense.

“jesus christ,” you gasp, your hand shooting out to grip the sheets as she keeps her pace slow, deliberate, almost cruel in its teasing.

“nah,” she chuckles, her lips brushing against your neck, “just satoru. but you can scream my name later if ya want.”

you stifle a groan, your mind racing between indignation and the hot, electric sensation pooling low in your stomach.

“careful,” she teases, voice low and smug. “wouldn’t wanna wake him, would you? unless…” she pauses, fingers pressing a little harder, “...you want him to watch.”

you choke on a mix of a gasp and a protest, twisting slightly to glare at her, but the sharp look you’re going for is lost in the haze of heat clouding your brain.

“you’re the worst,” you manage to whisper, though it lacks any real bite.

“and yet, here you are,” she hums, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. “enjoying every second of it.”

she’s not wrong, and that realization alone might kill you.

you never thought you’d find yourself in a situation like this — not that you were opposed to the idea. women were great, truly a gift to the world.

but how many people could say they were being finger fucked by their boyfriend’s female counterpart? it was such a specific, cursedly unique predicament that you almost wanted to laugh.

almost.

if you weren’t too busy biting back a moan as her fingers worked you with an infuriating rhythm.

the obscene sounds were soft, but in the quiet of the room, they echoed like a symphony of sins you’d be reckoning with later. and when her other hand pressed against your lips, fingers tapping lightly, you didn’t even hesitate.

you took them into your mouth, sucking with enough fervor to have her humming appreciatively behind you.

“oh, you’re full of surprises,” she purred, her tone dripping with amusement. her nails — surprisingly manicured and oddly elegant — scraped against your tongue, and you felt a shiver crawl down your spine. “never took ya for someone with an oral fixation. should i be jealous of him?”

you glared up at her weakly, but it only made her grin grow wider.

“no need to get all pouty, baby,” she teased, pulling her hand away with a wet pop! before dragging her nails down the side of your face in mock affection. “you’re already givin' me plenty of attention.”

“you’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, your voice muffled by a moan as her fingers curled inside you just right, hitting a spot that made your legs tremble.

“and yet, here you are,” she countered smugly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “suckin' my fingers like you’re starved for it. but don’t worry pretty, i’ve got plenty to give.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, torn between mortification and the unbearable heat flooding your veins.

“close enough,” she chuckled, her lips brushing against your ear as her fingers continued their relentless, torturous pace. “but you can scream that louder later. just remember to keep it down for him, yeah? wouldn’t wanna give him a heart attack.”

as if on cue, you heard your boyfriend shift on the couch down the hallway, groaning in his sleep.

her grin pressed against your skin, smug as ever. “looks like we’re on a time limit. better make it count, babe.”

it’s almost like she wants to be caught.

you can feel it in the deliberate pace of her fingers, the smug curl of her lips pressed against your ear, and the way her voice dips just low enough to make you think she’s daring him to walk in.

what’s he gonna do, anyway? accuse you of cheating? on him?

with him?

the thought’s absurd, hilarious even, if not for the way your brain is too scrambled to dwell on it.

“you’re so tense,” she purrs, her tone that perfect mix of teasing and filth, her fingers quickening their pace with a precision that’s downright sinful. “relax, ma. you’re doing so well f’me.”

“sh-shut up,” you hiss, though it lacks conviction, your voice shaky and edged with desperation. the familiar, blinding heat in your stomach coils tighter, threatening to snap as her movements grow more deliberate.

but she doesn’t shut up — of course, she doesn’t.

“awww, don’t get shy on me now,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear as her lips ghost along your jawline. her words spill out like poison dipped in honey, filthy and deliberate.

“you’re sooo close, aren’t ya? can feel it, babe. you’re twitching around my fingers. think you’ll cum before he wakes up?”

you choke on a whimper, your head spinning as her words sink deep into your hazy mind. the wet, obscene shlick, shlick sounds of her fingers working you only makes it worse, the sound bouncing off the walls and mocking any remaining shred of dignity you have left.

“don’t fight it,” she coos, nipping lightly at your earlobe. “you wanna cum sooo bad. just do it, babe. be a good girl for me.”

the knot in your stomach pulls impossibly tight, her voice the final push as she angles her fingers just right, and you’re gone.

you tremble, your hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline as your release crashes through you in waves so intense that you’re outright whimpering. the sound spills out before you can bite it back, and she takes full advantage, her fingers slowing just enough to draw it out, prolonging your undoing.

“thaaat’s it,” she hums, satisfaction dripping from her voice. “good girl.”

you gasp for air, your body slack against hers as she finally pulls her hand away, leaving you boneless and dazed.

“see?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, her tone still annoyingly smug. “told ya'd like it.”

before you can snap back, you hear a groan from the hallway — your boyfriend stirring on the couch.

“oops,” she whispers, her voice featherlight but laced with mischief as she leans closer to your ear. “think he heard that?”

⋆˙⟡ —

gojo was not having it.

being sentenced to the couch while he — or she — got to hog your warmth? outrageous.

what kind of half-assed excuse was "girl’s night" anyway? he was the epitome of versatility! gender fluidity incarnate! hell, he’d rock a pair of heels better than most and still kick ass.

he rolled onto his back with a huff, staring at the ceiling and debating his next move.

screw it. he wasn’t about to let himself — herself — win. this was his girlfriend, damn it.

with a frustrated groan, he dragged himself off the couch, trudging down the hallway. barefoot and irritated, he rehearsed what he’d say as he barged in, fully intent on dragging her ass out and reclaiming his rightful spot in your bed.

but the second he opened the door, all those thoughts evaporated.

his jaw dropped, his cerulean eyes widening behind the curtain of his disheveled hair.

there you were, his sweet, pliant girlfriend, lying there with your head tilted back, cheeks flushed, and lips wrapped around fem gojo’s fingers.

and the smell — fuck, the smell of you hung thick in the air, so sweet and heady it made his knees damn near buckle. it hit him like a freight train, and with it came a mix of emotions he couldn’t even begin to untangle: shock, irritation, a twinge of jealousy, and, much to his own annoyance, arousal.

“are you serious right now?” his voice rang out, low and sharp, cutting through the quiet of the room.

you froze, your eyes snapping open as you turned to look at him. fem gojo, on the other hand, smirked, her fingers lazily slipping out of your mouth with an exaggerated pop!

“oh, hey,” she drawled, utterly unbothered by his presence. “took ya long enough.”

“what the hell is this?” he gestured vaguely at the two of you, his gaze bouncing between your guilty expression and her smug one.

“girl’s night,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone so casual it made his eye twitch.

“girl’s night?” he repeated, his voice climbing an octave. “girl’s night doesn’t include —” he waved his hands, “ —whatever this is!”

“reelaxx, dude,” she cooed, sitting up slightly but still keeping one possessive hand on your thigh. “you’re overreacting.”

“overreacting?!”

you flinched at his tone, but she didn’t budge, only grinning wider.

“jealous, are we?” she teased, leaning back into the pillows like she owned the place. “don’t worry, there’s plenty of her to go around.”

his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “you think this is funny?”

“a little,” she admitted, cocking her head. “but it’s fun when you’re mad.”

he stormed over to the bed, yanking the covers off with dramatic flair.

“get out,” he demanded, pointing toward the door.

“make me,” she challenged, her grin growing downright wicked.

oh, that was it.

“fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “you wanna play games? let’s play.”

in one swift motion, he was crawling onto the bed, caging both of you in with his presence. his gaze flicked to you, burning and possessive, before turning back to her.

“you started this,” he growled, “so you better keep up.”

she raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “oh, i’ll keep up.”

you swallowed hard, caught between their clashing egos and the growing heat simmering between the three of you.

this was about to get very interesting.

his hand clamps around your neck before you can even register what’s happening, yanking you into his lap like you weigh nothing. the surprised squeal that escapes your lips is muffled instantly as his mouth crashes onto yours in a kiss so sloppy, so overwhelming, it leaves you gasping. his tongue dominates yours, hot and unrelenting, and you barely have time to catch your breath before he pulls away, his next words like a slap to your dignity.

“you’re such a fuckin' mess,” he growls, his free hand coming down sharply on your ass with a loud smack!, the sting sends a jolt through you, and your body involuntarily arches against him. “lettin' her get her hands allll over you like a desperate little slut.”

you whimper, the sound earning a low, derisive laugh from him as he lands another smack!, his hand squeezing the soft flesh just to watch it jiggle.

“you like that, huh?” he sneers, his grip tightening around your neck just enough to make your head spin. “bet you’re fuckin' soaked, aren’t cha? letting anyone who’ll touch you have a go. pathetic.”

“not anyone,” fem gojo pipes up from her spot on the bed, her voice laced with amusement. “just me. well, technically you. so you’ve only got yourself to blame, babe.”

he shoots her a glare, his lips curling into a snarl, but she doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. in fact, she looks downright entertained, one hand lazily palming her tits through her shirt, her grin smug as she watches the scene unfold.

“don’t mind me,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “’m just enjoyin' the view. gotta say, though, you’ve got good taste.”

you shudder at the low hum in her voice, your face burning as her gaze flicks to where your body presses against his, her smirk deepening.

“shut up,” he snaps, his hand sliding down to your hip to yank you harder against him. “this is my show now.”

“oh, by all means,” she chuckles, leaning back on her elbows as her fingers toy her nipples. “don’t let me stop you. though, technically, this is still me giving her what she wants.”

he growls, his grip on you tightening as he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes narrowing. “you’re mine,” he hisses, the words like a brand against your skin. “doesn’t matter what fucking form i’m in. you get that?”

you nod weakly, your body trembling as his other hand lands another sharp smack! to your ass, drawing a coo of delight from his female counterpart.

“good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours before claiming them again, rough and punishing.

“now, let’s see if you can prove it.”

“oh, this is getting good,” fem gojo says with a delighted laugh, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she settles in to watch the show — completely unbothered and clearly relishing every second of it.

⋆˙⟡ —

you’re losing it. outright losing it.

it was bad enough when gojo insisted on doing you in front of the mirror, forcing you to watch as he destroyed every last shred of your dignity.

but this? this was next level.

having someone else watch — and not just anyone, but the female version of him, sitting there with that same smug smirk plastered across her face as she enjoyed the show — this wasn’t on your bingo card for the year.

and yet, you couldn’t lie to yourself. the heat pooling between your legs was unmistakable, your slick soaking through the fabric of your panties and seeping onto his clothed crotch. the mess you were making was evident, each grind against him creating an obscene wet sound that seemed to echo in the room.

“oh, babe,” fem gojo moaned, her head tilting back as her hands finally slid under her shirt, teasing the plush swell of her chest. “are ya sure you’re not doin' this f'me? ‘cause this is better than any mirror show.”

“shut it,” male gojo snapped, his lips pulling away from yours, a string of spit connecting you as he shot her a glare. “you’re lucky i haven’t kicked your ass out yet.”

“please,” she purred, rolling her nipples between her fingers with a soft moan, her smirk growing wider. “you’re not kicking me out of anything. besides —” her gaze flicked to you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, “ — she doesn’t seem to mind me being here. do you, pretty?”

you whimpered, the humiliation and arousal swirling together in a heady cocktail that made it impossible to think straight.

“answer her,” male gojo growled, his hand sliding down to grab your ass, forcing you to grind harder against him. “or are you too dumb to use your words?”

“i — i —” your voice broke into a soft moan, your hands clutching his shoulders for support as you buried your face in his neck, unable to meet her eyes.

“look at you,” she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. “such a good girl, falling apart like that. and here i thought you were the composed one.”

“don’t get used to it,” male gojo bit out, yanking you back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark and commanding. “you’re mine, got it? doesn’t matter if it’s her or me watching. you’re still only ever gonna fall apart for me.”

“you’re so possessive,” fem gojo teased, her voice laced with mockery as her hands continued their lazy exploration under her shirt. “'s cute, honestly. but you can’t deny it’s a little hot watching her fall apart like that.”

“you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he snapped, but the irritation in his voice was edged with something else, something darker, like her words were getting to him too.

“oh, i know when,” she said with a sultry grin, her fingers tweaking her nipples with a sharp intake of breath. “but where’s the fun in that?”

you gasped as his hips jerked up against you, the friction sending another wave of heat through your already overstimulated body.

“don’t get any ideas,” he growled, his attention snapping back to you, his grip tightening on your hips. “you’re not done until i say you are.”

“god,” fem gojo moaned softly, her hands sliding down her cunt as she watched you both. “if this is how you treat her in front of me, i can’t imagine what you’re like when you’ve got her all to yourself.”

her words only seemed to spur him on, his lips crashing into yours again, his teeth nipping at your lower lip before he pulled away just enough to whisper against your mouth.

“don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “we’ll make sure she knows exactly what it feels like to belong to both of us.”

the promise in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and the look in fem gojo’s eyes made it clear she had no intention of being a passive observer for long.

clothes hit the floor — or in your case, were outright shredded by your boyfriend’s impatient hands. the sound of ripping fabric and your startled gasp barely registered over the muffled curses coming from fem gojo, who was too distracted fumbling with her own shirt, her needy arousal making her hands clumsy.

“damn it,” she muttered under her breath, finally managing to toss her shirt aside. “you’d think i’d be good at undressing myself by now.”

“could’ve fooled me,” male gojo quipped with a sharp grin, not even glancing her way as he manhandled you into position. “i could’ve stripped you in two seconds flat.”

“yeah, yeah,” she shot back, rolling her eyes as her shorts hit the floor. “maybe i wanted to take my time.”

he didn’t reply. instead, his hands clamped down on your waist, and before you could even process what was happening, you found yourself being flung off his lap. you landed on your stomach, a surprised cry escaping your lips as your face ended up inches away from fem gojo’s already glistening cunt.

the sweet, heady scent of her arousal flooded your senses, making your head spin.

“oh?” she cooed, leaning back on her elbows and spreading her legs a little wider, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “is this your way of apologizing? putting her in prime position f'me?”

“shut up,” male gojo snapped, his voice sharp as his hands gripped your hips again, pulling them up so your ass was in the air. “she’s here to learn who she belongs to.”

“sure,” fem gojo said, clearly unconvinced as her fingers trailed teasingly along the inside of her thighs. “and if she just so happens to learn how to make me feel good in the process, well, that’s just a bonus, hm?”

you whimpered, your mind spinning as you tried to ground yourself, but the sharp snap of your boyfriend’s hips against you derailed every coherent thought.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” he hissed, his pace unrelenting as he pounded into you from behind. “ya so quiet now. where’s all that pretty whinin' you were doing earlier?”

“h-her mouth’s busy,” fem gojo chimed in with a laugh, her hand sliding into your hair to guide your face closer to her. “or at least, it should be. come on, ma. show me what ya got.”

you hesitated, your face burning with a mix of humiliation and arousal, but a sharp smack! on your ass from male gojo left you gasping.

“don’t keep her waiting,” he growled, jealousy dripping from every word as his nails dug into your skin. “you were so eager to let her touch you before. let’s see how you like being used.”

“god,” fem gojo moaned softly as your tongue tentatively flicked over her slick folds, the taste of her flooding your senses. “she’s so good, isn’t she?”

he scoffed, his thrusts growing harsher, each one making your body jolt forward against her. “she’s good because i made her that way,” he bit out, his voice low and possessive. “don’t forget who she comes back to every night.”

“we’ll see about that,” she teased, her fingers tightening in your hair as her hips rolled against your mouth. “if she keeps this up, she might be spending a few more nights with me instead.”

“over my dead body,” he snarled, his hand reaching around to toy with your clit, the rough circles of his fingers sending shockwaves through your body.

you whimpered against her, the vibrations drawing a shuddering gasp from her lips.

“oh, fuck,” she moaned, her head tilting back as her free hand slid up to tweak her nipple. “you’re gonna make me cum, babe. keep goin' —don’t stop.”

male gojo’s hand tightened on your hip, his rhythm faltering slightly as he let out a low, guttural growl.

“she’s not coming for you,” he spat, leaning down until his chest was flush against your back, his breath hot against your ear. “she’s coming because of me.”

“whatever you need to tell yourself,” fem gojo panted, her voice laced with amusement and ecstasy as her hips bucked against your face. “but we both know who she’s really falling apart for right now.”

your thoughts were spiraling. absolutely spiraling.

how the hell were you supposed to explain this?

my boyfriend’s giving me the most insane backshots of my life while i’m eating out the female version of him.

except… she wasn’t just “him” anymore. she was her, right? so does that make her your girlfriend? was it cheating? was it some weird alternate-universe poly thing?

