#Loose Note Counting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meownotgood · 2 months ago

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pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

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"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?"

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes.

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat.

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions.

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest.

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face.

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers.

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register.

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug.

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks.

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone.

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-"

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy.

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus.

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this."

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?"

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins.

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop."

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?"

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath.

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice.

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh.

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic.

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this.

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose.

"That's when you find it."

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right.

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside.

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze.

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles.

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest.

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days."

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration."

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again."

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you.

"And what is it I'm doing?"

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to."

"I am not-"

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down.

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count."

Your mouth forms a hard line.

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-"

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that."

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach.

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-"

"It is a necessary risk."

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…"

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going.

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his.

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him.

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was.

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn.

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together.

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background.

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear."

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal.

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron.

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula.

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away."

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on."

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity.

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again.

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy.

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles.

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning.

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams.

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love.

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-"

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet —

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back.

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving."

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately.

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale.

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-"

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me."

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones.

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion?

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench.

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please."

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?"

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears.

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die."

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears.

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness.

It's a reminder that you're right.

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time.

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions.

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him.

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands.

He knows this body is… wilting.

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him.

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last?

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted.

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped.

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology.

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do.

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus.

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying.

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to.

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once.

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful.

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change.

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline.

It's something Viktor picks up on.

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him.

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you.

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can.

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral.

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice.

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned.

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring.

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him.

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop.

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt.

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it.

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before.

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth.

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it.

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull.

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve.

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead.

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back.

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special?

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck.

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone.

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks.

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand.

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you.

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens.

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his.

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration.

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead.

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like.

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone.

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together.

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat.

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair.

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold.

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight.

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation.

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun.

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his.

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things."

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids.

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway.

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different.

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough.

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to."

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?"

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired.

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…"

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting?

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw.

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?"

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap.

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession."

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his.

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression.

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate."

"Oh? Enlighten me."

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears.

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late."

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?"

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance."

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate.

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious."

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day.

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly.

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you.

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe."

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress.

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you.

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd.

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'"

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums.

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time.

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional.

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene."

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you.

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget.

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm —

"Vik-"

"I need to have your trust."

Your eyes widen.

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-"

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you."

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open.

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking —

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please."

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it.

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you."

Viktor softens.

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you.

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark."

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane

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s0dium · 7 months ago

Text

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

#jjk smut #geto x reader #geto smut #getou smut #getou suguru smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut

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lokissweater · 3 months ago

Text

beetlejuice!

{beetlejuice!satoru gojo x f!reader}

— “ may you never forget me ” ♪ ༘⋆

summary: living as a psychic medium was like a ticket straight to nothing in your life, you always accidentally creeping people out and scaring them when you talked about it, and you just feeling empty— like something was missing and vacant in your life with no explanation as to why. but upon stumbling through an attic inside a house of a recently deceased couple, you meet him— beetlejuice, a silly and wacky man who was damned to live in the attic for eternity due to him breaking the rules, you never having met a spirit so forward and flirtatious in your life as you quickly bonded. but when beetlejuice presents the idea of you being able to break his contract and finally set him free, you hesitate at the one condition… marrying him.

warnings: MDNI afab!reader, DIABOLICAL angst my god, angst w/ comfort though YIPPEEE, mentions of death, mentions of murder, reader is a psychic medium, fluuufff, SMUUUTTT, p in v sex, DOM AFF SATORU MEOOWWW, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, oral, blowie, mentions of ghosts and spirits and things, loosely inspired by the 80s movie, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 19.8k

authors note: YEEEEEOOOOWWWW GET READY YALL….. SHES FREAKY… SHES ANGSTY… AND SHES THE MOMEEEENNTTTT omg i absolutely LOOOVEDDD writing this one so much and i hope you guys find it interesting or i’m gonna CRYYYY HEHEHEH no i’m jk but as always, i love you SO SO SO much and thank you for all of your love and support !! MWAAAHHH <333

you’ve always had a knack for the paranormal.

and from the newspaper clippings you saw and the meddlesome whisperings of your fellow neighbors, newlyweds adam and barbara maitland died on their way home from a day out in the town— swerving in their vehicle while crossing over a bridge and crashing through the side of it, evidently sending themselves tumbling down to the river below and drowning.

it was the biggest tragedy your tiny town had ever been hit with, the maitland’s having renovated their house on the hill from scratch and had recently just finished it when the accident happened, the both of them in the midst of planning their honeymoon to get away from winter river for a little while, happy and in love and looking forward to a quiet serene life together.

it was a shame, really, and it only took two weeks for rumors to spread about how there were always weird moving shadows from the windows of their two story home, or slight flashings of neon blue or white seeping through the cracks of their front door— all of which pissed the realtors off seeing as the rumors prevented the house from being sold again, prospected buyers coming in with high hopes only to be scared off once they so even explored the town, a store clerk or a fellow neighbor quick to tell them of the gossip and to stay away, ultimately causing the house to collect dust and cobwebs until realtors decided they wouldn’t bother much with it anymore.

and the rumors always peaked your interest, as your entire life you’ve always had a passion for the supernatural seeing as your late parents were psychic mediums for the otherworldly, a beautiful ominous gift that was relayed to you from the moment you were able to correctly comprehend sentences, your mind and soul more welcoming to spirits of the unknown compared to regular folk who flat out refused.

and why? you didn’t know. they were just mystic entities that perhaps couldn’t find their way to the other side like they were intended, and if the rumors were true, the maitland’s were in the same predicament, and you felt like they just needed time and space without the pestering of realtors or dumb kids knocking on the windows to see if a ghost would pop out— deserving of a proper chance to figure it out.

except your boyfriend wouldn’t understand that either.

“babe c’mon!” he pleaded with you, a distressed look on his face. “i thought you liked creepy ghost shit?”

you scoffed. “yes rin but not to fucking break in and steal their things! what the hell’s the matter with you?!”

rin groaned and rubbed his eyes, his friends obviously annoyed and bothered by your defiance and it only made you feel awkward, sitting there on your desk chair in your college dorm and guiltily picking at your black nail polish.

“y/n we literally cannot go if you don’t go.” he pushed. “we need your ghost brain to tell us if they’re around so we can scram if they decide to kill us.”

you snorted, already aggravated by rin’s lack of respect and wholeheartedly believing dumb stereotypes.

“you’re committing a crime—”

“the house is abandoned! no one gives a shit!” he threw his arms up. “babe c’mon i’m serious it’s getting late and we’re losing time.”

why wasn’t he listening?

“what are you looking for anyways?” you mumbled.

“money.” he replied, grabbing his black bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “that’s literally it i won’t take anything else.”

“do you swear?” you peered up at him. “don’t take jewelry or any of their things just money and we get out.”

“yeah we won’t! right guys?”

rin looked over both of his shoulders to ensure that his friends agreed, them muttering and sighing as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek and feeling embarrassed for some reason, slowly standing and crossing your arms.

you never liked his friends.

“and leave me out of it okay?” you spoke. “we could get kicked out of college for this i don’t know how you’re not worried…”

he swung a heavy arm around your shoulders and nudged you on, you stumbling a bit as he basically had a lock around your neck on your way outside.

“they’re not gonna care y/n.” he dismissed, unlocking the car and his friends piling in the back while you settled in the passenger seat. “nobody will. it’s abandoned.”

the entire way there you were aggravated and guilty, rin and his friends babbling on about the valuable things they’d hope to find and the kind of ghosts they thought would appear, not a single person in the car an actual believer of those paranormal rumors as they poked fun and teased, your forehead against the glass of the window and miserable as rin drove up the steep hill— the night chilly and so dark that you could barely make out the shape of the house until you were just about to pull up to the driveway.

rin turned off his headlights and tuned down the radio to avoid drawing attention, steering wheel shifting a little to the right so the car could gradually round over and stop next to the front steps of the porch— rin shutting off the ignition once he parked and stuffing his keys into his pocket.

and you could immediately feel a presence even from outside the house, your arms stiff and tingly as you all quietly got out of the car and made your way to the stairs, dry dirt crinkling beneath your shoes as you tried to swallow back your nerves knowing that at any moment you could all be fucking arrested.

“are you sensing ghosts?” rin whispered, a sly teasing grin on his face as the floorboards of the porch creaked with your movements, his hand reaching and jiggling the doorknob.

“yeah.”

his eyes snapped over to you. “…really? yeah right.”

“no i’m serious.” you whispered back. “what did you bring me for if you’re not even gonna believe when i tell you—”

“okay! okay i’m sorry.” he apologized, though it didn’t seem genuine as he patted your back. “i believe you trust me.”

“wait— she said there’s ghosts?” one of his friends piped up. “how do you know?”

you went to answer but rin beat you to it.

“she’s a psychic… i guess.” he unzipped his bag and pulled out a mini tool kit, a mix of screwdrivers and bobby pins inside. “she can sense them.”

“oh my god…” another one mumbled, all of his friends eerie now. “rin— i thought you said those rumors were bullshit.”

your eyes narrowed. “you said that?”

“no!— i mean, technically yes but—” he took two bobby pins from the kit and put the rest of the box away, hunching down to lock pick the knob. “you guys really think any of that is real? it’s just the neighbors man they’re bored—”

“people here don’t just make up rumors like that rin.” you cut him off. “the majority of winter river is elderly and in retirement why the fuck would they be making up—”

“because they’re old and bored—”

the lock released a prominent click and rin tested the doorknob again, this time it turning all the way and opening as he pushed it wide, you all proceeding cautiously and it somehow being colder inside than it was outside as the group shined their flashlights around every corner and space, not bothering to tell your boyfriend that the presence you felt earlier was ten times stronger now, for rin never really believed you or just thought you were being funny whenever you mentioned things like that to him.

you had known rin since the start of college, him always the rebel dickish type as he didn’t follow directions or liked whenever people tried to tell him what to do, and how you ended up crossing paths with him and it sticking was something that was a mystery to you.

rin was everything you wanted at first.

and though he was a bit selfish, you foolishly looked past the fact and let him meddle his way into your already monotonous life, it being hard for you to make friends in the first place because of your psychic abilities— always feeling like something was missing and… vacant for years growing up without any explanation as to exactly why, figuring it was just the side effects of your parents’ passing.

but it still didn’t help when you’d accidentally partake in scaring off and weirding people out when you mentioned that you just saw their deceased relative wander by, rin being one of the first to actually stay because he didn’t believe you, choosing to turn a blind eye to something you treasured about yourself the most, stuck and left to wonder if there was ever someone who did.

but turning a blind eye to just your psychic ability became him turning a blind eye to everything about you, and you felt like he never really listened to what you had to say or cared, often switching the topic back to himself or giving you a series of ‘mhm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ to get you to move on.

you didn’t feel seen anymore, but you loved him still for some reason.

“where do we even look?” one of his friends whispered, the lot of you traveling as a group through the entry room and down the hall to the kitchen.

“wherever you think a money bank would be.” rin mumbled, leading you all and going round to the living room, his flashlight shining over dusty furniture and spiderwebs. “i think it’d be better if we split up. half of us can take upstairs and the others can look through the kitchen, y/n and i are gonna dig through here for a bit—”

“what?” you spoke, his friends nodding and walking off to their designated areas. “rin no i told you i’m not—”

“oh my god babe— would it really hurt you to just peek in some freaking drawers? let me know if something looks like it has money in it alright?”

he stepped over to the middle and crouched by the coffee table, opening and closing several compartments. “be useful please.”

you scoffed. “you’re the one who dragged me here and i told you i wasn’t getting involved.”

“you’re not.” he mumbled, standing back up and going over to a big brown dresser on the side. “just look at shit and don’t touch anything. tell me if you see money.”

you rubbed your cheek in exhausted frustration, thinking it’d be better to just mindlessly look around to appease him as you caught and stared at the photographs over by the fireplace— a wedding portrait of whom you assumed to be adam and barbara maitland propped up amongst others of family and friends, your fingers raising to gently wipe away the dirt and grime from the glass to get a clearer look of them.

you felt awful that their lives were taken from them just when they had built such a loving foundation for it, and you felt even more awful that rin and his stupid friends were invading their space and stealing in the way that they were with no sense of respect.

a sudden loud thud from upstairs made you and rin stop in your tracks, the both of you unmoving as you tried to listen.

“i’m gonna—” you gnawed at your bottom lip. “i’m gonna check upstairs—”

“no absolutely not.” rin shook his head. “it’s probably just my friends it’s fine.”

“if it’s the maitland’s your friends aren’t gonna know what to do besides shit themselves—”

“okay yeah sure.” he laughed, opening and closing different drawers from top to bottom. “it’s the house babe it’s old and worn out. maybe the— wood or whatever is acting up.”

you pursed your lips, arms crossing and apprehensive as you stood next to him, knowing with everything in you that the maitland’s were definitely still present.

“can we please just go rin...” you asked softly. “please we’ll— we’ll find a different building that’s actually abandoned and doesn’t have the maitland’s still here—”

he scoffed. “y/n this one is abandoned.“

“but it’s only been three months!” you exclaimed. “i don’t wanna do this to them—”

“—oh sweet! there’s a rolex in here—”

“no!” you snatched the watch from his upheld hand and backed away towards the fireplace. “you swore to me just money these are their things—”

“y/n they’re dead! who fucking cares? all of their shit’s gonna be donated might as well pawn it.”

“yeah for your own benefit right?” you mumbled, pushing past him and walking down the hall. “i’m going home.”

he looked at you baffled. “are you serious? over a dumb watch?”

“rin you’ve gone back on everything you promised and you’re not taking me seriously—”

“did i take the watch? no i didn’t so stop—”

“i’m not talking about just the watch!”

“you know what?! fine!” rin shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out his keys, chucking them at you and hitting against your chest as you scrambled to catch them. “go wait in the car.”

you threw them back and they hit his upper arm, his eyes narrowing at you in return as he then bent down to grab them from the floor.

“i’m not waiting in the damn car i’m walking home.”

“you’re walking?” he shook his head. “back to your dorm? that’s gonna take you like an hour y/n.”

you shrugged.

“fine go i don’t give a shit.” rin muttered and rolled his eyes. “you always do this man—”

you didn’t bother to stick around for anything else he had to say as you trudged on down the hall and back to the main entryway, tears brimming your eyes at the lack of care he had for you and scolding yourself for the thousandth time for staying with him, trying to understand why he was like this with you when all you’ve ever done was be patient and give him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t fucking deserve it.

it was hard for you to tell if he even loved you anymore, and you always psyched yourself out that he did whenever he’d barely just accomplish doing the bare minimum.

upon arriving at the front door, you placed the rolex gently on a lonesome night stand by the coat hanger, your hand reaching and turning the knob to step outside until another loud thud shook through the walls, and louder this time as you pulled back and craned your head to look up the stairs.

muffled voices seeped from the top as they gasped and whispered to each other to shush, you recognizing some to be rin’s friends with irritation and worry simmering in your brain, wondering if they were messing with the maitland’s things and stealing what they weren’t supposed to steal, as they were just as uncaring and selfish as rin was throughout the time that you’ve gotten to know them.

and with that in mind, you let go of the doorknob and quietly walked up the stairs, every creak and groan from the wooden slabs underneath your feet making you wince as you went further and further until you reached the top, you sighing as you saw that the maitland’s room door was wide fucking open and with snickering inside.

but with each step that you took to get closer… the more prominent the goosebumps on your arms became and the heavier the feeling in your gut grew, a strange apparent flickering light from your right blinding your vision for a moment as you stopped and turned to look.

your eyes slightly widened, a neon lime green foggy light practically oozing from the attic staircase as it streamed over half of your frame, luring you in with your body mindlessly and curiously walking towards it and up the rugged squeaky stairs, fingers quickly reaching up to swing the attic door open and halting in alarm once you did, the green aluminous light from earlier completely encasing you entirely now as you stepped forward inside the attic.

the door swung and slammed itself shut suddenly, you jumping and spinning around with hurried hands coming up to pull and tug at the knob, breathing irregular upon realizing that it wouldn’t fucking budge and was somehow jammed with no explanation as to exactly how—

“boyfriend troubles?”

“oh my god!” you screamed, hand flying over your heart as your eyes snapped to the source, a tall lanky man standing there with a little grin and vibrant pale blue eyes that only utterly confused you, his vertically stripped black and white suit peculiar and unique as your frantic eyes darted over his figure.

you knew for a fact that the strange man before you wasn’t adam maitland, for the way he looked now didn’t match the pictures you saw in the newspapers at all, you swallowing thickly and slowly backing up against the attic door with your heart dropping straight down to your ass.

who the fuck was he? was he— was he a spirit? because if not there’s a random man literally just basking and relaxing inside the—

“relax! relax jeez you look like you’re about to vomit sweets.”

sweets?

“are you dead?!” you blurted, hand scrambling behind you for the doorknob. “are you— are you alive how are you—”

he laughed loudly and wiggled his little index finger— scrunching it up and down to elicit a ‘yes’ and finding your skittishness a little funny.

“yup! so dead very dead.”

“o— oh… okay...” you spoke softly, tense shoulders gradually relaxing as you gave him a small timid smile, relieved that he wasn’t a freaking squatter and doing god knows what up in the attic.

“you seem happier to see a dead man rather than a live one...” he looked at you amusedly. “you like ghosts? scary stuff? haunted houses? handsome me?—”

you nearly choked on your spit at his last comment, an awkward smile wobbling across your face as you played with your fingers.

“i— i um..” you looked around, your eyes catching a book titled ‘handbook for the recently deceased’ sitting neatly on a dusty table by the door. “you could say that.. but—”

you hesitated, the man’s head tilting to the side as he waited for you to continue.

“but what pretty?”

you blushed furiously, never having met a spirit so forward before.

“sorry but— how did you end up here?” you stood on your tippy toes to peer over his shoulders and around the attic. “and where are the maitlands?”

“oh, those lousy goodie two shoed meanies?” he mumbled, pouting and bitter as he crossed his arms. “beats me..”

you laughed a little, guard slowly coming down as he didn’t seem or feel like a bad person to you, and you thought that perhaps he was in the same boat as the maitlands and was just trying to find his way to the other side.

“why are they meanies?” you smiled, and he reciprocated, arms falling to his sides.

“well— i’m kind of being held in the attic against my will by the— holy shit wait!”

he threw his hands out in front of him and took quick stride full steps towards you, a wild excited expression on his face and you stiffening up again, backing up against the door.

“you can help me!”

“help… you..?” you squeaked.

he vigorously nodded. “yeah! the butthead caseworkers down in the netherworld banned me from leaving the attic… but you can give me a little leg room in my contract sweets!”

netherworld— caseworkers— banned—

“huh?!” you exclaimed, brows furrowed and utterly confused at everything he was fucking saying.

you’ve only ever seen spirits from afar or casually talked to them about something fleeting before they went on their marry way, but never in your life have you met such a complex soul that was so animate and asking you for a favor straight off the bat… as spirits usually just— knew what they were doing and eventually figured out how to get to the great beyond.

so the subject of caseworkers and the netherworld and whatever the fuck else he was rambling on about was something you were not familiar with.

“i did something they didn’t like.” he gave you a boyish half smile. “so they did some ritual thing and now i can’t leave the attic.”

you frowned. “why would they do that? what did you do?”

he waved you off and swung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you forward with him towards a huge 3D model in the center of the room that you barely just noticed— intricate and detailed and colorful as your brain put two and two together and figured out that it was a model of the entire city of winter river.

“don’t worry about it! but i overheard juno telling her assistants not to say my name three times or else i’ll be let out to roam around the house—”

juno? who’s juno?

“—and that’s why i really need you sweets because i’m dying in this fucking attic… way more than i already am.”

you blinked at him. “i’ve never— i’ve seen spirits all my life and i’ve never had any of them tell me about caseworkers? and juno? who’s juno?”

