#Earn money while studying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bizarrelovetriangel · 1 month ago

Text

company.

they're busy with something so you decided to give them some company, along with a little motivation to finish faster.

mdni. 18+ only. cockwarming. that's it that's the plot.

- sylus -

He has a new fancy toy that he'd won from an auction, and now you have a rival that you must fight for his attention. At the moment, you're absolutely not winning.

Sylus is polishing a gun while admiring every aspect of it, his eyes practically twinkling with excitement.

You're starting to get impatient and maybe just a little jealous. After all, he promised you that you'd watch a movie together once he's done.

It wouldn't hurt to give him some... encouragement to hurry up, right?

and so, you sat on his lap.

"What are you doing?"

Sylus questions you despite doing absolutely nothing to stop you from taking a seat on his thighs. In fact, he welcomed you by opening his arms wider just so you could have more space to be more comfortable.

"Nothing, just wanna watch you assemble~"

He took note of your tone and immediately grew suspicious. "What are you scheming, kitten?"

"Nothing, I said." you grabbed his chin and gently nudged his face so that his gaze returns to the disassembled gun on the desk in front of him. "Don't let me distract you. Just pretend I'm not here."

He narrowed his eyes at you for a second before continuing his work, humming a song and bopping his head while doing so.

You smiled as you listened to him, beaming his reflection on the shiny silver gun.

You leaned forward closer to the surface of the desk so that you could get a better look at the details of the weapon that he's so infatuated with.

You shifted your weight a little to the left so you could study the complex engravings at a better angle.

After moving around to observe the other angles, you realized that it's most likely part of a vintage collection. Its charm is indeed worth all the money that Sylus casually spent it on.

"...Enjoying yourself, sweetie?"

For a moment, you'd forgotten why you were there in the first place. It wasn't until you heard a grunt from behind you that you were reminded of your little evil plan.

"I am, actually."

As you replied, you subtly pressed down your ass against his crotch, earning a sharp breath out of him.

Sylus paused on polishing his weapon.

"What's wrong?" you asked, feigning innocence. "You still have a lot of parts to polish. Hurry up already."

"If you need something from me, don't hesitate to ask." he tells you in a low voice, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I'd gladly give you want you want."

"No no, it's fine. You should finish what you started. You said you want to use it tomorrow, right?" you waved a hand dismissively. "I want to watch you polish and assemble this. Like I said, just pretend I'm not here."

Sylus shook his head, already catching on to your grand plan.

But he's absolutely not complaining.

You sitting on his lap while he fiddles with his new weapon? It's certainly not the worst thing in the world. He doesn't mind multitasking.

Taking advantage of your gracious offer, Sylus proceeds with his work.

You continued to grind against him, doing your best to be subtle.

It wasn't long until your seat becomes uncomfortable due to a stiffened bulge in his pants.

His warm, ragged breath hits your neck as he takes a moment to collect himself, hands slightly wavering as he puts down his tools before reaching for you.

One hand settled on your stomach while the other caressed your right thigh. As you leaned back against his chest, you were surpised as he captured your lips with his.

Your right hand went up to his jaw to keep him in place as you kissed him back with twice the force, inviting him to meet your tongue.

He groans inside your mouth as your ass once again brushed against his clothed cock, twitching and demanding for your attention — so you give him what he wants.

You unzip his pants and stroke him through his boxers, emitting a moan out of his parted lips. Sylus pulled away from you and rested his forehead against your own, briefly brushing his nose against yours.

"Should we take this somewhere else?"

His eyes caught the grin that appeared on your face and he just knew no good would come out of your pretty mouth.

"But you still have to finish fixing your gun. Just....keep going..." you pressed a soft kiss underneath his jaw. "I'll...keep you company."

Sylus knew exactly what you meant when your hand tightly wrapped around his cock, now leaking with desire for you.

As if in a trance, he watched you pull down your shorts up to your knees and moved your panty aside before brushing his cock against your folds.

His hold on your thigh had become tighter as soon as you fully took him inside you once you sat back down on his lap. Sylus closed his eyes and lightly nipped your shoulder to suppress a groan out of pleasure.

Even though this feels like some sort of punishment, he'll be lying if he says he's not enjoying it. As long as it's you, he'll gladly do anything you want and take anything that you offer.

Returning your grin, Sylus redirected his focus on his weapon. If he wants to move in the bedroom and properly take you, he has to work faster.

But it was a lot more difficult than he realized.

Sylus can't help but thrust into you as he became desperate for friction.

You're squeezing him so tightly.

He needed to move so badly.

"Sweetie...." beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and neck. "Are you sure you're comfortable here? Wouldn't you want to move somewhere else?"

"I'm fine."

Of course you aren't fine.

You're just as impatient as him, and it's taking all of your energy to appear nonchalant just like he is. You've become so wet that you're oozing out even with his cock in you.

But you really did want him to finish polishing his gun now so that you can have the rest of his time.

"Just hurry up already."

Sylus almost laughed at how whiny yet demanding you sounded just now. He would've teased you if only he wasn't just as needy.

All he could do was nod and rush his work, while simultaneously making sure the quality of his weapon is sufficient.

After polishing every piece, Sylus expertly put everything together. He might've slowed down once or twice as you'd clench his cock and his vision would blur as he'd lose his focus, but he managed to power through until the end.

And once you finally made it to his bedroom, Sylus' patience ran out as soon as the door was shut and locked.

He gently nudges you against the door and kisses you deeply while his hands caresses your body. He unbuttons and unzips his pants before pulling it down along with his boxers to reveal his reddened cock that's even bigger and harder now than before.

You eagerly got rid of your shorts and underwear. Before you could remove your shirt, Sylus latched back into you, spreading your legs and wrapping your thighs around his hips before thrusting back and forth.

Noticing the loud noises that the door would make as he pounds into you, he took a few steps back from it before bouncing you up and down his cock.

You cry out with pleasure, throwing your head back as he hits the deepest part of you, over and over again, making your insides clench and pulsate.

He lightly sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck as he reaches his climax, with heavy cum spilling out of you and staining the floor.

Your own release followed a few seconds later, soaking his thighs as he brings you over to his bed. He positions himself between your legs, aligning his mouth in the middle of your thighs.

"Since you were so thoughtful in giving me company while I worked...." he pauses to playfully flick your forehead. "I'm yours for the rest of the night."

- zayne -

Poor Docctor Zayne is stuck in his home office, finishing up a report for his latest research project.

You also have a report to do for the Association, so you decided to join him just so he could have company. After all, you haven't seen each other for two days now.

"Zayne, I got you some snacks."

As you arrived, you set some food and drink on a separate table specifically used for snack breaks.

Zayne's eyes lights up as soon as you walked in. He grabbed your hand and pulled you down so that he could give you a kiss on the lips.

"Is it okay if I join you here? I also have work to do." Being around Zayne might motivate you to finish faster, or at least procrastinate less than you usually do.

"Of course."

It's not the first time you worked with him in his office, so there's an extra chair just for you to use; however, Zayne realized just now how far away it is from him.

It's placed behind his other desk that he rarely uses, perpendicular from the one he's currently using.

Not even five minutes after you started typing, Zayne called out your name.

"Why are you sitting so far away? Scared I'll look at your screen? I promise I won't copy from you."

You laughed and scooted your chair next to his. "I don't mind letting you copy from me, Doctor Zayne."

Soon, the two of you fell in a comfortable silence except for the sounds of your fingers clicking against the keyboard, as well as the pages of Zayne's books being turned occasionally.

Sometimes, you'd mumble something as you're typing, and Zayne would smile in amusement, fond of the way you're fully immersed in your work.

After a decent amount of time has passed, you cheer as you concluded your report. "All I have to do is edit it for the final draft!" you got up to stretch and stopped in front of Zayne. "What about you? Still have a lot to do?"

"I'm almost done as well. Just reviewing a reference before I get to my last page."

Zayne pauses from his work as he noticed how close you are.

He rested his hands on your waist, urging you to face him. "Why don't you move a little closer?"

"Huh? But my chair's already right next to yours—"

He then gently nudged you forward and adjusted your legs so that you're sitting on his lap and facing the computer.

"Let's just stay like this for a while."

You softened as Zayne embraced you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. He took your laptop and placed it right next to his so that you two can continue your work.

You suppressed a smile, realizing that he wants cuddles.

You'll never deny cuddles from him.

"Okay!"

About halfway through editing your report, you realizes that there was something hard growing behind you.

"Zayne..."

You look over your shoulder and spotted his flushed expression, with his red ears being the biggest giveaway.

"...sorry, I was just — "

He couldn't help himself.

Having you so close...

His mind started to wander not long after you sat on him. Images of the last time you were on his thighs flashed through his head, and his body reacted immediately.

"No need to apologize."

You run a hand down from his chest and down to his crotch. Zayne closed his eyes and sighs softly as you palm him through his pants.

Then, your hands come to a halt and he gives you a concerned, questioning look.

"You still need to finish your work."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "You're right. Can't get distracted..."

You grinned at the disappointment that briefly flashed through his eyes. "I'll just... make you feel good while you work, so stay focused, okay?"

"Wha — nggnnh!" Zayne's reply gets cut off by his own moan as you grind your ass against his cock. His chest pressed against your back and his hands darted to your thighs, encouraging you to keep going.

His fingers made their way to the zipper of your pants, silently asking for your permission. In return, you held his hand and assisted him in pulling your zipper down and undoing the button right above it.

You lifted your hips so that he could pull your pants down before unzipping his own pants to free his cock from his boxers.

Kissing his lips, you moved his hands back on the desk before slowly sinking down on him, his cock nestled deep inside you.

Zayne groans at the tightness that enveloped him. His forehead rests on your back while he takes a second to steady his breath.

"Zayne..." you moved his hands towards his keyboard. "Keep working, you're almost done~"

He narrowed his eyes at your sly grin. "You..."

You only patted his cheeks in response before putting your attention to your own laptop to continue editing your work.

You heard a defeated sigh before Zayne continued with his research paper.

You made sure to move your hips every once in a while, drawing out moans and sharp breaths out of him. You enjoyed the way his hands would freeze every time you grind yourself against his cock, which would then twitch in response.

Only after a few minutes, Zayne's typing increased speed. You're impressed with the way he never mispelled a single word.

His focus intensified by a tenfold.

Not once did his hips move.

Not until he was fully done with the report.

Only after he closed his laptop did he touch you.

He stood up and put you down on he desk after moving everything aside.

"Now that I've finished my work early, don't you think I deserve a reward?" he asked, running a hand from your knee to your thigh.

You smiled and pulled him closer, clutching the collars of his shirt. "Of course. Anything you want."

"In that case..."

His mouth devours yours and he parted your legs wider before standing between them. He stroke his cock a few times, spreading his pre-cum on the rest of his length before aligning his tip with your core.

Before pushing himself in you, Zayne rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, causing you to mewl against his tongue.

Zayne didn't waste much time after gently easing into you. His hips began to move back and forth while his hands grips your waist, making sure your body doesn't get pushed back from how hard he was thrusting.

Your hands are pressing down on his shoulders, eyes on his chest that you exposed after partly unbuttoning his shirt.

You fixed his the glasses that threatened to fall from his face before his lips dove to your neck to leave a trail of hot, wet kisses on your skin.

His pace picks up by the minute as he grows desperate for release. Sweat drips from his forehead and neck as his movement loses control. You were gasping for air as he thrusted harder, knocking down a few trinkets on his desk.

Zayne suddenly pulls out right before ropes of cum splashes you in the chest. His hand rubs his sensitive cock as he continues to empty himself out, hips stuttering while he grunts loudly, unable to hold himself back, especially when your own climax came not too long after.

As the two of you took a moment to catch your breath, Zayne took your hands and gave your knuckles a soft kiss.

"That was... quite a special way to encourage me to finish my work faster, although I can't say it wasn't effective. I'll make sure to remember your technique so I can do the same to you next time."

"...what did you say?!"

Zayne smiled and pecked your forehead. "Shall we go take a shower before dinner?"

- caleb -

Usually, he'd drop whatever he's doing and give you his undivided attention — but not today. In his living room, Caleb is assembling a complex model for a newly designed plane.

It's not like you had any plans in particular, so you didn't mind. You're quite intrigued with the way he's so focused on putting the figure together.

The tiny pieces give satisfying clicks as Caleb attaches them together, all while his eyes are narrowed and brows are furrowed. You always love at his concentration face.

Though, you've broken his concentration for a second as he briefly paused to face you. "Bored, Pip-squeak?"

"Not really. I like watching you build your little plane."

Caleb laughs as he's reminded of the past. You always did have a habit of observing him whenever he's building something, whether it be legos or school projects.

"Why don't you come over here and help me with it? Once we're finished, we can go to the park and have that basketball shooting challenge that you insist we have. Then, we can go eat after. Deal?"

You grinned and sat next to him, kneeling down on the floor and facing the center table. "Deal."

"Not there."

Caleb wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you right on his lap.

"Here is better."

The way his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered caused your face to heat up but you kept your gaze on the figure.

"Wait, you've been doing this with no instructions?!" you looked around the table and saw that there's a folded paper still inside the box that the pieces of this figure came from.

"Oh, I forgot about the instructions." Caleb uses his evol to summon the paper and place it in front of you. "That would make this waaay easier. Good idea, Pip-squeak."

"Hmph. Assembling this thing without instructions.... what a show-off."

Caleb chuckles. "I'm used to building plane models, that's all. Even though this one has a different design, the base is still pretty much the same."

"Show-off."

You moved your hips a little so that you could be more comfortable as you start to lock in for the project.

You're not a genius like Caleb, but at the very least, you can assemble pieces of a spaceship. It's just like playing with legos, but for adults. How hard could it be?

Three minutes later...

"This looks just like that other piece!"

"That one goes to the left wing. It's three millimeters smaller than the other one, which goes on here instead."

Caleb leans forward, chest pressing against your back so that he could help you with the pieces that you were getting confused with.

"Tch. Show-off."

Five minutes later, you're getting the hang of it. Of course, you're following every step of the instructions, while Caleb continued to assemble without it.

Although, just now, his hands suddenly froze just as he picked up a piece for the plane's tail.

At last, you caught him struggling.

"Heh. Does the genius need instructions now?"

You smirked as you looked over your shoulder, only to see his face flush and forehead slightly sweating. His lips are parted apart, taking quiet deep breaths, and his eyes have darkened as his pupils dilate.

"Caleb? Are you — "

"Ngggnnhh... don't... move..."

"What? Why?"

Twitch.

You got a respond not from his mouth, but from another part of his body down below, right where you're sitting.

"Oh."

Caleb embraces you and buries his face against your neck while he slowly moves his hip upwards, desperate for friction.

You grind back to him and reached a hand back to feel his hardened cock through his sweatpants. He lets out a quiet whine and slides his fingers to your thighs, sneaking up your soft skirt.

As he whispers your name, Caleb's finger toys with the fabric of your panty that's covering your core, making your insides clench with arousal.

You kissed him softly while he pulls down your underwear, hiding it in his pocket rather than letting it fall to the carpet.

You then take a moment to tug on the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. Caleb lifts up his hips so you could remove them, though he gave you a questioning glance when he noticed that you didn't fully get rid of them.