“ugh, no time to think,” you muttered under your breath, your words muffled as you dragged your tongue along fem gojo’s slit.

“what’s that, sweetheart?” fem gojo purred, her hand tightening in your hair as her thighs quivered under your grip. “don’t stop on my account. you’re doing so good.”

“oh, don’t stroke her ego,” male gojo snapped, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust that had your entire body jolting forward, your face pressing impossibly closer to fem gojo’s dripping cunt. “she’s not that good yet.”

“jealous much?” fem gojo teased, her voice lilting and smug as she rolled her hips against your mouth. “she’s got me riiight on the edge, babe. maybe you should let her focus instead of barking orders like you’re the only one who matters here.”

“focus?” he sneered, leaning down until his chest was pressed against your back, his breath hot against your ear. “she’s too busy falling apart to focus. look at her — her hands are shaking.”

you whimpered at his words, your hands trembling as you tried your best to keep fem gojo’s thighs spread wide.

“awwww, baby,” she cooed, her fingers stroking your hair gently, a stark contrast to the vulgar praise spilling from her lips. “don’t listen to him. you’re doing amazing. so eager, so pliant — just like i knew you’d be.”

“pliant, huh?” male gojo growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “is that what you think this is? you think she’s here for you?”

“she’s here for both of us,” fem gojo shot back, her smirk widening as she tugged your hair, forcing you to look up at her. “right, babe? tell him how much you like making me feel good.”

you tried to answer, but the words were swallowed up by a moan as male gojo’s hand snaked around to rub tight, merciless circles against your clit.

“she doesn’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low and dark, laced with jealousy. “her body’s doing allll the talkin'. look at the mess she’s making.”

“maybe that’s because you’re being so rough,” fem gojo said, rolling her eyes even as her thighs trembled against your face.

“or maybe —” her voice dropped, dripping with faux sweetness as her smirk turned wicked, “ — it’s 'cause she likes me better.”

that set him off.

with a low, guttural growl, he pulled you back sharply, forcing you to arch against him as he slammed into you with a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“say it,” he demanded, his voice rough as his fingers dug into your hips. “tell her who you belong to.”

“oh, don’t make her choose,” fem gojo said, her tone mockingly sweet. “she’s doin' so well for both of us. aren’t cha, babe?”

you whimpered, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form a coherent response, and she laughed, low and sultry, her fingers sliding along your jaw to tilt your slick-covered face up.

“poor thing,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “don’t worry. you don’t have to pick. we’ll just take turns.”

male gojo’s hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to meet his blazing gaze.

“no,” he growled, his jealousy boiling over as his hips snapped against yours. “she’s mine.”

“ours,” fem gojo corrected, her voice smug as she ran her tongue along your flushed cheek, laughing when he snarled in response.

“dream on,” he spat, his possessiveness evident in every word, every movement, every sharp thrust.

and you? you were somewhere in the middle of it all, lost in the overwhelming heat of them, the push and pull of their jealousy, their praise, their relentless need to claim you.

⋆˙⟡ —

the room at two in the morning was a symphony of chaos and filth, the soundtrack of your life choices. gojo’s low muttering against his breath, some mix of cocky praise and jealous snarling, occasionally punctuated with a sharp smack! to your ass. your muffled whimpers and gasps as your face stayed buried between fem gojo’s legs, and her breathy, high-pitched praises as she tugged on your hair like she owned you.

“thaaat’s it, babe,” fem gojo cooed, her fingers tightening in your hair. “s'good f'me, aren’t cha? suuccch a good girl.”

wait, hold on. fem gojo pulling your hair? wasn’t that supposed to be a boyfriend gojo thing?

before your brain could unravel that disturbing yet arousing conundrum, she yanked hard, pulling your face impossibly closer. your nose pressed rudely against her clit, and the sudden pressure had her legs trembling around your head.

“oh — fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whimpered, her usually smug voice cracking as her hips bucked involuntarily.

and then it happened.

you barely had time to process her thighs clamping down around your ears, muffling everything but the obscene sounds of her unraveling. warm liquid gushed against your lips, your chin, even dribbling down your neck, as fem gojo outright squirted.

“oh my god,” you thought, frozen in shock even as your boyfriend’s hips snapped sharply into yours again, jarring you forward for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

“holy shit,” male gojo muttered, his voice equal parts awe and irritation as he caught sight of his counterpart’s unrestrained climax. “you fuckin' squirted? that’s my thing!”

fem gojo, still coming down from her high, let out a breathless laugh, her legs falling limp as she sprawled back on the bed.

“looks like your girl’s a fast learner,” she teased, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

“learner, my ass,” he shot back, a sharp thrust making you moan against fem gojo’s overstimulated folds. “i trained her to be this good.”

“uh-huh,” fem gojo drawled lazily, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. “then why’d she just make me squirt first? sounds like she’s got a natural talent you couldn’t teach.”

“shut up,” he growled, his pace picking up as he slammed into you harder, clearly trying to reassert dominance.

you, meanwhile, were somewhere between mortification and pride.

first time eating someone out, and they squirted. that was definitely going on the mental highlight reel of your life — even if it was your boyfriend’s female counterpart.

you figured you might as well keep going with fem gojo. after all, your boyfriend had the stamina of a goddamn bull and a petty streak longer than your to-do list. no way he was letting you off easy after everything tonight.

lucky you, though — he’d also trained you well enough to cum at the same time as him. how lovely.

…ignoring the fact that your current position was utterly humiliating. your back arched up so prettily, your face now smooshed between fem gojo’s outrageously, illegally hot rack.

“suck,” she demanded, her voice dripping with the same playful authority you usually heard from your boyfriend, but with a distinctly feminine lilt that had you shivering.

“oh, don’t act like you’re in charge,” gojo snapped from behind you, his thrusts growing sharper as if to punctuate his annoyance. “you’re just here for the ride.”

“and you’re here throwing a tantrum,” fem gojo shot back, her smirk evident in her tone as her hands pressed you deeper into her chest. “you’re the one that left her unsupervised.”

you barely registered their bickering. your head was swimming, lost in the overwhelming heat of fem gojo’s body and the relentless rhythm of your boyfriend behind you. your tongue flicked over her hardened nipple, drawing a satisfied gasp from her lips as she arched into you.

“good giirrl,” fem gojo purred, her fingers threading through your hair again, keeping your face buried against her. “you’re learning so fast.”

“don’t praise her for that!” gojo barked, his voice tinged with frustration even as he groaned, his hips snapping against yours. “she’s mine, not yours, so quit actin' like ya got a claim on her!”

“if she’s yours, then why’s she so eager to listen to me?” fem gojo teased, her breath hitching as your tongue swirled around her sensitive nipple.

“you wanna see who she listens to?” he growled, leaning over you as his hand snaked around your waist, his fingers circling your clit in quick, punishing strokes.

that did it. the tension coiling low in your stomach snapped, and you came with a muffled cry against fem gojo’s chest, your whole body trembling as pleasure washed over you.

at the same time, gojo’s hips stuttered against yours, his grip tightening as he groaned through gritted teeth, spilling into you with one last deep thrust.

the room fell silent except for your ragged breathing and fem gojo’s low chuckle as she trailed her fingers through your hair.

“aww,” she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. “looks like we both won, huh?”

“we?” gojo barked, glaring at her over your back. “you’re lucky i didn’t kick your ass out of this bed halfway through.”

“lucky?” she repeated, her smirk widening as she leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “please, babe. i’ve got her attention. you’re just here to keep things interesting.”

gojo had had enough. sure, he’d made you see stars, made you fall apart on his dick like he always did. and yeah, he’d just had his own finish, but that didn’t matter.

he was greedy. always greedy.

his icy blue eyes darted to fem gojo, still lounging smugly with that shit-eating grin plastered across her pretty face. oh, he hated seeing his own smugness reflected like that.

“alright,” he huffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair before cracking his neck. “you wanna play games? fine. hold her for me.”

“oh?” fem gojo purred, clearly intrigued, though she raised an eyebrow. “what’s this now?”

“don’t ask questions, just do it,” he snapped, his tone sharp but impatient.

to your surprise — and maybe horror — fem gojo complied, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you back against her chest, locking you in place.

“good,” gojo muttered, his gaze dropping to your already trembling body. his lips quirked into a devilish smirk as he cracked his knuckles.

“now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice saccharine and low as he leaned down to meet your wide-eyed gaze, “you’re gonna give me six more. f'good luck. for my six eyes. makes sense, right?”

“s-six?” you stammered, your voice barely audible as you squirmed in fem gojo’s hold.

“don’t pass out before number three, okay?” fem gojo chimed in, her breath tickling your ear as she pressed a playful kiss to your temple.

“oh, she won’t,” gojo assured her, his tone all cocky confidence as his fingers found your oversensitive clit, circling it slowly, almost mockingly. “i’ve trained her too well for that.”

“you’re insane,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his movements picked up, sending shockwaves through your overstimulated body.

“and you love it,” he shot back, grinning as your hips bucked involuntarily.

“she’s already shakin',” fem gojo mused, her hands holding you firmly in place as you writhed in her grip. “think she can even make it to six?”

“she’ll make it,” gojo said confidently, his fingers dipping lower to press inside you.

you let out a strangled moan, your body arching against fem gojo as she held you tighter.

“one down,” gojo teased as you convulsed around his fingers, your first orgasm ripping through you with humiliating ease.

“just five more, baby,” fem gojo cooed, brushing her lips against your ear. “think ya cunt can handle it?”

you didn’t have the breath to answer, already lost in the haze of pleasure and anticipation as gojo smirked down at you.

“don’t worry,” he murmured, sliding his fingers out only to replace them with his cock, the stretch sending your mind reeling.

“we’ve got allll night.”

⋆˙⟡ —

the first rays of the sun filtered into your room, casting soft golden streaks across the absolute battlefield that was your bed. clothes were long forgotten, scattered along with the remnants of your once-organized collection of sex toys — all strewn haphazardly on the mattress and floor, evidence of what you’d been subjected to.

but you couldn’t exactly reflect on the mess, not when your mind was lost in the fog of overstimulation.

your body dangled limply in fem gojo’s strong, steady arms, her breath warm against your ear as she held you upright. your head lolled back against her shoulder, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your boyfriend once again set a punishing rhythm with his hips.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice rough from hours of exertion but no less smug. “what number are we on now?”

you tried to answer, you really did, but all that came out was a broken, incoherent moan, your voice cracking as your legs trembled helplessly.

“what was that?” fem gojo teased, her laughter soft and melodic as she adjusted her grip on you, her fingers brushing over your slick, sweat-dampened skin. “i think she lost count. did we hit six or are we on nine?”

“definitely nine,” gojo declared, grinning as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “but she can’t keep up. guess i’ll just have to count for her.”

you whined, barely able to lift your arms, let alone argue.

“poor thing,” fem gojo cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy as her lips trailed along your neck. “bet her brain’s all mush now. aren’t ya, pretty?”

you whimpered in response, your body shuddering as another wave of pleasure surged through you, leaving you gasping and clutching at fem gojo’s arms for support.

“look at that,” your boyfriend said with a chuckle, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you closer. “she’s still got some fight in her.”

“for now,” fem gojo quipped, smirking as she nuzzled into your hair.

“but i think we’ve got her for a few more rounds before she taps out.”

“good,” gojo muttered, his pace quickening as his grin widened. “’m not done yet.”

⋆˙⟡ —

you should’ve known better. should’ve known better than to assume fem gojo would let up.

sure, she’d been lounging lazily for a while, playing her role as the smug spectator while her male counterpart relentlessly worked you over. but the thing about gojo — male or female — was that patience wasn’t exactly their virtue.

“y’know,” fem gojo began, her tone as sweet as honey but laced with mischief as she propped her chin on your shoulder, her lips brushing against your ear. “i think we should switch things up for the finale.”

“finale?” you rasped, your voice hoarse and barely audible, every muscle in your body trembling from the sheer exertion.

“yeeaah, finale,” fem gojo purred, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thighs as she glanced up at her male counterpart, who raised a curious brow. “we’ve been so focused on her. don’t you think it’s time she gives you some love, hmm?”

gojo smirked, catching on immediately. “oh? you’re suggesting somethin'?”

“just an idea,” she said with a shrug, though her grin was positively wicked. “how about she thanks you properly? y’know, with her mouth.”

your head snapped up weakly, eyes wide. “wait —”

“shhhh, sweetheart,” fem gojo cooed, pressing a finger to your lips. “’s only fair, don’t cha think? he’s worked so hard.”

“exactly,” gojo chimed in, already moving to position himself over you, his knees framing your chest as he settled on the bed. “you should thank me.”

before you could protest — or muster the energy to protest — you felt fem gojo’s hands on your thighs, spreading them apart with ease.

“and while you’re doing that,” she murmured, her breath warm against your inner thighs as she lowered herself between them, “i’ll take care of this pretty little cunt. sound good?”

you didn’t even have the chance to respond before her tongue was on you, dragging a loong, languid stripe up your soaked folds that made your back arch off the bed.

“shit,” you gasped, your hands clutching at the pillows beneath your head as your boyfriend smirked down at you.

“open up, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and commanding as he cupped your jaw, guiding you to take him into your mouth.

you whimpered, your lips parting obediently as he slid inside, the weight of him on your tongue making your eyes flutter shut.

“thaaat’s it,” he praised, his voice strained as he began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate motions. “such a good girl f'me.”

beneath him, fem gojo was working you over with the precision of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. her tongue flicked against your clit, her lips wrapping around it to suck softly before diving back down, licking and lapping at you like a woman starved.

“god, you taste so good,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against your folds as she gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place. “i could do this all day.”

your muffled moans vibrated around your boyfriend’s cock, making him groan as he tangled his fingers in your hair.

“fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back as his movements quickened. “you’re gonna make me lose it, baby.”

the combination of sensations — the weight of your boyfriend in your mouth, the relentless pace of fem gojo’s tongue — was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once again.

“don’t pass out on us now,” fem gojo teased, her voice laced with amusement as she felt you clench around nothing, your body trembling violently. “you’ve got one more in you, don’tcha, sweetheart?”

you weren’t sure how you’d survive this, but as your boyfriend’s groans grew louder and fem gojo’s ministrations became even more fervent, you realized there was no escaping it.

you were completely at their mercy, and god, you weren’t sure if you’d ever recover.

the room was chaos, pure and utter chaos. the obscene mix of sounds — gojo’s low groans, your muffled gags, and fem gojo’s pleased hums — was almost too much for your fried brain to process.

you thought you were doing pretty well, honestly. your boyfriend’s usual sarcasm and taunting remarks had been steadily replaced by breathy curses and groans of approval.

“fuck, baby,” he muttered, his hand in your hair guiding you at a steady pace. “you’re so damn good at this — shit, look at you, taking me so well —”

you felt a flicker of pride at that, the kind that came with knowing you were completely wrecking him. but fem gojo? oh, she had other plans.

“aww, don’t forget 'bout me,” she chimed, her voice dripping with amusement as she leaned down, her breath warm against your oversensitive core. “can’t have you hogging all the fun, can we?”

before you could even process her words, her hand came down, a sharp slap! landing square on your clit.

the jolt of pleasure-pain tore a strangled sound from your throat — a sound that unfortunately turned into a gag as your body jerked in surprise, taking your boyfriend deeper than you ever had before.

“holy shit,” gojo choked out, his hips snapping forward instinctively as your throat spasmed around him. “fuck fuck fuck — wait! —”

too late. the sudden sensation was too much for him to handle, and with a low, guttural groan, he came, hot and thick down your throat.

“good — hah — girl,” he panted, his grip on your hair tightening as he rode out his high, his chest heaving. “goddamn — you’re perfect.”

but you barely had time to process his words before your body betrayed you again. fem gojo had taken full advantage of your momentary distraction, her tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring you right to the edge — and then push you right over it.

“there it is,” she cooed as your thighs tensed around her head, her tongue still lapping at you eagerly. “god, you’re so pretty when you lose it.”

and lose it, you did. with a loud cry muffled by the aftermath of your boyfriend’s climax, you came, harder than you ever had before. the intense wave of pleasure ripped through you, your slick gushing out in a way that left both you and fem gojo absolutely stunned.