“the rule is that the land of the living isn’t supposed to know.” he pursed his lips and dropped his arm from your shoulders, picking up the book that you had spotted earlier and passing it to you. “says it in the handbook.”

you timidly took it from him and flittered through the pages, old and crinkly and a little worn out as the gist of the pages you saw was a guide for those beginning their post-livelihood and the steps they needed to do so— from waiting rooms in the netherworld to being assigned a caseworker to help you out to the great beyond and so forth, your eyes falling on a particular page and catching specific line.

‘live people ignore the strange and unusual.’

they do. wrongfully they do.

and since people had been ignoring you out of fear your whole life… did that mean you were strange and unusual too?

“what?” the unknown man spoke, softly as his blue gaze switched between your solemn expression and the book, shifting his position to stand right next to you and see what you were looking at.

“oh sorry!” you laughed it off, closing the book and placing it down. “nothing i was just—”

“‘live people ignore the strange and unusual?’” he repeated. “what about it?”

you shook your head and sent him a small smile. “nothing! i was just looking—”

“just because you can see spirits doesn’t mean you’re strange or unusual.”

you stilled, eyes big as you watched the way he froze up over what he said, sheepishly relaxing after a moment and lifting an arm to pat over your head.

“sorry pretty. i can read and manipulate minds and i poked in yours...” he looked at you apologetically. “it’s another reason why they threw me in this shit hole.”

he dropped his hand then, a sincere glint in his eyes. “but i mean it.”

“i don’t know…” you mumbled, looking down and playing with the hem of your skirt. “i’ve never really had friends because of it… and i feel like that book kind of confirmed what i’ve been thinking.”

you quickly picked your head up. “oh but— it’s okay! i’m okay i’m used to it spirits are nicer anyways and i’ve always been alone so—”

“that’s not true.” he mumbled.

your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

he funnily froze up again. “what do i mean what?”

“what’s not true?”

“oh! that— that spirits are nicer!” he quickly sputtered. “they’re assholes. all of them. every single one. including me!”

you giggled at his franticness and a smile spread across his face at that, endearing as he watched you slowly cheer up.

“people’s ignorance doesn’t define who you are sweets.” he spoke gently. “so don’t give them that right. you look perfectly fine to me!”

your eyes softened, wondering what the hell this man did that made the caseworkers down in the netherworld ritual him into a contract, as you were convinced it wasn’t even that bad at all and just straight up unfair, him being one of the kindest and silliest souls you’ve probably ever had the privilege to come across.

“i’ll help you.”

his eyes snapped to yours. “huh?”

“i’ll help you!” you spoke sweetly. “i’ll say your name three times so you can leave the attic.”

“wha— really?!” he exclaimed excitedly, hands animatedly flying everywhere as they went from digging into his white locks to all over his suit and then thrown out to grip over your shoulders, shaking you as you giggled again. “holy shit will you actually?!”

“yeah! why not?” you grinned. “i don’t think it’s right that you’re stuck up here all alone.”

“angel! angel! you’re an angel!” he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and stuffed your face into his chest, squishing you so fucking tight and honestly holding you way longer than he should’ve, but you not minding one tiny bit as you hugged him back and smoothed a comforting friendly hand over his broad shoulders.

“what’s your name then?” you muffled against his suit. “so i can—”

“ahhh fuck.” he muttered. “i forgot about one thing.”

you pulled back a little. “hm?”

“i can’t tell you my name.”

“what?” you looked at him confusedly. “what do you mean? why not?”

“it’s part of the stupid contract sweets...” he sighed heavily. “but i can give you clues! ooo!— like charades! ready?”

“oh! o—okay!” you nodded, him finally letting you go and stepping back.

“don’t freak out.” he grinned in a silly way. “i’m about to make things show up.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “make things show up?”

he waved his hand and a life sized fucking black bug appeared out of nowhere, landing on one of the old wooden rocking chairs in the corner of the room as it wiggled its little legs and peered around, you screaming and flying behind the strange blue eyed man while he laughed loudly and looked over his shoulders for you.

“it’s okay! just a figment of your imagination is all.” he cheesed. “but guess now!”

“guess what?!” you shrieked.

“what that is!” he pointed to the bug.

you peeked an eye out from his side, the bug still gross and horrifying as it wiggled it’s antennas.

“a bug!”

“what kind?”

“a beetle!”

“yes!” he nodded vigorously. “okay that’s the first part!”

“your name starts with beetle?!—”

he waved his hand again and the bug disappeared, a carton of orange juice replacing it instead and floating in mid air, a shiny glass cup next to it as you amazedly watched it pour its bright orange contents into the cup without spilling a single drop.

“…orange juice?” you spoke softly, timidly coming around from behind him. “your names beetle orange juice?”

“not quite!” he made a drinking motion with his hand.

“beetle drinking orange juice?”

he laughed. “no! you’re adding too many words pretty take some out.”

“beetle drinking juice?”

“nope.”

“beetle drinking orange?”

“colder.”

“beetlejuice?—”

“yes!” he threw his hands out, eyes wild and excited. “yes that! and you’ve already said it once now just two more times—”

“beetlejuice.”

“uh huh uh huh—”

“beetle— mmph!”

a pair of hands clasped over your mouth from behind you and pulled you back, you letting out a muffled scream as you thrashed and quickly pried their fingers away, you spinning around and fully expecting to see rin behind you with a shit eating grin and laughing in your face for scaring you.

except it wasn’t rin.

it was the maitlands.

“don’t say his name honey.” barbara spoke first. “trust me… don’t.”

“i mean— are we sure about this sweetheart?” adam looked at his wife. “maybe he isn’t all that bad… hell we don’t even know for sure—”

barbara shook her head. “adam, did you not hear a word juno said? he was about to take advantage of that poor girl!”

take advantage?

you heard a scoff behind you and you turned around, a disgruntled and pissed off look on beetlejuice’s face as he crossed his arms.

“jeez i know you don’t like me but that’s low.” he mumbled. “i wouldn’t do something like that.”

your head turned back to barbara. “you know who juno is?”

she nodded. “juno’s our caseworker… we got assigned to her in the netherworld after we died.”

“took us three months waiting in the waiting room until she finally got to us.” adam added, chuckling in humorous disbelief. “but all she really did was nag at us and warn us about him.”

adam pointed behind you and you turned around again, beetlejuice bitterly looking to the side with his lips pursed.

oh god.

had he been feeding you nonsense this entire time?

“warn about what.” you mumbled, and beetlejuice snapped his head in your direction with anxious eyes.

“juno calls him a bio-exorcist.” barbara informed you. “he tried to illegally cross over to the land of the living and bring himself back to life.”

your eyes bulged open. “back to life? how?”

“you switch souls with someone else through a ritual.” adam piped in. “juno says he attempted to trick and switch souls with somebody that was alive so he could terminate all who were living… and they didn’t even know about it.”

“that’s not true!” beetlejuice countered, utterly exasperated. “the old hag made that up!”

he quickly walked towards you, taking your hands in his and looking at you pleadingly.

“please sweets you’ve gotta believe me i never wanted to kill anybody—”

you ripped your hands away and glared. “so this entire time you’ve been lying, playing some hopeless victim so you can poke into my head and find out shit about me to use to your advantage?—”

“no! no i— i haven’t been lying about anything it’s juno!”

“juno.” you repeated coldly. “and what’s she lying about exactly.”

“about killing the living!” he threw his hands out in emphasis. “she literally pulled that out of her ass when her and her minions banned me—”

“and what about tricking that person to switch souls with you so you can come back?”

he faltered, words completely failing him and guilty eyes looking into yours so deeply that it nearly made you feel bad for yelling at him.

“that’s… that’s true.”

you let out a breath of disbelief and barbara put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently and comfortingly as she looked at you with caring eyes.

“we don’t know what to believe either honey.” she began. “it’s a lot of he said she said… but it’s better to be safe. he tried to get us to say his name three times too in exchange for his help.”

you quirked a brow. “help? what do you guys need help with?”

“your buddies downstairs.” adam sighed. “they’re stealing our things and just messing up the house… but we’ve been watching you and we know you’ve been trying to get them out and so have we… horrendously though.”

“oh my god—” you slapped a hand over your gaping mouth. “i totally forgot about them! i’m so so sorry oh my god i can’t even begin to explain to you how embarrassing this is i’ve been telling them to stop—”

barbara laughed and waved you off. “it’s alright! we know sweetheart. but we’re not frightening enough to scare them off whatsoever… so that’s what we were trying to get his help for.”

“and i still can y’know…” he muttered. “even though you hate me.”

“i don’t hate you juno does.” she crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one side of her hip. “adam and i are lost we don’t know what’s going on and we can’t even read that thing for the recently deceased.”

“we’re just trying to get them out of the house son…” adam finished off.

and in that moment you felt like you were the one responsible for this. that if you had bitched about it harder, even screamed at rin to get him to stop or damn near called the fucking cops on them so that this wouldn’t be happening right now… the maitlands wouldn’t have to suffer and struggle like this every waking day to protect their home and what rightfully still belonged to them even after death.

because the maitland’s roaming around and producing shadows and figures and scaring the realtors and prospected buyers off wasn’t just for shits and giggles… but to try and keep what was once theirs and feel a sense of normalcy for the life they once had.

that was their great beyond. their home.

“i’ll get them to leave.” you smiled at barbara and adam. “i don’t care if i literally have to start fist fighting with his friends this is so unfair—”

“wait! are— are you sure sweets?” beetlejuice interjected worriedly. “your boyfriend’s kind of nuts and i can’t help you once you leave the attic—”

“i’m sure.” you mumbled, still bitter and annoyed at him. “can’t be anymore nuts than you basically trying to kill someone so you can prance around alive again—”

“i already apologized to the entire netherworld nation for that!” he argued. “but if you ask me, if it’s so bad then they shouldn’t have put the fucking instructions in the guidebook.”

“juno says guidebook reveals to you what you want most.” adam spoke. “because barb and i didn’t see a single page that had to do with that… mostly just tips on how to scare the living.”

beetlejuice closed his eyes exhaustedly and shook his head. “doesn’t matter. i’m not trying to trick anyone right now i just want to get out of this damn attic—”

he looked to you again. “—please say my name three times pretty i’ve poked in your boyfriends head and he’s looney i don’t want you to—”

“i’ll see you guys in a sec!” you walked over to the door and left a sputtering frustrated beetlejuice behind. “if nothing works i’ll literally just take my boyfriends keys and drive the car down the hill, he freaks over that thing—”

your voice trailed off as you walked down the creaky stairs of the attic and down the hall of the second floor, the maitlands main bedroom coming into view as you tried to get a script together in your head as to what exactly you were gonna tell rin… but your footsteps quickening at the sound of loud yelling and laughing coming from inside the bedroom, sounds of glass shattering and moving furniture making you panic as you practically stumbled in from the doorway.

and your heart stopped, rin standing there with a crow bar in his hands that he got from who the fuck knows where, smashing multiple vases and porcelain jewelry cases and stuffing his pockets full of anything that looked shiny and valuable in his eyes, the mattress and blankets thrown over to the side and the mainland’s things just completely ransacked as you took it all in.

“rin!”

he jumped and spun around, brows pinching upon seeing you standing there.

“what are you doing here? i thought you left?”

“what the fuck?!” you gestured to the broken shards on the floor and strewn about articles of clothing. “what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“calm down babe it’s fine.” he turned and smashed another small jewelry case, you scoffing in response. “it’s all useless shit that’s gonna dust over—”

“get out.”

he snorted. “uh huh—”

“i’m serious rin get out.” you spat. “all of you.”

“yeah like i’d listen to you.” he spoke harshly, eyes narrowed and sharp as he turned again. “go wait in the fucking car or go home—”

“i’m calling the cops.”

“what?!”

a series of protests and worrisome comments erupted in the air from the group, all thrown directly at a fuming rin as he chucked his crow bar to the side— it clattering on the wooden floor as he hastily trudged over to you and gripped your upper arm, yanking you with him and out of the room into the hallway by the stairs.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing huh?” he spoke lowly and in your face. “embarrassing me in front of my friends like that?”

you shoved him off. “get out and find another building or i’m calling the cops rin.”

“yeah and if you do that i’m telling them you’re a shitty psychic medium so they can throw you in the shrink.”

your jaw dropped.

rin was being meaner than usual.

“why are you like this.” you mumbled. “i don’t even know why i’m still with you you’re an asshole and you’re pathetic—”

he got in your face again and grabbed your jaw, pressing you up against the railing of the staircase and damn near throwing you over as the edge of it dug into your lower back, your fingers gripping his arm and struggling to pull him away from you while his friends quietly gasped and silently watched in shock.

“pathetic? me?” he laughed humorously. “you’re the one who doesn’t have anything or anyone besides me and yet you still treat me like this you ungrateful bitch—”

“rin okay that’s enough dude let her go—”

“you wanna shut up? or do you wanna trade spots with her?” his fiery crazed eyes switched over to his friend, him only cowering under rin’s intense stare and shaking his head no, diverting his gaze and you still squirming and tugging for your freedom.

“get— off me—”

“or what?” he pushed you further back and your breath hitched, your feet off the ground now at this point as one of your hands shot out to grip the railing for support. “you gonna call your ghost friends for help? go ahead i wanna see you do it you lying—”

“beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice!”

a thunderous roar broke out into the air, actual lightning and black smokey fog spreading over the ceiling and around you as rin instantly let you go and looked around, all of his friends in a pure state of fear and alarm as they lost sight of each other amongst the suffocating mist— including you as you frantically tried to look for a clear path out, unable to decide if you regretted what you had just done.

“never seen a man with such a power trip!” a booming voice echoed through the house that you quickly recognized to be beetlejuice’s, the walls vibrating with each word. “seems to me like it’s all bark and no bite!”

“what did you do y/n?!” you heard rin’s distant yelling from somewhere you couldn’t pinpoint, the air cold and prickling at your skin. “who did you call?!”

“a god!” beetlejuice excitedly answered. “achilles preferably! wait actually he’s a demigod not a—”

“who the fuck is achilles?!”

the air cleared in the center suddenly and revealed a petrified rin, wide eyed and angry as he whipped his head around to try and figure out what was going on.

“you don’t know who achilles is?” half of beetlejuice popped out of nowhere from above the fog and his friends screamed at the mere size of him, for he wasn’t the normal looking man you saw before but a borderline monster— huge and crazed as he looked down at rin in particular with a scary grin.

but his eyes were still a fascinating sparkling blue, oddly familiar in a way as you watched the scene before you through the black air, beetlejuice continuing.

“read a book your stupid is showing.”

he lunged while simultaneously popping his eyeballs out of their sockets with his tongue out, cartoonish and terrifying as his friends yelled for help and scrambled to try and leave, struggling though the smothering mist as you placed a hand over your mouth in shock.

beetlejuice sucked his eyeballs back in and blinked to adjust. “what? you guys scared too? shouldn’t have been so mean to my little sweets over there then!”

they all looked to you and you froze, rin’s gaze narrowing.

“his little sweets?” he clenched his jaw. “the hells he talking about?”

beetlejuice didn’t know why rin was so dumb for even attempting at getting near you again after everything he did and said— his footsteps quick and stompy towards you until he straight up smacked into an invisible wall and doubled back with a hand over his nose, your brows pinching in confusion.

you timidly reached a hand out, expecting your fingers to touch an invisible barrier except there wasn’t one at all as they fell through completely over nothing, your arm slowly retracting back to your chest.

you looked up at beetlejuice’s huge figure, and he gave you a bright cute smile that made your cheeks heat up.

“this is bullshit!” rin roared, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand and pointing at you after. “you’re a goddamn nutcase y/n! what kind of show are you putting on huh?!”

“me?!” you shot back. “maybe you should stop being a dick for once in your life and listen when i tell you things you idiot.”

“yup!” beetlejuice quipped. “doll if you’re still with him after all of this i’m gonna have to start haunting you in your dreams.”

your gaze switched to beetlejuice and you laughed, a little glint to his eye as he watched you shake your pretty head.

“i was gonna dump him the minute i got him out of the house—”

“what?!” rin barked. “dump me? for what?!”

you scoffed. “are you serious? what do you mean for what?”

“fuck— babe okay i’m sorry alright? i’m sorry i’m just a little overwhelmed right now—”

“you’re a sack of shit.” beetlejuice spat. “and call her babe again and i’ll start the engine of your car and ram it through a tree.”

you snickered and rin swiveled around to face him.

“why don’t you stay out of this freak and leave my girlfriend alone—”

“sweets i’ll make him go away if you marry me.”

you choked, flustered and stiff as you looked at him, bewildered out of your mind.

“huh?!”

“pretty pleeaaseee.” he dragged. “you saying my name got me out of the attic but not the house itself… but if you marry me i’m a free man!”

“how does that—” you let out a shocked breath. “how does that even make sense—”

“marry me.”

“but i!—”

“marry me that’s my condition.”

“hold on!—”

rin dove at you with the full intention to grab you and pull you away, but eyes widening in terror as an invisible force practically grabbed his ankle and sweeped him back and away from you, dragging his body across the wooden floor and over to beetlejuice, his friends having enough of all of this and making a run for it down the stairs.

“oh! i almost forgot about you guys!”

beetlejuice nudged his head and they were sent flying back just like rin, all of them screaming and pleading for mercy as their bodies dragged across the floor and returned to him.

“which of you should i gobble up right now… i’m feeling the one on the far right! he’s trembling like a little leaf—”

“please no!” he cried. “i’ll— i’ll do anything! i’ll leave i’ll never—”

“—and i’ll save rin for the very end… best for last right?!”

they all wailed and clawed at the foggy air, your body unmoving as you tried to figure out if beetlejuice was actually being serious.

“please man!—”

“i’m sorry i’m so sorry!—”

“don’t apologize to me you doofuses.” another invisible force grabbed them all by the ankles and pulled them up, dangling them upside down. “apologize to her. then maybe i’ll spare you… how’s that sound?!”

“y/n! please! i’m sorry—”

“we’re sorry dear god!—”

“y/n!—”

“put— put them down!” you wavered. “that’s enough it’s okay! jesus..”

“awww already?!” beetlejuice pouted. “but i haven’t even started swinging them around yet… like a little ferris wheel! heh.”

you slapped a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh once rin and his friends started wailing in fear again, you shaking your head and smiling at him.

“it’s okay! next time! just let them go i’m sure they’ll run—”

“y/n, it seems like you understand me… you’re the only one that hasn’t bitten my head off in the entire three years that i’ve been dead!”

you laughed again. “i’m glad! now put them down please—“

“so be my wife then.”

“beetlejuice!”

“what?!” he whined. “you don’t wanna be my lawful wedded wife?”

“no!— well— just—”

“is it because i’m dead?”

“put them down and i’ll consider it!”

“yes ma’am!”

the invisible force dropped them and they slammed against the hardwood floors, each and every single one of them fumbling to get their things that flew out of their pockets while upside down and scurrying away, hurried footsteps stomping down the staircase as they tripped over their feet to get to and out the front door, you observing in amusement and slight guilt, leaning over the edge of the staircase to watch them go.

and the second that they did, the stuffy black fog lifted and felt immensely lighter, it dispersing into the air above you as it thinned out to a mere silly mist, cold and wet to the touch and similar to the air you’d feel after a long days worth of rainfall and cloudy weather, slow strides coming up from behind you as you saw beetlejuice’s shiny raven leather dress shoes out of the corner of your eye, you standing upright and turning to him.

he smiled warmly at you.

“thank you.” you grinned, bashful as he reached and fixed up your hair— hands smoothing over your head and down before his fingers lightly grazed and played with the ends of your strands.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “thank you for getting me out of the attic sweets!”

you kindly nodded.

“sweetheart, are you alright?”

you looked back and saw the maitlands, barbara walking up with outstretched arms and pulling you in for a hug.

“that boy was insane!” she pulled back and held you out at an arms length by the shoulders. “we tried so hard to intervene while he was yelling at you but we’re useless… they couldn’t see us.”

you giggled. “no it’s okay! really you didn’t need to i wouldn’t ever wanna put you guys in that position.”

