#He's had to have gone through this before

[madamechrissy]

Let me in your ocean, Swim

The five times Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, and the one that works

Pairings- Sukuna x F reader (both like 23/24)

Summary- You have known Sukuna your entire life, and he's infuriated you for most of it. Since you were kids on a playground he was picking on you, and you decided you hate him (love him!?) little do you know, he's been in love with you since the moment you met. There were five times he tried and epically failed to let you know. You all don't see each other for two years after college, when you run into him on Valentine's day at the bar- and you think, what better for getting jilted tonight then a hate fuck from Sukuna!? But... no, in fact he needs to finally tell you the truth. Sukuna 5+1 valentines story

CW- MDNI/NSFW- Idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers (kinda!?) Sukuna is TERRIBLE at feelings, reader is bratty, he is lowkey a bully when you're younger, go through the five times he tried to tell you (intermingles with the current night) sweet, angsty, smutty. Warnings oh boy a lot- Explicit sex, sexual tension, tummy bulges, breed kink, oral sex (m and f recieving) fingering, rough sex, creampie, possessive Sukuna, lots of dirty talk, alcohol underage, use of recreational drugs etc, it's me so ofc we have a lowkey breed kink lol- LONG ONE- 14.8k wc- TRUST ME PLZ lol

tracks for this Breathe // On My Own // Me & U // Wicked Games // The High

Comments/reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyyyy <3

You didn’t expect to be sitting alone at a bar for Valentine’s day, but here you are, dressed to the nines in a beautiful glittery black dress, hair done up, makeup perfect on your skin. You have glittery bangles along your wrist, and red bottom heels, you’re as dressed up as you ever got, but right before your date, your boyfriend decided to break things off with you.

Which leads you to this hole in the wall bar, across the street from the fancy restaurant you’d sat at for an hour waiting on him, only to get broken up via text. Sighing, you order another drink, tensing then when you hear it, the damn voice of the man who you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also had it bad for, for years and years, ever since elementary school.

“Tch, what’re you doing here brat?” You glare up at him, but when you see just how good Sukuna looks, after two years of not seeing him? You falter, lips parted just so as he smirks down at you.

However, his heart is pounding in his chest, despite certainly not showing you outwardly, you take his damn breath away. Sukuna has always found you to be the most beautiful, infuriating little creature in existence. And you’ve just gotten more beautiful, which in itself irritates the shit out of him, it was hard enough acting ‘normal’ around you all his life.

But now?

“What’re you doing here, Kuna?” He snorts, rolling ruby red eyes, leaning against the bar with an elbow propped on it, glaring at you.

“Don’t call me that, god.”

“It irritates you, so I will.” You smile up at him, sipping the rest of your drink, which he eyes disparagingly.

“What’s that pink shit?”

“Oh, like your hair?” You counter, raising a brow, his jaw sets. “Ya want one, Kuna?”

“No, I don’t want your little bitch drink.” You roll your eyes now, as he sits next to you, and your eyes sweep over his starch white dress shirt and black slacks, stretching over muscles that seemed to have only gotten more pronounced since college.

“Not even my cherry, hmm?” You tease, pulling the maraschino out of your cup, dangling it in front of his face.

“That’s long gone, I’m sure, looking all slutty …” He murmurs, right in your ear, you shove at him, scoffing.

“You’re slutty, Sukuna. Pretty sure you fucked a whole sorority last time we caught up?”

“Mmm, rumors, rumors.” He holds up two fingers now. “Gimme something that’s not a little bitch drink, please.”

“So manly, oh heavens!” You pretend to fan yourself and he can’t stop the laughter, but he soon covers it with a glare.

“Get her some more of this pink crap.” He says, and you are a little surprised then, looking at the handsome man who’s had your heart for so long you can’t remember a time before him.

“Are you buying me a drink?”

“I am buying you a drink. I… it’s been a long time.” He misses you, but the words are caught in his throat.

“It has been a long time. Thank you.” You smile as the bartender hands you another dirty Shirley, and hands Sukuna a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He sips at it, eyes darting over your frame, your sexy body that is so well shown in that dress of yours, all he can think of is unzipping it.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” You blink a bit.

“How’d you know I had one?”

Well, Sukuna’s been insta stalking you but he won’t admit it.

“Heard it from our friends, duh. Just because we don’t see each other doesn’t mean I don’t see them.”

“Yeah well, it’s not like… I didn’t want to see you. We left things…”

“Yeah.” He sighs now, running a hand through pastel locks, a hand with black tattoos and black nails, throwing off this corporate vibe he has, something dark about him, but then, there’s always been. “You single on Valentine’s day?”

“I am, officially. Ass of a boyfriend left me across the street via text. And… are you…”

“Yeah, I also got broken up with, but slapped in the face, and in person. Think they planned the shit?” You giggle, shaking your head and sipping your drink, leaning just a bit closer, one of your legs brushing his, strong muscles of his pressing on yours. He damn near moans just at feeling your body after so, so long.

“Maybe they did. I’ve wanted to see you, though… I just…”

“There’s something I wanted to… tell you. Actually. I thought about calling you, but…”

“Yeah? Calling me?”

“So surprising?”

“You hate me? So yeah.”

Sukuna sighs now, sipping his drink again, looking down into your beautiful eyes, your beautiful face, remembering just all those times he’d ruined it with you. Fuck, since the first moment he met you, he was a dick, and pushed you away, all because the shit he feels terrifies him. And over the years, he’s tried, but he thought you were too far gone, nothing but a regret, a memory.

Something to compare every girl he’s with, never you, are they? There’s no one like you.

But you’re here of all places, and though Sukuna thinks shit like ‘signs’ are the dumbest thing ever, he can’t let this pass, not this time. He takes a breath and his lips part, his fingers then brush your hair back, something far too gentle for Sukuna, something that makes your eyes dilate, your little gasp so sexy he can’t think.

“You trying to fuck me tonight?” You ask, and he chuckles, the gentle brush now a rough grip in your hair, leaning over you.

You taste the whiskey on his breath, you feel his lips so close, your breaths mingling, as your hand comes to his shirt, balling the fancy material in your little fist. “That what you want, brat? Me to fuck you finally?”

“Maybe I do.” He freezes then, blinking long lashes, leaning even closer, free hand gripping your waist in the crowded bar. “A hate fuck? Sounds like the perfect thing to forget tonight.”

“Hate fuck, huh?” What you don’t know is, Sukuna is in love with you.

“Never thought of it? I doubt that. I remember things.” You lean even closer, hand now pulling at the nape of your neck, his other hand pressing against your ribcage, thumb right under the swell of your breasts, shooting desire down your tummy, across your body.

“I remember more, trust me. I need… to tell you shit. Okay? Will your bratty ass listen?”

“Make me.”

“I swear to…” You giggle as he slams his lips on yours, exhaling at how good it feels, god was good the word!? How fucking perfect you feel, mushy things he’ll never admit, his heart thudding in his chest. You whimper, this sound from the back of your throat that has him picturing every sound he’s going to elicit from you tonight.

His lips are firm, but surprisingly gentle for Sukuna, different from the couple of kisses over the years, no it’s too much. His tongue slipping between the seam of your lips, and devouring your mouth. Your arms slip up around his neck, kissing him back, arching toward him more and more. Your years of desire come out, your body reacting to his every movement.

You want him.

He needs you.

He pulls back, taking a breath and smirking. “Fucked out expression how? From a kiss?”

“You’re such a dick, I swear to god.” You shove at him now, as the music from the bar vibrates, beating erratic like your heart.

“Listen… if you can actually listen to me tonight, I’ll make you cum so much you won’t even be able to think about your dumb little ex boyfriend. Yeah?” Your chest heaves up and down with your breaths, vivid images spilling through, his white grin flashes under the neon lights. “Can’t think now?”

“I… fucking… okay. I’ll listen to whatever bullshit you want, I guess.”

“Need me that bad?”

“I’m gonna go-”

“No, shit. Shit, no don’t… stop it.” He holds you to him now, sighing as he looks at your pretty scowl, one that just makes him want you more. “Just give me the night to explain some shit, yeah?”

“Fine. But let’s get out of here after this drink.”

“Desperate to be alone, huh?”

“Y’know, that bartender is kinda cute.” You wink at him then, leaning forward, earning Sukuna yanking at your hair. “Ow! Always did that shit.”

“That’s the first thing I wanted to talk about… the day we met.” You rest your chin on your hand now, hair falling just so as he remembers.

*****

The first time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 4th/5th grade (Kuna age 11, Y/N age 10)

You were the new girl, a little shy but so pretty. And well, when you came up to Sukuna and smiled, asking where your class was, he couldn’t even speak, he just stood there, mouth flopping like some fish as you waited. His little brother Yuuji finally answered you, staring at his brother in confusion. ‘it’s right there across the hall’.

“Oh, thank you! What’s your name?” You smile at him then, and your smile is just too… annoying, yes, it annoys Sukuna.

“Yuuji, I’m in fourth grade but Sukuna is in fifth. What grade are you in?” He nudges his brother, who rolls his ruby red eyes.

“I’m in fourth too! Oh, so you’re Sukuna then?” You ask sweetly, turning to Sukuna, something happens then, Sukuna blushes. “Are you okay?”

He scowls at you now. “Of course I am, what’re you looking at?” He demanded, and your mouth opened in surprise.

“What?”

“Yeah, stop staring, new kid.” You roll your eyes now, shaking your head with a narrowing of your own eyes.

“You’re pretty rude.”

“You’re pretty weird.” You scoff then, and Yuuji is waving his arms up and down, stepping between you.

“Be nice, Sukuna. Um, can I walk you to class?” You nod then, giving Sukuna a glare, as Yuuji whispers in his ear.

“You’re such a jerk, she’s pretty.”

“Tch, whatever.” Sukuna watches as you walk off with Yuuji then, he does not like whatever it is you just made him feel. He’s thankful you’re not in any of his classes until you walk right into art, and you’re nervously standing near the teacher. She introduces you, and Sukuna finally learns your name.

“You can sit next to Sukuna!” Sukuna crosses his arms, jaw setting, and you look at him, wondering just what his problem is.

You think he’s really cute, for such a jerk, as you sit next to him and peer over at his sketch, which is actually really good. Trying to still be friendly, you let him know- “that’s awesome!”

Sukuna scoffs, covering it up quickly, no one has really seen his art, and your compliment makes him blush. “I didn’t show you.”

You frown now, brows knitting together. “Um, sorry, but it’s so cool. Could I see more?”

“No!”

“Um…”

“Just stop talking, would you? Bad enough I have to sit by you.” Your lower lip trembles, and Sukuna feels horrible now. “I’m… look, I’m-”

“Sorry.” You whisper, sniffling just a bit and looking at the teacher, and Sukuna hates himself then, he keeps wanting to say something, anything, but when he finally catches you in the hall, you glare at him.

How are you even cuter glaring!?

“Leave me alone, you’re a… a jerk!” You say then, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Me, a jerk? Why because I’m not fawning over the new girl?”

“No, because you… just are a jerk!”

“Well you’re a brat.” Sukuna says, and you gasp, turning angrily and clutching your books, Sukuna rubs his hand over his face, sighing then.

He really messed that up.

*****

You swirl your straw around your cup as Sukuna sips on his whiskey, looking far too damn fine you think, and you know it’s not the couple of drinks in your system. It’s just him and who he is, everything about him since day one drew you in, despite his best efforts at being an ass to you. You smile a bit as you remember the day that you met him.

“You were so mean, for no reason.” You muse softly, he sighs then, running a hand through pink strands of slick backed hair.

“Yeah, I was… then when I tried to apologize, you scowled at me.” You giggle then, the sound ending him completely, the way your cute nose scrunches up, god had he ever told you? Has he ever really said a compliment more than a handful of times to you?

“I was mad at you, for sure. My whole life people really liked me, but you didn’t at all, and I couldn’t fix it.”

“People pleaser.” You sigh at that, leaning a bit on your elbow, breasts showing far too much in your pretty neckline.

“I am, for sure.”

“When you laugh…” He trails off now, psyching himself up, taking a breath as he studies you seriously.

“When I laugh…”

“Your nose scrunches up… it’s cute.” He mumbles, almost like he’s in pain, and you giggle again, making him smile just a bit before he realizes it.

“It is!? Is that a compliment from Sukuna?”

“There are a lot of compliments I have for you. But, yeah, it’s annoyingly cute.” Your giggles relax a bit, as you now bite your lower lip, tempting him to kiss you all over again. “The things I can’t wait to do to you.”

That sobers you up, sending chills across your entire body, desire stark on your pretty face. “Oh yeah?” Your little breathy mumble wrecks him, but outwardly he raises a brow.

“Is that your attempt at being nonchalant, brat? Oh yeah?” He mocks, you shove at him then, as he snorts in laughter.

“Is that your attempt at being sexy- ‘can’t wait to show you little brat’ pshh.” You’re mocking him in a deep tone, Sukuna can’t stop the smirk.

“Bet it worked, bet you’re all wet, hmm?” You pause now, biting your lower lip again, teeth leaving marks when he gently pulls it from your teeth’s grip. “Nothing smart to say?”

“Shut up.” Is all you mumble, and he exhales, ruby eyes glinting as they watch you so carefully, studying your every feature. “So is that what you needed to say? My laugh is kind of cute?”

Sukuna clears his throat now, shifting a bit on the barstool, running a thumb down the glass. “No. The day we met, I should have told you that… you were pretty, and sweet. And I was an ass.” You blink in confusion.

“Sukuna, are you dying or something!? Is this some end of life apology tour!? You better not be, I swear to-”

“Shut it.” He stops you now, a fingertip to your lips. “I ain’t dying, calm down, can a man not… speak on some shit?”

“Sure, but it’s you, like my mortal enemy? Bane of my existence? Bully the entirety of school?”

One of his big hands is brushing against your bare thigh now, you look down at it, all tattooed, veiny, huge… making your tummy flip. “Maybe I wanted to be more than that.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is a breathy whisper, you half wonder if you’re in some dream, Sukuna being nice to you!? Being so close after so long?

“Yeah. So another drink, another story?”

“Hmm, do I get another kiss if I listen?” You tease, feeling the liquor make you bold, warming your insides. Sukuna’s lips quirk up on one side, his breath tickling your neck when he leans close, lips almost brushing against it. You feel your pulse flutter when his plump lips touch the shell of your ear just barely, like a fire igniting inside you, more than any liquor could produce.

“I’ll not just kiss you everywhere, I’ll fucking bite you everywhere, lick you all over, every…” His lips kiss your jaw line. “Pretty.” Your neck. “Inch.” He’s right behind your ear, that sensitive spot, kissing and nipping just so, you bite back a cry and fail, earning his chuckle. “You’re so easy f’me, huh brat?”

“Oh f-fuck you…” Your grumble makes him laugh, the sound tickling you as hiegrips your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “You’re the worst.”

“I know, I have been, for all these years. Ya ready for the next story? Then I promise…” He’s trailing his fingers down your thigh now, making your knees literally knock together, tummy clenching with an insane need you’ve only felt once, back on the last day you all really talked to each other. “Then we can head out of here.”

“Better be good, if it’s boring I’ll leave.” Your half hearted promise just makes him throw his head back in laughter, as he orders two more drinks, loosening his tie just a bit, making your thoughts haywire. “Where to, then? What trip down memory lane of bully Sukuna?”

Sukuna tenses just a bit, the things that he’s held in so long threatening to spill. “Middle school… more specifically, seventh grade, Yuuji’s party?”

It’s your turn to tense, at the brutal memory, so long ago. “Oh…”

*****

The second time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 7th/8th grade (Kuna age 14, Y/N age 13)

 You were boogie skating with these fancy rainbow skates you saved all your allowance for, as all your friends were gathered around, some over at concessions, some at the arcade, some skating alongside you. But Sukuna? He was leaning on the edge of the brightly colored wall, watching no one but you, he could pick you out of anywhere, really.

You were so good at skating too, legs crisscrossing to the beat, your friends and his all murmuring about how good you are at it. You’re giggling as you whisper something to your friend Nobara, her and Yuuji were all best friends, along with Megumi, who was sipping on a coke next to Sukuna and Yuuji.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” Megumi says, and Sukuna scoffs, shrugging.

“I guess.”

“She’s insane at it, she teaches kids and everything.” Yuuji says.

“You got it so bad for her.” Megumi teases, and then Sukuna tenses a bit, looking at you again, then at his brother, who is blushing.

“Nah, she’s just my friend. She’s so pretty though.”

You and Nobara are hopping off the floor, and Nobara looks right at Sukuna then, blinking her brown eyes and narrowing them. Sukuna wonders at just what you’re telling her, as you nervously bite your lower lip, then you’re waving your arms wildly as Nobara skates over to the three of them, and you tentatively follow, color decorating your cheeks under neon lights.

“Hey, Sukuna.” Nobara says, and he leans back on the wall.

“Yeah, what is it?”

She comes closer then, leaning a little too close. “Do you like her?” She says your name then, and Sukuna glares, stuttering, Megumi and Yuuji snicker in laughter behind him when you approach.

“What kind of question is that?” He says, and Nobara glares now.

“It’s just a question, okay? You can’t keep your eyes off her.” She smirks, and you cover your face in embarrassment.

“Ignore her, please.” You mumble, wanting to fall into a hole then and there, as the loud music blares around the rink.

“Everyone says you have a crush.” Nobara continues.

“You do stare at her all the time…” Megumi says, Sukuna turns away then, crossing his arms, feeling so embarrassed he can’t think.

“You don’t have to answer, Sukuna, it’s okay…” You touch his shoulder then, and just a touch from you ruins his middle school brain, when he looks down at your cute little face. “I figured you didn’t, she just…”

“I don’t, not at all.” He says the words so sharply you yank your hand back like it was burned, eyes wide on him now.

“Okay.” You manage, and Sukuna hates how your face falls then.

“You’re such a jerk! Why do you have to say things like that!?” Yuuji says, and he scoffs.

“Always coming to her defense, aren’t you the one with the crush?”

“He’s my friend, Sukuna.” You say, as Yuuji scowls at his older brother.

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t ask you out if you were the last girl in school.” Your face falls now, and everyone gasps, as there were more kids from your class gathering around. Sukuna falters then, but you cross your arms, scowling.

“Good, because I would never say yes! You’re the last boy in the world I’d ever go out with!” You shout it practically, people are all whispering as you skate off then, fury raging through your veins, and Sukuna stands there, as everyone looks at him with confusion.

“What’s your problem!? She really likes you, you’re so stupid!” Nobara hisses, chasing after you now, and Megumi and Yuuji shake their heads, leaving Sukuna to skate off towards the lockers, hastily taking them off as his mind whirls with what he’s just done to you.

You’ve done nothing but be as nice as you can to him since he’s Yuuji’s brother, but that’s the only reason he thinks you’ve tolerated him at all. He picks on you constantly, he tugs at your hair, he’s even snipped a part of it off in elementary school, he may or may not have kept it.

He throws paper balls at you, he tugs at your shirt and makes fun of you, and even through all of it you’ve not done more than scowl, roll your eyes, tell him off. But Sukuna has it bad for you, in fact he thinks he’s in love with you, but he just becomes more of an idiot as you all are getting older. You affect him more and more as you become prettier and prettier.

He watches the way the light hits your face in class and stares dreamily before you’ll catch him, and he’ll scowl instead. He’s an idiot.

And now he knows he hurt you.

As he’s outside, about to walk home, you’re standing against the wall, covering your face, in tears, when you see him, turning away quickly. Sukuna pauses then, his heart breaking, knowing he’s embarrassed you, but he doesn’t know what to say. He walks up, earning your glare, though your eyes are puffy, and your nose is all red from rubbing it.

“I… I…” He trails off, and you shake your head.

“If your goal is to embarrass me, you succeeded. I should have never told her I liked you…”

Sukuna sputters, mouth opening and closing. “You what!?”

“I don’t anymore, don’t worry.” You rub at your eyes now, sobs catching in your throat when you look up into ruby red eyes, eyes that apparently hate you, but you see something different, something softer.

“Why would you like me?” He asks then, and you want to laugh.

“How would I know? You’re a mean jerk, always have been. Maybe I needed you to be mean like that, to really knock that idiot idea out of my head.” Sukuna feels himself breaking inside now, two hands coming to your shoulders, making you gasp as you tilt your head back to look at him.

He’s already taller than anyone, and the more he grows up the cuter he is, the worse your crush gets. The more you hang out at Yuuji’s house, the more you see him, the more you fall, shit the meaner he is the more you fall. You can’t even find it in you to stay mad at him, when he makes your heart race, when you’re drawing doodles of him and you in your notebook.

You asked Nobara not to say anything, but she was so sure that he liked you back, though you knew he didn’t, you knew he hated you. He has since he met you, and you don’t know what you did.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean it.” You scoff, shoving at him, his hands fall.

“You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Sukuna blinks back his own emotion, gulping. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why’d you say it?” You look up at him, when your eyes look at him like that he hates himself so much, knowing he’s just lying to you, to himself.

“I just… everyone was…”

“You care so much what people think, despite acting like you don’t.” Sukuna scowls at you now. “Embarrassed to like me?”

“What!? Why the fuck would it be embarrassing to like you?”

“You tell me. Not pretty enough? Not popular enough? I see who you hang out with. Just forget it, I promise I’ll never say I like you again.” You peek at your phone now, sliding it up, but Sukuna cups your face, leaning close, your eyes dart to his lips, thinking for some insane moment he’d be your first kiss.

No way though.

“You’re pretty, okay? Very pretty.” You pause then, mouth open in a gasp, and Sukuna laughs without humor. “How can you think you’re not?”

“I… um… you…”

“I didn’t mean it.” He steps closer, thumb brushing a tear away from your cheek. “I’m sorry I… made you cry.”

“You always make me cry.” You whisper, and he gulps now.

“Yeah, I do. But this time… I’m really sorry.”

You sigh then, hand touching his wrist, making his own pulse race, as he thinks wildly of kissing you, of something he’s dreamed of since he first found out what it was. “You don’t have to apologize for not liking me back.”

“I-”

“But for saying it like that? Yeah it was mean.”

“Listen…”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile sadly, backing off when you see your mom’s car pull up, and Sukuna is left dumbfounded. “Don’t worry, I swear I won’t say it again, I won’t even… think it again.”

You know you’re lying.

Sukuna says nothing as you get in your mom’s car, and she’s asking if you’re okay, he watches her hug you for a moment before she begins to drive, and he sees your eyes full of tears again, streaking down your face. Yuuji walks out front then, nudging him as he watches his brother’s eyes glimmer with what looks like tears.

“Why’d you do it?” Yuuji asks, and Sukuna sighs.

“I don’t know.” He admits, Yuuji puts a hand on his back then.

“You’re a big idiot.”

“Excuse me!?”

“You are.”

He was.

*****

Suddenly all that embarrassment floods you, you tense at the memories, hating how vivid they are, after all these years. You nervously look away, downing the rest of your nearly empty drink in one gulp. Sukuna is quiet then, and you wonder just what his angle is, is he here to embarrass you again? Is this some long term bully shit? Is that an apology tour?

“Are you in therapy and making rounds?” You ask softly, voice breaking, and then you feel his hand wrap the back of your neck, resting his head against yours, making you ache for him.

“I don’t feel bad for shit I’ve done, ever, except what I’ve done to you.” You look at him, he’s too close, far too close. He sees your emotions mirroring his own, and it breaks him. “I should have never fucking done it.”

“Sukuna, we were in middle school. It’s fine.”

“It’s not though, because it was such a blatant lie. God how did you not know how bad I was down for you?” You suck in a breath, shaking your head quickly, and hopping off the barstool.

“You’re lying! What even is this shit.” Sukuna pulls you between his thighs, brushing your hair back behind your ear as you tremble. “Sukuna…”

“I am not lying, but I was then, an idiot kid who was mean as shit to you.”

“Why were you so mean?”

“I’m trying to get there. Can you keep listening?” You shake your head, sniffling. Now, it’s just like being back there, back on that day where you were so embarrassed you could hardly face anyone.

“I can’t handle this shit… it’s things I’ve shoved so far back…”

“I know.” Sukuna’s strong thighs are under your tiny little hands, pressing against his muscles under the expensive fabric, as everything fades in the world but him, but the longing that’s eating you both up from the inside. Your breaths come quicker when he looks at you, that intense way, with his arrogant smirk finally not on his face, just once.

“Why do you wanna do this, rehash it?” You ask now, leaning even closer, until you’re right against his body, and he’s bending low.

“I need to tell you some important shit, I just need you to listen. Do I need to reward your bratty ass for some patience?” There’s that smirk.

“Maybe, I offered to hook up, not go through yearbooks.”

“Fine, so let’s get out of here, let you get some air, and we’ll continue. I’ll… take care of you, hmm?”

“Yeah, think you could?” He snorts, rolling his ruby eyes, hopping down, towering right over you, taking over your every sense.

“You ask dumb fucking questions, I think that’s the one thing you know I could do…” He leans right down, cupping your face. “Ruin you for anyone.”

“Big talk.” You’re so full of shit, your body is on fire, your heart is pounding out of your chest, the clothes feel too tight, everything swirls around you.

