#I really want to just stuff my face and pass out

[rootedinrevisions]

Rooster Comes Home to His Girls

SUMMARY: There are not a ton of plot points, just Husband and Dad Bradley coming home to his girls.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNINGS: None (Pure fluff on this one)

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

A/N: I need something fluffy in my life and saw this picture on Pinterest and the idea just kind of flowed from there. Between everything going on in the country today and the stuff that's been going on in my personal life the past six months or so, I needed some pure, sickeningly sweet fluff. So here it is! Hope you enjoy!

The quiet hum of the baby monitor filled the kitchen as you stood at the sink, rinsing out a bottle. The rhythmic motion had become almost meditative over the past few weeks, a small way to keep yourself grounded while you waited for Bradley to come home. It had been a long deployment, and the days had felt heavier as they passed, each one marked by the absence of his presence, his laugh, his steady, calming voice. Now, he was finally on his way back, and your heart beat faster with every small sound outside, every imagined footstep near the door.

Suddenly, the soft creak of the front door reached your ears, and you froze, breath catching in your throat. You turned just in time to see him step into the house, his duffel bag dropping to the floor as his eyes found yours. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. He looked a little worn, a little tired, but his eyes shone with the same warmth, the same love, that had carried you through his absence. And just like that, the weight you’d been carrying slipped away.

You barely noticed dropping the kitchen towel as you moved toward him, your feet quickening until you were close enough to feel the warmth of him, smell the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne, and the hint of jet fuel that clung to his clothes.

Bradley pulled you into his arms with a gentle strength, as though he was afraid you might break, his hands settling firmly against your back as he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion as he buried his face in your hair.

His embrace felt like home, solid and sure, grounding you after weeks of doing everything alone. You leaned into him, closing your eyes as his hand gently cradled the back of your head, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, feeling tears well up as you clutched him tighter, the reality of having him here again making your heart ache in the best way.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, letting your eyes drink in every detail of his face—the familiar curve of his jaw, the warmth in his gaze, the slight shadow of exhaustion under his eyes.

And then, without a word, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft, tender, and filled with all the words he hadn’t been able to say. You kissed him back, pouring all your relief, your longing, and your love into that moment. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear as he deepened the kiss, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were really here, that he was really home.

But then, the soft crackle of the baby monitor brought you both back, followed by a familiar whimper, a little cry that quickly turned into a wail. You sighed, feeling the exhaustion return as your mind shifted back to reality. You started to pull away, ready to go to her, but Bradley stopped you, his hand gently catching yours.

“Hey,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile as he looked toward the monitor, where your daughter’s cries continued. “I’ve got it. Let me take care of her.”

You hesitated, feeling the instinct to take over, to keep doing what you’d been doing alone for so long. “Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

But Bradley shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “You’ve been doing this on your own for weeks. Let me be the dad for a while,” he said softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. “You look tired, sweetheart.”

You let out a breath, feeling the truth of those words hit you. “It’s been… a lot, but it’s okay. It’s what I signed up for.”

He gave a small shake of his head, his expression softening into something even more tender. “No, it’s not okay for you to do this alone. Go, relax. Take a bath, take the whole night off. I’ve got her.”

You felt the last bit of tension in your shoulders finally start to ease, the exhaustion you’d been holding back settling over you. You nodded, giving him a grateful smile as you whispered, “Thank you, Bradley.”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before he let go, watching you with that same soft smile as you stepped back, finally allowing yourself to let him take over.

You paused at the doorway, glancing back as he turned and headed down the hall toward the nursery, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the soft glow of the nightlight spilling from your daughter’s room.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself sink into the silence, the weight lifting as you headed to the bathroom. It was strange, letting go of the constant watchfulness, but you trusted him completely. He was here now, and that was all that mattered.

In the bathroom, you ran a warm bath, sinking into the soothing water as the tension slowly faded away. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to truly relax, closing your eyes and letting the warmth envelop you. You didn’t have to be on alert, didn’t have to listen for every small sound—Bradley was here, and he had everything under control.

After a while, you slipped into your pajamas, feeling more refreshed than you had in ages. You padded quietly down the hall, and as you passed the nursery you heard your daughter’s laughter  filling the air.

Quietly, you made your way to the doorway and peeked inside, stopping when you saw Bradley kneeling beside her crib. He had a teddy bear in his hand, making playful growling noises as he wiggled it toward her, his eyes bright with joy. Each time the bear touched her belly, she erupted into giggles, her little hands reaching out to grab it.

You leaned against the doorframe, smiling as you watched them. Bradley’s face softened as he looked at her, all the strength and resolve he usually wore dissolving into pure love. He was so gentle with her, the way he brushed a strand of hair from her face, the way he whispered silly little things to make her laugh as if he was trying to make up for every minute he’d missed while he was away.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t wipe it away. Moments like this remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place.

Even after everything, the deployments, the late nights, the lonely stretches—you knew he was worth it.

You then watched as he picked her up, bringing her into his arms in a cradling position. He began to sway gently as he whispered to her, his voice a low, soothing murmur. She reached out and curled her little fingers around his thumb, her big, sleepy eyes fixed on him as though she was entranced.

You leaned against the doorway, watching the two of them, your heart full as you took in the sight of your husband cradling his little girl, his own eyes filled with pure love.

“Daddy’s home. I’m so sorry I was gone for so long, but I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your daughter blinked up at him, her little hand reaching up to touch his face, her tiny fingers brushing against his cheek. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek as he held her close.

You felt your own eyes misting as you watched him with her, the quiet love and devotion in his expression a balm to your soul. He looked over, noticing you in the doorway, and gave you a small, tender smile.

“Caught me,” he said softly, a touch of playful warmth in his voice.

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him as he shifted slightly, making room for you to lean in, resting your head against his shoulder as you looked down at your daughter. “I love seeing this side of you,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“She’s grown so much,” he murmured, looking over at you with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “I feel like I missed so much.”

You shook your head, stepping closer, resting a hand on his arm. “She’s been waiting for you, Bradley. We both have.”

“I’m here now.” He reached up, his hand covering yours, a silent promise in his touch. The three of you stood there in the soft glow of the nursery, wrapped in a moment of love, peace, and quiet joy—a moment you knew you’d hold close to your heart, long after he had to leave again.

For now, though, he was here, and everything was just as it should be.

[storywriter007]

Hi I recently found your page and fell in love with your stories!! I was just wondering if I could request a Percy x reader (maybe Hera’s forbidden child if that's ok) they got together after Percy and Anabeth broke up. And they fight because of Anabeth and how Percy and her are still really close even after the breakup. And reader feels like a second choice and a replacement that can’t compare to the original. something like that but I was hoping that we could get jealous and regretful Percy to

I Needed You - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: ooooh ofc i hope you like this!!

warnings: cursing, toxic relationships

genre: angst

word count: 1k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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requests are closed

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

"you're a disgrace to my name and everything i stand for!"

for years, y/n had tried so hard to gain her mother's approval. she had done everything: she studied until dawn, trained like no tomorrow, sacrificed her life and sanity, and defended this wicked woman to her peers.

but it wasn't enough. it was never enough. because to hera, y/n was only her forbidden child. the mistake, the accident, the thing that was never supposed to happen.

"you are the worst thing that's ever happened to me! i didn't want you, i didn't want you to be here!" the angry goddess boomed.

"yeah? well, i didn't want to be here either!" y/n yelled back, tears welling up in her eyes.

"everyday, i ask the fates why the hell did luke castellan die when it should've been you! it should've been you who didn't make it out! it should've been you!" she screamed

y/n went quiet; she could feel the eyes on her. she could see zeus next to hera, looking down at the marble floors with sincerity.

she knew it was low when zeus empathized with her.

"i ask them the same thing mom." y/n said softly, a tear spilling out of her eye.

she took a few steps backward, before turning around to walk away.

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the cruel words of her mother replayed in her head as she made her way to percy's apartment. she was minutes away from a breakdown as she knocked on his door.

no answer.

she knocked again, this time, percy quietly opened the door. his eyes were flooded with sympathy, but it wasn't for y/n. she looked past his shoulder to see annabeth on his couch, her face in her hands.

"sorry y/n, can you come back later?" he whispered. "annie's going through something right now."

"yeah, sure." y/n said calmly, feeling her heart shatter.

what could be so important?

"is she okay?" y/n asked.

"yeah, she's fine." percy continued. "she just got a bad grade on her test, and she's really upset about it. y'know how much this stuff means to her."

"aw, i understand." she lied.

no she didn't. a test grade? seriously? y/n had just had the fallout of the lifetime with her mother, and she had told percy about having to talk to her mother beforehand. but of course, when it came to annabeth, he had to drop everything.

"thanks." he smiled before shutting the door quickly.

y/n walked back to her own apartment, fingers pressed against her mouth to block the violent sobs. as soon as she got home, she collapsed on the floor and cried.

she wondered the same thing she had wondered her whole life: why wasn't she good enough?

was this a curse her mother had placed on her? the overwhelming feeling of inferiority that would follow her everywhere. she hated herself, she hated everything about herself, and everybody returned the sentiment. from her mother to her boyfriend, she was just unlovable.

and the one time she needed percy, he wasn't there for her.

hours passed by as y/n wept, and once it struck midnight, she had run out of tears. she steadily got up and drank a sip of water before sitting on her couch. she brought her knees to her chest as she looked out to the city.

suddenly, there was a knock on the door. she didn't have energy to talk to anyone right now.

the knock persisted and she opened the door to see sea green eyes staring at her. she defeatedly opened the door and let him in.