“honey— he almost pushed you off the railing…” adam spoke softly. “if you hadn’t called for beetlejuice lord knows what he would’ve done… he was so aggressive and we were worried…”

your heart warmed, never in your life having been so cared for and looked after— funnily enough that you were receiving that sacred feeling from beings that were dead rather than living and it reminding you a little bit of the way your parents were with you when you were young, when they were still alive.

“we’re sorry for being so hard on you kid…” barbara sighed, gaze shifting to beetlejuice. “mistakes happen. i’m sure your passing was something you weren’t expecting like us.”

“oh! no it’s okay don’t.” he smiled brightly. “i almost killed a man i understand.”

“but we understand too.” adam added, and you felt like he was also referring to something you had no clue about as he had a particular look in his eyes, something that was only amongst them three. “i would’ve considered the same.”

beetlejuice swung an arm around your shoulders and looked down at you.

“so are you my little wife?”

“okay—” barbara laughed. “not that you know this—”

“adam! barbara!”

a sudden shriek boomed through the house and beetlejuice instantly pulled you behind him, waving his hand and an invisible force sending you further away until your back gently bumped against the wall, panic rising in your chest as the same black fog from earlier returned and swirled around you, blocking your vision.

was he… was he hiding you? what for?

“juno!” beetlejuice greeted, laughing awkwardly. “heyy long time no see!”

oh.

“zip it bozo.”

from the cracks and openings that you could see through the whirling wind, a proper old lady in professional office attire stood there with her arms crossed, a pissed off look on her face as she tapped her heel against the floor and played with the pearls around her neck.

“what did i tell you two about letting him free?” she scolded. “he’s a loose cannon! he’s not to be trusted!”

“i know i know we’re sorry… we just really needed to get those kids out! and they’re gone! and beetlejuice seems alright!” barbara looked to her husband, a desperate flicker in her gaze. “right adam?”

“yes! uh uh!” adam stepped forward and sighed softly. “please juno… he’s just a kid. he’s learned and what he did was three years ago—”

“what he did could’ve cost me my job and set my entire office up in flames.” juno lectured, pointing her wrinkly finger at beetlejuice next. “you broke a million undead laws and have hundreds of violation codes on your record. your punishment was to stay in the attic for eternity.”

eternity?

oh god no.

“but now i’m gonna have to send you to live inside mr. maitland’s winter river model and you better stay there!”

“what?!” beetlejuice scoffed. “juno please there’s gotta be a way i can lift those violations?”

“i’m afraid there isn’t.” she seethed.

“pretty please?”

“no.”

“with a cherry on top?”

“absolutely not.”

“not even probation?—”

“not even probation! you’re gone!”

your eyes blew open as you watched juno extend an arm out and move it to the side, a bright white blinding light encasing her entire figure and you quickly pushed a hand through the black fog and grabbed the back of beetlejuice’s suit, everything around you scarily blurring out and disappearing and you squeezed your eyes shut, arms reaching out to wrap around his upper torso as you buried your face in his back.

you didn’t want him to go… not at all. and the thought of him stuck inside a model forever like that all alone terrified you.

you understood why he was punished in the first place, but why couldn’t juno just see that he was good? that all he was trying to do was come back to life and live? something many other souls would also kill for?

hadn’t he been punished enough already? he stood stuck in that attic for three god damn years straight with no means of escape whatsoever, and now he was shamefully being sent to live inside a styrofoam cardboard model that was far worse than that stupid attic, for now he couldn’t be seen by anyone even if he truly wanted to be.

had that not been enough? enough of a sign to reconsider his contract?

why couldn’t he just be given a second fucking chance—

“pretty?”

you opened your eyes, forehead quickly detaching from his back and looking up, his piercing blue eyes staring down at you worriedly from behind as he shifted his body a little in your hold to face you.

“what are you doing here i thought—” his surprised gaze shifted over to the way you were clutching onto him, and he relaxed, smiling a little.

“you grabbed me baby?”

“i—” you let him go and stepped back, your cheeks a vibrant pinky shade. “y—yeah…”

he turned around fully.

“why?”

“because—” you bit your bottom lip, peering cutely up at him.

“because i thought we were getting married…”

beetlejuice’s expression dropped and he stared at you wide eyed, his face reddening at your words.

“i don’t— i don’t understand—”

“what?” you giggled. “i thought you proposed to me earlier?”

“i did! yes i did!” he rapidly nodded. “but— but are you actually serious?”

you nodded. “mhm! i am!”

“you can say no sweets honestly it’s okay…”beetlejuice spoke softly with pinched brows. “i’ll cry myself to sleep and shrivel up but i can handle it don’t worry about me—”

you laughed and nudged his shoulder with yours. “i wanna marry you… i wanna set you free.”

you walked over to a little bench, the feeling of you stepping on rubber and glue a little weird under your feet as you sat down and smiled, gently patting the spot next to you.

“i’m not letting you stay here forever by yourself, not when you’ve been doing that already for years.” you murmured, him taking a seat next to you with a yearn-full but apprehensive face.

“you deserve to do the things you want to do and see the things you want to see…” you looked at him so sincerely and loving that he felt his undead heart throb. “… and if i can help you in anyway to get you there i don’t care what it is. i can’t think of anyone more deserving of freedom than you.”

“you’re so pure…” he softly took your hand, yours warm and pumping in comparison to his cold and stiff one. “you always have been.”

he stared at your hand still, his index finger delicately tracing over the faint markings of your working veins underneath your skin, trying to remember what they looked like on him when he was alive, and if they ever looked as precious as yours did.

beetlejuice raised your hand and kissed it, eliciting a fuzzy blush to your cheeks.

“i think we’re meant to be.”

you faltered slightly, for you felt a rush of deja vu hit you like a stifling wave.

“have we met?” you teasingly asked. “before you died?”

he laughed and shook his head.

you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, beetlejuice still tracing the lines and indentations of your hand before you spoke up again.

“i have a question.”

his content eyes switched to yours before they looked back down. “yes sweets?”

“is your name really beetlejuice?”

he weirdly stopped, and you quirked a brow.

“it’s…” he swallowed. “it’s not.”

“oh what the?” you paused, a little puzzled. “where did it come from?”

“juno.” he snickered. “the old hag said it fit how bizarre and stupid i was, so she put it in my contract.”

“oh my fucking god.” you mumbled. “why the hell would she do that? that’s cruel… you’ve already paid the price for what you did the least she could do is address you by your given name.”

beetlejuice laughed cutely, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you.

“that woman doesn’t care baby… so don’t sweat it.” he lifted a hand and ruffled your hair. “and if you ask me, she needs to retire immediately. like— yesterday. all she does is fucking nag at me and the rest of her damn clients.”

you giggled.

“so what’s your name then?”

“not important! now i say we figure out a way to get out of this rinky dink model—”

your eyes narrowed.

“why won’t you tell me your name?”

“—or maybe we should just stay and make ourselves at home!—”

“you won’t tell your soon to be wife your name?—”

“—oh! oh! i can manifest a little jacuzzi in the middle of the cemetery that’s neat—”

you slapped a hand over his mouth and he stopped, your pleading little eyes making him guiltily melt against your hold.

“your name.” you urged softly, lowering your hand and revealing a little frown that he had on his lips. “please.”

“i—” he blinked, utterly remorseful. “i can’t… i can’t tell you my name.”

your brows pinched. “why not? is part of your contract?”

“no— well yes.” he sighed deeply through his nose, and you wondered why he looked so… strained.

“it’s not their contract, but my contract… with you.”

you froze.

“with—” you struggled. “i don’t—”

he rubbed his tired sunken eyes.

“it’s okay sweets but that’s all you need to know—”

“no.” you replied firmly. “what i need to know is your name.”

he dropped his arms and shook his head desperately. “y/n please i put that contract on you to protect you if— if i tell you my name you’ll be hurt and i don’t want that—”

“what do you mean?” you bitterly scooched away from him on the bench and he stubbornly moved closer, eliminating the distance you had created.

“i lied when you asked me if we had met.”

your heart dropped.

“because we have… and i— i wanted you to forget me so i took away your memories and if i tell you my name—”

he swallowed hard.

“… it’ll break the contract. and you’ll remember me again.”

you stared at him, his regretful tortured gaze so anguishing that it was almost unbearable to watch him endure it, wanting to mend it instead, something that already felt so right and easy to you and in no way shape or form unfamiliar.

slowly, you reached up and cupped his cold cheeks in your hands, bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

“but i want to remember you…” you murmured. “…please let me.”

his pupils worriedly shook as they darted all around your striking features, his name practically hanging off the edge of his tongue but his throat physically unable to get the words out, for his dead heart was pulling and fighting with his vocal chords to prevent him from doing so, everything within him wanting to save you from memories he had to live with even after death.

but the other part of him was filled with such intense longing for you that it effortlessly slipped between the cracks of his defensive wall of not telling you his name…the relentless feeling going straight to his heart and mind and strangling the fuck out of it to get a formidable yes instead.

he wanted the life he once had. more than anything.

“satoru.”

something snapped in your brain and you flinched back, memories flooding through your mind faster than the speed of light as you recollected each and every moment in your existence, for the sentiment of vacancy and like a specific thing was just missing in your life was finally put back in its rightful place— for the thing that was missing in particular was him.

satoru gojo.

there were images of meeting him when you were both itty bitty in middle school under a magnolia tree, him sporadic and silly and making you laugh so hard on the third day of school that strawberry milk blew out of your nose and all over his clothes, satoru not having a care in the world as he cackled along with you and thought the way you made liquid come out of your nose was cool.

and there were images of the both of you becoming the best of friends— never one without the other as you pulled pranks on your teachers and ended up in detention together almost everyday, your parents utterly done with you as you never seemed to get it through your head how to behave, the both of you brushing off your scoldings and lectures because you had each other to endure all of it with.

and you saw how much he cared about you.

how he would physically fight and yell and reprimand anyone who called you a freak, anyone who spread rumors about you and your psychic medium abilities as he constantly reminded you everyday that your gift was sacred… a treasure while he wiped your tear stained cheeks and cheered you up after another day of your classmates poking fun at you, him saying that your skills were the coolest and how much he wished he was just like you, how much you both were meant to be as he loved ghost stories and scary stuff.

you saw how you fell in love too.

and it didn’t take long either, as your stolen glances and teasing turned into much more as soon as you grew and went to high school together, the both of you making it official literally your freshman year despite the apprehensions from your parents on both sides because of how young you were.

but it never proved to be an issue, you and satoru not once stumbling over a hiccup since the two of you had built such a strong foundation of genuine friendship and care before you blessedly fell in love, satoru throughout your years together absolutely smitten over you as he always passed you silly notes during class that had a gazillion hearts scribbled all across with your name in the middle, telling you all of the time just how much he loved and cherished you to the point where you had to funnily push him away from you to get him to stop smothering you, you always giving in anyways due to the fact that you were just as smitten, physically unable to go a day without him, and him still physically unable to not iterate how you were meant to be.

satoru understood you, satoru listened to you, and satoru believed you whenever you would speak on your psychic gift and how you had spoken casually to a spirit just the other day, him always interested and unbelievably amazed at everything you had to say as he bombarded you with fifty questions and begged you to teach him how to see spirits too.

he was respectful and supportive of you through it all.

especially when your parents died.

satoru wouldn’t leave your side. he refused to as you tried to piece together what the fuck had just happened, their accident so sudden and weird that it never made sense to you and still didn’t to this day.

and you grieved of course, cried and weeped and clung to satoru like a moth to a flame, feeling alone and without your biggest support system— without your loving peculiar parents that gave you your priceless gift in the first place, him accepting your tears with open arms as he encouraged you to let it all out and was worried for you when it seemed like you had moved on rather quickly from it.

but it was simply because your parents weren’t afraid of the afterlife. it was because your parents had talked so much about it and taught you everything that they knew, that you were convinced their souls peacefully made it through to the great beyond straight away and together, for you never saw their spirits roaming around aimlessly after and feeling eternally grateful for that, your whole life being about acknowledging and embracing the mysteries of life after death.

the knowledge of knowing they were at peace was enough to get you by for a little while.

satoru continued to check in on you about it though... even when it was the end of your junior year and nearing a year since their passing, his parents kindly taking you in after the ordeal and making satoru sleep on the floor and you taking over his bed since they didn’t have an extra room, satoru doing it without even needing to be told and you thanking all of them any chance you got for their amicable kindness and tried to pay them back, satoru checking in on you every night with a series of timid ‘are you okay’s’ and ‘are you happy’s’ before going to bed, your arm dangling off the edge so you could intertwine your fingers while you slept.

you were never alone like you thought you were. ever.

because of satoru.

and he made it obvious that he wanted to marry you too, that he wanted to have you for the rest of his life and didn’t give a single shit if you were both only 18 and barely starting college, him deeming it pointless for the both of you to pretend like the hope of marriage wasn’t there just for the sake of shutting up his parents, as every time he brought it up you stammered and blushed and fidgeted and he only giggled at you, telling you it would happen soon, to be ready, and to sit pretty and patient until the right time came.

except it never did.

because satoru gojo died a year later following that on halloween, precisely on his way over to your dorm when he was snatched by an unknown man and murdered in the middle of the night, you stuck wondering what had happened to him and why he wasn’t answering the phone when he was hours late to come get you, your chest on fire and aching as the feeling in your gut was weirdly excruciating, a part of you completely torn away and lost and you had no idea why until the very next morning.

and he had to watch you mourn. properly this time and not at all like the way you did for your parents, as this time it was fucking worse, painfully and all alone and for no way for him to get to you and comfort you— to tell you it was okay to cry and that he loved you, to tell you to be happy, to be hopeful for the future and hopeful to the thought of spending the rest of your lives together and being meant to be.

but instead he had to watch you wail and scream in your pillow every night with no saving, clutching his clothes and things and picture frames, you making yourself sick as the grief was too much to bare— everything that your parents had said to you and taught you about the afterlife meaning absolutely jack shit as the workings of supposed fate took away the only thing that ever made you happy.

satoru’s dream was to live with you. and it was taken away from him so brutally that he went absolutely nuts in the netherworld.

because yes he violated every single fucking undead law in the book and jumped over restricted gates and strange passage ways and doors, shoved through emotionless security guards, ignored juno’s warnings, and yes he tricked a living human being so he could exchange souls with him—

all for the sole purpose of getting back to you.

it was always for you.

and now, him sitting next to you with an anxious waiting expression, your body and mind now feeling the effects of not having seen him for three entire years and the way your conscious mind grieved for him and his return, his skin sickishly pale and cold but still so handsome nonetheless… absolutely broke you.

it broke you as you let out a strangled hiccup and covered your mouth tightly with both hands, eyes squeezing painfully shut as you reeled over and wailed with a broken heart, for you were mourning the loss of him all over again.

“baby no please—” he quickly caught you and brought you to his chest, his breathing erratic and with the biggest lump in his throat. “see? i didn’t want you to remember i— i wanted you to forget—

you continued to bawl and borderline scream out in agony, his words meaning absolutely nothing at this moment as your mind wouldn’t quit flashing painful memories through your mind, memories that were once entirely missing as they suffocated you with displays of satoru in his grave over and over and over again.

“i can’t—” he frantically looked around for something, anything that would make you feel better before looking back down. “look at me—”

“why did you leave?!” you wailed, pushing him away as the sight of you drowning in your tears ripped him to shreds. “why did you abandon me toru?! why did you—”

“i’m sor—” his voice gave out and he placed a hand over his heart, tears slipping from his eyes. “i’m sorry i’m so sorry i— i never wanted to leave—”

he reached out and tugged you in again, your body slumping against his as he struggled over his sobs.

“i didn’t want to die i tried so hard not to die—”

his words only made you cry harder as he gripped you tighter and shut his mouth, his frame trembling against yours and his tears trickling down and wetting your hair.

“you left me! you were supposed to come— hic— to come get me! you were supposed to marry me!—”

you were babbling mindlessly at this point, your shattered heart taking over the words that were tumbling out of your mouth as you gripped and clawed at his suit, trying to bury yourself in his skin and stay there where you belonged.

he was too cold. and you couldn’t hear a heart beat.

satoru could only cry and bawl with you as he gently rocked you side to side, knowing that there was nothing he could do to make you feel better, and nothing he could do to come back to life.

no matter how much he wanted it.

no matter how much you wanted it.

this is what fate had decided for the two of you.

“i tried so hard.” he mumbled. “i never stopped trying to get to you that’s why juno hates me so much because i’ve violated fucking everything.”

he pressed his lips to your forehead and laid his cheek on it after.

“i got sent to the attic and i couldn’t look after you anymore and i didn’t even get the chance to let you see me either—”

besides the fact that he took your memories, that explained why you never saw his spirit after he died, and you quickly pulled back again and narrowed your bloodshot eyes at him.

“why did you take my memories i never— hic!— i never asked you to i never wanted—”

“because i didn’t want you to grieve over me pretty…” he gently wiped your cheeks while you cried. “you were hurting so much and it was torture watching you suffer like that.”

you sniffled and wiped your eyes with the base of your palm.

“i wanted to see you happy…” satoru finished off.

“was i?”

he dropped his hands and frowned.

“were you?”

“no!” you muttered. “my entire life i’ve felt like something was missing and i didn’t know why… like this— this block in my brain that i couldn’t figure out and it was always just empty and like something was supposed to be there.”

you tucked your hair behind your ear and solemnly looked down, a pulsing headache racking through you from how much you were crying.

“i had to live with the fact that i was alone and that i never had anyone… and i had accepted that too… only this entire time i did have someone. you.”

and oddly enough, through everything that happened— all of the memories that you now remembered and the devastating death of your late boyfriend, you finally felt a little bit less strange and unusual.

because you always thought that something was wrong with you for feeling the way that you did, for craving something— someone that never existed, for wanting to fill the void that you now know satoru once happily sat in, all of these things now officially clicking into place and bringing you the weirdest sense of peace you had probably ever felt.

“i wish you never made me forget.” you mumbled. “you’re worth remembering toru…. even if it hurts me.”

he guiltily nodded and sniffed. “m’sorry… i thought you were better off forgetting.”

a part of him still does, because the small glimpses he caught of you no longer crying and just simply living after he took your memories away, was enough to bring him a tiny sense of relief just before he got banished to the attic, hopeful that you would live a long and happy life even if it was painfully without him.

but the minute he sensed you coming up to the house earlier that night with him thinking he was going absolutely insane and if it was truly you, was also enough to send all of that out the fucking window and falling back into a pit of despair and longing for you when he finally saw you again— for the first time in three years, looking just as pretty as he remembered and a little more grown up.

you slowly shook your head side to side, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck and him immediately responding, snaking them around your waist and pulling your warm beating body flush against his chest.

“do you still love me?” he murmured. “even though i’m dead?”

you slightly snorted, softly kissing his cheek.

“i’ll always love you toru. wherever you are.”

“i’ll always love you.”

he pulled back and gently smiled, eyes flickering to your soft lips as he juggled in his mind if it was okay to kiss you, every fiber of his undead being begging for it after missing and wishing it for so long, left with only recollections of your kisses to suffice through the years that he spent without you and wondering if he still had the right to— since even though you were once his, and he shamelessly still considered you his, he didn’t know if you were on the same page.

but you were.

it would be stupid not to be.

you leaned your pretty little face closer to his, timid doe eyed gaze looking at him so fondly that it brought back that same familiar feeling he felt with you those years ago, his hands coming up and settling themselves on your warm lively cheeks, holding you like fragile porcelain.

but were his dead lips still worthy of yours? even after everything he’d done?

“toru.”

he hummed.

“do you remember our first kiss?”

“uh huh.” he breathed out softly. “it was in my room.”

“i think—” your nose brushed with his. “i think we should have our second first kiss.”

he bit his bottom lip and smiled.

“you think so?”

“i do.”

he hummed again, his thumb gently grazing over your plushy lips.

“i think it should look a little more like the first time.”

he tilted his head to the side a tiny bit and a delicate gust of wind brushed through your hair, your surroundings now completely and miraculously morphed into his room with the both of you sitting on his bed— just like how you remembered it and basically had grown up in as you slowly took in your surroundings.