"Caleb..."

You slowly caressed his face and gave him another kiss before taking his cock and sinking down on him.

Moaning against your lips, he didn't waste a second before thrusting up, sliding in and out of you while holding onto your hips.

"Wa — ah, wait, Caleb..."

He stops immediately. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, no not at all". you gave him a reassuring smile, which soon turned into a grin that had him gulping nervously. "I was just gonna say... we should finish assembling your plane first."

"What...?" he looks at you with disbelief. "But..." his cock twitched once again, reminding you of his current state. "You..... are doing this on purpose...." he spoke slowly, breath hitching as he tries to restrain himself from rutting into you. "Teasing me like this...."

"I don't know what you mean. I just want you to finish your super cool model."

He detected the playfulness in your tone. "Just wait till I'm done..." he warns in a deep tone before his hand goes back to the separate pieces of the model.

He grunts under his breath as he feels you clenching on his cock, which was growing while buried in you.

"You're not... making this easy... at all..."

He's using up all his strength to not move, meanwhile you're torturing him by shifting ever so slightly once every few minutes.

You bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a grin as you watch Caleb mess up a few times, mind clearly frazzled.

"You can do it~" you cheered with encouragement, wrapping one arm around his neck.

Caleb lets out a shaky exhale as you once again rock against his thighs. "I thought you were supposed to be helping me so we could finish faster, Pip-squeak?"

"I'll let you take over and do the easier stuff. I'm... busy."

He lets out a noise that was a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff, something that you hear often whenever you're teasing him.

Caleb continues to mess up a few more times as he hurriedly puts the pieces of the plane model together.

But once he puts the final piece, he lets out a sigh of relief. "Done."

You patted his head. "Good boy."

Not a second later after your praise, you felt his cock twitch again.

Caleb re-adjusted your figure and urged you to turn around and face him, all while remaining on his lap.

"So, do I get my reward now?"

"And what does my genius pilot want as a reward?"

He wrapped his arms around your back and held you close. The bridge of his nose brush against yours as his lips hovered on your own. "Just you."

You closed the distance between your mouths and let your tongue collide with his while your hips began to move in circles.

"Ah — slow down.... I'm gonna — "

Caleb ended up coming quicker than usual, shooting all of his cum inside you.

He was already close to exploding just having you sit on his cock, so as soon as you started to move, his body couldn't take it.

But he's not done with you yet.

Caleb carried you over to the couch and got on top of you before getting rid of the rest of his clothes. He stroke himself while gazing at you, cock stiffening again.

Without giving himself much time to recover, he entered you and pounded hard. His hands slipped inside your shirt to pull it up and remove it off you, then he unclasped your bra and slid it to the floor before putting your left breast in hie mouth.

His tongue flicks against your nipple before giving the same attention to your right breast, groaning against your mounds as a wave of ecstasy struck him, causing him to pick up his pace in going in and out of you.

Your body arches as the tip of his cock hits the deepest part of you. Hissing with pleasure, your hips stutter and your legs tightened around his hips right before reaching your climax.

Caleb didn't dare to slow down.

He's close.

So close.

Just a little more...

You shut your eyes and gasped for air, feeling as if you're drowning as he hammers into you. As your cunt tightened even more, Caleb pulls out and his orgasm splatters all over your stomach, crying out with pleasure.

Caleb's face drops down to your chest and listens to your fast beating heart as the two of you catch your breaths. His body relaxes on top of yours, and you enjoy the feeling of his weight pressing down on you.

Your left hand brushes through his hair on the back of his head.

"Wait, are we still gonna play basketball?"

Caleb laughs at your sudden question. "As long as you don't use any.....unfair techniques again.... then yes, I still plan to beat you in basketball. Need to remind you that I'm still the best Forward."

"Heh. Show-off."

- rafayel -

Rafayel pouts as he's forced to finish a painting that he promised Thomas would be done over the weekend.

It's not that he dislikes the painting, it's more so that Rafayel prefers to take his time, as he loves taking breaks in between work. This time, however, he realized that there's not much room for breaks if he wants to finish by the deadline.

Luckily, he has his beloved to keep him company and make the work more tolerable.

It doesn't matter what you're doing. Rafayel is just happy that you're there with him.

Whenever you ramble about random things, he listens and asks for more details.

Every time you sing a song while cleaning around his space, he enthusiastically sings along with you while tapping his toes.

When you watch him work, he tells you all about what he's doing; why he chose those specific colors, and why his brush moved in a certain way.

Just now, you're arriving from work with snacks to share, knowing that he most likely hasn't eaten lunch yet. You managed to convince him to take just a few minutes off so he could eat properly — or else, he'll pass out and his painting would absolutely not be done on time, you told him.

Once he's finished eating, you walked him back to his working station before announcing that you'll be gone for a bit to wash the dishes.

You took no further than a single step before arms wrapped around your waist and you're embraced from behind, with Rafayel nuzzling his face on your lower back.

"The dishes will be fine on their own for now. Me, on the other hand... I might need to be supervised. Or else...."

"Or else what?"

"Or else..... I'll be kidnapped by seagulls."

You laughed at his excuse, failing to resist cupping his face. "That's true, they would want to steal a lonely delicious fishie in distress. I better stick around and keep them away."

Rafayel beams and pulls you onto the stool chair with him.

"Wha — Rafayel! This chair's not big enough for both of us!"

"I know, cutie."

Rafayel sat you right on his lap.

"Much better."

"You won't be able to paint properly like this!"

"Oh yeah?" Rafayel grins and twirls the paintbrush he held between the fingers of his right hand. "Challenge accepted! I'll give you a masterpiece! Just you wait!"

You were getting ready to let out the most dramatic and obnoxious laugh as soon as you see him looking silly and struggling to move, but you never got your chance.

Somehow, he still managed to look elegant while painting with you in his way. One hand working, and the other is resting on your left knee.

He truly is a man of many talents.

Since you're there, you might as well enjoy the show. You always find it satisfying and relaxing to watch Rafayel work.

Every graceful stroke of his brush and the way colors smoothly blend together on his canvas is something that you could watch for hours.

You were so entranced that you ended up in a daze not a few minutes later.

You only snapped out of it when you heard a moan from behind you.

Before you could turn your head, Rafayel's hand on your knee moved up to your thigh and his grip on his paintbrush tightened.

"You're not....distracting me on purpose, are you?" his warm breath tickled your neck as his lips brushed against your ear.

You were confused for a second, then he stirred his hips and that's when you felt how hard he is.

"Rafayel..."

You raised a hand to caress his red, warm face and traced his soft lips before giving him a lingering kiss.

He sighs with content against your mouth as he leaned in for more, eyes closed as he cherishes the taste of your lips.

Then, you suddenly pulled back and he looks at you with a pout.

"I wasn't trying to distract you before but now I really am distracting you. You have to keep working if you want to finish on time, Raf."

He groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder. "I knew it. You hate me."

You laughed and squished his cheeks. "Not at all. It's the opposite." one of your hands went to his chest and slid down to his stomach, then to the button of his pants. "I'll stay here and keep you company while you work, okay?"

His breath hitches as you start to unbutton and unzip his pants. "Okay."

You pulled your pants down and moved your panty aside before sliding his cock into you. You let out a gasp as it slipped in so easy, due to his already soaked tip.

Rafayel grunts as his cock settles into your pussy. His body burned with the need to move. His left hand was enveloped with yours, resting on the side of the stool. You then took his right hand, which was still gripping the paintbrush, and held it up to his unfinished painting.

"Keep working."

Rafayel gulps before moving the brush.

Just after a handful of strokes, his cock stirs inside you and a low groan escapes from his mouth.

"I need you. Can I — "

"You have to finish this first. Then, you can move as much as you want, how fast you want."

He throbs at your words.

With his body ignited, Rafayel finds the energy to continue working at a faster rate.

Despite being on the verge of losing control, his hand movements remained steady. Although, he can't help but pause once every while, as you'd clench around his cock and send him farther on edge.

You lost track of time for how long you two were in that position, but Rafayel didn't finish the painting until the sun had gone down and it's dark outside.

The waves outside of his house crashed loudly, and the cold breeze has breached the room, though you could barely notice it as your body is being warmed by Rafayel's.

"It's beautiful!" you exclaimed, admiring his mostly finished artwork.

He said it still needs some final touches, which has to be done tomorrow once everything dries up, but for today, his work is finished.

"Now that you're done, do you wanna eat din— "

Rafayel suddenly stands up but kept an arm around you so that you two don't separate.

Your feet touched the floor and Rafayel slightly bends you over, with one hand on the small of your back and the other on your hips.

"I was promised something once I was done working. Don't you remember, my beloved?" he whispers against your ear before pressing his lips on your cheek. "You offered me yourself."

Your insides tingled at his tone, your core burning up with excitement.

"I can move how much I want, and how fast I want." he repeated your own words back to you. "I'll be taking my gift now."

Rafayel pulls out of you, only to come back in slowly, inch by inch until all of his length is in you. He repeats a few more times before gradually picking up his pace and strength, while his hands hold your hips to keep you steady.

He echoes your erratic gasps of pleasure, sweat glistening on his skin as his body rocks against yours. The sound of his hips snapping against your flesh gets lost in the waves that grew stronger and louder as they reach the shoreline.

You cry out his name as you feel yourself nearing your climax. His chest touches your back and his left arm supports your stomach before going even harder.

Soon, your knees buckle and your hips stutter before coming as he was still fucking you. Rafayel groans as he continues to push himself into you over and over, finding it difficult to slow down.

Then, he explodes inside of you.

And still, he continues to pound you.

The two of you hiss as your sensitive bodies reaches their limits, yet neither are pulling away.

Rafayel didn't stop until the two of you came for the second time. Only then, did he pull out of you.

But still, he wasn't finished.

Rafayel sat you down on the stool chair, then he got on his knees and parted your legs.

"How kind of you to bring me my dinner, my beloved~"

- xavier -

Xavier was in the middle of playing a videogame when you entered his apartment, though his eyes are halfway from closing and the controller on his hands are on the verge of slipping to the floor.

You snuck up towards him so you could give him a jumpscare.

"Boo — whaaa!!"

Without even glancing your way, he suddenly raised his arms and captured you in between them, without even letting go of the controller.

"Hi, doll."

"I wasn't even making any noise and you were half-awake. How did you know?" you sigh, falling limp with your stomach onto his lap.

"You can call it an extra sense."

"Pfft. Okay, Spider Man — oops, I mean Lumiere — "

You were forced to stop talking as Xavier bends down to cover your mouth with his while playfully nipping your bottom lip.

"No Spider Man or Lumiere, just your Xavier."

You were left dazed and speechless from the kiss, so you only stared at his pretty face that wore a half-smile that was proud of the reaction he got out of you.

Xavier casually resumes on playing his videogame, acting as if he didn't die at least seven times just now while he was distracted.

You shifted slightly as you remained lying down on his lap, finding him just as comfortable as his bean-bag chair, where your propped elbows are resting as you lean on your right hand to watch the screen.

Using you like a pillow, he rested his wrists on your ass while his fingers continue to fiddle with the controller.

You didn't mind it at all and shifted even more so that you could be even more comfortable.

As Xavier advances to upper, more difficult levels of the game, he becomes more focused and you become fully immersed in watching him fight enemies.

You didn't even realize until after a while that Xavier is moving an awful lot while just playing a game.

He seems to be squirming under you.

"Xavier... are you good?"

"Mhmm... 'm fine..."

That sounded like a moan just now.

You narrowed your eyes as you turned your head to face him. Sure enough, his face is flushed. You're more than familiar with that look.

Before you could ask any further questions, you felt a stir beneath your hips.

"Heh."

You pushed yourself up and sat on his lap properly with your thighs on the sides of his hips while facing him. Then, you put your hands on his shoulders and leaned forward.

"You could've just asked me to move for you." you grinded your hips against his crotch, making sure to brush against his hard-on.

Xavier lets out a shaky breath before dropping the controller on the floor and putting his hands on your hips, urging you to keep moving.

You swayed your hips until his cock was straining against his pajama pants, until his tip was leaking from desire.

And then, you stopped.

"What — what's wrong?" Xavier looks at you worriedly, eyes still half-lided with lust.

You tugged on the waist band of his pants and pulled it down along with his boxers. Xavier moves to help you get rid of it, then he sighs with pleasure as your hand touches his aching cock.

You stroke him a few times before easing him into you. Xavier grips your hips and nudges you to move, but you stay still despite your insides clenching with need for him.

You slightly bent down backwards to pick up the controller he dropped and put it back in his hand.

"You gotta keep playing, Xavier~"

"What?"

"You wanted to finish this level, right?"

His brows furrowed with confusion. "You...want me to keep playing? Right now...?" His cock twitches, reminding you of your current positions. "But..."

"It'll be fine! I'll cheer you on!"

Xavier then realized what you're planning and lets out a low chuckle before tightening his grip on the controller.

"Fine, but... don't move until I'm done. This won't take long."

Now you wished that you'd faced the other way so you could keep watching him play. Looking over your shoulder to see the screen is uncomfortable, so you just rested your face on his shoulder.

You had no idea what was happening in his game but the fast clicking sounds of the buttons of his controllers made you want to laugh with amusement, knowing he's probably speed-running the level.

But then, you heard a sound that told you that his character just died, and it was followed by Xavier cursing under his breath.

To say that it didn't turn you on would be a lie.

And Xavier picked up on that too when he felt you clench around his cock.

Suddenly, everything darkened around you.

"What?!"

All the lights in the room just went out.

"Looks like the power went out." Xavier murmurs before letting go of the controller. "I can't play now. Too bad."

Xavier's hands made their way back to your hips.

"Gotta find something else to do."

He starts to gently push your hips back and forth, emitting a soft gasp out of your lips, which was muffled as he kisses you deeply.

You nudged him back so that his back could rest on the spatious bean-bag chair, then you put a hand on his chest and bounced on him harder, drawing out erratic groans out of him.

Sweat drips down your bodies as you grind against each other, and yet you couldn't slow down as you feel your insides tingling.

Unable to stay still, Xavier started to thrust his hips upwards to meet you half-way, going even faster than you are, all while his hands are tightly clinging onto yours.

Along with your cries of pleasure, the pitch black room is filled with the sounds of your bodies crashing as you chase your high together.

While Xavier pounds into you uncontrollably, your legs shook as you reach your orgasm, which dripped down to your thighs and onto his skin.

Xavier doesn't stop nor slow down as he feels his climax coming. He sat back up and continued to push his pulsating cock into you until he finally bursts and fills you up with ropes of cum.

He then wrapped his arms around you to hold you against him, with you still on his lap and his cock still nestled nside you.

He buries his face between your breasts, enjoying the way your hand softly combs his hair while you catch your breath.

"Hey, what's that?"

You squinted your eyes to observe the speck of light from his gaming console.

"It's...still on...."

You blinked as you realized what Xavier had done.

"The power never went out... you used your evol to get rid of all the lights?!"

Xavier yawns. "I'm sleepy. We should take a nap."

"Hey!"