"sorry it took me so long, annie was really upset-"

"shut up, percy. just shut up!" she snapped.

he paused.

"what? are you okay?"

"no! i'm not okay! i told you that i had to go talk to hera today!"

"oh shit, y/n, i'm sorry, i completely forgot!"

his face changed as the realization hit his face.

"i don't give a fuck! you dropped everything as soon as annabeth showed up, didn't you?" she asked, angrily. "i-i mean i get it, okay? you forgot, that's fine. but i came to your door, barely keeping it together, you could see the tears in my eyes and hear my shaky voice, but you just shut the door and acted like i didn't exist until now!"

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." he apologized, coming closer to her.

"i don't care that you're sorry! i'm sick of you always prioritizing annabeth over me!"

"i'm sorry, i got caught up-"

"i don't care! stop telling me you're sorry if you're not going to change!"

"y/n, please. i'm sorry i wasn't here before, but i'm here now." he pleaded.

"you should've been here before!" she said. "you should've been here when i needed you to be!" her voice cracked.

"don't cry, please, please don't cry."

"but instead, you were with annabeth. comforting her, choosing her, like you always do!"

"i'm sorry, she was hur-"

"she was hurt? i was hurt when my own fucking mother told me she wished i was dead!"

"oh my gods, y/n, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

"stop saying sorry like you care!" she said, tears streaming down her face. "our entire relationship, you've just treated me like the next best thing. the girl you took because annabeth didn't want you anymore. i'm your second choice."

"y/n." he said softly, walking over to her.

"go home percy. i'm sure there's someone who needs you more than i do right now."

"y/n, i'm sorry." he pleaded.

"no, i've had one of the worst days of my life, and i needed you. and you chose to be with someone else." she said through tears. "so now, you're going to chose to be without me."

"y/n."

she didn't say anything. he quietly began making his way to the door, but she didn't spare him a look. she looked outside the window, at the city lights. in the reflection, she could see him. she could see the regret and pain in his eyes. he opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped. his eyes filled with water as he quietly shut the door and left.

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part Four)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad

Later that day...

After you finished your last scene, at around 6 o'clock that day, a few of the cast members where quick to leave while others were hanging around.

"Are you joining us for dinner tonight?" one of the younger actors asked, flashing you a bright smile. "We often go to the pub on the corner. The food there is fantastic, and the atmosphere is totally relaxed."

You shook your head, a somewhat tired but polite smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Thanks, but I’m going to skip it tonight. I am pretty tired," you explained while Cillian joined the conversation beside you, his hands in his pockets.

"What about you, Cillian?" the same actor asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Cillian chuckled softly. "I think you already know the answer to that. No pub for me tonight."

Laughter rippled through the group. "You're such a hermit," another actor teased, nudging him but Cillian simply shrugged.

"Are all of you Irish like this?" the young man then asked, but you shook your head.

You rolled your eyes, smirking at the banter. “No, just Cillian. I’m saving money, not avoiding socializing,” you shot back, grinning, while Cillian chuckled softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement before suggesting that you walk back to the apartment complex together.

As you walked out of the studio, the air felt fresher with the evening breeze nudging at your skin. Streetlights flickered on, casting an amber glow along the pavement.

"You really should think about joining them next time, to get to know some more people in the industry," Cillian said, stepping beside you as you crossed the street.

“I know, but I am actually saving money and this job does not pay well unless you are famous," you replied, your voice laced with a hint of humor, though a hint of truth lingered in your tone. “I’d rather not spend it on overpriced pub grub.”

Cillian nodded, a knowing look in his deep blue eyes. "I remember those days, believe me," he chuckled before glancing down at the street as you both walked. "I used to count every penny back when I was starting out."

You looked up at him, intrigued. “Really? You? I can’t imagine you ever struggling.”

A wry smile danced on his lips. "You'd be surprised," he replied, his gaze flickering to a passing car. "I was hitchhiking because I couldn't afford a bloody car back then. It takes a lot to get where you want to be."

You snorted. "Oh my god, did you ever get picked up by some weirdos?" you asked, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

Cillian threw his head back in laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet street. “Trust me, I have stories that would make your skin crawl.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But I suppose that's part of the journey. You learn a lot when you’re out there.”

As approaching your hotel, the neon sign of a supermarket glowed invitingly across the street.

“I do need to grab some food, do you want to come?" he then asked as you paused at the entrance. You glanced at the bright lights illuminating the aisles of the supermarket, welcoming the idea of joining him.

"Sure, I need some stuff too," you replied, falling into step beside him as you both pushed through the sliding glass doors.

Inside, the familiar scent of produce and faint cleaning products filled your nose and you quickly seperated.

You made your way to the fast food aisle, scanning the shelves filled with instant noodles, microwave dinners, and other quick options. You pulled a packet of noodles off the shelf, squeezing it lightly before tossing it into your basket.

Needing some tacos, Cillian joined but then paused beside you, peering into your basket with an amused expression. “You really aren’t going to eat that for dinner, are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto your face. “Why not?" you returned playfully. “It’s quick and easy. Just add hot water and voilà, dinner is served.”

Cillian shook his head slowly, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. “That’s not a dinner. You need something more nutritious to keep up your energy. How about some proper food?”

You chuckled, your gaze darting back to the lineup of instant meals. "It's fine, really. Instant noodles have been my best friend for years," you replied, tossing another packet into the basket for good measure.

Cillian raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as he took in the collection of instant meals. “I’m not letting you eat that," he then determined before making a suggestion.

"How about this—why don’t you join me for dinner? I am cooking anyway and you can leave after, go about your own plans as you please. But at least this way, you can eat something healthy."

You hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected invitation. The prospect of a home-cooked meal sparked a fleeting sense of joy, but you pulled back, a grin playing on your lips.

"Cooking, huh? Look at you going all domestic even after a long day of playing a gangster," you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Cillian laughed, his eyes glinting with appreciation. “Trust me, I can whip up a mean chilli con-carne. Despite, I find cooking therapeutic," he said before he paused, scanning the shelves again. “It helps me to clear my head after a long day," he explained as he selected a a few more items and tossed them into his basket. "So, what do you say?" he asked and you studied him for a moment, weighing the prospect of good food against the allure of your usual routine.

Cillian’s sincerity felt refreshing, and the idea of breaking away from instant noodles was oddly tempting .

"Alright, you’ve convinced me,” you finally agreed, a grin breaking out on your face. “I’ll join you for dinner," you said, your excitement bubbling like the instant noodles you were used to.

Cillian beamed, the tension in his shoulders easing as if a weight had been lifted. “Great! Let's just get some more things and go. It's getting late," he told you, causing you to chuckle again.

"It's not even seven o'clock," you countered, your laughter fading as you followed him through the aisles, watching as he thoughtfully selected fresh vegetables and spices for his dish.

Once done, Cillian paid and you headed straight to his apartment which, not to your suprise, was much bigger than yours.

"Now, tell me what I can do," you said, looking around as Cillian led the way into his spacious kitchen, adorned with sleek cabinets and modern appliances. "I may as well learn something while I’m here."

Cillian chuckled, setting the bags down on the counter with a soft thud. “You want me to teach you how to cook?" Cillian clarified with an amused twinkle in his eye.

“Absolutely,” you replied, leaning against the counter as you watched him pull out a cutting board and knives.

Cillian grinned, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he began to unpack the groceries. “Alright then, first things first—chop up these vegetables,” he said, pulling out a variety of colorful bell peppers and an onion. He handed you a knife, placing a cutting board in front of you.

"Consider it done," you said, grabbing the knife with confidence. You sliced into the onion, the crisp sound filling the kitchen as you focused intently on your task, trying to mimic Cillian’s precise chopping techniques. Cillian moved about the kitchen, his presence both calming and exhilarating. With every slice of the knife, you could feel the rhythm settling in, the usual chatter of nerves pushed aside.

“Not bad for a novice,” Cillian commented, glancing over at you while tossing the chopped peppers into a sizzling frying pan. The aroma of the vegetables mingled with the heat radiating from the stove as they began to soften.

"Thanks," you murmured, your ears flushing with pride at his compliment. “You make it look easy.”

Cillian chuckled, stirring the contents in the pan with finesse, steam rising and swirling around him.

“Practice makes perfect,” he said, glancing your way with an encouraging smile and, once the chilli was cooking, he turned back towards you.

“Now tell me, what did you think about your first day on set?" he asked and you paused, considering your answer.

“It was definitely overwhelming at first,” you admitted, your fingers stilling over the vegetables. “Walking onto that set, seeing everyone bustling about, I felt like a deer caught in headlights. There’s just so much energy and you can sense the weight of expectations in the air.”

Cillian nodded, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, a look of understanding crossing his face. “That’s the nature of this business. The moment you step onto set, it feels like you carry everyone's ideas and needs along with you."