“how the fuck—”

he laughed a little, lifting one hand and keeping the other still on your cheek, his index finger lightly tapping the center of your forehead.

“mind manipulation pretty.” he grinned. “cool huh? i poked in your head again.”

“yeah!” you giggled. “very cool.”

“you know what else would be cool?”

“what?”

“if you gave me a little kiss.”

you tilted your head to the side and leaned in again, your breath fanning across his face and your lips so close but not quite that it was fucking excruciating.

“you want a kiss toru?”

“uh huh.”

“how bad— mmph!—”

satoru didn’t even let you finish that sentence as he stuffed his tongue in your mouth greedily, wet and messy kisses smacking through the room as he cradled your jaw, cold lips delving all over yours and him giddy over the sensation of your warm mouth in comparison to his, your hands clutching his blazer and making out so sensually as you made up for the time that was stolen from you.

and the only thing the two of you felt in each others arms then was serenity— one pumping, working heart and the other stiff, unmoving and cold, still equally beating for one another even through the restrictions of death, for satoru’s heart continued to move and love you regardless of how lifeless it may have appeared.

he suddenly pulled away, breathless.

“sweets?”

“yeah?”

“where in the actual fuck did you meet rin?”

you laughed, pulling back a bit to look at him with a regretful look. “knowing what i know now, i’m sick to my stomach toru.”

“did you meet him after i died?”

you nodded. “he was in one of my literature classes… and since back then i only remembered living my life— alone, i guess he was the first person that didn’t make me feel that way. at the start.”

“lame.” he mumbled. “you cheated on me sweets.”

“no!” you laughed again, giving him a little pout. “he was awful. horrendous. and i only stayed because i didn’t wanna be alone again… even though i shouldn’t have.”

you leaned and gave him a soft tiny lingering peck.

“did you love him?” he murmured against your lips, and you shook your head.

“remembering you again made me realize what being in love with someone was supposed to feel like.” you reached and brushed through the front stands of his white hair mindlessly. “and it was no where near what i felt for rin. i didn’t feel anything for him actually.”

he pursed his lips to the side, eyes squinting in thought and distaste.

“hmmm…”

you giggled. “what toru?”

he hated that you got associated with a guy like that, and hated even more that rin was kissing and hugging and touching you whenever the fuck he wanted when you were his first.

“i’m gonna haunt him for the rest of his life.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and nudged him. “honestly? do it. he sucks.”

“and you know what else sweets?”

you quirked a little brow. “what?”

“i’m gonna make you forget!”

“toru!” you giggled. “no more taking memor—“

satoru leaned his face closer to yours and you froze up, wide eyed as a little mischevious glint in his vibrant blue gaze made you fidget.

he slowly grinned and tilted his head, lips coming closer to the side of your ear and tantalizingly hovering, arms snaking around your torso and pulling you up against him.

“did you let him touch you pretty?”

“t—touch?—”

“mhm.” he gripped you a little tighter. “did you?”

“um.” you squirmed a bit, your body turning hot in the matter of seconds. “what— what do you mean—”

“did you let him fuck you.”

your breath hitched and your cheeks went pink, hands timidly resting flat on his chest and feeling a little… guilty.

“maybe—” you paused, shaky breaths blowing through your nose. “maybe once—”

satoru shot up to stand and hauled you with him, a squeal slipping past your lips as he hiked you up and brought your legs around his waist, walking across the room in quick strides and plopping you down roughly on his desk, kicking away his chair and it slamming against the wall as it rolled back.

“toru?—”

“why can’t i make you forget… hm?” he grazed his lips from your jaw and up the side of your cheek, feather like as he squeezed and kneaded at your thighs, your heart fucking hammering against your chest.

“why would you wanna remember being with someone else other than me baby…”

“i— i don’t but you erased my memories—”

he pulled back and tutted, head shaking and fingers drumming against your thighs. “doesn’t matter! should’ve avoided them like the plague silly.”

you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him gently in.

“i would’ve if i remembered.”

“remember this remember that—” he smiled brightly and brought his face close to yours once more.

“y’know what?” he cutely pecked your lips. “i’m gonna help you remember something!”

your brows pinched momentarily in curiosity. “what?”

“that i’m the only man that ever gets to fuck you.”

satoru smashed his lips against yours and pulled you in tight, the bulge in his dress pants abundantly obvious as he grinded and rutted his aching cock on your clothed pussy, you gasping in his mouth at the feeling as you tried to keep up with his feverish fast kisses.

he slipped his icy hands underneath your top and you jumped at the change in temperature, satoru ravishing you up and obsessed with the heat your body produced and radiated, leaving him toasty for once and bringing a faux sense of life to him.

“did you forget that too?” he murmured against your lips, hands ever so slowly creeping up and sliding under your bra to grope your plump tits. “how i feel?”

“nuh uh.” you breathed out. “i didn’t—”

“tell me what you remember then sweets…”

he slid his hands back down and hiked your skirt up, you lifting your hips a little to help him bring it up as high as he possibly could, your pretty little panties tight and suffocating your pussy as his fingers came down to play with your swollen needy clit.

“i remember—” your mouth hung open, words lodging in your throat.

“hm?” he shoved his hand in your panties and your eyes fluttered closed, him placing open wet mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest, your mind unable to grasp the amount of pleasure he was getting out with simply just his fingers, pleasure you missed so fucking badly as he slipped his digits up and down your folds.

“your dick—” satoru pushed two fingers inside of you and you whined. “i remember the way you felt.”

“yeah?” he pulled back from your chest and grinned, fingers squelching as they pumped in and out. “and how did i feel?”

“big.” you choked out, legs spreading wider as you gripped the edge of his desk, his frenzied lust filled eyes drinking in the way you unraveled and crumbled before him.

something he was positive rin didn’t even come fucking close to.

“aww.” he cooed, digits speeding up as you squealed and tried to close your legs, him prying them open again. “bet you missed the way i filled you full huh? stretched you out so good?”

you rapidly nodded, eyebrows contorted in ecstasy as your thighs shook.

“anything else you missed baby?”

arousal trickled down your folds at this point, making an absolute mess out of his fingers.

“your hands— heave— on my neck when you’d fuck me—”

a shiver ran down his spine at your words, his cock so fucking hard and aching as it begged him to let it spring free and bury itself in your hole.

“my god…” he whispered. “i bet your slutty little self wants me to fuck you right now right? stuff you up and make you cum on my dick like i used to?”

with each word your hole was clenching and screaming for his cock, your hands quickly shooting out to pull and unbuckle at his belt, him laughing as he continued to finger your pussy while loosening up the collar of his tie.

“you’re so needy.”

you pouted, embarrassed as you pulled your hands away and brattily tugged at his wrist to take his fingers out.

“i take it back—”

“no!” he quickly yanked his belt off and flung it, his fingers unzipping his pants and taking out his solid dick. “hell no please i need to be inside you—“

he lined his cock up and without warning pushed, your hands flying to grip his shoulders for support and crying out at the mere size of him, his dick icy in between your gummy walls that somehow added a whole new wave of pleasure for you.

“hard toru.” you whined. “please i can’t— i—”

“i know baby i know.” he gripped your hips and snapped his hips up, your moans fueling him as he plunged in your hole and took no time in fucking you in just the way he knew you liked it, proud of the fact that your pussy still took every single inch of him like he’d trained you— almost like she recognized whose dick was actually for you and not some other fucking morons.

“you’re not screwing anybody else anymore, you hear me sweets?” he tapped your cheek to get you to look at him, you completely dazed and fucked out as you tried to hold eye contact with him amidst his drilling cock. “should’ve only been me… living or dead i don’t care.”

you nodded dumbly, you leaning and kissing him sloppily and desperately that you muffled his next words, refusing to detach from his mouth.

“did you— mmph— let him cum inside?”

you didn’t answer, not because you were afraid to, but because his dick was silencing you as you hiccuped and spasmed with every slam of his hips, satoru a horny goner and pinning everything all on you even when it was literally his fault he erased your memories in the first place, fuming over the thought of you tainted by another man that he wanted to perform a full fucking cleanse.

he rammed inside of you faster against the desk as you separated from his lips and clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“don’t tell me you let him cum inside you little slut—”

“i didn’t!” you heaved. “i didn’t i didn’t—”

“good baby!” he cheered, a complete contrast to his menacing tone from seconds before. “so you do love me.”

“i do! i love you i love you i love yo—”

his unbeating heart soared.

“you love me?”

“uh— hic!— uh huh—“

“even when i’m dead?”

you nodded vigorously, feeling your orgasm starting to bubble up in your tummy as you choked and squirmed.

“perfect my sweet little thing…” he cooed once more, him literally lightheaded over the way you clenched around his cock. “make a mess all over me baby i’ve been dreaming of your cute cunt for three fucking years—”

you wrapped your arms around him by the neck again and moaned, burying your face in his neck as he placed two palms on your bent knees and spread your plushy thighs further apart, jack hammering you and so mean about it as you shook violently against him and came, heaves and sobs of pleasure racking through your body as he threw his head back and groaned.

“you want me to cum inside you?” he asked. “fill you up just like i used to?”

“yes! please please—”

“oh fucking well.”

he pulled out of you and your eyes bulged open, his dick shiny and covered in your juices as he grabbed your upper arm and yanked you down on your knees.

“you’re gonna suck me off and swallow what i give you for letting rin’s filthy hands on you.”

satoru tapped his dick against your cheek to get you to open up, you listening and opening your mouth as he shoved his cock inside and placed a hand on the back of your head, fucking your mouth as you choked and gagged on his length and loving every second of it.

“goooddd baby.” he whispered, your slobbering so nasty as he watched drool dribble down your chin. “so good…”

you gulped him down and lathered your tongue around while he used you, his balls swollen and twitching and him needing to dump his cum in your mouth for you to swallow.

“remember when we used to do this every night?” he smiled wickedly. “when i’d make you swallow me up?”

you hummed around him and tried to nod, eager for his release and wanting to show him that you in fact did remember— wanting it just as bad as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked him harder.

“h— oh my god—” he fisted your hair and shivered, letting you take over and milk him for all his worth. “i’m gonna— jesus baby slow— slow down slow down— hah!”

satoru’s release shot to the back of your throat and you choked, blinking back tears as you gradually slowed your pace and continued to deliciously suck him through his orgasm and gulp down his cum, him with a death grip on the edge of his desk as he heaved and swallowed, hips jittery and twitching away from you— tip now overly sensitive.

you licked up the last of his cum and stood back up, shimming your skirt back down and satoru shakily stuffing his softened dick back in his pants and zipping it, eyes softening once you reached up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his over your waist and squeezing you gently.

“so you’re telling me.” you began. “that you haven’t had sex in three years and you fucked me like that?”

he snickered and smoothed a hand over your back. “it’s my instinct sweets! and also because i’m sure rin did a horrendous freaking job—”

you laughed and rolled your eyes, kissing his cheek before looking at him fully.

“i’m serious you know.”

he raised a brow. “about what?”

“about marrying you. even more so now.”

and just when he was about to pick you up and spin you around and jump up and down, he stilled— face sickishly paling more than it already was.

because satoru was keeping something else from you… a condition between the living and the dead and one he overlooked entirely because he was selfishly desperate for you and just wanted you with him again, like the way he had you when he was alive.

“what toru?”

“huh?” his eyes snapped to yours, and he quickly shook his head. “oh nothing nothing!”

his mind was frantically pushing it to the back, ignoring it and wanting to go through with the one thing he’d practically been dreaming of his entire living and dead life— marriage with you.

this was fine. this was okay.

right?

“white or black.”

you tilted your head. “what?”

“you’ll see… but choose!” he grinned. “white or black?”

a slow giddy smile grew on your face.

“black.”

satoru waved his hand and you stilled, the clothes on your skin changing and morphing into something completely anew, your eyes landing on his black and white button up suit now and head quickly dropping down to yourself— gasping once it registered in your flabbergasted brain.

you were wearing a black wedding gown, beautiful and classy as you picked up and felt the soft silk material between your fingertips, your tule sheer veil intricate as you looked behind you then— it long and stretching for what seemed like miles across the floor with gorgeous embroidery at the base of it.

it was heavenly.

your gaze snapped back to his, and he smiled fondly, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers.

“three times.” he murmured, and you picked up on what he was referring to, tightening your grip on his hand and nodding.

“beetlejuice beetlejuice beetlejuice.”

and the room spun around you, so astronomically fast that you almost doubled over in stifling nausea as the wind whipped through your hair and veil, expecting to land in the attic and finally outside that damn model when in reality, you were in a church cathedral as soon as your surroundings had stopped spinning… and one that looked exactly like the one in winter river.

“are we…” you looked around. “are we still in the model?”

he shook his head. “nope! i was focusing my mind here when you were saying my name… we’re in winter river baby.”

you smiled, the atmosphere around you soft and serene as the dimly lit candles around you quietly flickered, a random lilac colored hue across the cathedral and one you assumed was placed by satoru himself as he took your hands in his, almost in a haste too, but choosing to brush the observation aside.

this was wrong… and satoru knew it.

but he pushed it to the back of his head again.

“we are gathered here today—”

“shit!”

you jumped and whipped your head to the side, breathing out and shoulders relaxing once you saw it was just your church’s pastor that you’d known since birth— a strange far off look in his eye that you deemed to be something that satoru did, for there was no way he was up at the crack of fucking dawn right now to do a wedding.

“sorry!” you laughed. “is he… is he okay?”

“oh yeah he’s fine! he’s actually still sleeping.” he let go of one of your hands and patted the pastors head. “i’m manipulating his head for a little bit. just until you’re my wife.”

his wife.

you nodded, cheeks so warm as you tried to refrain from jumping over how excited you were at the thought of finally fulfilling the vows you had placed on each other when you were young— them now nurturing into something real.

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the love of satoru gojo and y/n y/m in holy matrimony.”

he shouldn’t do this to you.

“today, they declare their intention to build a life together, sharing their joys and their challenges, and supporting one another in pursuit of their dreams.”

he can’t— he can’t build a life with you… can he?

he pushed his worries back again and gripped your hands tighter.

“do you, satoru gojo, take y/n y/m to be your lawfully wedded wife? do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, through sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

this is wrong.

but he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

“i do.”

“and do you, y/n y/m, take satoru gojo to be your lawfully wedded husband? do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, through sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?”

for as long as you both shall live.

satoru can’t live.

“i d—”

“stop.”

you froze.

“what?” you asked worriedly. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m no better than the man i was when i first died.”

the look in his eyes was… odd, and it only further confused you.

“i don’t—”

“i can’t let you marry me baby.”

your heart dropped.

“what?”

“i told you that if you married me it would break my contract and i would be a free man and that’s true…” he began. “but there’s something else that i didn’t tell you... i— i kept it from you.”

oh fuck.

“what are you talking about toru.” your voice was low and heedful, almost like a warning to him, and he wanted to slam his head against the wall for being so fucking reckless again.

“if you—” he breathed in and shook his head, letting go of your hands and letting his fall tight at his sides, balling up. “if you marry me, you’re freeing me…”

he gnawed at his lip.

“but i’m killing you.”

your blood ran cold and drained from your face, words entirely at a loss and useless as your brain tried to process what the fuck he just told you.

kill you?

“marrying me is like exchanging your soul with the dead.” satoru slowly shook his head. “you’ll die sweets… i can’t— i can’t do that to you.”

satoru was desperate to for you, so much so that he was willing to hide such a detrimental part of the marriage clause until the time came, choosing to play freaking stupid and tune it out in the hopes that in the end, he would be brave enough to go through with it just to keep you and not ever have to say goodbye again.

but it was wrong. so incredibly immoral and wrong and he felt like a monster for even trying to do it, for letting it go as far as it did and have you standing there in front of him in your pretty gown and veil— just like how he’d imagined it when his blood was pumping and his heart was beating, and just like how he’d imagined it even now, shriveled up dead veins and all.

this is what fate had chosen for the two of you.

and though it took forever for satoru to accept it… you and him were simply not meant to be.

for you were meant to live, and satoru was meant to die.

“you disgraceful bafoon! you insolent crook!”

the big doors of the cathedral kicked open and juno walked through, adam and barbara maitland running behind her and trying to pull her back, the both of them spouting reasonings and explanations.

“this is her choice juno!—”

“she wants to let her do it!—”

“the kid’s just in love!—”

“button it or i’m sending you back to the house!” juno grumbled at them, turning back around and pointing menacingly at satoru once she reached you both, her brittle old lady perfume wafting in your nostrils.

“juno!” satoru greeted with faux cheerfulness, eyes wide and alarmed. “good to see you hah! you look livelier than the last time i saw y—”

“what the hell do you think you’re doing boy?” she spat, eyes switching to you next. “and you! young lady— this man is a spirit!”

“i—i know—”

“juno they know each other.” barbara spoke up gently. “they grew up together when he was alive.”

“yes they were in a relationship this isn’t him trying to trick her into anything—”

“no but it is.” satoru exhaustedly whined, cutting adam off as he ran his hands through his snowy hair. “she didn’t know about the clause… i just told her now.”

silence.

“you didn’t tell her about the clause?!—”

“are you out of your mind you cockroach?!—”

“you’re doing what you did before!—”

“i know!” satoru exclaimed over the yells of scolding and belittlement. “i know i know that’s why i told her just now… i’m not letting her do it i— i couldn’t.”

he turned to you.

“baby i want you. i need you and that’s why i didn’t say anything like a fucking dingbat because i’m tired of living forever without you... it sucks.”

you felt tears prickle at your eyes.

“but this isn’t fair to you at all. you deserve to live man… i can’t— i won’t drag you down with me.”

“toru—”

“the living and the dead were never meant to coexist.” juno interjected, her gaze looking at satoru sincerely for once that it was a strange sight for him.

she placed a hand on her chest. “i’m sorry that your love was separated by death, truly. i sympathize with you. i can’t think of anything more cruel.”

you both solemnly nodded.

“but the living and the dead were never meant to coexist.” she repeated. “so even though you two move on from this and go back to being what you are, satoru will stay like this and you will not. you will grow.”

juno addressed you directly and you listened with a heavy heart— the use of satoru’s actual given name now from her instead of ‘beetlejuice’ adding a layer of somber seriousness.

“and let’s just say this clause didn’t exist and you get to marry her and she stays alive… satoru will still stay and you will grow. do you both understand what i’m trying to say?”

you quickly wiped the corner of your eyes, satoru peeking over at you sadly.

“i won’t tell you what i think the right choice is young lady.” she continued. “the dead aren’t even supposed to associate with the living like this… but weigh the consequences of either path and see which one you want to walk in.”

she stepped a bit closer, holding eye contact with you.

“but let me make one thing clear— the power of the living is greater than the dead. if you choose to marry him, you will break his contract forever and free him of his violations. but if you do, you will die and be one of us.”

either path is difficult.

to sacrifice his freedom, or to sacrifice your life?

but you knew that a life without satoru was nothing and bleak…. you had lived it for three years.

were you willing to return to that? just to keep your heart beating? and say goodbye to satoru for good?

you didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t have him in it. you didn’t want to live in a world where you remembered satoru for longer than you’d known him, and the thought only made you absolutely sick to your stomach as you envisioned the rest of your life without the person who knew you best.

it was almost easy… you didn’t have to weigh the consequences at all.

your path was satoru.

“we’re getting married.”

“what?!” satoru frantically shook his head. “no sweets no we’re not.”

“yes we are.” you pushed. “this isn’t for you to decide it’s my choice and i choose you—”

“and i’m not letting you.” he countered. “you’re choosing wrong so unbelievably wrong—”

“but i’m not though!” you argued. “literally explain to me right now how me stuck in a world that doesn’t have you in it is better than—”

“y/n you need to live.” he cut you off. “i died, not you it’s not supposed to be you alright? i can’t let you do this.”

tears slipped from your eyes and you wiped them right away.

“do you not— sniff— do you not want me do you want me to go away what—”

“no…” he stepped forward and cupped your cheeks. “that’s the last thing i want and you know that…”

“then why won’t you marry me?” you hiccuped. “why won’t you let me stay with you?”