3K notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 5 months ago

Text

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, teasing and eventually violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- Oral (Female recieving) fingering, sexual tension, snorting cocaine off bodies lmaoo, coke lips just a lil, mentions of violence and mafia mentions- WC-6.9k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna IDK how many parts this will be, maybe six? That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- CHECK it- LINK

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist- Part Three>>>

Part Two

You’re yawning as you get your little boy ready to sleep, and your good friend and now babysitter Miwa comes in, a pretty smile on her face as she walks in and sees Touma, your little son yanking on your hair then. “Ow, hey now!”

You’re all laughing as you disentangle your hair, huffing a bit. “Sowwy, mama.” He says so cute, and you melt then.

“It’s why mommy wears a bun.” You tap his little button nose, earning a little scrunch of his nose, and then he looks at Miwa, opening his little hands.

“Miwa!” She giggles, getting down on her knees and opening her arms, he goes to hug her then as you get everything ready for the night.

“Are you sure it’s fine? I swear I feel so awful asking you…” You murmur, you’d just gotten a funds transfer that was far too much from Sukuna labled ‘sitter money’ which was hundreds of dollars.

“No, please, it's fine.”

“Um… is two hundred good?” You ask, as Sukuna sent another note saying ‘for you to eat something - you’ll need energy’ which made you blush insanely, memories from him yesterday making you overheat.

“Two hundred, what? That’s too much.” She says with a frown. “It’s one night, like a hundred?”

“Miwa…”

“Girl, I’m not taking two hundred for it.”

“It’s not even from me.” You show her the text then, and she has a blush of her own on her cheeks.

“He did that!?”

“Yeah… so please take it, literally it’s not from me, and I promise, he’s got plenty. Clearly..” She sighs, smiling a bit then as she studies you.

“You really like him, hmm?”

“It’s intense, Miwa.” You murmur softly, looking as your little boy is laughing and tapping on his tablet. “He makes me feel really pretty.”

“Oh baby.” She hugs you then, and you cling to her tightly. “You’re beautiful, I tell you that all the time.”

“I know, and thank you but like, the stretch marks that… he trashed on me for, Mr. Sukuna thinks they’re so sexy.” Your voice is just a breathy whisper, you don’t know how much Touma may or may not hear or know yet.

“Ugh, I’m so glad you left him.” She rolls her pretty blue eyes, shivering in disgust at the thought of your ex, it’s a common response to anyone with sense. “But Toji is kind of related?”

“Loosely. He’s different, I promise, than any of them.”

“I’ll trust it, but jesus the Zenin family is no joke. Just be careful.” You nod as you continue to get a bag together, blushing when you grab pajamas, you don’t know if you’re going to even use pajamas.

Sukuna did things to you that have never been done just existing, what’s terrifying is you know it’s probably a hookup, but after two years of nothing, even that sounds so good. But you’re scared that you’ll catch feelings fast with him, just his presence alone is intoxicating, as much of a drug as any of them push.

You certainly weren’t telling Miwa that.

Sukuna seems night and day from your ex, Naoya, as if they couldn’t be two more different men, despite the clear mafia ties. Something about Sukuna screams that he wants to protect you, and as independent as you are lately by being forced to be, something about him taking care of you was heady and addicting. You can’t stand how much you want it, want more.

“You’ve got those dickmatized eyes.” Miwa says with a sigh and you shush her, as she giggles.

“Not even… I… Miwa!”

“I’m kidding.” She giggles then, shaking her head. “The girls will be very happy to hear you’re meeting someone.”

“Don’t tell our friends yet, what if this ends… with nothing?” You murmur, and she shakes her head, blue hair falling softly.

“Look already, he's more thoughtful. You have fun, and shit if he wants to give me two hundred more to stay another night I will. Easy money for me.”

“Miwa!” She’s laughing and you can’t help but laugh too, before nervously biting your lip. “I feel guilty leaving, it’s one thing to make money, but it seems so selfish to just go do this.”

“Please don’t, he’ll have fun. Won’t you?” She asks him then, as he comes out with his tablet, slicing at fruit rapidly.

“Mommy go have fun!” You blink back tears then. “Mommy should smile, Miwa, smile!”

“She should smile.” Miwa’s hair falls over her brow as she picks him up, propping him on her hip, and your lip trembles a bit at just how sweet he is, before your teeth clamp down on it.

“I love you both, I swear. Touma baby, Mommy will be back tomorrow, will you tell me all the fun that you have?” You ask, feeling emotions catch in your throat, this would be the first night away from him since you all have been on your own.

“Mhmm!” He gives you a big kiss on your cheek, and you giggle at him then, but as you’re heading into your big old SUV, you tense when you see the number, pressing answer and sighing.

“What do you want.” You bite out, trying to sound firm despite the nerves eating you alive.

“That’s not a very nice greeting, sweetheart, don’t you miss me?” His voice makes you sick to your stomach, you tremble when you start your car, and he’s laughing. “Still got that old thing, I can hear it.”

“Well I own it, and it’s mine. So yes. What do you even want?” You murmur, and hear the dark chuckle of Naoya Zenin.

It’s disgusting, even his laugh.

“Just wondering how my son is.”

“Now you care? Sure didn’t on his birthday.” You hear his scoff.

“You’re such a bitch, as if you’d let me see him.” He mutters, tone changing from the cloying fake one to fully disgusting.

“I tried to let you, even after it all, it’s been your choice.” You gulp down some water that you’ve brought as you sit at the turning lane, blinker ticking loudly in the quiet car, as your heart races.

“Well maybe I miss you and Touma, did you think of that? Oh, I just bet you miss me.”

“I’m good.”

“Ha, you say that, but I remember things.” His voice takes on a purr now, you can almost see those narrow brown eyes, his malicious grin, how had you ever fallen for someone like that?

“Remember what?” You ask, voice harsh as you remember the last time you all had been together, after he’d cheated again. You’d been so fucked up from him you’d wanted to please him, to make him desire you, but there was no pleasure in it, shit Naoya himself had never been one to pleasure you.

Selfish in every single area including sex, you think you got off more from Sukuna fingering you for a moment than your entire relationship, just the way his ruby eyes looked at you was like a drug. The way he’d kissed you, how he wanted your pleasure, and did all this for a night. It was a million times more than you’d ever had with Naoya.

“You don’t remember me inside you, sweetheart?” He cooes, but you’re shivering in disgust at the memory.

“Sure I do, I’m good.”

“You act as if you could do better, as if you were even good enough for me.” There it goes, you think, while you’re driving down the highway toward the club, odd that it feels so comfortable so quickly.

“Yeah, if I’m not then why are you calling me, hmm?” You ask then, hearing his scoff, smiling as practically picture him losing his shit.

“Who’d want you after the kid but me? You act like you’re the same bitch you were when we met.”

“Lots of people, because guess what? I’m still hot, so fuck you.” He scoffs as you’re giggling.

“The fuck!?”

“Mmhmm, I’m still very hot. And if you don’t think so, go knock up some other poor girl I guess, then down her for the changes a baby makes to her body. Because I’m not it anymore.”

“You little-”

“I’ll block this number if you call for anything personal again. Our agreement states you should be talking through our app.”

“Yeah, really ya think I’ll listen to that shit? Why don’t you admit it, how much you miss me?”

“Because I don’t. Anyway, I have work.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” He demands in his slick tone, one that makes your tummy lurch.

“Bartending.”

“Hah, you were only smart enough to look pretty and blink those lashes, back to it hmm?”

“Didn’t you just say I’m unattractive, how contradictory are you?”

“You-”

“Goodbye.” You hang up the phone, shutting your eyes for a moment and gripping it tightly in your hand, shaking off the images in your mind, in just a week Sukuna, and shit even Toji as a friend, have made you feel better than you had since the split.

Getting cheated on back to back was not easy on you, but you feel like you can shove it all back and just breathe. You’re walking into the club then, seeing Gojo with a fellow tall, dark haired man, he’s beautiful actually you muse as you walk past them, Sukuna and Toji to the dressing room. Sukuna had already laid eyes on you though, and as you’re getting undressed he walks in.

All the girls scatter, his ruby eyes directly on you, and you’re trembling just a bit when he frowns. “What’s wrong, brat?”

“Brat?” You tease softly, blinking a bit when he steps closer.

“You look upset. Who do I need to kill?” You almost laugh, but he raises a brow, god how are this man’s eyebrows attractive!? You sigh then, stepping closer, naked aside from your panties, and you feel his eyes dart to your bare breasts.

“I’m much happier now.” You murmur, he sighs then, a big hand on your waist, taking you over, thumb slipping against the swell of your lower breast.

“Yeah, why?” He mutters, so gruffly, already throbbing hard under his slacks, as he thinks of everything he wants to do.

“Because you’re touching me.” Your vulnerability almost breaks him then, his lips parted in shock, he squeezes tighter, leaning down and cupping your face.

“Did you get the money for your sitter?” He murmurs, and you nod shyly.

“It was too much, but I’m sure she appreciates it.” Your hand comes to grip his strong wrist, heart beating erratically in your chest now.

“And did you eat?”

“Not yet.” You giggle, softly, he sighs then, lips a breath away.

“I’m not fucking kidding, you’ll need the energy.” His words and his tone make your mind wander, just how would it be, to have Sukuna inside you?

“Oh yeah?”

He smirks before chuckling, throwing his head back. “You’re cute, brat, oh yeah.”

“Hey!” You sigh now, stepping back as he eyes your breasts, and you pop your little tassels out of your bag, eyeing him then, watching him drink the sight in. “Wanna help?”

“Shit.” You kill him. Sukuna takes them and presses them, as the little sticky adhesive suctions on, but he’s cupping your breasts in huge hands, as one of the girls, Candy walks in, pausing. “What do you want?” His voice is so terse, it’s just nothing like the man that just asked if you got the hundreds he sent for a sitter and your lunch.

“Um… Mr. Sukuna… could you help me with mine?” She asks then, yanking her tassels off, bare breasted. She makes you tense a bit.

Naoya had cheated over and over, but you and Sukuna were nothing yet, shit you’d just sucked him in his office so far, that’s it. And maybe a hook up tonight? So you can’t be upset if he wishes to, you just look away nervously, leaning forward in the mirror to adjust your makeup and pulling away as he eyes her, so clearly irritated by her presence.

“Ask Toji or something.” He grumbles, before turning you back to him, your eyes glimmer then, with some moisture, making him stutter. “What’s wrong now, shit?”

“No, it’s… your…” You hug him then, making him freeze, as your pretty little body is against him, your breasts so soft on him, he wants to tear you apart, put you back together, make you his. His hands stall though, unsure as you look up at him with tears down your pretty cheeks.

Candy leaves as Sukuna’s mouth opens and shuts. “Brat, what is it?”

“You m-make me feel really… um… it’s stupid…”

“Out with it.”

“Sexy? Pretty? Wanted?” He blinks in confusion then, how could you ever not be, especially with the amount of attention you get here? “I’m not used to this.”

“You know you’re pretty, just… shut up, stop that shit.” He’s swiping at your eyes though, as you elicit emotions that make him insane. “Why’d you feel like you’re not, that brain fried from your kid or something!?”

“No… I just… shitty past.” He sees it then, you’re so hurt from something, and anyone who ever made you feel that way!?

Sukuna would take him the fuck out.

“Whoever says you’re not is trying to fuck with you, fuck your head up, so ignore that shit.” He says softly almost, still a little gruff, cupping your face then. “I have excellent taste, trust mine hmm?”

“Yeah.” Your lip trembles, and Sukuna can’t stop the word from spilling from his lips then.

“Beautiful.”

“I… huh?”

“Shut it.” He kisses you then, and you’re falling against him, pressed on the counter where he can see your back and ass in the mirror, tempting him just as much as your pretty breasts, he moans as he steps between your thighs.

“Did you say beautiful?”

“Shush it, fuck you’re annoying hmm?” You just giggle a bit, and the action does something odd to his heart, god you do something to him.

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna.”

“Just Sukuna, shit.” He kisses you again before taking a breath, eyeing your body up and down slowly. “Wanna sit on my lap during this meeting? You may… have to have some coke on your body.”

“On me!?”

“Yeah but I’d like you there? Don’t smile like that, you’re too excited.” He says with a glare, you can’t stop it though. The way Sukuna makes you feel, even if this is just you two hooking up, it’s too addicting.

“Which outfit should I wear?” You hold up a few, when Sukuna picks a sexy little red number.

“Turn, I’ll snap it up.” You do as he says, he brushes your hair off the back of your neck over one of your shoulders, eyeing you in the mirror, when he’s done snapping it his fingers trail down your spine, sending shivers down it. His hands then grip your waist, pulling your back against him, and you feel him, hard and insistent against the small of your back under his dress pants.

“You like this outfit?” You manage to tease softly, he exhales then, trailing his big hands down your shoulders, then brushing the sides of your breasts, making your nipples taut under these tassels.

“What do you think?” He says gruffly, before stepping back, letting you both take a breath, he leans forward, palms on the counter, nipping at your shoulder with his teeth, making you gasp a bit. “Keep thinking how good you fucking taste, wanna bury my face inside you.”

“Sukuna…” Your voice is a whine, pathetic, your head falling to the side, as his palm now presses on your tummy. “You do that?”

“Do I do that?” He chuckles against your neck now. “Yes I do that, don’t tell me whatever shit ex you had didn’t.” You just blush now, looking down, and his brows raise in surprise. “And how long were you together?”

“Four years.”

“Not once.” You shake your head, and he scoffs, finger drifting just across your red lace, touching you over the material, finding you drenched, making him moan at the heat he feels. You’re soaking his fingers, turning to look up at him, your eyes dilated and lidded. “You want me to drink you up?”

“Y-yes. I do.” You admit softly, he chuckles as he studies the color decorating your skin, brushing his thumb along your cheek so overheated. Before Naoya you’ve had guys do it, and of course it felt good, but you imagine Sukuna will be this entire other level.

“You won’t ever want me to leave once I do.” You hear the vulnerability in his voice, making you pause before he backs away, clearing his throat.

As if you’d leave him if he was yours, does he not know what kind of man he is to you? How you feel? Well… no, not yet, you’re swallowing it all down, it’s new and it’s scary, and…

“First, be a good girl and let’s do this meeting, yeah?” His gruff words make you focus once more.

“Yes Sir.”

“Shit don’t say that.” He scowls, turning to adjust his raging hard cock up in his waistband, and your giggle earns a deeper glare. “Keep acting up.”

“I won’t! Promise.” He doesn’t give you the smile until you’ve already stepped in front of him, but it’s quite a dopey little smile, as he watches your ass bounce in the little outfit. There’s this possessiveness he feels he can’t explain, he wants to wipe out anyone who looks at you, and he barely knows you.

He can’t wait to have you cumming all over his face, can’t wait to drink your pretty pussy up until you’re a writhing fucking mess under him, he wonders, do you squirt or do you just drip? Has anyone gotten you off good enough before? Sukuna would fuck every thought out of your mind anyway, until it’s just him, because damned if that’s not all that’s in his head lately.

You both step out into the heady club, the scent of women’s perfume and men’s cologne mixing with cannabis and cigars, along with some fragrant incense burning somewhere. It’s smoky from the little fog machines, the lights strobing just so, highlighting everyone dancing, laughing, lounging. But all Sukuna can see or sense is you.