“well, well,” fem gojo murmured, pulling back just enough to wipe her soaked face with the back of her hand, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. “looks like we’re even now, huh?”

gojo’s dazed expression quickly turned smug as he caught his breath, his hand still tangled in your hair. “a squirt for a squirt?” he quipped, his grin sharp as he looked between the two of you. “not bad, sweetheart. i’m almost impressed.”

you groaned, your face burning as you buried it in the nearest pillow, both mortified and completely spent.

“aw, don’t get shy now,” fem gojo teased, leaning down to press a kiss to your thigh. “you did so well. maybe next time, i’ll let you return the favor properly.”

“next time?” you croaked, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“of course,” she said with a wink, already sitting up and stretching like she hadn’t just been part of the most insane night of your life. “you don’t think this is a one-time thing, do you?”

gojo groaned, flopping onto the bed beside you with a lazy grin. “oh, definitely not,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair. “you’re stuck with both of us now, babe.”

and judging by the way they both looked at you — smug, teasing, and entirely too pleased with themselves — you knew you were in for a long ride.

you were done.

like, stick-a-fork-in-you done.

lying there in a dazed mess of tangled sheets and sore limbs, your legs were trembling so hard you swore you could start a minor earthquake. you didn’t even have the strength to bat an eye as male gojo leaned over you, brushing away the strands of hair plastered to your forehead with an almost uncharacteristic tenderness.

“baby, you good?” he asked, a rare note of genuine concern lacing his voice.

“does she look good to you?” fem gojo cut in, lounging nearby with a towel draped over her shoulder. she reached for your pussy tentatively, only for you to weakly swat her hand away.

“don’t you dare.” your voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it still made her chuckle.

“relax, i’m just kidding!… mostly,” she added with a wink, settling back as male gojo shot her a glare.

“she’s off-limits right now,” he said firmly, tossing a bottle of water onto the bed. “here, drink. if she passes out, it’s your fault.”

you groaned, rolling your eyes but still accepting the water with shaky hands. “like it’s just her fault,” you mumbled, earning a sheepish grin from him.

“you’re right, babe,” he admitted, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “but, c’mon. twelve orgasms? i mean, that’s a record, right? a feat of human engineering, honestly.”

fem gojo scoffed, sitting up to stretch. “please, if i wasn’t here, she wouldn’t have made it past six. you’re welcome, by the way.”

“you’re welcome for the stamina training i gave her,” he shot back, sticking out his tongue.

“both of you, shut up,” you groaned, dragging the towel over your face. “my entire body feels like jelly, and if one of you so much as breathes near me, i’m out the window.”

“she’s spicy when she’s exhausted,” fem gojo murmured with a smirk, tossing her head back dramatically. “fine, fine. i’ll behave.”

for now.

male gojo wrapped an arm around your waist, gently pulling you against his chest as fem gojo slid in on your other side. “we’ll take care of you,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“mmm,” was all you could muster, melting into his warmth despite yourself.

“you’re amazing, y’know that?” fem gojo whispered, brushing a hand over your hair. “an absolute goddess. we’re lucky to have you.”

you snorted weakly. “oh, now you’re sweet.”

“only ‘cause you look like you’ve been through a war,” she teased.

male gojo tightened his hold on you, his voice softening. “but seriously, babe. if we went too far —”

“you think?” you interrupted, cracking open one eye to glare at him.

“okay, fair. but we’ll make it up to you. promise.”

fem gojo hummed in agreement, already grabbing a nearby lotion bottle. “massages, snacks, cuddles. whatever you need.”

and for once, they actually seemed serious. no teasing, no ulterior motives — just two ridiculously hot versions of your boyfriend determined to take care of you.

maybe having both of them wasn’t so bad… as long as you kept fem gojo’s hands away from certain places.

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angelsheartts · 8 months ago

Text

✩‧₊˚ I HOPE NOBODY CATCH US !! .

(but i kinda hope they catch us, anyway)

#pairing : lucifer, adam, alastor, vox x gn reader

#cw: suggestive content, +18 mdni, cuss words lmao, getting caught in suggestive situations ig?? tentacles on alastors part my bad, vox likes to get caught.

#notes: guys please feel free to ask requests, i’m getting out of ideas and i don't know what you all wanna read on my blog help.

PART ll

˖ ˚ ༘✶ LUCIFER .

you both were having a pretty steamy make-out session in your hotel room at the hazbin hotel, clearly not the best idea since everyone was still at the hotel, and HELL does lucifer gets loud.

"ah-, my love, " he whines loudly, pressing his forked tongue deep inside you. feeling him humping against your bedsheets as you wrap your legs around his neck, you knew he was close. "lucifer, you make me feel so gooood~" you moaned, grabbing his horns as you felt like your orgasm was soon to come.

well, nobody warned you how SENSITIVE this man was when someone touched his horns; his wings literally popped out in a second. "fuck, fuck, i’m so close (name); can i cum, honey ? please i-"

a door opened, making lucifer wrap his wings around you both. "(name), i heard some noises. is everything alri-" well, this was akward. "IMSOSORRYISHOULDHAVEKNOCKED" she said, embarrased, closing the door, leaving you and lucifer with a flushed red since you both literally got caught, by HIS daughter WHILE having an orgasm.

after that 'accident' charlie started knocking every time she entered your dorm, and apologised to you many times.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ ADAM .

adam can be very tiring sometimes when keeping his hands to himself, he would literally fuck you anywhere so everyone could see who makes you feel so fucking good if you would just let him, but of course you wouldn’t allow something like that.

except for today, you and adam had a meeting with the other angels so you wouldn’t have guessed that your husband had already been planning on how to convince you to do not-so-holy-things to skip the meeting.

until, you started noticing how touchy he was getting with you, at the beginning it was a playfully kiss on your neck then a slap in you ass and somehow you ended up giving him a blowjob.

"you’re so hot when you shut the fuck up" he said, smirking while gripping your hair tightly to make you go deeper. "fucking bitch, sucking it while having you on your knees, as you fucking should 'cause im the original dick, babe!" letting him talk to you like that reeallyy turned him on, just the thought of you being so obedient to him makes him want to cum.

"what the fuck" a voice made you both turn, noticing a lute with a very disgusted look in her face cursing at you both for being so reckless.

sadly this wasn’t the first time lute walked in on you both, so she just left LMAO.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ ALASTOR .

alastor tries to have the least amount of physical contact during such activities, so it wasn’t a rare occasion for you to finger yourself, while listening to his voice telling you what to do.

you didn’t really know if it was because you were bored, or you were just horny, but you had the urge to have some intimacy with alastor. he didn’t mind because it had been a long time since you both had some intimacy.

"you have been such a good partner, my dear” he praised, smirking widely like he always did. "I think it would only be fair if i give you something in return."

well, that was 15 minutes ago, and now here you were feeling his tentacles thrusting into you so roughly. alastor would only chuckle at your expressions while ocassionaly telling you to touch yourself as he wanted. seeing you trying to get some release made his bulge twitch inside his pants.

well, at least it made it twitch until someone interrupted you both, making your partner disappear the tentacles who were just inside you a few seconds ago.

angel dust was the one who accidentaly walked in on you both, and alastor told him if he ever talked or made jokes about what happened he would transmite his screams on his radio broadcoast. angel dust still teases you though.

˖ ˚ ༘✶ VOX .

vox actually wants you both to get caught, like he really has no shame at all. he loves fucking you if it means that you both might get caught in the act.

sadly, you can’t even recall how you ended up with him having you bend over his desk right before a meeting with the VEES.

surely, you both could have stopped if you wanted, but why would you even consider that when he’s literally vibrating just in the right spot, making you fuzzy from the overstimulation.

"fuck, yeah" your boyfriend's voice is shaky as he keeps thrusting in you, seeing how his cum rolls down your thighs, makes him increase his pace. "you really want us to get caught, don’t you, babe? squeezing me around as if i would even think about fucking pulling it out" he says chuckling with a slight glitch on his voice. "ah- vox, it’s too much i-" vox slapped your ass, making you yelp from pleasure as you were feeling so overwhelmed.

both of you being so close to your orgasm, didn’t noticed when velvette and valentino entered the room until velvette shouted at you both for fucking like animals, and not waiting until being in a more private place, alongside her was just a valentino smirking, while being dragged by velvette. valentino would have been glad to accept the offer if you would have invited him though.

#lucifer x reader #adam x reader #alastor x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer smut #adam smut #alastor smut #vox smut #hazbin hotel smut #getting caught #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. a flicker of a flame.

about. when satoru notices the flicker of cursed energy within your unborn child, he starts to feel the weight and nerves of becoming a father.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, expecting parents, reader is pregnant, hospitals, nerves about being parents, listen idk how gojo’s cursed technique works so here u go >:( canon verse, expecting father!gojo, fem!reader.

“i can see it…like…flickering inside of you.”

satoru carries an expression of intrigue, like a child who’s just discovered a new sensation.

you flip the page of your magazine, not bothering to spare your husband a glance while you instead choose to admire the many strollers and their offers that decorate the page. “don’t be weird, satoru.” you tap a perfectly manicured nail against the one you like most, leaning over to show the item to him.

“but it’s there… like actually there.” the sorcerer replies, keeping his voice low despite the loud ambience of the maternity ward’s waiting room. people crying, people celebrating, families already full of children gathering around to hear more exciting news. “i like that one. it’ll fit in the hallway too. do you want it in grey or in black?”your husband passes you a pen from the depths of your tote bag in his lap, letting you circle the stroller in the magazine so you know to come back to it.

this time, you do him the honours of looking up at him — a fresh glare settled on your glowing features. “satoru gojo please stop referring to our baby as an ‘it’.” you sigh in exhaustion, watching him slump in his seat because you know he hates it when you’re irritated with him. “i thought you were excited about having a baby girl. and the grey one, it goes with your eyes.”

that seems to perk him up enough, earning you a kiss to your cheek that has you smiling like a fool in the nurses office. “sorry, sorry…” satoru starts to coo warmly, a soft tone that’s usually reserved for you and his students. “it’s just that… every time i look at you, i see two vessels of cursed energy instead of one. there’s a flicker of a flame there, right where she would be. it’s blowing my mind.” he points to your bump, nestled away under the layer of his clothing since they’re the only thing that makes you feel comfortable right now.

you close your magazine slowly, fighting the flutter of your heart and the warmth that spreads through your body. you know that your husband is being cautious, overly observant and extremely over protective — being pregnant and having a baby in your line of work was dangerous. scary, even. but you knew that satoru wanted this with you, and you him. that he cared a little too hard or worried slightly too much because while he was the strongest, you’d become every target and every weakness to him.

you and your daughter.

an unborn child who may possibly have the powers of a god among men.

so, instead you tuck away the irritation that comes with your hormones and let your gaze slink over to the large man squished into the abnormally small seat of the waiting room — just to be by your side. “do you need me to explain how pregnancy works, satoru?” you quip and rest your head on your knuckles, just to make him laugh and ease up a little.

a wiry smile starts to tug at the corner of his soft, pink lips. “i’d rather you show me but i think we got the fun part nailed.” gojo’s face splits into a wide grin, making you roll your eyes. “we made her, yanno. she’s alive in there because you’re keeping her safe.”

“and you too, mister six eyes.” you tap his skull, brushing against pure white locks, as gojo leans over you affectionately — probably in demand for a kiss (which you give).

the receptionist calls your family name from the front desk — no doubt to call you in for your neonatal appointment. another set of scans to help confirm your little girl is nice and healthy before you tell the rest of your friends and family later today.

gojo wanted to hand out copies of your scans to everyone at dinner. show off.

but as you stand, satoru goes quiet, offering you his hand as aid. “do you think…do you want…” pressing his lips into a thin line, your husband mulls over his words whilst guiding you down the hall to the doctors office — nodding to the receptionist to thank her as you pass. “i hope she doesn’t have what i have. i wouldn’t wish this burden on anyone.” he looks you straight in the eye, blue eyes piercing your soul. you feel your baby move and kick, forcing you to wonder if she’ll have the same mind blowing eyes as her father. “i hope she’s like you. beautiful and strong and—“

“ours. she’ll be ours and the best parts of both of us. her daddy’s strength, bravery, good looks and her momma’s wits, pretty ‘get me what i want eyes’ and smarts too.” you laugh, bright and loud as you cut gojo off — turning to look at him with a happy smile. “if she turns out like that, the best parts of both of us she’ll be perfect. i’ll love her because you gave her to me, we can figure out the rest later.”

that seems to reassure satoru, who sags in relief by your side as he wraps an arm around you, his large palm splaying across your baby bump. “you’re right, you’re right,” he grins again, feeling her little feet mercilessly kick at his palm. “as long as she’s healthy, we’ll be fine. i love you.”

“we love you too.” you swoon a little too much.

satoru gojo will be a great father, you think, your baby girl is so lucky — she has the strongest daddy in the world and he loves her a little too much already.

#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru gojo x you #angelshubnetwork #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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gojorgeous · 10 months ago

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"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!”

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.

“Yeah. Long day at work.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…

“So, what’s your technique”

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.

“Bet I could find out.”

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines.

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.

Fuck.

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.

Your lips part. “You knew?”

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.

But you have one thing on him.

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”

You freeze. He notices.

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.”

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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aajjks · 10 days ago

Text

Love & War (m)

warnings: vèry lóng, híghly 18+ thèmès, èxplïcït smüt/sèx, únprótèctèd sèx, chèátíng, górè, múrdèr, prègnáncy, lônlíness, èxplïcït víölèncè, blóód, yándèrè cháràctès, bördèrlínè cóffèè àddïctïön, dàrk jüngkóók.

pairing: yandere police officer jungkook x fem!Barista reader

genre: strictly 18+ killer fic, rated M, Gore, thriller and erotica

word count: 6,000

note. My fingers have been hurting so much these days because I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to writing this. I started this draft on October 14 and now I have finally finished it today and I wanted to publish this because I have worked hard on this so much I’ve done a lot of extensive research so please guys like it and re-blog it. This is worth a read I promise please please send feedback and let me know what you think because I really need it.

•••

This case in particular is brutal.

As Jungkook sits in his office space, he’s looking at the latest crime scene pictures. And they are brutal, the man’s throat is literally spilling out, tongue cut off.

There’s so much blood.

Seodaemun-gu is particularly cold, and he’s been working overtime, as an inspector he’s been pretty busy thanks to a psychotic serial killer who’s been targeting a lot of men lately

This is the 17th victim.

Jungkooks been trying to piece the puzzle together, he picks up the warm cup of coffee and gulps down another sip, his furrows his eyebrows, he knows that it’s just one person doing all of these killings.

The pattern of killing is too similar, the gore, the marks, the method.

There is a familiar drug found in every single one of the victims bodies.

“Fuck.” He curses as he drops the pictures on the table, he needs to catch the killer before it’s too late, it is too late anyways.

October isn’t so kind this year, it is harshly cold. And this case has his whole attention. “I’ll catch you, psycho.” He mutters under his breath.

He will catch the psycho before Halloween.

Jungkooks grip on his cup tightens. He will make this killer pay. Just as he’s staring at the pictures again, his phone rings.

He sighs, averting his gaze to his phone as he picks it up, a small smile playing on his face. “Hey baby!!!” He grins speaking into the phone.

He loves his girlfriend so much. She’s the only thing that is making him happy these days.

“Hey koo!” as she greets him back, he cannot stop smiling, “ahh so are we still on for tonight?” He asks slyly, she makes him so happy.

There is a silence for a few seconds, but he waits patiently for her response, Jungkook holds the phone up his ear, waiting.

“Oh… sorry baby but no, I’m kinda busy tonight. You know this assignment is keeping me up all night. I can’t I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters.

“U-Uh..”

This is the third time.

“Umm it’s okay.” he replies, playing it cool but honestly, he’s a little upset because she’s been doing everything but spending time with him and he’s the one trying to solve a fucking murder case.

“Don’t be upset koo… I swear I’ll make it up to you.” He sighs. “It’s okay baby. I…understand.” Jungkook knows there’s no point in arguing.

He just misses her.

After talking to her for a few minutes, he finally ends the call. It’s time he refocuses on the case.

What he should be focusing on right now is catching the killer

And not the fact that his girlfriend is literally ignoring him for the past days, he’s barely seen her face this month, it’s bothering him, but he cannot afford to be distracted right now.

There cannot be an 18th victim.

He won’t let it happen.