“You know it’s not.” Sukuna pays for the tab then, walking you out, the cool night air hits you, making you shiver, so he wraps a jacket around your shoulders, shocking you. “You think I’m that much of a dick?”

“Yes.” He laughs then, that booming laugh that makes him throw his head back, as you snuggle against his jacket, inhaling the expensive scent of musky cologne. “You have nice taste though.”

“Bet you do too. A nice taste.” He pulls you against his hard chest, feeling your soft breasts press against him, making his cock hard just from that. “Wanna know how badly I’ve wanted to?”

“T-taste me?” You whisper, all bravado and teasing gone, the breeze gently blowing your hair around as you wait for his driver.

“Fuck yes. Should I right here, brat?” He slips his hand under the lapels of the jacket, slipping over your dress and slipping it up, as people walk in and out of the busy little dive bar. You feel yourself so wet you’ve made a werspot in your panties, panties his thumb finds slowly.

“Right h-here?” You whisper nervously, when his driver pulls up in a whole fucking limo, you blink in surprise at it, as his hands fall.

“You’d let me, so desperate.” You glare again, making him grin. “I love when you scowl at me.”

“Are you feeling okay!? And a limo, pretentious.” You eagerly slide in with his help though, seeing everything one could dream of, as he leans over, pulling out a bottle of champagne, raising a brow, the slits in it just making him sexier, damn him. “You just ride in a limo?”

“Why not? I have these long legs, and I like to be comfortable.”

“Psh…” He pours you a glass of champagne then, and you eye a little white baggie curiously, along with a bag of weed. “Damn you partying everywhere?”

“On occasion, usually this shit is for clients though.” You giggle a bit, sipping the champagne. “I would never offer coke, but you smoke?”

“No, not really. I did once and it made me so stupid.”

“Fair enough.” He closes up the little open box, arm over you casually, kissing his way up your neck carefully, enjoying your sighs of pleasure. “Do you want a reward for listening to two stories?”

“Hmm, what do I get? A gold star?” He smirks, shaking his head and kissing you, the tart of the champagne swapping between your tongues, the kiss is slow, sensual, before it builds, and he’s setting down your glasses. He’s got you on his lap so quickly your head spins, and you’re grinding on his length, gasping in pleasure, your head falling back.

“Holy… f-fuck…” He huffs, all bravado gone when he feels your slick warmth through the layer of his dress pants. “You’re that hot?”

“Am I?” You can’t think, not when you feel his length pressed, making you whimper, which he chuckles at, nipping your collarbone between his teeth.

“That little whine? Fuck… pathetic.”

“I hate you.” You grumble then, shoving at him, but he holds you by your hips, pressing you against him harder. “Let me go, ass.”

“I like you pathetic, sweet, whiny. Sexy as fuck.” You are dragged back down for a kiss, your teeth clicking with the intensity, as you roll your hips more and more, and he slips those hands up, the veins popping out when he grabs you bruisingly. “Everything about you is made to drive me insane.”

“You’re saying insane shit, Sukuna. Is this a booty call, a hate fuck… or…” You pause, gasping as he thumbs your clit over your panties, pressing against the damp fabric, making you whimper again, eyes rolling back.

“Ya think that’s all I want? No, brat, the reason I didn’t do shit… is because… I know I’ll never be able to fuckin’ stop.” You’re flipped under him, back pressing against the seat, as he hovers over you. You yank his tie down, slamming his lips against yours, hungry lips that drink every moan you have when his hand slips between your thighs, yanking your thong to the side.

“Kuna…” He groans, slipping fingers up and down your slit, you’re trembling now, breaths quicker and quicker.

“Need something, brat?” Your brows lower, you have an insult on the tip of your tongue when his finger tip presses your tight entrance, and then Sukuna loses it, shoving his finger all the way in, moaning. “You’re this fuckin tight?”

“Ngh…” You can’t manage an answer, not when he’s crooking his finger just so, pressing that little spot inside you, finding it better than any boyfriend could just the first time, and your walls are gripping his thick digit, while your hand still clutches his tie.

“There it is, ha- feel her, fuck.” Sukuna is simultaneously in control and losing control as he plays you, curling his fingers in syrupy wetness, making you fall apart under him, hips bucking when his thumb presses your clit again. “Like both, that pussy so slutty f’me?”

“S-slutty…” Your brain short circuits, when he slips in two, stretching you out, your dress scrunched up over your hips, he hovers over you, watching every expression on your pretty face avidly.

“That’s it… let go, huh? Make a fucking mess.” You’re panting, you’ve never cum from just fingers like this, not when he’s building that tension, pressing two up and rubbing your clit, until you’re reaching higher and higher. “Feel it, feel her, she wants to cum, just let her, huh?”

“F-fuck!” You scream out then, kissing him deeply, desperately, as he makes your pussy convulse around him, orgasm washing through you in waves, until you’re weak and boneless under him, twitching cunt gripping his fingers, so slick you hear it.

“That’s it, there you go.” He rubs his fingers up and down your slit now, easing up, sucking your juices off his fingers, cheeks hollowing. You gulp at the sight, of the sexiest fucking thing you’ve seen, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Can’t wait to bury my face, eat you so good you pass the fuck out.”

“Wh-what? You…” You can’t function, from fingers, when he kisses you again, slower, letting you taste yourself.

“Can’t wait to make you stupid. Fuck your brains out. Be nothing but me, brat, yeah?” His husky voice, his tight grip, his brutal kisses destroy you, they’re not the kiss you shared last time, not even close, he’s letting go, he’s ending you.

“K-Kuna…” He exhales now, easing off you as he helps you up, your coat having fallen onto the seats, leaving him to caress your bare arms gently.

“Feel better, brat? So needy.” You smack at him, only making him laugh just a bit. “Wanna know what I should’ve told you then?”

“Shit… forgot all of that.” You blink rapidly, disoriented.

“Cock drunk off fingers? So easy.”

“You know, drop me off-”

“Hush, brat.” He yanks you up, sitting you right on his lap, but this time sideways, sipping his drink and then holding the glass to your lips, you sip greedily, sighing and finding your arms wrapping around his neck, as he pulls you even closer against him, burying his face against your neck.

“What did you need to tell me then, Kuna?” You whisper, getting weaker by the moment, the orgasm destroying you, and making you wonder…

What would his dick be like?

His mouth?

If his fingers casually do that?

“I should have told you…” He exhales, pulling you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent greedily. “That I did have that crush, fuck way more than that, you were all I could think of. You still are.”

You still now, pulling back a bit, as your eyes lock in the led lit limo, your breaths mingling as they come quicker and quicker. “Y-you liked me?”

He shakes his head. “That wasn’t even the word. There’s a stronger word… one that terrified me then. I was a little ass, a shithead.”

“Yeah you were.”

He glares, pinching your hip then, making you yelp. “Can’t wait to occupy that bratty fucking mouth.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna shut me up?” You whisper, earning his cock leaking precum now, god only you could have this effect on him.

“I’ll shut you up, have your voice hoarse, shove my cock so deep.” You whimper, shifting, and he kisses you again, brutal and rough, teeth almost making your lower lip bleed, his grip on your hips pressing so deep you can’t breathe. “Hoarse from screaming, from my cock stretching your throat, so fucked out you won’t be able to sit or walk.”

“This is a lot of talk, Kuna. How many more fucking stories before you back it up, hmm?” You demand, voice breathy, he smiles then.

“Three.”

“Oh come on!”

“Shut it, brat. You ain’t gonna die, ain’t had my dick this long.”

“Well hurry your mean bully stories up.” You earn a gentle smack on your cheek, only making you whine out, as you smack him back, making him die for you, kissing you again before he remembers.

He needs to tell you it all.

“Make 'em quick, dammit.”

“Slutty brat.” He earns another smack, grinning, white teeth glinting. “Fine, fine… how about that time we kissed in high school?”

You heat up then. “Oh…”

*****

The third time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, junior/sophomore year of HS- (Kuna age 17, Y/N age 16)

By this time, Sukuna already had a reputation, he was the bad boy, always in and out of trouble. He rode a ridiculous motorcycle around, and he always had the new flavor of his month on the back of it. You barely even knew a girl who hadn’t made out with Sukuna… or probably more, but you were not one to care.

Sukuna and you went from enemies to nothing. He quit picking on you, and in some fucked, weird way you missed it, any of his attention. Walking through the halls and seeing him with his arm around a new girl all the time filled you with some odd sensation you didn’t wanna think of.

It’s a party over at Gojo’s house tonight, his parties were kind of ridiculous because of just how rich he was, and he damn near lived all alone. There was an insane amount of people there, as you navigated the party with a red solo cup in your hands, so nervously, Yuuji came bouncing over to you waving with his happy little grin on his face.

“Hey!” He shouts your name, Megumi follows in tow, smiling just a bit, a mere quirk of the corner of his lips.

“Hey Yuuji, Megumi. Where’s Nobara?”

“She’s over there, about to play… suck and blow.” Yuuji snickers now, you giggle at him and roll your eyes, looking over as people are sucking on a debit card, passing it in a circle, you see Gojo there, kissing a girl then, making you blush a bit as they really go at it.

“Oh… that game sounds…”

“Germ ridden.” Megumi declares with a shiver, you snort in laughter then.

“Yes, germ ridden.” You agree, then your heart stops as Sukuna is right in the mix, he’s towering over everyone but Gojo, as he passes the card to and from the girls on either side of him. For some reason, every time you see him you get this feeling, it’s not butterflies, it’s vicious moths, aggressive and beating you. 

Yes, moths you think. Sukuna didn’t give butterflies.

He smirks at you like he just knows something all the time, and nothing could be more irritating. Seeing you now, Gojo shouts your name, waving you three over to the game, the table in front of them was littered with shot glasses and fallen empty cups. “Hey sweets!”

“Satoru, hey!” He gives you a big hug.

“Mwah!” You giggle as he kisses your forehead, Satoru Gojo is a touchy feely friend to damn near everyone, including Sukuna. “Thanks for coming, I know it’s not your scene.”

“I totally snuck out for this, it better be good.” You tease, and Satoru wiggles his brows, brushing back silky white hair, as Sukuna scowls at the gesture. He hated just how touchy he was with the girl Sukuna so secretly pined for.

But you certainly didn’t know he did, in fact Sukuna kept it such a good secret you thought he straight up hated you. Although the picking on you eased up some as you all got older, you’re just getting prettier, sweeter, smarter. You don’t hang out as much with Yuuji, and Sukuna misses you there. He has one class with you and he thinks he’s maybe said a handful of things to you this year.

“You can stand right… here.” Satoru moves another girl over between Yuuji and Megumi, and puts you smack dab between him and Sukuna, making you tense up as you look at him.

“Hah, why her?” Sukuna says then, your fists clench at your sides, Satoru lets out a little laugh.

“Prefer me next to you, baby boy?” He blows a kiss at Sukuna, and he grimaces, earning the laughter of everyone around, except you, feeling just how much Sukuna still can’t stand your presence, for whatever reason.

“God no, okay fine.”

“Yes, I know it's so terrible, huh?” You mumble, Satoru hands you the card then with a smirk.

“No way, you’re the best partner. Get started missy.” You suck on it then, pressing it between your lips and Satoru’s, as each of you passed the card. Along the way it falls across from you, and two people have to make out, everyone else has a drink. You cough just a bit at the burn of this god awful punch you’re sipping then, and Sukuna gives you that sardonic ass look.

“Can’t handle a drink, brat?”

“No, I never have…” He blinks a bit then.

“Oh, shit… why-”

“Pay attention, Sukuna.” Gojo calls, and he turns then, sucking on the card, then bending low, one hand brushing your shoulder as he blows the card on your lips, then you turn and go to blow the card onto Gojo’s as the card clatters to the table.

‘Ooooh’ everyone’s whispering and giggling as Satoru bends low, tilting your chin up to look up into his pretty blue eyes, Sukuna’s fury grows with every second, as he’s never seen you with anyone, thank god.

He could almost pretend you were his, that he didn’t get in his own way, that he doesn’t long after you for every moment of every day until this very moment. When Satoru leans down and kisses you, he feels it like a punch to the gut, something nauseating, seeing his hands on you.

His lips on yours.

Sukuna is downing a shot and having to look away when Satoru’s hand entangles in your hair at the nape of your neck. He’s never wanted so badly till take someone the fuck out, and for what? You’re not his, you probably never would be, it’s not like he has any reason to be this upset. But…

You’re gasping as Satoru kisses you deeply, slipping his tongue in between your lips, and your tummy flutters as he does. Satoru’s breath is sweet, and little does he know yet, he’s your first kiss, then and there in front of countless people. He pulls back with a little smile, his snowy lashes lower over his eyes, as you try to gather yourself, he leans in against your ear.

“You’re a good kisser, sweets.” You smile a bit, laughing breathlessly.

“My first.”

“No way!?” He pulls back and blinks a bit, eyes looking at the huge, furious pink haired man behind you. Satoru smirks mischievously, it’s no secret to him or any of Sukuna’s friends how bad he has it. “I’ll keep it secret.”

Satoru crosses his chest with his fingers in the sign of a cross, and you exhale in relief. “Thank you. Shots?”

“Shots!” You both down shots with everyone, and then Satoru picks up the game again, as you turn just a bit to see Sukuna glaring down at you.

“Something wrong?” You ask curiously, and he laughs then, a mocking sound, shaking his head.

“Why would shit be wrong?”

“Right, you didn’t have to kiss me.” You say with a pat on his arm, and he gulps down more of his drink, before his hand crushes the solo cup.

“Tch.” He says nothing as the card hits him again, and you almost assume it will fall, that he’ll kiss someone, but it doesn’t, not until it hits you, then the card clatters to the fucking ground, leaving you looking up at him wide eyed.

“Oooh, those two!?” Someone says, and everyone stares at you both, it’s obvious Sukuna’s a bully to you, and that you can’t stand him.

“Two kisses in one game already?” Satoru teases, you bite your lip then, looking at Sukuna’s mouth, set in a line.

“You don’t have to.” You say softly, and Sukuna snatches you up against him then, shocking you, your eyes fly to his.

“Think I’m scared, brat?” He whispers.

“I think you don’t want to.” You whisper back, and you expect it, some retort of his, but he slams his lips down on yours, taking over every sense you’ve ever had, tasting your lips and tongue as he devours you then. It’s not sweet and sensual like Satoru, it’s full of everything he’s ever felt, pouring in your lips.

Your hand slides up his arm, across a bicep, thumb brushing it when his two hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer. He kisses you hard and brutal, his hands tightening to a bruising touch as he practically growls into your mouth, his tongue moving against yours. You don’t even know what you’re doing, but it feels all consuming.

It’s wild and fiery, and you can feel his heart slamming in his chest, his breathing heavy as yours come in shallow pants, and it’s like everything stops around you. You can’t remember everyone is watching you, can’t be embarrassed when a hand slips up your spine, and he tilts his head to get better access to your mouth. You can’t hear any of the whispers, not with your heart pounding in your ears.

You don’t know why you’re kissing him back with such fervor, why your arms are wrapped around his neck, the boy you hate, right? The boy who’s made school awful at times, who loves to fuck with you almost every day, you think maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the thrill of it all, but as your kiss ends you know you’re wrong. Kisses don’t feel like this, do they?

He pulls back, damn near ready to tear into you here and there in front of everyone, something feral happening to him, Sukuna has already been with a couple of girls, but he never felt anything more intense than kissing you, then seeing your reddened plump lips, swollen from him. It drives his high school brain absolutely erratic, when he cups your face, looking how small you are compared to him.

He pictures lifting you and-

“Okay, okay… calm down or get a room.” Satoru teases, as Yuuji and Megumi have their jaws on the damn floor. 

Everything is spinning now, not from the alcohol but from that kiss, from the intensity of his emotions crashing into yours. You pull away, panting, and his eyes are so dark then, his pupils dilated with something you’ve never seen before. Is it… desire? Is it… curiosity? It feels like something more… something…

You blush furiously, clearing your throat when you realize you’re just standing there with your mouth open, in front of an entire party. Sukuna doesn’t stop staring at you, in fact he can’t rip his eyes off you, nor does he take his hands off you, as you tremble now, goosebumps where his touch still sits on your skin.

“I need some air… too many kisses.” You manage, before running out then, struggling to get a breath, the tiny amount of alcohol is coursing through your veins, mixing with the heat from Sukuna’s kisses.

You’re inhaling the night air greedily, looking up at the starry sky, shaking your head as you cover your overheated face. You’d kissed Satoru and Sukuna, and Satoru had been so fun, so sweet and exciting. But what the actual heck was that with Sukuna!? What was this feeling you can’t shake, you can’t cope with!?

Sukuna dies to go after you, to finish everything he started, to kiss your face, your neck, perhaps more if you were ready. He would be happy just kissing you though, nothing else, if you offered just that, because he’s never felt it. Satoru, Suguru and his other friends are all snickering at him now.

“Go after her, Romeo.” Suguru says, and Sukuna glares at him.

“What? Why?”

“C’mon man, we all saw. Looked like you’d eat her.” Satoru says.

“In more ways than one?” Suguru chimes in, earning Sukuna’s angry glare, he shakes his head then. “Oh stop this… she’s hot, why not go for it?”

“She’s the bane of my existence. A kiss doesn’t change that.”

“She’s available then?” Satoru asks teasingly, as you’re walking back up, getting a drink poured by Nobara.

“Of course she is… it was just a kiss in a game.” You hear him then, and Nobara instantly has her hand comfortingly on your back.

“Don’t pay attention, he clearly was into you.” She murmurs, Satoru eyes you both then, before looking back at Sukuna.

“So if I ask her out you’re cool with it buddy?” He teases with a big grin.

“If you what!?”

“Mmm, ask her out. If you don’t even like her that way?” Sukuna sputters now, and everyone’s whispering about him, about the kiss.

“Why ask me?” He huffs with disdain, and you quietly join back in, this time on the other side of Satoru, Sukuna notices it furiously, making a show of kissing the next girl as the card drops again.

You hate how you feel about it, about him.

As you’re dancing later with Satoru, you watch him sitting on the couch with two girls on his lap, but his eyes are laser focused on you, every motion you make with your hips in a figure eight motion. You feel his eyes like a brand on your skin, like he’s undressing you with them, but he doesn’t come near you, you’re both just across the room, with the energy between you.

The amount of times Sukuna replays this in his mind over and over, the kiss that destroyed him. But instead of telling you how he feels, he says nothing, watching as you move on, and as he pretends he is as well, but is he really? Will he ever be?

*****

You’re remembering the kiss vividly, Sukuna watches your eyes go fuzzy, as you both pull up to his place. You just sit there, nervously shiting in his lap. “Those were… my first kisses. Isn’t that insane?”

“What was insane was that I wanted to kill him for kissing you, I wanted to kill anyone who touched you, kissed you.”

“You did?” You ask softly, he nods then, smirking just a bit.

“Best kiss I had.”

“What!?”

“I should have told you. Not acted like…

“A dick?”

“That mouth, brat.” He is glaring as you giggle. “I acted like I didn’t care, but I did… and your bratty ass dated Satoru after that!?”

“Well, he was sweet and asked me out. What’d you expect me to wait for you to figure it out?”

“Yes.” You both laugh softly then, his strokes up and down your spine making you long for more and more of him, every bit of his body, his touch, his heart.

“Three stories down, why don’t I…” You trail your fingers down his dress shirt, over his rippling abdomen. “Return that favor?”

“Killing me, brat.” He exhales, and soon you’re kissing in his elevator, as you ride up to his fancy penthouse, your breath catching at it. “Ya like?”

“Damn, you’re like rich!?”

Sukuna throws his head back, sliding his jacket off you then, eyeing your skin hungrily, thinking of all the ways he wants to kiss it, bite it, taste it. “Yeah, I’m fucking rich.”

“So humble too.”

“Why should I be? Fuck that.” He then hands you a glass of water, making your eyes narrow.

“Rich as fuck and I get water!?”

“It’s Evian.”

“Psh, where’s the liquor stash?”

He brushes your hair back then, gently. “Want you fully aware for the last two stories, yeah? Then you can have another if you want.”

“Yes, dad.” You tease, then his nostrils flare, making your lips turn up as you watch his reaction. “You like to be called Daddy don’t ya, freaky Kuna?”

Sukuna’s scowl just deepens, as he crosses his arms. “Oh shut that mouth, swear to god.”

“Shut me up- mnh!” Sukuna’s grabbed you right under your chin, squeezing your throat just so, as his free hand grips your ass.

“You listen to this one, I’ll let you suck me. And the last one, I’ll finally lick that pretty pussy.” You whine when he finds your slick heat over your panties, everything going just a little fuzzy. “Fuck you in positions you’ve never heard of.”

“All talk.” He lets you go, shaking his head, kissing you deeply again, you are falling into it, into how good he feels, letting it all surround you.

“Ya know I’m not, admit it.”

“Shush.” You take your water with a shaky hand, drinking it then.

“Good girl.”

Good girl!?

You can’t handle that from him, can’t handle the heat pouring between your thighs, in your tummy, making you ache for him more and more. “This story was about a time you didn’t have water, and you were all over me.”

You draw a blank then, shaking your head. “Psh, what!?”

“Mmhmm. Come, sit down.” He guides you over to an elegant living room, with a spacious black couch, everything sleek and modern, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the night sky.

“Beautiful.” You murmur softly, touching the clear glass for just a moment, he comes up behind you, kissing across your neck.

“I’ll fuck you on this window, let everyone have a show.”

“What!?”

“Let ‘em know you’re mine this time.”

“Sukuna!” You are dragged to the couch, sat down right next to him, his arm around you.

“Sip more water. So thirsty.”

“I really hate you.”

“You say that…”

“Yeah.” He tilts your chin up with two fingers, pressing his lips over yours over and over, little sweet kisses you don’t expect. “Mmm, so… remember your first frat party?”

“Barely! Oh shit I think I got drunk.”

“Oh yeah you did.

*****

The fourth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your senior year HS, his Freshman year college (Kuna age 19, Y/N age 18)

“Y’know… S-Sukuna… fuck you’re kinda hot!?” You’re stumbling as you speak to Sukuna that night, dressed in some mini skirt and crop top, showing everything. You make him furious, showing that body that seems to get prettier every year, the top showcasing far too much of your pretty breasts, the skirt showing too much of your sexy thighs.

Thighs he’d die to have wrapped around his head.

“What now, brat?” He demands, and you giggle, clearly shitfaced, you never partied so you’re an insane lightweight. And your friend is currently making out in a corner, leaving you stumbling over to him in heels that make no sense for you, for the girl he’s known so long. “What’s with the skank fit?”

“Fuck you I’m hot.” You giggle, doing a spin, and then nearly falling, Sukuna catches you with an arm around your waist, warm body pressed against his.

“That alcohol spiking that confidence?”

“Jus’ because you don’t think- m’hot doesn’t mean… m’not k?” You toss down your drink, giggling breathlessly, looking up at him with dilated eyes.

“When have I said you’re not?” He asks softly, guiding you away from the crowd, from the eyes of too many hungry frat boys. You somehow end up on his lap, arms around his neck, giggling and scrunching that cute ass nose of yours.

“You’ve said m’pretty like once. In middle school? Thass it, Kuna.”

“God, don’t call me that, drunky.” He brushes your hair back then, and you pause, inhaling just a bit, sudden clarity in a brief drunk haze. “You’re the prettiest brat there is, yeah? You’re gonna forget this. So fuck it.”

“The prettiest brat?” You repeat, and he smiles, nodding, before hissing when you shift, straddling him.

“The fuck are you doing!?” He demands, hands pressing on your waist, while you lean your face low, breath against his lips.

“Jus- wanna kiss. Or more… always wanted you to be-”

“Shh, stop.” He puts a hand on your mouth, shaking his head. “You’re shitfaced, don’t go saying dumb shit.”

You lick at his palm, giggling again, moving your hips, he feels your heat against his cock over his jeans, making him throb then. He was no virgin, far from it, but you make him blush. You make him tremble, and he hates this effect, that you so casually have, and don’t even know you possess.

Since he met you, you’ve done things to him, things that have him jerking it to images of you, memories of you. Practicing all the ways he’d take that virginity of yours back in the day, knowing he was a fucking idiot. Thinking of how he’s stretch that surely tight little hole, how he’s make you his.

But you dated boys, he dated girls.

You lived your life in your lane, he lived his.

You both rarely crossed, aside from your friendship with his brother and mutual friends, he doesn’t think he’d see you. He barely does now, and the way you’re looking at him addles his mind, short circuits his brain chemistry. God the things he wants to do with you…

But…

“You’re trashed.”

“I’m pretty to you.” You murmur, lips far too close, he can practically taste jello shots on you.

“You are.” He figures fuck it, what’s it matter?

You won’t remember.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, finally, after so many years, and you blink rapidly, sobering up almost it seemed, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks as they lower, as you take a breath.

“You think so?” You whisper.

“I know so, fuck who doesn’t?” He holds you still when you wiggle. “Don’t fucking do that, please.”