You nodded, letting his words sink in. “Right? But once I got into the groove of my scenes, it all sort of faded away. The adrenaline kicked in, and I felt more like myself," you finished, a content smile spreading across your face.

Cillian's gaze softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. “Well, for what it's worth, you did incredibly well for your first day," he encouraged you thoughtfully but, even before you could respond to him, you felt a little dizzy.

You paused, blinking rapidly as the colors around you blurred for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Cillian asked, concern edging into his voice as he turned his full attention to you, noticing you turning pale.

“ I'm fine,” you insisted, forcing a smile that felt thin at the edges. “Just a little lightheaded, I think.”

Cillian's blue eyes narrowed, studying you intently. “ "You don’t look fine," he said, shifting closer, concern knitting his brows together. "Have you had your insulin?" he asked and you swallowed hard, your heart racing as you realised how closely he observed you.

“Um, not for a bit,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced down, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“Not for a bit?” His tone escalated, disbelief evident in his voice. “Where is it?" he asked and you hesitated, the urgency thick in the air as you flicked your eyes toward your bag, which you had left near the front door.

“I just... I figured I wouldn't need it for another couple of hours,” you stammered, guilt creeping into your voice as you felt his eyes bore into you.

"Come on, lie down on the couch for a minute while I get it," Cillian insisted, his voice firm yet gentle as he guided you to the living room, his hand resting on your back with a surprising warmth.

You sank into the plush couch, exhaling shaky breaths as the world slowly came back into focus. Cillian hurried off into the hallway, leaving you alone for a moment. The quiet of the apartment wrapped around you, and you closed your eyes, trying to breathe through the wave of dizziness that had washed over you.

Cillian returned moments later, his expression a mixture of focus and worry. He held your insulin pen in one hand, the tiny device feeling almost foreign as he approached.

"I need the monitor too," you murmured, your voice steadying as you reached for your bag. Cillian's eyes never left you, concern etched across his handsome features.

"What about your new monitor? The one that hooks in all the time?" he asked as he looked through your bag quickly and then found it tucked away in a pocket. He held it up with a hint of authority, as if success depended on this small device.

"I took it off for filming," you admitted, a sheepish grin escaping your lips. “Didn’t want to deal with the wires showing through my outfit.”

"Jesus Y/N," he groaned, his voice tinged with frustration but laced with concern. He set the monitor down and focused on you, his blue eyes intense. “You’ve got to take this more seriously," he lectured you just as your father would before reaching for your hand.

"Give me your index finger," he demanded gently.

With reluctant compliance, you extended your finger, feeling the warmth of his hand linger against yours.

Cillian pressed the small lance against your fingertip, the quick sting almost pleasant in its urgency. He squeezed gently until a bead of blood formed, then swiftly positioned the glucose monitor over it.

He then placed the strip into the monitor, his eyes flicking to the screen as the numbers displayed steadily counted down.

"How often do you check this?" he asked, his voice steady, though you could hear the underlying tension in his tone.

"Usually before I eat," you replied, watching him with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. “Sometimes after if I feel off, but…” you said as you let your voice trail off, the weight of your admission hanging in the air, palpable and heavy.

"What does it say?" you then asked and Cillian’s focus remained fixed on the screen, his brow creasing as he showed you, not really understanding the numbers.

Cillian held the monitor out, his frown deepening and you blinked at the glowing digits, your heart sinking.

"Pass me the pen," you instructed, your voice steady yet urgent. Cillian hesitated for just a moment, his expression marking concern, but then he handed it to you without question.

You grabbed it, twisting off the cap with precision. You could feel Cillian's gaze on you, the weight of his worry tangible in the air as you prepared to inject the insulin.

You lifted your shirt slightly , exposing a small area of skin on your abdomen. You quickly pushed the needle into the soft flesh, the sting a familiar sensation that calmed your racing thoughts.

Cillian shifted closer, his presence almost enclosing you like a protective barrier as you pressed down on the plunger, delivering the dose with a steadiness you’d practiced countless times before.

"All done," you murmured, placing the pen down on the coffee table, your breath gradually evening out as you felt the tension in your system loosen.

Cillian remained close, his expression softening as he watched you. “You had me worried there for a second,” he admitted, a hint of relief breaking his serious demeanor, his deep blue eyes momentarily shimmering with concern.

"Sorry to cause a panic," you replied, letting out a shaky laugh as you settled back into the couch, the tension in your body easing just a little.

You chuckled softly, the unease slowly fading as you caught Cillian's eye.

"Just relax for a bit now, okay?" Cillian said, his hand hovering near yours in a gentle reminder. “I’ll finish up the dinner, and you can sit here until you feel better.”

"Okay, thank you," you replied, sinking further into the soft cushions as relief gradually washed over you. Cillian’s reassurance wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and you took a moment to breathe as you watched him head back to the kitchen, still wearing that focused expression. He moved with an ease that suggested this was a routine for him, perhaps a dance he had perfected over years of solitary dinners between shoots.

The sizzle of the frying pan mingled with the soft murmur of a cooking show blaring from the television, a comforting backdrop to the evening. You relaxed into the couch, the softness pulling at you as you let your mind wander in the stillness of the moment.

It felt strange to be here, sharing a meal with Cillian, your best friend's father, without her being here too. It felt wrong somehow, but you actually enjoyed his company.

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[xazse]

mr compress x kittygirl hybrid! reader and i will worship the ground you walk 😣😣🙏🙏🙏

SWEET GIRL

Synopsis: Mr.Compress feels a certain inkling and intensity within himself.

Notes: this is great I know you just submitted this really recent but I wanted to let some of my fans know that I will now write for MHA!!! SEND ME SOME STUFF (don’t worry to my others who have sent jjk requests I’m working on them<333)) (sorry I just had to do something with the league and them meeting kitty girl)

Pairings: Mr.Compress x KittyGirl!Hybrid

Warnings: Smut + mean!League Members + rough handling + rough kissing + fingering + penetration + Fem!reader + Hybrid!reader

Mr.Compress had dragged in another stray: you he had known for at least a month before introducing you to the league. He found you digging through some rubble searching for food. He had felt extremely bad and just felt the need to take you.

So that’s what he did, he took you and you didn’t fight at all he just went, scooped you up. You looked a tad bit confused but when he gave you some food you were attached, he gave you plenty of opportunities to leave but every time you’d look around for him and once you found him you’d loop your arms with his and follow. It was downright adorable.

After some time had passed he chose to introduce you to his beloved league.

“She looks stupid, get her out.”

“That’s so mean Tomura! I think she looks adoreable!”

“You are very right Toga, Shigaraki isn’t used to cutesy things.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The blue haired man exclaimed from the bar.

“Why not give er’ a change Shigaraki? She could prove to be useful.” Spinner is always trying to be the middle man, Mr.Compress can certainly rely on him to get you in good with everyone.

“Useful my ass.” Dabi’s the one who speaks up.

“It wouldn’t be wise for you to talk, you’re in the same boat as her.” Shigaraki backfires.

“Tried to help you, dick.”

It hadn’t even been 40 minutes sitting as the league chats and discusses various things, Toga and Twice won’t leave you alone they insist on playing with your tail and rubbing your pointy ears: pushing them back just to watch them pop right back in place.

You aren’t complaining one bit, you love the extra attention they’re giving you, you can’t quite make out what they’re saying but nonetheless you know it’s nothing but sweet words minus twice sometimes blurting random crude things.

Leaving them proves to be the worst, “tears” are exchanged when Mr. Compress is ready to depart and you have to leave the new friends you just made. He reassures you that you’ll be able to see everyone again very soon.

Mr compress loves you a tenth fold you’re impressed by his tricks others find to be unfunny but you will sit for hours and watch him show off, clapping with the biggest smile on your cute face. It drives him mad to have his own personal fan.

It makes his cock throb when he’s doing one of his tricks and you look so curious to find out what’s next, he can’t focus on finishing it when you’re swooning right in front of him, he basically attacks you with sloppy kisses.

His thick tongue invades your mouth, his actions aren’t careful, he needs to be inside you right now.

He sits on his hind legs and traps you with his thighs on either side. He takes his hard cock out and jerks himself a few times right over your exposed stomach. you’ve all of a sudden gone shy on him, trying to avoid the intense way he’s staring down at you.

He stops for a moment to rid you of your bra, then your panties whilst also undressing himself fully too.

Even after all this time you’re still hiding your body from him like he hasn’t explored every single inch of you. He pays that no mind and moves to rub your cunt, he makes sure not to directly touch your clit.

He moves his skillful fingers around your lips, dipping in and out of your hole to get you used to the feeling. Sweet moans slip from your throat, your breath hitches everytime he so much as grazes the englared bud.

Impatient Compress starts full on fucking you with his fingers, he has to use a little of his strength to keep your leg nice and still for him. You’re full on moaning, it feels so damn good, the way his fingers abuse your wet hole in the meanest motions he can muster.

He makes eye contact with you when he pulls his fingers out and licks them, making sure to clean them dry.

He’s got you plenty wet, he rubs the tip of his cock in between your lips even touching your sensitive clit, he hadn’t even made you cum and you’re already so jumpy.

His thick cock starts to push inside you, slowly filling you of him, taking him is no walk in the park, he’s more long than anything, you grip whatever you can as he pushes past your tight hole.