“baby— life is so unbelievably precious.” he moved strands of your hair away from your face. “do you have any idea what i would give to have it again? to feel my body actually working for a change instead of it just being nothing?”

you continued to cry, your hands clutching his wrists.

“i don’t want you to take that away from yourself because of me… i want you breathing. i want your little heart pumping and your cheeks warm, i want you to move on.”

“i— hic!— i don’t want to move on from you—”

“you have to sweets.” he quickly wiped his eyes before cupping your cheeks again. “we’re not meant to be baby and i hate so much that we aren’t… and i’m sorry.”

“toru stop it—”

“please live for me okay? for the both of us. and don’t forget me either please don’t forget me—”

“why are you—” you harshly wiped your eyes. “why are you talking like that what are you doing—”

“i don’t think i should be around you anymore baby.”

“huh?!” your eyes narrowed. “are you serious?”

“satoru—”

juno raised a hand, stopping barbara from interjecting.

“it won’t be good for either of us if i stick around...” he sniffled. “i need to stay away from you because if i don’t, i might try to trick you again into giving up your soul and i can’t have that.”

“my soul?” you spat. “take it i don’t want it without you i told you already—”

“please try to understand.” he placed a soft kiss to your forehead. “please.”

“no—”

“i’ll see you soon okay?” satoru let go of your face. “graduate please. have kids and get married and stuff… travel.”

you were supposed to do all of that with him.

“satoru no listen to me!—”

“i love you.”

“stop!—”

satoru’s grief was monumental, but his love for you was greater, choosing to let you go for the sake of your life.

he looked to juno and she sighed through her nose, somehow knowing exactly what he was silently asking for, stepping forward and lifting a hand.

“satoru please i wanna stay with you!—”

juno sharply moved her hand to the side and you were pulled to a blinding white abyss, dream like and fuzzy as you felt all muscles in your body relax, your mind completely blank and free of the heartbreak and loss and sorrow for a little, floating through a cloud of soft serenity as it brought you in and tried to clear the pain in your heart.

you weren’t aware of where you were or what juno had done, but your thoughts were distant and muffled as you let it engulf you entirely in its welcoming arms, you sleepy and drowsy until the blinding white abyss slowly shrunk down to a pure black, quiet void, the nerves in your body twitching little by little until you were finally consciously aware of your limbs and mind, but you too tired still to open your eyes.

you cruelly dreamed of satoru still. of him alive.

and you weren’t sure how long you had been in this weird pit of tranquility, or how long you were asleep for until you were jerked awake and ripped from it entirely.

“hey— y/n?”

you shot awake, sitting up and whipping your head around.

you were back in your dorm.

“are you okay? why are you sleeping on the floor?”

you looked up, your roommate standing there with a weirded out expression.

“and what are you wearing?”

your gaze shifted downward, and the minute you saw your black wedding dress and veil folded neatly next to you, memories of what had happened hours prior came achingly flooding in as you scrambled to stand up on your feet, scaring your roommate and leaving her to grumble in her head about how she wished the system didn’t put her to room with the campus ghost girl.

“sorry! i have to go thank you though for waking me u—”

your voice trailed off down the hall, you running through and ignoring the weirded out looks from other students as you sprinted out of the building and down the street, engulfing the skirt of your gown up in your arms so you wouldn’t accidentally trip over it and eat shit on the ground, the goal of getting back to the maitland’s house the only thing on your mind as you ran.

your lungs burned by the time you got to the bottom of the hill, and you thanked anyone that was willing to listen for allowing winter river to exist as the smallest town you had ever known, sparing you from running a full fledged marathon just to get to the house as you heaved and tried to catch your breath, a little sweaty and hot as you began the hike up the hill.

you hoped he was there.. in the attic.

you hoped to god that he was.

reaching the top, you continued to trudge across the dirt driveway and up the porch steps, your foot lifting and just about to make contact with the old wooden platform until an invisible force grabbed your ankle and pulled you back, literally dragging you away from the house and down the hill over the grass as you screamed and thrashed for it to let you go.

satoru.

and you tried again, hiking up the hill with your bundled up wedding skirt in your arms, reaching the top faster than last time and choosing to run up the porch steps instead to see if you could outrun his ghostly abilities.

except you couldn’t, because the invisible force caught you by the ankle again just as your fingers grazed the doorknob, yanking you away and down the hill until it left you screaming and huffing in frustration at the bottom.

you continued to do that for the rest of the fucking day, and everyday for that matter, for an entire week straight.

walking up the hill, reaching the top, getting reeled back, running up the hill and getting sent back down again, sprinting for it only to get dragged away once more as the repeated cycle you had set for yourself happened over and over, until by your last attempt you couldn’t even walk up the hill anymore, satoru having put a huge invisible wall around the house that was impossible to get through.

you were angry. angry and bitter that he was doing this.

was it so bad to just want to spend the rest of your undying life with him? is that not what he wanted this entire time? why was he so adamant on damning you to live a life of suffering and— and loneliness? a life without him?

you didn’t know what to do. your psychic abilities were only for sensing the dead and being able to see them— nothing to do with calling forth spirits or summoning them at any given place and time, so there was no way for you to call satoru no matter how much you wanted to or tried.

and you cried. you cried and you sobbed just like how you did when he first died, except somehow worse knowing that there was a chance to be together with him forever and him not wanting it… not wanting you.

but you waited anyways, hoping that he would come around and change his mind, that he would bring down that stupid invisible wall and let you inside the house and back to him, counting down the days and hours and minutes until it became clearer to you that satoru wasn’t going to change his mind.

and by the third week, you had almost entirely given up.

you felt nothing. absolutely nothing as you slugged through your classes or your day to day errands, not giving a shit about anything that you had to do in this world for you had always loved the other world more— the world of spirits and the netherworld and the great beyond, the world that had satoru in it, as you appreciated and admired that one more ever since you were a kid with your parents… more than the one you were currently in— as this one was filled with ignorance and criticism.

you felt helpless… and maybe satoru was right.

if he was willing to give up an opportunity to keep you forever, then maybe that’s just the way it goes… maybe you should just accept it, and you choosing to think of the latter instead of begging and kneeling at nothing for satoru to come back and get you and marry you— was helping the bitterness in your heart grow and get you by, it at least stopping you from crying in the middle of your lectures or the grocery store and weirding people out anyways.

maybe you should accept the fact that you and him were not meant to be.

after an entire month, you had given up.

and satoru’s grave was the closest you knew you’d get to him, permanently divided by dirt and soil and grass… six feet under and totally out of your reach, his tombstone engraved and pretty and one you couldn’t believe you had forgotten about as it sat here alone for years right under your nose— you visiting it now for the millionth time as you placed your book bag down and sat criss crossed on the grass, mindlessly tugging and breaking off pieces of it as you sat there.

you sighed deeply and hugged your knees up to your chest, the day surprisingly a sunny one as chirping birds flittered past you through the wind, tiny little white butterflies occasionally stopping by to sit on your arm or satoru’s tombstone as you sat there in thought… not really sure what to think, but comforted by the fact that the engravings on his stone reminded you that he was once very much alive and real.

there was an odd wavering in your heart, and you had a feeling that this was going to be the last time you were visiting his grave, for you figured it was time to finally do what he wanted you to do— move on and forget him.

“don’t move on.”

you stiffened.

that voice… was your mind hallucinating now? jesus chri—

“don’t move on from me please… and— and don’t forget me. i take it all back.”

you heard footsteps draw nearer across the grass and you turned your head, eyes widening and unbelieving as you saw satoru standing there with a pleading anxious expression, him still dressed in his black and white suit that he had on for the wedding.

was it actually him?

“how are you…” you trailed off, your mind having difficulty processing how he was there. “how are you outside the house? i thought the contract—”

“juno gave me a hall pass…” he explained softly. “it expires at the end of the day.”

you hummed, itching to jump up and wrap your arms around him and cling to him, but stopping yourself from doing so as you still didn’t know why he was here, and you were quite frankly still bitter and hurt from him sending you away.

you slightly turned your body. “why are you here?”

“because i can’t stay away from you.”

your heart skipped a beat as he crouched down to your level, your eyes greedily running across every feature of his face and committing it to memory, as you now had him directly in front of you again instead of having to rely on recollections of him to try and mend your aching heart.

and satoru was doing the same.

“i started to sense you distancing from me and… and i had this feeling that you were starting to listen and move on and forget me and it made me fucking ill. which is crazy because i’m dead… but i was literally ill sweets.”

you let a tiny soft smile play at your lips.

“i can’t take it.” he spoke again, shaking his head. “i can’t take the thought of you forgetting me. not now, not ever, and i don’t know why i was stupid enough to try and convince myself that i could watch you do something like that even if its the right thing.”

“you sent me away.”

“i did baby…” he reached over and gently caressed your cheek. “and i regret that so fucking much. i’m sorry.”

“toru i need you to understand that you can’t make choices like that for me.”

“i know.” he mumbled and dropped his hand, eyes casting down. “i’m stupid.”

“but i also need you to understand, that i have no interest in living in a world that doesn’t have you in it… it’s not worth it now that you’re gone.”

you tilted your head to try and catch his gaze, continuing once his blue eyes flickered back to yours.

“i would die for you, and i would die without you. i look for you in everything that i do and you expecting me to just forget you is cruel.”

“no i don’t want you to forget me anym—”

“what’s life to you?” you asked him suddenly. “what does it feel to you? and mean?”

he stared at you with pinched brows, his face endearing but sad all at the same time.

“warm.” he murmured. “beautiful and… pure. it’s peaceful and it means you.”

your heart fluttered and you smiled, and satoru fell in love with you all over again— something you conquered when he was alive, and something you conquered again in death.

“that’s what life is toru.” you cupped his cheek. “to me it’s not— this.”

you gestured around you. “it’s not my body or my heart, it’s not the sun and it’s not breathing. it’s you. i feel life through you and i always have… because life doesn’t literally mean where i am now and neither does it mean the netherworld baby… it means you and me.”

satoru didn’t even realize he was crying until you wiped his cheeks, your words serving an entirely new perspective to him about the living and the dead and he felt peace.

because yes satoru was dead… but he was still living. living because he had you as the embodiment of it, and living because his soul still permitted him to see you again and be with you, to look at you with his own undead eyes and feel warmth like he did before.

but not literal warmth from your body or pumping blood or a beating heart.

but warmth from your soul. from who you are.

that’s what life was to him… and what life was to you.

satoru wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you to his chest, one hand on the back of your head as he cradled you and cried, finally now no longer mourning his past life like he’d been doing for the past three years, and no longer wishing for it back either or thinking that physically living in this world was the better option for you just because it meant you were breathing.

where he was, was just fine. and wherever you chose to go would be fine too.

but you chose to go with him, something that had been set since the moment you met under the magnolia tree back in middle school— living or dead, paris or italy, your choice would always and forever be him.

satoru proposed to you right then and there at his gravesite, flying to one knee as soon as you both stood back up and him manifesting the biggest diamond rock you had ever seen in your life, laughing and crying together as he slipped it over your ring finger, for your marriage meant the binding of the living and the dead, and the binding of you and him— a new beginning.

but this time your wedding wasn’t at the cathedral, but under the pretty magnolia tree where you had met, now accompanied by the maitlands as barbara cried, and juno as she herself officiated the wedding, you thinking— hoping that she grew a soft spot for satoru, and that behind her stern resting face, she was glad satoru was finally a free man and granted a second chance.

giving your soul up was nothing to you, and it didn’t hurt at all either… you feeling lighter in exchange actually… happy, with satoru standing in front of you and with a massive fucking grin on his face, shiny and bright as he practically jumped in his spot in excitement over you finally being his wife and that he got to keep you— and right this time… no lies or tricks or hidden secrets, but genuine authentic sacrifice instead, for it was the purest form of love.

because this is what fate had decided for the two of you.

it had decided that satoru gojo was meant to die… but it had also decided to bring you back to him as well— to the house of the maitlands, to the attic he was banished to, and back together again in each others cold arms where you belonged, defying the laws of the living and the dead and proving that life doesn’t end even after your hearts stopped beating.

fate had decided that you were both meant to be. that was always a fact.

and fate had decided that you and satoru gojo were meant to live, with unbeating hearts and icy cold skin, but souls still warm for each other nonetheless.

because through sickness and in health… death could not do you both apart.

you and satoru.

together for eternity.

a lovely and incredibly beautiful fanart of this fic can be found here by @courtneedsleep !! <33

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @saelov3 @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @stilettoheelz @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever @yoonights @skendos @babylambdietcoke @yunstarz @dinomdubs @kalulakunundrum @s777athv @sugoroo @wastednightsonyou @miri222 @jayawaya @dazailover4ever @courtneedsleep @kcch-ns @halovianembrace @tsukuhoe @kayamor @lupicalbestwolf @therealkurapikakurta @amarahi123 @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic

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hoshigray · 6 months ago

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˗ˏˋ ꒰ Do Your Job, Pretty Maid~! ꒱ ˎˊ˗ | jjk men

୨୧ choso, kento, satoru, suguru, sukuna & toji × how their sweet maid takes care of them...or tries to.

contents: JJK men x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference (true form! kuna) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - masturbation - threesome - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - sir/Master kink - sex toys - impact play (spanking) - degradation + humiliation - clitoral play - overstimulation - more stuff specified in their respective perspectives - satoru + suguru's parts are combined.

word count: 5.2k

a. note: going on another trip for two weeks, so here's a lil present while I'm m.i.a :3

₊˚⊹♡ Kamo Chōsō ⋮ oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - pussy-drunk! choso - sqůirtǐng - pet names (baby, cutie, sweetie).

“Choso, please—Mmm…! We mustn’t…”

“Shhh, not so loud, sweetie…”

You cover your quivering mouth with your hands, eyebrows kneading together with toes curled inside your loafers, and thoughts running rampant at the sight of your master’s head buried within your skirt.

You were supposed to be dressing your master for an event that he’s supposed to attend, and you were almost done making him presentable for the occasion, combing his silky brown hair–usually kept in pigtails–down to his nape and spraying him with his cologne before buttoning his white loose long-sleeve.

However, he stopped your hands at the third button, the pale skin of his pectorals present to your eyes. Swiftly, you avert your gaze to his to see what’s wrong, only to yelp when he slumps to his knees and pulls you to him by your lower half, his face nestled to the groin of your skirt.

Of course, you tried to pull him off. “Master Choso, this is not the time!” You lecture him, trying to yank him off without messing up the hair you put so much work into making it nice and tidy! But his arms wrap around your legs tightly, pulling you in further.

“No, I can’t,” you can see the hint of pink enflaming the helixes of his ears. “I need this…need you,” his face is pushed deeper into the crevice of your thighs, the material of your apron and skirt not a bother being an obstacle. “You smell so good…”

“Choso, please, you mustn’t,” your eyes dart to the door to make sure it’s closed – thank God! “You have to get ready for the—“ Your breath hitches when a pair of caramel eyes peer in your direction, half-lidded with intentions that are NOT suitable for this time and place.

“Please, baby,” Oh God, that fucking name he calls you. You chew your lips to repress a whimper. “Just for a few minutes, okay?”

You can only take his words for what they are — an unguaranteed promise to cling to while you sit on Choso’s armchair, mewls escaping past your lips as your master ravishes you inside your skirt.

Choso’s soft lips kiss your wet folds, a shiver rattling your spine as you struggle to compose yourself. Your legs writhe and squirm, his slender hands playing with the garters of your undergarments and grasping the flesh of your thighs. His tongue nestles in between your inner labia, swooshing and slurping whatever his tastebuds can gather. And the groans he makes as he feasts on you are utterly dumbfounding — staggering your senses as his delightful voice travels through the walls of your insides.

Fingers scrape the arms of the chair, and your mouth falls to an ‘o’ shape, yet nothing comes out besides silent wails. His tongue flicks around your clitoris feverishly before sucking on it, and your thighs fight to jerk and clamp his head in. The noises of his feasting get louder and louder, the heat on your face picking up with every lap from the flat of his wet muscle.

“Master Choso…!” The named brunet pushes his tongue into your entrance, and you shrill with feet lifted from the floor. “Nnnm! Not too…fast!”

“Gonna cum, sweetie?” He coos while lathering your cunt with his saliva. “Gonna be good and cum on my tongue, right?”

“Hmmnn, no, not now!” You shake your head — not like he could see it from the barrier of your skirt. “We can’t! You have to be out there…people are waiti—Nnng!”

“I know, baby, I know,” another suck to your clit has your hands grab for the top of his head. “But cum for me this one time, ‘kay? Just one time…”

You couldn’t retort back as he pushed his tongue back inside, fucking you with the muscle to the point of balled fists. Losing balance, you slump on the chair and submit to the pleasure between your legs. Choso holds your legs by the back of your knees, pushing his face further to guzzle and play with your chasm easily. Ohhhh, shiiiit…!

“Ch-Choso, wait a minute!” You lift your skirt to stop the master, but the image of him eating you out did more bad than good. His jaw is wet from being latched to your soapy cunt, and his nose bumping to your clit forces you to twitch. “Wait, stop iiiit…!!” But it’s too late; your muscles contract more frequently than not and then begin to loosen once you hit your peak.

Your eyelids go shut, and you howl as your vagina flutters on Choso’s tongue while your urethra releases a watery substance that sprays around the vicinity of your skirt. Choso gets the better end; the clear liquid hits his face and sprinkles around your thighs and clothes. But that doesn’t stop him from sucking your essence, coating your vaginal walls and his tongue. He moans with you, your trembling figure bucking subtly while he gulps your high.

Mind is wholly fogged, yet your duties and responsibilities remain present, which is why you’re ashamed to see that the master is drenched from your arousal after you’ve put so much effort into making him look dapper — especially his hair, now it’s all messy and a bit wet! “Master, I told you to–ahhh–wait!”

Choso lifts his face and rests your legs on his shoulders, licking his lip and wiping his cheek with his sleeve — not the shirt, too! “Sorry, but you just tasted too good, cutie.”

You groan with a heavy sigh. “…Well, now I must grab a different shirt and fix your hair again. Hope you’re satisfied with yourself.”

“Guilty,” He doesn’t bother hiding the small, charming, cheeky smile; it almost made you forgive him for this endeavor.

₊˚⊹♡ Nanami Kento ⋮ sex toy; vibrator - oral (m! receiving) - masturbation - clitoral play - pet names (baby, love, sweetpea) - cameo: Shoko (phone call).

“…And that’s the report Ijichi handed regarding the last mission.”

“Good. What about from Gojo-san’s part?”

“Hmm, well, he hasn’t been…”

Was Nanami listening to the words Shoko was retelling? Sure. However, that wasn’t where his entire focus was. But then again, he has to ensure your voice isn’t picked up by his phone. After all, he’s sure you wouldn’t want his peer to know you were in the same room as him…thrusting a vibrator into your chasm while sitting on his desk.

You, his maid, came into his office to give him his typical afternoon tea, sprinkling the tea cup with warm water to exfoliate the earl grey and cream aroma. Nanami was busy on a call with Shoko, the doctor, who gave him updates on the missions that had occurred this week. A serious matter that required his attention, of course…well, most of it at least.

His eyes peer at you as you insert two sugar cubes into the tea cup and swirl them around with the spoon, noticing how eerily silent you are. How your fingers lightly tapped on the desk surface, and your lips shook slightly. And he knows why you hadn’t said a word; sure, he was on a call, but that’s not the half of it. The button he presses on the remote stuffed inside his pocket was, though, and your hand on the desk balls into a quick fist.

Now, you look to him, shaken by what he did. Trembly lips open to say, “Master…don’t do that…”

The blonde man lifts his brows, ears deaf to what Shoko’s saying, and presses the button again. This time, your hands rush to your lips to suppress a yelp. Your thighs come together to rub against each other, a gesture that pulls a smile on Nanami’s face.

“…But that’s just typical Gojo fashion, ya know?”