“Don’t wanna fuck me, Kuna? Don’t you fuck whoever?”

“Fuck you…” He trails off. Fucking you isn’t what he’d do, and he damn well knows it too well.

He’d lose himself in you.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, hmm?” He asks, husky voice breaking.

“What do you think?” You grind on him, his head falls back, moaning as you kiss up his throat, making his hands grip you bruising. “Haven’t I wanted to for s’long, Kuna… wanted y’inside me…”

“Shut the fuck up.” He shoves at you again, ruby eyes narrowing as he looks at your flushed cheeks and glittery eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“So you need to get home. Nobara.” She looks up at the shout of her name, eyes wide when she sees you, gently pulling you now.

“Come on baby.”

“No, he wants me, look at him.” You giggle again, and Nobara can’t stop the smirk on her face.

“He does, but… you’re too tired, yeah?” You look at her, then Sukuna, yawning then and nodding as she eases you up.

“Am I?”

“You are. Say goodnight, remember you can’t stand Sukuna, yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You blink again, stumbling against your friend, Sukuna’s hand cups your face gently.

“Good night, drunk brat.” He kisses your head, shocking you even in your drunk state, before looking at Nobara. “Got a ride?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Sukuna…” She whispers then.

“Hmm?”

“Just let her go if you don’t want to be with her. She deserves more than this… pining away for you.” Sukuna gulps at Nobara’s words.

“I…”

“She’s amazing, you know.”

“Yeah, I fucking know. Trust me.” She sighs, as you snuggle to her, blissfully unaware of the conversation, just mumbling how good Nobara smells.

“She wants to go to another university, but she’ll go here to see you. Let. Her. Go.” Sukuna watches you stumble away, feeling it like a knife to his chest.

God it was difficult to let you go, but were you wasting your chances for someone like him?

*****

“I literally don’t remember it…” You murmur softly then, while Sukuna’s fingers run lazily over your shoulders, sipping more water. “I think I remember sitting on your lap but it’s a blur?”

“Yeah, it was… hard…”

You’re laughing then. “Sorry!”

“Hard in many ways, sure. To turn this down?” You heat up under his praise now, so open for you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Look at you.” You’re kissing him then, again, you could just keep kissing Sukuna, forever and ever you feel like. Like nothing could rip you from him, when you’re straddling his lap like that night, and he’s exhaling against your lips.

“What was the thing you should’ve said?” You whisper, rolling your hips, grinding your pussy on his shaft, he groans, kissing down the plump curve of your breast, sinking his teeth and making your head fall back.

“I did say it…” He grins, looking at the little teeth marks in your skin.

“Wh-what was it?”

“That you’re beautiful, and fuck you are.” You whimper when he yanks down your top, revealing your puffy nipples, taut and perky with want. “Oh my… fuck…”

He’s sucking one into his hot mouth now, your hands entangled in pastel locks, hips rocking for more and more, he’s dying to sink into you, and you’re dying for him to fill you. “Thank you, Kuna… and… did I say anything that…”

“You kept saying how hot I am.”

“You are, fuck you are. Sexiest man I’ve seen.”

“Damn, simp much?”

“Hate you!” You shove at him and he’s chuckling, kissing back down your breasts, sighing.

“You don’t hate me, shut it. Should we put that mouth to better fucking use?” He asks, and you nod eagerly. “You’re gonna obey that easily? Want it so bad?”

“Oh fuck you and your stories.” You slip down, one knee on one side of him, as you unzip him slowly, he hisses when his cock juts out of the jeans, of his boxers, so heavy and thick. You pause briefly, blushing when you see it, a tattoo around the base of his fucking cock, and a piercing on the tip.

“Cat got your tongue, slut?”

“Slut? You have a slutty tattoo on your slutty dick. And this? This…” You moan then, kneeling between his thighs spread, looking up at him so pretty then his heart flips in his chest, he’s as nervous if not more than he was when he was a virgin. Looking how beautiful you are, face resting on his thigh.

“Then put this slutty cock in your slutty mouth, huh?” You eagerly do as he says, taking him into your mouth slowly, teasing the piercing with your tongue, tasting his precum, salty and bitter, coating your tastebuds. “Mmgh, yeah, like that, pretty little whore.”

His words really should infuriate you, but you love it, jerking his hips up as you suck harder, faster, feeling his hands tighten in your hair, and god he’s losing his fucking mind, and it’s all because of you.

You love it, love the way he’s looking at you with lidded ruby eyes, as he fucks up into your mouth, alternating between gently cupping your cheek and shoving your throat down on his cock, all while looking at you. His eyes never leave your face, you hear his breaths, feel him tense. It’s intoxicating, feeling his cock swell and pulse in your mouth, feeling his eyes on you, watching you take him deep.

“So pretty, look at you, taking cock s’good. S’hungry for it, huh?” He’s mumbling now, trying to be so sure, so dominating of you, and he does, but he’s vulnerable, as your little fingers press against his thighs, as you’re sucking him so deeply. You breathe through your nose, feeling him get harder, impossibly harder, as you take him more and more.

Your cunt is pulsing around nothing, thinking of everything you’ve wanted, listening to him mumbling praise, watching that red streak from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. To make Sukuna blush was something so heady you couldn’t explain it, not as you keep sucking, as you slip his dress shirt up just a bit, revealing the hard, perfect planes of his abdomen.

“Fuck, you’re good at that, hmm?” He whispers, his eyes half lidded, his voice gruff and rough, so fucking sexy, and you moan around his cock, nodding. He’s so fucking big and it’s a struggle to take him all in, but you’re keep trying to, go even deeper, watching his breath hitch, his hips buck upwards. He keeps whispering your name until he yanks you off.

“Lemme suck you off, Kuna.” You plead, and he laughs insanely now, shaking his head as he looks down at you.

“Ya gotta be that good at this!? I’m mad you ever sucked anyone.” He grumbles, glaring now, you pout as he pulls you off, hands firm on your ass when he sits you back on him, and now he’s adjusting himself back in.

“Really!? Not another story, Kuna… I need to tell you my own shit.” You murmur, he puts a finger to your lips, shaking his head.

“I’m almost done, last story yeah? Then…” He rubs your cunt over your panties, so damp they’re sticking to your plump lips pathetically. “Then I’ll make her feel so fucking good, so good I promise.”

“You suck.” You say with a pout, earning another smirk as you try to catch your breath, leaning back against him. “Okay, one more, and only one.”

“You’re such a little-”

“Kuna…”

“A little… pretty ass bitchy ass-”

“Sukuna, I swear to god I’ll hit you.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow.

“You’re a little bitch.”

“Swear to-”

“I should go.”

“You aren’t going any fucking where. C’mere.” He yanks you back down, as you huff in anger. “I’ll give her what she needs, have some patience. All fuckin night and day, just wait a little longer, huh?”

“F-fine.” You look down demurely, as Sukuna sighs, shutting his eyes.

“The last time we saw each other. Remember?”

“Shit…”

*****

The fifth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your Sophomore year of college, his Junior (Kuna 21, Y/N 20)

You weren’t even in the same college as Sukuna, but you still saw him, from time to time. You were close with Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara, and that meant sometimes seeing Sukuna, a girl on either side of him as he’s throwing pong balls into cups, and everyone is cheering for him.

Jock Sukuna.

Frat leader Sukuna.

Asshole hoe ass Sukuna.

You resent him, you hate it but you do, he’s popular and still somehow a huge asshole, he hasn’t changed a damn bit and people fawned over him, girls were all lining up for their turn, all except you. You’re glad you went to a different university, even if you missed your friends, it means you got to miss him being such a whore blatantly in front of the world.

He kissed one, then the other, like they’re both his girlfriends, chuckling until he catches sight of you.

You.

You make his heart race, wanting to thump right out of his fucking chest, tightening it so bad he can’t breathe for a moment. You’re in this gorgeous little dress, too fancy and pretty for some stupid ass frat party. He watches the eyes of everyone on you avidly as you smile, starting to get surrounded by his curious frat brothers, making his murder instincts kick into high gear.

When would everyone figure out you’re his? Shit, when would either of you figure it out, that this is what it was?

That he was in love with you.

That he’s been in love with you, since the first day you ran into the hall, over ten years back, when you’d had hurt in your eyes and your lower lip trembled. Loved you every minute of every day, and every day he falls deeper and deeper into being an idiot, drowning you away with cheap beer and endless annoying girls. Girls he couldn’t care less about, but they were safe bets.

They weren’t you.

Your eyes catch his across the room, sipping on your drink then, smiling up as your friends come to talk to you. Sukuna has maybe seen you three times this entire year, and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t miss, god he misses picking on you, he misses that scowl you give him, the way you cross your arms.

He leaves the girls next to him, much to their dismay, walking up to you now, and your lips part as your drink sits just a bit down by your side, looking up at him with eyes that haunt his every fucking dream. Your body looks so good he can’t help but picture it naked in every position under him, while he says your name softly.

“Hey, Sukuna.” You manage to sound casual, while he’s shirtless, his already chiseled body buffer than you remember, tattoos already on his abdomen and wrists, ones that weren’t there before, that just make him sexier.

Fuck Sukuna.

Fuck him for being all you think about even now, when you have college, a part time job, a whole life. And you lay there, and think of him, picture him in ways that make you touch yourself, not knowing he’s jerking it in his dorm room to you, sometimes simultaneously, but of course neither of you has figured any of it out.

Clueless.

“You should… play?” He suggests, your brows draw together in confusion.

“Why are you being friendly?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You sigh then, shaking your head and walking away, making his jaw clench. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” You stomp away, and Sukuna chases you, into a room now, shutting the door behind you, you peek around and realize you’re somehow in his room when you see the familiar things you’ve seen his whole life. His game system, his guitar… his collection of panties? “Jesus.”

“Yeah it’s a thing we do.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, and you shake your head, turning to look up at him.

“Does it make you feel cool? Fucking the cheerleading squad?”

“Maybe it does. What do you care!?”

“I don’t.”

“Good.” He says.

“Good.” You agree, then you’re on each other, kissing each other hungrily, his hands gripping your ass, as you drink his moans.

“Why do you gotta act like this?”

“Like what, not easy?” You whisper, pulling back, and he groans, down on his knees suddenly, making you gasp, as he’s just a breath away from your hot, eager little pussy, lifting your skirt and moaning when he sees the damp spot. “What… are…”

“Lemme finally shut you the fuck up, brat.” He whispers, yanking them to the side just as the door tumbles open, you jerk back so fast as giggling girls pour in. “Don’t… get off me, fuck.” He’s shouting your name, chasing you, but you can’t get out of there fast enough.

What were you about to do!?

“Come back, fuck!” He’s yanking you by your wrist, and you scowl up at him. “Just let me… we’ll get a room, or…”

“No, thank god they came in. I’m an idiot, I have been. Down to be a notch in your stupid bedpost.”

“You’d never be-”

“Good bye Sukuna.” You leave him with watery eyes and a trembling lip, and he hates you more.

*****

You both sit there, staring at each other then, quietly, so much left unsaid over so many years, so much between you both. Your breaths make both of your chests rise and fall, while you wait with bated breath, feeling every bit of his energy consuming you, still tasting him on your lips, his pants still unzipped, your dress still tugging down your breasts just so.

“I was harsh.”

“Nah, you were real with me.”

“What did you want to say, then?” You ask quietly, and Sukuna curses, standing then, walking you back more and more until your shoulder blades hit the cool glass of his window, and you gasp, looking up at him. His gaze is hungry, it’s intense, looking right through you, seeing you. All of you.

“What I should have said, so many times… is that… I fucking love you, okay? In love with you. Stupid in love. Down bad like a little bitch.”

“What!?”

“You really couldn’t fucking tell!?”

You try to process his words, shaking your head now, tears welling up as the emotions hit you. “Like… in love?”

“Didn’t I say it, brat? Ya want some one knee shit, it’ll be eating your pussy, like I should have that night.” He murmurs, and soon he’s kissing you, hungry, desperate, hands touching every inch of you he can. “Love you, brat. Always have.”

“Sukuna…”

“Shh.” He turns you then, unzipping your dress, big hands darting across your back, your waist, your hips, turning you then to face him, leaving you in nothing but soaked panties and a lacy bra. “Should’ve told you, I love you. You’re beautiful, so beautiful you fucking wreck me.”

“Kuna…” He’s moaning again, red eyes bright as he rips your bra off, revealing your pretty breasts to his hungry gaze, cupping them, resting his forehead on yours.

“I was a fucking ass to you, a dick. A bully. A shit.”

“Kuna…”

“Shut up. You don’t have to feel the same, it can just be a fuck if you want, I’ll give you anything.” You’re whimpering, when he’s kneeling, just like that night, his breath hot against your inner thigh, when he runs calloused fingers down your soft skin, eliciting a cry. “I’ll let you fuck my face and thank you, make me so pathetic.”

“Sukuna!” You shout finally, yanking at his hair, pulling his head back to look at you, and he exhales now.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too, you idiot.” He pauses, heart slamming in his chest, and you just nod weakly, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I’ve always loved you, mean ass.”

“Fuck…” He rips your panties off.

“They’re expensive!”

“I’ll buy you all the ones you want, slutty fucking brat. Put this pretty pussy on my goddamn face, now.” He orders, lifting a thigh, swiping a stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, making you scream out, head falling back against the window he’s so shamelessly eating you out against. “Taste so goddamn good, fuck you.”

“F-fuck you, Kuna… just… will you… ah!” He smacks your pussy then, glaring up at you, as you manage a little pathetic scowl.

“Shut it brat, now. Lemme take my time, shit.” He’s back down there, parting your plump lips, dying at just how pretty your pussy is, how the wetness is just oozing. He sips up the syrupy wetness with the tip of his tongue, moaning at your taste, before slipping up to your clit, slowly circling.

“Mnph!” You’re barely able to make a noise, when Sukuna buries his face against you, nose bumping your little twitchy clit, tongue slipping up into your hole, as his hands squish your thighs, pinning you in place. “Ah!”

You feel that grin against you as he sips you up, drinking you, youre eyes are rolling, back, fucking toes curling as he nips your clit then with his sharp teeth, eliciting a slutty moan from your throat. “That’s it, cum all over m’face, slutty lil fuckin brat.”

You can’t even retort, you can’t function when his tongue is flicking the underside of your clit, and he’s watching you with those bright red eyes under those pastel lashes, working you so well you can barely stand. You’re gasping, gripping his hair so hard you’re pulling it, only making his cock harder for you, your eyes shut when you earn another wet smack on your cunt.

“Ah-ah,look at me when I’m eating you out, brat. I wanna see you fall apart f’me, just me, only me.” Sukuna’s possessive words and another smack earn you looking down at him, eyes locking with his. “Ha, that’s it.”

His tongue is flicking and pressing against your clit, when he curls two fingers up inside your gummy walls, cum drooling down his black painted nails, all the way to his rolex watch, cold against your heated skin as he pumps and pumps. “M’gonna… oh my g-god…”

“That’s it, cum like a pretty lil’ fuckin whore, hmm? Just f’me.” He orders, filthy words spitting from his mouth when he curls his fingers just so inside your soppy little cunt, and you shatter then as he works you like he’s always known you, sucking your little clit in his hot mouth.

“Kuna!” You scream out his name as you come, thighs trembling around his neck, eyes rolling back in your skull, panting when he fucks you with his fingers even faster, pushing you from one orgasm into another. “Too much!”

He doesn’t relent, he’s fingering and devouring you simultaneously until you’re a weak, pathetic mess, sweat making your hair stick to your brow, you’re trembling and shaking as it makes you see stars. You’re not even holding yourself up anymore, he’s got an arm around your hips, moaning against you.

“Sukuna, I l-love you.” You mumble weakly, and he chuckles, tickling your oversensive cunt.

“I know you do, baby.” He whispers back, kissing your inner thigh, licking your pussy clean of all your cum before he stands, and you’re taking off his dress shirt with shaky fingers, so shaky he smacks at them. “Can’t even function huh?”

“F-fuck off…” You can’t function, though, you can’t form a coherent thought in an already fucked out brain as he rips off that damn shirt, showing a buff, perfect body, littered in new tattoos you haven’t even seen. He’s quick to get naked, and pick you right up in his arms like you’re nothing. “H-here!?”

“Everyone already got a show.” He smirks, tip nudging your soppy entrance, you’re shivering as you cling to his shoulders, whining desperately. “Wanna give em a better show? Want everyone to see you dripping my cum?”

“Yes.” At your husky admission he grins.

“Slutty little brat. Oh my… fuck…” He can’t take it, when he starts to press inside you, and you’re screaming out at the stretch, as he feels your slick cunt grip him like a vise. “You’re s-so f-fucking…”

“Fuck me, please, please.” You beg, tears in your eyes now, and Sukuna won’t deny you shit, not when you’re begging so pretty, no he fucks into you, hard, thrusting his cock so deep his tip kisses your cervix. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.” He moans right with you, exhaling as he looks into your glassy, dilated eyes, so dilated all he sees are the outer rings of your irises when he sinks so deep in your eager pussy. “Ya feel like this, the whole time could’ve been putting babies in this?”

“Kuna!? The f- y-yes! Yes!” You’re screaming as he pounds his cock, so thick it’s stretching you out so hard it hurts, it burns, wearing you down with each pump, the sounds of your slutty cunt echoing in his immaculate fucking penthouse. You’re cumming before he can play with your clit, something that’s never happened, he hits so hard you don’t even need it.

When you cum, pulsing all around him he tenses, pulling then, setting you on the floor and turning you, pressing your tits against the glass as he bends down, lifting your ass up and fucking into you, your hands leaving prints on spotless glass. He’s moaning as his muscles flex, as he pumps his thick, long cock so deep, and you’re throwing your head back, screaming.

“That’s it, again baby, lemme feel your slutty fucking cunt grip me.” He huffs, leaning over the glass and fucking into you, two hands gripping your hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples of your back, as he rails you harder and harder. You’re gasping, twitching, unable to even stand, practically falling on the glass overlooking the night sky.

When Sukuna’s gotten another orgasm, he pulls out again, carrying you like you’re nothing until you’re in his bed, and he’s climbing on top of you, so intimate in this moment, cock drooling with your drippy wetness. He’s entwining a hand with yours, the other grabbing his cock, putting it back inside, your already sore little hole, and you gasp, clinging to him.

“S’good… s’good I…” You can’t form a word, when he’s pressing your thighs up higher and higher, watching the bulge in your tummy at his huge cock wrecking you, making him harder, his precum pouring, cock twitching.

“That’s it, cunt screamin’ just f’me, fuckin’ hear it huh?” Sukuna whispers, eyes and face practically feral, fucking you harder, deeper, as he presses your thighs until you’re folded in half under him. “Answer me, huh? Too fucked out?”

“F-fuck… y-you… K-Kuna you- yes!” You’re whimpering out when he pounds his cock even deeper, and you hear it, the squelching wetness of your soaking cunt, the slap of his balls on your ass, as his face drips sweat right down onto your own, and you’re crying it feels so good.

“Crying sexy!? Is anything ya do not sexy… slutty brat… swear I’ll ruin you for fuckin anyone, yeah?” You just nod weakly, sniffling when Sukuna cups your face between his huge hands, pounding deeper and deeper in your hole, and he’s finally slowing, laughing. “Milking me?”

“Whass that… Kuna…” Your words are jumbled as the man you’ve loved forever beats your poor little cunt up, as he fucks velvety walls until they’re aching, rubbing your walls so good, hitting just that fucking spot, over and over, ridge of that drooly tip sending you.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself, can you? So pathetic, c-can’t stop cummin…” He’s huffing now, leaning over you, so big and strong you feel so damn tiny under him, his power, the way he moves, the way he fucks you like he owns your pussy.

“Ngh…” You can’t speak anymore, it’s all sounds, whines, whimpers.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna be dripping me for days huh? Want me to, don’t ya brat?” He holds your thighs up so high you could hardly breathe, as he works your cunt harder, grinding against you when his tip bruises your cervix. “Answer me, now, use those words.”

“Fill me, please.” You whisper, and he moans, smirking then, leaning so that his lips are a breath away.

“Want me to breed that slutty pussy?”

“Yes.” Sukuna folds then, busting so deep in your cunt, filling you to the brim with his endless spurts of hot cum, until you can’t stand it, so hot and full, you feel Sukuna fucking everywhere. He’s still pumping now, kissing you, moaning his pleasure as your thighs shake against him.

“That’s it, taking it so good aren’t ya baby? Cunt so eager. Slutty.” You just nod weakly, and he laughs. “That's how I shut you up? Could have been doing it.”

“You love my mouth.” You counter, earning his chuckle, when he finally eases your thighs down, kissing you just a bit softer, your nails that have been pressing and leaving marks on his back relaxes now, as you both breathe together, slower and slower.

“I do love it.”

“You love me.”

“Don’t get too annoying about it.” You giggle, and he adores the way your nose scrunches. “Fucking cute.”

“Yeah?” He nods, finally admitting it, what’s been in his heart so long he doesn’t know how he handled it, the lightness he feels of you knowing is so amazing he can’t put it in words.

“Yeah.” Is all he says for now, kissing you again. Soon he’s in the shower with you, ‘cleaning’ you, as he’s drinking your pussy right up on his knees, as the hot spray falls down.

Then, Sukuna is fucking you right on his shower wall, and you’re clinging to him desperately, as his cock works you in ways you could have never known. “Gonna forget anything, anyone, just me, brat.” He huffs in your ear.

Later, it’s no longer Valentine’s day, shit it’s maybe three am? But Sukuna isn’t done with your pussy, no he’s far from it, having you on your hands and knees on his bed as he fucks you, slapping your ass over and over, leaving hand prints. Then he’s prone bone over you, wrapping long fingers around your throat, squeezing as you gasp and cum all over his cock.

“Put a fuckin baby in ya, huh? Want that, don’t ya?” He’s huffing that morning, not like either of you have slept, and he’s laying behind you, you were supposed to cuddle but Sukuna has catching up to do with you, so he’s cradling you, fucking you with your one leg up over his thigh.

“Want it… want it…” You’re throwing your head back, while he’s fucking one load of cum out and pumping more into you, until you’re a sobbing mess, and Sukuna could still go, but you’re passing out, weak and snuggling him.

“You’re so… beautiful.” He whispers as you snore lightly, before rolling his eyes. “And annoying.”

“Hmm.” You mumble, when he shoves at you, and your eyes adjust to the man you’ve always loved, smiling just a little soft for a moment. “You love me.”

“Shut it brat. Stop snoring or I’ll kick you out.” You just giggle, kissing him.

“Shh. Love you Kuna.” You murmur, falling asleep on his chest, feeling for the first time in forever like the puzzle pieces have fallen together, and Sukuna watches you until his heavy eyes knock him out with you, snoring even louder than you. When you wake to him eating your pussy, all puffy and sore, you wonder just what you’re in for.

“Taste us, fuck.” He drinks you up, leaning over, spitting in your mouth then, you gasp at it, at his insane grin. “Taste s’yummy, huh?”

“How about g’morning, hmm?” You manage, coughing just a bit, and he’s nudging his broad shoulders back between your thighs.

“Nah, fuck that.” He buries his face against your pussy, your hands entangling in his messy locks, back arching.

“Please.” You whisper, soon he’s working over you, hand wrapping your throat, as he shoves that thick cock in your sore little pussy over and over, until you’re both losing the day in each other.

And that was the last time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, but this time it worked, and you felt the same the entire time

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[cowboyheyxu]

when you were little, you remember trying to stay up late while waiting for caleb.

he would always be doing something with his friends while you were at home. he'd invite you occasionally, but you turned him down most of the time. all of his friends scared you—frankly, it was due to age, but also they would probably ignore you in favor of caleb. so, you opted to stay home.

caleb would promise to watch a movie with you, lose track of time, and then come home at 11pm. caleb would tell you that he'd come home early to play that new game with you, and you fell asleep ages before he came home. he said he'd help you with your homework, but when he got home, he found you sleeping on the dinner table.

he would always feel bad for it. you could tell by the way he stopped teasing you as much, practically sucking up to you when he came home later than promised. no matter how many times you assured him that it was fine, he never took it.

but sometimes, he'd tease you. once, he caught you staying up late for him (you had not fallen asleep yet), and asked if you missed him. he playfully stroked your cheek while you said, "of course not," while you rolled your eyes. caleb could never know that you did. terribly.

you think that it's good karma that he waits for you now.

recently, caleb took a temporary leave from the DAA. his coworkers were shocked, to say the least. he was dedicated to his job—he is a colonel in the farspace fleet, after all. caleb never revealed the reason of his departure, wanting to keep you a secret.

when asked about it, he said, "i'm not ashamed of you or anything, if that's what you're worried about. that's never it. ever," he pulls you in an embrace for reassurance. you melt into his big, broad body. you feel him let out an exhale above your head.

"i just... don't wanna share you," he mumbled into your ear.

you smile to yourself at the memory, opening the door to your apartment and taking your boots off. there's no light from the kitchen or living room, so you assume that caleb's gone off to bed early.

your footsteps pad through the quiet apartment to your dark bedroom. caleb is perched upright on your bed, resting his head on the headboard. he's tilted a little bit to the side, neck craned upwards.

you try not to run over to him. you bite the inside of your lip to stop the urge from overcoming you. when you get to caleb's side, you brush your hand over his hair, smoothing it out. your fingers trace his forehead, the slope of his nose, and his jawline. you're obsessed with him, you think, an unhealthy amount of obsessed.