Atsuhiro lets you adjust to him, he can hear slight sniffling from you, poor thing, he’ll make you happy in just a moment: that moment being now, he pushes your legs a little towards your torso angling his cock more snuggly.

Atushiro is never one to rush sex with you, he likes to be in the moment so he can enjoy and really feel you but now he can’t wait, he starts thrusting fast and deep, your fat cunt accepting every inch so easily now.

He’s been obsessed with your pussy the first day you and him had sex, you’re so tight and warm, he draws his hips back all the way letting his cock fall out to admire the slick it’s covered in, just to slam right back into you.

“Nnng..”

“Feels… so good Sako..” your moans sound so choked up in your throat, making you all the more desperate for more clearly.

His face is a beautiful shade of pink, groans mixed with yours slipping from his bitten lips, you truly don’t know the effects your cunt has on him, everytime he pulls back you suck him right back in.

Your tail has a mind of its own when it wraps around his torso, moving along with the rhythm of his hips.

You wipe the tears that have found their way to your face, your body spasms in that familiar way, along with your pussy tightening even more around him. He holds you down by your tummy, securing you in place so you don’t thrash everywhere.

He slams down in you one last time, pushing you right over the edge you cum with a loud yelp followed by quiet whines that die down, through this whole thing he’s praising you, kissing your soddened cheeks.

Your chest rapidly tries to calm down, feeling the aftershocks of a nasty orgasm.

Later that night he makes sure to rub your pointy ears and cuddle you as close as possible.

[minty-thereader]

GOJO x READER

“She’d Rather Die.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Soooo wanna go on a date?” The young 19 year old Gojo Satoru asked sitting opposite you, facing the wrong side of the chair with his chin rested on his hands. You never once looked up from your book, your eye twitched with annoyance, continuing to ignore the popular white haired player.

Gojo looked from your book and back to your face. “How To Get Away With Murder..nice book. I read it like, five times. Who’s your favorite character?” “The murderer.” You grumbled, slamming your book shut as the instructor for the day walked in to give out your assignments.

“Look alive sorcerers! We’ve got plenty of reports today for minor spirits so you’ll be split into threes! And I don’t care if you don’t like your partner, the higher ups arranged your teammates, not me.” The bald teacher said handing out everyone’s slip of paper. You didn’t want to read yours knowing you’d already been paired with Gojo and his best friend Geto Suguru. “Would you look at that doll! You and I are paired up yet again!” Gojo tells you with the biggest smile, the brightest any has ever made him smile!

You wished that this day would just hurry up and end. “Oh yay,” sarcasm laced your tone and you grabbed your belongings, leaving before the two besties could meet up and discuss plans. You did not like Gojo, and if I said it before or not I’m repeating it! Did. Not.

Your dislike stemmed from your first meeting. You were new to the school and you just so happened to bump into the white haired man, when you wanted instructions on where to get to your first class! Gojo, full of energy grabbed your book and signed it with a smirk saying, ‘here baby! An autograph for you too!’ And that’s when you started to resent him. You really didn’t like arrogant men and he was sooo full of it.

Gojo liked that you didn’t want him too, which made him want you more! That’s why he would ask you to go out with him every time you guys got the chance to interact.

Some time passed and the three of you were outside of school on your way to complete your mission. A house was supposedly haunted and there was a child that behaved out of order when these haunting occurred; your jobs were to get rid of that spirit. Geto and Gojo giggled like two school girls as they talked about the most random of stuff behind you, causing your irritation to grow.

Not only was he arrogant but he was also really strong, so him being strong made being stuck with him on a mission feel like it was just child’s play to him. “Can you two take one mission seriously for once?” You asked them without turning back. Geto smirked at Gojo and gave him a shove, encouraging him to talk to you since you opened the gates for interaction. “Uhh-huh! I could definitely take the mission more seriously if you’d let me take you out.”

You scrunch your nose to show clear signs of disgust. “I would rather a giant monster with eight legs bite my head off, than go out with you.” Gojo gasped dramatically. Hey! In his defense this was the first time you’ve ever payed him any real attention!

“Whether you’re being sarcastic or not I would personally never let a thing happen to you y/n.” Gojo says with a kind smile, he tilts his glasses down to show off his striking blue eyes. You looked away quickly just as he did so. That was his signature flirty move, showing off his freaky eyes. So many women were caught with them, and you promised yourself not to be one of them.

“Let’s see if you’ll stick by your word.” You told him with a plain look on your face. While you walked up and away Geto nudged the man. “She likes you, she just doesn’t know it yet,” he encourages. “You think so? I do like it when they play hard to get~.” He sang out loud so you could hear. When you three finally neared the house, there was a strange smell that came out of it.

Everyone held their nose and you took a few steps back from the door, turning to talk to the men. “This place has a very strong evil scent.” The men nodded, agreeing. “Right, let’s get this over with—” Gojo and Geto watched with shocked eyes when a giant gray hand stuck out of the door and grabbed a hold of you, before pulling you in with the same speed. The once broken door repaired because of the curse. The men looked at each other, finding their voice before running after you and yelling your name.

Stuck in the hands of the enemy you freaked out. You had no idea what to do against this curse and you weren’t sure if it was a level 2 curse or a level 3. Scared you started to panic; what if this thing decided that he’d just eat you? You whimper feeling the creature breath against your head. With newfound strength you focused on your cursed energy to flow throughout your body, remembering that you could do that, and your body slowly became a liquid like puddle. The level 2/3 curse stared with awe watching you just lay there as a puddle, your clothes just floating around like that before you went skidding across the wooden floor to escape it!

On the other side of the room you were in, was where the men resided. Gojo placed his ear to the wall listening for anything strange or unusual, looking out for you. The slush like noise of water moving made him step back and summon cursed energy to his finger tips, ready to blast whatever it may be. Your body came seeping through the cracks, and then WAM! Straight into the arms of the player!

Everyone in the room made a small yelping sound except you, who wasn’t aware of what was happening. You look up into Gojo’s eyes, surprised but then relaxed. “It took you fools long enough!” Gojo’s stiff body confused you. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, watching his face turn pink and sweat roll down his face. “Your clothes,” he said, his voice had a little quiver to it, “you’re naked.” You were now reacting just like him. Geto coughed hard, his back turned to the entire situation. Quickly Gojo took his shirt off and gave it to you. “Here!” He says, “I don’t wanna look. I can’t disgrace you like that. Please put my shirt on quickly.”

You grabbed it and did as told, staring off at the wooden floor with multiple thoughts flooding your head. You snap out of it for a second to look back at the men quickly, “Oh! Before anything else the curse is in the next room and I think it’s a level 2!” Geto shrugs, “not a big deal, right Gojo?” Gojo winds his arms, “nope, not a big deal at all!” They both walk over to the wall and Gojo placed his hand on it watching the wall crumble to reveal the curse. You watched in awe as they both attacked the curse at the same time, a bright smile on Gojo’s face while his bestie looked bored. You couldn’t compare to these two! It was embarrassing!

Gojo grabbed the monster by its neck and made it bow to you. “Apologize to the little lady.” The monster growled. Blood trickled down its head and its eyes were missing. “Blah blah! I don’t care if you can’t talk! You can understand me just enough and you know exactly the situation you’re in.” Gojo taunted. “Gojo, it’s alright. It’s just a stupid curse, just kill it.” Gojo shook his head a no at your reaction and his smile got brighter. “I wanna hear it beg a little first. Go on buddy! Beg! Say you’re sorry!” The monster again growled, and when it started shrieking you just outstretched your hand and closed it, using cursed energy to squeeze its body with an invisible force and its body went everywhere.

You and Gojo stared at each other, eyes boring into each other before Geto broke it up by walking out the house. “Gonna thank me for saving you?” Gojo asked with a smile, clearly teasing. “Nope. I’d rather die.” “You almost did.” Gojo pointed back at the house while Geto talked to the owners of it. The curse was dead and the family was no longer gonna be haunted, meaning mission complete! Gojo wrapped his arms around you holding you closer so his shirt was more secure on you. “…thank you.” You muttered when you two made it to a little hospital van that pulled up. Gojo gave you a pat on the head and nodded, “you’re welcome doll! And hey, keep the shirt.”

You smiled at him when he said that but deep down you were annoyed yet again, because you knew he would not let this rescue go.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-seven | out of the grave, into the woods.

It’s September 9th, and two days have passed since Percy. Chiron tells you to have hope; maybe he escaped before the place went kaboom. You didn’t see a body, so you should keep the hope alive. You viciously respond that no, there wouldn’t be a body if it was blown to a million pieces, would there?

You eat more than you ever have. The week that passed in the maze had been particularly busy, so much so you’d scarcely had time to eat anything proper. It’s nice to stuff your face, sitting with Annabeth in comfortable silence.

Everyone knows. Everybody knows what happened, by September 9th. Chiron holds a small meeting and explains exactly what happened to the others. Some suggest sending searchers down into the maze to continue what you couldn’t, but Chiron declines the suggestion under the excuse that it’s too dangerous as of late. Percy will turn up eventually, he concludes.

“Have faith,” he sighs, looking around the room. His eyes land on you, where you sit with folded arms and bloodshot eyes nestled between Annabeth and Travis.