“Honestly, I can’t agree more.” He says aimlessly, too observant with you in his view. “Hold on a second, Ierie-san.” He presses the mute button and crosses his arms. “What’s the matter, sweetpea?”

Knowing that you can finally speak, you whine freely while running to his chest for him to catch you. “Master, pleaseee…!” God, you can’t stop rubbing your thighs!

“What is it, love?” He brings your chin up. Good Lord, you looked so cute and desperate. “Tell me.”

“Please, can I take this off!?” You lift your skirt, and low and behold, your panties are out for display. However, the white wire from your undergarments connected to the clip-on on your garters catches the man’s eyes. “It’s too much…and I can’t work with it!”

He smirks at your complaint and rubs your cheeks. “Sit,” he points to the desk for you to sit on, and you hesitantly follow his orders. Nanami takes the mute off the call. “Sorry, Shoko, something came up on my end, and I gotta take care of it. See you tomorrow?”

“No problem, Kento. Talk to you later.”

Now, with his friend out the way, you can finally have his whole mindfulness. As you spread your legs for him, the man runs a hand through his golden locks. “Show me what’s going on, baby.”

You waste no time in taking your underwear off with your master’s assistance, rolling up to your leg. Without the cotton barrier, your lower regions show the wire stuffed inside your wet cunt. His thumbs come to spread your folds to inspect further. “Damn, you’re so wet for me.”

Your breath hitches as Nanami swipes his fingers around your vulva, coating his digits with your wetness as your nerves are at their peak. “Master Kento, please…remove iiit…!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says with a chuckle, pulling on the wire string ever-so-slowly. You lay on your back as the thing connected to the wire stretches your entrance, peaking out of your hole thanks to the leisure force. Biting back a moan, Nanami pulls out the soft pink bullet vibrator crammed inside your swollen chasm and leaves you breathless for a second, gripping your skirt as your legs shudder. “Look at you, so beautiful.”

“Kentoo…” your hand wraps on his, gripping your thighs. “So good…”

“Yeah, feel good?” He blows on you. “Wanted me to take care of you like always?” You nod hurriedly to his amusement, and he licks your labia for you to wail. “Mmmm, my sweetpea…” Your legs have a mind of their own as Nanami licks your aching folds, bucking lightly to the point of you essentially riding his tongue—the blonde smothers your vulva with slobber, covering your private with him and your juices.

A free hand finds his hair to grab as you throw your head back and sigh heavily, sinking into the feeling of being eaten out by your superior. It feels way too good; after half an hour of having the vibrator stuck inside your slit, you’ve been walking around feeling nothing but sensitive to do even the most basic tasks. But now that Nanami is taking you out of your sole misery and fucks you orally, you can finally relax and experience the euphoria you’ve been yearning for.

…At least until his phone rings again, causing the man to lift his head from your legs to your dismay: another business call, this time with the boss, Yaga. Nanami’s mocha eyes dart to you, and he coos to your disheveled self. “Sorry, love, gotta take this.”

“B-But…!”

“In the meantime,” he hands you the vibrator. “Give me a show.”

You take the toy silently, begrudging, trailing it back down to your cunt for you to thrust in and out of your venture. And the moans you let out are divine to Nanami as he presses the green call button.

“Yes?… Yeah, I’m alone.”

₊˚⊹♡ Gojō Satoru & Suguru Getō ⋮ threesome - oral (m! receiving) - clitoral play (grinding + pinching) - missionary position - protected sex - pet names (baby, cutie, pumpkin, sweetie).

KNOCK–KNOCK!!

“Yo, Suguru, are you in her—WOAH!?”

“Uuugh, fuck, are you serious, Satoru? Can’t wait for me to tell you to come in?”

Oh, this had to be the worst day of your occupation life!

You weren’t supposed to be here; you were meant to be with the other maids around the fortress who needed a helping hand setting up guest rooms or preparing the feast for tonight. Today was big: your master’s best friend was coming over for the weekend. All hands on deck are necessary to make sure his attendance is welcome. Nevertheless, you end up trailing out of your tracks because your master, Getō Suguru, pulls you into his room without anyone noticing a thing.

The action left you bewildered, especially when he greets you by smashing his lips onto yours, exchanging murmurs and soft moans with each other while his hands grope and fondle whatever part of your body can reach. Of course, you try to retaliate, telling the tall, young man that he’s a terrible host for his friend and should be out there with him! But that doesn’t sway him at all, throwing you onto his bed and unbuckling his pants with a bitten lip. “He can wait,” he says in a sing-song tune, childishly pushing off his responsibilities. “But I can’t,” he crawls on top and kisses you passionately. “Wanna play with you a little more, ‘kay, sweetie?”

And who are you to refuse his request? You submit to him and let him spread your legs…What you did NOT expect, however, as you both seemed to forget to lock the door! And it’s worse, Geto’s best friend, Gojō Satoru, is the one to catch you both in the act. Are you fucking serious?!?

Gojo closes – and locks – the door for your sake. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t knock, right?” The taller man waltzes in as if he owns the place. You, under Geto’s bow, who is shirtless and whose cock is plugged inside your chasm, hide your face away from this mortifying experience. “Plus, what kind of host are you? Leaving me out there to wait for you for fifteen minutes.” Geto rolls his eyes as the white-haired man sits on the bed. “Now, who is this taking up all your attention?”

You don’t say a single word, concealing your shamed face behind your palms. God, just kill me!

“This is the new maid I told you about,” Geto admits with a grin, kissing your ankle. “They’re a pretty little thing…Hey, baby, don’t hide when introducing yourself.” The raven-haired man removes your hands from your face to your sorrow; pairs of blue and violet eyes survey you intimately.

Gojo coos, coming to your side. “Oh~, this is the new cute maid?” You don’t know if you like the way his gaze travels around your body, nor the way your vagina squeezes onto Geto’s girth as his friend rubs circles on your tummy. “What happened to your shirt?”

“This cutie went ahead and squirted on me,” you gawk at his blunt explanation; was there no other way to phrase that, you dummy!? “That’s why they’re a lil’ sensitive right now.”

His best friend piqued Gojo’s interest, “Is that so?” The hand on your stomach slithers down to your clitoris to grind on, and you jolt haphazardly. “Awww, you like that, princess?” Now it’s his turn to smirk mischievously. “Must be nice being used by your master, huh? And with an audience, too!”

“N-Noo!” You gasp from a pinch to your clit. “Master Gojo, please look awa—Aiiissh!!”

“Ehhh, and miss this view?” Gojo feverishly swipes on your clitoris while pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ve been dying to meet this new, cute maid that Suguru can’t keep his eyes off. Now, I see what’s got him all hot and steamy.”

“Ahhhh, shiiit, keep getting tight…!” Geto curses under his breath, snapping his hips to your tight slit. “Hmmm, I think they’re starting to like ya, too, Satoru.”

“Really? Aren’t you just adorable,” the snow-headed man claims your lips with his, shoving his tongue inside your mouth to drown. You whimper as he sucks on yours, toes curling as he cups and gropes your chest. “Fuck, so sweet…Hold on, lemme have a turn.”

Geto clicks his teeth. “You can wait, fucker. I’m trying to finish here.”

Gojo rolls his eyes yet straightens up to unzip his pants. “Fine then…Hey, pumpkin, can you suck me off a bit?” The taller man whips out his erection from the slide of his pants and boxers, and your mind nearly goes to a halt at the sight of the curved limb.

“Go on, don’t wanna leave our guest waiting, right?” Geto does nothing to make this situation any easier to go through, rutting his pelvis into you frantically to chase his orgasm. You are left with no choice and open your mouth with a loose jaw, and Gojo takes the initiative to insert his cock inside. “That’s my baby…Hnngh!”

Gojo fucks your face with a slow start before his flow follows with his dark-headed companion. The curve of his dick fills your mouth so much that your head gets fuzzier as he keeps thrusting into your lips. “Shiit, that feels good,” he murmurs above you, cradling your head gently as he stuffs your lips with himself.

The commotion on both ends of your body only furthers the headache forming and the heat from below flourishing all around. Still sensitive to your own high, your brain turns into mush, and you’re numb to the stimulation between your legs. Jesus, this was too much to keep up with; closing your eyes to help yourself succumb to the use of your body and allow the pleasure to course through.

Geto watches from above and loves every second of it. The picture of you taking in his best friend’s cock while he fucks you good and deep is so good. Your mewls are muffled because of the length between your lips, yet music to the men’s ears. “Fuuuck, I’m going to…Oh shiiiit…!” Your master can’t stop hammering his erect limb into you, flexing his abs erratically until he nearly gives way to his knees and busts into the rubber shielding his load. His frame shivers with every jerk, making sure every bit of his come is excruciated out of him.

Gojo takes it all in with a whistle. “Ahhhh, damn, that looks hot as hell.”

“Mmmph, you…have no idea,” The other man sniggers with a shaken head, sluggishly taking out his dick with the condom filled with his semen. After he takes it out and wraps the rubber, he throws a wrapped one to the snow-headed other. “Alright, time to switch.” The tall men share a look and switch places, Gojo now taking his place between your legs while Geto taps your lips with his girth until you suck him in.

If only the bed could swallow you away from this bizarre scenario!

₊˚⊹♡ Ryōmen Sukuna ⋮ impact play (spanking) - [anal] fingering (f! receiving) - humiliation + degradation - Master kink - pet names (little dove) - mention of drool and tears.

“—Khhhh!! Ahhhh!! Owwww!!”

“Yeah, that’s right, cry for me, bitch.”

It’s not unusual for a handmaiden to be reprimanded for bad behavior or not adequately doing their tasks. However, if you’re serving the King of Curses, Lord Ryōmen Sukuna, those corrections are likely to happen more often than not.

Imagine it: you’re bent over Sukuna’s massive legs, thighs so big and strong that you’re purchased with security if the firm hand gripping your wrists together wasn’t enough. Your skirt propped up, and your panties slid down to your knees, exposing your bare ass to the cool air of his chambers. However, that is swiftly transitioned to piercing heat and pain in seconds.

A hand comes striking down to your asscheeks — that had to be the twelfth time within these exact two minutes. The skin of your butt is nothing but hot; the man can feel it as he hovers the hand above them, making you shiver. Unpleasant tingling sensations course through the flesh, worsening with every new hit. And your throat is getting dry by how much you’ve been screaming. There is no way the other workers of this fortress haven’t heard your cries by now; you’re sure to be scrutinized by Uraume later today. Unbelievable…

Another smack to your butt pulls a yelp from your system, your body instinctively jolting from another rush of pain! Damn the huge lower left hand holding your wrists together. “—Hahh! Lord Sukuna, please! I beg you, please forgi—Iiiee!!”

“That’s all you’re good at, huh?” A dark chortle adds weight to your ongoing suffering. “Just begging and crying after I caught you being the little slut you are.”

Fuck, this couldn’t get any more humiliating enough. “My Lord, I’m so sorry for—Ahhckk!!” Another slap to your ass; this time, his nails dig into your flesh to extend your pathetic howl. And the thick digits of his lower right hand vigorously wiggle inside your vagina. You know your ass is going to be sore after this…

“Sorry for what: being a dumb clutz for knocking into things and breaking glasses left and right?” He bends to your ear to speak, and your inner walls squeeze his fingers helplessly. “Or going inside my room and touching things without permission?”

“I apologize for overstepping—Mmmph?!”

“Goddamn, so fucking loud, you fucking pig.” Sukuna stuffs two fingers of his upper right hand into your mouth, lips involuntarily sucking onto them. Now, he lets your wrists go to watch them grab hold of his pants; the sight of your nails scratching onto them like reins strokes his ego. Nothing makes him gloried than seeing a little thing like you break bit by bit in his presence.

Your whines are muffled; the only time an attempt to keep you quiet was made. Cruel of him to do as his fingers relentlessly rub your texture, and he inserts his thumb into your asshole to enfold the same pleasurable torture.

“Tell me, little dove, what excited you more: silently masturbating while sniffing my clothes on my bed,” tears form in your eyes from a harsh smack to your ass. “Or me catching you in the act? Because you didn’t seem to stop once you saw me.”

Please don’t talk about it! You can only complain within your thoughts, forced to listen to your misbehavior as a maid. And it’s torturous enough that your holes are clamping onto his fingers like crazy, eyes rolling to your skull from the scrape of your upper wall and the push and pull in your rear end.

“Go ahead, you dirty whore.” The emphasis on the last word makes you twitch. “Admit how big of a slut you are in front of your Master, how you’re good for nothing than to act like a bitch in heat.” A soft ‘pop’ leaves your lips as he removes his fingers. “Go on.”

“—Nndaahh! I’m so sorry, Master, I’m so—Ohhhh!!” Sukuna’s fingers in your chasm curl, his fingertips scratching your insides mercilessly.

“I didn’t say ask for forgiveness,” He scoffs.

It’s no use; the more you try to delay this, the dizzier you get. “… You’re right, master! I-I’m nothing but a sorry excuse of a maid who’s only—fuuuck!–only g-good at breaking things and not following orders!”

“And?” You can only imagine the most patronizing look he’s giving you.

“A-And…acting like a total slut that likes to be—Mmmm!!” Sukuna rubs your hot, stinging butt, removing his thumb to switch with another pair of fingers to tease your anus. “L-Likes to be used like a fucktoy by Master…!”

He purrs at your confession. “There you go; wasn’t that hard being honest, right?” The fingers in your ass and cunt go erratic, your shrieks returning to bounce off the walls. “Exactly that, a worthless maid who thinks about nothing but their whorish self. Not even bothering hiding how much you’re enjoying this…”

You wish he were lying; however, he was right on the mark. You’re nothing but a good-for-nothing maid who’s getting off to being reprimanded by your own master. And the fact that you cry out to your lower half spasms to his touches and concede to your orgasm doesn’t help your case. “Taahhh, ahaahhnn, ohhhshit, so good…!”

Your entire frame quivers on him, crying out loud as your crescendo shakes your whole being to your very core. Drool has long escaped your mouth, tears streaming down your face, and your hands gripping his pants. Jesus Christ, this felt way too good!

Sukuna clicks his teeth and pushes you off of his legs, your limp and dazed figure falling to the floor with no grace. “Tch, unbelievable. You really got a good high out of that, huh?” He looks to his lower left hand, which is smothered with your fluids.

“Haaahh, forgive me, Master…” Your throat is too weak and dry to utter sentences. But that doesn’t matter since Sukuna drags you back up to your knees by the scruff of your neck. Your eyes watch him unzip his pants and widen at the picture of his cocks springing out of his underwear.

“Quit speaking nonsense and do your job, you whore of a maid.”

₊˚⊹♡ Fushiguro Tōji ⋮ oral (m! receiving) - face+ throat-fucking - sir kink - musturbation (f! receiving) - facials - pet names (baby, doll[face], sweetheart).

“Hnnmm…ahhh shit, yeah, just like that.”

You chew your lips and swallow thickly. “Are you sure about this, Master?”

Forest green eyes peer down and pair with a crude grin. “Never said otherwise, baby. So keep goin’, yeah?”

“Yes…sir.” Your cheeks heat up, and your hands continue to stroke the erect shaft in your grasp.

A nice shower before heading for bed always hits the spot; nothing more rewarding than that after a day of going through hell and back. However, in Toji’s case, he loves them a lot more when you’re taking care of him and scrubbing his body clean of the stress and grit that taxed him during the day.

And that means scrubbing all of him.

You were on your knees on the tiled bathroom floor while Toji sat on the rim of the bathtub, situated between his damp legs as his body was wet from the hot steaming water of the tub. Supposedly, you were meant to take care of his laundry while he was showering and bathing. However, at the moment, your hands were grasping onto his erection, coated in soap, smearing it onto every dent and crevice of his groin.

You can’t tell what’s making your head fuzzy: the warmth within this bathroom or watching the tip of Toji’s dick being sheathed in and out of his foreskin as you jerk him off. What you do know is that the latter was too irresistible to marvel at, causing your stomach to do knots and the heat between your legs to twitch your insides. How embarrassing to be aroused by such a situation in front of your superior of all people!

And the worst part is the tiny glimpses you catch of your master panting and moaning because of your touch. His deep voice produces the most salacious noises as your fingers scrape around the glans to clean — you’ve been chewing on your lip nonstop because of them. The way you knead his balls with care has him hiss, and you nearly jump when he places his wet hand on your clothed shoulder.

Toji chuckles lowly, “Fuck, doin’ so good, doll.” He groans when you pour water onto his cock, cleansing the limb entirely with another dose. “Mmmm, feels good.”

His praise comments make you bite your cheek. “I’m glad you’re pleased, Master. You’re all clean.”

An onyx brow is lifted. “I don’t think I’m all clean yet.” Your look of confusion humors him, even after he grabs ahold of his length to tap the tip with your mouth, and your eyes widen. “Still haven’t felt that mouth of y’rs, hon.” Your mouth opens to reject, but another tap to your lips halts you from saying any words. “C’mon, sweetheart; no one’s ‘round to stop you. Plus, you know how I like bein’ sucked off.”

He doesn’t leave you any room to argue your way out of this, not to mention how close his dick is to your face. “…Yes, sir.” No words are said after that as you begin to lend him your service, coating your tongue with spit to drizzle from the top to watch it slide down his shaft. All for you to swirl around the cockhead before loosening your jaw and intaking his tip with a hum. And the older man coos with a head back, “Good girl…Mmmm…”

You bob your head steadily, taking him inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. While one hand massages his balls and the other strokes him, you suck and dirty his limb with your saliva. Ironic, isn’t it: doing as your master commands in making his cock “clean” by giving him a fellatio in the bathroom? The way you mewl as the underside of his cock brushes the flat of your tongue is crazy, and you can feel the squeeze of your vulva worsening as time goes on.

Your hips sway on their own the more you suck on Toji, getting more light-headed from sensing his cock pulsate inside your oral cavity. And he chortles again, “Heh, enjoyin’ y’rself?” You moan as he bends down to grope your ass above your skirt, certainly aware that you’re getting more aroused. “What’re ya gonna do ‘bout that?”

The tip of his cock is released with the ‘pop’ of your lips, and your eyes lidded with bashful want. “Sir, may I please…finger myself?” Holy hell, your heart was pounding like crazy, even with how his spring-green eyes pierced through you.

You gasp lightly when he grabs your hand and licks your fore and middle fingers, covering them thoroughly with his slobber. “Go on,” he sucks on your digits before spitting them out. “Go wild, baby.” You nod before slurping his cock back into your mouth while your damp fingers venture down to your skirt and push your panties aside to insert them inside your vagina. Your whimpers are too cute to ignore, and Toji finally stands up to change the pace.

While your fingers curl and scratch the heat of your inner walls, Toji grabs for your head to fuck your face, the cadence growing more than mediocre. This time around, he’s busying your throat and face so much with the push of his pelvis that you can’t think straight. The sound of his balls hitting your chin is all you can hear, and your spit pooling around the ring of your lips is too raunchy to comprehend.

“Haaahhh, shit,” he curses from above, snapping his hips to go deeper into your mouth. “Shit, use that tongue, use—Mmmph…! Fuuuck, yeah, just like that.”

The praises fuel the rhythm of your fingers to go faster, rubbing on your texture as much as you can and your clit grinding against the bottom of your palm. Yet, it seems you can’t fully get off, though. Because of how full your mouth was with how fast Toji was slamming his cock inside your mouth, all you can think about is his length buried inside your vagina and reaching deep to kiss your cervix. Just thinking about it causes you to grip your fingers tighter.

“Ahhh, damnit, right there…!” The raven-headed man grits his teeth with the flex of his abdomen tightening, and his ruts increase. And before you know it, Toji rips his member out of your lips and fists his shaft until his load is expelled. White substance showers onto your face, landing on your nose and cheek, and bits drip down to stain your shirt. You gasp aloud before taking his tip to suck on again, stroking his pulsing dick until his hips stop bucking.

“Guess you’re all dirty, too, huh.” He sniggers and massages your cheeks. “But we got all night to clean ya up real good. Right, dollface?”