•••

It’s lonely

But at least now he gets to go to his favorite coffee shop and drink, coffee in peace while staring out at the view, honestly speaking the view isn’t that special but jungkook likes to have some free time to himself just so he can reconnect with the world.

he enters the coffee shop, the bells above jingle as the door opens, it’s not too crowded today which is a good thing because the less the crowd the more he can focus and think.

Only a handful of people who are drinking and waiting for their orders as he approaches his table. Jungkook sits down on it, taking the chair out.

He scans the area. He likes how peaceful it is here because his job is not peaceful or neither cute, he has just come back from seeing a gruesome murder scene and this is exactly the detox He needs right now.

“Hey!!! Mr Jeon?” his snap of his thoughts when the barista calls out his name, he turns to look ahead, and smiles seeing the familiar face.

“Hey Ms yn! How’s it going? I think I’m just gonna have the regular.” He tells, looking at you, and you nod, you’re a sweet girl.

You’ve been serving him coffee for the past year almost, “well got it! Maybe I should get you some brownie too; of course courtesy of me.” You laugh, “looks like you really could use some sweetness in your life since you work so hard”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “yeah you’re right. It’s been quite bitter these days.” He mutters to himself almost.

You walk away. impatiently, he waits for his coffee.. He might have an addiction, but it’s OK. Caffeine is necessary when you’re a police officer.

Sometime later you come back with his order. And he looks at you, thanking you.. “thank you Ms yn. Appreciate you for putting up with me.” he jokes, you give him a kind smile, “oh Mr Jeon how about you Just call me yn?” You insist and he almost blushes.

“Ahhh sure sure I will but only if you call me by my first name too.” He waves his hand, picking up his coffee to take a sip, and the smell of the brownie just fills his nostrils and he hums in delight

“The brownie smells so good and this coffee is awesome. Thank you so much.”

You wink in return, which has his cheeks actually burning up

You’re bold and you’re confident and that he appreciates about you because maybe you like him a little and you don’t really make an effort to hide the fact

“Okay.. I’ll go now have fun” he watches as you go away.

And he can’t help but feel his heart flutter in his chest.

•••

A few days later, his same routine just goes on and on, but there is not a single point that he has been able to catch, which could help him actually lead to the killer

And his days are only getting worse. There’s an emptiness that he’s starting to feel. Honestly, he feels like a failure.

A failure of a boyfriend and a failure of an inspector.

Jungkook steps into his dimly lit apartment, shrugging off his rain-soaked jacket. The warmth of the place feels hollow, as if reflecting the emptiness creeping into his chest. He slumps onto the couch, running his hands through his damp hair. His mind is a mess, caught between the horrifying images of the latest crime scene, Mina’s growing distance, and the subtle comfort he finds in your quiet presence at the café.

He pulls out his phone and stares at Mina’s name in his contacts. Something in him snaps, and before he can overthink it, he presses “Call.”

It rings longer than it should.

“Hello?” Her voice is clipped, impatient.

“Mina. Can you come over?” he asks out of desperation because he so lonely, and he needs to feel her love and her warmth.

“It’s late, Jungkook. I’m busy.” he understands it. She’s been busy, but it’s been so long since he’s been with her physically and she keeps on being distant.

He’s starting to break, his face falls, and his voice hardens at her sudden coldness.

“Busy with what?” he demands, the sharpness in his voice surprising even himself. he gripped the phone tighter and waits for her response with a thumping heartbeat.

There’s a pause, long enough for unease to settle in his gut. “Work,” she finally says, but the word feels rehearsed, flat.

“Bullshit.” He stands, pacing the small living room. “You’re lying to me.” he knows that she’s lying. Does she really think that he’s that stupid?

“Excuse me?” Her tone hardens, defensive.

“You’ve been distant for weeks,” he says, his voice rising. “The late nights, the dodged questions, the way you look at me like I’m a stranger. If there’s something you’re hiding, Mina, I deserve to know.”

She exhales sharply, a sound halfway between frustration and guilt. “You’re paranoid, Jungkook. You’re always at work, always chasing some killer. Maybe the problem isn’t me—it’s you.”

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps. “You think I don’t notice the way you’re pulling away? The phone calls you don’t take around me? If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.”

Her silence cuts deeper than any words could.

“You’re impossible,” she finally says, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “You think everything revolves around you and your job, but you don’t even see what’s right in front of you. Maybe I have been distant, Jungkook, but can you blame me? You’re so wrapped up in your case that there’s no room for anything—or anyone—else.”

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “You’re deflecting. Just tell me the truth, Mina. Are you seeing someone else?”

Her sharp intake of breath tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mina,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not doing this,” she says, and the line goes dead.

Jungkook stares at his phone, his breath coming in ragged bursts. The quiet of the apartment feels suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides. He throws his phone onto the couch and grabs his keys, his mind a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and something he can’t quite name.

But for a fact, he knows that he’s lost Mina forever. And the realization dawns on him as he stares at his phone screen. He’s alone once again like he has been for a month.

But maybe this time, forever

And it doesn’t take him long to break down in his apartment. He’s so alone and maybe he will be forever. Why can nobody ever love him?

Is he not deserving of love?

•••

The coffee shop is dark except for the faint glow of a single lamp by the counter. You’re wiping down the tables, your movements unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world. The sight of you—calm, grounded—makes something in Jungkook loosen, just slightly.

You look up as he enters, the chime of the bell breaking the silence.

“Jungkook?” you say, surprised. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just walks over to the counter and leans against it. “I needed to get out of my head.”

You study him, noting the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. “Rough day?”

He laughs bitterly. “You could say that.”

The way you look at him, makes his heart flutter in an abnormal way, maybe it’s the loneliness that he’s making behave like this but you’re gaze actually drives him crazy

You hesitate for a moment before stepping around the counter, standing a little closer to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly, then softens. “I just… I don’t know. Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

You nod, not pushing him for details. Instead, you reach for the bottle of whiskey you keep hidden behind the counter for nights like this. You pour him a glass and slide it across the table.

“Here,” you say. “On the house.”

He takes a sip, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the turmoil in his mind. “Thanks.”

You sit down beside him, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. But you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching.

“You’re always here,” he says suddenly, his voice soft.

“Someone has to be,” you reply, your lips quirking into a small smile.

“You know Y/N? I’m so fucking alone. My girlfriend is probably cheating on me. She doesn’t care about me…. No one cares about me.” His voice breaks on the last sentence.

You look at him with pity and something deeper swimming in your gaze, but he doesn’t know how to pinpoint it, you urge him to continue so he does.

He chuckles, but it’s humorless. “It’s more than that. You don’t know what it means to me, Y/N. Just… knowing there’s someone who gives a damn.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Well, you look like you could use someone in your corner.”

He turns to you then, his gaze intense, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels charged, electric

“Why do you care so much?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, your pulse racing. “Maybe I just like seeing you smile.”

You’re the first person who has ever said that to him, and in that moment, he realizes that your silence is the only silence that doesn’t feel suffocating.

You look at him with such a deep emotion that it makes him go crazy, what are you doing to him? Why do you care about him so much?

You’ve been there for him since day one. You’re so comforting so kind and so nonjudgmental.

You listen to him rant, Complain, but you don’t say anything every time.

The more he looks at you, the more his heart keeps on thumping, inside his chest and alcohol just rushes through his body, and suddenly his pants feel so achingly tight.

The silence between you both is charged with tension, a tension that makes shivers go down his spine, you’re looking at him in a way that has him hallucinating that you want to lure him in.

He just wants to drown in your embrace, feel you in a way that no one has ever, he just wants to bury himself to hilt inside of you so maybe he can feel wanted again, and maybe he will feel safe for once.

His breath hitches, and before either of you can think better of it, his lips crash into yours.

•••

The back room of the café becomes a blur of heat and desperation as you both stumble in while he’s busy, shoving his tongue on your throat. It’s not tender—it’s raw, messy, driven by an ache neither of you can name. He breaks the kiss after it feels like hours, and he dips his head low and you feel his hot wet lips on your neck, His hands are rough against your skin, his lips leaving trails of bruises along your neck.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice breaking as his hands grip your hips. It feels so fucking good. The desperation and the need is driving you insane.

You can feel his muscular body, he’s so perfect. You have dreamed of this moment for the longest time. But you never really thought that it would come true.

But as he kisses your neck, his lips burn on your skin. And that makes you realize that this is your reality. You are finally getting to live your dream.

You moan out his name again breathlessly gripping on his shoulders so tightly as he attacks your neck, whispers of his name leave your mouth, you’re getting breathless, just by him kissing your skin.

That’s how much you want him.

He doesn’t respond with words, only pulls you closer, his movements frantic. It’s as though he’s trying to drown in you, to forget everything outside of this moment.

His scent is so exotic, he’s always smelled so good whenever he’s visited the café, his son is so stronger it surrounds the whole café and right now you’re so close to him. It’s getting you high.

You know that he’s drunk, he’s so fucking drunk and vulnerable, but you cannot bring yourself to stop him, especially not when he pushes your panties down, his lips hot on your collarbones.

How can you bring yourself to stop him when he’s suddenly licking his fingers, as he takes them out you, you stare at him, they’re glistening with his Saliva.

He’s so beautiful and so handsome, and the most sexiest man you’ve ever seen.

You can only encourage him, and you do that, when he finally starts to push his two digits inside of you, your hips buck up.

You’re so fucking wet it’s embarrassing.

He scissors them inside of you, curling them inside your gummy walls, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars, immediately and he’s barely even started

“AGGH…” you moan out loudly, He groans at the sound, sinking his teeth in your neck once again, he’s so needy right now, you feel his body temperature burning.

You’re burning up too.

Jungkook whispers in your ear, “take off my boxers.”

And you do, after that you start stroking his hard thick length, he’s so big, as you stare down at it, you gasp because it’s leaking already and it’s angry.

He’s been neglected for the longest time, you actually hate his girlfriend, but good for you. You get to feel him inside you like this.

He’s hungry for this. As you finally start to do the magic of your hands, he lets out a guttural moan, it’s so loud, and it rings in your ears.

you love the sounds he’s making right now. He sounds so hot almost like an animal in heat.

But he starts fucking your hand furiously, you lift his head up from your neck to look at him and you just want to keep him with you forever

He’s so beautiful.

He’s drooling, his eyes are closed as he feels the pleasure that you are giving him, the pleasure that he’s been denied for the longest time.

“T-Thank you so much for this because you have no idea how much I need this you have no idea how much I need you… yn- ngh… I’ve been dreaming about this… how about you… and you feel so much better than my imagination”

Jungkook cannot wait anymore though, just as he’s close, he wraps your legs around his waist and gently removes your hand, kisses you hard as he shoves his cock in your warm pussy.

“Let me feel your pussy, I need you, baby…” he begs, you grip his shoulders and kiss his cheek. He lets out a shuddering breath once your heat cages him in.

He starts moving his hips at a really fast pace, he’s jackhammering into you, Jungkooks moaning is echoing throughout the back room.

“NGHH mhmm AHHHG…. AHHH…”

The pleasure that you’re feeling right now is the most that you’ve ever felt in your life and you never knew that you could feel this good while having sex.

The sex with him is feeling so hot, so good and so fucking raw.

He’s so big you can see it bulging from inside of you, you gasp.

“Cum… please Cum inside me.”

You press desperate kisses on his neck, and on the hollow of his throat He’s so vocal about this. So hot. And then he lets out a desperate mewl as he cums inside your cunt.

It’s hot, thick and full as he fills you up to brim.

But it’s starts leaking out because it’s so much, you can feel it running down your thighs.

“You felt a-ah… so fuckin good, yn.”

When it’s over, the two of you lie tangled together on the worn couch, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, resting a hand on his chest. “Don’t apologize.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching for something he can’t find.

“You’re not alone, Jungkook,” you say softly. “Not anymore.”

But as he drifts off to sleep, your words echo in his mind, and unease curls in his chest.

•••

The first rays of sunlight filter through the cracks in the blinds, casting faint streaks across the cramped backroom of the café. The room is quiet, save for the sound of Jungkook's breathing. He lies awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped over him like a lifeline.

The memories of the night before play in his mind on an endless loop-your soft moans, the way your body had responded to his touch, how you had whispered his name like a prayer. He feels a pang of guilt, but not for what he did. He doesn't regret it. Not the way your warmth had pulled him from the cold void he'd been living in, not the way you made him forget the weight of the world for a few fleeting hours.

What eats at him is the realization that he used you-your body, your kindness, your feelings— for his own selfish needs. And yet, as much as the guilt gnaws at him, a darker truth lingers: it had felt so good. You had felt so good.

Your breathing changes, pulling him from his thoughts. You stir slightly, your fingers twitching against his chest before you lift your head to meet his gaze.

"Good morning," you say softly, your voice thick with sleep.

He swallows hard, unsure of what to say.

“Morning,” he replies, his voice quieter than he intends.

You sit up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you adjust yourself on the edge of the couch. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of what happened between you hanging in the air.

“Are you okay?” you ask finally, breaking the silence.

“I don't know,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You bite your lip, looking down at your lap. "Last night..."

“Wasn't supposed to happen,” he says, cutting you off.

You flinch slightly but force a small smile. “I know,” you murmur.

He sighs deeply, sitting up and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don't regret it,” he says finally, his voice low.

Your head snaps up, your eyes wide with surprise.

“I don't regret being with you,” he continues, his tone softening. “But I regret... I regret that I used you. That I let my emotions... my loneliness take over. You didn't deserve that.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his arm. “Jungkook, you didn't use me. I wanted it too.”

He looks at you, his dark eyes filled with conflict.

“I know you did. But that doesn't make it right.”

You hold his gaze, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “It's not wrong either,” you whisper.

He exhales sharply, standing up and pulling on his jacket. “I need to think," he mutters. “I need to figure out what I'm doing.”

Jungkook walks through the quiet streets, the early morning chill biting at his skin. His mind is a storm of emotions-shame, guilt, longing. He knows he should be thinking about Mina, the case, about everything that's been spiraling out of control in his life. But all he can think about is you.

You, with your soft smile and kind eyes. You, who had welcomed him without judgment. You, who had given him a moment of solace in the chaos.

He doesn't regret being with you, but he regrets what it means. He regrets how easily you've slipped into the cracks of his carefully constructed walls.

And yet, even as he walks away, he knows he'll come back to you. He always does.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling the same… after he leaves you at the door as it shuts.

You sit on the couch long after Jungkook has gone, staring at the spot where he had been just minutes before. Your heart feels heavy, conflicted. Last night had been everything you'd ever wanted, but now it feels tainted by his guilt, his regret.

Still, you can't bring yourself to regret it. Not when it had felt so perfect, so right.

But as you move to the front of the café, preparing for the day ahead, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Jungkook. And you're not sure if it's for better or worse.

But you do know that this was only the beginning and this is not gonna end ever and you don’t want to.

•••

A month goes by, he hasn’t visited the cafe after that night woth you, he’s started to get over Mina, The investigation starts to grow worse, the killer more mysterious than ever. Jungkook’s focus shifts entirely to the case, but the memory of that night with you lingers, a dangerous distraction. He avoids Mina entirely, his guilt toward her eclipsed by the tangled emotions he feels when he sees you.

It’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down.

•••

The night Jungkook slept with you still lingers in his mind, haunting him like a half-remembered dream, a moment of clarity and chaos all at once. He tells himself it was a mistake, that he was drunk, confused, and in need of something—someone—that wasn’t Mina. But he knows deep down, it was more than that. It was the kind of intimacy that made him feel human again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Yet, when he wakes up the next morning, reality settles back into place. He tries to push you out of his thoughts as he makes his way to work, but every time he passes by the café, he finds himself looking for you, wondering if you’re there. The guilt gnaws at him, but the emptiness inside makes him think about you again, just for a moment.

What Jungkook doesn’t know, what he can’t see, is that the girl behind the counter, the quiet barista with the warm smile, has already made up her mind. You’ve already planned it out.

Mina is your problem now.

Mina never did anything wrong. She never even knew the darkness that lurked beneath your calm exterior. To her, you were just another face behind the counter, the one who always smiled, who always gave her the right change with a soft chuckle. She was just another customer. But that was before you realized she was still with Jungkook, and that was the last straw.

Mina knows about your crush on Jungkook because, on several occasions in the past, Jungkook had brought her with him when he visited the café. It wasn’t frequent, but enough for Mina to catch on to the subtle tension that simmered between you and him.

You hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but every time Jungkook walked into the café, your demeanor shifted. You’d become a little more flustered, your heart would race, and your eyes would light up, especially when he greeted you with that easy smile. It didn’t take much for someone like Mina, who was always looking for cracks in the façade, to notice.

The first time Jungkook brought her in, you did your best to be casual, to act as though you weren’t paying any special attention to him.

But Mina, watching from across the table, saw how you seemed a little more eager, a little more careful with every cup you made for him. She observed how your voice softened when you spoke to him, how your hands trembled just slightly as you handed him his order. It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out: there was something more than just friendship between you two, even if it was unspoken.

After that day, Mina started coming in more frequently when she knew Jungkook would be there.

She made a point of sitting at a table near the counter, watching the subtle interactions between you two, almost like a game. It gave her a sense of satisfaction—of control—to see how much you cared for him, how much you tried to hide it.

What really gave Mina the final piece of the puzzle was the day Jungkook brought her in again. This time, the way you interacted with him was different. You didn’t hide your feelings as well. You weren’t as guarded. Maybe you thought Jungkook had stopped noticing, that you could just be yourself around him without it being awkward, but Mina saw through it.

She watched you smile at him a little too brightly, watched how your voice softened when you said his name.

That’s when she knew. She had been right all along.

From that point forward, Mina began to play with this knowledge, poking at you, dropping little comments here and there about Jungkook. It wasn’t out of genuine interest in your well-being.

No, Mina was the type who thrived on power, on knowing things others didn’t. She knew you had feelings for Jungkook, and she wasn’t above using that against you.

Mina wasn’t a regular customer, but she made it a point to come by whenever she knew Jungkook would be there. She’d sit back, watch, and wait for you to slip up—because she knew it wouldn’t be long before you showed just how much you cared.

You watch her from the back of the café, your fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as she orders another coffee, laughs too loudly at something a friend says, her smile a little too bright.

You’re not the type to go unnoticed, not anymore. You’ve made sure of it. But this girl? She’s everything you’re not. Beautiful, untainted. Her life is easy—untainted by secrets or shame. But that life is a lie. And she doesn’t deserve it.

The tension builds like a slow-burning fuse as the afternoon wears on. Your hand shakes as you wipe down the counter, the hum of the coffee machine loud in your ears.

Mina doesn’t know how much you hate her. Doesn’t know that she’s the one thing standing between you and what you’ve convinced yourself is yours. Jungkook.

The thought of him with her, the way he always turns to her in the café, makes your stomach twist. You wish she’d just disappear. So, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

•••

The café is quiet as you lock up for the night.

The faint hum of the city lingers in the distance, but it doesn't reach your small sanctuary.

It's been a month since the night with Jungkook, and though he hasn't been back to the café in days, the memory of him is enough to send a shiver through your body.

You've noticed changes-small ones at first. A nauseous unease in the mornings, a fatigue that you can't shake. Tonight, though, you can't ignore the obvious anymore. Your period is late

far too late.

When you get home, you head straight for the drawer where you hid the pregnancy test. It had been an impulsive purchase a few days ago, something you hadn't wanted to face until you

absolutely had to.

The bathroom feels impossibly quiet as you take the test, sitting on the edge of the tub and waiting for the results. Seconds stretch into an eternity. When the lines appear, bold and unmistakable, the air leaves your lungs.

Your mind races. The weight of the word sinks into your chest. It's him. Jungkook. That night.

The night when everything felt like it could finally belong to you. But now, this?

Panic bubbles inside you, but it's swallowed by something darker, more visceral.

Mina's face flashes in your mind, and it's as if the pregnancy test has turned her shadow into a living, breathing entity. She's always there, always hovering around the edges of your thoughts, a reminder of what you'll never truly have.

She broke up with Jungkook that night. You've pieced that much together. She left him, but her presence still looms over you.

It's her fault you feel this way. Her fault that Jungkook can't be entirely yours.

Before you realize it, you're out the door again, the pregnancy test left abandoned on the counter. The idea takes root in your mind with terrifying clarity.

Mina's address isn't hard to find. She used to post pictures from home-soft, curated glimpses of her perfect life.

The city streets blur as you drive. Your fingers tighten on the wheel as adrenaline floods your veins.

When you pull up to her house, the world feels unnervingly still. The house is modest but exudes her curated style, clean and pristine. A pang of rage surges through you.

You knock softly at first. When there's no response, you knock louder, your fist trembling against the wood. Finally, the door opens.

Mina stands there in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, her hair tied back, and her expression instantly hardens when she sees you.

“What are you doing here?” she says sharply, her voice cutting through the air.

You don't answer. You push past her, stepping into her living room without waiting for an invitation. She whirls around, glaring at you.

“Excuse me?” Mina snaps, her hands on her hips. "You can't just barge in here-"

But you're not listening. Your focus sharpens as you glance around the room, taking in the perfection of it all. Everything she's built, everything she's taken from you without even knowing it.

“You ruined him,” you say suddenly, your voice low and trembling.

Mina freezes, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You don't deserve him,” you continue, stepping closer. The words spill out, raw and jagged. You never did. You threw him away.”

Mina's eyes widen, and for the first time, there's a flicker of unease in her expression. “Are you insane?” she says, backing up slightly. “This has nothing to do with you.”

But it does. It has everything to do with you.

The knife is in your pocket, cold and heavy against your palm as you pull it out. Mina's eyes go wide, and she lets out a sharp gasp.

“Y/N, stop. What are vou doing?” she says, her voice trembling now, you see fear in her eyes, and that is so satisfying

“I'm taking back what's mine,” you whisper, stepping forward.

Mina screams as you lunge, but she's fast. Her nails rake across your arm as she tries to push you away, drawing blood. The knife slips from your grasp briefly, clattering to the floor, and the two of you struggle, crashing into the coffee table.

She fights harder than you expected. Her fists hit your sides, her nails digging into your skin.

But your rage is stronger, a blinding force that drives you forward.

Finally, you grab the knife again, plunging it into her chest. The scream chokes in her throat, her hands flailing weakly as you press the blade deeper.

The fight leaves her body, her eyes glazing over as she crumples to the floor.

You stand there, panting, your body trembling with adrenaline. Blood pools around her, staining the pristine floor, and it's then you notice the streaks of red on yor wn arms.

Her nails. She scratched you.

Your breath quickens as the reality sets in. You grab a dishcloth from the kitchen, wrapping it around your arm to staunch the bleeding.

You leave quickly, your mind racing. The blood you've left behind is a risk, but it's done now.

She's gone.

As you drive away, the silence in the car feels deafening. You glance at your bandaged arm, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

It's over. She's gone.

But the faint, nagging thought of the blood you've left behind lingers in the back of your mind, a seed of doubt that you can't shake.

•••

The next day, Jungkook’s phone rings with the news. Mina’s body is found in at her home reported by the neighbors, discarded like a broken toy. The details of her murder are grisly—so much blood, so many signs of a struggle. But there’s something more. Something that gnaws at him,

He doesn’t know it yet, And Jungkook has no idea how close he is to the one thing he’s been hunting.

As he visits the scene of the crime, his heart heavy with guilt over his own sins, the truth starts to swirl around him, each clue pulling him closer to you. But you are always just one step ahead.

And you’re not finished yet.

•••

Jungkook stands at the edge of the crime scene, Mina’s home. Familiar home, his mind racing as he watches the forensic team finish their work. Mina’s body has been taken away, but something about the scene feels unfinished—unnerving. As the team packs up, the lingering sense of wrongness creeps into his chest.

He takes a few more steps into the room, his eyes scanning every inch.

The silence is heavy, thick with the smell of blood, and something else, something he can’t quite place. He feels like he’s being watched even though he’s the only one left. His gut instinct tells him there’s more to find, something hidden beneath the surface.

“Detective Jeon,” a voice calls out, pulling him from his thoughts. He turns to see Officer Lee, the junior detective, holding a small evidence bag.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, his voice tight with impatience.

“Sir,” Lee continues, stepping closer. “We found something odd in the kitchen area, near the counter. It’s fresh blood, but it doesn’t match the scene at all. It’s… different.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, different?”

Lee’s face shifts, his expression nervous. “It’s not the same consistency as the blood we’ve been seeing from the victims. It seems… newer, almost as if it wasn’t part of the original violence.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. The blood. It’s almost like the killer made a mistake. He follows Lee to the kitchen, where they find the dark stain on the floor. It’s small but unmistakable, a sharp contrast against the faded red of the rest of the scene.

He kneels down, his gloved fingers brushing the edges of the stain. The blood is darker than what they’ve seen from the victim, almost as though it’s been there for some time—but that doesn’t make sense. He knew Mina was killed just hours ago.

“Is this from the victim?” Jungkook asks, still focused on the stain.

“We don’t think so,” Lee replies, his tone uncertain. “It’s not consistent with the rest of the scene.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “It looks fresh.”

His instincts kick in. Something is off, and he knows it’s not just the stain. His gaze lingers on the blood. He needs to know more. If this is part of the same pattern, then they’re dealing with something entirely different.

“Send it to forensics,” he orders. “Get it tested immediately. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Hours pass before Jungkook finds himself in the sterile white of the forensics lab, waiting as the technician works quickly to process the blood sample they’ve retrieved from the crime scene.

He stands by, his mind on edge, feeling the pull of the unknown tightening its grip. The room is quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the faint clicking of keyboards as the technician runs the test.

Finally, the technician hands Jungkook a printed report. Jungkook takes it with a calmness he doesn’t feel, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he scans the document.

The results are like a slap in the face.

The blood—this blood—belongs to a woman.

His chest tightens as he rereads the details. But it’s not just any woman. The test shows the presence of hormone levels consistent with early pregnancy.

A pregnant woman.

The words blur before his eyes. His mind struggles to make sense of it. Pregnant? How could it be?

This isn’t just some random woman who happened to get involved in the case. This is a pregnant woman. The kind of detail that changes everything.

He stares at the report in stunned silence. Mina’s murder doesn’t fit with any of the previous patterns, but this… this is a whole new level of complexity. And, despite his growing confusion, Jungkook can’t shake the nagging thought that the killer might be someone unexpected—someone who’s been hiding in plain sight.

Jungkook’s mind races as he pieces everything together. The fact that the blood belongs to a pregnant woman is huge. It feels like a lead that could take him in an entirely new direction, but there’s something else gnawing at him. A suspicion he can’t quite shake.

It’s the note he found on Mina’s body. The strange connection between the killings. Every victim has had a twisted background, all male, all with histories of violence or crime. But Mina… she was an exception. A woman. And she wasn’t involved in the same kind of criminal activity.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right. He’s seen this before—when his intuition is pushing him toward an answer, even when he doesn’t have all the pieces. And now, with this new revelation about the blood, that nagging feeling is only growing stronger.

Could the killer be a woman? Could the killer be pregnant? The thought unsettles him, but it makes sense. Perhaps this is the killer’s twist—targeting those who have wronged others, who’ve hurt people in the most vicious ways, while hiding behind a carefully crafted disguise.

As he stands there, staring at the test results, a chilling realization slowly begins to creep in. He hasn’t even begun to connect the dots. He hasn’t yet put it all together.

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes the one thing that’s been staring him in the face all along: someone close to him could be hiding this terrible secret.

But he doesn’t know who that is yet.

The blood. The pregnancy. The mysterious nature of Mina’s death—everything points to a killer who’s been hidden from view. Someone who’s not just playing a part in this sick game but is actively controlling the strings.

Jungkook takes one last look at the report in his hand. The piece of paper seems to burn with the weight of its revelation.

“Pregnant,” he mutters under his breath, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “Who could it be?”

Jungkook’s thoughts are muddled. He hasn’t even considered the possibility that someone he knows could be involved. But the facts keep leading him in that direction.

With every passing second, the answer feels closer, yet farther away. All Jungkook knows for certain is that this case is far more complicated than he ever imagined.

And the killer is closer than he thinks.

•••

That night? he decides to visit his favorite coffee place again

The café is dimly lit, the warm golden glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows across the empty tables. It’s late—well past closing time for most places—but you’re still here. You’ve started staying later than usual, lingering in the quiet of your sanctuary, unable to go home to the lingering guilt of what you’ve done.

You’re wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimes. The sound startles you, breaking through the silence. When you look up, it’s him.

Jungkook.

He’s standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. It’s been a month since that night, and he hasn’t been back since. Seeing him now feels like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“Jungkook,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “You’re here again after a long time..”

He offers a small, tired smile as he steps inside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “I know it’s late… but are you still making coffee?”

You nod quickly, trying to push down the rising emotions threatening to choke you. “Of course. For you? Always.”

He sits at his usual spot near the counter, leaning back in the chair as he watches you move around the machine. The silence between you is thick, weighted with everything unsaid.

As you hand him the cup, his fingers brush against yours. The contact is brief but electric, sending a shiver up your spine. He takes a sip, his eyes closing as he lets out a soft sigh.

“This is exactly what I needed,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The words burst from your lips before you can stop them. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks up at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the counter for support. You’ve been rehearsing this in your head for days, but now, with him sitting there, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

“I’m… I’m pregnant,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. He sets the cup down slowly, staring at you like he’s trying to piece together what you just said.

“What?” he says finally, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

You swallow hard, nodding. “It’s yours, Jungkook. From that night.”

His breath hitches, and he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Pregnant,” he repeats, almost to himself. The weight of the revelation sinks in, his eyes flicking to your stomach before meeting your gaze again.

“That’s… that’s a lot to process,” he says finally, his tone careful.

“But.. promise that I won’t abandon you… I will take full responsibility.. don’t worry… I’m so sorry”

You’re about to say something—anything to break the tension—when his gaze drops to your arm. His brows knit together as he notices the faint, raw scratches peeking out from beneath your sleeve.

“What happened to your arm?” he asks, his tone shifting, more alert now.

Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your chest. You pull your sleeve down instinctively, hiding the marks. “It’s nothing,” you say quickly, too quickly.

He doesn’t look convinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies you. “Those look fresh,” he says, his voice sharp. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” you say firmly, forcing a laugh. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches you, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to read the truth in your expression.

“Y/N,” he says finally, his voice soft but insistent. “If something’s going on, you need to tell me.”

You shake your head, plastering on a smile that feels more like a mask. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to worry.”

But he doesn’t look convinced. His jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I promise. Everything’s fine.”

He doesn’t press further, but the tension in the air is palpable. You can feel his eyes on you as you turn away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning.

The rest of the conversation is stilted, awkward. He finishes his coffee quickly, his movements stiff and deliberate.

“I should go,” he says finally, standing up and sliding the cup toward you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

You nod, forcing a smile as you watch him leave. The door swings shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You lean against the counter, your legs trembling beneath you. The scratches on your arm burn as if in reminder. You knew this moment would come, but now that it has, you feel the weight of everything crashing down around you.

He doesn’t suspect you—not yet. But the way he looked at you, the questions he asked… it’s only a matter of time.

•••

Jungkook sits at his desk in the dimly lit precinct, the case file for Mina’s murder spread out before him. His mind is a storm, every detail looping back to the one piece of evidence he can’t shake—the fresh blood at the crime scene, identified as belonging to a pregnant woman.

He had brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was some unknown accomplice or a bizarre twist in the killer’s pattern. But now, after his late-night visit to the café, everything feels like it’s coming together in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

His hands clench into fists as he remembers Y/N’s confession.

And then there were the scratches.

They’d looked raw, fresh—exactly like the kind of defensive wounds a victim might leave behind. He tries to dismiss the thought. It’s Y/N, he tells himself. Sweet, shy Y/N, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. But the evidence won’t let him go.

The blood. The scratches. Her sudden nervousness, the way she pulled her sleeve down, the way she avoided his eyes when he asked her about it.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t even want to entertain the thought. But as an inspector, he knows he can’t ignore the signs.

He flips through the photos from the crime scene, his eyes lingering on the smear of blood leading away from Mina’s body. The forensic team had confirmed it didn’t belong to Mina, and it wasn’t old enough to have been left by anyone else.

It had to be the killer’s.

He leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. His mind races with conflicting thoughts—his duty to the case, his growing feelings for Y/N, and the sickening possibility that they might be connected in ways he can’t yet comprehend.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from across the room, breaking his train of thought. “Anything new?”