It’s hard to do when your mother refuses to answer your prayers. You pray every night for Grover and Percy’s safe return, all week, every morning. You beg any god that will listen to just grant you this one thing, and allow Percy to still be breathing. A tense week passes, and at the week mark—September 14th—since you came out of the maze, hope is beginning to wane. You see it in Chiron’s face with every falsely enthusiastic speech, and in your friends. Annabeth helps you to make a new weapon in the armoury, a lean, light sword made of celestial bronze. You’re working on convincing one of the other campers to charm it to make it smaller, taking inspiration from Riptide. Convenience is key.

By September 15th, people have lost hope. A whole week of people trying to come home should have shown some signs, at least. Another week passes, with no such luck. And then a third. You barely move from the Big House, not really feeling much up to participating in activities and practice fights. You’re just getting into reading a new book, scrunched up in the chair on the porch, when Chiron approaches you, with a solemn look on his face.

“Another book?” He tries for a smile. You see right through him, raising your eyes above the line of your book. There seem to be more stress lines under his eyes. “That’s the third this week alone.”

You raise it a little higher. “I like reading. You can get lost in books pretty easy.”

“I like a good read myself,” he admits. “Maybe not three six-hundred-pagers a week, though.”

Now, you do smile. Just a little.

“I didn’t come here just to halt your peace, my dear. I wanted to talk to you about Percy, and Grover.”

Of course. It’s all anybody wants to talk about with you.

You snap shut the book and pay Chiron all your attention. “Okay.”

He eyeballs the ground for a second. “I think it’s time that we begin to build up a burial shroud for Percy, and begin the proceedings for Grover. Three weeks is…it is unlikely for them to come back to us now. A week, a week and a half at most, is the usual waiting time for heroes to return. I’ve seen this many times before, my dear. Three weeks is too long. It’s time we pay our respects to our friends.”

It’s a hard pill to swallow. You feel your heart stammer in the ribcage, tiny shooting pains going haywire. You’ve had these pains all of three weeks—Chiron calls them a reaction to stress, and grief. It’s why he encouraged so much rest, so little training. Your eyes fill with strong tears and your throat thickens.

“Okay,” you manage. A leaded weight pulls your innards down, and something else grinds them together. You feel overcome with hopelessness, a feeling alike deep and terrible sadness, gut-wrenching. You only want to cry until you can’t cry anymore.

“As Percy’s longest friend,” he continues with a hard swallow, “I wanted to ask you personally, if you’d like to create his burial shroud. As an honor to him.”

You want, in that moment, your dad. You want the comfort of a parent, even though you know you won’t get so much as a hug from him. You want home.

You ask Annabeth to help you in making Percy’s burial shroud. A heaviness settles over camp the next day, and everyone you talk to or pass by offers you a sympathetic look, a hand on the shoulder. Together, you pick out sea-green fabric, and tie in some gentle details of deeper greens and little dashes of blue. You find it in yourself to delve bravely into his left-behind cabin, and dig a seashell from the wall beside the statue of his father. It’s a creamy-pale colour, and lined with streaks of red and pale peach, engrained with bits of sand like it had just come directly from the beach. You weave a few into the fabric until your fingers are sore and pricked with blood. It’s all very factual, death and its proceedings. You find yourself zoning out, staring at the soft material in your hands and thinking of absolutely nothing, at times. Annabeth gently says your name, and pulls the needle from your bloody finger. It takes all day to make it perfect, but you finally complete the burial shroud, and tie it off with a pretty bit of creme ribbon and sea rope.

For Grover, it’s different, and Annabeth carries this one forward better than you because she’d known him for a long time, a hell of a lot longer than you knew Grover. She sits down on the sofa, and almost tears the earthy-green and gold fabric with how forcefully she grips it. Annabeth acts normally, but her lip trembles. She presses them together to stop it, reaching out to the table between you both for the needle.

By evening, just as the sun is going down and the sky is burning orange, you’re finished with Percy’s shroud, and Annabeth is finished with Grover’s. They’re not due to be burned until tomorrow evening, but Chiron said it was in everybody’s best interests to finish them sooner rather than later. It would make the process of burning them a lot easier to handle, apparently. You’re but a second away from blowing up, taking action with screaming and hacking at the strawberry fields; so, anything to lighten the situation, really.

“We should really get some food before curfew,” Annabeth set aside Grover’s shroud. “C’mon. They’ll be looking for us if we don’t turn up, and you know what Travis has been like, worrying this week.”

You huff a short laugh. “Guy hasn’t stopped.”

It was true. He’d been so attentive to your every want and thought that you felt somewhat guilty for dropping him the way you had done to accompany Percy into the maze. You felt like such a terrible friend, recently. But if Travis was holding it against you, he didn’t show it a bit. Ever the selfless.

Your stomach growls painfully, prompting you to stand and hold Percy’s shroud for another second or so, before dropping it safely next to Grover’s. The silky material slips from your fingers and hits the table carefully. The clock above the door tells you it’s nearly seven o’clock at night, and you haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.

Annabeth is long gone by the time you force yourself to leave the room. You can see her in the distance, walking to the dining pavilion. You stop against a wall, breathing deeply and exhaling heavily, just taking in the air. It smells of pine trees and strawberries, and something warm. The sky is burnt orange and lined with golden clouds. An otherwise perfect evening, if you weren’t hearing Grover’s voice in the back of your mind.

He’s shouting your name, so distantly it feels like he isn’t even there at all. You wish you could help him. His voice grows louder, and closer. You begin up the hill just as you hear breathing—hard, heaving breathing like the person it’s coming from has ran a marathon.

You spin, somewhat startled, and your jaw drops so hard you think it might have landed in Tartarus. “G—GROVER?!” He’s really here. Really! With sweaty hair, missing a sleeve of his jacket, but he’s here in person. Grover is alive. “Holy cows. Holy cows. Holy cows—”

“I did pray to some holy cows, actually,” he nods out of breath. Grover puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head back. The sun is setting very quickly, and really it’s nothing special tonight compared to every other night, but to Grover, it must be amazing.

All the breath he gets back in his lungs is swiftly knocked right back out again. You lunge for him, the relief falling like a heaviness from your shoulders. Grover is a little bonier under your hugging arms than the last time you were together, but he’s in one piece and here in front of you, and it’s more than you could ask for given the circumstances.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you breathe. With your heart beating ten-to-the-dozen, it’s difficult to discern whether you’re about to have a heart attack, or if you’re developing some sort of condition from all the scares. “Really. It’s good to see you.”

He’s shocked. Of course he is; you’ve barely shown even camaraderie towards Grover before. You think it might be time to change your tune.

“I wasn’t sure you’d gotten out,” he sighed, pulling back. “I’m so sorry for leaving the two of you, but look—I found him. I really did. I found Pan.”

You blanch. Not solely from his insinuation that both you and Percy got out, but that he found what he’d been looking for. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent!”

“We should go tell Chiron, then.”

Heaviness settles in your gut the closer you get to the dining pavilion. You figured that’s where Chiron will be—eating like nothing’s wrong. You haven’t eaten properly in days.

Everybody is seated by the time you arrive. Chiron is, as you’d guessed, at the table and eating as well. It must be the movement from the corner of his eye that turns his head to face you, and it’s a result: he sees Grover; tired, drooping-at-the-shoulders Grover. Chiron stands so abruptly that the table shrieks, the legs scraping against the floor, and campers groan and cover their ears, turning to face the commotion. They follow the leader’s direction, and see him too. The sky is burning, the clouds on fire, and fire in the heart flickers.

A great deal of clamour comes next. It’s all very factual, in the after. They yell Grover’s name and people come running, some in relief, some in disbelief, and some in excitement.

He eats his heart out at the head table, and nobody bothers him. You sit together and for a little while you laugh. Annabeth smiles so hard her cheeks must hurt, and the three of you manage to relieve the last few days and weeks with some joy, especially now Grover has found what he’d been looking for.

It doesnt change the fact that you go to bed with a heavy heart and a sorrowful stomach, and don’t get a wink of good sleep, tossing and turning until the cows come home. When morning comes, you’re sore-eyed and sore of heart, dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt despite the warmth of camp itself. On a day where all eyes will be on you, it’s comforting to feel somewhat sheltered by sleeves and neckline.

You don’t eat breakfast, though your stomach grumbles and whines, and you can barely manage to get a glass of apple juice down. People are casting you looks from every table, because they all know what you’re about to do. After all, his burial shroud is only metres away, folded neatly in a small box before the open fire pit.

Finally, after breakfast of little words to anybody, Chiron smiles somewhat skewedly and directs everyone to crowd at the pit. A few girls from the Aphrodite cabin are crying crocodile tears, pretending they’re oh-so-sad over the loss of Percy, though they haven’t spoken to him before, or if they have—only to ridicule him for tripping during track, or letting an arrow fly too early. Silly little things really, that make Percy, Percy. And you miss him.

You barely notice that Chiron is speaking until he’s finished. The soft blue is in your hands, palms up to the sky. You hope they’re watching.

It smells of smoke that will stick to your hair and clothes, of flames that burn your hands even this far out. Orange, yellow, and wicked red all dancing together in the grate like it’s a terrible little party just for Percy.