"there's no way this can be comfortable," you quietly laugh, gently rubbing caleb's cheek. when you begin to shift his position, a hand reaches out and grabs your wrist.

caleb's hand swallows your wrist, and he keeps you in place. he turns his head over to you, only slightly peering his eyes open, "hey, pipsqueak. you're back."

"hi, sweet boy," you smile at him, "i'm here."

even in the dark, you notice the tips of his ears turning red. he smiles at the endearment and raises your hand to his lips, pressing a quick peck to it. then, he yanks you down onto the bed with him, pulling you into his arms.

you're in a jumbled position on top of him: your body is draped over his hips, your legs are near-dangling off of the bed, and your head is against his bare chest. the skin-to-skin contact is electrifying, and you have to look up to talk to him. the way caleb stares down at you causes you to heat up. you gulp.

"long day today? you came back later than usual," he says pulling you up higher so your legs aren't dangling.

"there were so many wanderers," you reply. you rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust yourself to a sitting position. you move to his side, and caleb lets out of a small groan. "i'm sorry i was late."

"it's fine," caleb shakes his head and rests his head on your shoulder. you continue brushing through his hair and he lets out a content sigh.

"how long have you been awake?" you rub up and down his arms, soothing him.

"not long," he finds satisfaction in the crook of your neck, placing small kisses in the crevice. he feels your hands tighten around his biceps, and you can feel him smirk against your neck. he pauses to ask, "are you tired?"

"exhausted," you shake your head. "i can't wait to go to bed."

caleb mhms into your neck, still pressing his lips around it. your heart begins to race, and if you stay in this position, you know you're never going to leave. you can hear him let out quiet moans of pleasure while he continues to kiss you.

"alright, caleb," you try to pull away, but he only tugs you closer to him, not wanting to detach his lips from you, "i haven't even showered yet, c'mon."

he stops, and cradles your face his both of his hands. he strokes your cheekbones back and forth, then he presses his forehead onto yours. you place your hands on top of his, rubbing his knuckles in silence. the only sound is your synchronized breathing.

"just for five minutes?"

you laugh again, and you watch as it tickles caleb's face. he scrunches it momentarily and you take this time to pull back. caleb intertwines his hand in yours when you stand up.

"i've been waiting all night, y'know?" he looks up at you with big, pouty eyes. you try your best not to cave. or giggle, for that matter. if that happens, then he'll know that he has you, and you won't be able to escape from that.

"liar! you said you haven't been awake for long!" you playfully swat at him. "and, do you remember when you'd keep me waiting as kids?" you reminisce, tapping your finger against your chin as if you were in deep thought. "think of this as karma," you smile.

caleb pouts as he swings your arms back and forth, keeping you still. "i said i was sorryyy," he drags out, "sooo many times."

he tugs you back one last time, but with less force than before. you stumble back into bed, and he hugs you tighty.

"i always thought of you," he whispers up at you, "so mentally, i was with you."

you snort, "i'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"it is," he cheekily says. you hear a lilt in his voice.

"no, i remember being super tired and waiting for you to help me out with my science work. only for you to show up at like, what? was it 10 or 11?" you tease him, poking at his chest.

caleb shakes his head, burying himself deeper into you, "okay, valid. but, in my defense, i sped back home to you. i think i made a ten minute run into five that day."

you want to call him out again, but you can vividly recall his face when he came back to you. he was red—much redder than usual—and panting like a dog. your homework was quickly forgotten when you shot up and asked him if he was okay or not. his breathing was erratic, and there was so much sweat dripping down on him. but the only thing he asked about was if you still needed help on your homework.

"yeah," you say softly, "i remember that."

you kiss the top of his head and caleb releases a long exhale into your chest. "okay. i'll be quick, alright? just like you were. you won't be waiting for long," another kiss, "just let me shower, m'kay?"

at this, caleb opens an eye, a grin showing up on his face, "can i come with?"

you groan loudly, releasing yourself from caleb's grasp as you stand back up. he leans back and sits on his arms, laughing when you get up. his laughter is contagious—it's boisterous and bounces around the while room—and you find yourself giggling along with him.

you shake your head fondly as you lean down and kiss him on his lips. how could you have gone so many years without this? caleb was always right there—right in front of you—and you could've had him this whole time.

you kiss him with everything that's in you, even through your exhaustion. he slides his hand over to cup your cheek, and he presses his lips deeper into yours. you let out quiet whimpers as he continues, and caleb reciprocates.

it takes about five minutes for the two of you to come back up for air. you're breathless, and you're eyes are set on the rise and fall of caleb's chest. it reminds you of the homework night, and you chuckle before pecking him one more time.

"i'll be quick, remember?" you tuck some of his hair behind his ear. he leans into your hand, desperately. "don't miss me too much, okay? i love you," you smile.

you set off into the bathroom, replaying moments of your childhood throughout your head as you shower. has caleb always run back to you? was he always thinking about you? warmth rushes through your body, and it's not because of the hot water.

you're not surprised when caleb comes in as soon as he hears the water turn off. he stretches, flexing his abs and biceps. you're not sure if that was done on purpose.

and when he's there to help you change, blow-dry your hair, and do your skincare with him, and brush your teeth, you don't complain.

he's just making up for lost time anyway.

caleb craze is real (please let it be the 22nd NOW PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

i love love love love angst but because i have work tomorrow (it's going to be so busy at the clinic please pray for me) i needed this.

[phtosynthesis]

homecoming — s. reid

spencer reunites with his wife, and their baby. (post-prison spencer)

𖡼 ⊹ ˚.

Spencer can feel his spine go rigid once he stands in front of his house's door. It's the exact moment he's fantasized about so many times while trapped inside the four walls of prison; when sleep would evade him and his mind would drift to the day he finally got to see you again.

When he'd get to hold you in his arms once more and smell your shampoo and perfume and feel the way a satisfied breath left your lungs as you clung to him. That moment he's been dreaming about for months on end is finally a reality, yet it still feels like a dream to him.

With bated breath, he turns the knob and the door opens with a small creek. In the back of his mind he wants to chastise you for having the door unlocked, but the bigger part of his brain can't be bothered to make a big deal out of that right now when all he can think about is the prospect of feeling your warmth against his otherwise cold and aching body again.

Quietly, he makes his way through the house, and he realizes with a pained heart that it feels unfamiliar to him. Nothing has actually changed since he'd been gone — all the furniture was still placed where he'd left it and nothing substantially new had been added as far as he can tell — but it feels as if he's stepping into another world, an environment he no longer has a place in.

He walks past the living room when there's no trace of you in it and when he doesn't find you in the kitchen either, he makes his way down the hallway to the first room on his left. The door is open a fraction, and from behind it, he can faintly hear your voice as you softly sing a lullaby that's not familiar to him.

At once, like a bucket of ice water straight to the face, it hits him that he's not only reuniting with you, but for the first time, he's going to be meeting the newest addition to the family. The family he had so abruptly been pulled away from and deprived of some of the most monumental moments in both your lives.

His heart had been shattered when he realized he wasn't going to be present for the birth of his own child, that you would have to spend the last few months of your pregnancy alone and unsure of the fact that you'll ever see your husband again. He owes both Emily and JJ the world and would spend the rest of his life thanking them for looking after you while he was away and providing the support he couldn't physically give you.

He hadn't met them yet, but before the baby was even born, he had promised himself he would be the best father he could be. He promised himself we would never be like his own father, that he'd give his everything to his new family.

Very quietly, he opens the door, and his gaze is immediately drawn to you as you stand in the middle of the freshly finished nursery. You have your back facing him as you softly sing to the baby held within your embrace. Your voice, after he'd been deprived of it for so long, sounds like the most heavenly music to his ears, and he suddenly feels like he wants to cry. He's finally home with both of you, and he gets to listen as you sing to your baby. He gets to see his baby for the first time, and it's all too much for his big brain and even bigger heart to handle.

Finally, as though you could sense his presence, you turn around and look Spencer square in the eyes as he stands in the threshold of the nursery. For the first few moments, you try to convince yourself you're simply seeing things. It wouldn't be the first time, seeing as your mind loved to taunt you at times when you could hear his voice calling to you in the hallways or when his pillow case smelled like he was still sleeping right next to you.

You soon realize that it's not your mind playing tricks on you, though, and that it really is Spencer standing in front of you. With the realization, it felt like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, like a painful punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to launch yourself into his arms, cling to him, and cry in a way you haven't allowed yourself to since he went away. But you do none of that, and instead, you just stand and look at him as if your feet had been deadbolted to the floor, and your voice had permanently disappeared.

"Hi." Spencer's voice finally fills the seemingly endless silence, sounding unsure and small. "Hi," you return the gesture with a much shakier tone, desperately trying not to burst into tears.

The baby in your embrace suddenly starts fussing, cooing and wiggling around in your steady arms, and both you and Spencer's attention are drawn to the small bundle still wrapped in your embrace.

You whisper a few hushes and move your arms back and forth in a calming rhythm. As the cooing turns to soft breathing once again, your eyes move to Spencer, almost as if you're scared he'd dissappear if he leaves your sight for too long. You see that his attention is still stuck on the baby on your arms, brown eyes tired yet filled with so much emotion you could almost cry just looking at him.

"Would you like to hold her?" you ask softly, and Spencer's attention is once again on you. "Her?" he asks excitedly, smiling in a way that makes your heart ache with an overwhelming amount of love. Oh, how you missed him. "It's a girl?" You nod with a sad smile, looking down at her as she now lays asleep in your arms. "You can hold her, Spencer, it's okay," you say, noting his hesitance seeing as he still stood planted by the entrance, not having taken a single step closer.

Your encouragement fuels him, and he slowly makes his way inside the nursery until he's standing in front of you, looking down into the crook of your arm. From within the swaddle of blankets, he sees the little face; closed eyes, and a mouth that stays in a permanent pout with a button nose that scrunches adorably every now and then.

"Open your arms," you say, getting ready to hand her over, and he feels his heart beat frantically in anticipation. He almost feels lightheaded with anxiety and excitement, but he opens his arms, and carefully, you place her into his embrace. You watch attentively as he holds onto her securely, head bending down slightly so as to get a better look as he peers down at his daughter, still fast asleep in his arms.

He doesn't even register he's crying until he can feel your hand gently wiping at the stray tears on his cheeks. He looks over at you, brand new tears sitting idle in his waterline as everything finally sinks in for him. He was finally home with you and his daughter, his family, and he finally got to see you and hold you close to him.

In reality, he knew there was still so much left unsaid, and both of you had a long way to go from here, but right now, nothing else mattered. He was finally home, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

[cherryblossom-heart]

I hate you (7.5/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

The night that changed everything

Content Warning: Angst, Enemies to lovers, Sukuna is his own warning, Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state Sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). This is a +18 post so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you. Not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

W.C: 5.8K

A/N: Hi besties! Here we have the night they spent together. I hope you guys enjoy it!

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

8:25 p.m.

“Are you sure we can’t just order takeout?”

Sukunas eyes met yours.

“No. We’re staying to eat.”

Sukuna was used to your insults. The oh so clever ways you found to call him an idiot, a manwhore, a joke. He was used to the rage you put behind your words whenever he found a way to get under your skin. He even was used to the physical violence you enforced against him, a small scar over his left eyebrow served as an amusing reminder of the time you threw a vase at his face for “accidentally” dropping hot sauce all over you before you went out with your friends. The three stitches his wound required had been worth it as soon as he saw you coming out of your room with a different dress, the amount of exposed skin turned down a notch.

Sukuna was used to receive and be the source of your rage. It was fun. It was entertaining. It was comfortable.

What Sukuna wasn’t used to was the emptiness behind your eyes. Ever since that night the spark he liked ignite was gone, almost as it had been sucked out of you. The memory of that night replayed constantly on his mind.

“Get the fuck of me!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

A curling scream echoed in the alley behind the bar.

Sukunas heart rose to his throat. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even remember where he had placed his keys or his gun, a kitchen knife in his hand as he had left his apartment in a rush. He hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes or a shirt, nothing more than just a pair of black sweatpants and desperation joined him as he ran through the dark streets of Tokyo.

Ryomen Sukuna was a man with many faults. Prone to anger. Sociopathic tendencies. Narcisism in its most pure form. He wasn’t a stranger to rage or violence but the wrath that rose in him the moment he heard your scream wasn’t of this world. Worlds could be burned just by the mere touch of the fire of his rage.

“Get off!”

The back door had been locked, probably by one bastard inside. His body smashed again and again against the door unsuccessfully, the metal bolt stopping him from wreaking havoc inside. You must’ve been close to the back door as he heard you calling for him.

“Sukuna!”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

He heard the echo of a slap.

Tick

There had been few instances where Sukuna had blacked out because of anger. There had been one time when his little brother Jin had been pushed into a wall by a group of older kids, his head hitting the concrete.

That had been the first time Sukuna had ever been arrested.

The second time had happened more recently. He had been foolish, unprepared for betrayal. Jogo, a strange guy that he had dealt with in the past and a guy that claimed to be his ally, had tried to put a leash on him. He had dared to use his family and friends to control him, threatening everyone from Uraume to his little nephew Yuji. No one had found Jogo’s corpse yet.

This time had been different. Usually, he retained a couple of the memories of what had transpired, he remembered the screams of those kids, he remembered the look in Jogo’s eyes as life left his body. He remembered them begging, pleading him to stop.

This time he didn’t remember running to the front door, his body smashing against the glass of one of the shop windows making sharp little pieces of crystal collide against his skin, leaving trails of blood behind. He didn’t even remember feeling the same pieces of glass crunching under his bare feet, painfully digging in his skin.

He didn’t even remember your cries or screams, neither the silence his entrance had caused. The only thing he remembered was the image that welcomed him when he finally went through the kitchen doors. Three men were in the kitchen with you, pressing your body against the bar. Tears ran down your face as struggled against them, sheer panic plastered all over your face. He remembered how wide your eyes had been as one of the men pressed a blade against your neck, stopping Sukuna in his tracks.

He remembered your tears. He remembered your fear. He remembered your anger. He remembered the way you had grabbed a knife, stabbing them man that held you hostage in the side of his torso.

He didn’t wake up until your voice called his name once more, stopping him from his frenzy as his fist collided again and again against the man’s face. Your face was drenched covered in blood, purple and black spots already forming along your cheek. His knuckles were raw and broken, the man under him more likely than not dead. They didn’t hurt him as much as the pain the sight of your bruised face brought him.

“Sukuna…” your voice died on your lips.

His hands reached out to you and for the first time you had recoiled before he could even touch you.

He was going to kill them, all of them.

“Are you ready to order?” A feminine voice brought him out of his thoughts. A pretty waitress stood in front of them, her smile directed towards him.

“Two miso soups” He grunted.

Usually, his unfriendly demeanor was enough for people to leave him alone. Unfortunately, the waitress had been too focused on his physique to be deterred by his personality.

“Coming right up.” She said as she finished writing on her notebook. She pushed her short black hair behind her ears, a blush spreading through her face. “I like your tattoos”

“Mmm”

His eyes fell on his cellphone, hoping she would get the message.

She didn’t.

“I have a couple of them myself. I have two on my arm and one… well I couldn’t show you where the other one is.”

Any other day Sukuna would’ve taken the bait, even better with you watching. But when the corner of his eye caught you staring through the window, any sort of satisfaction left his body.

You weren’t even looking at him.

“Mmm”

He didn’t spare her a glance.

The waitress opened her mouth one last time, hoping that to at least get his attention.

“It’s nice of you to take your sister out to eat. Not a lot of brothers are this nice.”

Tick.

“What the fuck makes you think she’s my sister?”

The waitress had finally caught his indifference… a little too late.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I was just– “

“I know what the fuck you’re trying to do.” Sukuna cut her off, his eyes burning through the girls skull. “I don’t do desperate sluts, especially not the ones that whore themselves out when I already have company.”

“I-I’m sorry, I– “

“I don’t give a fuck about your apologies.” Sukunas eyes burned with fire, his fist hitting the table gathering everyone’s attention. “What makes you think I, let alone anyone in this restaurant with functioning eyes and a sense of smell, would even touch you? You think an ugly, desperate, fish smelling skank like you can–”

Your hand reached to his “Enough.”

A battle of stares ensued. Carmin eyes stared at yours, the anger they carried could’ve made even the strongest man shiver under them. Not you. Never you. Not even when yours where void of any emotion.

As always, you won.

“Go. Ask another waitress to bring our food.” You told the girl, eyes still focused on him. “I already have enough fish in my soup.”

Sukuna chuckled.

A few moments later two steaming bowls of miso were dropped off at your table by a male waiter.

“I don’t like miso soup.” You broke the silence.

“Lie. You don’t like porridge.”

“How do you even know that?”

For a second, Sukunas heart began racing, an annoying habit it had acquired for the past few months.

“I know everything you hate just in case I have to use it.”

“Asshole.”

He brought the white bowl to his lips, the savory taste of the broth lingering on his mouth. He had never considered himself well-mannered so it wasn’t a surprise when mere seconds later, the bowl was emptied from any liquid.

Yours, on the other hand, remained intact. Your eyes had gone back to the window, thoughts lost so far Sukuna couldn’t decipher them. The dark circles below them were poorly concealed, the darker tone crashing against whatever makeup product you were using to cover them.

“Brat.”

You didn’t turn to him, but he knew you were listening.

“Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

Tick

Sukunas laugh filled the air, his head pulled back as he rubbed his eyes. Your head finally snapped to his direction, eyebrows furrowing with frustration the longer his laugh continued.

Thirty seconds was all it took for your patience to run out.

“What’s so funny?”

He took a deep breath, his hand holding his stomach as the pain from laughing too much took over his abdomen.

“You.”

You scoffed “What about me?”

Sukunas smile widened with the cockiness that’s characterized him.

“I never took you for a weakling.”

Your jaw hardened, teeth grinding so hard he could almost hear your enamel disintegrating itself away.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Fire.

Scalding, raging fire. Your eyes opened wide, burning everything on their path.

Sukunas skin filled with goosebumps.

“You’re going to let a couple of fat, weak, disgusting pigs beat you?”

Your breathing hitched before your hands turned into fists.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He leaned in.

“All I see is someone who’s letting herself be controlled. Look at yourself.” His eyes traveled along your face and your clothes, earning yourself an eye roll. “You’re starving yourself away, not sleeping, pretending you're fine as if nothing happened or at least trying to. They couldn’t hurt your body but you’re letting them kill away your mind?”

His words weakened your anger, your eyes watering a second later. Sukunas chest ached uncomfortably, as his mind told him to turn away from the source of his pain. He hated it. He wanted it gone. Whatever strange concoction of feelings you brought was foreign to him, but it was powerful enough to make him lose focus.

“You want to prove me wrong?”

He didn’t give you time to answer.

“Eat. Now.”

10:17 p.m.

“What are we doing here?”

Sukunas foot stepped on the rear brake making the motorcycle coming to a stop. He parked a couple of streets away, making you both walk until you reached a small white house in the outskirts of Tokyo.

You both walked to the white mid-size sedan parked outsides, making your way to the driver’s door. Your hands stopped him when he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his elbow

“What the fuck Sukuna? You’re going to get us arrested.”

“Not if you shut the fuck up.” He whispered, shaking your hand off. “You don’t remember this car, do you?”

Your eyes scanned the vehicle, looking through the window for any clues. Once your eyes landed on the driver seat where a chocolate axe body spray laid, they lit up with recognition and disgust.

“Daichi? My ex-manager?”

He tied one last knot.

“Remember the scrap yard Uraume and I used to hang out around when we were kids?”

“Yeah?”

He threw his keys at you, barely giving you time to catch them.

“Take my bike and meet me there.”

You stood there frozen as you processed what he said but Sukuna didn’t have time to wait for your brain to finally start working.

“Go! Now!”

His elbow crashed against the crystal, shattering everything on its path. The alarm went off, finally snapping you out of it. It didn’t take him longer than 3 minutes to silence the alarm and have the vehicle up and running. After years of experience taking bigger and better vehicles, a 2005 dodge wasn’t going to be a problem, it had almost been boring. You were long gone once the porch lights turned on, the echo of his bike speeding away filling the streets instead.

A short man with dark hair and an overhanging stomach came out screaming, a broomstick in his hands. Sukuna’s right foot dug in the gas pedal leaving the smell of burnt tire’s behind as his middle finger stuck out of the window.

10:41 p.m.

 The rubble pathway to the boneyard made Sukuna remember why he preferred his bike over a constricted, heavy, metal box. Every rock sent the stability of the vehicle out the window making it seem as he was using the car to swim against the current, the two sixpacks of beer clashing against each other in the back.

Five minutes later he finally found you, his bike resting next to a torn down SUV as you paced back and forth. He didn’t had time to get both feet out of the car before you came to face him.

“What the fuck?” You yelled; your breathing heavy as your hands shook. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Perfect, he thought to himself.

“Out of the way, slut.”

You scoffed, not before closing the door on him. The door collided against his hand and the brewing anger only you could pull out of him came to surface. His first instinct was to grab you by the throat, wishing nothing more than throwing you to the ground. Instead, he smashed the door closed as the back of his mind pleaded him not to upset you.

Upset you.

Since when did he care?

Throughout the years he had never cared for your emotions other than your anger. Your anger has always been the prime source of his entertainment, the things he had said, the things he had done, all for his own sake. He had pulled tears from your eyes, he had hurt you emotionally and sometimes physically just to pull a good laugh from himself.

He didn’t care about you.

But why did your tears haunt his dreams ever since that night?

“You’re fucking insane! We could get arrested!”

He scoffed, opening the passenger door. “Calm your tits, brat. No one is getting arrested.”

“You fucking calm your tits when I tear your head off for sending me to prison.” You turned away from him.

He took out the packs of beer along with a metal bat he had paid the liquor store owner for. He cracked open a can, the shaking of the car taking effect in the drink making it explode as soon as he opened it.

Sukuna welcomed the bitter taste of the liquor, anything that could distract him from the nuisance your presence brought him.

 “Here.” He placed a metal bat in your hands.

“What am I supposed to with this?”

“Hit the car.” Sukuna said as if it was obvious.

“What?” You looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “No, what the hell?”

“Hit the fucking car.”

You pushed the bat back to his chest, forcing him to hold it. “I’m not hitting the fucking car, idiot.”

“Alright, if you’re not hitting the car then you have to admit you’re not ok.”

“What?”

Your tone hardened and he could almost see the walls building themselves back up.

“You heard me.” Sukuna repeated, opening a new can as he crushed the first one. “Hit the car or tell the truth.”

“I’m not doing shit.” You turned to his bike, your hands digging in your pockets.

Sukuna pulled you back by the arm, his hand snatching his keys out of your fingers.

“You’re not going anywhere until you either beat the shit out of this car or you fucking tell the truth.”

You tried to pull yourself free, but his grip was made from steel.

“Let me go”

“Make me.” 

His eyes wondered down your face, staying on your lips for only a quarter of a second. You moved yourself closer to him and for a moment Sukuna thought you might kiss him. His body unconsciously filled with anticipation, only to have you snatch the bat out of his hands.

Hard, heavy footsteps carried you away until you reached the front of the car. You got into position, your hands gripping the handle so tightly he thought you might hurt yourself. You looked back at him one last time, only turning once he gave you a small nod.

Smash.

“Again.” He barked. Sukuna had expected you to fight back but the sound of the metal colliding against metal surprised him.

Smash.

“Again.”

Smash

“Again.”

Smash

“Fuck your job.” You yelled, your voice cracking in the last word.

Smash

“Fuck your pathetic life.”

Smash

“Fuck you, you mother fucking abortion looking like bastard!”

Smash

“Fuck you!

Fuck you!

Fuck you!”

Your angry screams had turned into wails, each one more painful than the other. The more you hit the car the faster your façade fell, showing him every dark thought you had forcefully hidden away from everyone. His heart began pounding against his chest, his own heartbeat deafening him from your suffering.

Something unexpected happened to Sukuna that night.

Physical touch for him mostly meant sex, or at least with the intention to end in sex. Sukuna was rough edges and violence; kindness and tenderness were never part of vocabulary and he preferred it that way. Why would he spend time in something he never saw a useful purpose for? Love meant weakness, and weakness was dangerous for men like him.

If love was useless to Sukuna, then why did he reach out for you? Why did he pulled the bat away, throwing it to the side as his arms wrapped around you? Why did he pushed your face to his chest, hoping his shirt would wipe your tears away so he wouldn’t have to see them?

“Stop it!” You fought back. “Let me go. Let me fucking go!”

He didn’t budge.

Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, holding onto him like he was your lifesaver. He could tell you were still struggling, fighting with everything in you to keep the tears inside. Even after finally breaking apart you still tried to find strength to not collapse.

He liked that about you, even if he would never admit it. Not even to himself.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked as you pulled back from his embrace, but his arms wouldn’t release you. “Why do you care?”