A soft noise leaves as you withdraw from his cock and place chaste kisses. “Yes, sirrr…”

“Good girl. Now, take off that skirt of y’rs.”

5K notes · View notes

satorena · 4 months ago

Text

#BUILD-A-BLOB !?

bad ☆ summary. good news? your nephew’s birthday gift to you definitely works. bad news? turns out to be a cranky four armed creature that nags at everything you do. good / bad news? he’s smokin’ hot and you wanna fuck him nasty. seriously, what the fuck.

cw. explicit content. foul language. monsterfūcking. blobkuna to true form!kuna. double penetration. anāl. deepthroăting. cunningūlus. pūssy slapping. bāckshots. belly bulge. creāmpie. degradation (he calls you mean things) overstimulation. dumbification. mentions of drug usage. sukuna speaks like he has a stick up his ass. pōrn without plot. 4.4k words.

rena’s ☆ note. guys i’m giggling so hard at the gif HELP

“the fuck are ya starin’ at?”

technically speaking, you think you’re looking at a seven foot monster with more arms than you can count, more mouths than necessary and much more tattoos than you can see. just a minute ago, this entity had been an ugly formless blob with a singular eye and bucked teeth that sat against your window, forming incoherent sentences as “me want water”, “me need light” or your personal favorite, “me want you to fuck off”.

you’d left to check on your plants momentarily, coming back to your living space to find that the blob had transformed into a . . . human? something along the word that you use very loosely.

he stands tall and proud and very naked— though unimpressed, toned arms crossed and ass cheeks facing the world outside. you can see the reflection of his clenched buns through the glass and— is that a fucking tramp stamp?

“i’m thinking. . . what used to be my birthday gift,” you answer slowly, brows pinched in confusion as your head tilts. it’s below you, sure, but you can’t help staring at what’s below him. surely it’s the weed catching up to you because there’s no way that, “is that— holy shit, is that two dicks?”

“perverted woman,” the man (question mark) clicks his tongue, as if he isn’t the one dressed in his birthday suit, asshole bearing for pedestrians outside to file public indecency on you. “your reaction suggests you’ve never witnessed the presence of two at once.”

“well. . . no,” he stares at you as if you’re the one with four arms and abnormally long legs. you crouch down, index finger scratching at the corner of your mouth to analyze it some more. you were curious, nothing more! you feel the multitude of his eyes trailing your movements, daring you to proceed forward. he truly doesn’t know you.

they stack atop one another, though both sizes are nothing to scoff at. packing in both girth and length, they stand tall and semi hardened, with curves to the right. he’s got prominent veins running all over his skin, mushroom tips an angry shade of reddish brown. frowning, you peek your head lower to confirm following suspicions,

his tone is rough along the edges, “i do not possess four testicles.” damn it.

“boo, you suck,” you sigh, indeed disappointed by the confirmation. you’d think a monster with monstrous limbs and monstrous cocks would own monstrous balls. “whatever.” you stand back up on your feet, though you’re met with hard ripples of glistening abs.

“so like,” you pause, now shamelessly staring at his torso with shimmering eyes. he’s ripped with an eight pack, waist snatched like a motherfucker and skin inked like a colouring book. “what do i call you?”

you think you hear him chuckle, “how foolish,” a mouth then appears on his stomach, to which you jerk back from how sudden it was. your brows jump to your hairline, eyes widening as teeth bare at you menacingly. “it is common decency to introduce yourself firsthand. have you no manners in the presence of a king?”

“a who?” you squawk, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. this four-armed freak was a king? from where exactly? you shake your head, as if to turn off your inner monologues and quiet the voices down, “right, right. erm, you can call me y/n.”

he repeats your name slowly, followed by a deep chuckle. the rumble of your name against his voice sends a weird tingle down your gut, as you crane your neck upwards to finally look him in the face.

you gulp. damn it, he was attractive all around. though morally questionable, you found his features dashing. sure, there was the weird thing stuck in the side of his face that resembled a mixture of flesh and wood. and yeah, he had an additional set of slender eyes. however, his facial harmony somehow blended perfectly. his facial structure was sharp all around, from his nose bridge to his jawline, and his ears with pierced.

what more could anybody want?

blame it on the sativa or the fact you hadn’t been fucked in a while, but it was your birthday and you want your birthday gift, damn it. there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that— the pulsing at your core had your thighs rubbing together subtly (you hoped) (he smirked when he noticed your legs shifting) (fuck, he already knows).

“you will address me as sukuna, mortal.” he says instead, one of his arms mounting to grasp at a piece of your hair. he’s beefy, big biceps surrounding your peripherals as they flex hard. he twirls your hair between his fingers, and shit, you’re gonna need his nail technician’s reference.

“you talk like you have a stick up your ass,” your voice sounds distant, as distracted as you are, perverted eyes trailing to follow the bulging of his muscles. even his forearm is sexy, a large vein running course beneath his skin amongst others. “you ask for my name and choose to call me mortal? corny.”

“i am not a product of this time,” he riddles, tugging at the strand in his hold. the searing pain of his tug at your hair has you moaning— in agony or pleasure, who truly knows— and before you know it, he spreads the rest of his large fingers at your scalp, “you say i speak as if i have a stick up my ass,” shivers run down your spine when his fingernails scratch at your head, “but really it is you who wants my stick up yours, huh?”

you blink. how the fuck did he know? “th-that’s not even remotely true—”

“do not lie,” another arm lifts to cup at your face. his index rests beneath your jaw as his thumb sits at your chin. you feel the sharp edges of his nails grazing at your skin, “your scent is rather . . . pungent.”

you feel heat quickly spread to your cheeks and your panties effortlessly dampening. he smirks, dipping his thumb into your parted mouth, before scrunching his nose into a whiff, “ah, there it is again.”

the pad of his thumb swipes against your bottom lip, skin collecting your saliva before rubbing the fluid all over your mouth. you feel the tip of his nail poking into the flesh, and your brows furrow, “and you called me the perverted one.”

“that remains true.” another— jeez, how many more— arm snakes at your waist. it creeps below your shirt and sits at your bare skin, a touch so warm it sends jolts of electricity across your limbs. his hand rests at your lower belly, and when a wet tongue drags itself across your sensitive skin, you clamp your lips down around his thumb in a whimper, “you’re an obedient one. i think i’ll have fun with you.”

your brows furrow as your cunt clenches. his smirk deepens and, fuck you really need to stop doing that, “have fun with me?”

“it has been a while since i’ve fooled around with a mortal,” he hums, slipping his thumb out of your mouth. there’s a thin string of saliva connecting from your lips to his fingertip, and you hate how you already crave the salty flesh back in your mouth. “let us see just how weak the human body truly is.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself on your knees in your living room, carpet digging into your kneecaps as your fingers interlock at your back. your jaw aches, to the point of snapping as two fat cocks shove themselves down your throat. you breathe through your nostrils as your mouth is clearly occupied, fat tears dotting at your lash line and dribbles of saliva slipping past your lips and down his cocks.

two of his hands grasp at your head as leverage, hips thrusting up and down your throat. the gags that escape you are pornographic, throat muscles clenching around the intrusion. fuck, the strong musk of his pubic hairs cloud your senses and overwhelm your mind— driving you dizzy in arousal.

“loosen up yer throat,” sukuna commands, though you find it contradictory as another one of his abnormally large hands wrap themselves around your throat. he presses just lightly, as if to trace over the bulge of his dicks inside of you, but the lack of oxygen has your body liquifying in heat. you think you see stars, and your pupils start to dilate. “c’mon mortal, don’t pass out on me now— we’ve only just begun.”

easy for you to say, you roll your eyes, though complying to his orders. shit, it’s really hard to breathe but you can’t deny you love how objectifying all of this feels. bounding your own hands back, kneeled in front of this king, hair grouped up in one hand to tug onto. he was using you as if you were merely a toy for his own pleasure, mushroom tips repeatedly abusing the walls of your throat.

your cunt clenches around air, gushing more of your essence against the flimsy material of your panties. his stomach clenches tightly, as do his thigh muscles, the embodiment of man in front of you, destroying your throat.

fuck, your clit throbs.

the king coos at you degradingly, ruby eyes narrowing down at your figure, “awnn, ‘s it too much for ya?” you feel a wad of spit land on your cheek, and despite the nastiness of the actions, the filthiness has you clenching your thighs together. of course he finds pleasure in your desperation, leaning back further into the couch to cock his head at you, “humpin’ on yerself like a desperate slut beggin’ for a proper dicking. how pathetic,”

you nod your head eagerly, as your mouth fails to express just how badly you do want him. he’s so deep down your throat, you swear you feel him near your heart. the sting at your scalp plus the lack of oxygen and your need to have him stuff you full drives you wild with want— so desperate that tears leak through your eyes, stream down your cheeks and land right at his dicks.

“mhm, i’ll take care of ya,” sukuna cuts himself off with a deep groan, sliding further down into his seat. he shifts his hips deeper down your throat, and you gag terribly loud, “you hungry, mortal? open wide and, fuck, take what i give ya—” another grunt leaves him, and as does thick ropes of cum do.

your eyes widen as you’re greeted with hot cum shooting down your throat. it’s creamy, thick and so, so much of it that you’re certain swallowing it all would be impossible. your cheeks hollow as you attempt in your best efforts to gulp him down, the flavour of salty semen bursting at your taste buds.

“greedy bitch,” he chuckles through a moan, grinding his hips in rotations as he rides down the high. sweat dribbles down the crevices of his abs, stomach clenching hard as he empties his balls in you. “thaaat’s it—shit, not fuckin’ bad.”

when he finally pulls out, you gasp loudly for the sweet air you had been deprived of. your body trembles as you release your own hold, hands flying up to grasp at his thick thighs. your fingernails scrape at his skin as your chest heaves.

“y’re so,” you pant, and you can barely register how broken your voice sounds. did his cocks destroy your vocal chords already? “y’re so fuckin’. . . mean.”

“too much?” sukuna cackles, though he’s nowhere near sounding apologetic. his fingers cupping your face swipe at fallen tears on your cheeks. at the feel of a wet tongue licking at your damp skin, you pout in retaliation, brows furrowed and swollen lips puckered, “better get it together, ‘m gonna stretch that pussy out.”

damn it— he had such a way with words. you subconsciously lean your cheek further into his touch, and the grin he gives you is barbaric, “face down, ass up.”

so yeah, you find yourself with your cheek pressed into the softness of your couch, hips pulled up and thighs spread as sukuna feasts. the panties you once wore stuffed in your mouth, they muffle the wanton sounds that rip out your abused throat.

you feel his tongue lap at your folds hungrily, fingers spreading your pussy lips apart for better access. he tongue fucks into your hole, lips sucking and nibbling at your clit with precision. wet heat intrudes your insides and have your stomach tightening.

fingernails scratching at the couch, your back arches as you grasp at anything for support. having multiple mouths should be illegal— you feel tongues trailing all over your thighs and the dip in your back, you feel them rimming at your backside. you even think you feel one diving into your ass.

“mmph, m‘kunaaa!” you wail, toes curling as you push your hips further into his face. you’d never been eaten out as good as he is, nose deep in your cunt as your insides get devoured. you’re so overwhelmed— your puffy clit secreting essence as a slick tongue flicks at the bean.

a hand slaps once, twice at your ass as another pair of hands grip at your plush flesh. “shut th’fuck up,” he speaks into you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers up your spine. you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, foot shaking uncontrollably. when the hands cupping at your breast begin tugging at your nipples, tongues flicking the stiff bud, you feel your dam erupt.

“mmfuuuuckkk!” you whine, as your cunt gushes in his face. he never lets up, tongue repeatedly scissoring your hole as he swallows your juices. you’re squirting so much it drips all over his face and down the suede couch, down your thighs. you think your soul had been taken by this damn near succubus with how long it takes for you to come back to your senses.

he pulls back with a nasty smack from his lips to your lower ones, using the back of his hand to wipe at any excess fluids, “sweet cunt,” he praises you, and you weakly whine, body drained of energy as you fall limp into the soaked couch. you’re out of it, bottom lip quivering as your limbs tingle in bliss— you feel your lids growing heavier by the second but sukuna is having none of that, “aht aht— where the fuck d’you think yer goin’?”

you feel pair of hands pull your hips back up and another grab a handful of your hair in a steady hold. you’re immediately pulled up on all fours, and you whimper at the firm blows he lands yet again on your ass.

he lifts himself on his knees, and you feel his hardnesses rub against the curve of your booty, “told you i was gon’ stretch this pussy out— ‘m a man of my fuckin’ word.” and shit, you think you push your ass back against his leaking cocks, dragging the beady fluids all over the softness of your skin.

your back arches sinfully as you spit out the soaked panties from your mouth and onto the floor. the slide of his dicks in between your thighs has your stomach heating in lust, the drags of his tips at your clit reenergizing you faster than you’d like to admit.

“mmhm, that’s it,” he grumbles into the supple skin at your neck, grazing his fangs teasingly at the flesh and his warm breath further dampening your skin. the large hands that cupped at your waist now lean you forwards against the arm of the couch, and you suddenly feel a lot of blood rushing to your brain. your arms feel weak as they support your body weight, your back arches like a cat and legs stretched out—

holy shit, are you hanging off the fucking couch?

“give up and you fall face first onto the damn floor,” the king cackles, as if the funniest joke in the world, as if your cunt wasn’t gushing your essence— begging to be filled and tore apart. your eyes widen comically as your knees buckle just slightly at the feel of his cock rubbing at your clenching hole, “try and keep up, mortal.”

sukuna grips at the base of his first dick, aligning it to your entrance. you hear him hiss as he collects your cum around the circumference of his tip, fingernails digging deep into your waist. fuck, that hurts so good. any further deeper and you’re certain he’d draw blood.

now, you were definitely no athlete the way he took his sweet time teasing you both. you had barely finished coming down from your previous orgasm, and with the excessive blood seeping into your brain, you felt yourself dizzying quicker than you’d anticipated, “kunaaa— hurry, i can’t hold out any longer— ngh fuuuck!”

your nails claw at the wooden floor when you felt him finally bottom out. holy fuck— how many inches was he packing? you could physically feel your pussy stretching out to his size, to accommodate to the intrusion of his ruthless cock into your tight hole. the sudden penetration hurt in a way that had your clit tingling, walls clamping down as if to seize him from moving any further.

“mortal,” he groans deeply, and there goes another spank at your ass. naturally, you clamp down harder. “quit— fuck, squeezin’ so tight. how the fuck am i s’posed to dick you down when you’re grippin’ me like a damn vice?”

“‘s too much!” you argue, though your hips roll around as if to adjust to his unreasonable size. you feel more tears flooding your eyes, and your core aches for a mean pounding. “just. . . gimme a minute,”

“a minute?” he repeats, though his tone is far from understanding. there’s a hint of mischievous dripping from words, and shit, he’s already pulling out. your cunt negates your words, desperately latching onto his length as if to reprimand him from exiting any more. he notices your contradiction, “doesn’t seem like yer pussy needs a minute. gotta tell you baby, i don’t like liars.”

your toes curl as he fucks himself back into you. the moan that rips from your throat is far beneath your ability to stop, and you squeeze your eyes shut. he repeatedly pounds into your cunt, the more the strokes, the deeper it goes. he may as well create an indent in your guts with how intense his thrusts are.

“hnng, ohmyfuckkk,” your back only arches further, the delicious burn of his dick stretching your velvet walls driving your mind delirious. his pace is insane— with every meet of his hips at your ass, you jerk forward, tits jiggling in the process. you feel hands spreading your cheeks for better access, alongside a wad of spit land at your cunt, sealed by a nice slap on your reddened ass.

he’s crushing your cervix. it hurts but you don’t want him to stop. it’s all too overwhelming— the repetitive slaps of his heavy balls at your sensitive clit, the way he digs himself deep into you, rolling his hips to reach all sensitive spots inside your spongy self. god, you can hear how sinful the point of contact between both your bodies as it echoes in the living room.

“creamy fuckin’ pussy,” sukuna grunts, tone so low you assumed he was more so speaking to himself. your wetness had submerged into a thick essence of cream around the base of his shaft, further easing the ruthless slides of his dick into your cunt. you don’t ignore how his second cock twitches against your asshole. “you tryna snatch my damn soul? tsk, greedy slut.”

your arms are giving out. your thighs burn and furthermore— your cunt aches, badly. he’s giving and giving, pounding so mercilessly into your pussy it was as if he were mad at you. you’d never been fucked so profoundly, his tip bullying into you so meanly with the additional mix of blood rushing into your head— fuck, you need a break.

still, sukuna seems two steps ahead of you, slithering an extra arm to your nape and gripping at your hair. two other hands drag your hips backwards in place, simultaneously pushing himself back where he’d once been— snug in the comfort of your warm pussy. “nah, nah, don’t you fuckin’ run away. fuckin’ take what i give you—” he holds you by the hips and lifts you up and down on his cock. you feel your feet leave the couch as a majority of the weight you held onto your palms were lifted. “this is what you wanted. mhm, be a good bitch and own up to your consequences.”

you’re babbling, the idea of you being a toy again for his use, the new angle of his cock protruding inside has drool dribbling down your chin and your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. “too d-deep, feel you in my— nghhh, h-heart.”

“‘s that so?” he chuckles heartily, and your mind is too numb to register the weird sting that grows at your forbidden zone. you’re too fucked out to notice what he has in store for you, “let’s double that shit. pierce right through yer mortal heart and mark it my territory.”

a sharp wail erupts, as you’re now filled to the brim with two girthy cocks. it’s an uncomfortable stretch in an area you were far from accustomed to, but in your current position, you’re nowhere near able to stop him. you’re not too sure you want him too— his cocks rubbing against the thin linen that separates your cunt to your ass.

holy fuck, your brain is turning into mush. he’s fucking into you like a madman— both your holes abused by the same pair of hips diving deep into your insides. your limbs feel numb, despite now being lifted into the air. he’s fucking manhandling you, hands holding all regions of your body still as he grinds his cocks in. what an out of body experience— head and tits jerking to the rhythm his hips set.

your guts are on fire, and you recognize this feeling all too well. the same one that has your eyes crossing to the centre of your face and your wet tongue lolling out of your mouth. your breaths are cut short, your tummy bulging into the shape of the king that’s taken control of your entire being.

holy shit.

“atta girl,” sukuna whistles when you spray him unexpectedly. your muscles clench as does your cunt and ass around his dicks, body trembling from an outwardly orgasm racking over you. sukuna never lets up, your crying only spurring him on more, “oh yeahhh, now that’s an ugly face. hah! turns me on.”

you’re snivelling, and you think you feel snot dripping down your nose. through the window where this creature was once an ugly form on nothingness, you watch your reflection. my goodness— how is he not stopping? you feel like you’re gonna die, your soul getting snatched from various regions, the repetitive strokes of his dicks at your most sensitive areas. holy shit, you’re gonna die.

“c’mon, entertain me some more,” he accentuates each word with powerful thrusts, and in return, receives splutters of more juices. you’re leaking like a damn faucet, dripping down your thighs and soaking your soiled couch. your fluids leak down to meet his pair of balls, now lubricated as they slap more intensely at your abused clit.

you’re left wordless. seriously, arms as limp as noodles as they hang to your side, head lolled forward. your mind feels so empty yet so full, the familiar pain of overstimulation now taking over your body. your muscles spasm violently around him, uncontrollably as sukuna takes and takes more of you.

“thankyouthankyouthankyou,” although not entirely sure what you’re thanking him for, the words slip past your kiss-bitten lips and into the thick air. you feel him press his own mouth at the column of your sweaty back, and your chants continue, “thankyouthankyou—”

“what an obedient lil thing,” sukuna coos, and you feel an extra tongue flick greedily at your tight bundle of nerve. your body begins to seize, stomach caving deeply in as you succumb to the pressure, “who’s my good bitch, hmm?”

“m-me.” you answer so weakly that it unsatisfies him. the tongue torturing your clit now bites down onto the bud and you cry out loudly. shit, you’re squirting again.