You have to clear your throat out hard, it having been in disuse since yesterday. Sets of eyes are on you, big and waiting. A few Aphrodite girls are pulling sneering expressions, because they’re not fans of other girls being the centre of attention.

“Uh—well,” you start, wondering why on earth you hadn’t prepared something earlier. There’s a hard lump in your throat, rolling around and around and around and you think you might choke on it. “Percy was my best friend. He meant a lot to all of us, a great deal, actually. I can’t think of one moment where Percy…”

And suddenly you can’t think at all. There’s pressure behind your eyes burning away like the fire in the grate. Your stomach hurts because you’re so hungry you’re starving. The brain fog because of this is alarming, and you can feel the casual facade start to falter. Why can’t you find the words.

You cough a jarring laugh. Annabeth whispers your name from just the front row, moving to get in your line of vision, concerned. She’s upset but she’s holding it together much better than you are.

The blue in your hands is beginning to absorb the sweat from your skin. “Percy was…there are no words. I think his actions said more, anyway, if I’m honest. Truth be told,” you finally look up from your shaking hands, “truth be told, those of us who knew Percy properly already knew that. Percy was just—”

When you lift your eyes just behind the crowd, you begin to notice something strange. A figure. A boy, in immaculate clothing and tanned like he’d just spent a week at the beach. His shirt is ironed and crisp, and a thin circle of white shells is clasped around a wrist.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Annabeth urges. Her voice shakes when she carefully pulls you aside. “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t fair.”

But your eyes are stuck glued to the boy getting closer, so close that you can make out the green of the eyes you’d recognise absolutely anywhere.

“He’s right there.”

“I know, it’s fine, I can take this.”

She attempts to pry the material from you, but you’re not having it. Clenched in your fists, you nod to the distance, as the lightheaded feeling grows.

“Percy’s here. Percy’s here.”

Heads turn. Bodies shift. Chiron moves through the crowd and pales considerably because he sees what you see. At last, people gasp, people yell out, people rush forward to surround him. But he only has eyes for you, and they’re glossy ones at that.

Your head spins. “Dear god, I think I need to sit down.”

And indeed, down you go.

—

This chapter’s title is taken from the song ‘the let go’ by Elle King. https://youtu.be/RcnUJTIyjXs?si=HO1lzccJfsaF6SbQ (1.18 seconds)

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcillia @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite @randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf @prongsflower @bugszi

[reidtina]

Vodka Girl

Pairing: jack schlossberg x fem!reader

Content warnings: +18 MDI public sex (im only noticing now that thats kind of my thing now lol), vaginal fingering, petnames (vodka girl, pretty girl, whiskey guy), orgasm, alcohol, casual sex (:()

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: Before Jack Schlossberg was the president of the USA and dated Y/N, he was a recent Harvard graduate and she was a Vogue photographer covering an event at the White House.

a/n: this is kind of a prequel to the president!jack fanfictions on my profile, but can also be read independently. repost and like it if you like it, also requests open for jack and spencer reid! and sorry i disappeared, i was kinda unmotivated and didnt have ideas. its on ao3 too

It had been only a few months since you became a photographer for Vogue and you still hadn’t gotten totally used to the fanciness and all the famous and important people you had to photograph, but tonight was especially important, you were covering an event in the White House, which meant having to be around a few of the most important men and women in the whole country. It’s been hours and nothing had gone wrong so far, so you decided to reward yourself with a little drink, who could blame you? You’ve been working for hours and hadn’t eaten or drunken anything so far. So you make your way to the bar and sit down, but before you could order anything a man sat next to you with a beer on his hand and as much as you tried to stay professional, you couldn’t help but notice he was really hot, he had dark hair, was tall, was wearing a suit, well, every men there was, but he looked better than all of them in it. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put a name to the face yet, but considering this was an event for high-classed people, it wasn’t surprising people here looked familiar.

You probably shouldn’t have stared so much at his hands, because he definitely noticed, as he said: “No ring”, which really confused you, and he could see it on your face because he felt the need to explain himself  “I’m sorry, I thought you were checking my fingers for a wedding ring or something, my bad” He said and chuckled embarrassed, making you join him in the laughter.

 “No, I was just impressed with how nice your hands are” the second the words came out of your mouth you wanted to die, why the fuck would anyone say that? Fuck. But somehow that didn’t freak him out or made him get up and leave, instead he laughed and said: “I’m Jack, by the way”

“Y/N.” You smiled politely

“Would you like to come with me, Y/N?” he said near to your ear “This party is so boring” he added. You didn’t know what to do, you were here for work, after all, but it’s been hours and you had taken more than enough photos already, maybe you could give yourself a half hour break. So you nod saying “Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Come on.” he softly laughed as he took you by the hand to the beautiful moonlit garden. He took a deep breath before stopping between a bench and a wall, looking around to check if anyone was looking. He then looked down at the bottle of beer and then at you, smiling before opening the bottle and taking a long sip, making a disgusted face as he pulled it away, “Ah, I hate this stuff.” He chuckled and passed you the bottle.

You take a sip from the bottle as well and agreed saying “Yeah, me too”

He laughed, grabbing the bottle from your hand, putting his lips where yours were just a few moments ago, before taking a sip again, wincing at the bad taste. “I'm more of a whiskey kind of man.” He said, looking at the bottle and then at you with the corner of his eye.

“I’m more of a vodka kind of woman.”

He chuckled again, taking another sip, “Vodka girl, uh?” he said, leaning against the wall and facing you, “Any particular reason why?”

“I like the way it goes down” you say with a smirk, trying to be sexy and funny to impress him. You weren’t usually like this, you tended to act natural around guys, but he’s just so hot you can’t risk being weird or boring.

He smirked too, crossing his arms on his chest and taking another sip before passing you the almost empty bottle. “No reason to be surprised you drink vodka, though, you have the look for it.” he teased, making an obvious look up and down on you.

You tilt your head to the side and raise your eyebrows before asking playfully, yet genuinely curious “What's that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled at your pose, taking the almost empty bottle from your hands before putting it on the bench next to you and taking a step closer. He looked at you up and down once again, a smirk on his lips.

“You look like you have a strong but soft personality, vodka is strong, and you make a soft impression. You also have a sharp gaze.” He said, looking deep into your eyes.

You chuckle, nervous with his sudden closeness “I'll take that”

He smiled, slowly stepping closer until you were pressed against the wall behind you, his hands on each side of you, against the wall, trapping you, but not making full contact with you yet. “So, vodka girl..." he said in a low tone. “What's the story? Here alone?”

“I’m a photographer for Vogue, I’m just covering the event. You?”

He chuckled, slowly resting the tip of his fingers on your hips, moving them slightly to the side, but still keeping a small distance between your bodies.

He looked into your eyes with a smirk on his lips, “I'm just here by myself, politics is a family business, you know?” When he said that, something clicked inside your brain and you realized who he was, he was Jack Schlossberg, JFK’s grandson. “I just graduated college, so now I’m being more active in these kind of events with my family.” His attractiveness was already making you nervous, but now there was his name to make things harder. A Kennedy? Is your dress pretty enough to be around someone like that? How do you even breath? You have to act cool, so you smile. He smiles back “So I see we are the same.” he said  while softly caressing your sides up and down, “Both alone at this boring event, no one is wearing a ring, which means we are both single, right?”

You chuckle, you were so nervous, but he’s so nice, so it’s suddenly easier to breath and so you say “I think so, I am at least”

He smiled once again, tilting his head to the side, “I'm single too.” he said, his voice lower and his eyes never leaving yours. He slowly and softly moved his fingers to your hips, “So both single at a boring event, we came here alone and now we are alone in the garden...”

You smile and say “It looks like it, what do you think about it?”

“I think...” he whispered, his fingers digging into your sides on your hips, “I think a pretty girl like you shouldn't be spending the night alone.”

“Oh, yeah? And how are we going to fix this?” you ask, finally thinking you’re being cool enough. He chuckled and finally moved his body fully in contact with yours, pinning you against the wall by your hips, “I have an idea.” he said in a low tone by your ear, his hands slowly sliding up your sides. “Hm, tell me.” you said, knowing you should stop it, but unable to actually do it.

He smirked, his hands now fully touching your body and his lips close to your ear, “I think we should spend the end of the night together...” he whispered, slowly letting his teeth graze the skin on your neck. You smirk “Sounds good to me” no, it doesn’t, what the fuck are you doing, Y/N? You’re working here, for fuck’s sake, why did you say that it’s good?

He smiled and slowly left a trail of kisses on your neck, his body pressing against you even more. “I'm glad you agree, vodka girl.” This nickname made you feel things that you probably shouldn’t be feeling right here, right now, but it’s impossible to contain it when a man this hot is around you. He slowly began moving his lips up to your jawline, “So we have a plan for the night, hm?”

“Yeah, we do, whiskey guy” you hope the nickname does the same to him as it did to you.  He chuckled against your skin, “I love that nickname.” he said before putting his hand under your chin and tilting your head slightly to the side, allowing access to more of your neck. He began leaving a few more kisses on the side of your neck, his hand leaving your chin and slowly moving down your body, his fingers tracing your shape.