Sukuna was left speechless for the first time in his life.

What was he even trying to get out of this? Didn’t he hate you? With everything that had happened between you, why did he go out of his way to help you and expected nothing in return?

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. Red, slightly swollen eyes looked back at him and the pain in his chest intensified. “All I know is I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He would destroy worlds to erase the sadness behind your eyes.

11:03 p.m.

“Isn’t it weird we’ve known each other for almost a decade, and this is the first time we’ve actually hung out? Outside of sex of course.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He said as he drank the last sip of the last beer.

A mountain of smashed cans rested beside him as you both laid down in the hood of the now broken up car with the word “Rapist” scratched up in all sides. Both your jackets laid below you to protect you from the coldness of the metal as you looked at the dark sky.

“Why do you think that is?”

 He looked at you, laying on your back and staring at the stars, your eyes finally lost in something else other than the darkness in your head. He could almost see the real you again.

“Because you’re a pain in the ass.”

You laughed.

“Yeah well, you’re not a spring breeze yourself.” You countered asclosed your eyes, a smile adorning your face.

Sukunas hand itched with the need to touch you, almost as if it had a mind of his own. This wouldn’t have bothered him as much if what he wanted to touch were your breasts or reach for that sweet spot between your legs, he would even be ok if it was your thighs, the soft sensitive skin along them always calling for him.

Instead, he wanted to reach for your face, trace along the path of your tears all the way down to your lips. He wanted to reach out for your hand, figure out if entwining his fingers with yours would be as great as he pictured in his imagination.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” You said with a smirk.

He was glad your eyes were still closed, or you would’ve seen the slight blush crossing his face.

“As if, brat. I would go blind if I looked at you for too long.”

You scoffed. “Then why haven’t you? I see you looking at me all the time.”

His brain froze, his heart missing a heartbeat.

“Keep it up and I might think you actually like me, pretty boy.”

“I haven’t reached rock bottom yet. Maybe then you might have a chance.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

Sukuna laid back down on the car as he forced his heart to stop beating so fast. He wasn’t wrong when he said you were a pain in the ass, especially now that he couldn’t even control his body.

“I know that you burned down the store I used to work in.”

He didn’t answer, unsure on why you were bringing it up.

“Why did you do it?”

Another thing he wasn’t sure of. Somehow, when it came to you, he wasn’t sure of a lot of things.

He couldn’t tell you that, though.

“As much as I hate you, you’re Uraume’s sister.” He took a deep breath, hoping his lie would be believable enough. “They’re like family to me.”

“So, I’m like family to you too?”

“No.” He answered too fast for his liking. “You’re more like a pebble in my shoe that for some reason Uraume loves.”

“Is that the only reason why you did it?” You kept questioning to his dismay.

Did you know? There was no way you could know, right?

“Why else would I do it? You’re my friends annoying little sister and a slut I’ve fucked a couple of times; there’s nothing more to it.”

His words seemed to end the discussion, but he had his own questions brewing.

“Are you planning on telling Uraume?”

He felt your body tense up.

“No. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I–“ you cut yourself off, searching for the right words. “I don’t want them in all of this. Want it or not, you killed a guy, Sukuna. I might have too, we don’t know.”

“I handled it.” He interjected but that wasn’t enough for you.

“It doesn’t matter.” You turned to your side, facing him. “If I tell Uraume two things could happen and both of them end with them going to prison.”

“You don’t give them enough credit if you think Uraume would get caught.”

“It’s not about that, Sukuna. If I can stop them from getting in more trouble than they already are, I’ll do it.”

Even if it didn’t make sense to him, he could understand the thought process behind it. He didn’t know how aware you were of the “business” him and Uraume dealt with, or how deep in the neck they were. But he understood your desire to protect them even if they had committed far worse crimes.

And with that a thought popped in his head.

“You not being able to sleep… is it because I killed that guy in front of you?”

“No. Well– not in the way you think.”

He gave you a look, telling you to continue.

“When you killed that guy… I didn’t feel sad or scared.” You took a deep breath. “I-I felt relieved, so fucking relieved. It was almost like I enjoyed it, which I guess it makes sense with all things considered but–”

You hesitated, and Sukuna could sense the silent battle you were having over whether to speak or not.

"I was angry too. I was angry I didn’t kill him myself. I was angry I couldn’t see his eyes drain of life and… I was angry I wouldn’t be the last thing he saw when he died.”

Sukuna could sense the shame in your words, the guilt of your feelings filling you again. He wanted to reach out to you, engulf you in a tight embrace again but he stopped himself from it.

“You… you think that makes me a monster?” You asked.

He wiped away a lonely tear that fell from your left eye.

“I know monsters and you’re not one of them. You’re just human.”

 “Yeah, a fucked up one.”

“Not as fucked up as me, right?” He shrugged.

You chuckled at his words. “Yeah, that bit is true.”

In a surprising move from your part, your fingers found his hand as you entwined them with his. Your warmth invading Sukunas senses as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Thanks.” You whispered. “For all of this.”

He could only bring himself to say one word.

“Sure.”

12:38 a.m.

“How are we going to get in? I don’t even have the right clothes.”

“Shut it. I know a way.”

After asking to go somewhere different, Sukuna wanted to know what you had in mind. When you said dancing, it was obvious it wasn’t what he had hoped for. He had hoped your idea of somewhere different would be his apartment, particularly his bed but he wasn’t too picky with the surface.

Instead he found himself guiding you through an alley behind The Underworld, a popular night club in the middle of Tokyo. After he found the back door he looked on windows near the backroom, finding one of them unlatched. He pulled it open, moving to the side as he waited for you to jump in.

“You’re not really serious, are you?” You asked incredulously.

“You in or not?”

You looked through the alley, searching for any unwanted spectator. After finding nothing, you rolled your eyes before walking to him “Fine, whatever.”

Both of you came out of the backroom, Sukuna guiding you both to the employees only resting area with a door that guided to the bar area. Darkness barely lit up by strobe lights and a couple of ambiance light welcomed you as soon as you crossed the door. The bass music hit your bodies through the air, each low down filtering through your bones.

You were clearly underdressed, both of you wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, his only possible salvation the black leather jacket he carried most places. Theres was nothing to worry though, the darkness in the club were enough to cover you from everyone else’s eyes.

Passing next to the bar, Sukuna managed to swipe a bottle some poor bartender had left unattended, rushing you to the other side of the establishment. You took charge once you were at a safe distance, guiding him to the middle of the dance floor. Red, purple and blue lights hit you in the face and he thought he had never seen anyone as majestic.

Every thought he had of you confused him, some of them even sending him to a panic, but he also knew he enjoyed them. He enjoyed the fire you once again carried inside you, the way your eyebrows furrowed whenever he would spout hateful names towards you, or the way your eyes crinkle when he had pissed you off too much.

He liked the way your lips moaned his name when he fucked you silly.

You had started dancing, arms in the air as you swayed your hips. Of course, you also danced like a slut, hypnotizing him as you enjoyed the music. He took a sip of the vodka bottle he carried, his carnal instincts taking over finally. It had been almost too long since the last time he had felt you around his cock and now that you were here, he wanted nothing more than taking you to the bathroom and make you scream his name.

He stalked you, like a predator waiting to catch his prey, anticipation overfilling him the longer you kept your eyes closed. You lifted your arms a little too high, revealing to him the black laced thong you were wearing.

He lost control.

Sukuna spun you around, grabbing your hips between his hands. You had gasped when he had grabbed you, but once you recognized him you went back to your dancing, hips now moving along with his touch. Your ass pressed against his crotch, effectively springing up his cock as soon as he felt your warmth. His hands wondered up your body, squeezing your tits on the way up to your neck, pushing you more against him.

He didn’t care if everyone could see you and for the way you looked at him, neither did you. Somehow his brain had been taken over by his basic instincts, his body craving more and more like a thirsty animal. Your eyes traveled down to his lips as you leaned in close enough for him to almost taste you.

Finally, after so long.

However, you pulled away, a sultry smirk on your lips.

“Can you go get a glass with ice? I like my vodka cold.”

He was going to fucking kill you. He tried grabbing you but you scaped his touch, your smile getting wider.

“Nuh huh, ice first.”

Fucking bitch.

Sukuna scoffed as he turned away, trying to find a table where to swipe the glass with ice so he could go back and put you in your place. With the corner of his eye he could see you looking at him, still dancing in the middle of the floor. You were riling him up, the playful look in your eyes telling him you wanted him too. Fine, he would play your game if you accepted the consequences.

After what it seemed like the hundredth table, he finally got the stupid glass filled with ice. He turned around, ready to make his way up to you but the sight of you pushing a guy away stopped him in his tracks.

Tick

He threw the bottle along with the cup, the people surrounding him complaining as they got splashed. Sukuna made his way to you, pushing people to both side to get them out of the way. Your jaw was tightened as you backed away from the guy.

The unknown man didn’t see it coming, two hands grabbing him by the shirt and smashing him against the wall, Sukunas body and strength caging him in a dangerous position.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You yelled in the guys face.

“I–I’m sorry, I–“ The man tried to explain but his words were met with another shove, leaving his lungs without air.

Sukuna pulled out a knife he kept with himself at all times, the spade blade touching the guys neck.

“I’m going to fucking kill you for touching her.”

Whatever pathetic words he was about to plead with died in his throat as you called for Sukuna’s attention.

“Stop it.” You pulled on his shoulder.

Sukuna pressed the guys neck more, surely blocking his airways. He would’ve kept going if it wasn’t for the second pull you gave him, this time strong enough to move him. He released the man, the later collapsing to the floor.

“Let’s go.” He said as pulled you by your hand. You were about to say something when a couple of tall, well built men stopped you in your tracks. They had to be the bouncers.

“You’re going to have to go with me, kids.”

Sukuna laughed. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll beat you up in front of your girlfriend.”

He gave you a look with the corner of his eye, your eyes wide and open. At first he thought you were scared of the confrontation, he found that thought deeply offensive, as if he couldn’t take a couple of old, wasted, meatheads. But once he saw the way your lips commissure raised, he recognized the look you gave him.

You were having fun.

“Run!”

Your fingers laced with his as you pulled him forward.

Sukuna had to give it to you, when it came to running no one could beat you. Ever since you were kids it had always been a bitch to play with you. Somehow even at eight years old you had figured out how to turn into Usain Bolt, your little legs driving you too far for him to catch you.

You swerved through the sea of people, pushing some of them on your way as you tried to put as many obstacles between the men and you. Your escape was cut short by a big man jumping on your way, trying to catch you in his arms. Sukunas heart raced as he saw you almost getting caught so he smashed himself against the man, pushing both of them to the floor. You looked in shock as the chairs flew out of the way, hitting many people on their path.

“Go!” He yelled at you before standing up, pulling you with him.

You ran past the doors, jumping over the crowd control rope so you both run down the street towards Sukunas bike. Four men were now on your persuit, their footsteps heavy and slow compared to yours.

“Get back here, fuckers!” One of them yelled once you were too far away to be caught.

Both of you hopped on his bike, leaving tire smoke and stains behind as he raced through the empty streets in Tokyo.

“I can’t believe we did that!” You cheered as you held onto him.

“I forgot you turn into Usain Bolt when you run.”

You chuckled. “Shut up.”

Sukuna felt the weight of your head on his back as your arms grew tights around him. You took a deep breath, almost as if you were inhaling his scent, before liberating the air, your body relaxing against his.

“I think I’m ready to go home.”

His heart dropped down, he assumed because he could not get laid tonight, having played along you game for nothing. That must be why, he told himself. Except the back of his brain already craved your presence even if you were still next to him.

“Alright.” Was his only response.

It didn’t matter anyways, he would get his chance another day.

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[thebluestockingfirefly]

My nephew's teddy bear was saved because the babysitter put together a bag and grabbed Bear as well, which is also why he's the only one in the family who had any clothes saved at all. I made Bear for Colin out of a T-shirt that belonged to my dad, who died a decade before his grandson was born, and Colin drags him everywhere. I cannot envision the emotional trauma it would have caused him if he had lost Bear on top of everything else.

He keeps asking to see the house. He's seen pictures, but he insists he wants to go up to the house and see it. He understands it burned down, that there's nothing left, that his things are gone, that they can't go home, but he still wants to see it.

This is all that remains of their house: the chimney, the pillars from the front porch, the husks of the washer and dryer (the fire pit ironically survived largely intact, along with its chairs, though they now resemble a Dali painting). Part of the house collapsed into the basement, which is flooded by broken water pipes that can't be shut off. Virtually everything they have ever owned is gone - so many memories and heirlooms and treasured items that are impossible to ever replace.

Most of my sister's academic library, of some 3500 books, are nothing more than ash, but a few held their shape, slowly trickling away into more nothingness as the wind sweeps through.

This is one house among thousands that has been destroyed. Altadena looks like a warzone. My sister's family are all alive, but in many ways, the most important ways, they will never recover. So much lived and existed and resonated in that house - now gone forever.

The company budsies, which specializes in making custom stuffed animals and making duplicates of old or lost plushies, is currently offering to recreate the beloved stuffed animal of any kid who lost theirs in the LA wildfire, free of charge.

Their instagram post said to share this, so please spread this around so that families who've lost everything can receive just a little bit more hope in their lives 🥺

[dcxdpdabbles]

Always the bridesmaid never the bride

I'm not going to lie. I forgot if this was a prompt or a response to something I posted since I got it back before Thanksgiving. But if it's the former then:

Danny says this to Bruce at Clark and Lois' wedding. He is convinced Bruce is in love- or in lust, at the least- with Clark because the wealthy man constantly popped up at their office for important "business" and "private exclusive" interviews.

Now, Danny won't lie and say he's a better journalist than Clark or Lois- those two are the top two of the Daily Planet. There is a reason almost all Superman stories are covered by them- but he's darn good himself. After retiring from protecting his town from Ghosts, he's only ever used his powers scarcely, but they have helped him with a few articles here or there.

His career as a reporting journalist was mainly made by his ability to stumble across trouble alone! Danny had won awards for his articles. He has been included in a city time capsule project.

Danny got the scoop on Jason Todd being alive story way before everyone else. After realizing the boy was in witness protection, he hadn't even exposed it without speaking to Mr.Wayne first. The man was nothing like the tabloids had one believe. Danny found him a severely intelligent man with a deep love for his family and city. He just distracted people with his razzle and dazzle, hiding his beautiful soul in plain sight.

It had been an eye-opening conversation. The duo made a deal to wait until Jason was safe to be announced; Danny waited three whole months before he was greenlighted to release his story. Jason Todd had officially "returned" from the dead with an exclusive interview with Danny Fenton.

Danny honored and protected his dignity by writing a story that made the public love the returned young man. He hated reporters who only dragged people's names through the mud because that wasn't real investigation; that was just accepting the latest gossip on the streets.

Bruce was so grateful that Danny hadn't put his son in danger that he even gave Danny a business card that went to his home office!

And yeah, okay, Clark had Bruce's personal cellphone, but Danny just couldn't understand why the billionaire was so hung up on Clark Kent. It wasn't like the guy was Superman!

And maybe he was overly happy to find out Clark and Lois were an item. Sure that someone as good as Bruce, for all his facade of being a party boy who never grew up, would never chase a taken man. Danny had been right, too, because Bruce Wayne appeared less and less around the Daily Plant office.

It was.....sad not to see him, but Danny was a very busy journalist. He was grateful that the distraction had finally taken the hint and scurried off somewhere. What irked him in the following year and a half of Clark and Lois dating was how often Perry signed the two to cover Gotham News.

Mostly at one of Bruce Wayne's extravagant parties! Yeah, it was sort of cool that most of Bruce's parties were charity events. He had checked the numbers himself, finding that Bruce's efforts were honest and working to better his city. How many billionaires actually kept their word when wanting to be a philanthropist?

Of course, Danny had to write a piece on it. The people needed to see the positive change Bruce was making. Sometimes, it felt like people forgot how much he gave to the city. The article went viral, and people on the other side of the world were praising the good man Bruce.

Perry had given Danny a raise for it.

Clark had ruined that significant mark on his record by placing a wrap present on his desk with a wide grin. Apparently, the two had gone on a yacht trip together without Lois or Bruce's significant other. Whoever that was. "Bruce wanted me to give you this as a thanks."

Ugh, the smug asshole was just rubbing it in Danny's face that he was still friends with his ex. The present had been a shitty ship in a bottle that Danny had placed beside his writing awards in his living room. You know it would be a waste to just throw it out.

Or let it get dusty. Or not stare at and wonder if Bruce knew he liked pirate movies, so the fact he had a model replica of Captain Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl made for Danny was really no big deal.

Then Bruce came by the office after buying out the Daily Planet, giving Clark a month's vacation paid due to some "family emergency."

Danny had been worried about Ma Kent and Pa Kent- the pair had visited the Daily Planet and were the nicest people to ever walk the planet- so like the well-mannered man his mother raised, he had gone to the farm with some of his Dad's famous fudge. Only to find the Kents unaware there was an emergency in the family until Danny reminded them.

He had been a journalist long enough to call bull on their meaningful glances. Danny knew that neither Bruce nor Clark would dare cheat on Lois. They were both too good for something as sleazy as that- and honestly, Lois would kill them- but that didn't stop Bruce from obviously still carrying around a torch for Clark.

Which meant he gave him unfairly favorable treatment in the workplace. Ugh! Perry didn't even seem to care, stating that Bruce had signed their paychecks, and as long as he wasn't forcing Clark into anything harassment-worthy, Danny just had to deal with his coworkers having friends in high places.

That meant they got away with different things. He just had to suck it up and accept it.

But now, Clark and Lois tied the knot. Bruce had to back off. He would never overstep a friend's relationship like this. Danny might have seen him sneak a few glances at the dancing couple- not that he was staring at Bruce Wayne! But the man was one of the hottest topics to write about, and he never knew when a good story would pop up.

It was rather sad, really. How Bruce forced himself to come to a celebration of the man he loved marrying and choosing someone else. Danny had dedicated a drink to his heartbreak- from clear across the room.

He wasn't on a personal cellphone number basis with Bruce Wayne, let's allow a "Drink your broken heart sorrow away with me" basis. And maybe Danny had a few too many. Perhaps he lost count after realizing it was an open bar because, surprise surprise, Bruce was footing the drink bill for all guests.

Danny doesn't remember what made him think he could cross the room to Bruce or why he found the courage to point a finger in his face before slurring, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh Brucie?"

He does remember those piecing blue eyes locking him in place, brow folding in concern as Bruce replied. "Mr. Fenton, are you alright?"

"Me? Oh yeah! Just enjoying the party." He throws his arm up, spilling some of the alcohol out of the cup. He doesn't mind since the DJ starts to play one of his favorite songs, and he just has to sway to the beat. "This is a fun party. Are you having fun? I'm having fun!"

"I think you've had a little too much," Bruce says, helping Danny to his feet. When did he fall? Oh, right, when he was dancing. He laughs again, curling up on Bruce's chest. He feels it shift with the vibrations of the other man's voice. It's rather nice. "Did you come alone? Is there someone I can call for you?"

"Can I tell you a secret, Brucie?" Danny mutters, leaning forward to whisper into the man's ear before he can respond. "I live alone. I have no one to take care of me. I can't even drive."

"I see. I can have my driver take you home then. Can I see your wallet? I want to read the address-"

Danny has a second to think Oh no before his stomach lurches, and vomit falls out of his mouth all over Bruce Wayne's fancy suit that probably costs more than his house. Danny's eyes water. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't usually drink, and I feel terrible, and I-"

"It's alright. " Bruce says, smile still perfectly kind, understanding, and slightly dizzy. Danny knows he's lying, though- his reporter eyes can see right through that facade. He's pissed that Danny threw up on him. Understandably.

He starts sobbing, apologizing even more, and pointing out how he knows Bruce is actually upset.

Bruce looks mildly surprised before throwing one of his arms over his shoulder and helping him out of the hotel ballroom. The reception had started hours ago, and despite it not being anywhere near over, no one would bat an eye at them leaving early.

They were walking down the hallway. Danny found himself leaning on a counter, laughing into his hands about a potted plant, while Bruce chatted up the lady at a computer. He told the pair that Bruce should rebound with a man instead of a woman if he wanted to get over Clark but was ignored by them.

Rude.

Then suddenly, Danny was being pressed into a soft mattress on his back while someone was taking off his shoes and losing his tie. When did he get home? How had he moved that quickly?

This didn't feel like his pillow. Danny has a special one. He can't sleep with it. He packs his pillow when he travels, even if it's just one night he plans to stay. Danny has used the same pillow for years now.

"I'm sorry, I can't get your special pillow, but I can give you lots of water." A man says, making Danny blink and open his eyes. His eyelids feel so heavy that it takes him a moment to stay open.

Above him, Bruce is carefully unbuttoning his suit jacket. The billionaire had removed his own coat, but the vomit-covered white shirt remains. Danny feels ashamed at the sight even as Bruce pulls his arms out of the jacket sleeves.

"Sorry," He whimpers. "About the vomit."

"It's alright. You needed to throw up. Do you feel better?"

Danny nods, closing his eyes and feeling a warm towel run along his face. He sighed as the sticky, gross feeling around his mouth was gone, and he sank further into the Not Right But Comfty pillow.

"Sleep well, Mr. Fenton," Bruce says, tucking the blankets around Danny once he finishes cleaning him up. Danny hums, already half gone, when he whispers.

"You're a good man. No matter what you present to the world. No matter if you believe you're not, I know you're good."

There is a moment of silence before Bruce replies. "I paid for the hotel room. It comes with a free breakfast, so when you're feeling up to it, come down for food tomorrow. Have a good night, Mr. Fenton."

"Stay?"

"I'm sorry. I never intended to stay; I just wanted to get you somewhere safe. Going home in your state would have been a bad idea."

Danny's words are nearly too slurried to be understood as he slowly slips away: "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, Fenton. Bruce would never want you."

He wakes up with a killer hangover, confused about where the hell he is, and almost has a heart attack when he realizes he crumpled up the suit pants he rented. All that is so hard to process in thirty seconds that he nearly missed the written note on the nightstand.

Call me xxx-xxx-xxxx

XOXO

Bruce Wayne

What in the world happened at Clark's and Lois's wedding!?

[fear-is-truth]

❝ WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT’S LESS DANGEROUS ❞

warnings — murder mention. s2 spoilers. suggestive pairing — nam-gyu x f!reader word count — 745 a/n — english is not my first language sorry

THE DORMITORY IS UNNERVINGLY QUIET TONIGHT, just the occasional cough or the faint rustle of shifting blankets break the stillness, but even those small sounds seem out of place. the events of the night before hang like a disaster on a frayed piano string, threatening to snap at any second. bodies are still sore, bruised, and battered from the chaos that erupted when the lights went out—violence erupting in the pitch black, leaving a trail of terror in its wake. the air reeks faintly of sweat and fear, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that had dried into dark brown stains on the floor.

the thanos team is completely disbanded, not that you cared, anyway. you didn’t much like the rapper anyway, but his death felt like a strange relief—a violent severing of a bond you never wanted in the first place. se-mi, though. your chest tightens at the thought of her. se-mi didn’t deserve what happened to her. you don’t even know how she died—no one does.

now it’s just you, min-su, and that asshole nam-gyu.

min-su doesn’t say much these days. he sticks close but keeps his distance at the same time, like he’s not sure if you’re allies or just temporary survivors sharing the same sinking ship. nam-gyu, though, you don’t trust that prick.

you’ve learned to sleep lightly, one ear always tuned to the sounds of the room. and tonight, something feels… off. the faintest sound of movement makes you jolt awake, fingers instinctively curling around the shard of glass tucked in your sleeve.

“relax.” even without seeing him, you know it’s nam-gyu. the last person you want to deal with in the near darkness. “what are you doing?” you whisper harshly, fear twisting into irritation as his silhouette moves closer. he doesn’t answer, just shoves your legs aside like he has every right to be there. the audacity of this man.

“move.”

“get off,” you shove at his shoulder, but it’s like trying to push a wall. he wedges himself onto your narrow bunk, his body pressing flush against yours.

“someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“not after what you did last night,” his arm bumps into your ribs as he makes himself more comfortable. “you’re better at playing dirty than i thought.” you bristle at the words. from anyone else, it might sound like begrudging respect, but from nam-gyu, it feels like a thinly veiled insult. after all, you were just trying to make it out alive.

“then keep an eye on me from your own bed.”

“what bed?” he snaps. you realise belatedly that his mattress must’ve been stolen during the free-for-all. you open your mouth to argue further, but nam-gyu suddenly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down against the mattress with him.

“shut up,” he hisses, breath warm against your cheek. “you think i trust you after everything? you’re lucky i’m still on your side, or you’d already be dead.”

the shard of glass digs into your palm, and you loosen your grip, debating whether to stay still or stab him. the latter is very tempting. a chill runs through you, but it isn’t fear. not entirely. his grip on you is unyielding, almost desperate, as if holding onto you because he doesn’t know what else to do with thanos gone.

“this isn’t necessary.”