Even your scent, so sweet and intoxicating, is it fuck your arousal he could damn near feel it, when you next to him, now, looking up just so, your face so pretty it’s damn near irritating to him, the music thrumming through until it’s pulsating both of your bodies. “Where to, Mr. Sukuna?”

“I said to call me just Sukuna, brat.”

He bets you’re blushing, even if he can’t actually see it. “Sukuna.”

God his name from those lips makes his cock throb, how will he focus on business like this!?

“Right in the VIP, c’mon.” He leads you in, where Toji has Candy on his lap, she scowls openly at you until Sukuna catches her, suddenly her scowl disappears, you can’t help but be a little amused.

You recognize Gojo, who is leaned back with an ankle crossed over a knee, grinning up at you with those insane blue eyes, even in the dark they’re ridiculous, you can’t help but smile back, he’s been very sweet to you so far. “Hey sweets, come sit on daddy’s lap, hmm?”

“She sure the fuck won’t, and you’re not daddy.” Sukuna growls, but you’re giggling just a bit as a couple more girls come in, and Sukuna sits next to Toji on one couch, across from Satoru and his friend. Satoru pouts at you.

“He’s mean, isn’t he?” The man next to him snorts, and takes your hand, bending over and kissing it, making you melt a bit.

“Suguru Geto.” He says, you smile before Sukuna has you yanked down firmly on his lap, you laugh a little breathless as you tell Suguru your name, and he watches amusedly when Sukuna wraps an arm around your hips.

“See how greedy he is with her?” Gojo says, but he’s soon amused by another one of the dancers coming by, handing him a drink. “Ooh, thank you.”

“That’s the girliest drink I’ve seen, little bitch drink.” Sukuna grumbles, Satoru sticks his tongue out, sipping on the pink concoction.

“Mmm, and I hear you’re already the star of the club, hmm?” Suguru says your name as a girl hands him a drink, and you shake your head nervously.

“She sure is, stop being shy, doll.” Toji says, tucking a lock of your hair back, before Sukuna glares at him and he chuckles. “Not that he lets her do much dancing, really.”

“Shut it Toji. Business time.”

“Boring.” Satoru leans back in his seat, long legs spread, and sipping his drink as Suguru leans forward, while a dancer lets him snort a line right off her thigh, lapping at the residue with his tongue and sighing.

“Satoru, focus.” He says in a calm tone, Satoru eyes you though as another girl comes to him.

“Wanna snort a line off you, mommy.”

“Satoru I swear to god.” Sukuna threatens, Gojo pouts now, blinking snowy lashes as Sukuna’s grip on you tightens brutally.

“I can’t take a line off the star girl?” Sukuna sighs, and you look at him then, lips turning up at the corners, as his ruby eyes narrow.

“Trying to make me jealous?” He hums quietly, you stand then, earning his hands slipping down your hips.

“I wonder if you’ll show me how mad you are later.” He smirks at you, raising a brow arrogantly.

“Think you can handle that, little brat?” You step over to Satoru, who exhales, sitting up straight then, smiling up at you.

“Look you’re defying him and everything, cute.” You roll your eyes as Satoru takes the snowy powder, tapping some gently on your thigh then, using this fancy black and silver card to line it up. “You’ve never done any, have you?”

“No…” You admit, and even as Toji, Sukuna and Suguru talk, you feel those crimson eyes boring into you, when Satoru slips his long fingers, your heel propped on the other side of him, and he wraps up a bill.

“What’s a good girl doing here though?” He asks curiously, plump lips turning up when he finishes rolling the bill.

“Single mom life is expensive.” He pauses then, blue eyes looking down a bit at your body, as you overhear the conversation in the background.

“And the Zenin family seems to think they have claim to parts of our territory, the Kamos are on board with Gojo now though, so that expands us and what we’re moving significantly.” Suguru says to Sukuna, who laughs then, throwing his head back as Toji grimaces.

“Don’t call me a fuckin’ Zenin, ya know that’s not my name.” Toji grumbles, considering he does use Fushiguro, but you can’t blame him, just look at Naoya? Who would want to be related to that?

“So you really are a mommy then. Hot.” Satoru says, before snorting the coke off your skin, one of his hands pressing into your calf as he does. Then his face is far too close to where you feel his breath tickle your inner thigh, he presses a kiss on your thigh then, earning Sukuna standing up and Satoru grinning.

“You’re gonna get killed.” Toji chuckles, and Satoru holds his hands up, as Sukuna places you behind him, grabbing him by the collar.

“I was just thanking her!?” He’s sputtering and you can’t stop your giggle, something was stupidly attractive about Sukuna like this.

“I’ll cut your dumb ass tongue out of your mouth if you-”

“Sukuna, chill. Satoru, apologize.” Suguru says calmly then, humor in his violet eyes, and Sukuna flops down Satoru right on the couch, he brushes himself off, laughing like a psycho.

“Sorry Sukuna, it's not my fault she’s so pretty.” Satoru earns another grab of his neck. “I said sorry!”

“Hands off.” He looks to you, his glare making your giggle stop, as he bends low over you, his big hands on your bare waist, your pulse racing, pounding in your ears as the room watches you both for a moment. “And you, you’re not leaving my lap anymore for the rest of the meeting, got it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You can’t stop the little smile when he sighs at that, before sitting down and firmly planting you on his thigh, Gojo winks over at you, earning an eye roll as you feel Sukuna’s firm thigh against your head, addling your mind.

“Now, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Sukuna clears his throat, one arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you further up his thigh, making you ache in need, more and more. “We absolutely have an active Zenin member approaching our area, and they’re doing a lot more than running drugs.”

“They’re running people.” Toji says, disgust in his voice, and your eyes go wide as you look at him.

“This convo too much for you?” Sukuna murmurs, and then you look at him, shaking your head and gulping.

“So we stop them, then.” Suguru says calmly, and Sukuna sighs.

“There’s no other option, considering who we’re talking about, not like they’ll make any deals.” Sukuna now takes some of the powder, turning you and sprinkling just a bit on the curve of your neck and shoulder, snorting it off you and then licking the line off your body, exhaling as he tastes you mixing with the numbness of the cocaine. “Fuck…”

It’s a murmur no one hears but you, but you feel him clenching you tightly, so protective, his hands not leaving you as they speak, little brushes against your back playing with your hair, all while your pussy throbs in need for him. But more so your mind craves to know more of him, just who is the man you feel so comfortable sitting on so damn quickly?

What makes him… him?

“No one hates the Zenins more than Toji.” Comes Suguru’s voice now, shaking you out of your reverie, you blink a bit as Toji laughs, downing a shot.

“She does.” He says your name, gesturing to you, earning the eyes of every man, including Sukuna, as his mouth parts. “Shit, sorry doll.”

“What’s he mean?” Sukuna asks tersely, and you sigh, shifting a bit.

“Do you have a connection to the Zenin?” Suguru asks curiously, you sigh again, that’s two sighs, Sukuna counts, while you tense, and he watches your jaw clench just a bit as he turns your chin to face him.

“They got something on you?” He asks quietly, and you look at Toji again, unable to really say the words.

“Her kid is a Zenin.” He says then, gruffly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to throw your shit out there.”

“Your kid is a Zenin?” He asks, you nod then, just a bit. “So your shitty ex is a Zenin?”

“He’s the shittiest of them all.” Toji mutters.

“Who?” Sukuna asks quietly.

“Naoya.” You whisper the name, bitter and disgusting in your mouth.

“Oh shit. Mommy, that's bad taste.” Satoru says, and you watch the room put their heads in their hands.

“I know, okay, trust me. Leaving him wasn’t easy, that’s why I ended up having to come here, it’s not like he has much to do with our son. Touma doesn’t even remember him. But he did call me today.”

“He did what now?” Sukuna’s grip makes you wince just a bit, it’s so tight. “If he calls you I really should know from now on, you have no clue how dangerous he is.”

“I was with him for years, I do know.” You stand then, taking a breath, and shaking your head. “I should go… dance or something.”

Sukuna’s saying your name, and Toji is trying to apologize, but you can’t stand another moment, wondering how even here Naoya fucks with you. But it’s just moments before Sukuna is yanking you off the stage, literally picking you up, and carrying you to his office, sitting you right on his desk. Your breasts are heaving up and down with each breath when he caresses your cheek, surprisingly gentle.

“What’d he say to you? Did he threaten you?” Sukuna murmurs, you shake your head.

“Just mean shit, like I must miss him, and who would want me. His typical poison he likes to throw, nothing more.” You swipe at tears that form, falling down your cheeks, and Sukuna feels rage destroying him from the inside.

“And you surely know it’s bullshit, hmm?”

“I told him to fuck off.” You smile just a bit, a hand slipping over a strong chest, one you wonder about, how far do these tattoos lead? How does he look with it off? The thoughts tantalize you to no end. “You helped me do that.”

“Good girl.” You exhale, biting your lower lip, as he spreads your thighs, standing between them and leaning over you. “If he calls you anymore, tell me, you don’t want to know all what he’s into, he could hurt you.”

“He never has, like physically at least.”

“Just promise me, I can’t protect you if you don’t.” You frown then at that, nodding.

“But my kid is most important to me, Sukuna.”

“Then I’ll make you both safe, even the little… kid or whatever.” He grumbles, melting you utterly, you blink rapidly, pulling on his tie, your lips a breath from his now, tasting the sweetness of his breath.

“Why are you so good to me already?”

“I haven’t been good to you yet. Or you’d be fucked out.” He says, whispering those words, you’re kissing him now, gasping when you feel the numbness of your lips, and he chuckles a bit. “It’ll go away.”

“Will I get…”

“No, it won’t fuck you up. But I will.” You’re back to kissing him, his lips working over yours again and again, big hand slipping down the small of your back. “Take the day off, I need you all day I can’t wait for later.”

“I can’t, Sukuna.”

“I’ll pay you three times your average day.”

You shake your head at him, lips parted in a moan when he presses his clothed cock against your dripping wet pussy, your hands cling to his suit jacket, whining out. “Don’t pay me, I don’t wanna be that way…”

“I’m fucking rich, baby, just take it. Give it to your kid, I don’t know.”

You snort at him, your entire body responding to his every touch. “Sukuna, you don’t give a little kid money like that!”

“I don’t know what you do with those things.” You burst out laughing at him, and he glares, while you swipe back a lock of pink hair. “Take. The. Day. Off.”

You certainly do take the day off, and soon you’re in the back of the limo you’d watched Sukuna climb into many times, but now it’s just you and him, and you’re kissing him, straddling his lap, nothing on you but that lingerie and his suit jacket. He’s under you, feeling your cunt against him, ready to fuck into you, fill you, you’re driving him so crazy he’s sensitive.

If he busts from this he will never forgive himself, so he pushes you off, on your back now, you’re breathless as you look up at him, his coat is swallowing your body, so small compared to him, your eyes locked on his, so gorgeous it makes him want to be stupid. He’d cum in you, give you more kids if that’s really what makes you so happy, fill you so good, keep you.

“Annoying.” He says then, and you blink curiously, not realizing the inner turmoil of the obsession he now has over you, this gorgeous mom who has a fucked ex, and a soaking wet pussy grinding up for attention against his thigh. This mom who he’d make a mom a million times over, and he doesn’t even know you.

“I’m annoying?” You ask curiously, he sighs now, nodding, and you just giggle a bit, more pretty, fueling his obsession as he grips your thigh then, rough thumb pressing against delicate skin. He watches your breath catch, as he feels his cock leaking precum from just touching you.

“So annoying.” He confirms, but it might as well be sweet words when he kisses you again, and then down your throat, until he gets to your pretty breasts, while the limo steadily drives you both, jostling you just a bit, only serving to put his face closer to where he wants to be.

“Sukuna, um… are you…” He’s kissing down your stomach now, nipping right at your belly button, tongue trailing a line that would previously make you so nervous, but with him you just feel…

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He murmurs, rough fingers suddenly slipping under your panties, making your hips buck up, clit twitching in response. “He really didn’t eat you out?”

“No, I didn’t… um, cum with him.”

What the fuck is wrong with him. Aside from the obvious.

“Hmm, then she’ll be all mine, hah.” You’re watching his eyes dilate to the point they’re black, sharp teeth biting at your thigh, while you’re drooling out of your little hole, finally he’s down there, eying your pussy in the back of this limo, groaning at the sight. “Oh you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Please, please.” You’re whimpering, and he smirks, before parting your folds, breathing on your clit and watching the little thing twitch for him.

“You’re so needy already, gonna be so fuckin’ easy, brat?”

“Sukuna please…” You glare then when he’s kissing right above your clit, your hands enwrapping in his silky pink locks, pulling just so, only making his cock harder for you.

“Need something?”

“Oh my god…” He’s spitting on your clit now, groaning as he watches it bubble and slip down your hole, and you’re squeaking, only earning his chuckle.

“M’gonna have so much fun with you, baby, shit.” He slips two fingers down and up your slit, still just breathing on your damn clit, as your hands fall from his hair, instead clinging to his shoulders, feeling the broad shoulders move under your touch. “Perfect pussy, fuck you for it, shit.”

“Fuck me for it!?”

“Better than I could even picture, stroking my cock every day this week, so much it’s raw damn near. Almost cumming from kissing, you do this shit.” You’re lost in the sensations of his two fingers sinking inside you then, pressing up and finding that spongy spot so fast you can’t breathe, screaming out, back arching. “There it is, dumb fuck couldn’t find it huh?”

“God no he couldn’t. F-fuck!” You whine out as Sukuna flicks his tongue against your clit now, a sensation you can’t describe, hot and sticky as it laps at your wetness, as he moans at your sweetness.

“Fuck….” Sukuna wants to tease you, but he’s done once he gets that taste fully on his mouth, he’s pulling his fingers out and burying his face against you, fucking your little gummy walls with his tongue as you shatter under him. He’s moaning against you, tongue lapping all the wetness pouring out of you, as you’re clinging to his hair so hard it’s painful.

It only urges him more, your moans, your cries, how pretty you look when he stares up at you, his thumbs holding your lips open so he can fuck you even better with his tongue. He feels your walls fluttering, gripping his wet muscle, feels you tense when his nose bumps your clit, you’re screaming out, so loud it’s echoing in the limo, and he knows it then.

He’ll never get enough of you.

Just tasting you is better than any girl he’s fucked, and there have been a lot, shit he’s never enjoyed eating pussy like this either. He’s one that enjoys tasting a woman, it makes him excited to get women off, he’s never been selfish. But to love it like this? God no one tastes like you.

You’re falling apart now, he can feel it, when you’re mumbling incoherently, sniffling, thighs squeezing his head, just urging him on more and more, as he drinks your sticky clear cum all up. Your sounds are filling his ears, mixing with the racing of his damn pulse, his cock oozing precum and making him sticky. He could cum just eating your pussy.

Fuck, he thinks he’s already in love with you.

“M’gonna, Sukuna I’m c–close I…” You’re whispering, pulling at his hair, as the sensation of him devouring you takes over, and he smirks up at you then, pulling off for the first breath you’ve seen the man take.

Is he human even!?

“Cum all over m’face, be a good girl, huh brat?” You nod weakly, fuck you need no urging to cum, but you needed to know it was okay, you want and crave his permission for some insane reason.