He began moving back to your ear, his hot breath against your skin as he whispered, “I have one rule, vodka girl.” His fingers played with the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up and exposing more skin, touching it ever so softly. This was so, so wrong but so hard to resist, so you can’t help the words “And what is it?” from coming out of your mouth. He slowly lifted your leg up with his free hand, his fingers digging into your skin while lifting it and pinning it against the wall between his body and yours. So, so wrong.  He looked into your eyes as he leaned closer, his face millimeters from yours, almost touching your lip, “You have to be silent.”

Okay, it’s beyond wrong, but it’s so hot. “What? You’re going to do me here?” You ask, still a little nervous and surprised.  He smirked, taking your earlobe between his teeth and slowly started moving his hand further up on your leg, his touch leaving you craving more. “Can you be quiet?” he whispered, his lips just above your neck. Fuck it, you only live once or whatever.

“That depends on how good you are” you finally gave in to your desires. He chuckled, moving his hand even further up your leg, the thin fabric of your dress the only thing stopping him from touching you. “Oh, pretty girl, you don't know the limits to my good time.” he said as he started slowly leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your jaw. “Then I can't promise i can be quiet, I might have to bite you to keep my mouth shut” you smirked. He bit his lip, moving his hand to your hip and pressing his body against yours, the pressure almost making you gasp but you somehow managed to stay silent. “Bite whatever you want, vodka girl, but keep quiet, we're out in the open after all. We wouldn't want to get caught.” He leaned his face closer to you, his nose almost touching yours, “Unless...” he paused, his voice low and seductive, “Unless you don't mind being heard, hm?”

That question brought out a seductive chuckle from you and you asked him: “Does the idea of me being loud out here in public risking getting caught turn you on?” He groaned lowly as he heard the question, his eyes closing from the sound of your chuckle, “You have no idea...” he said, his voice shaky now. His body was fully pressed against yours, and you can feel exactly how it affected him, especially on the spot under his belt.

You fake innocence while playing with his tie. He swallowed hard, feeling you slowly toying with his tie as he tried to form words in his mind, the heat of your touch making it hard to think. He needed no further invitation, the look on your eyes was enough to know you wanted him as much as he wanted you, so he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to a more secluded part of the garden, far away from any guests or cameras, making sure no one could see you.

“You asked for it, vodka girl.” He said as he gently sat you down on a soft patch of grass next to a wall, his body covering yours as he pinned you against the ground, his body pressed between your legs, and his lips just above your neck. He began attacking your neck with kisses, his tongue and teeth now on your skin. He whispered, his breath hot against your ear, “Now be quiet.”

You chuckle as you say “Whatever you say, boss”. He smirked as the sound of your words hit his ear, moving his lips to your ear, “That's a good girl.” He whispered into it. He started leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and across your collarbone while slowly moving his hands to the hem of your dress, slipping his hands underneath the thin fabric.

His touch was light and teasing, slowly moving up higher on your legs, “I want to hear those pretty little moans of yours, pretty girl.” he whispered against your neck, his fingers digging into the skin on your leg.

“Then touch me and make me cry out for you” you said, getting bolder and bolder as desire began taking over you, unable to contain yourself, even knowing the dangers of keeping it going, this was John Fucking Kennedy's grandson after all, your grandma probably had the hots for his grandpa and now he was here, about to fuck you.

“With pleasure.” he said as he began moving his hands higher, his fingers feeling your skin as they inched upward, slowly but getting closer to where you craved him. Thankfully you were wearing good underwear. He began sucking on your neck, leaving hickeys where your hair would cover later, thankfully, but still making sure he left his mark as he finally reached the edge of your underwear, “I want to hear you, vodka girl. I want to hear all the pretty noises you make when I touch you. But only I can hear it, got it?” You nod and beg: “Please.” He chuckled, his breath hot against your ear, "Please what, pretty girl?" he teased, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.

“Please, just touch me” you ask impatiently.

He smiled against your neck, enjoying the way you're melting under his touch. ”Say, please again and I'll give you exactly what you want.” he whispered, his fingers still tracing up and down the edge of your underwear. “Please, I need your fingers deep inside me” you begged, too horny to feel embarrassed. He smirked, his lips hovering over your ear, “That's a good girl.” He didn't make you wait any longer, his hands finally moving where you wanted him, a soft moan escaping your lips almost immediately as his fingers found your entrance and started moving in and out of you. He groaned as you let out a sound, his body still pressing against yours as much as it could “Careful, pretty girl. You don't want to be too loud.” He began slowly and gently caressing your clit with his thumb while still moving his fingers in and out of you, his touch soft but firm, making sure to build up the tension. His lips left your ear and you pull him in for a kiss to try and stay quiet.

He was caught off guard by your sudden pull but quickly melted into the kiss, his tongue slipping through your lips, tasting you, and exploring the inside of your mouth while his hand continued exploring your pussy. You moan softly through the kiss and he lets out a low growl, the sound of your moan only driving him further. He continued to kiss you, his tongue tangled with yours, while his free hand slowly moved up your body, touching and exploring every inch of you. He muttered between kisses, his voice low and ragged, “You taste so good, vodka girl. You made my night"

“Can you please fuck me?” You ask without thinking of the consequences, right now nothing else mattered, only having his dick deep inside you. He groaned at your question, his body reacting to your words and the sound of your panting. “What a polite woman asking ‘please’.” he said, his voice low and seductive, the sound of it sending a shiver through you. He whispered in your ear, “Do you wanna feel me, vodka girl?” to which you couldn't say anything other than “Yes, please.” He smirked, slowly moving his fingers away from your body, leaving you craving his touch.

He let out a deep-throated chuckle, his breath warm against your ear, “You're such a good girl, so I'm going to give you exactly what you want.” his words made your body build up with anticipation.

He began gently biting and sucking on your neck, but making sure not to leave marks where your hair wouldn't cover later, while his hands began to move down, slowly pushing up the fabric of your dress. “Do you have a condom?” you ask and he chuckled, slowly pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. “I do." he said, his voice low and seductive, "I always come prepared.”

You roll your eyes playfully “To this kind of event? What a man whore.” as much as you were joking, you couldn't help but feel a bit of jealousy, you must be sick. He laughed, pinning you to the ground again, his body entirely covering yours, “I can't resist when I'm around a beautiful woman like you, vodka girl. You make me weak”

You pushed any jealousy away and asked “Then please fuck me already”

He moved closer to your ear, whispering, “When you ask like that, how can I say no, vodka girl?” and you take it as your sign to start unbuckling his belt, he lets out a sharp gasp at the feeling of your hands on his pants. “Eager, are we?” he said in a low tone, his breathing getting heavier with the way you were touching him. You roll your eyes and tease “Oh, shut up, we have to be quick, you know that” He chuckled “You're quite feisty, vodka girl. I like that.” He leaned in closer, his face hovering millimeters from yours, “But not that quick, though. I'm going to make sure you remember my name when we're done.” he said it as if you could forget him, but his words send shivers up your spine either way and you reply in a whisper “Just quick enough to make sure we don't get caught.”

”Don't worry, pretty girl. I'm used to multitasking. I'll make sure you're completely satisfied, and we won't be caught.” as he finishes that sentence he pulls out a condom from his pocket and pulls his pants just down enough to take his cock out, and fuck, what a dick, it was big and thick, and you knew it'd hit just the right spots. He smirked, his eyes fixed on you as he quickly rolls the condom onto himself, when he's ready he positions himself between your legs, his body pressing yours down, his eyes holding an intense look of hunger and desire, “Are you ready, vodka girl?”

You nod, not finding the words, but that was all the invitation he needed, as he slowly pushed your panties to the side and began pushing it inside you, when he felt how thigh your pussy was, he groaned, the sound deep and full of the need he had for you. Once he had already entered all his length in you, he started moving himself against you, his eyes locked on yours, “Say my name. I want to hear you.” You moan softly at his request “Jack, please”

His body shuddered from the sound of his name on your lips. ”That's a good girl” he said in a low voice. “Say it again.”

“Jack, we have to be quiet” you moan between thrusts.

He started moving a little faster, his body pressed against yours as he whispered, “You're just too sexy, I can't resist you.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him even closer, “You're unbelievable, vodka girl.”

He continued to move inside of you, his body pressing against yours, both your breathes heavy and ragged. “You feel so good. I can't get…” He couldn't find the words to speak as the pleasure continued to build up between you. He was close, and he knew you were close to the edge too. He groaned, his body shuddering, “You're so perfect. I can't hold back anymore. Say my name once again”

“Jack” you moan softly into his ear and the sound of your voice mixed with your hot breath into his ear make his body shudder with release, and he whispers your name back in your ear over and over as the waves of pleasure wash over him.

He collapses on top of you, panting and trying to catch his breath, “You're incredible, Y/N. I wasn't expecting anything like this tonight.” You try to catch your breath as you pull the hem of your dress down again and pull your panties back to their place. He gently rolls onto his back beside you, still catching his breath, and turns to look at you as he removes the condom and pulls his pants up. He smiles, his eyes still holding a hint of desire and satisfaction. “You're quite the troublemaker, vodka girl.” he teased, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face with his free hand.

“I could same the same about you, whiskey guy.”