“stop moving,” he hisses. you shift again, uncomfortable because there’s something hard pressed against your lower back. “unless you want to wake everyone up. trust me, they’ll have a field day when they see us all cuddled up.”

“this isn’t cuddling. it’s you being a creep.”

“call it what you want, just quit squirming for god’s sake.” he grouses, “you’ll just make it worse.” nam-gyu moves again, adjusting himself discreetly.

“make what worse?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, but the second they do, you freeze.

then it dawns on you.

oh.

heat rushes to your face, mortified as the realisation settles in. you freeze, hyperaware of every inch of him against you—the solid weight of his chest, the curve of his thigh pressed to yours, and now… the unmistakable press of his hardened cock slotted firmly against your ass. nam-gyu clears his throat awkwardly.

“just go to sleep.” the edge in his tone is softened by exhaustion, one that mirrors your own. “we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[secret-moonstruck]

WAKE ME UP | ENHYPEN

— Pairing: enhypen x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: You decide to wake them up in a special way.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: oral sex, praising, making out, begging, cum eating.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

Heeseung: It hadn't been long since you had gone to sleep when you woke up feeling Heeseung hard against you, for a moment you were surprised, then you remembered one of his fantasies so you couldn't help but smile.

Carefully not to wake him you turned to face him, then started pumping his member but then a better idea came into your mind when you heard him moan. Turning on top of him, mounting him, rubbing against his erection, you were startled when suddenly his hands grabbed your waist tightly and your body was thrown against the bed. Not long after, you were already a mess of moans and tears as he fiercely pushed himself inside you.

Jake: You heard that Jake went to practice earlier than the others so you decided to surprise him. But when you entered the room you saw him sleeping, he was so tired that instead of practicing he ended up sleeping while watching the choreography video. You decided to give him a gift to cheer him up. Sitting next to him you ran your hands down his body until you reached his pants, touching him slowly with gentle movements, feeling him get excited you moved closer to kiss his lips, he woke up confused, but soon let out a moan when he felt your hands.

- Please continue Y/N. - He said, laying his head back on the sofa. 

His hand now directly pumping his exposed member, bending over him using his mouth to finish the job, which didn't take long.

He was very happy with his gift, when the members arrived they were surprised that he was so excited and willing to rehearse.

Jay: It was quiet on the plane, everyone was asleep, but you were bored. As you watched Jay something popped into your mind. With a smile you slid your hand under the blanket that was on his lap, sneaking into his pants and boxers, before long he was already hard under your touches, but your little play didn't last long, soon you felt a tightness around you wrist, when he looked at your eyes, a shiver run through your body.. You rarely saw him with that expression, and when you did, you knew you were in trouble. 

- Again being dirty in public, you know very well what happens when you do that, don't you?

And yes you knew it, he would punish you until he made you cry. Your legs shook in anticipation as he dragged her to the back of the plane. Before being pushed into the bathroom you saw the flight attendant's irritated look, but you didn't have time to feel embarrassed. 

Sunghoon: You were going to spend the day together, so you went to the dorm early but he was still sleeping.

When you entered his room a smile appeared on your face, he was sleeping so fully that you felt a little guilty for the thought that invaded your mind, but he himself said he found it interesting, why not?

Silently you sat on the bed next to him, your hands sliding under the cover until you reached him, slowly you began to caress him, it didn't take long for him to be extremely hard in your hands, as he moaned in his sleep. You watched as his eyes slowly opened, how his shocked expression was soon replaced by a dirty smile.

- A good way to wake up. - He said pulling her for a kiss.

The way he seemed more wild and aggressive made you realize that you were going to pay dearly for your little joke.

Sunoo: When you woke up and heard a low moan you ignored it, but when you heard it again but this time your name you froze. 

When you turned around you saw your boyfriend still sleeping, his expression tense, then you heard another groan. Then a smile appeared on your face… was that perverted little boy having a dirty dream about you? As soon as the thought arose you were already under the covers, with him in your mouth, moans coming from him more frequently, even in his dream he moved wanting more, soon you felt him tense up and noticed that he was waking up. You looked at him as he removed the covers in surprise.

- Y/N...what are you...? - He tried to speak but instead another moan left his lips. 

It didn't take long for him to come in you mouth.

- Um… Thank you for breakfast. - You said after swallowing everything. His expression was priceless, but also dangerous.

Jungwon: The movie was halfway through when you noticed that Jungwon was sleeping, he insisted on watching and fell asleep, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. When you remembered him saying something about being woken up in a special way, you thought it might be a good way to get your “revenge”.

To confirm that he was sleeping you slowly began to touch him over his sweatpants, while massaging his member you smiled as he became hard under your touch, when you heard him moan you pulled his pants along with his boxers showing off his erection.

Your tongue running along his length, when you licked the tip you felt a hand on your head.

- Really a bitch. You didn't even wait for me to wake up.. - Before pushing himself into her mouth

Niki: You were on a trip to the beach with your friends. Apart from Jay who was driving everyone had slept. Your hands were intertwined with Niki's under a blanket you always took with you on trips. As he slept he ended up pulling his hand further up into his lap, a light went on in his head. Releasing his hand you began to slowly massage him still over his pants, you felt him getting excited and continued touching him, a moan left his lips and you froze when Heeseung who was on the bench in front of you looked back. You pretended to be distracted looking away, he ignored you and turned back.

Not long after, he let out another moan but this time louder, this time everyone turned to you, at the exact moment he woke up and groaned again. Pulling back your hand you wanted to disappear in embarrassment while they complained about you being dirty.

— Note2: Sorry if it's not good, I'll try to improve it.

[quarterlifekitty]

okok i havr a req for ljke a blurb and its kinda angsty but not really. can you maybe do like a reader asks the guys if they want kids and they react negitvly....but readers already pregant.....

You shrink a little next to Simon. He notices, but doesn’t prod. He never does. He waits for you to build up the courage, for your boldness to well up and spill over in a rare moment.

“Simon, do you ever think about having kids?”

It wasn’t a question he’d counted on coming from you for at least another few months, but he knew it was just a matter of time. Birds always ask about this kinda shite.

“Men like me ain’t fit to be fathers. Blood’s no good. Thing’d probably turn out just as rotten as me.” It’s not the most tactful answer, he knows. But he wants the topic left in no uncertain terms. Hope sours into resentment faster than wet strawberries mold in the fridge. A distant, self flagellating part of him wondered when he’d be forced to pick over the hallowed carcass of this relationship, try to salvage a few splintering bones and move on. 

You suck in a quick lungful of breath, expertly willing the tears to stay in their warm ducts. You’d done it a thousand times before you’d met Simon, and you’d probably do it a hundred thousand times more after he left you.

You’d met his captain, John Price, a handful of times. Spoken to him privately only once, in warning.

“Simon is a good man. One of the best. But I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to really give himself to someone else. He’s been through… more than most.”

You’d told yourself and him that that was fine. That you’d be happy with whatever small piece of him you could manage to get away with. That was before you realized how little of yourself you had to begin with. And suddenly he had all of it. What did that leave you with?

A pregnancy test double wrapped in paper towels before it’s thrown in the kitchen trash, as it happens. You’d heard once that people who believed they were in possession of haunted photographs would stuff them in layers of envelopes and wrap them in twine, which did nothing but help them feel better.

And as if he could smell the acrid blood brewing in the parasite inside you, Simon leaves soon after. What little he’d brought into your home is gone one day, wordlessly. You know him well enough to realize that if he wants to disappear, he will, and trying to chase him would be tantamount to falling into a grain silo– agonizing and tragic in a way that grants no closure.

You were by no means in a position to be a single mother. But you couldn’t bring yourself to give up the one piece of Simon you’d managed to keep.

[kisses4themissus]

Private Eye || Hwang In-Ho x Reader

wc : 2.6k a/n : and the crowd is...not surprised that Its gonna be a series.. !! warning; not proof-read so possible misspelling ahead !!

masterlist

Beep Beep Beep.

You groaned as your alarm went off, without looking you had stopped the annoying alarm; Your boyfriend also stirring at the sound. “You have to leave already?” He sighed turning to lay on his back, wiping sleep from his eyes. You smiled at him and sleepily nodded. “Duty calls..” You sighed, swing your legs that touched the cold floor.

As you went to stand a warm embrace wrapped around you. 

“Jun-ho, i need to get up!” You chuckled, rubbing his hands that rested on your waist. “Meet me for lunch?” He asked, smiling up at you.

A moment passed, “Ok, but just this time!” You teasingly pointed your finger at him. Jun-ho nodded and released you from his grasp.

Once freed you had ran to the connected bathroom to get ready for the day. It had been a few months since you’d been anonymously hired to watch, seong gi-hun a fifty one year old man; he had gone from being severely in debt to having billions of dollars in his account. You had grown tired of the case, he had rarely left a motel he had bought out.

You groaned internally, it’d be another day of sitting in an alleyway that had a good view of the motel. Occasionally getting to an abandoned building, watching as he’d park on the roof and sit their for the day; at first you thought he was contemplating killing himself but after a few visits you grew used to his routine. 

As you passed through the kitchen to grab your coffee, jun-ho handed you a small paper bag, he handed it over with a small smile. “Breakfast for you!” 

You leaned closer and kissed his cheeks before kissing his lips. “Thank you, honey!” You both smiled into your kiss, not wanting to leave you parted away first, chuckling as he leaned forward as you parted. “I’ll see you for lunch.” You said, holding two fingers to his lips before grabbing you coffee and breakfast and ran to your car.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It had been months of the same routine, you had watched as gi-hun looked over his several tablets and phones he had in his car.

You quickly grabbed your camera as he answered a phone call, his eyes widened at whatever the other person had said, he quickly started up his car and backed out of the roof and began to drive off.

You raised your eyebrows at his action, you quickly placed your camera down and began to follow behind him

You had kept yourself from pushing the gas, slowing down as he got pulled over. You cursed as you recognized one of the traffic cops; You had been told to keep quiet about the case, you had been lucky enough for jun-ho to understand since he was a detective and tried his best to keep you away from his own work back then.

Once back on the road, you followed behind as he parked his car in front of a shady alleyway. You groaned as you parked further away and got out, camera in hand. Before walking to the alley, you pulled out a tracker from your jacket and stuck it on gi-hun’s car.

You watched from the shadows as gi-hun looked frantically around the alleyway, you pulled out your camera and began snapping photos, you had froze as you noticed a man on top of a building, staring down at gi-hun with a smirk, had there been another P.I working on gi-hun’s case?

You quickly snapped a photo of him before hiding away further as gi-hun ran back to his car.

The other man walked away, back into the building, once you knew it was clear you walked further and began to take photos, there had been blood splatter all over. As you went to leave, you stumbled.

You looked down at your foot and tiled your head at the small brown card, it had three different shapes on the front. You turned it over to see a number, with a confused mindset you tucked it away into your pocket and walked to your car to follow gi-hun again, what was he really involved with…

You had gotten back to the motel before gi-hun. You watched and took photos as the man from before walked into the motel and turned on the sign’s light. You slouched into your seat, waiting for the next movement.

As you waited, the rain fell on top of the car, it had soothed you, unlike the events you had encountered earlier. As you sat in your car you quickly pulled out the brown card from earlier and picked up your phone to call it, you quickly began recording the call.

As you dialed the number, it clicked, someone had picked up. “Hello, who’s calling?” A stern voice answered. “I was given this card earlier today.” You lied, the other person shifted. “Do you wish to participate in the games?” They asked, you furrowed your brows. “Yes.” You shifted in your seat.

“Name and birthday.” They requested.

You gave them your information and waited. He gave you a location to be picked up, it’d be on halloween night, you nodded to yourself, now trying to find an excuse to tell jun-ho. “Thank you.” You hung up and sighed shakily. You perked up as gi-hun walked back into the motel.

An hour had gone by, you had left, there had been no activity.

Once you had gotten home, you paced around your living room; trying to think of things to tell jun-ho. It had been a surprise once you walked through the doors to see he hadn’t gotten home yet. Luckily it was the weekend tomorrow, the employer had given you the weekends off from gi-hun’s case, which you were lucky to have.

You had gotten ready for bed, the cool covers over your body. You had managed to dose off but was woken up when jun-ho had gotten into the bed. You turned over and stared at your boyfriend. “Busy day?” You questioned, making jun-ho tiredly laugh and nodded. “Me too.” You smiled and snuggled into his arms.

As he began to rub your arm in comfort he sighed, looking at the ceiling of the room. “Tomorrow we’re going to the memorial site then my mom asked if we could go over for dinner..” He hesitated, you knew his half brother’s family and himself in general was a harsh subject.

“I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” You reassured, smiling tiredly at him.

The next day you both had strolled through the memorial site, other families bringing gifts, you held a small bouquet of flowers for jun-ho’s sister in law’s grave. You tuned out what his mom had been saying as you walked to the wall.

You sighed as jun-ho walked ahead and hung up with his mother, he grabbed a photo and painfully sighed. You carefully approached, noticing the very wilted flowers, you quickly switched it out for the new ones you both a had bought. You both stayed silent, stopping to give your respects to her. 

You looked to the side and smiled sadly at all the graves without flowers, jun-ho bit his lip as he placed the photo of in-ho and his ex-wife back on the wall.

Jun-ho cleared his throat and turned to you, reaching out his hand. You gave him a soft smile and took it as you both walked back to the car.

“She’s very pretty!” You exclaimed as you both got in. “She’s was very kindhearted too.” Jun-ho smiled, thinking about his sister-in-law. As you both got in the car and began to drive to the store, your happy mood was brought down as your phone buzzed. You pulled it out from your bag, your smile had dropped as you read the text.

“I need the update on seong gi-hun by tonight.” 

You scoffed, jun-ho turned to you concerned, holding two fruit trays in his hands. “No to the pears?” He questioned, chuckling softly. You sighed and shook your head. “I have to skip out on dinner with your mother, the new employer wants an update tonight.” You explained.

“It’s alright, my mom will understand, you work very hard!” He reassured, placing one of the fruit into the small basket. “Thank you.” You smiled at him before leading him down the snack aisle.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You groaned as you send another file to a strange unknown email. It had been all the updates from the past month. Tired you walked to your closet to change into your pajamas.

As you moved through your closet you accidentally knocked down a box of things jun-ho kept on his side. You groaned and knelt down to pick up the small knick knacks and stray photos. You stopped at one, it had been jun-ho when he was younger with a bit older guy, you turned the photo around, looking for a date.

Jun-ho’s highschool graduation, you stopped as you furrowed your brows at the photo, who was the other man then? His half brother? You and jun-ho had begun dating after your college program had ended, you had never met his brother but alway heard of his mother’s guilt. As you stared at the picture, the sound of the door opening made you jump, quickly swiping everything into the box and back on the top shelf of the closet.

“How was dinner?” You questioned, walking out of the closet to see jun-ho taking off his jacket. “It was alright, she sent leftovers for you…” He said, distracted. You sighed walking over to him. “The anniversary gotten to her?” You questioned, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Jun-ho nodded sadly, tossing his jacket on the bed. 

“She feels guilty for no reason, he choose to leave..” Jun-ho ranted, you nodded at his words, letting him get it out. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

In-ho sighed as he took off his mask, it had been rough preparing for the upcoming games, it didn’t help gi-hun was trying to worm back, his own brother was now attempting to find the island. 

He sighed, pouring himself whiskey before opening a burner email he had created for the private investigator he had hired to keep watch on gi-hun. He drank as he went through photo after photo, it had been the same routine, til he saw a photo of the recruiter, in-ho stopped and looked once more at the photos.

Gi-hun was getting too close for comfort again.

You sighed as you watched jun-ho collect his things, he said he had begin to investigate the islands where he has washed up on once again and had now even more info thanks to someone else.

You chuckled as he sighed to himself before walking over to you. “How long will you be gone?” He questioned, sitting down beside you on the bed, “Don’t know…” You shrugged sadly; you had come up with the excuse you had been requested to go to another country to investigate someone badly.

“I’ll miss you!” Jun-ho leaned in and kissed you tenderly on your lips, you smiled into the kiss. “I’ll miss you too..” You both pulled away, looking into each others eyes lovingly. “I actually got you a gift!” Jun-ho smiled and popped up and walked to the dresser and pulled out a small velvet box.

“For me?” You questioned, smiling as he placed it in your palm. “For you to have a piece of me with you.” he explained, you smiled at his words and opened to see a heart shaped necklace. With a gasp you jumped up and hugged your boyfriend, smothering him with kisses. “Thank you, this is so beautiful!” You squealed, taking it out of the box.

“I’ll put it on you..” Jun-ho took the necklace and moved your hair to the side as he clasped the necklace. You smiled as the heart sat perfectly. “You’re the perfect boyfriend!” You smiled and brought him into another kiss, you both pulled away after you had begun to loose oxygen.

“Alright now go see your evidence!” You smiled as jun-ho nodded and kissed you bye once more before leaving the apartment. 

You sighed and stood up from the bed, you looked around, you had cleaned everything up. You were ready to see what gi-hun had gotten himself into with that man.

You nervously looked at your phone again, you’re pick up was at twelve, it quickly approached hte time and you hadn’t seen any sign of a car.

As you went to walk back to your complex, the sound of brakes came from behind you, slowly turning you saw a van, the window rolled down to see someone in a pink suit with a circle on their mask; you brushed it off and assumed it was a costume.

“Ms y/l/n?” You nodded, the back door opened itself. You quickly got in and looked around to see other people fast asleep in their chairs.

As the car began to move you heard a soft hiss and gaz filled the car, it had smelt of lavender; you moved your head back as you got lulled to a soft deep sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Classical music filled your ears as you woke up to see bunks all around you. 

With wide eyes you got up and looked around, your clothes had been changed too; you wore a green tracksuit with a numbers over the right side and the shirt; player 455.

You stopped looking around as you spotted gi-hun getting up from his own bunk. A loud buzz came from the center of the room. You looked over and saw more pink suited people walk out. You quickly follow gi-hun and listened as the pink suits explained everything and answer some questions from people.

As you all lined up to sign the contact you stopped, the strange man, the money gi-hun randomly earned. You quickly searched for him in the crowd and walked over to the line he stood in. You watched as he signed his name. Once you walked up, you quickly filled out the form before running to where gi-hun began walking through all the confusing stairs.

You kept your eye on his as you all passed through the photos and were led to an open field, a weird animatronic doll sat on the other end of the field. The first game was announced to be red light, green light.

You watched gi-hun with furrowed brows as he told you all explained what to do. Most had brushed it off as him being paranoid or high off drugs. You could see the fear in his eyes as he spotted the animatronic. You listened to his instructions. You closed your eyes as gunshots rang out around you.

Once you opened your eyes, you quickly moved behind player 230. Your eyes widened as the doll turned once more and he pushed the players in front of him. Once clear you stood up and followed him.

“Who’s shuffling behind me like a rat?” He grumbled out, you quickly grabbed the back of his jacket collar with a tight grasp. “A rat.” You smiled; once in the clear you used your strength and threw him to th ground and ran ahead.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In-ho quietly sipped on his whiskey as he watched players drop dead. He sighed, growing bored of the same reaction, he stopped sipping as a familiar looking player held thanos by his collar. 

He quickly, leaned over to his side table and went through the player files. He stopped as he found player 455; Y/n Y/l/n. The name had looked familiar. He walked over to the latest photos he had gotten of his family, he shuffled through them and finally stopped at one, jun-ho and his girlfriend at a friend’s party, both hangoff each other smiling.

Jun-ho’s girlfriend.

hwang in-ho taglist: @snowtargaryen @menabuser16 @azusdump @jspidey5 @annasnape7 @macnbriee @ookybatt @sasha-swftie @moonxnite

[emmg]

There exists a certain breed of people, Emmrich Volkarin has observed, who live in the excesses of their own making, and he has always known himself to be one of them. In all things, but especially in the amorous, his nature unfurls in grandiosity. He has often assured himself that this is a mark of distinction. They blush, all of them, do they not? Their eyes dart sideways, their mouths falter into embarrassed gratitude: Thank you, Emmrich, thank you, truly, you shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.

It makes no difference whether it is the routine bonds of years or the fleeting conspiracies of a night’s darkness; his approach is unvarying. Coffee will await them in the morning, placed just so, beside a carefully curated tray of toiletries reserved for such occasions. He will inquire, solicitous as ever: Do you have somewhere to be? Something you need? Someone you need? The questions perch delicately on the lip of a deeper one: Is it me you need? More of me, perhaps? A carriage, at least, if not my company?

It was Johanna, before she was finally exiled from the Watch, who delivered the line that needled its way into him. 

"Four decades and counting, Volkarin, and still you rattle around alone. Ever wonder if it's because you drown people in your godsdamned devotion until they can’t find air to breathe? Pah.”

At first, he dismissed it with a smile slanted into a grimace, chalking it up to the jagged edge of her temper. Pah, he repeated with sardonic flourish, tossing the sound to the ceiling as if it were a paper ball aimed at a wastebasket. Pah, he said again later, softer, practicing the shape of her disdain in the privacy of his reflection.

He stands in the Lighthouse, his thoughts drifting back to that exchange from years ago. She knows nothing. Johanna, with her clipped words and sharpened angles, has no use for sentimentality, no patience for sweetness. And yet, she is content in her clean, unaffectionate way, while he—ah, he hovers just shy of it, circling its edges. Almost there. Soon, he promises himself, the elusive shape of it will solidify. Soon. 

How else does one fasten themselves to others when born not merely from nothing, but from no one? A life without roots, without the parental gaze threading affection through the years, without the cushioning sprawl of family. You weave your own sentimentality from the tatters left behind, Emmrich tells himself. You make it elaborate, ornate, and irresistible. You do not ensnare—no, the word feels like a tooth snagging on cloth. He has no traps, no cages. He is not predatory but prodigal, spilling over with the weight of his own unstirred affection. A maximalist, yes. 

What he wishes to show them, these transient silhouettes in the gallery of his life, is the sheer abundance of what he carries. Of what they lost by not choosing him. The unspent wealth of tenderness, the meticulous reservoirs he has cultivated for lack of recipients. It can all be theirs, whoever they are. Wouldn’t they understand their fortune, their rare chance to bask in the radiance of such unfettered devotion? Surely they would. Surely.

At thirty-five, his entanglement with the Orlesian art appraiser unraveled, not with drama but with a certain muted inevitability, as though it had been sketched lightly in chalk on a damp morning and then, suddenly, rained over, erased. He tells himself it could not have lasted; she collected men as she might collect unfinished canvases, drawn to their rough edges and faint promise. But once they hardened into something distinct, something complete, she set them aside, indifferent to the final form. 

Emmrich, oh Emmrich, he hears her voice in his memory, though he wonders now if it was her voice at all or merely the soft inflection of her glance, the way her eyes curved away from him like hands withdrawing from a clasp. She had no fondness for gold; it was a color she found gaudy, oppressive, a vulgar punctuation on life's subtler compositions. Her fingers, long and bare, were her own; she had no need of his ring, no desire for the weight of it, least of all on that finger.

Years earlier, there was a boy, a student, like himself, with hair so very dark. They had bumped foreheads in the flickering veilfire, the absurd aftermath of Emmrich’s clumsy attempt to impress: a corpse laid open, its anatomy splayed for inspection, until a wayward wisp animated the flesh, sending them both lurching back, half-startled, half-laughing. It was a frantic affair, feverish and brief, as if passion itself had been distilled into those stolen weeks. He could have loved him endlessly, he thinks, could have folded himself into that golden rhythm forever. Even now, on certain nights, he fancies he can taste him, something like salt, something like cheap liquor. 

The boy had left for Minrathous, his parting words wrapped in a promise to write. And he had, at first—letters arriving as steady and sure as a ticking clock, their edges faintly scented with ink and faraway rain. But the rhythm faltered; the clockwork slowed. The letters grew fewer, their voice dimmer, until one day the flow ceased entirely, leaving only silence and the faint echo of a promise gone pale with distance. 

He loved Johanna too, he reflects, with a savage intensity that left the others pale by comparison, though Johanna, predictably, never returned it. Johanna loved her mind and the delicious friction of transgression. You can fuck me while I finish this paper, Volkarin, she had remarked once, without so much as a glance in his direction, her pen scratching insistently at the page.

He remembers the evening with an ache sharpened by detail: the roses, their petals faintly bruised as if blushing at his ineptitude; the wine, swirling darkly in glasses he had scrubbed to a nervous shine; the small box of Orlesian caramels, her favorite, held out with the tentative pride of a schoolboy offering his first essay to an indifferent master. 

He was no one of consequence then, no lauded scholar or dazzling wit, just a young man scraping together gestures from borrowed elegance. And yet, he had tried—oh, how he had tried—pouring his entire being into that fragile theater of romance, as though effort alone might compel the world to forego its indifference. 

The years folded and refolded themselves, their seams disappearing until time became a single, unbroken surface. His voice grew sleek, his purse heavier, his tailoring sharper. He became a presence, one that others noticed. Students watched him with eyes that lingered a beat too long; the occasional noble leaned in, fascinated by his murmurs over the dead, or else drawn by the possibility of extracting something—knowledge, power, perhaps only amusement. 