When he’s back buried against you, your body convulses, all this pressure in your tummy letting go, until your orgasm has your back arching, has your pussy drenching his handsome face. Sukuna’s moaning, hands tightly gripping your hips, drinking every bit of your arousal that pools, as your cunt now pulses around his tongue, and you’re crying it feels so good.

The orgasm breaks your brain, whatever was left of it from him, you can’t remember ever even having a damn thought but this. You’re whining his name out over and over as he pulls back grinning so damn sexy and arrogant from between your thighs, lapping his tongue up to your clit now, and you scream out hoarsely as he bites your little clit.

“Oh m-my god, f-fuck it’s too much!” He chuckles again, shaking his head as he slips two fingers back in your hole, now soaked and sucking them up so easy, as your pussy drools down his hand to his rings, to his rolex.

“You’re so messy, huh? Look at you, all over me, all over these seats, fuck.” He huffs, enamored with how wet he has you, and your eyes struggle to look down, you squeak a bit, so cute he smiles.

“I’m s-so sorry I’m n-never, Sukuna I’m gonna cum again, fuck!” He curls his fingers in your slick walls, you hear the lewd sound of the squelching wetness in the limo now, it’s obscene, mixing with his moans as he flicks his tongue on the underside of your clit. “Ah s’good-mnh!”

“Cum again for me, lemme drink you all up, messy girl.” You’re coming undone for him, with each flick of his tongue as he now presses up his fingers on that spongy little spot, and you see stars behind eyes as they roll back in your skull. It’s so good you’re crying as he rides out your second orgasm, slurping sounds of Sukuna drinking you even louder, just making it headier.

“Mnh… ngh… ah…” You’re unable to form a word, a twitching mess under him, while he licks more of your slick off his lower lip, grinning down at the mess he’s made you, your pretty face covered in tears and drool.

“Ah, look at you baby, so fucked out, don’t even have my dick yet, hmm?” He taunts now, fingers scissoring in and out as he leans over you, cupping your face with his other hand now.

“Want it, want it.” You’re reaching for him as he hisses, losing control once you find his bulge over his pants, kissing you again, now you taste yourself, making you lap the arousal off his lips, as you’re eagerly unbuckling him, for the limo to stop. He takes a breath, pausing your hand then, wrapping you back in his jacket and adjusting you, as you cling to him eagerly. “Need you.”

“Fuck if I don’t need you, driving me insane.” He grumbles, adjusting himself then, and soon you’re in the elevator, kissing again, riding up to Sukuna’s penthouse, you have your phone going off and he scowls at it. “Better not be him.”

“It may be Miwa.” You take a breath as you look at the phone, smiling then, it’s just a little picture of Touma happily grinning with a cookie, you show Sukuna, and he sees your damn face light up, making him falter a bit.

God you’re beautiful lit up.

Sukuna would do anything to keep you this way.

“He’s getting spoiled. Sukuna, thank you for this… I was so worried, being away for a night but… I can’t wait.” You say softly, as you step inside, you barely get to look around however, because he’s pressing you against a wall, leaning low and grinning now, white teeth glinting under soft white lights from the high ceiling.

“I hope you can keep up with me, brat.” He says, before picking you up in his arms like you’re nothing, pulling the hair at the nape of your neck. “You’re getting no sleep tonight.”

Kuna is so in love already aha. Part three coming soon (just like Kuna about to lol) There will be a LOT more drama and plot along with some freaky ass smut and a whole fuck session next chap. If you wanna get tagged and aren't already on one of the lists just lmk - also omg ty for the love on the first part!?!?!

If you're interested in Satoru from this here's his headcanons so far

Taglist #1 - @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @minaa-06 @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist - ©All works by Madamechrissy you may not reproduce

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x fem!reader #sukuna x female reader #jjk smut #divider by cafekitsune #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #Sukuna is whipped #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen smut

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bnpd · 2 months ago

Text

❛❛ NERD-JO .ᐟ >ᴗ< ❜❜ :

SYNOPSIS: you're a new transfer at a big prestigious private university. what happens when the first friend you make is a cute nerd? will you get your chance to start fresh? or will your newfound 'friendship' bring you unwanted drama in the future.

DRABBLE WRD COUNT: 2.6K pairings: rich nerd!deans nephew gojo x reader tags: cute nerd gojo, reader is kind of mysterious, gojo makes me chuckle here. NOT PROOFREAD (sorry) ill come back and remove some grammatical errors. this might be cheeks fr

NOTEᝰ.ᐟ : im late to the nerd gojo party </3 but please enjoy! please do not steal my little nerdjo pngs just because they have my 'bnpd' if you want the individual png pls just shoot me a text :) lmk if there are any issues, so i can fix them !!

a tall man sits in the far back of the lecture hall. figure hunched over the desk as he scribbles away intensely in his journal. 30 minutes earlier than the usual start of the lecture.

the glasses that sit delicately on his nose bridge slide down every once in a while. his white ruffled hair stays still as he shuffles in his seat to adjust his posture.

many are intimidated by his silent and blank stare. everyone but students in his science club feel that way. he’s quite the chatterbox contrary to popular belief. ask him about his favorite physics theories and he’s chatting your ear off.

he doesn’t go to parties, but invite him to a museum or a bookstore? he’s already in the car.

he’s quite polished. gojo can be one of those pretentious nerds, but he doesn’t mean to! he has lived a privileged life and acts like any other rich college student would.

comes from a wealthy family and doesn't hide it, but he also doesn't run around telling everyone.

it might seem like he dresses like a regular guy but his clothes are still expensive. you'll occasionally find him wearing a sweater vest and button up tucked into his well-tailored pants altered to fit his long legs on formal days when he has a research symposium presentation or a meeting with the steam department about improving certain aspects he finds are not up to his standards.

most of the time, he’ll wear comfortable clothes. wears glasses, cliche, but he wears them more out of practical appeal and necessity.

his eyes are sensitive due to a medical condition he has. so, the glasses he wears are tailored to prevent his eyes from straining. his parents urge him to wear the endless supply of contacts he has but he’s quite comfortable with his glasses.

every pair of glasses he owns has his initials engraved on the temples, whether it’s gold or silver. whatever matches the aesthetic of the pair of glasses.

when he was younger. his parents would fund his personal ‘academic’ projects. he’d be busy every summer at a science or math camp. if they sent him to a summer camp that wasn't academically related; at camp you’d find him reading far away from everyone else. whether in front of a lake or a quiet little place in the woods.

now? he’s still the same. just bigger. doesn’t go to summer camp but definitely stacks up his summer with internships or side projects. on top of that, he’ll spend time volunteering at local schools, teaching students in high school or middle school.

very good with kids, and more patient with them than he would be with his uni study partners.

donates whatever money he earns at internships to local communities to aid students in pursuing their education. he strongly believes that if he can pursue education freely, so should everyone else.

his timer goes off quietly and he stops scribbling down his memorized equations. he huffs out a breath of relief yet frustration.

i’m still missing one… he thinks to himself. if anyone with an outside perspective were to see him they’d imagine gears turning inside of his head.

he flips the page, resets his timer, and starts again.

time passes and he realizes class has now begun. he was so caught up studying, he failed to realize that the class is now packed with other students. a few scattered seats remain vacant.

the professor enters the class and silently unpacks her bag before greeting the class and breaking the silence, “let’s have a great semester.” she wastes no time diving into the lecture.

gojo, contrary to popular belief, sits in the middle section of the lecture hall. he’s not fond of the back because for starters, he’s easily distracted and he can’t hear from all the way back there. the middle is just right.

he’s kind of a loner, by choice. he's just always being productive on campus.

you’ll often see him sitting alone, busying himself with his studies unless he has a meeting with his club about an upcoming math or science competition. if it’s not the season of academic olympiads, he’s alone.

he only has two close friends: geto and shoko. geto majors in psychology. shoko is, of course, pursuing her dream of being a doctor. she’s a biology major undergoing the pre-med track.

gojo has yet to have a girlfriend in college.

not because he can’t find someone interested in him, absolutely not. he’s handsome, intelligent, quiet, kind, and rich. he's the most sought after bachelor on campus. with his brains and looks, he's every girls wet dream.

unfortunately for him, women are always hitting on him but quite frankly, he’s not interested. or sometimes he doesn’t catch on to the fact that a woman is subtly flirting with him.

not because he’s dense, but how would he find something he’s not even looking for?

like right now, when you gently plop down on the seat next to him. you’re quite fond of sitting in the front but the lecture hall was overwhelmingly full. there were other open seats but he looked to be the most productive and you needed that.

you were a transfer. which is odd to be one this late into college, given that you’re a senior trying to complete your last year.

the university is a pretty big private school so no one notices new transfers nor do they care. but within them, are those who do.

like gojo.

he doesn’t realize you’ve sat next to him until the end of the lecture. given that he was too busy scribbling away in his journal.

one thing about gojo is that he likes to leave when everyone is already gone and the professor is free to approach. he’s a tiny bit surprised to see it seems you think the same. but for reasons he’s not aware of, you’re there for a reason other than academics.

he silently observes you as you approach the professor. his eyebrows raise a bit when you share a hug and it has him adjusting his glasses to make sure he’s seeing things correctly.

interesting

you continue to sit next to him in the following weeks, seeing him twice a week on tuesdays and thursdays. you began to find yourself looking forward to it. you get to sit next to a tall dorky handsome stranger? you’ll be getting perfect attendance.

you rarely catch a glance of him outside of class, but every time you do he is so focused.

the more you studied him while he studied something else, the more you realized how attractive he was. even if you knew that prior to your silent observations.

from the outfits you could tell he spent some time on in the morning—you assumed he woke up earlier than everyone else, to the way his obsession with organization—you took note of when he set his things down for class and neatly organized his pens, pencils and journal for notes.

don’t be mistaken though. one tiny peek at his journal was enough to see that despite his need to tidy things on the outside…his notes were written haphazardly and quick. notes are a reflection of your mind, and if you’re constantly thinking then your notes will be a reflection of that.

you had also come to the conclusion that he was a man that was yet to become aware of his height. he moved around like he didn’t know how much of a walking tank he was. you hoped he never found out.

the best thing about him wasn’t any of the things you listed, but it was a few of the habits he had.

everything he owned was personalized. from the pencils he used, to his backpack. you made that discovery when you forgot your pencil pouch in the library.

it took you a total of 2 minutes to gather the courage to turn to the mysterious man beside you, and ask him for a pencil.

“excuse me,” you said gently, “im sorry, but can i bother you for a pencil? im so sorry.”

he stared at you and you thought he would explode you with his bright blue snow glazed eyes.

he cracked a tiny toothless smile and you figuratively crossed your fingers, hoping he wasn’t silently judging you or worse—came to the conclusion that were unprepared and incompetent.

you watched him intently as he reached to grab his backpack, taking in the way the black expensive leather had his initials engraved in the bottom corner. he reached his hand into his backpack and pulled out–what looked to be the most elegant, technologically advanced sleek black mechanical pencil.

“don’t worry about giving it back,” he says politely but then he goes for the blow “i know you might need it in the future.” with a hint of pretentiousness. oh!

“well… thank you,” you say a bit taken back as you reluctantly take the pencil from his extended hand. your face falls a little at his response and you deflate a little in your chair.

did he think you were…poor? god forbid a girl asks for a pencil. you’d, unfortunately, been perceived. and in the worst way possible. he probably thinks you’re irresponsible, and an idiot!

you look at the pencil and realize that–of course–he has his initials engraved in his mechanical pencils too.

g.s.

you bite back a smile that might give away how endearing you found it. that is so cute.

he has his initials on almost everything. you try not to crack a smile at how adorable yet endearing that is.

unfortunately, you couldn’t really put the pencil to good use because he kept fidgeting in his seat the entire class. it distracted and worried you at the same time. which was odd because he never did that.

is he upset that he had to give you one of his spare pencils? will he ask for it back?

as you were packing your bags to leave, you felt him heavily staring at you. it makes you pause your movement and then turn to him, and sure enough, he was looking at you. you a tiny sigh leaves your lips.

“yes? is this about your pencil? because i have my own i just needed–”

“im sorry.” he interrupts you and it shuts you up immediately.

what?

he might have seen the confusion in your eyes. “about what i said about the pencil, i didn’t mean for it to come off that way. i was just saying because i have a lot of them so it wouldn’t have made a difference. and i was guessing maybe you didn’t. wait–no. i meant like if you didn’t–.not that i think you can’t get your own pencils or anything like that because i am super sure you can. but if you need it you can keep it. not that you need it right? because everyone needs a pencil. like one time i–”

you stare at him as he rambles on. you’re completely endeared with the way he doesn’t look you in the eyes and the way his hands move around to prove his point.

he huffs out a breath of frustration. you on the other hand huff out a breath of amusement and the stranger before you finally moves to look at you.

“it’s okay.” you dismiss his worries, standing their idly as you mirror his movements.

“i just thought i might have inconvenienced you by asking,” you tell him honestly, you grab your computer and gently store it away in your backpack as you continue your conversation, “im usually prepared, but i accidentally left my pencil bag in the library this morning.”

he gives you a tiny affirmative nod, taking in your words. he swings his backpack over his shoulder, and loops both arms into their respective loops, wearing the backpack on both shoulders.

cute.

there's an awkward silence that follows you both before the door slams shut and you realize then that the professor has now walked out.

the stranger huffs out a small awkward laugh, “you didn’t–by the way,” he speaks then, “inconvenience me, I mean”, he clarifies. now it’s your turn to nod at him.

this is so awkward, it almost makes you laugh.

he breaks the silence again, “im satoru gojo, by the way.” he politely introduces himself by extending his hand in a respectful manner.

you extend yours in return, shaking his hand before sharing your name with him as well.

“i have time to kill,” he offers, “why don’t we take a walk around campus before then? the weather is great.”

after your shared walk with gojo you learned a lot about him.

he recently discovered his interest in kpop after his friend, shoko, played a song during a shared car ride.

he’s a senior, like you, studying engineering and double minoring in business and mathematics. he originally wanted to minor in physics but he said his father urged him to do business instead. he had to compromise.

that doesn’t stop him from taking physics courses out of pure enjoyment though, exceeding the 18 credit limit.

he’s also an on-campus tutor and does a work study job at the library. the old librarian on campus loves him and appreciates his extensive knowledge on literature and figured that if he spent all his time there already, might as well let him get paid for him.

when she approached him, his ears turned a light shade of pink and you could just imagine gojo pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before they slipped as he hurried to apologize.

she waved him off and urged him to just work there already. gojo then started working with them a week later after financial aid finalized the paperwork. he remembers the look of the financial aid lady when she looked at his file and saw that he was beyond in need of financial aid.

all she did was raise and eyebrow but clicked away. thankfully, gojo managed to get the work-study payments signed off as a form of volunteering hours rather than an extra below minimum wage salary.

he didn’t share with you the last part about his tiny altercation with financial aid though. he assumed you had no idea who he was. and you hoped to keep it that way.

you in turn shared with him that you were transferred from another school. he already knew that (he paid a visit to the dean but he’ll never tell you that, given that the dean is his uncle afterall) he didn't know why. so, he asked.