He chuckled, rolling onto his side to face you. “Me, a troublemaker? I'm innocent.” he says, giving you an mock innocent look before grinning and reaching out to trace a finger along your cheek, “You're the one who got me all worked up, pretty girl.”

As a little bit of reasoning thinking washes over you, you say: “Maybe we should get back to the party now, we can't risk someone seeing us lying down on the garden.” He sighs, reluctantly agreeing “You're right. We can't risk getting caught.”

He sits up, buckling his belt and straightening his hair, before making a knot on the used condom and putting it into his pocket. “Well, this is kinda gross” he laughs and offers you the other hand. “But let's head back in and try to look innocent.” You take his hand while laughing and get up.

He leads you back to the inside, his hand still holding yours. As you enter the room again, you both try to act nonchalant, like nothing happened, but nobody seems to have noticed your absence either way. He whispers to you, trying not to attract attention, “We gotta act natural, vodka girl. Don't want to raise suspicion.” The fact that he’s worrying now when he’s then one that initiated the whole thing makes you chuckle and you say “I think we’re in the clear now”

He chuckles too, the tension of getting caught slowly fading away. “You’re right, looks like we’re in the clear” he agreed after looking around the room. “So, I think I should try to get back to the boring conversations, but before I go, can I get your number?” he asked and after you gave it to him and got back to work, he spent the rest of the night thinking about you, looking around the room, hoping to get a glance of you.

[katerinaaqu]

It's hard talking about the disrespect to Greek mythology and religion when every argument people brings to the table is "look at this original novel that is adapted into a movie that is turned into a tv show that didn't follow the original plot" as if the Greek culture is on par with fictional story instead of a tradition and heritage of real life people.

A media that is broadcast to the public and make accessible to everyone that erased the values and lesson of a cultural story still can do harm when it feeds misunderstanding and misinterpretion of the culture it originated from.

Greek people has the right to be upset when their culture keeps getting misrepresented, doesn't matter the good intentions behind it, why must it be at the expense of Greek culture?

You can create arts that is so beautiful and so praises by many, and years from now you could look back and see what an amazing experience and community you have created out of it. But at the same time you also continue feeding the distorted ideas and flawed understanding about a culture as a whole.

All because you took from a culture and want to tell your own story.

Retelling is telling back the story. Any addition or new ideas you bring is when there's part in the original story that is vague or open for interpretations. Even then, when you elaborate, you follows the already presented ideas that the original story already established.

If it so beloved to you and so meaningful to you, why couldn't you be faithful when adapting and retelling with the talents you have?

Shouldn't it be better if you created an original story inspired by it? If you feels that the values and standards are not to your taste, but you so loved the stories and could related to it, isn't it better to create original characters and settings with your own voice and narrative with the story inspiration as the backdrop?

At this point, what is greek mythology and lore to you? That makes you so passionate so inspired, that spark your imagination that encourage you to be creative but it is at the ruin of old age history that is meaningful for the Greek identity. Do you really appreciate the values and moral that you gained from the stories, or did you forget yourself along the way?

I couldn't have said it better! I agree to all that because that is exactly my sentiment as well! On one hand of course I am proud that Greek mythology contnues to inspire and people want to create stuff on them or that even now there are people who think the values of Greek Mythology are universal and they are!

But as you said it pains me to no limits when stories that were literally created from people based on their culture and religion to pass on messages are not only distorted beyond recognition but also to a degree where nowadays most people of Greek mythology liking spectrum know only how terrible villains some men are (in actual mythology they are complicated personas) and how weak women are (there are literlly figures in Greek mythology that are so strong personas that honestly I am shocked. See Helen for example how she is the most projected persona as a pretty face that does nothing when Helen literally taks back to Aphrodite, she is the only one who sees through Odysseus's disguise, she has knowledge of medicine and so much more for once) Mythology loses all its meaning, all its allegory and all its cultural spectrum because as you said people do not use it to retell the story, they use the word "retelling" as their excuse to just tell a story that fits them by using the popularity of greek mythology and yes as you said why cannot they say their original stories while using inspiration from Greek mythology?

Honestly I have nothing to add! You said it all dear Anon!

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

My blog is generally pretty lighthearted and I stick to reblogging art and fic and fun stuff, but you know what. I feel like I need to say this.

I am a trans teen in the US. I'm seventeen, so too young to have voted. I'm terrified for my life right now. I usually post about college but I'm actually concurrently enrolled in high school still and the kid who sits behind me in first period government is a massive Trump fanboy. I'm going to have to go to high school Monday and talk about the election. I'm going to have to hear my deadname called and hear people in my super conservative high school talk about how happy they are Trump won. Everything is terrifying. I walk outside of my house and I'm scared I'll be shot. Several months ago I promised that I'd kill myself if that bastard won.

He did and I'm still here.

I'm not thriving. I'm not living my best life. I'm barely living. But I'm surviving. I'm coping. I'm trying my goddamned best. It's hard. I want so bad to just go and take as much medication as I can and slit my wrist for good measure and pass away in my sleep. But I'm still here. And I will be here.

I am in so much pain. But I'm living on spite and determination and everything I can scrape together. I know I need support and those around me need support. So consider this a support masterpost.

Support:

First thing you should see if you're a trans person in the US.

Here's a link to the Trevor Project and here's a link to their suicide hotline page. They've already saved my life once before. Please note - they recommend calling if you need immediate support. Donate if you can, please.

This post is both a suicide hotline masterlist and a post mentioning how something feels deeply wrong here with this election.

On the topic of something being wrong, sign this petition. I'm only seventeen but I did this and it might not feel like much but if we couldn't shoot that bastard (I am not pro-gun but I am when it comes to him) then we'll do the next best thing. Here's the link to the petition itself. Make sure to check the post every once in a while - the original petition got taken down and this is important.

I follow a lot of gimmick blogs, so I got to see this post encouraging us to be loud. Because we should be. Because if we die they've won and my mom didn't smoke weed on the steps of the state capital of Colorado to legalize it just so her son could roll over and die.

Here is the Tumblr Hot Beverage Masterpost, as I've taken to calling it. My personal favorites are the London Fog in the replies, earl grey with milk, honey, and vanilla (in the tags), and some additions from me are hot chocolate with peppermint melted into it, earl grey with lavender, caramel apple tea, and really anything else you can think of. Trust me. This post works better than you think.

Read this post if you haven't seen it already. It's half poem, half Tumblr being Tumblr, all wonderful to read.

Things I just like to see:

PM Seymour and Bettina Levy both have shown their support for everyone struggling right now. It might not be much, but I still really appreciate it and seeing support can really help.

The cat with the kind and reassuring face. No other context.

Four panel comic of hope. Because you're more than enough.

Can't find the post where I found this but this is a link to a virtual toy where you can make your own galaxy.

Please. Eat something. Drink a hot beverage. Draw, write, read, knit, sew, sculpt, bake, do something that helps. Reach out to friends, even if they're online friends. Talk to someone you trust. Make vent art. Write vent fics. It doesn't matter what you do as long as it helps.

Do not roll over and die. Live. Live on spite. Live on determination. Live on shitposts and live on heartfelt stories like this one. If you have anything to add to this post please do. Add more resources. Add more love to this post. I know I'm just a guy on the internet saying shit, but I still care about everyone who sees this post.

[theredtours]

.

[seventh-district]

it’s finally getting cold enough that i can bring my cardigan collection back into rotation without feeling like i’m gonna melt into a puddle the second i step outside!!!

[dadbots]

August… time to get spooky.

[spocksbedsidemanner]

.

[blueshykitsune-blog]

I want a giant brown bunny... but... but too much!

The only one I found was like $158 USD... it was just about 5 foot tall! It literally was like looking at what I wanted to make but realized I didn't have enough stuffing for!

And one that was like 3 feet tall was $100...

Like yes I know materials and time is money but I can still complain! Why fabric gotta be so much! And so messy! (The ones with faux fur or of the like. Like whyyyyyy!!!!) Also why is cotton and stuffing so much too! And you get enough for maybe only one 2 foot plushie!

(I ran out of tagging space... 30 the limit sadly. But I had more to say but maybe later I'll do a bigger post on that all.)

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

[rinhaler]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit.” he shakes his head.

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

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

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

You’ve heard about Yuuji, too.

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

And apparently he, gives the best head.

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

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

So much for looking cool.

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you ask, dumbly.

“Yeah.” he nods.

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

And now, you really do hate yourself.

You moan into it.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” you nod.

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” you nod, excitedly.

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

So much for hash browns.

“Yuuji…” you start.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But of course, Sukuna ruins everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds great baby.”

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

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

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

YOU: is something wrong??

YUUJI: no

YUUJI: just stressed

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

YOU: okay ☹️ omw 💖

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

Maybe he cheated on you.

He could be dying!

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

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

You’re safe.

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

No answer.

You knock a little louder.

No answer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s still not through with you yet.

“Do you need some cock?” he asks.

“Y-Yes.” you nod, pathetically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it feels fucking sublime.

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

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

“Sukuna! S-Stop!” you warn him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Yuuji will forgive you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell him… what?”

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

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

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

“It’s not fucking funny, Sukuna!”

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

“Yeah, I d—”

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

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

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

© 2023 rinitxshi