Take Professor Volkarin’s class, the students murmured, their voices hushed, their smiles sly. He’s quite something to look at, isn’t he?

You are a connoisseur, are you not? the aristocrats would murmur, their words oiled with flattery, their smiles faintly predatory, the question ever a jeweled trap.

Why complicate things? colleagues would say with an air of weary sophistication, their proposals veiled in the thin gauze of propriety. A little diversion never hurt anyone.

Sometimes he allowed himself to be drawn in, sometimes not. These entanglements stretched in strange patterns—weeks collapsing into years, years vanishing into the quiet close of nothing. On certain occasions, he felt the weight of the moment tipping toward something lasting. His lips would part, shaping the beginnings of a plea: stay longer, stay forever. But before the words could leave him, they would pull away, the decision already made, their departure as effortless and inevitable as a candle guttering out in a draft.

At fifty, the lashes ceased to flutter. The students' lingering glances turned polite, their gazes moving past him as if he were part of the room's architecture. The brief romances grew briefer still, coming apart before they could be knotted into anything of substance. No one explained; no one ever said why. But he understood. It was the five, that inevitable syllable that had slipped into his age, heavy and uncompromising, like a note of finality struck too soon.

Once a man stepped into his fifth decade, what could he offer? A handful of years, perhaps, before the decline—before he became a relic of himself. His hair, silver since his youth, could not have been the culprit; its pale sheen had always been mistaken for distinction. No, it was the five, the fatal number, that had crept into his chronology and settled there like an uninvited guest.

Let’s stay together, let’s marry, let’s have children, let’s take them to my parents’ graves someday—this was the whispered litany he carried, a fragile incantation he longed to speak aloud. Sometimes, the words escaped him, offered tentatively to the ears of a lover. Other times, they remained locked within, the moment never ripening enough to bear their weight. With some, he dared to dream aloud; with others, the silence grew louder than the words could ever hope to be.

At fifty-two, improbably, he finds himself among this mismatched, maddening, and strangely endearing group intent on bringing low the gods of old. He rolls his eyes so often that he’s begun to wonder if one day they might stick, leaving him a statue of perpetual disdain. Neve cuts through his facades effortlessly, coaxing from him scraps of childhood he’d long since buried. With Lucanis, every conversation is a duel, the man’s pointed questions prodding at the fragile edges of his carefully constructed dreams of lichdom—questions that dredge up doubt, irritating as a grain of sand lodged beneath the skin. 

Taash grates on him in ways he cannot fully articulate. The endless talk of dragons is a torment he would gladly forego, and yet it is Taash who catches him when an Antaam reaver’s blow leaves him seeing constellations. In Davrin, he glimpses something familiar, an echo of his love for Manfred, and in that recognition, he feels the strange solace of being known. 

Harding is a different matter altogether, her culinary atrocities sparking in him an inexplicable desire to craft a sandwich of such undeniable perfection that it would silence her objections. He imagines her chewing begrudgingly, a reluctant admission forming at the corners of her mouth: yes, cheese on toast is a sandwich.

And then there is Bellara. Bellara, who speaks in a ceaseless cascade of words, her chatter so relentless it should unnerve him. But it doesn’t. He listens and finds himself oddly soothed, her voice filling the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty. 

Rook—yes, Rook. He loves her, loves her with a rawness that feels almost indecent, as though his affection itself were an intrusion. Rook, younger by an expanse of years that feels cruelly conspicuous. Rook, who should belong to someone whose hair has not yet been kissed by silver, whose steps have not yet grown measured by the weight of decades. Rook, whose every second sentence is punctuated with fuck or shit or a biting go kill yourself.

Rook, who comes from Rivain but not truly, her roots stretching from an alienage, a world far from his own. She can read, but poorly, and dismisses it whenever possible. She once made it clear that books belonged to the lives of others, those who grew up with scholars. 

Yet, beneath her defiance, there are moments of vulnerability. Once, she brings him a Venatori missive, the text dense and convoluted, and quietly asks him to read it for her. Her usual boldness has been tempered by something smaller, almost shy; a reluctance to expose what she lacks but a willingness to trust him with it. 

Rook, so utterly unlike anyone he has ever loved, so far from the world of symposiums and necromantic subtleties where he has always thought his affections must dwell. The languages of hypotheses and sciences are foreign to her. But she teaches him other things instead: the delicate art of unlocking what refuses to yield, the precise tension of a pick against the hidden tumblers, the silence required to hear a mechanism surrender. 

Impossibly, unstoppably, he loves her—a love without reason, as if reason had never existed at all. 

Sometimes the tears threaten, and sometimes they come. Not in torrents or grandiose sobs, but as a quiet dampening of his eyes, just enough to blur his vision as he presses his hands against his face in the solitude of night. He is happy—fantastically, achingly happy—because he loves her with a fervor that feels miraculous, and, impossibly, she loves him too. But the clock is cruel. There is no time. There will never be enough time. 

He will die before her—this much he knows—if he chooses to die at all. And when he is gone, she will mourn him, briefly but with a scorching intensity, before moving forward, as the living must. She will find another, someone new to hold, to share her days and her nights. It coils in him, sick and green, this jealousy so sharp it feels like a betrayal of his love for her. He wants her happiness, he tells himself—her boundless, effortless happiness—even if it must come without him. 

And yet, the thought of her in another’s arms, her life spilling into someone else’s—after all these years of waiting, of searching for someone who might stay—it is a wound he cannot quite close. But still, she must be happy. She must. 

Pah, Johanna once said. Yes. Pah.

Rook, who calls him pretty with a disarming frankness, who tilts her head and declares he is too tall, then adds, almost as an afterthought, that she likes his eyes, his hair, his hands. Rook, who raises a defiant middle finger to a merchant scheming to cheat him. Rook, who leads him to Rivain—hers but not hers, a place of half-belonging—and asks, with a sudden softness, if he would like to taste the sea salt in the air with her. 

Rook, Rook, Rook, who calls him her first even as he rasps assurances that he can wait, that he is content to wait. Rook, who bleeds and winces, who admits, without pretense, that it is not nice—not yet—but insists that it will be, if only he’ll press on, again and again, until the awkwardness burns away and something else remains. And then, in time, it does. The lessons, stumbling as they are, yield their strange harvest. 

"Fuck me," she says, sliding onto his lap, the words abrupt and unadorned.

He frowns, as he always does. Not with anger but with a pained, almost mournful reproach, murmuring, "Must you be so crass, my darling?" And then, as if to erase the jaggedness of her demand, he makes love to her instead. 

He loves her with a sincerity so overwhelming it spills into the small rituals of their mornings, saturating every moment. He murmurs it into the curve of her shoulder, stirs it into the coffee he sets gently by her bedside, whispers it to her in the gray light before dawn when she is too drowsy to do more than hum faintly in response, a muffled acknowledgment that feels like the echo of a dream. 

I love you, I love you, I love you, the words repeat themselves in his mind, circling endlessly. He imagines writing them out for her, not once but a hundred times, in the looping grace of Nevarran cursive, and then teaching her to read the script with infinite patience, her fingers tracing the lines as he watches.

One morning, he brings her a bundle of new clothes, tea fragrant and warm, and fresh bandages to replace the ones that had grown stiff with her blood during the night. 

She looks at him and says, “You don’t need to do anything for me, Emmrich.” 

“It is a want, not a must,” he replies softly, and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

“Oh, thank you,” she says after a pause. “I love you.” 

What he truly wants to say he cannot properly construct: please, please, please, don’t go back to the dragon’s hoard. He would bury her in gold himself, pile it at her feet until there was no need for her to seek out treasure elsewhere. Please, please, please, he thinks, come back to Nevarra with me. Let me love you there, in my house, in my world, away from dragons, from gods, from locks waiting to be broken.

Look, look—won’t she see it, won’t she understand? All that he has, all that he is, lies waiting for her to take. The treasure hunter could rest, abandon her searching, if only she would choose him. Not now, of course, not now when her choice is already him, but later, when the gods lie still and her freedom stretches unbound before her. 

His accounts, his wealth, every piece of his carefully constructed world—she could claim it all, strip it to its bones, and still he would find more for her. Let her be greedy, insatiable; let her empty him entirely. He would gather, he would build, he would conjure whatever she desired, anything to keep her near, anything to make her stay. 

Yes, yes—he could love her forever. 

[potatoes83]

I appreciate the modifier "almost". Now, there was definitely a shift between the idealism of the white picket fence, the perfect family, Honey, I'm home world of the 50s and 60s, and say Married with Children, or The Simpsons. Both great sitcoms in their own right, but it was definitely a relatively new trope of the tit for tat between Peg and Al, or walking through the door to find Lisa on a hunger strike, and Bart smashing a hole through the drywall with a hammer, because reasons.

But there was this trope that definitely started more in the mid to latter period of our idealized Americana, and it most quickly comes to mind with The Flintstones. Now, I've opined on this before, but it bugs the hell out of me, because it's one we haven't yet been able to crack. It remains insidious. There's two sides to this. The first, and perhaps most obvious, is the fact that while Fred and Wilma love each other, one wrong move and she can be an absolute balls cutting bitch. Like seriously, if you have to sneak around to go bowling with the water buffalo lodge, crawling through the window of your own home because it's late and Wilma is either waiting to beat your ass with a cast iron skillet, or get pissed off and go to her mother's with the kid, what the hell is that? Like, living in the real non-idealized world, I don't have to worry about these sort of retributions. There is not going to be punishment or resentment because I want to hang out with my friends.

But then the other side, probably more subtle, is the fact that Fred is a freaking clod. And in this trope, the man always is. Wilma is pissed because Fred managed to forget their anniversary, went out bowling with the guys instead, said he'd be home by 8:00 to watch the kid because Wilma has a graniteware party or some shit that she told him about weeks ago, and instead comes sneaking in at a quarter to 12.

Now of course, the writing on this is just cheap humor. Supposedly relatable, one of those "uh oh, Fred's in the dog house again, we've all been there" sort of things. That's the point of a sitcom, it's idealized, dramatized, all sorts of other ized... but this thing started around that time, and it remains damaging to this day. Because if you look at male female couples as portrayed by the media, you see one of two things.

Going back to the age of The Flintstones, Fred is this big stupid blowhard popping off to anyone who will listen that he's the man of the house, he's not going to take no guff from Wilma for hanging out with the guys, and then comes home completely cucked both because she's downright vicious, but also kind of has a point because he's in the wrong, and is too arrogant to realize it because man. She's been cooking and cleaning all day, she asked him to do one thing, and he managed to screw it up because man. And you see that these days. Oh, she's pissed off, well he's just going to double down, he's going to tell her who the man of the house is, and then he gets the look. Granted, you see this one quite a bit less as time has gone on, because in general, you see strong men a lot less.

So then there's the other thing, and this is a more modern take, where the man is just a fucking idiot. I mean just this completely helpless man-child, thank goodness he is with this snarky judgmental always right woman, because if it wasn't for her, he wouldn't be able to tie his shoes. Anything more complicated than football, nachos, and grunting, he is invariably going to fuck up, so we need her to come to the rescue by clicking something on her cell phone and calling in professionals to deal with it. Of course, while giving a snarky comment, and a holier than thou look. Good thing he's busy watching the game, he won't be in the way when she's getting railed by the plumber she had to call because he couldn't figure out how to put soap in the dishwasher.

What It ultimately boils down to is partnership. I won't even say equality, because that word has been really somewhat co-opted, and wouldn't come across is what I'm trying to get at. Marriage is a partnership. And there are traditional roles. But that is certainly not to say that you are locked into them. Historically, the man does the outside yard work, maybe not the flower gardening, works and provides for the family, the woman takes care of the inside stuff, the cooking the cleaning the vacuuming and all that. He provides for the home, she makes the home. And there is nothing wrong with this, that was a big change with the radfem movement of the 60s, was this idea that so-called traditional gender roles were somehow subjugating to women.

So in our case, I'm the primary provider, I maintain the outside of the house, the home repairs and upkeep, let's call that the traditional masculine gender role. But then I also do most of the cooking. I enjoy it, and I happen to be a trained chef. I'm also home first by a couple hours. The laundry is, I would say, probably split evenly if not leaning a little more towards me, but then it's like I'll do the laundry, but she'll fold and put away all the laundry. Partnership. What It ultimately boils down to is what needs doing. If I'm in the kitchen and the dishwasher needs unloading and reloading, then I'll probably do it. Or maybe she will. She might vacuum, I might vacuum, it just depends who decides to take it upon themselves to do it.

So in a partnership, neither of you are stuck doing a certain thing, or more to the point condemned to do it because of some arbitrary rule. Like she has never mowed the lawn, but that's because it's something that I really enjoy doing. It's a great way to blow off the stress of the work week, it's something that I just really like. And I can't think of any chore around here that she's done that I haven't, but that's because I lived with roommates or out on my own for quite a few years.

I'm getting off on a tangent here, but the point is, we somehow went from an idealism that was based on a reality of partnership, to this almost him versus her scenario. If I had to sneak around and lie to hang out with my friends because she's going to be pissed off no matter what, I wouldn't have married her. And she is strong, intelligent, and beautiful, so if I was one of those "woman, I worked all day, get in that kitchen and cook me a steak" kind of lunkheads, I would hope she wouldn't have married me either. I recognize that. I'm 41 years old. And was raised with two parents, both of whom were in a partnership to run the house and raise a family.

I mean, imagine being a young man today. If you have any kind of strength or self-confidence, you're told that's toxic masculinity, and you just can't be doing that. All your masculine role models in the media are cucks, and why would you want to date the judgmental trash that is portrayed as a woman. This shit needs to change, and I'm not talking a Hallmark movie script either; real, substantive change. Nuclear family, backbone of society, partnerships, in which both parties better each other. 🥔

[bloggerspam]

Fic of a Fic: Caroline meets Ellie

This is a direct homage to @clockwayswrites Caroline from their fic A Hill to Die on.

Ya'll can blame @deathlysilent13 for this.

Disclaimer: I am not super familiar with alters or systems, and in this AU Tim isn't thinking about it/stumbled into it--please do not take this an accurate experience in any way! It's just for fun :)

===

"You're pretty. Do you like boys?"

Caroline blinks. looking to her left and right, trying to find the source of the chipper voice.

It's 3am in the morning, she's just spent the last 5 hours dancing in heels—she can be forgiven for taking a little long to realize that the voice is coming from slightly below her sight line.

When she finally (blearily) looks down, a girl of maybe 7 or 8 is looking up at her with wide, bright blue eyes.

"Thank you." Caroline huffs a confused laugh, smiling as she leans down and braces on her knees to be a little closer and meet the little girls height. "You're quite the darling yourself you know."

"Thank you, I got it from my brother." The little girl blushes, apples of her cheeks truly working hard to turn the same shade as its namesake, but her wide-eyed curiosity is still not abated. "Do you like boys?"

"Yes, I do." Caroline tilts her head, biting her lip against a laugh. "But most boys don't like me."

"Well most boys are stupid." The little girl scrunches up her face in distaste, which is honestly too much cuteness for Caroline to handle right now. The Tim part of her is starting to wake up, albeit sluggishly, in the face of a possible lost child. "But my big brother isn't stupid! He's the best, actually."

"Oh?" Caroline looks around exaggeratedly, though she does scan the area the way Tim would. Nothing in particular to note. Weirdly empty for Gotham, but otherwise… "And where is this so-called best big brother? Little girl like you shouldn't be out and about so early."

The little girl looks shifty then, fiddling with her fingers and kicking up dust, mumbling. "He's still sleeping at his desk."

"His desk?" Caroline is a little worried now, truly. How far can a little kid walk? Caroline searches through her memories, but realizes that Tim's knowledge on such things would be heavily skewed and probably incorrect. Damian isn't the best example, and Tim used to stalk Batman. So.

"He fell asleep working." The little girl explains, before the beans truly spill out. "I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I wanted some milk, but Danny didn't have a blanket so I got him a blanket, and then I figured maybe he'd like some hot chocolate when he woke up, 'cause he always makes me hot chocolate when I can't sleep, or had a nightmare, but we didn't have any hot chocolate at home so I thought maybe I could get some hot chocolate, but the bodega's closed."

Caroline watches bemusedly as the little girl gesticulates her story, walking back and forth and presenting her case as if Caroline is the one who has the issue.

"And then I saw you, and you're like, really pretty, and I definitely think my brother would like you," The little girl beams up at her, as if she's done something great. "Jazzy said that Danny's been lonely, taking care of me all by himself. So I thought, if I can't give him hot chocolate, I can at least let him meet a pretty lady!"

Caroline laughs, she can't help it anymore, trying her best to stifle it in the echoes of the night. "Well now, that's very sweet of you!"

"Thank you!" The little girl wiggles in her happiness. "If you want to meet my brother, I think he'll be happy. We don't have to go if you don't want to though, Danny said consent is important."

"He's right." Caroline wipes a tear and smiles widely down at the little girl. "I'm also pretty sure he's going to be worried out of his mind when he wakes up and finds you gone, so how about we get you home, okay?"

"So you'll meet him???" The little girl jumps up and down in excitement, cheering, "He'll be soooo happy to meet a pretty lady like you!"

"That's very nice of you to say, darling." Caroline's eyes go half lidded in exhaustion, yawning as her smile quirks a little differently, Tim blinking a little more in the forefront. "But I'm afraid I'm not a lady most of the time. Most times, I'm a boy."

The little girl doesn't even hesitate. "Danny likes pretty boys too!" She reaches up a hand, as if waiting for Caroline, no, Tim? to take her hand and lead her home. "He'll be extra happy that you can be both!"

Tim doesn't know what to say to that—his skirt is starting to feel a little too tight, and his feet are killing him. Heels were a mistake, but at least his tights and sweater keeps him warm, even if it's off the shoulder and cropped. The sweater paws are appreciated at least.

"That's very equal opportunity of him." Tim decides to say, drawing it out as if unsure. It's very typical of Caroline to leaving Tim to clean up her messes. "But I'm not sure Danny wouldn't like a random stranger showing up on his doorstep with his little sister."

"Oh!" The little girl jolts, straightening up and putting her hand out for a handshake instead. "My name is Ellie Nightingale, I'm 8 years old, and I love my brothers and sister very much!"

"Hello, Ellie." Tim shakes her hand, deliberating before deciding fuck it. "My name is usually Caroline in this outfit."

Ellie eyes him up and down, scrutinizing him as she twists their clasped hands into a different hold and leading them seemingly towards her home. "But you're not Caroline now."

"I am not." Tim agrees, adjusting his gait into an awkward walk. His feet still hurt, but he's had worse as Red Robin. "Well, I am. But not. She went to…bed, I guess. So now I'm awake."

"What's your name now that you've woken up?" Ellie asks, stopping them at a crosswalk and looking both ways even though it's as empty as Gotham could ever get. Tim thinks on this for a moment, before again, deciding fuck it.

"It's Tim." He replies. "Caroline had a long night, and she thinks I'm better with children."

Ellie gives him a look for that. "I liked Caroline better."

Tim honks out a laugh, quickly covering it up with his free hand. "Sometimes I like Caroline better too."

"That's kind of sad." Ellie reaches up to pat Tim on his hip, the easiest place she can reach. "It's okay, Danny can like Tim better."

Tim feels his face hurt with how wide he's smiling. Kids are a riot. "Sometimes, when I'm a boy-boy, my name is Alvin."

Ellie shrugs. "Is he mean? If he's mean Dante might like him."

Tim, with a wobbly voice from holding in laughter, tries his best to answer. "He's sometimes a little mean."

"Dante can be mean with him. He's not as nice as Danny, but he's just as good of a brother." Ellie chirps, swinging their arms back and forth as she skips. "Do you have another name that Jazzy can like?"

"…I guess I was Todd Richards, once." Tim hums, swinging his arm with her and using his free hand to rub at his chin in thought. "Though he didn't stay long."

"Jazz doesn't like deadbeat men who leave." Ellie primly states, sticking her nose up. "Jazz deserves better."

"…Are you setting me up with all of your siblings?" Tim hesitantly asks, unsure how to explain that they're all monogamous, but like to share? He's never figured it out.

"No, just Danny." Ellie slants an offended look. "You have lotsa names but you're one person right?"

Tim feels lighter than a feather, and he's not sure how to explain that, so he settles for a nervous smile and nod. He's never actually sat down and thought through this whole identity thing in the first place—method acting gone wrong? Right?

Doesn't matter. Ellie's chill with it, so Tim's chill with it. Logic.

Take that, Dick. And Bruce. And Jason. And—

"It's okay to have a buncha names. I used to have a different name." Ellie continues over Tim's righteous thoughts, this time leading the way through a side alley. Tim is actually surprised how empty it is. "My creator was a dickbag though, and Jazzy said it's important for my i-den-ti-ty to have a proper one."

"Language." Tim bites his lip from snorting, noting the peculiar wording Ellie uses. "Creator?"

"Dante said it's okay if it's true." Ellie bites her lip, side-eyeing Tim as she pinches the fabric of her jeans. "And Danny says it's okay as long as Jazzy doesn't hear."

"Is that so?" Tim chuckles, subtly eyeing her fingers.

"It is so." Ellie sniffs, pinching the fabric of her jeans again. "Danny's the best like that." No pinching this time.

A tell. Tim hides his grin with a little cough. "Of course." Ellie seems to be pleased with Tim's agreeable actions.

They're just exiting the alley, coming around the bend, when the door to an apartment complex across the road swings forcefully open. A man, shirtless and NASA patterned pajama pants at barely cling to his hips shoots out, grabbing the before it slams against the wall, forcing it closed as gently as he can so that the security system locks engage. He's handsome even though his hair is a mess, with crease lines Tim can still see from all the way over here that indicate he was just asleep on possible pencil, maybe a screwdriver.

There are. Abs. And arms. Holy shit, those sure are arms.

Ellie perks up, zooming towards the man and dragging Tim with him. "Danny!"

"Ellie!" Danny's head whips up in their direction, the man running towards them with zero hesitation to scoop Ellie up into a hug. "Bug, you worried me, I woke up and you weren't there!"

Oh, shit, even his voice is nice, deep and raspy from sleep even through the sheer relief. Tim tries to focus on the conversation as Ellie recounts her obviously genius and completely founded (to her) reasoning on why she just had to leave the apartment, but ultimately fails.

Did he mention abs? And arms??

The man is taller than Tim by a good couple inches, and bulkier in the shoulders. He's robust, even with that shoulder to waist ratio that Tim (and Caroline) kind of want to aggressively bite at. Deliciously hunky, as Steph would say. He has a unique undercut that's all white, though the stop part of his hair is black as night.

His eyes almost glow green in the dinky streetlights, and Tim's kind of losing it at the soft helpless look the other man's giving his little sister once she's finished her explanation. He's got her sitting on one arm, holding her up so that their faces are level, with Ellie bracing her tiny hands on his shoulder and chest.

Tim kind of wants to cry.

"I know that—" Danny sighs, pinching his brow in a way only exasperated older brothers can. Tim knows, because Dick does it all the time. "I know that you're used to going out alone, but I thought we established that once you started living with me you'd tell me?"

Ellie purses her lips in what seems to be both guilt and indignation. "I did okay before. Nothing happened and I can take care of any bad guys!"

Danny's face crumples a bit for a flash of a moment, stabbing Tim in the heart like thirty million times. "Ellie, it's not that I don't trust you, it's that I care. What happened before…" Danny sighs looking a little distressed and at a loss for words.

Ellie reaches over, smooths a tiny hand over Danny's furrowed brow. "Ok. M'sorry Danny. I love you."

Danny smiles then, once more helpless, "I love you too squirt." Then, as if finally noticing Tim, Danny coughs and turns abruptly red. Like, super concernedly red, actually. Tim's worried he might feint.

"Oh, Ancients, sorry," Danny adjusts Ellie to put her down, but she clings to him, still a little upset. Danny smoothly straightens back up, patting her on the back as she nuzzles into his neck.

Seriously, Tim might die.

"Thanks for bringing her back to me." Danny reaches a hand out, "My name's Danny. Is there any way I can repay you for finding her?"

Tim almost says please date me but thankfully, Bat-training has him calm, collected, and in total control of his mouth.

"It's no problem," Tim smiles his best smile—a little awkward in Caroline's fit, but Tim's no stranger to women's clothing. "And I didn't exactly find her." Tim chuckles as he darts a glance at a now perked up Ellie.

"I found them Danny!" Ellie proudly pronounces, wiggling in place in her excitement again before scrunching her face. "Well. I found Caroline. For you!"

"For me?" Danny confusedly tilts his head, even pointing a finger at himself. "Why would you—"

"Jazzy said you're lonely." Ellie whispers loudly into his ear, Tim trying to stifle his laughter as he bites his lips. "And Dante said that you need to find a friend to have sleepovers with."

Danny's face goes alarmingly red again, slapping a hand to cover his eyes as he groans in embarrassment.

"I'm going to kill them—nosey older—" Danny grumbles, before huffing and smiling apologetically at Tim. "I'm really sorry about this Miss Caroline—"

"He's Tim right now!" Ellie interrupts, yanking at Danny's ear and causing him to yelp. "Caroline went to bed. I like Caroline more, 'cause she's so pretty, see?"