Jungkook shakes his head, snapping the file shut. “No,” he lies. “Still piecing it together.”

But inside, he knows he can’t ignore this.

The next night, Jungkook finds himself back at the café. It’s late again, and the streets are quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car. He tells himself he’s just here for coffee, to clear his head. But deep down, he knows that’s not true.

Y/N is behind the counter, her movements slower than usual, as if weighed down by something unseen. She startles when she sees him walk in, her eyes wide, but she quickly masks it with a smile.

“Back again?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

He nods, offering a small smile of his own. “Couldn’t stay away. You make the best coffee, remember?”

She laughs softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He watches her closely as she moves, noticing the way she avoids his gaze, the way she keeps her sleeves tugged down over her wrists.

When she sets the cup in front of him, he doesn’t drink right away. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady but probing.

She looks up at him, her smile faltering. “Yeah?”

“You never told me how you got those scratches,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Her breath catches, and he sees the flicker of panic in her expression before she quickly masks it. “I told you,” she says lightly. “I’m clumsy.”

“Clumsy enough to leave marks like that?” he presses, his gaze unrelenting.

Her hands tremble slightly as she picks up a cloth and starts wiping down the counter. “Why are you asking?” she says, her tone defensive.

He leans back, his jaw tightening. “Just curious. You know, with everything going on… people getting hurt. Makes me worry.”

She doesn’t respond, her focus fixed on the counter. The tension between them is thick, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Jungkook isn’t convinced. Every instinct in him is screaming that something is wrong, that she’s hiding something. And yet, despite everything, a part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

“Okay,” he says finally, his tone softening. “If you say so.”

But as he leaves the café that night, the weight of his suspicions feels heavier than ever. The blood, the scratches, her nervousness—it all lines up too perfectly to ignore.

Jungkook walks slowly back to his car, his mind swirling with thoughts he doesn’t want to entertain. He stops just short of the driver’s seat, leaning against the door and staring at the dark street ahead.

The Y/N he knows—the one he’s been drawn to, the one who seemed so kind, so unassuming—couldn’t possibly be capable of this. Could she?

He slams his fist lightly against the roof of the car, frustration boiling under his skin. He doesn’t want to doubt her. But the evidence doesn’t lie.

That same night, Jungkook decides to dive deeper into the case. He returns to the precinct and retrieves the forensic report on the blood found at Mina’s home. He’s read it before, but now, with fresh eyes, he scans the details again.

The report confirms it: the blood belongs to a pregnant woman. The realization sends a chill down his spine.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in as he tries to piece it all together. The killer had left no other trace—no prints, no DNA—just this blood. It was careless, uncharacteristic of someone who had been so meticulous with the other murders.

Why now? he wonders.

The connection feels tenuous at best, but the scratches on Y/N’s arm flash in his mind again, and he can’t ignore the unease building in his chest.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from his desk, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re still here? Go home, man. You’ve been at this for weeks.”

Jungkook forces a nod, shutting the file and grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I’m going,” he mutters.

But he doesn’t go home.

Instead, he drives back to Mina’s house, parking a short distance away and stepping out into the cold night. The crime scene has long since been cleared, but he needs to see it again, needs to feel it.

The house looms dark and silent, a grim reminder of what had happened within its walls. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel as he shines his flashlight across the ground.

And then he sees it—a faint stain on the walkway leading away from the house.

His heart pounds as he kneels down, pulling on gloves and carefully swabbing the dried blood. It’s faint but fresh enough to have gone unnoticed during the initial sweep.

He stands, staring at the swab in his hand. It could be nothing, a stray smear left behind by someone from the forensics team. But it could also be something.

Someone.

As he slips the evidence into a bag, his mind circles back to Y/N. The scratches. Her sudden announcement. The way she seemed so on edge, so unlike herself.

The thought makes his stomach twist painfully. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the pieces are falling into place, and the picture they’re forming is one he can’t ignore.

He gets back into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His next steps are clear: have the blood tested again, cross-reference it, and get answers.

But for now, he sits in the dark, staring out at the empty street,

Caught between his duty as an inspector and the growing fear that the woman he’s falling for might be the one he’s been chasing all along.

•••

It’s been days since Jungkook swabbed the blood at Mina’s crime scene. Days of sleepless nights, staring at reports, running DNA tests, and trying to ignore the tightening noose of suspicion around Y/N.

The results came back that morning. The blood is a match. A match for the mysterious pregnant killer. A match for Y/N, You.

The words on the report burn into his mind, but he can’t bring himself to process them fully. Instead, he spends hours driving aimlessly through Seodaemun-gu, circling back to the café before stopping outside Y/N’s small apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, or do. The woman he’s fallen for—who is carrying his child—has killed at least eighteen people, including Mina. But the thought of turning you in feels like a betrayal he’s incapable of.

Jungkook climbs the steps to your door, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure you’ll hear it the moment he knocks.

The door opens almost immediately, and Y/N’s face lights up in surprise. “Jungkook,” you say softly, but there’s a tension in your voice, as if you’ve been expecting this moment.

He steps inside without asking, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the room, searching for something—anything that might confirm what he already knows.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say, your voice low. You move to the small kitchen, your movements stiff.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “We need to talk.”

You freeze, your back to him, her hand resting on the counter. “About what?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead stepping closer. “You already know what.”

Y/N turns to face him, Your expression guarded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jungkook.”

“Don’t,” he says, his tone sharper than he intends. He exhales slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I know, Y/N. About Mina. About all of it.”

Your face pales, and for a moment, you doesn’t respond. Then you cross your arms, your gaze steady but wary. “You’re mistaken,” you say evenly.

“I’m not,” he replies. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the forensic report, dropping it onto the table. “This is your blood. At Mina’s house. You were there.”

Y/N’s breath catches, and you looks down at the report, your hands trembling. “It’s not what you think,” you whisper,

“Then tell me what it is!” His voice rises, the frustration and desperation spilling out. “Because the evidence says you killed her, Y/N. It says you’ve killed all of them.”

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she steps back, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady herself. “I did it,” she says quietly, her voice breaking. “But they deserved it, Jungkook. Every single one of them.”

He stares at her, the weight of her confession hitting him like a freight train. “Mina didn’t deserve it,” he says, his voice hollow.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head. “She broke you, Jungkook. She hurt you. And I couldn’t—”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” he shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. “You had no right!”

Silence falls between them, heavy and suffocating. Y/N’s tears spill over, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to defend herself further.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, his thoughts spiraling. He knows what he should do—what his duty demands. But when he looks at her, at the woman carrying his child, he feels nothing but agony.

“I’m pregnant,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“SERIOUSLY YN What the fuck have you done? I fell in love with a psychotic killer. FUCK!”

She flinches at his tone, her tears falling harder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says, her voice cracking. “I just, I couldn’t let them keep hurting people. I couldn’t let her keep hurting you.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, her words tearing through him. When he finally looks at her again, his expression is unreadable. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asks, his voice quiet but laced with pain.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You’ve destroyed everything,” he says, his voice breaking.

She sobs, collapsing into a chair. “I didn’t mean to destroy you, Jungkook. I—”

“You didn’t destroy me,” he cuts her off, his tone icy. “You destroyed us.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his words suffocating them both.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hollow. “I can’t turn you in, Y/N. I should, but I can’t. Because I—” He stops himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought. “But I need you to know that what you’ve done… it’s unforgivable.”

She looks up at him, her tear-streaked face full of anguish. “Then what happens now?”

Jungkook stares at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling. “I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know.”

And with that, he turns and walks out, leaving her alone with her guilt and the devastating weight of what she’s done.

•••

He takes a lot of Days to think about what he’s gonna do next, the truth is that he’s fallen too deeply in love with you to turn you in especially since he found out that you’re pregnant and as fucked up as it sounds, but the way you confessed to him that you killed Mina because she had hurt him,

It switched something inside him.. no one has ever gone that far for him.

You’re expecting his child

He has to do something to save you. He cannot turn you in no matter what.

So he decides to do something, a week later.

Jungkook sits alone in his car, parked a block away from the station. The stack of case files sits on the passenger seat, the details of eighteen brutal murders outlined in gruesome detail. At the top of the stack is Mina’s file.

The weight of what he’s about to do crushes his chest, but he’s made his decision.

If you go down, you take his child with you. You take him with you.

He exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He’s always been a by-the-book cop, but the moment he fell for Y/N, that part of him started to crumble. Now, he’s about to destroy what’s left of it.

He enters the station with confidence and a mask.

The precinct buzzes with energy as Jungkook walks in, the familiar hum of chatter and clacking keyboards filling the air. His partner, Detective Choi, greets him with a nod.

“Got something for me, Jeon?” Choi asks, leaning back in his chair.

Jungkook sets the files down on his desk, forcing a calm expression. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been looking into a lead.”

Choi raises an eyebrow. “A lead? We’ve been spinning our wheels on this for months. What kind of lead?”

Jungkook opens Mina’s file, pulling out the report he fabricated the night before. He had spent hours doctoring evidence, crafting a story that would absolve Y/N of suspicion.

“This,” he says, handing the report to Choi.

Choi scans the document, his expression shifting from skepticism to curiosity. “A drug connection?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook lies smoothly. “I traced the source of the drug found in all the victims to a trafficking ring operating out of Incheon. It’s messy, but I think one of their enforcers is responsible for the killings.”

Choi frowns, flipping through the pages. “An enforcer who kills eighteen people, including Mina, and just disappears?”

“That’s the thing,” Jungkook says, leaning in. “I think they’ve already been eliminated. Internal cleaning. It explains why the killings stopped after Mina’s case.”

It’s a bold lie, but Jungkook delivers it with conviction, weaving in just enough plausible details to make it stick. He knows Choi is sharp, but he also knows his partner is tired of this case. They all are.

Choi nods slowly, handing the report back. “It’s a stretch, but it tracks. You’re saying we close this case on the assumption the killer’s dead?”

Jungkook shrugs, feigning indifference. “Unless you’ve got a better lead, I don’t see another option. The evidence lines up. It’s messy, but it fits.”

Choi exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. “Fine. I’ll run it by the chief.”

•••

The reaction is mixed. Some detectives are relieved to put the case behind them, satisfied with Jungkook’s explanation. Others grumble about loose ends and unanswered questions, but no one presses too hard.

“Good work, Jeon,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve been on this for months. Go home. Get some rest.”

Jungkook forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, chief.”

As he walks out of the precinct, he feels the weight of his actions settle over him. He’s betrayed his badge, his oath, and every victim in this case.

But he’s saved you.

But there’s still a lot of loose ends that he needs to tie up, especially to convince his department that the pregnant woman was a pawn.

He needs to do something really convincing, and soon because time is running out.

•••

After a lot of days later, you’re almost now almost two pregnant, Jungkook hasn’t visited you after that confrontation and you think that maybe he’s abandoned you and maybe he’s gonna arrest you but you’re ready to pay for your sins.

You know what you were getting into when you decided to do this and you don’t regret killing any one of them.

Especially not Mina

Only if you had any idea… about what is happening around you…

The apartment is quiet when Jungkook arrives. The air feels thick with tension, the kind that comes from unsaid words, from everything that’s been building up for weeks, months even.

He’s been here before, countless times, but tonight feels different. It’s as if the weight of everything that’s happened has finally caught up to him. The lies. The murder. The twisted love you’ve both been hiding from.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table when he walks in, a cup of cold coffee in front of you, untouched. The dim light casts long shadows across your face,

making you look almost ethereal, but there’s a darkness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t know whether it’s the guilt or the truth that lingers between you both, but it’s there. It’s palpable.

You don’t stand up when he enters. You don’t even look at him at first. Instead, your fingers trace the rim of the cup absentmindedly, like you’re lost in thought, deciding what to say. Or maybe deciding if you should say anything at all.

“You’re here,” you say finally, your voice quiet, almost resigned. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

Jungkook closes the door behind him, his breath heavy. The sight of you is almost too much to bear.

He feels the pull, the urgency of everything that’s been building up since that night at the café. But there’s something else too. Something darker. The guilt. The secret he’s been keeping. The knowledge that he’s closing his eyes to the truth.

“I had to,” he replies, his voice hoarse. His eyes move to you, scanning your face, trying to find the woman he once thought he understood, the one who wasn’t a murderer. But now, nothing seems as simple as it once did.

You finally look up, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, he sees it. The crack in your facade. The vulnerability that you’ve been hiding. But it’s fleeting. Quickly masked by that cold, calculating expression he’s learned to fear.

“You did what you had to?” you echo, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Funny. I didn’t know I was something you had to protect.”

Your stomach twists, guilt washing over you as you feel the weight of your words. The truth that he’s been avoiding hits you like a punch to the gut.

“I didn’t want to…,” he starts, his words faltering. “I didn’t want any of this. But I couldn’t let you go. Not after everything.”

You smile, but it’s not a smile at all. It’s a mask. A shield you’ve put up, but he sees through it. Just like he’s starting to see through everything you’ve done.

“Why didn’t you let me go, Jungkook?” you ask, standing slowly, your eyes never leaving his. You take a step toward him, the space between you narrowing with every heartbeat. “Because of your guilt? Or because you want me? Because you want us?”

Jungkook feels the heat rising in his chest, his body tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wants to deny it, wants to tell you that it’s not like that, but the truth is too raw to ignore. He’s in too deep. He’s in love with you.

“I…” he hesitates, struggling with the words that seem impossible to say. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Y/N. But I want you. More than anything.”

The words hang in the air between you both, thick with tension. You step closer, the space between you vanishing entirely. Your breath is warm against his skin as you raise a hand to his chest, tracing a line down to the hem of his shirt.

“Then why do you keep pretending like this is all just a mistake?” Your voice is soft now, a little breathless, but there’s something in it that makes his heart race even faster. “You know what I’ve done. You know the truth. So why are we still playing this game?”

His chest tightens as he stares into your eyes, the question echoing in his mind. Why are we still playing this game?

He’s already crossed too many lines, already made choices that can’t be undone. He’s in love with you, and that’s the only truth he can hold onto right now. But the guilt, the knowledge of what you’ve done—it’s suffocating him.

“I’m here because I don’t have a choice,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve already made my choice. And it’s you.”

You look at him, your gaze calculating, but something flickers in your eyes. Relief? Or is it something darker? He can’t tell anymore.

“You don’t have to choose between me and the truth, Jungkook,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re inches apart. “The truth is… we belong together. In everything we’ve done. In everything we’ll do.”

The words send a shiver through him. There’s no going back now. He knows it. You know it.

His hands reach for you, pulling you into him, and your lips meet in a kiss that is desperate and consuming. He’s not thinking anymore. He’s not questioning. He’s just here, with you, drowning in everything that’s pulled you both together.

When you finally break apart, his breath is ragged, his chest heaving. Your hands rest on his shoulders, your eyes dark with something he can’t quite place.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he says, his voice hoarse, the words pouring out of him without thought.

“I know,” you reply softly, your fingers brushing against his neck. “And I’ll do anything for you too. But we have to be honest with each other now. No more lies.”

He nods, the weight of your words sinking into his bones. There’s no turning back now. “Jungkook.. you know it was a big skill investigation rate. How did you even convince your department to close the case tell me what did you do.”

He looks at you and smiles

He’s made his choice.

“Okay fine I will tell you.”

The investigation was closing in, and with each passing day, the walls seemed to close in tighter around Jungkook. The blood—so carefully planted at Mina’s crime scene—was becoming a ticking time bomb, and the pressure to keep Y/N safe weighed heavily on him. His heart hammered in his chest every time the case came up in discussion, and he knew he had to take drastic measures.

He needed to shut it all down. Permanently.

That’s when it hit him: a recently discovered body in a nearby district. A woman—pregnant, recently deceased, and conveniently found under suspicious circumstances. She wasn’t the killer, but to Jungkook, she might as well have been. He could use her to frame the entire investigation.

When Jungkook visited the morgue that night, the body lay still on the cold steel table, a haunting reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The woman had died under mysterious circumstances, no clear motive, no clear suspect. And with her pregnancy, she was the perfect pawn.

Jungkook’s mind raced as he walked around the body, his eyes lingering on her swollen belly, her pale face, the indistinct bruises on her skin that told a story he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, the ghost of guilt flickering behind his thoughts. But there was no time for hesitation. He needed this body.

In his mind, he already had a plan.