“i transferred because there were some personal issues there and now i just want to start fresh.”

gojo raises a questioning eyebrow, but decides to respect your privacy. he hopes one day you’ll trust him enough to tell him.

the rest of the chat was quite delightful. you were about to invite him to the cute nearby cafe you saw on your way to school, but before you could muster up the courage.

a chime was heard from gojos pants pocket. he excused himself to check his phone. you stood there idly as he let out a tiny groan of frustration.

“im sorry–” he apologized again. the look of pure regret made your lip quirk up again. he was so cute and polite.

“i hate to cut our…trip—short but it kind of slipped my mind that i scheduled a study group with a class i T.A. for.”

you wave him off, “it’s okay!” you reassure him with an upbeat tone in your voice, “we share a class so i’ll see you around.”

he bids you a quick goodbye and you watch his retreating figure. you sigh and head to the opposite direction.

this semester will be exciting.

feel more than welcome to submit a request <3 . join my tag list : ⟢ join my girlypop disc: link ‹𝟹

TAGLIST : @luvwithau : @sugacor3 : @bloopsstuff : @fushitoru : @serenityfauna : @luna-v-roiya : @rjswrld : @fartm : @bammbi-jeon127 : @gojoslefttoenail : @laviefantasie : @red-viewe : @danakul : @xchannelorange : @honoredalone : @plutosgold : @jotarohat : @shadowytiger : @um-no-ok : @lavender-hvze : @nvmlolo : @rintcrous : @jaelahh-blog-blog : @fuckerenyaeger : @bigbodiezz : @simp-plague : @lialia3945 : @gojostit : @fangirlingoverfanfic : @deluluforcarlos55 : @manyno :

omg! i didn't realize how many people signed up for my taglist <33 tysm ! currently working on a masterlist too. long shot gojo. i have not forgotten you.

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player042 · 6 months ago

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HER SUN, HIS MOON | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: opposites attract, they say, but absolutely no one could prepare you for the impact dae-ho would have in your life. requested here.

warning: pre squid game au, grumpy x sunshine dynamics, reader has personality similar to sae-byeok's, kinda colleagues to friends to lovers, heart-melting dae-ho being utterly smitten and protective, mention of fighting and blood, prepare for banter and love that feels like the perfect balance, and please enjoy ♥️

word count: 3.7k

Dae-ho and you were written in the stars. Not in words, but through a bond that neither time nor reason could break. As if the universe itself had signed a soul contract on your behalf, interlinking the two of you forever, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Because you could think of no other explanation for how you and Dae-ho had found your way to each other.

For he and you were opposites in every conceivable way. He was golden hours spent laughing, and you were the quiet serenity of midnight. He was the light on a summer day, you were the shadow on a winter night. He was a golden retriever, bounding through life with enthusiasm and a need to love and be loved, while you were the black cat, aloof and deliberate, your affection hard-earned and fiercely given. He was the proverbial sunshine boyfriend, and you? The grumpy girlfriend, even if you'd never admit it aloud.

You still remembered the early days before you were together. Back then, you had avoided entanglements, thinking emotions were too unpredictable, too messy. Dae-ho, on the other hand, had been nothing but heart, an open book that practically had shouted his feelings with every glance, every action. Easygoing. Flirty. Compassionate. Gentle. Funny. Supportive. That's how he'd always been. You had worked at the same bookstore café as part-timers, making money on the side while studying at uni, and he had been the kind of coworker who brought in homemade snacks to share, who remembered the regulars' orders, who lit up every corner of the room just by being there

And you? You had preferred the quiet. You'd worked the closing shift to avoid the chaos, stocked the shelves in peace, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. Yet somehow, Dae-ho had decided you were his favorite person in the room.

Work had been slow that day, the kind of lazy afternoon where time seemed to drag. You had been in the back, sorting through new stock, when Dae-ho had appeared like a whirlwind of energy. As usual, he had brought his sunshine into the room, whistling a tune as he had sauntered over to where you had been crouched on the floor.

"Need a hand?" he asked, grinning as he leaned casually against the shelf. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you wary.

"No," you said simply, focusing on the stack of books in front of you. "I'm fine."

"That's debatable," he replied, crouching down next to you. "You've been glaring at those books like they owe you money. Which, knowing you, isn't completely impossible."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "They're disorganized. It's irritating."

"I think you mean it's irresistible," he corrected, emphasizing the word as he tilted his head to get a better look at your face. "Because you're clearly putting all your energy into ignoring the most charming guy in the room."

You'd turned to him then, giving him a flat look. "Charming? You?"

His hand went to his chest, mock offense lighting up his features. "Ouch. That hurts. Right here." He tapped his heart, then flashed you an exaggerated pout. "You wound me."

"Good," you shot back, turning back to the books. "Maybe it'll teach you some humility."

He let out a soft laugh, his voice dipping lower. "Nah, I think I'll keep my ego intact, thanks. It's my best feature. Or… is it my smile? You've been staring at it a lot lately, so maybe I should ask you."

Your fingers froze on the book in your hand, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, and worse, he lived for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said smoothly, though your face betrayed you with the faintest hint of pink in your cheeks.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer. "Don't play coy with me. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

You turned to glare at him, which only made him grin wider. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice was soft now, his gaze steady as he inched just a bit closer. "Because I'd bet my entire paycheck that you're thinking about how good I'd look kissing you right now."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's a terrible bet," you deadpanned with your best pokerface, setting the book aside. "You don't even make that much."

His laughter echoed in the small space, rich and full of delight. "See? That's exactly why you're my favorite."

"You're annoying," you retorted, standing up and dusting off your jeans.

"And yet, you keep me around." He stood as well, towering over you slightly. His boyish grin softened into something more genuine, his eyes lingering on yours. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

You had rolled your eyes, "You wish."

"I do," he remarked, "And you love it," he winked at you before strolling off, whistling that same tune as before.

And damn it, you did love it.

No one understood it back then. This thing you two had. They still didn't understand. How could someone so effervescent, so outwardly bright, have chosen someone so reserved, so calculated? How could two people so different orbit each other with such ease? But honestly, they didn't need to understand. It was him and you that counted. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced in your differences, inseparable in ways that defied explanation.

And so, it began, this undefined connection between you. Gradually, you found yourselves spending more and more time together. Dinners after work became a casual routine, and weekends often led to shared nights out at bars.

On one particular Saturday night, the bar you went to was packed; the air buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. It was one of those rare nights where you let yourself relax, even though relaxing wasn't exactly your forte. Of course, it helped that Dae-ho was there, his larger-than-life presence somehow managing to make you forget how crowded and loud the place was.

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, while Dae-ho leaned against the counter beside you, a mischievous grin perpetually plastered on his face. He was in rare form all evening, tossing out jokes and one-liners, testing just how far he could push your usual stoic demeanor.

"Come on," he teased, nudging your arm gently. "I know, you're having fun. You're smiling. At least on the inside."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "I don't smile."

"Not true," he countered, wagging a finger at you. "You smiled that one time when I tripped on the stairs."

"That wasn't a smile," you clarified with absolutely no emotion in your face, "That was schadenfreude."

"Call it whatever you want," he replied with a wink. "It still counts."

Your lips twitched slightly at that, betraying a flicker of amusement you tried to hide. Of course, Dae-ho noticed instantly, pointing at you triumphantly.

"Aww, I'm growing on you."

"Like mold," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink to mask your expression.

Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I've been told I have a certain… effect on people. Charm, charisma, devastating good looks, take your pick."

"Is that what your sisters told you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "Ah, there's the sharp tongue I love. Keep it coming, baby."

"Stop calling me that," you grumbled, even as your stomach flipped at the nickname.

As the evening went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm of teasing and banter, your words volleying back and forth like it was second nature. The bustling crowd and occasional jostle of bodies around you became background noise as your attention fixated on each other. What you did notice, however, was how close he's got. His shoulder brushed yours, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke in that low, teasing tone.

"So," he said casually, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how long are you going to keep pretending you don't like me?"

You snorted, leaning back slightly in an attempt to create some distance, not that it helped. "What makes you think I like you?"

"Your complete inability to look me in the eye when I do this," he explained, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture had been so smooth, so effortlessly intimate, it left you momentarily speechless.

"Is your ego always this big, or is it just me?" you managed to ask, though your voice had sounded weaker than you intended.

"Just you," he replied, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You bring out the best in me, moonbeam."

Before you could formulate a snappy retort, a commotion erupted behind you. Raised voices and curses cut through the background noise, drawing your attention to a group of men arguing near a table. One of them shoved another, and you instinctively tensed.

"Dae-ho," you hissed, elbowing him. "Something's happening."

"Huh?" He blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from you to glance in the direction of the chaos. "Oh. Looks like a fight."

"Yeah, thanks, Sherlock," you muttered, standing up as the tension escalated. One of the men pulled out a knife, waving it threateningly.

"Let's just get out of here," you grabbed Dae-ho's arm. But before you could pull him away, the fight spilled dangerously close to the bar.

Everything that happened next was a blur. The man with the knife lunged forward, clearly aiming for his opponent, but the latter ducked, and somehow, Dae-ho, who inexplicably stepped forward, took the hit instead.

"Shit!" you yelled, catching him as he stumbled back. The knife had grazed his side, leaving a shallow but nasty wound. Blood seeped through his shirt, and panic had gripped you.

"Dae-ho!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He winced, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess I wasn't."

"No kidding," you snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar to press against his wound. "Who gets stabbed because they're too busy flirting?"

"Is that… your way of admitting I'm hard to resist?" he asked, his voice strained but still tinged with humor.

You glared at him, though your heart was racing for entirely different reasons. "Shut up and sit down. You're bleeding."

"I've had worse," he said, but he sank obediently into a nearby chair, his hand covering yours as you applied pressure to his wound. "Besides, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I was fine," you muttered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who almost got killed because you can't stop playing knight in shining armor."

"Be honest," he said with a weak chuckle. "You'd really miss me if I wasn't around."

You froze at his words, remembering the last time, he's said them, your breath hitching. But this time, the thought of losing him, wasn't so far away. Momentarily, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Don't be stupid," you said softly.

"I knew it! I do have an effect on you," he grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my victory now, thanks."

You rolled your eyes, but the faint tremble in your hands gave you away. "Just… try not to die, okay?"

His grin widened, despite the pain etched across his face. "If it means seeing you worried about me? Worth it."

As much as you wanted to deny it back then, he hadn't been wrong. You would miss him. And that had terrified you more than any knife ever could.

Your relationship had always been a slow burn, like embers catching fire after months of waiting for the perfect conditions. On that rainy Saturday night, after the chaos at the bar, you found yourself driving Dae-ho to the hospital, his side patched up with hastily wrapped gauze that barely held back the bleeding. He sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy dampened by the pain and the rain drumming on the windshield.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered after a while, his head leaning back against the seat.

"Of course I did," you replied without looking at him, your knuckles tight around the steering wheel. "I wasn't going to let you bleed out in some alley."

He chuckled faintly, the sound tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You've got a funny way of showing you care."

You ignored him, keeping your focus on the road, though your heart clenched at the way his voice sounded weaker than usual.

At the hospital, you stayed with him through the stitches, arms crossed over your chest as he cracked half-hearted jokes to distract himself from the needle. When the nurse asked if you were his girlfriend, you didn't bother to deny it, instead rolling your eyes and muttering, "Just patch him up, will you?"

By the time you were finally helping him to his apartment, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. He leaned on you as you guided him up the stairs, his weight a reminder of how fragile this moment felt despite the humor he tried to inject into it.

As you reached the cover of his apartment's awning, you let out a breath, finally releasing your grip on his arm. The warm glow of the entryway light cast over the two of you, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips despite everything.

"I've got to say," he began, leaning heavily against the doorframe, "I think this is the longest you've ever willingly spent with me. Kind of feels like progress."

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're an idiot," you said, shaking your head. "Why do you always make everything a joke?"

"Because someone's gotta balance us out," he quipped, though his grin faltered as he studied your face. "You're always so serious, moonbeam."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of rain filling the silence. He tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push further. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "Why do you act like you don't care when I know you do?"

His question caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice digging into the walls you'd carefully built around yourself. You looked away, the words forming in your throat before you could stop them. "Because caring about people… it hurts. And I've had enough of that."

Silence stretched between you again, heavier this time. When you finally looked at him, the teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't get it," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

"Don't get what?"

"You. Why you're always so nice to me."

He tilted his head as he studied you through the rain. "Because you're worth it," he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his voice soft but certain. "And because I like you."

The words caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. You could only stare at him, the rain a gentle soundtrack to the weight of his confession.

"Say something, moonbeam," he teased, his grin crooked but genuine.

The rawness of his words, the way he had said them like a promise, made something inside you snap. Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching for his collar. You kissed him, tentative at first, your lips brushing against his like you were testing the waters. He froze, clearly surprised, but only for a short moment. Then his hands were on your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a tenderness that belied his usual boldness.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of blood and rain, made your head spin. It wasn't rushed or frantic, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn't want to miss a single second of it. When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unreadable.

"That's a good start," he murmured, his fingers brushing a raindrop from your cheek.

And that was the night everything shifted.

Even now, years later, as you sat curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, that kiss lingered in your memory, replaying in these quiet moments like a favorite song. You hadn't realized it then, but that kiss had marked the beginning of a life you'd never imagined for yourself, a life with him. You were lazily scrolling through your phone, as the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that told you Dae-ho was busy doing something, blending with the faint hum of his voice as he moved about.

You smiled to yourself, tracing the worn fabric of the hoodie with your fingertips.

"Babe," his voice called from the kitchen, teasing and light, pulling you from your thoughts, "if I bring you coffee in bed, does that make me husband material, or is it too early for that kind of promotion?"

You snorted, setting your phone down as you stretched. "You've gotta stop campaigning so hard, Dae-ho. It's getting desperate."

He appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee and wearing the kind of grin that made your stomach flip. "Desperate? Honey, this is a demonstration of premium boyfriend services." He crossed the room, setting the mugs on the coffee table before flopping down next to you.

"Premium?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even bring toast."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Are you doubting the quality of my care and devotion?"

"I'm just saying," you replied with a smirk, "a little effort wouldn't kill you."

"Oh, you want effort?" he teased, leaning over you, his face suddenly much closer than you anticipated. His arm stretched over the back of the couch, caging you in just slightly. "Name it, and it's yours."

You stared at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Okay. Toast. I want toast."

He narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "You sure about that? Not, I don't know, me? Because I'm sitting right here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed as he leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something warmer. "You're still annoying," you said under your breath, trying to sound in-fact annoyed, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you intended.

"And you're adorable," he shot back, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think we're even."

The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer until your legs were tangled together, his thumb idly tracing circles over the fabric of your hoodie.

"You look good in my clothes," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Almost too good. How am I supposed to let you out of this apartment now?"

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up, even as your heart raced. "Who said I was going anywhere?"