Ellie points at all of Tim, which causes him to smile shyly. He notices that Danny follows where Ellie points, gulping when he meets Tim's eyes again. "Y-yeah, I see that squirt but—"

"But Tim's been really nice, he treats me like a proper person! Most people just think I'm a dumb kid."

"You're not dumb." Tim and Danny say in unison, which makes both of them squeak embarrassingly. So much for Bat-training.

"See! So I thought Tim could be for you, and I could play with Caroline sometimes, and Dante could play with Alvin—"

"Alvin?" Danny asks quietly, to which Tim flashes three fingers, before pointing to his head. Danny nods understandingly before focusing back on Ellie. The quick understanding and no reaction makes all sorts of butterflies bloom in Tim's gut. Like a little mosh pit of bugs. Maybe he needs coffee.

"—and so I said that Jazz deserves better than that, right Danny?" Ellie smooshes Danny's cheeks, making him look all sorts of ridiculous and cute. "Maybe we can even share Caroline!"

"-at's right squirt. S-he does." Danny says through his squished face. He scrunches his nose up—which makes their relation seem so very clear, Ellie's the spitting image of him—before bopping his forehead onto hers and making her giggle as she lets go of his face.

"So, uh. this is all very nice of you, Ellie. I, uhm." Danny glances at Tim, wincing a little, "I love that you did something so nice for me, but you can't gift people, so we're gonna let uh, Tim get on their way okay?"

Ellie pouts, wriggling out of Danny's grip to hide behind Tim and grab at his skirt. "But, but you like pretty ladies! And pretty boys!"

"Where did you even get this information?" Danny's voice cracks, frantically looking back and forth between Tim and Ellie as if he's not sure whether to be embarrassed or indignant.

"Sam said you like pretty ladies that look like they can beat you up." Ellie ticks a finger up, looking up as she recalls this info, "and Tucker said you like guys who look like they need to be taked care of."

Danny groans, head in his hands and hunching his shoulders up to scrunch up as small as he can even as Ellie steamrolls over the noise, "And Jazzy and Dante said that you need somebody that can be weird with you."

Danny jolts up, straightening as if he's found some kind of salvation. "Hey, that's right, and I'm sure Tim is a perfectly awesome guy, uh, girl?" Danny looks at Tim in distress, making Tim chuckle.

"Right now I'm a guy." Tim tries to keep his voice soft and low, smiling a little shyly. Distantly, he wonders if he's smudged Caroline's lipstick.

"Right!" Danny coughs, red again, "Right, so he's a perfectly normal guy and totally not weird, Okay, Ellie? C'mon, let's not take up more of Tim's night, okay?"

"I like weird." Tim nonchalantly says, innocent as he lays a hand on Ellie's back. "I mean, I've got at least three people sharing space in my noggin. Sort of." She beams up at him and snuggles closer to his leg, a warm line of comfort and affection. "We can be weird together, I think."

Danny flaps his mouth open and closed, at a loss for words. Tim's not about to explain this whole method acting turned stress relief gender euphoria turned alternate identity thing, so he plows on.

"I'm sometimes a lady—" Ellie interrupts him with an adamant pretty! "—a pretty lady that can definitely put you in your place." Tim does a slow up and down, Caroline peeking through in body memory even if she's not fully forefront.

It makes Danny do that cute little squeak again—-That's three times now, and Tim wants to know if he can manage a fourth. It also makes Danny remember how shirtless he is, making the other man twitch as if he might cover his chest but doesn't want to bring more attention to this fact so he restrains himself.

Tim licks his lips, staring at his pecs and—there's that fourth squeak and arms crossing over that delicious chest.

"And y'know," Tim goes a little shy now, scratching at the back of his neck, "I sometimes forget to sleep and eat." He shrugs with a little moue of distaste as the words he's about to say, "My family says I'm kind of a workaholic and need taking care of."

"Oh!" Ellie bounces up and down, tugging at Tim's skirt again, flashing a little hip that makes Danny eep and slap his hands over his eyes. Big guy like him should not be this freaking cute, seriously. "Oh! Jazzy says Danny's a work-a-ho-lic too!"

"Yeah?" Tim says to Ellie, even as he keeps eye contact with Danny as he's peeking through his fingers, "Guess that means I gotta at least give it a shot, right?"

Tim's not sure where this confidence is coming from: remnants of Caroline, being so free with his other…roommates, Ellie, or Danny's reactions, but it's bolstering him up.

It makes him bold, and kinda reckless. Mr. Sarcastic would approve.

"Yeah!" Ellie agrees, tugging Tim's hand into hers. She pulls him towards Danny, who obliging gives her his hand when she asks for it wordlessly with her own. "You gotta at least try. Jazzy said you give up too much for me!" Ellie makes the saddest, most pathetic looking pout Tim's ever seen. "I don't wanna be the reason you're sad and alone Danny!"

Danny bites his lip, looking at Tim for a long moment. Tim tries to smile reassuredly, to convey that he's totally on board for at least one date. (For maybe many many dates?) His shoulders slump, but his blush is still rampant. It's crawling down his neck, up his cheeks and bleeding into his ears.

He's the cutest thing Tim's ever seen at 4am in the morning.

"O-okay, uhm." Danny fumbles with his phone, "I-I could give you my number?"

"Sounds great." Tim shyly smiles as they exchange numbers, Ellie keeping both their hands hostage as if they might run away the second she lets go. Good thing Tim's ambidextrous. "I'll call you, maybe set something up this weekend?"

"It's a date." Danny smiles, Ellie squealing in excitement and cheering as she finally lets go to jump around.

Just as they get ready to part ways, Ellie tugs at Tim's skirt again, cupping her hands in a bid for Tim to crouch down and lend an ear. He does so obligingly.

"Can Caroline wake up for a second so I can say goodbye?" She whispers loudly. Tim smirks a little, rummaging up the vestiges of Caroline and sort of—blinks.

"Goodnight darling." Caroline does a sly little smile, kissing Ellie on the cheek and winking up at Danny. "And you were right! Your brother is the best."

Ellie beams, giving her a kiss on the cheek back. "Good night, Caroline!"

[roanniom]

Couldn't Wait

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, piv

When you come home from your girls night out, you had expected to find your boyfriend on the couch watching a horror movie or reading a comic book. You hadn't expected to find him waiting to pounce the minute you walked in the door.

"What has gotten into you, Eddie Bear?" you ask with a laugh, kicking off your heels so he can pull you down onto the couch with him.

"I need you, baby. Need you right now." His voice is rough between kisses delivered to your neck and cheeks and collar bone.

"Ok just let me change out of these clothes real quick -,"

“C’mon honey please, ‘m so fucking hard, jus’ look.”

He’s right. His cock is standing at attention in his sweatpants, clearly aching and reaching out for you. He drops a hand to his lap and palms himself slowly.

“Fuck, baby. Please. Need that tight little pussy. Let me have it.”

Your eyes widen taking in the state of him.

"Eddie Munson, what has gotten you so worked up that you could barely wait for me to get back?"

Eddie's gaze shifts away from you sheepishly over to the coffee table. Before he can stop you, you reach for the thing he'd glanced at - a polaroid of you. On your back in your shared bed. Naked and blissed out with a tattooed arm reaching in from the bottom of frame to rest a hand in the space between your legs.

"Oh," you say simply, a small smile forming on your lips.

"Baby, I'm fucking aching for you."

You play with one of his curls and pretend to consider it.

"Why didn't you just take care of yourself while I was gone?" you ask. "I wouldn't have minded."

"You think I would deprive myself of a goddess in favor of my own shitty hand? Babe. Be serious."

Eddie's eyelids are heavy and his chest rises and falls a little more rapidly the more he gets worked up. You drop your palm to it and let it slide down the plane of his torso, down his abdomen, and into his lap.

"Alright. We can be serious." You wrap your hand around his length through his pants in earnest. Eddie intakes breath sharply.

"Yes. Yes yes yes."

Your clothes on the floor in a matter of seconds, Eddie replacing the cups of your bra with his hands.

"Ahhh finally," Eddie says with the gusto of a man having his first drink of water after a long thirst. All you're doing is grinding down on him, working yourself up to reach his level. But the look on Eddie's face implies he's reached nirvana.

"You wanted me that bad, huh?" you tease, a bit more breathlessly.

"More than a blind man wants to see the sun," Eddie says reverently into your cleavage.

"Well that's an exaggeration," you chuckle. You can't press it, however, because Eddie begins pressing his finger on your clit through your underwear. After a few minutes you find yourself writhing above him.

After a particularly loud moan from you, Eddie grins.

"Speaking of exaggeration..."

"Oh shut up and fuck me, Munson," you smack his shoulder and climb off him to divest yourself of your final scrap of clothing.

"With pleasure. princess." Eddie gives you a salute before chucking off the rest of his clothes as well.

Before you can ask him how he wants you, however, you're twirled around to face away from him, his hand on the back of your neck, guiding you to kneel on the couch.

"That's it, baby," Eddie practically purrs. He lines his tip up with your dripping center, but instead of immediately sheathing himself inside of you, he swipes from your core down to your clit.

"Fucking tease," you complain, wiggling your hips to entice him forward. After all of his pleading and cajoling he was still making you wait. A swift slap to your ass makes you squeal.

"Takes one to know one."

When he finally does slide inside of you, you realize he's right. You'd rather this - a quick fuck in the dark of night with your lover - than seeing the sun.

~*~

I hope you enjoyed!

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Obsession (Part 2)

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

Tw: stalker!In Ho

Note: (c/n) stand for cat name

5 years had gone by and all In Ho had to go off of were bank statements and transactions to know where you were and if you were still alive. He knew where you lived, your favorite places to eat, to watch movies, and where your favorite shop was. He also knows you have new kitten, but not his name, probably something like (c/n).

No new lover. Nothing since you left. You picked up a job as a (whatever you wanna be), and were living. He knew in his mind the reason you couldn’t move on was because of him and he knew it.

He snuck around and watched you through plain view. Sometimes he sent people to watch you and report back to him. Other times, he’d travel to where you were and stalk you, follow you to the market, ducking you between isles, or on the train, watching you through a crowd of people.

He would stand in front of the cottage you bought on the edge of town, how easy it’d be to take you. You had a bad habit of leaving your windows open. Leaving your life open for all to see. He’s watched you masturbate more times than he can count. He has videos of you throwing your head back as you cum. Your moans quietly seeping through the window. He would jerk off at the same time, cumming in the darkness as he watched you, leaving his cum on the flowers that you planted along the walls of your house.

He hated to admit to himself but he was jerking off to you almost every right, smelling your jacket like a sick man. I am sick he admitted.

So many days and nights he was grabbing onto his bed sheets, pressed up against his shower wall or even in his chair by the big screen, he was cumming for you, with you in mind, he missed you. But he missed your pussy more. Today, he was determined to get it. He approached you as you drank a coffee, typing on your laptop.

“Hello ma’am” he bowed “would you like to hear about your lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

“No, not right n-“ you stopped. “What’re you doing here, In Ho? It’s been 5 years, do you think what I said changed?” You say coldly.

“I know it hasn’t.” He sat before you can continue speaking. “I miss you (y/n). I mean, really fucking miss you. It’s been a lonely 5 years, I miss your smell, your touch, your hair. I miss the way you talk and your smile. I just miss you”

“You know, for a very intelligent man, you’re acting and sounding really fucking stupid.” You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “I mean, you miss me. So what? I miss Young il, but I’m never getting him back, am I?”

“But I’m right here?”

“No… you aren’t young il… I don’t know you”

“And what, you think I lied?!” You nodded. “About what? Huh? What would I possibly lie to you about?”

“Everything, that whole relationship we developed, that sex we had, that love.” You say. “As far as I’m concerned, Young il was an angel and you don’t even exist.”

“But my wallet does?”

“Honestly, you can have your card back.” You shake your head. “I don’t need dirty money”

“It’s clean. It comes from the stocks i invest in. Really (y/n), do you honestly think I’d give you game money?” He looks at you intensely. He wanted to tell you how attracted to you he still was. How his cock still aches for you. How he just wishes to fuck you. It was sitting across from you that he realized he was going to fuck you… whether you liked it or not.

“What do you want?” You sighed finally.

“One date with you. Please.” He stated. He knew deep in his heart that you still wanted him, you yearned for him. He needed you.

“No” you say and stand up.

“Look, one date, to show you who I really am as a person.” He argued. “Who I am outside of those damned games that ruined us. If after that you still decide you hate me, that’ll be all. You can live your life and I can live mine knowing at least I tried to make it better” he pleaded. His eyes pulling at your heart strings as they once did. You saw Young il for a brief moment, before seeing In Ho. You saw the man that was so sweet and gentle.

“Fine. One.” you conceded. You traded numbers and you left. Not knowing that In Ho could now tap your phone, could ruin your whole life. But truly the only thing he wanted to ruin was you.

You made it to your little cottage. It stood on the edge of the city with a small village of cottage farmers surrounding it. Fluffy baby cows and little lambs screamed at you from your neighbors house. Horses neighbors and goats cried. Your life was perfect, this place was perfect. Young il would have loved it… In Ho obviously prefers different style of life. Black and gold, power, money.

“Hi (c/n)” you say as he purred at you. He looped around you as you walked further into your house. You placed your items on your kitchen table. It was already 6. You cooked some dinner and watched an American drama you found on Netflix. Laughing along with the characters.

In Ho made it to his own home. The black and gold now insulted his eyes, it had ever since he saw the disgust on your face while you spoke angry and heartbroken. He sat at his computer, plugging in his phone. He stayed up for hours, deep into the night, hacking into your phone.

“Photos” he said aloud as he clicked it. He found a treasure trove of pictures. You with some friends, with family, birthdays, dinners, then he found your private photos.

“Let’s see (y/n), what do you do all alone” he whispered opening it. Pictures and videos of yourself floated into view, things other men should never see. Disgusting men like him should never see. He quickly searched through your sent and deleted messages, as far back as he could go, they’d never been sent. He returned back to the photos and stared at each on individually, videos playing, hardening his cock.

In Ho began to touch himself as he watched, his hand moving in sync with yours on the screen. He felt like he was participating in your intimate moment, like an invisible partner who you couldn't see or feel but was there nonetheless. He couldn’t help but freely moan into the emptiness of his room.

As the video played on, In Ho's movements became faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer to climax, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a teenager again, watching porn, anxious that his parents may walk in. The thought that these were moments meant for no one else's eyes but yours made it even more exhilarating for him.

“I’m gonna cum” you said on camera. To him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum” In Ho was getting sent into overdrive heavy sighs coursing through his lungs. “Oh god, Young il, I’m gonna cum on your fingers” he lost it. You were pleasuring to the thought of him, maybe his over persona, but still him nonetheless.

With one final stroke from you on screen and a simultaneous motion from In Ho's own hand came the peak of pleasure for him followed closely by release. His orgasm washed over him so strongly it left him gasping loudly within seconds all over both his keyboard and along edges near the monitor until reaching very tip top edge finally. He was panting, falling backwards, sinking deep into his chair. Cum heavily covered his desk space, now stained forevermore, a mess entirely due to a solely singular sickening act alone performed freely without fear. Through his sinful act.

If you knew would you forgive him?

[thetadispatcher]

The AP700 nodded as he lowered his head slightly, embarrassed he'd let his own panic cause him to ramble unnecessarily and over explain. He couldn't help it, but that didn't stop him from feeling ashamed of himself for it.

Vincent instinctively raised his hand to start fidgeting with his damaged ear, but a sharp snap from Dan's fingers caused him to jump, and his hand shot back down as every synthetic muscle in his body tensed. His attention snapped to stare wide eyed at the PL600, who gave him a stern look and a slight head shake.

Dan had already turned away from the AP700, so missed the signs of how badly he'd startled the newer android. Vincent placed his hand on his chest as he tried to get his breathing back under control, and his pump regulator to slow back down.

He leaned more into the other android as he calmed down, his systems deciding to go into stasis due to how much energy he'd lost. His emotional distressed had put more strain on his systems then usual, causing the tired feeling he usually had to worsen.

Vincent slowly went completely limp as his eyes shut, his joints hadn't locked into place as his position meant he wasn't at risk of falling and damaging himself well powered down.

John caught the odd look on the human's face, nearly calling it out before Nines mentally told him to drop it. The RK900 felt it wasn't necessary to bring attention to it, the fact there was an older Peter and a human Bishop present lead him to believe the android likely had a counterpart as well. One the human clearly knew, so there was no need to call out the reaction to the android stating his name.

Hugh nodded as he took note of the human's name before turning his attention to the game, placing down two of his own cards rather then calling out the man. Which earned him a disapproving look from Nines, who seemed more inclined to believe the human had lied.

Hugh gave the RK900 an angry glare, quietly reminding the other he wasn't built for detective work. Nines stared at the large android a moment, then narrowed his eyes at him. "Nice try." He said as he motioned to the cards, instructing the other to flip them to prove they matched the round card.

The android did as instructed, revealing the cards he'd placed didn't match so he picked up the tool, placing it to where his LED would be. The tool clicked signalling he'd gotten lucky, and the tool hadn't gone off. He placed it back into the table as Nines took his turn, and John did as well. The other unit had decided the RK900 wasn't lying, as Nines made it difficult for him knowing he was made to noticed a liar.

John turned his attention to the human, still trying to develop a profile of him and knowing if he could tell he had lied would help, allowing him to correct his actions as needed.

"I do wonder about Vincent, he seems like he went through something pretty traumatic for him to be so anxious constantly. Might have something to do with his messed up ear." Strasky was cut off by Sixty, who quickly interjected to correct him.

"Nope, that was just poor, rushed shipping that bent his ear, and it was a lot worse then it is now. The parents fixed it on their own instead of taking him for repairs, this was just because of the whole deviant situation getting worse and people attacking Cyberlife stores." Sixty explained as he waved his hand slightly. "He's just easily freaked out due to seeing a lot of dead androids on the news and people attacking non-deviants. He also saw his model dead and hung in a destroyed Cyberlife store, which really didn't help. He freaked out and deviated due to being left alone momentarily in a crowded place, so that's why he's skittish." The Rk800 calmly explained, he felt it best they know Vincent wasn't being abused and that his behavior was due to witnessing androids being attacked for merely existing.

Strasky nodded as Sixty finished, at least now the AP700's initial reaction towards them made sense as he likely thought they were a threat to his safety.

He turned his attention from the android as he left to fetch something, which he suspected would likely be a few boxes to put the toys in so they could easily carry them around. Strasky looked over the shelves, noting that most were realistic colors. Sixty came back with a large box and a smaller one which he set nearby, before he went back to what he'd previously been doing.

Strasky pulled the stuffed toys down that fit the information Willow had given him as he kept talking, silently noting that Sixty was doing the same quite happily. He felt Sixty just liked looking at the toys, and having a reason to go through them was good enough for him.

"I'm sure Daniel will get better quickly, he's in a place where he's getting the appreciation and acceptance he wanted from his previous owners." He felt it was sad that the android was denied something so simple, but at least he was out of that horrible situation and in a far better place.

"Dan is pretty nice too, I can see why Peter's attached to him. We did discuss what happened on PATHOS-II, and I can tell he tried his best to help me work out my feelings about it, and provide me with other ways to look at it. I still don't understand why, but I feel like I can talk to him without worrying about him judging me or anything." Strasky didn't know why, but talking about the horrors of PATHOS-II had helped him feel a bit better. Dan wasn't obligated to help him, but he did. Sure, the PL600 had forced him to voice his feelings on the worst of what had happened, but he felt the android knew pushing him to let out his emotions would benefit him.

"I mean... I want to share how I feel, but I just can't do it without thinking about being a burden and that I have no right to push my problems onto someone else.... Doing everything so far has been a struggle as I can't stop myself from feeling like I'm being a problem, and asking too much when I can't offer much in return... Maybe it's seeing basically someone who is me put so much trust into someone else that makes me feel like I can too, even if I hardly even know Dan." That was the best reason he could think of, or at least the one Masters would've given him if he was talking to her about it. "Or maybe he just really knows what he's doing, he does have a lot of experience dealing with a version of me. So he's probably learned the best way to get me to talk, even if I don't want to."

"I did do my best to help him, that's why we were gone longer then needed. I was pushing him to talk about things he clearly didn't want to, but he did give in, albeit in an emotional explosion. He seemed better afterwards, a bit calmer which is a good start considering everything he went through." Dan knew from dealing with Peter that he had a tendency to bottle up his emotions until he blew up over something small, and he knew harping on the major thing would eventually set him off on an emotional rant about why it upset him.

"Talking things out with his coworkers will definitely help though, based on what he said to me that seems to be the root of the issue. He feels he let everyone down, and that he's solely responsible for a lot of what happened." Dan paused as the creature on his shoulders nuzzled his face before stretching it's head out to Rook, allowing her to pet it's smooth body.

"It's not that he doesn't want help, he just feels guilty and like an annoyance for needing it. Peter's the same way, he'll jump to help anyone who asks, but refuse to ask for help when he needs it because he feels like he'll inconvenience someone. So he bottles everything up till he can't anymore and he blows up over something minor." Dan felt applying his experiences with Peter to the older one was a good way to explain the likely reason behind his actions.

"Peter at least now will go to me with anything that upsets him as he knows I'll never react the way he fears others will, it took a few years to get to that point though." Dan knew part of why Peter saw him as a sibling was due to how hard the PL600 had worked to get Peter to know it was safe to talk to him about whatever he wanted, that Dan wouldn't judge him for it.

"Strasky didn't take as much prodding as I thought he would, likely because he knows how much Peter trusts me, and that in turn means he can too. I saw him struggling with himself every time I repeated my question. I might be able to talk him into sharing his feelings more freely with you." Dan felt it was only fair as he wouldn't be around the man enough to aid him effectively, and he could use the fact Strasky saw him as trustworthy thanks to Peter, even if the man clearly didn't consciously know why he felt the way he did towards the android.

"But I can share some useful tips. A good way to get someone like them to talk is to make yourself vulnerable to them, be it by sharing similar experiences or just difficult things you experienced. I talked to him about how it felt being stuck at Jericho, and let him know his feelings about what happened to him were valid. And when he started talking, I stopped so he would continue." Dan explained, hoping he could at least give them a place to start when dealing with Strasky.

"It does take awhile to get to a point with them were they trust you, but I do believe he has a level of trust in you. He's just worried that dumping his issues on you will cause you to leave, best I can recommend is if he starts voicing those concerns is to reassure him it won't happen, and to not react negatively to whatever he shares. You might not mean something to come off as judgemental, but he'll take it as such and close back off. Try to take a minute after he finishes to think instead of providing an immediate response, try saying thank you or a variation of it. Just to reaffirm it's okay for him to share things and that is appreciated when he does." Dan knew how to handle them from personal experience, and his programming as a household unit meant he knew the best way to gain trust, and get people to share issues with him.

"As a household unit, I am programmed to know how to get the children in my care to trust and talk to me, unfortunately I cannot provide the help they might need. I can only report my concerns and suggest care to the parents in a way that doesn't break the child's trust to confide in me." Dan felt he should explain how he could get people to talk to him, as it was likely very odd how easy it was for him. "I wish I could do more to help, but providing you with what I know is the best I can do."

The android seemed to always be on his best behavior around Vincent, even when he wouldn't have minded bothering Dan. Sure, the other's systems always seemed on the verge of overloading and he didn't enjoy some casual brawling. But he was harmless, thus he could afford to lower his guard.

The only real threat in the house was Bishop anyway, the other humans simply looked odd. They could be ignored and he could spend some time knitting.

"Mh." He looked down as Vincent leaned in and started apologizing profusely. That was a lot of words just for daring to get a little closer. He supposed he appreciated the concern, but he didn't really care.

"You may rest." It wasn't as if it'd compromise his mobility.

Bishop smirked. The temptation to say he already knew Strohmeier's name was strong, but he managed to hold back for the sake of the game.

"The name's Bishop." he said, looking at his cards. He picked a three and placed it down, then looked at the androids.

Willow kept an eye on Sixty, if anything, to be ready in case something got knocked down.

"Even twins have different personalities. These androids have been individuals for a short time and have been molded by their most recent experiences, but they still qualify as such." the cyborg replied, taking her gloves off, "But they're hardly at the end of their path. Perhaps Daniel will improve over time and so might Vincent. Artificial beings can heal too."

That went for Strasky too, as far as she was concerned. Willow reached for the nearest toy, taking a moment to focus on the feeling of the fabric provided by the sensors in her hands.

"The children need more items to decorate their rooms with. Their preferences, according to the last survey, seem to be dogs, felines, birds and have showed less interest in toys with bright colors." she listed, "Erica will likely claim whatever they will turn down. I suppose we should pick whatever catches our attention."

Then again, she could have used a few new plushies as well.

"Well, the hope is that they'll sort each other out…and maybe be nicer to him. Strasky basically felt responsible for everybody else, which worked out as well as it sounds." Rook said, giving a shrug, "And I feel like he doesn't want the help. I can try to cheer him up, but I'm not Strohmeier or one of the others."

She paused for a moment, then carefully reached out to pet Prince.