He would stage the scene, make it look like this woman was the killer. He’d plant evidence that suggested the woman had been linked to Mina’s death—trace amounts of blood, a few fingerprints in the wrong places. A well-placed piece of clothing or object to tie her to the scene. It was risky, but it was the only way to close the case without implicating Y/N.

The morgue attendant, a sleepy-eyed man who didn’t seem to care much for the dead, handed him the body without question. Jungkook took a deep breath, making sure his hands didn’t shake. He carefully moved the body, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

Hours later, the police were called to a new crime scene. It was the same as always—an empty alleyway with the body of a woman found in a position that suggested something far darker than a random attack. The crime scene looked eerily similar to the previous murders, and that’s exactly what Jungkook had hoped for.

His mind worked quickly, placing the body of the pregnant woman at the scene as though she had been the one to kill Mina. The blood trail leading away from her. A few well-placed items. The evidence was there, but just subtle enough to make it believable.

The next day, Jungkook presented the findings to the department. His colleagues seemed to buy it without much question.

The body of the pregnant woman, found near the alley where Mina had been murdered, in her own home, was identified as the suspect. The evidence—though still sparse—was enough to back up the theory he had fabricated.

“I’ve spoken with forensics,” Jungkook said, standing tall as the room buzzed with suspicion. “The blood found near Mina’s body and the scene where this woman was found confirms our theory. This woman, whoever she was, was clearly involved. And she was pregnant, which explains her connection to the killer we’ve been hunting.”

The room fell silent, the officers looking at each other in confusion. But Jungkook pressed on, pushing the narrative with an authoritative tone.

“She was part of the criminal network, no doubt. This is why the killer used her. She was a pawn, an expendable figure, dragged into something much larger.”

“But with her death, we’ve finally identified her role. She’s the one we were after.”

Jungkook’s voice was steady, rehearsed, convincing. He wasn’t just presenting evidence; he was weaving the story.

One of the officers, a sharp-eyed veteran named Park, raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a skeptical look. “Are you sure, Jeon? This all seems… too neat. A little too perfect.”

Jungkook took a breath, pushing his doubts aside. “We have to tie it up. The evidence is there. It explains everything. And it leads us to believe that the killer is someone who knew how to manipulate the situation. A pregnant woman was used to distract us from the true killer.”

He met Park’s gaze, holding it long enough to send the message. There was no going back now. He had to make this work.

•••

After a lot of deliberation, and no further suspicions or clues, Jungkooks lie worked

But there were too many questions now. How far could he go before his lies caught up to him? Would the department ever suspect him, even if they’d closed the case?

And most importantly, how much longer could he keep this secret—his secret—hidden from everyone, especially from Y/N?

With the department’s approval, Jungkook walked away from the case, his mind heavy with the weight of the lies he’d told. But as whenever he looked at Y/N, the mother of his child, he knew that no matter what it took, he would do whatever it took to keep her from being discovered.

The announcement came in later that day: Case #178-C, the Seodaemun Serial Killings, officially closed.

The case was officially closed. The department was satisfied, the investigation wrapped up, and the media was ready to move on to the next headline. Jungkook, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was unraveling. He had used the body of a pregnant woman, a victim in her own right, to save Y/N—and his own conscience.

And now you two, will be together forever, and it will be your own heaven where no one will ever disturb you both and your growing family.

Everything is fair in love and war after to all

And this was both.

The love stored in his heart and the war of his own conscious, and eventually the love for you and his heart lawn over the war in his conscious.

“So you see, yn? Start packing your bags. You’re moving in with me and we’re gonna get married and have a child and live happily ever after.”

He stares at you with a lot of love in his eyes, but there’s something darker and you recognize it because it’s such a familiar look

A look that you often saw in your own mirror.

You kiss him again and smile against his lips.

You will do anything for him and you know now that he will also do anything for you.

Everything was worth it.

He was always worth it.

And he knows for a fact that you’re always gonna be worth it

714 notes · View notes

vampjaeyun · 10 days ago

Text

NETFLIX & CHILL

PAIRING loser!jake x maneater fem!reader | wc: 1.2k

SYNOPSIS “Do you seriously not know the meaning behind ‘Netflix and chill?’”

WARNINGS reader is in heat lmfao, soft jake, dry humping, hickeys

NOTES IF THIS SEEMS FAMILIAR, ITS BECAUSE I WROTE THIS FOR MARK ON MY NCT BLOG!!! I revamped it because I wanted to post something for jake's birthday but I haven't finished the one-shot im writing for him, so enjoy this for now <3

happy late birthday to my side piece, xo

WHAT IS JAKE SIM HERE FOR?

Tapping at your thigh, your impatience grows after every second that passes.

You're not typically this horny or impatient, but to set the scene, you met Jake on the first day of classes. As everyone filed into the auditorium and the professor began rambling, he took the seat alongside yours. Throughout the first week of school, you started talking to him, sharing mutual interests and small talk. You think he's awfully cute. So you went ahead and texted him, wanting to "Netflix and chill" this weekend. Maybe you were being too direct, but the deed had already been done, so you chose to embrace it.

He doesn’t hesitate with a ‘for sure’ text back, not asking further questions or details about your request. You smile at that, itching to explore another side of the cute boy who you see in class.

The day arrives, and he walks over to your flat, smiling affectionately as the door swings open. You both laugh and fond over each other while he cooks dinner and joins you afterward at the dinner table. He's so funny and sweet you realize, finally conversing about things other than school; it influences you to increase your expectations, and you wonder why hookups aren't typically like this.

Now you're both adjacent to each other, your body cuddling up to his side as the movie plays. It's amusing since Jake hasn't made a single move towards you all night. Aside from the arm around your shoulder, he hasn't attempted to sneak his arm any lower. And he hasn't turned to face you since coming in contact with the couch. Perhaps he changed his mind? The movie is almost over, and the line has yet to be crossed. But the voice in the back of your head tells you that just because he didn't plan to tonight doesn't mean he doesn't want to, right? A glimmer of optimism just helps to persuade you more, and once you dig a hole, you only dig deeper.

He laughs at a comedic moment in the film and you find it adorable. He’s so invested and that’s when you finally realize Jake seriously didn’t come here to have sex with you. It’s not his intention at all. His kindness and investment into everything you both did tonight is probably an effort into a full-on date.

But this only made you more horny and attracted to him. Fuck, you want to jump his bones so fucking bad. And shit, you feel terrible because your mind and body are telling you to rip off the bandaid. The pulsing want you have for this man is almost uncomfortable.

You’re cursing yourself but like a bitch in heat you’re already escalating the situation.

“Jake, the movie’s almost over,” you look up at him.

He’s chuckling at your random commentary then looking down at you, “Yeah, it’s almost over.”

“It’s almost over, and I invited you to Netflix and chill,” you pout. Maybe the phrase ‘Netflix and chill’ flew over his head but it couldn’t be. You recall texting him the exact words. There’s no way someone could misinterpret that. Right?

He blinks at you as if he’s unable to process your response.

“Aren’t we doing that right now?” he quirks. Maybe he’s genuinely clueless or the facade is running right past you, but you are fully convinced Jake has no idea about the ulterior motive of the popular phrase.

No one could guess Jake Sim would be the one who doesn’t know this term. Maybe a stereotypical nerd whose internet consumption is strictly educational research. Never judge a book by its cover, they said. But you haven’t fully related to the metaphor until now. Jake Sim’s cover has the term ‘fuckboy’ written all over. Right to the Chrome Hearts hoodie and silver chain that looks like it belongs there.

It’s alarming. So alarming, that you have to sit up from Jake’s side to face him clearly. Your brain is moving at a million miles per minute as you try to grasp the idea of how Jake doesn’t know the popular booty-call slang, head tilted to the side and all.

“Is there something wrong?” he questions. It’s beyond innocent. His wide eyes give away the sincere worry he has and all you want to do is jump his bones.

You smirk, “Do you seriously not know the meaning behind ‘Netflix and chill?’”

He pauses, staring like a deer in headlights, “It has another meaning? What else would it mean?”

“Jakie,” you inch closer to him, so much that your noses brush at the nickname. “You’re so cute,” you utter slowly as you straddle him with one leg on each side of his thighs. Thankfully, you wore a skirt, so the thin panties are the only thing obstructing the feeling of the rough material of his jeans.

The poor boy beneath you flinches as you move so seductively in slow motion. You’re glancing up to gauge his reactions and you swear you see a shadow of darkness in those chocolate orbs. If that wasn’t enough for you to completely lose control, you follow his tongue gliding along his bottom lip and all you want to do is bite his lips until they’re bleeding.

“Why’d you agree to my text, but won’t do just that?” his breath hitches as you slightly move around on him, but it doesn’t have much of an effect because you’re not directly where he needs it most.

“W-what?” he stutters slightly. So cute.

“It means,” you bring your lips to graze his earlobe. “You wanna fuck,” u purr and he freezes at the revelation.

“You wanna fuck while some stupid movie plays in the background,” at this, your hips move directly above his crotch and the weight of your body forces him to groan softly in pleasure.

“It’s j-just an excuse,” You whimper as you move sensually against him. Jake's hooded eyes tenderly glance at you, his erection slowly increasing against his jeans as the scene progresses. Because of his hesitation, his hands have yet to find homage at your hips, and you almost grab them to move them yourself. “You can touch me, you know. Don’t be afraid. I’m all yours,” you rasp, and the boy you’ve been crushing on crumbles underneath your fingertips.

You waste no time chasing more pleasure, continuing to drag your lips against his neck, sucking and biting to leave rosy marks on his flesh. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unknowingly tugging on his locks, only for him to squirm beneath you. His rough hands attempt to steer your hips and it's not quite enough for you to cum, but the zipper rubbing against your clothed clit sends a buzz up your spine, and you moan against his neck.

"Will you do it?" You resume licking a stripe from his collarbone to his jaw. When you notice the overflowing lust painted on his features, you can't help but beam a grin.

"Yes," he gasps at the sensation of your motions against him.

"I'll do it."

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cuntdevil · 25 days ago

Text

★ PRETTY BROWN EYES !

he hoped to swoon you with his gorgeous brown eyes and bright personality ─── never mind the fact that he has a girlfriend.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, takuma ino, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 5,017 words !

╰┈➤ takuma ino & shy student!reader, college!au, infidelity, virgin!reader, yapper!takuma ino, corruption kink, slight public groping, car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pussyjob, creampie, momentary cockwarming, etc.

( anonymous said . . . ) okay, so i was wondering if you could write for takuma ino. the idea was that reader was a shy new student and he immediately becomes obsessed and wants to be with her, but he's currently in a relationship . . . smut with corruption, loss of virginity trope, and some angst . . .

╰┈➤ author's response: i've never written for takuma before so please don't shoot me if you don't feel like the characterization is correct. i was trying to go with possessive while trying to feign like he was a good guy. hopefully you like it because it was a lot of fun writing this fic!

Men are such easy creatures that it’s no wonder that they’re closely compared to animals when it comes to their instincts. A woman can be nice to them once and they’ll take it as a sign that they’re flirting when it can be the very opposite. Takuma always thought of himself as a better man, but he’s proven wrong when you call for attention. Your shadow shields him from the bright lights within the large room, where you didn’t say much to him at all. In a soft voice that barely raised above a whisper, you simply asked, “Is anyone sitting here?”

He could tell that you were a timid thing, just by the way you instinctively crossed your arms, waiting for him to answer. He thought he was a better man for always being respectful, abiding by people’s boundaries and giving women their space. He was a sweet thing and according to his girlfriend, he could make any girl swoon with his pretty brown eyes. Boyish features that are so adorably hot that he could bag any woman he wanted— according to his girlfriend. And he never took her seriously, fanning off her words, but here he is right now, wondering if he could potentially “bag” you. And he should feel guilty, he really should, but he wants to take it as a conquest now. His curiosity gets the best of him as he asks himself, could he?

He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you until you feel a sense of discomfort, squirming at his wandering eyes. “I’ll just— I’ll just go find another seat…”

“Wait! My seat’s—” he blurts in an effort to call out for you, but you ignore him and try to find the next open seat with someone else. He curses under his breath, the professor walking through the door and asking everyone to get in their seats. Takuma slouches as he frowns, his bottom lip jutting out as he spins back in the swivel chair as he opens up his iPad. He knew what his girlfriend said was too bullshit to be true.

The next time Takuma sees you is at the courtyard. He was supposed to be meeting up with his girlfriend for a study session as they share a few classes together under the same major, but you had completely shifted his train of thought that he made a bee line straight towards you instead. Sliding into the vacant seat across from you, he drags your attention away from your laptop and the tupperware of sushi sitting next to it. Your curious eyes quickly turn to a grimace that you best tried to hide when you saw that it was Takuma. “...Hi?”

“Hi,” he responds back in a more chipper tone, though his insides said the very opposite as his heart panged against his chest. “I wanted to apologize about what happened the last time. I was being a creep.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected that, the apology catching you off guard that you didn’t know what to say, but when do you ever? He stared at you with those brown eyes. He was cute, you can’t help but admit, but there’s still something unsettling about him. You’re not quite sure if that’s your anxiety talking or just how he shamelessly sat across you, startling your peace. He had good intentions, though, so you tried your best to not put too much thought into it. At the fact that he has yet to leave, you expect that he’s waiting for your forgiveness. “It’s okay.”

However, to your dismay, he’s getting himself comfortable at your self-acclaimed table for the time being, loosening one of the straps over his shoulder as he slings his backpack onto his lap and unzipping it. He asked no questions on your preference, just making himself comfortable as he pulled out his laptop and set it open on the table. His eyes glancing over at you periodically. “Hey, what’s your major? I don’t really recognize you… but then, this is a large campus, so maybe we’re just running into each other this year.”

Should I answer him? The question rang inside your head over and over, a heavy rise in your chest coming to stand as you felt at a loss of breath. He was only trying to be nice, you figured. And it didn’t hurt to be nice back, your inner monologue reminding you. “I’m a… transfer student.”

His eyes brightened at that, eyebrows rising at the newfound information. “A transfer student, oh really?”

He went on like that for the next hour until you saw a figure coming in your direction. A girl with shoulder-length hair that shimmered from a black to a blue. Piercing brown eyes that seemed deadlier than Medusa the moment they landed on her boyfriend before her eyes found yours. They shone of unfamiliarity before they sparked to anger, her perfectly threaded eyebrows knitted together before stomping towards the both of you. “Ino, what are you doing here?”

Face contorting into confusion, Takuma turns around in his seat. Having forgotten all about his girlfriend, he nearly jumps out of his seat at the sight of her. His first instinct is to reach for the phone, the quick glance leading him to curse. “Fuck. Kazua, I’m so sorry… I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” In a flash, the young man— Kazua— brushes her boyfriend off. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You could’ve sworn you heard her say, I probably wouldn’t have gotten a thing done with you there anyway. She shoots you a nasty glare as she storms away, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Takuma doesn’t hesitate to run after her, but his footsteps stagger as he takes a second to look back at you. His movement stops, where his feet shuffle and he’s unsure what to do. It takes him a moment to muster out a “sorry!” before rushing after the angered girl to explain his side of the story. Which turned out useless as Kazua had given Ino the silent treatment— this time, he’s not sure how long for.

Takuma realizes that he really doesn’t have much charm to him in ways that other men have. He learns this through every interaction that he has with you in comparison to every other guy that’s come to approach you. From what he sees, they’re flirting with you — your eyes would light up and you would smile politely as they slid in the seat next to you. They’d spark up a bit of conversation and actually get more than an ounce of words out of you. Every time he approaches you, there’s a grimace in your eyes. Or, maybe it’s all in his head.

He never notices how you’ve come to make space for him when he approaches. Simply sliding in the seat across from you and talking your ear off. He doesn’t pay attention when you’re starting to pay a bit more attention, your hums of ‘mhm’ are soft, but still a tell-tale sign that you have been listening— that you are listening. And if he had been truly paying attention, he’d notice the small twinkle in your eyes whenever he’s near and the way your lips curve upwards when he says something interesting or humorous. He’s so caught up in his nerves that he’s blinded by anxiety.

It catches him off guard when he finds you perched at the far corner of the bar, barely noticeable if he hadn’t known you. A bar well-frequented by students of the university, Takuma liked to come here particularly after his Friday classes in the evenings to blow off a little steam. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, it was as if you had miraculously appeared there the moment his vision cleared. It was a perplexing sight because he’d never take you for someone to go to bars. However, there you sit, dressed in a spaghetti-strapped top and a denim skirt that falls a few inches below your ass.