His grin widened at your response, and before you could say anything else, he turned you with a swift motion, settling you on top of him so that your legs straddled his hips. The shift left you breathless, your bare thighs brushing against his sides as his hands splayed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now, a little rougher around the edges. His dark eyes held yours, their usual playfulness tempered with something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter. "Because I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head back slightly, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your hip. "You, moonbeam," he murmured, his gaze intense. "You're addicting. Like I'm craving something I can't ever stop wanting."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart thudding in your chest. You tried to compose yourself, to play it cool, but the way he looked at you made it impossible to be unaffected. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. "Dae-ho," you softly said his name the way you knew it drove him crazy, "You keep talking like that, and I might think you're the romantic one in this relationship."

His lips quirked into a smirk, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer. "Don't think. Know. And I'll keep proving it until you never question it again."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the warmth of his presence. "You're setting the bar pretty high for yourself, you know."

He shrugged, his hands never leaving your waist, "That just means I have to keep finding ways to spoil you."

In that moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together. His hands slowly slid down to your thighs now, his thumbs brushing over your skin, while his gaze never left yours. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms circled back around you, holding you impossibly close as though you might vanish if he didn't.

"I told you," he murmured against your lips. "Addicting."

"I know," you said softly, capturing his lips in another slow kiss. "And that's why I love you."

His boyish grin returned against your lips, softer this time, "I love you, too. But I'm still not getting up for toast."

You burst out laughing, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss against your jaw. Right then and there, everything felt right, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. You smiled, letting yourself melt into him, and you thought to yourself that this was where you were meant to be. Not because he was your sun or you were his moon, but because together, you created something whole.

Something timeless.

Something infinite.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

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too-deviant · 1 year ago

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strategic manoeuvre.

— WITH…ART DONALDSON!

contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios

You had never been interested in tennis before Art.

You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else.

But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway.

You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire.

Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis.

It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks.

You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa.

“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for.

Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning.

(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).

It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits.

“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”

We she’d said. As in her and Art.

You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel.

From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation.

The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in.

It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out.

You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready.

You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together.

He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her.

But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left.

But.

But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back.

You were evil. Truly. The guy was married.

But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave.

The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.

(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).

But tonight was different. In more ways than one.

In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned.

You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night.

Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”

He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”

“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble.

He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”

You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”

“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.”

Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.

The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out.

Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing.

“Lily likes you.”

You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.”

“Tashi likes you.”

You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths.

“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”

“What?”

“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?”

“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.”

“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.”

“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.”

He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it.

The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car.

But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal.

“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”

Out of all the things…

“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards.

“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”

“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now.

He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face.

“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”

“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth.

He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you.

You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes.

“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning.

Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”

He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far.

You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own.

His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair.

When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches.

You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it.

Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared.

You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up.

Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours.

“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.”

(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).

divider by @cafekitsune !!

#art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art challengers #art donaldson smut #babysitter!reader #challengers #challengers movie #@lia’s works #tashi duncan

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peachesofteal · 11 days ago

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Like Real People Do previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader - hospital au CW: withdrawal of care and death of an infant in NICU setting

Tess was a rodeo queen.

She could answer “what do you do for a living?” with “I’m a professional barrel racer.” She had the ribbons and the trophies and the money to prove it.

It’s where the farm came from, all the earnings. She and Liam had big dreams, a legacy, a plan. They had it all, and you had travel nursing contracts, vacations to the BVI, and long nights you only remember half of. Every time you came home, worked a few months in the ED here before skipping out again, she had a new title, a new sponsorship, or a new project. And there was pressure. So much of it.

“If you come home for good you can stay in the house with us. Blue misses you.” The swing’s metal chain creaks as you push off with the toe of your boot. Life is so different here. It’s slower. Sweeter. Dustier. Still, it’s hard to look at everything you grew up with and say you want it back.

“I’m too young to settle down.”

“We’re ten months apart!” You snicker, and she chucks one of the strawberries from the bowl at you. “You could build a house on the land if you wanted.”

“Yeah, with all my house building money?” Build a house. It sounds so… domestic.

“Maybe if you stopped taking vacations everywhere you’d have something left over.”

“So sorry I’m living my life.” It’s a dig and you both know what you mean, but she’ll still bite.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You don’t mean to hurt her. You don’t like hurting her, but she expects something from you, something you can’t give. At least not right now.

“You didn’t leave Tess. You stayed here, bought land thirty minutes from where we grew up. I mean, you did it better for sure. You’re barrel racing like you always dreamed but… I didn’t want it. You can’t fault me for that.” She wipes her hands across her thighs as she stands, smears strawberry seeds across her jeans and shakes her head. Conversation over.

“Let me know when you’re ready to grow up.” You let it go. It’s not worth the fight.

“You’re not going to win you know.” She pauses in the door way, and flashes you that know it all smile over her shoulder.

“Don’t I always though?”

Jokes on you. She won in the end.

“Thanks so much, I really appreciate it. Anything I can do to return the favor, I’ve got you.”

“Do you have pictures?” Isa gives you a kind smile. Her interest warms you, and you nod, pulling your phone out to scroll through the too many photos of Riley you took this morning at her first day of school, smiling big with a missing front tooth. “She’s precious.”

“Yeah. She’s something. First day of third grade, crazy.” Keona slows in front of you with Doctor Riley right behind her, and there’s a confused wrinkle marring her brow.

“I didn’t know you had a kid. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh I… it didn’t come up I guess.” Lie. There were so many times you could have brought Riley up, but you dodged or ignored each one. You glance up and what a surprise… Doctor Riley is staring at you, studying like he’s picking you apart in his brain. Key looks genuinely hurt though and guilt twists your heart. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been a little stressed and so focused on learning.” She nods, and you think she’s going to push it but you’re saved by an alarm, all of you taking off at the sound.

Saved was the wrong sentiment.

You weren’t saved from a conversation by this, this moment. This moment is hell.

“She’ll breathe on her own for a little while after we take the tube out, and you can hold her.” Doctor Riley tells the parents softly. Ryan and Alexa. They’ve been here for weeks, watching Rosie fade while holding out hope. So much hope. You’re devastated for them.

“Do you want to sit down?” You’ve already turned off all the sounds, anything that beeps or dings or blares, and disconnected all the leads, the lines. The only thing left is the vent.

“How long will she… how long will it be?” Ryan’s voice is broken. Shattered.

“We can’t know. Not long.” Doctor Riley looks to you, to where you’re waiting to flip the power, and then he’ll pull the tube. “Are you ready?”

“No.” Alexa sobs, shaking in the rocking chair she’s been sitting in since they got here, but Ryan nods, gives the go ahead.

“Okay.” You do it fast, as fast as you can. It’s like ripping off a bandaid, and you don’t want them to see it, don’t want them to remember the sound of the machine powering down. Doctor Riley frees her from the tube and gently lifts her to pass her to Ryan, cradling her head, supporting her neck and her little body, all of her so small in his arms, so fragile.

“Thank you Daisy.” He’s giving you permission to bolt, but you stand stuck to the floor. It feels wrong to run, it feels like you’re bailing on them, on Rosie.

So you don’t.

You pull her blanket out of the crib and tuck it around where she’s now resting in Alexa’s arms. It’s hand knit by Rosie’s grandmother, pink and yellow, little elephants artfully woven across the bottom, and once you’re done, you turn on the soft lamp behind the chair, angling so it’s not harsh but still enough they can see every little detail of their daughter’s face. So they can memorize her, every little wisp of her hair, the curve of her nose, each tiny delicate eyelash.

And then you leave.

You don’t run from the room. You keep your spine straight, chin lifted. You don’t stop at the nurses station, where Isa and Key are waiting to comfort you as they promised they would be. You don’t stop at the break room, or the bathroom or the empty call rooms. You keep walking, down the end of the hall until you reach the double doors and burst through them into the sun.

You breathe as deep as you can, and hold it. You hold it until you can’t anymore, and then do it again. And again. You try to burn them from your mind, Alexa’s face, Rosie’s weak little cry, but it’s no use. You hate this place. You hate it. You hold your breath again, this time longer, long enough until you start to feel like you might die. It’s better, it’s worse, so you do it again. You’re holding your breath against burning lungs when the doors bang open.

“Daisy.” He’s never said your name like that before. It’s not harsh or acidic or impatient. It’s the opposite. You hate that too.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” It’s said on the exhale released from your sternum, an explosive rush of air punching free from your mouth.

“Take as long as you need.” You don’t answer because you’re too busy patching up the cracks, focusing on breathing in and holding it again, controlling it. You block him out, which is why you don’t realize right away that he’s now standing in front of you, close enough you can see the stitching on the sleeve of his scrubs. “These moments are hard. It’s okay if it affects you, it should affect you. It’s okay to let it out.” You keep your eyes fixed on his chest. Focused.

“I know.” The control is unwavering. Unrelenting. You are a machine. And for good measure, you offer a succinct nod and smile. See? I’m fine.

“There’s no shame in-”

“I know, Doctor Riley. Thank you.” You cut him off, dismiss him. Or try to.

“Daisy.” This fucking man. Something about him is trying to shred your control. Make you weak.

“I’m fine.”

“Let’s go inside.” A minuscule flicker of need ignites in your soul. It begs you to listen, to trust, let the control slip, let go, just for a second. You close your eyes and dangle over the abyss.

If you fell, would someone catch you?

Would he?

It’s a sweet dream, a lovely fantasy. But not for you.

“I’m due for my break actually, so I’m probably going to go down to the cafeteria. Can you let Key know?”

“Daisy,” he murmurs, wraps your name in velvet. “Look at me.” You do it in defiance, to get him off your back. You don’t even know why he’s out here in the first place. What does he care? He hates you. You take a breath, hold it, and meet his eyes, surprised when you don’t see the usual anger or irritation. There’s something else in them instead, something tender and understanding, concerned. “You took great care of Rosie and her parents. They-” No.

“Doctor Riley. I’m on my break. It’s my personal time. If we need to speak about work, we can do it once I’m back.” The muscle in his cheek flutters as the masseter flexes. The average PSI of the human jaw is around one hundred and twenty. His must be triple that.

“If that’s what you want.” The words are cold. Back to baseline, squashing that tiny blossom of need.

Good.

“That’s what I want.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #lrpd fic

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thatonegrimm · 8 days ago

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✨100 Follower Special 2k✨

💪 Huntrix vs. You: Training Day

Summary: When the Huntrix girls invite you to a “light training session,” you expect a warm-up. What you get is pain, sweat, and the Saja Boys crashing the scene in various states of panic, snack warfare, and overprotective boyfriend energy. Between chaotic sparring, flaming Cheetos, and bonding by bonfire, one thing becomes clear: surviving training day means earning your place—and maybe a marshmallow to the face.

-----------------------

“This isn’t training,” you panted, bent over with your hands on your knees. “This is hazing. This is murder.”

Mira didn’t even glance up from her squat hold. “Your form’s collapsing. Reset your stance.”

“My legs are collapsing.”

Across the field, Zoey twirled her dagger in one hand while dramatically yelling, “PAIN IS JUST A SIGNAL THAT YOU’RE ALIVE.” She high-fived a tree and turned back toward you. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie!”

You weren’t.

You were absolutely dying.

“Come on,” Rumi said calmly, standing in a perfect warrior pose like this was yoga with violence. Her spirit blade floated behind her, gently pulsing. “This is just the warm-up.”

You whimpered. “The what—”

Zoey launched herself into a roll across the dirt and came up grinning, twigs in her hair. “This is so fun! I haven’t bullied anyone into core strength in months.”

“Focus,” Mira said sharply. “You’re the one who asked for this.”

“No, I jokingly said I wanted to learn how to fight like a badass.”

“And now you will,” Rumi said, brushing off her sleeves. “You’re dating a squad of literal demons. You need to protect yourself. Or at least survive sparring night.”

You didn’t argue—mostly because you didn’t have the lung capacity.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard yelling.

A moment later, the Saja Boys arrived in full dramatic flair.

Jinu was first, running full-speed down the trail, chest heaving. “I told you not to trust them!”

“They’re not evil,” you called back weakly.

“No,” he said, pointing at Mira. “But she’s got trauma and blades. That’s a training hazard!”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to my success rate.”

Abby arrived behind him, already stretching. “Can I help? I brought protein bars. And ice packs. And—”

“No,” Rumi said smoothly. “This is between us and her.”

Baby arrived with hot cheetos and a GoPro.

Mystery did not arrive. He simply appeared in a nearby shadow and stared at Zoey.

Zoey waved. “Wanna spar later?”

Mystery blinked once.

The Saja Boys gathered in a loose cluster, all varying shades of worried and extremely protective. You stood in the center of the field, sweat-soaked, half-dead, and already regretting every choice that had brought you here.

You straightened slowly, groaning. “Alright. What’s next?”

Mira cracked her knuckles. Rumi’s blade began to glow. Zoey yelled, “SPEED ROUND.”

“Oh god.”

-----------------------

Mira tossed you a wooden practice sword.

You fumbled it. Barely caught it by the hilt.

She didn’t blink. “Good. You’re slower than expected.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Before you could respond with sarcasm, she lunged.

You barely managed to raise the sword in time. The impact rattled your wrists. She moved like lightning—no hesitation, no mercy.

“Form up,” she said, already stepping back. “Use your hips. Tighten your guard.”

“Tighten my— I’m falling apart, Mira!”

Zoey whooped from the sideline. “YES! BATTLE CRY!”

“Focus,” Rumi called.

You couldn’t tell if you were sweating from exertion or terror. Possibly both.

Rumi stood nearby, arms crossed as her spirit blade hovered lazily behind her like it had opinions. She studied your every movement with calm detachment. “Your instincts are good. Don’t second guess.”

“I'm literally guessing everything!”

“You’re improving.”

You weren’t sure if that was encouragement or psychological warfare.

Mira came at you again—this time faster. The impact of her strike knocked your knees loose. You stumbled, hit the ground hard, and wheezed up at the sky like it owed you money.

“Still standing,” Mira said.

“I’m laying down!”

“That counts.”

-----------------------

Across the field, the Saja Boys watched in varying degrees of silent agony.

Abby paced in a circle like a stressed coach. “Should we call timeout? Is there a timeout? I can’t watch her get hit again, bro.”

“She asked to train,” Jinu said, arms crossed but eyes twitching every time Mira swung. “Let her finish the drill.”

“She’s gonna die!” Abby protested.

“She’s not gonna die,” Baby said, filming from the top of a rock. “Probably.”

Mystery appeared silently behind Jinu and whispered, “She just blinked with only one eye. That means brain trauma.”

Jinu cursed. “Okay, that’s it—”

He took a single step forward and instantly froze when Rumi glanced in his direction.

She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She just looked.

Jinu stepped right back.

Romance arrived late, holding a smoothie. “Why does she look like a war criminal and a gym teacher had a baby?”

“She’s winning,” Baby replied.

Romance watched you get knocked into the grass again.

He winced. “...But at what cost.”

-----------------------

You finally hit the ground for the third time in five minutes. Mira backed off, sword down.

“You need water,” she said.

“I need a new body,” you croaked, rolling onto your side.

Zoey practically skidded over, dropping to her knees beside you and pressing her face close. “You’re doing so good! You haven’t thrown up or passed out or cried blood yet!”

You blinked at her. “Are those your metrics?!”

“Also fashion,” she said, adjusting your ponytail. “But that’s a separate workshop.”

Rumi walked over with a towel and a bottle of water. “You made it through the warm-up.”

“That was the warm-”

“Let’s rest. Then we’ll do live sparring.”

You groaned.

Behind her, the boys looked ready to riot.

Rumi turned slightly. “They can join if they want.”

Five distinct male voices: “Nope.”

You squinted. “What, scared?”

Romance raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fight beautiful people. It’s a personal policy.”

Abby crossed his arms. “I’ll fight if there’s a hug after.”

Jinu muttered something about liability.

Mystery just disappeared again.

-----------------------

Live sparring started with Mira nodding once.

That was your only warning.

You’d barely lifted the sword before she came at you again, curved blade sweeping low. You dodged. You actually dodged.

“Better,” Mira said, and meant it.

Rumi stepped in next, blade humming faintly behind her. She didn’t swing—not yet. Just circled.

“You’re flinching less,” she said, voice calm as ever.

“I’m flinching constantly,” you panted.

“Less.”

Then she lunged.

You weren’t fast enough to block—but you did pivot, managing to duck the blow and slide behind her.

For a moment, the world narrowed. Just you and her.

She turned, not attacking. Watching.

Her voice softened. “You’re stronger than you think.”

You blinked, still catching your breath.

“You don’t have to fight like us,” she continued. “But you do deserve to feel like you’re not just waiting to be rescued.”

The words hit harder than any sparring blow.

“I didn’t ask to be protected,” you said, low.

“I know,” she replied. “That’s why you’re still standing.”

Then she came at you again.

-----------------------

Romance stood up. “Okay. That’s enough. She’s gonna pass out and I just got her to moisturize last night.”

“Sit,” Rumi snapped.

He did. Instantly. Muttering something about girlbosses and trauma.

You swung, blocked, and—miracle of miracles—managed to tap Rumi’s shoulder with the hilt of your practice sword.

You gasped. “Did I just—”

“You landed a hit,” she said, lips twitching like it might be a smile. “Barely.”

“I’ll take it.”

Then Zoey sprinted in out of nowhere, yelling “CHAOS ROUND!” and tackled you both into the dirt.

-----------------------

It all escalated very fast after that.

Baby joined in immediately, launching a handful of flaming Cheetos into the air like a battle cry. They caught fire mid-arc—because of course they did—and he shouted, “FOR THE SPICE GODS!” as Mira tackled him mid-snack.

They went down in a blur of limbs and swearing. Abby screamed “NO FRIENDLY FIRE!” and power-lifted both of them out of the blast zone like they weighed nothing. Mira shrieked. Baby kept chewing.

Rumi tried to call for order, only to get a water bottle thrown at her head. (It was empty. Probably.)

Jinu attempted to mediate—arms raised, voice calm, diplomatic instincts activated.

“Let’s all take a breath and—”

He got a dodgeball to the chest so hard he flew back a full meter. That ended the diplomacy.

Romance sat on a bench and live-commentated the entire disaster like it was a runway show.

“Ooh, Abby’s going for the overhead throw—excellent form. Mira's back up—yes, queen, block him with your trauma. Wait, is Baby biting people again—? Incredible.”

And Mystery?

He didn’t join the chaos. Didn’t even flinch when a piece of flaming snack debris landed an inch from his foot. He just appeared at your side—already there, somehow—offering you a cold bottle of water like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. It was open. You hadn’t seen him open it.

“You did well,” he said, his voice low and calm, eyes glowing faintly beneath the curtain of his bangs.

You took the bottle, still breathless, and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Are you proud, or are you plotting something?”

A pause. A slow blink.

“Yes,” he replied.

-----------------------

After the chaos died down and Zoey stopped threatening to bench-press Abby with “girl strength,” the group finally collapsed around a bonfire Abby built with terrifying speed.

You curled up in a blanket, exhausted but buzzing from adrenaline.

Rumi handed you a cup of ginger tea. “You kept up. You didn’t quit. You’re one of us now.”

You smiled faintly. “Is that a compliment or a threat?”

“Yes,” she said.

Romance flopped down beside you, draping a hoodie over your shoulders like it was a cape.

“You look wrecked,” he said sweetly. “It’s hot.”

You leaned on him. “My everything hurts.”

“You should let me kiss it better.”

Jinu threw a marshmallow at his head.

After the chaos died down and Zoey stopped threatening to bench-press Abby with “girl strength,” the group finally collapsed around a bonfire Abby built with terrifying speed.

You curled up in a blanket, exhausted but buzzing from adrenaline. Your muscles trembled from exertion, but there was a strange pride blooming in your chest. You weren’t dead. You hadn’t even cried. Not visibly, anyway.

Rumi handed you a cup of ginger tea, still steaming.

“You kept up. You didn’t quit. You’re one of us now.”

You smiled faintly, voice scratchy from overexertion.

“Is that a compliment or a threat?”

She sipped her own tea without blinking.

“Yes.”

Romance flopped down beside you with theatrical groaning, then gently draped his hoodie over your shoulders like a cape.

“You look wrecked,” he said sweetly. “It’s hot.”

You leaned on him with a quiet groan.

“My everything hurts.”

“You should let me kiss it better.”

Across the fire, Jinu—calm, composed, covered in grass stains—flicked a marshmallow at his head with perfect accuracy. It hit Romance squarely in the forehead and stuck.

“HEY!” Romance yelped, flailing slightly. “You nearly gave me a concussion!”

“Behavior,” Jinu said flatly, not looking up from tending the flames.

Zoey wheezed, clutching her stomach as she fell off the log. Mira, cool as ever, silently confiscated the entire bag of marshmallows. Abby was already roasting three of them on a long stick, humming what sounded like a workout remix of a lullaby.

Then Mystery appeared beside you again, as if summoned by the smoke. He didn’t say anything—just dropped a snack-sized bag of your favorite chips into your lap without fanfare.

“You didn’t die,” he said mildly, almost like praise. “Well done.”

You smiled, finally relaxing into the soft sprawl of bodies and blankets and flickering warmth. Someone passed around roasted marshmallows. Someone else was arguing about who had the best footwork during the chaos tackle.

And you? You weren’t just enduring anymore.

In that moment, in that circle of chaos gremlins and battle queens and overprotective demon boys, you belonged.

-----------------------

A/N: no hunters, demons, or cheetos were harmed in the making of this training montage. reader’s pride, however, is in critical condition.

M-List

Taglist: @honey-and-sweetdreams @lyunsafebubble

#kpdh x reader #saja boys x reader #baby x reader #jinu x reader #abby x reader #mystery x reader #romance x reader #kpop demon hunters #kpdh #rumi kpdh #mira kpdh #zoey kpdh #follower special

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mostlysignssomeportents · 17 days ago

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Antitrust defies politics’ law of gravity

I'm in the home stretch of my 24-city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in LONDON NEXT TUESDAY (July 1) with TRASHFUTURE'S RILEY QUINN and then a big finish in MANCHESTER NEXT WEDNESDAY (July 2).

In 2014, I read a political science paper that nearly convinced me to quit my lifelong career as an activist: "Testing Theories of American Politics: Elites, Interest Groups, and Average Citizens," published in Perspectives on Politics:

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/perspectives-on-politics/article/testing-theories-of-american-politics-elites-interest-groups-and-average-citizens/62327F513959D0A304D4893B382B992B

The paper's authors are Martin Gilens, a UCLA professor of Public Policy; and Northwestern's Benjamin Page, a professor of Decision Making. Gilens and Page studied a representative sample of 1,779 policy issues, analyzing the effect that the preferences of different groups of people had on the outcome. They wanted to find out what drove policy: money, or popularity?

It's money. It's totally, utterly money. When billionaires want something, it literally doesn't matter how much the rest of us hate it, they're gonna get their way. When billionaires hate something, it doesn't matter how popular it is with the rest of us, we're not gonna get it. As Gilens and Page put it:

economic elites and organized groups representing business interests have substantial independent impacts on U.S. government policy, while average citizens and mass-based interest groups have little or no independent influence.

I know the cynics out there are hollering "no duh" at their computers right now, but bear with me here. Gilens and Page's research shows that you and I have no voice in policy outcomes. Based on these findings, the only way we can change society is to try and woo oligarchs so they champion our cause. This reduces democracy to a competition to see who can pour the most honey into a plutocrat's ear. Mass mobilizations – millions of people in the streets – only matter to the extent that they bring a tear to a billionaire's eye.

This just shattered me. I've been haunted by it ever since. I've tried some tactical gambits based on this data, but honestly, I don't want to improve the world by swaying the ultra-rich. Mostly, I've spent the decade since I read the Gilens/Page paper working on mass mobilizations and mass opionion-influencing. I reasoned (or maybe rationalized) that while oligarchs were running the nation now, that was subject to change, and that was a change that I was sure wouldn't come from America's plutocrats committing mass class-suicide.

Then, something incredible happened. All this decade, a tide of antitrust vigor has swept the planet. The EU has passed big, muscular tech competition laws like the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act, and has by God enforced them, and have patched the enforcement weaknesses in the GDPR. EU member-states – France, Germany, Spain – have passed their own big, ambitious national laws that go further than DSA/DMA. Even Ireland – a country that deliberately prostrated itself to US Big Tech – is getting in on the act, with the country's Social Media Czar railing against the "enshittification" of tech:

https://www.independent.ie/business/technology/chairman-of-irish-social-media-regulator-says-europe-should-not-be-seduced-by-mario-draghis-claims/a526530600.html

Not just the EU, of course. Australia and Canada have taken some big swings at Big Tech, and Canada is pressing ahead with its digital services tax of 3% for onshore earnings of tech companies with more than CAD20m in annual turnover, despite the fact that Trump has promised to end all trade talks with Canada in retaliation:

https://financialpost.com/technology/canadas-digital-services-tax-g7

Antitrust fever has swept both of the world's superpowers. Under Trump I, the DOJ and FTC brought key cases against Facebook and Google, and then Biden's antitrust enforcers went to town on all forms of monopoly, carrying on the Trump cases and reviving some of the law's most elegant weapons from a more civilized age, like the Robinson-Patman Act:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2025/01/ftc-sues-pepsico-rigging-soft-drink-competition

Admittedly, Trump's FTC and DOJ have carried on some of Biden's work, even as they've killed some of the Biden era's most important cases, and made a general Trumpian mockery of the idea that antitrust law is a tool for economic justice:

https://economicpopulist.substack.com/p/weekly-rewind-62725

Trump killing antitrust law is normal. That's what politics have been like for this whole century, and it's what politics are like in every other domain: billionaires get their way on climate, on labor, on whatever bullshit they get into their fool fucking heads:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/celebrities/2025/06/27/jeff-bezos-lauren-sanchez-married-wedding-venice/84349820007/

But it's a mistake to think that Trump killed antitrust enforcement in the USA out of a special conservative deference to millionaires and enthusiasm for corrosive and predatory monopolies. In the UK, four consecutive Conservative Prime Ministers presided over the best competition law enforcement in British history – and it was Labour's Keir Starmer who fired the head of the UK Competition and Markets Authority and replaced him with the ex-head of Amazon UK:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/22/autocrats-of-trade/#dingo-babysitter

It is completely normal for both "progressive" and "conservative" parties to wield the entire apparatus of state to the benefit of powerful monopolists. The antitrust enforcement – in the US, the UK, the EU, Australia, Germany, France and Spain – are totally aberrant. And it's not just in these countries where political science's law of gravity reversed itself: there've been giant, brutal antitrust cases in Japan and South Korea, and China has passed aggressive tech antitrust laws that strike directly at the giant Chinese tech companies that Cold War 2.0 creeps insist are just branches of the Chinese Communist Party:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/07/backstabbed/#big-data-backstabbing

This is fucking wild.

This is water flowing uphill.

This is pigs flying.

This is hell freezing over.

There is no billionaire constituency for antimonopoly work. Oligarchs aren't funneling dark money to trustbuster orgs. Antimonopoly work strikes at the beating heart of the system that creates and sustains billionaires.

This is a political outcome that the people want, and that billionaires hate, and billionaires are losing.

How is this happening? Why is this happening? I don't know, exactly. I suspect that some of this is related to Stein's Law: "anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Monopolists corrupt our political system, maim and impoverish workers, gouge their customers on enshittified, overpriced garbage. They are an existential threat to the survival of the human species.

The system is so broken and the mainstream of politics endlessly gaslights us, telling us that corrupt and degraded institutions are either just fine ("America Was Always Great" -H. Clinton) or need to be destroyed, rather than redeemed ("Delete CFPB" -E. Musk). People know that the system only caters to the whims of billionaires and tells the rest of us to eat shit. They hate the fucking system.

Over and over again, we've seen outbreaks of furious, joyous, uncompromising leftist activism: Occupy, Bernie 2016, Bernie 2020, George Floyd, the Women's March, No Kings, Climate Strikes, on and on. Over and over, liberal "centrists" have joined with the right to crush these movements.

Meanwhile, the right has only moved from strength to strength by offering a libidinal, furious promise of root-and-branch change. The only team that's promising radical change is the right. Parties like UK Labour and the Democrats offer austerity and genocide with slightly more polite aesthetics ("[If I'm elected], fundamentally nothing will change" -J. Biden).

I think that centrist suppression of the left has pushed 90 percent of the energy for major change into right wing nihilist movements, but the anti-corporate, anti-monopolist energy has not dissipated. It's formed a kind of invisible political wind that has filled the sails of these antimonopoly projects all over the world.

But anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. Zohran Mamdani just won the NYC Democratic mayoral primary election. That wasn't supposed to happen. The worst people on Earth showered the hereditary King of New York with so much money it was coming out of his fucking pores and he still ate shit. Guys who've got so much money they were able to get Columbia University to collude in shipping its students off to gulags for having the temerity to oppose genocide tried to do it to Mamdani and we kicked their teeth in.

The world is organized around the whims of billionaires, but it doesn't have to be. Most of us are not esoteric authoritarian freaks pining for a CEO of America who'll track us all using mandatory Fitbits and assign us jobs based on an AI's estimation of our cranial geometry. Those ideas are not popular. Now, it's true that this century has been defined by extremely unpopular ideas winning the day. But anything that can't go on eventually stops.

Sure, they smeared Jeremy Corbyn and replaced him with Austeritybot 3000, and Labour is collapsing as a result, and if an election were called today, Nigel Farage would sweep the board, assuming the PM's seat ahead of a Ba'ath Party style majority.

But on today's Trashfuture podcast, I learned about the leadership contest for the Green Party, in which genuinely progressive candidate, Zack Polanski, is running:

https://backzack.com/

Labour has walked away from voters. The Tories are in chaos. The Libdems permanently discredited themselves in the coalition government. The youthquake that buoyed up Corbyn was driven by a desperate hunger for change. The party grandees that purged Labour of everyone who wanted a better country have created a massive constituency that's up for grabs.

I'm desperate for change, too. I've joined the Greens, and I'll be voting for Polanski in the leadership race:

https://join.greenparty.org.uk/join-us/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/06/28/mamdani/#trustbusting

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Petri Krohn https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chrysler_building-_top.jpg

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#pluralistic #mamdani #antitrust #political science #politics #trustbusting #monopolies #pluralism #stein's law

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