There’s a shred of confidence that rises within Takuma then as he walks up to you. And he falls into routine, grabbing the vacant stool right next to you. The legs scrape the ground and make you jump in fright. Turning your head, your glare quickly turns into a gaze of familiarity, smiling when you see Takuma. “Oh, hi!”

This time he doesn’t miss the sparkle in your gaze. Have you always been looking at him that way?

Truthfully, while this had been a Friday night where he’d have come to the bar, he had another reason to be here. His girlfriend had finally messaged him, wanting to speak about things from their short break. And usually, when this arose, he wouldn’t hesitate to meet her here, but now that he was, he didn’t feel any hope in their relationship anymore. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, but he ignored its small tickle as he was completely transfixed on you. “I didn’t peg you as someone who goes to bars.”

“I’m not,” you admit. “But I needed to get out of my dorm room… and my roommate was having some guy over.”

Takuma laughs. “The roommate kicking you out sounds more like what happened.”

You nudge him, despite the bemusement in your eyes. From finding him to be a small nuisance to accepting and genuinely enjoying his presence, you’re grateful that Takuma had shown up tonight. You had felt so out of place and your drink tasted horrible. However, you didn’t want to ask for another and waste it. It wasn’t your first time at a bar, but your first time at one alone. While you were one who enjoyed solitude, the bar wasn’t one of those places where you typically sought it. You felt stupid for coming here. Now, Takuma washed away all of those nerves.

Time washed away to something nonexistent. Takuma had ordered you something that tasted sweeter, better than your other drink. He spoke up for you when you were afraid to do it for yourself, and as the night had gotten later, he had grown more handsy with you. A subtle shift in him that you left unquestioned when you felt his hand touch your thigh, him scooting a tad bit closer to you, his legs unparting yours. He continued talking to you, eyes never deterring away from yours and you couldn’t help yourself from the captivation they held.

Was this what they called liquid courage? You asked yourself. You hadn’t had much of either drinks, an unfamiliarity swirling inside of you as you weren’t aware whether the attraction you felt towards him was genuine or what you’ve had to drink. These emotions had been sweltering inside of you for a while, but what makes now so different? Why does this patter in your heartbeat feel more distinct than the rest?

Is it the hand that continues to be so daring as he leans closer to you, invading your personal space? How he remains so nonchalant, continuously sporting that boyish charm he possesses while he talks to you. Your skirt’s risen up significantly from its original length, and the lights have dimmed to the point where no one can really detect his movement. They can’t really see how he’s gotten his hand slotted against your inner thigh, creeping closer to what he so desires right now.

He’s stopped talking at some point, but you can’t tell when. Fingers prodding at your clothed pussy, running smooth and tandem circles right against your clit as he watches you try to keep your composure. Your posture’s become slumped, breath becoming more jagged when he applies more pressure. He has to hop down from the stool to pull yours closer, making the wood touch each other as he’s given you no time to react. Your heart simply races as you come to gasp. He tastes sweet, but you’re even sweeter. Sweeter than he’s imagined.

Nights where he’s spent thinking about you instead of Kazua, concealing his moans and breathy grunts as his fist is wrapped around himself. Oh, how his cock leaked deplorably to the thought of you underneath him. How he’d love to be sheathed inside of your pussy for hours on end, rutting inside of you until your sweet cunt ached and only begged for him. The smell of him was so pungent that the next day, his roommate didn’t need to hear him to know what transpired during his slumber.

You were such a cute and quiet little thing that managed to get him so worked up, that he wanted to do the same for you. He should’ve felt ashamed the moment the bartender had interrupted, asking the both of them to leave, the moment things became too obvious. His cheeks should’ve reddened like how grew flustered and didn’t want to look anyone in the face on your way out, but he felt so accomplished within himself that he couldn’t.

You let him lead you to his car, the small silver automobile that was parked not too far from the entrance. His mind led him to contemplate, to wonder what he should do to you, where exactly should he bring you to, but the moment he heard the click of his doors open, he grabbed your hand and let his cock do the thinking for him. You landed on the leather seats with a thud and a yelp falling from your lips, Takuma hoisting you further inside by the hips as he didn’t hesitate to reattach his lips against you.

Your skirt no longer covered your ass, hiked up so high that it was around your waist now, your bare legs ready for the taking. The heat of his hands travel up and down your thighs, your moans sounding in the car. The moment you feel his erection ground against your core does this all feel too real. Your breath quickens, but not in its haughty need but with anxiousness as a lump starts to form. Suddenly, you’re not kissing him anymore, finding the strength within you to push him off. It has him taken aback, pulling away in concern. That hunger slowly dissipates as he searches for the problem. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I—” You diverted eye contact, finding entertainment in the back of the front seats instead as you struggled to let your confession out. When you do, it’s below a whisper, hard for Takuma to hear with the sounds of the bustling night, but he catches it— “I’m a virgin.”

It should be shameful for the way he felt jovial at the confession. Something that felt so embarrassing for you to admit was something that ignited something deep inside of him. It made him realize that he truly was no better than any other man with the way his cock stirred and how suffocating the air felt even more for you. Those beautiful brown hues within his pupils pool with a darkness that’s so carnal that it has you shrinking within his hold. “Ta—Takuma?”

He snaps out of it, leaving that headspace and returning back to normal. He gets it now — why guys find it so hot to be with a virgin. That feeling of superiority and power over someone so innocent. Gosh, he should’ve expected it. Everything about you screams the word itself. He brings himself to smile, his pearly whites seeming to dazzle in the dim lights of the street lamps shining inside the vehicle windows. Your eyes— those pretty pretty eyes look up at him with concern, but his smile makes it all go away as he utters out, “That’s fine. I’ll take good care of you.”

His fingers are back to prodding at your panties, pretty pink cotton with a wet patch right at the center. He can feel your arousal bubble at every press of his thumb against your clit, rubbing circles and the infinity symbol into you. You’ve a God-given gift bestowed to him. A blessing you truly are to be splayed underneath for the taking. You moan, every action causing a reaction as you buck your hips, begging for more. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and to his skin, tugging him closer to you. You can’t think straight. There’s an ache in your back, pressed deep against the leather of the seats and the tight space is all too much.

When you imagined this moment, you never imagined it in the back seat of a car, but you want this. You’ve convinced yourself of this and so have those eyes of his. You feel no shame anymore when he parts your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb pushing deep against you. Your juices seep from you, coating his digit in your delicacy as he goes up and down, up and down, up and down. Your inner thighs quiver, the feeling of someone’s touch much better than your own.

He’s gentle— for the most part. He’d nip at your pump bottom lips, making them swell when he sucks at it. He marks up your skin, creating deep and dark blotches on your flesh that are too high up to be hidden with a shirt. And now that his index and middle finger have entered the mix, teasing the entrance of your sweet cunt, he’s ready to bully your insides with them in his greedy attempts to take care of you.

He tells you, “gotta stretch you out,” when you whine. When in truth, he’s gluttonous for the sounds that you make. How, your voice gets all high-pitched and your nails dig past the fabric and more into his skin that it’s enough to bruise. However, he’ll be bashful to wake up to them.

“Ah, Takuma!” you cry out, back arching against the seats as your chest presses into his. Bottom lip still caged by him, he bites down harshly against them and causes you to mewl out in pain. Slowly do those moans become whimpers as he batters your poor pussy with his fingers and the gnawing of his teeth against your supple flesh. It feels like a mockery when he sees you crying, cooing at you ever-so-gently as he asks, “Aww, why are you crying? I’m giving you what your pussy needs.”

He comes to kiss them away, detaching himself from your lips to taste the salt of your tears and further soothing you with gentle kisses that contrast the drilling of his fingers. He fucks you with those two simple digits, ignoring the way your legs would flex and contract, squirming against his hold. The discomfort of the car soon went on ignored from the immense amount of pleasure, your slick drooling down his fingers as they twisted and twirled inside of you.

A euphoric dance the two of you partnered in. It never slows down until that knot inside your stomach starts to form, a twinkle of light sparking deep inside of you as your walls pulsate around Takuma and you’re stammering out on your words. “Ino, it feels s–so good… Please, I think ‘m about’ta—”

“Yeah, yeah…” he chuckles. “I know.”

You cream all over his fingers, your body instinctively rolling your hips in efforts to feel the way you do now. He finds you beautiful like this, face contorted in immense pleasure as you gasp out an ‘Oh.’ And fuck, it’s so hot how you paint his digits in a white, that he ruts against the car seat, bashfully tasting your release. His pupils dilate, humming in delight as he presses himself down further into the seats. You’re forced to watch in awe, not that you’re complaining, bucking your hips upward in a silent plea for more of Takuma.

“God, you’re just perfect, aren’t you?” he breathes, not wasting another second with his cock concealed in his jeans. Within the tight confines of the car, Takuma shimmies out of his pants, pulling his underwear down along with it. You’ve maneuvered yourself to lean against the car door, your elbows helping you hold your weight up as you watch Takuma’s cock spring free from the tight fixtures of his pants. It’s pretty, just like him— sporting an average length and exceeding in girth. His uncut tip leaks of arousal, twitching in the stuffy car air as it wants nothing more but to feel your tight walls cage him inside.

He bet it's nothing like his girlfriend’s. He already knows that you’re sweeter than his girlfriend’s. Your moans are even prettier and more sultry than hers. Because you have something against her, an innocence that still ties you down. And unlike his girlfriend, he’ll be the first to break it. Kazua was always straightforward, never wanting to engage in any foreplay. Never would sex last long with her, but with you? He can take his time.

Precum continues to leak from him, his mushroom head glistening in his arousal as he spreads it. So sensitive from its neglect, he hisses when he touches it. His fingers cold as he wraps his fist around it, giving it a few pumps before hovering more over you. It’s dark outside, minus the street lamps illuminating its light inside of the car. Fortunately, no one has come to see them inside. Takuma can see how your pussy still shines from your orgasm, your pussy lips parted with your creamy essence as you occasionally clench around nothing.

His thumb has become familiar with you, pressing into your hole and eliciting a twitch from your body. He grabs your leg, a hearty grip on it as he drags you down without warning. You squeal, heart racing as your head hits the leather. Your eyes widen as both of his hands meet your hips to make the both of you further connect. He’s got your legs wrapped around him as he plays with your panties, pulling it back and letting it snap against your pussy. He watches how you flinch when it harshly makes contact with your clit, the slight jump making his cock do the same.

With his length slotted in between your legs, he moves himself perfectly in between your folds. The pressure of his cock maneuvered in between them, alleviating an ache that was there but never to its fullest degree as you still anticipate for more. For that pop of your cherry. However, he teases you and ultimately himself. With the way he presses his tip right at your clit, letting them kiss whenever he glides upwards.

“Please…Ino…” You beg, feeling ready for him, like you could take this big leap within your sexuality, you arch your back upwards and press it against him more. The fabric of your top and the friction of both of your chests against each other, tickling the dark nubs of your nipples and overstimulating you even further. You whine and whimper out in need, trying to pull him down and coax with the sensualness of your actions. But to no avail, he holds some restraint over himself. He wants to see how messy that pussy can get— just for him.

Your slick drools and stains his seats, but he can’t be mad at you. How could he when he’s the cause of all of this? Outside the scene of a noisy Friday night, Takuma can hear how sloppy and loud your cunt is, how your juices sound from the motions of his cock pressed against you. The two of you is all that can be heard, yours and his wanton moans and the wet sound of your tantalizing cunt painting his cock in all that is you. It makes it all the sweeter when he finally prods at your entrance, the head of his cock barely stretching it out before you’re tensing up all nervously.

He tries his best to console you, tries telling you that you’re in the best of care, but who is he kidding when all he wants to do is ruin you. But, he still does, hushing out your nervous cries as you hold onto him so tightly.

“Shhh…” he draws out. “You’re in good hands here—” Slowly, he enters you, careful enough not to scare you away, but still rough enough to where you’re shedding more tears than necessary. Yet, you convince yourself that it’s all part of the process, that truthfully, Takuma didn’t find pleasure in your pain. Part of it is true when the boy can’t make himself go any further the moment that he’s fully sheathed inside of you, waiting until he feels the hammer in your heart die down and until the grip on the back of his neck loosens and those pretty pretty eyes, all teary for him, finally blinks back open and a gentle nod gives him the okay he needs to keep going.

It’s a pain that stings you at first, filled with nothing but discomfort the more he rocks his hips. But that same pain dissipates moments later, camouflaging itself with pleasure as your legs tense around him and captures him closer to you. When you cry his name, it’s no longer from the pain in your voice, but a plea for more, an approval to his ego that he’s been successful.

The rock of his car is finally the tell-tale sign that calls for people’s attention, the fog within the glass being evident to what’s happening inside. Some people hurry off in disgust, heading straight to their destination without looking back, others lingering as they find out a new kink about themselves, arousal pooling inside of their pants as well. Through all the commotion outside of the bar as people enter the establishment, whispering about it in disgust, it calls for Kazua’s attention as she’s grown mighty impatient about her boyfriend. He has never been late to the bar, but then again, he’s never been late to a study date.

The past weeks he’s been occupied with that damn person that she never bothered learning the name of, simply looking at them and finding visceral disgust with them. It only made Kazua more upset at how Takuma wasn’t running to her anymore, pleading for forgiveness. No, he had found company in someone that wasn’t her. It made her furious. Furious enough to where she wanted to break up with him, but also not enough where she had the energy to.

Standing from her seat around the bar, in the far corner where you previously were— with said boyfriend— Kazua calls it a night, pulling out her phone to text Takuma and tell him off and vent about how he’s such an asshole, but the whispers of some stranger before her called her attention before she clicked send.

“They’re fucking disgusting,” a feminine voice scoffed in disgust. “Fucking like that in the parking lot— it’s not even empty!”

“Yeah, like, have some decorum and try to find somewhere more secluded at least,” their friend agrees, chiming in. “I don’t get people and their kinks these days. They’ve lost the art of shame.”

More and more people come in, speaking on the same subject, naming that the disgusting culprits aren’t too far from here. As a matter of fact, they’re a couple of steps away. In the pit of her stomach, Kazua has a feeling— a feeling that it could possibly be the man she’s been stood up by. However, she tries to convince herself that it was her nerves, her brain playing tricks on her. Nonetheless, she walks through the front door of the bar, eyes looking down both sides of the parking lot before she spots some passers-by, who just so happen to be pausing by a vehicle. They try to squint, peeping inside before they give up.

Kazua squirms as she tries to decipher if she should seem like a perverted prick or if she should let ignorance, in fact, be a bliss. However, her feet move for her involuntarily as she clutches herself in the chill of the night. The streetlamps overhead illuminate, brightening itself on the all too familiar vehicle that belongs to her boyfriend— Takuma.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at this feeling of bliss, back no longer on the bottom of the seats as Takuma plunges within you with all of his strength. You’ve exceeded his expectations, proving better than his wet dreams about you as he fucks into your pussy in delight. His moans become louder than yours as he bashfully meets your pelvis with his. Your slick, copious amounts pour from out of you, dripping between the crevice of your ass. That familiar coil in your stomach returns once more, a reminder of what’s to come.

“Ino,” you cry, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Fuuuuckkk, I’m about’ta—”

He kisses you, swallowing your warning whole as well as your moans. He feels his cock twitch inside of you, his pace slowing when he pulls away. “Shit, me, too. Fuck, fuckin’ cum with me. Please.”

You nod, a high-pitched ‘mhm’ falling from you as your mouth goes dry. You clench around him, locking his cock to you as your pussy creates rings around the base of him. Simultaneously, you milk him dry, your pussy swallowing every bit of his release until it’s forced out and dripping down. The both of you pant from exhaustion, Takuma stilling his actions as he’s buried deep inside of you still.

Those brown eyes of his. They look into yours with glee, the corners of the glistening as he smiles. One last chaste kiss he plants, gently gnawing down on your bottom lips as he’s about to fall against you. However, before he could do so, he heard heavy pounding against the glass. It calls for the both of you to sit up, desperately gasping for air as the two of you immediately suspect the police. However, the feminine voice that rings out in anger halts the male more than it does you. “Takuma!” Kazua yells from the outside, calling even more attention to the both of them now. “You better open up this door right now!”

( author's note. ) please let me know what you thought in the comments. i was a bit nervy writing this uwu.

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