“i said,” he repeats himself with more finality. the wet squelching sounds of his cocks bullying at your holes overpower his own voice, and you can’t stop the shaking of your body. and with every pause, his cocks slam further and further in, “who’s. my. good. bitch.”

“meeee!” you hic, drool be damned as it seeps past parted mouth and down your throat. god, this was so above you and yet, here you were, getting fucked like your life depended on it. it hurts, hurts so good that you simultaneously want to push and pull from his embrace.

he holds you up higher, and your legs wrap around his waist with your back tucked into his chest. his hands slide from your waist to your inner thighs, now holding you tight against him. your head falls back onto his shoulder and in the midst of your daze, you feel a fingernail trailing down the slope of your neck.

“yeahhh,” he chuckles darkly, eyes narrowing onto your fucked out figure. his eyes then flick to the imprint of his cock penetrating at your belly, followed by the inconsistent tremors of your body. “‘s what i fuckin’ thought.”

somewhere along the line, you’re left boneless in his strong hold as he fucks and fucks and fucks. he’s everywhere at once, a presence so dominating that you’re left as if you have no other choice but to surrender. but that’s exactly all there is to it, no? a king using his pussy to his satisfaction.

“‘m gonna breed this slutty body full of my cum, make you mine. cause that’s all yer good for— ain’t that right baby?” you nod, because of course you do. he’s pounding some more and more, and the warmth that fills your belly to the brim is anything but surprising. he’s grunting in your ear, a string of profanities flowing into the air. he’s cumming so much from both cocks that it leaks past your bruised holes.

his hips roll some more, and both your cunt and ass clench around him greedily, milking him out for every drop he’s worth. he hums against your damp face, dragging the tip of nose through a multitude of fluids. you have a weak smile gracing your lips, and his arms tighten possessively around your tinier frame, “happy birthday indeed, mortal.”

oh my god, you’re gonna die.

. . .what the fuck did i just write.

#rena☆star.#fraudkuna core!#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n

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gurugirl · 1 month ago

Text

DILF | older!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/n meets an older man at a bar and she's not taking no for an answer. Harry likes her persistence.

A/N: This was requested + this! Also, please think before you judge Y/n. She is very bold and confident in this. Maybe even a little pushy but Harry likes it (even if at first he doesn't give that impression). Also he's single so this isn't cheatrry!

Word Count: 6,580

Warning: age gap, smut, alcohol consumption (light)

. .

"That one. Total dilf. He looks grumpy. Bet you can't crack him."

Y/n laughed at her friend and looked down at her red-painted nails before narrowing her gaze on the attractive older man who was seated at the corner of the bar alone. He was nursing a whisky and he did look rather sullen. Unapproachable even.

"Why him?"

"Because he's hot. And I'm curious to see if you can get him to smile at least," Warren raised her brows, "I dare you."

Y/n tilted her head and assessed him. He was nice and big, taking up a decent amount of space at the bar, broad shoulders and back hunched as he leaned his muscular forearms on the wood of the bar top. Meaty hands placed on either side of his lowball glass. Thick brown waves on top of his head with a bit of silver coming in at the temples. But the handsome features on his face really set him apart. His granite jawline gave way to stubble that stretched over his skin and shaded in the spaces around his pink lips.

If she could "crack" him she wasn't sure she'd want just a smile. He looked yummy enough to eat.

Drinking down the last of her martini she pointed at Warren and then Tara, "Fine. Give me twenty minutes and I'll have him eating from the palm of my hand."

Tara laughed, "If you say so…"

She placed her heeled feet down on the floor and brushed her hands over her dress, "Oh, I do say so. Just watch and learn, ladies."

Y/n wasn't quite that confident, but she wasn't about to say no to dare. And she could hold her own when it came to flirting. She liked getting a little attention and if she could garner this one's interest it might be fun.

She sauntered up to the bar behind the man and noticed the way his t-shirt stretched over his lats and tapered loosely down at his waist. The guy was fit. And lucky her, there was an open stool next to him.

Sliding onto the seat she waved at the bartender to order another drink. She'd need all the courage she could get, in whatever form she could get it.

Tapping her long nails on the lacquered wood she felt nerves thrumming through veins before turning toward the man finally. He hadn't seemed to take note of her yet, which honestly was unusual in most cases. Maybe she thought too highly of herself but men tended to notice her right away. She appreciated the challenge, though.

Reaching her hand into his space to greet him, she pushed down her nerves to sound steady as she spoke, "I'm Y/n."

She watched his brow furrow as he turned to look at her hand and then up at her eyes, his expression, which she expected would soften once he looked at her, was unamused. A single light overhead lit the tops of their heads as a shadow cast over the side of his face and he didn't make a move to shake her hand, "And I'm old enough to be your dad."

A surprised scoff fell from her lips as she moved her hand away from him. She wiggled in her seat and crossed her leg over her thigh toward him, gulping down the initial rejection with as much grace as she could muster, "I think you're jumping to conclusions about my intentions. But so what if you're older than me? I don't mind. We're both adults, right?"

An unimpressed grunt rumbled from his throat before he took another sip of his whisky and he looked away from her toward the TV that hung not far away from where they sat.

The bartender placed her olive martini down on the bar in front of her, "It'll be on Y/n Y/l/n. I already have an open tab."

A sip of the salty drink felt warm down her throat. So he was going to be a bit tough to crack. She turned to look at her friends who were grinning in her direction.

Straightening her back to feel more confident she tried again, "So you're not gonna tell me your name even?"

Without looking at her, he licked his lips and ticked his jaw, "Y/n, I think it's past your bedtime."

She smiled at that. He'd said her name, which meant he'd been listening, "My bedtime is whenever I say it is, not when some grouchy stranger says."

He puffed out an amused laugh through his nose, "I am a stranger. Which means you should be cautious, little girl. Your dad didn't teach you about things like that?" He turned to look down at her again, and that time she saw the soft green color of his eyes as the light hit his face just right.

But now she was really determined. She smiled brightly at him and let her eyes coast over his tattooed arm and then back up to his face, "Are you telling me you're dangerous?"

He still didn't smile as he shook his head like he was surprised by her gall, "Do your parents know what you're up to tonight?"

"I'm 24. Graduated from college, live on my own, pay my bills, have a full-time job. You seem to be awfully worried about my parents. I can take care of myself just fine."

Just then another person sat down next to the man Y/n was trying to whittle away at. He poked his elbow at him, "Who's this?"

"Don't know. Someone who's about to go back to her table with her little girlfriends."

Biting her lip she traced the rim of her martini glass with her fingertip, keeping her eyes set on the handsome tattooed one, "Not even a smile. Just one? Please?"

"Like I already said, I'm way too old for you."

The other man leaned over and reached to tap Y/n's shoulder, "Hey. Forget about Harry, here. You can bring me home with you if you're looking for a daddy tonight."

She frowned and looked him up and down to asses. He was late 40s perhaps, wearing a local band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a backward cap to make himself appear a little more youthful. "No thanks. You'd know if I was interested in you."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at her retort. She was definitely too young but he liked her spunk.

"Now, Harry…" she said his name slowly as she leaned a little closer, "I've got your name thanks to your friend. Can I have a smile?"

"Why?" He stared down at her, the caress of his gaze felt infinite and she found her skin convecting in its wake. He might be hard to crack but this one would be worth it, she determined.

She sighed and slid her finger dangerously close to his wrist as he looked down at her nail and watched her trail it near his arm, "I just hoped to see you smile is all. Too handsome to have such a sour scowl on your face."

"And you're hardly old enough to be so confident to walk up to a strange man at a bar."

She laughed and tilted her head, "You planning on doing something bad to me, Harry?"

And that. That pulled a reaction out of him that spread over his features slowly as he shook his head in disbelief, "Darlin', you wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her eyes widened slightly. Now she was definitely not giving up. Y/n wasn't one to fail and Harry might be making her work hard for it but she couldn't imagine it wouldn't be worth it in the end.

"Is that a challenge or something?" She softly scraped her nail over his tattooed wrist and Harry watched her red nail work over his skin.

His resolve was fading fast. She could tell he wasn't going to keep denying her. And why should he? If he was single, which he appeared to be, what was the harm in having a little fun with someone younger? Y/n didn't mind. And he certainly shouldn't either.

"If it were a challenge you'd know it. Lots of other guys here, Y/n. Go enjoy your night with someone closer to your own age."

She sighed in annoyance. But he hadn't moved his arm away from her and she was going to take that as a sign.

Dragging the toe of her shoe into his shin she grinned, "I don't want to enjoy my night with someone my own age. Not tonight anyway. I think you've convinced me that I need to test out this theory of yours. That you think I can't handle you. Cause I bet I can."

With his eyes piercing into hers, he took another sip of his drink. She thought she might have just convinced him to give her a smile at the very least because it looked like he was weighing his options. And if she could get him to smile she might have luck with the rest.

He tilted his chin upward for a moment, eyes aimed at the ceiling like he was calling on a higher power for strength, "Go back to your friends, Y/n. Any other man here would love to have your company."

"But you wouldn't love to have my company?"

"I mean… I'm still here," the other man raised his hand and leaned into Harry, "Honey we could have so much fun. Any man who'd turn you down is either battin' for the other team or more likely," he chuckled and pushed his shoulder into Harry's teasingly, "He can't get it up anymore."

Y/n's mouth dropped open at that and Harry turned to look at the man. She wished she could see the look on his face, "Sit the fuck back down, John. She already told you she's not interested in you."

"Yeah, and you're not interested in her so what's it matter to you? Look at her, Harry. Practically begging you. Young and bubbly… Tight—"

Harry's hand covered John's throat as he pushed him away, nearly making his stool topple over, "Get the fuck outta here. You had too much whisky tonight."

"Aww… come on Harry… I was just jokin'!"

She watched as he stood from his stool and looked down at John, "And you thought that was funny? You like making jokes about women like that?"

The man put his hands up in surrender, "I'm out. Here…" he threw a wad of cash on the bar top before he moved past Harry and then looked at Y/n, "My apologies if I offended you."

They watched as John left the bar quickly and then Harry sat back down before he waved at the bartender and signaled for the check, "Just the one whisky neat."

"You're leaving already? Night's still young, Harry."

He sucked at his teeth as he scraped his gaze over her face and down to her cleavage. She smiled when she watched the path his eyes had taken.

The bartender handed him the bill and Harry leaned over to pull his wallet from his back pocket.

She scooted closer to him, "You headed home?"

He nodded, but not necessarily in answer to her question, it was more of an appraisal kind of nod. He was still silent as he pulled cash out of his wallet.

"Thanks for that, by the way. I'm sure John's a nice guy and all but he's not really my type. And I'm sure he was wrong about you."

That got his attention. Harry flicked his gaze back to hers, "Wrong about me?"

She smiled, "The part where he said you couldn't get it up. You're not that old. I'm sure you still can. Right?"

He clenched his jaw and breathed out of his nostrils like he couldn't believe she'd asked him such a thing. He handed the bartender his cash with a nod before he stood up from his stool.

"Huh. Since you're so quiet about it maybe he was right," she goaded, pressing her lips together to flatten her smile as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Harry placed a palm down on the bar top next to her hand and leaned over her, "You're out of your depth here, Y/n."

"Now, you don't really know that do you? Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're awfully pushy. Not used to hearing no, are you?"

Y/n watched as the edge of his mouth lifted in amusement and she widened her eyes and pointed, "You're almost smiling."

He shook his head and looked around the bar before pinning his gaze back to hers, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. But your luck has run out with me, princess."

Harry stood to his full height and Y/n decided to try one last time, "So it's true then. What he said."

He stopped and turned to look back at her, a slow burning heat behind his gaze, "Couldn't be further from the truth."

She smiled and slid off her stool to stand in front of him. His height was impressive, "Prove it."

The line of his jaw hardened, turning his cheekbones into slashes of tension. His eyes simmered as he weighed his options. Finally, a hint of a smile stretched over his mouth. A small one, but still.

"I don't need to prove anything to silly little girls."

"Good thing I'm not a silly little girl. I'm a grown woman, Harry."

Y/n knew she was pushing it. She'd never needed to throw herself at any man before. But because of that, she wasn't used to rejection either. Maybe it was a good lesson for her ego. She knew her big fault was how entitled she could act sometimes. But that was partly thanks to how she was raised. It's better to act like a man to get what you want in life, her dad told her. And so far, that had been true. Some women balked at her confidence and her bold attitude. She wasn't demure or sweet enough. And men would often refer to her as a bitch or say that she was trying too hard.

She'd work on her ego another time. But right now? She was focused on winning this battle.

"What do you want with someone like me anyway? Hm? I'm old, Y/n. What's in it for you?"

Blinking her eyes she shook her head, "You're not old, first of all. Secondly, you're really attractive. It doesn't need to go much deeper than that, does it? I just think you're handsome. And I do kind of like a challenge."

"I can see that you like a challenge. It's the only reason I haven't walked out that door yet. Kind of relentless."

She smiled, "So it's working?"

Another half-smile worked its way up his mouth as he laughed in disbelief, "Are you surprised that it is?"

His pupils coasted over her figure and then back up to her face. The warmth of his gaze singed her skin like an open flame.

"I guess I just didn't know how difficult it'd be with you."

He licked his lips, "Difficult. You have no idea. But looks like you're about to find out. Go tell your friends what's going on. Meet me out front."

Y/n watched him turn and walk away. She was shocked. For a minute she thought he wasn't going to go for it at all.

Shaking off the sudden surprise of having gotten to him she settled up with the bartender and then stopped at the table with her friends. They were just about to give her condolences for having oversold her ability but she interrupted. "He's waiting for me outside. Location is on. Don't wait up!"

Harry was leaning against a black car in the parking lot when she stepped out of the doors. The moment he saw her he pushed himself off the car and opened the passenger door for her.

It was going to be tricky to maintain the kind of confidence she'd been feigning with him up until then but there was no part of her that didn't want to find out what he could show her.

She watched as Harry sat down in the driver's seat and started up his car. He took up too much space in the seat. His big hand wrapped around the leather steering wheel while his other encased the shift stick. Even the way he drove was turning her on.

She was pleased that she'd wormed her way under his skin and that he'd given in. She'd try her best to make it worth his while. Reaching across the console she put her hand on his thigh and he glanced down quickly before setting his gaze back on the road.

Now, Harry had slept with younger women a couple of times. He generally preferred someone closer to his age because he liked the confidence and experience that came with age. Women in their 20s were often in a different stage of life and that was fine –normal even, but it just usually wasn't a match for him. Not sexually and not mentally.

But Y/n was unusually confident for being so young. Persistent. He liked it, he couldn't lie. Whether or not she really had much else going for her beyond confidence, he guessed he'd find out. Well, she was very cute too. She did have that in her favor.

And Y/n at least seemed like she knew what she wanted. It was flattering as well. Being approached by such a pretty young thing. He figured the moment he told her to go back to her friends she'd give up but she was just fiery enough that she wasn't deterred.

When she ran her nail over his wrist he knew he was screwed. She was just close enough that he could smell her perfume and then she nudged her shoe into his shin and all he could think about was that she really wanted to be shown a good time and if anyone could it was him.

Harry knew his way around a woman's body. They were all different and he liked finding all the buttons and things that made them purr. In his experience, though, the younger the woman, the less she knew her own body. He didn't know if Y/n was just talking a big game but he was about to find out.

He stayed quiet as she ran her hand down his thigh and he shifted as the car accelerated past the green light. He'd see if she'd do anything with her hand but maybe she'd just pet at him like a novelty toy. He didn't expect—

"This is okay?" She asked him, her tone sultry as she palmed at his crotch.

He licked his lips, "Have at it."

His cock fattened up nicely with not much effort on her part. Proof that he definitely could get it up. Plucking at his button she looked from his face to her fingers as she leaned further over the console to reach her hand into his open pants to help him with the awkward angle of his dick. He seemed to appreciate that as he shifted under her palm.

Rubbing over his heather grey briefs she peeled down the elastic band the slightest to get a peek. The dark shade of pink on his tip matched the muted raspberry of his lips. She slid the pad of her middle finger over the slit and he softly inhaled through his teeth.

She wouldn't be able to give him roadhead like she wanted. It was impossible with the stick shift in the way. But she could wrap her fingers around his shaft and feel him under her palm until they got wherever they were going.

"Mmm… It's so big, Harry. Knew you would be. Might be the biggest I've seen in person. Can't tell yet, though. Have to wait to see when we've got these off."

Harry pushed a laughed breath through his nose. She was a bold thing. Her assertiveness was a turn-on. He didn't like meek and shy. Not when it came to sex.

When she spit into her palm and smeared it down his length, the best she could, he parted his lips and stepped on the gas. She was already exceeding any expectations he had for her. Maybe she'd prove him wrong.

Her nail scraped the underside of him and she moaned, "Really want it in my mouth."

He gulped harshly and ticked his jaw, "Just be patient. I'll let you put it in your mouth soon enough."

"And where are we going? Your place?"

He nodded, "Just a few minutes away."

She squeezed around him and pulled upward slowly. She knew already, he was well above average and she was going to have to work to give him a proper blowy.

His house was a one story, the driveway at the front with a garage attached. He lifted his hand and pushed on a device that was clinging to his sun visor and the garage door began to open. There was a covered motorcycle along the back wall and then the garage door closed after he shut off the engine.

She moved her hand away and unbuckled herself as he got out. When she reached down to pick up her little purse she realized her panties were already wet. She grinned as she stepped out, adjusting her dress before closing the door, and then followed behind him as he led her into a dark hallway.

When he turned on the lights she took it all in. Hardwood floors led into a dining area and then a kitchen. Hung on the walls were photos of himself with two children and then more framed photos with just the kids.

"Do you have kids?"

"I do. Boy and a girl. 7 and 10."

"You're not married are you?"

He laughed, "If I were you'd have known. Wouldn't have been out in the first place if I had a wife waiting for me at home."

She nodded as he turned on the kitchen light and pulled out two glasses before filling them with water.

"Divorced?"

Handing her a glass he squinted, "Yes."

She took a sip. He was a man of few words she'd gathered. She looked around the kitchen. Wood cabinets, an outdated laminate countertop, stainless steel appliances. The space could use some updating but it was large and he had a big pantry.

Sitting the glass down on the counter she watched him closely. His pants were still unbuttoned. She eyed the space at his crotch as he placed his own glass down next to hers.

"It's not gonna suck itself."

She laughed and looked up at him. He had a genuine smile on his face that time. The first real smile she'd seen from him all night. A healthy row of clean teeth, a dimple…

"Hmm… I think you're right. Let's see what we've got…"

She moved in front of him and placed her hands on his pants to push them away but before she could inch them down he wrapped his meaty hand around the back of her neck and drew her into his chest. His mouth was warm and soft. His tongue tasted like the whisky he'd been drinking.

Letting go of his pants she held onto his biceps as he used his free hand to push her hips against his. Still nice and hard. He ran his tongue over her lips and she moaned into his mouth. He worked his warm lips down to her jaw and then he licked upward on her neck, the wet patch was cool on her skin from the air in the kitchen. He did it again and her knees almost gave out. She hadn't been licked like that before.

He kissed over her clavicle and then drew his tongue over her flesh. Her heart was thrumming quickly and she squeezed his strong arms when he rutted against her.

"You good at sucking cock, Y/n?" He pushed his nose against her jawline and the hot breath from his words scattered over the skin on her neck.

"I want to be," she spoke breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed as he mawed at her throat.

He parted from her neck and looked down at her, half-lidded gaze and spit-slicked lips, "Go on."

Instantly she dropped to her knees as her fingers worked deftly at pulling his pants down and then his underwear. She'd sucked a handful of dicks so she knew a couple of moves.

Getting her hand around his thick shaft proved to be a small challenge. To say he was thick… understatement. Long too. His tip was smooth, mushroomed with ridges along the length that she hoped she'd get to feel later on. His was the kind of cock that women dreamed of.

Looking up at him she licked her palm and used her spit to pump him slowly. Another glob over his tip for good measure. Then she pressed a kiss to the base of him, just over his sac, and screwed her eyes upward to watch his expression as she licked his balls, one side at a time. She wound her tongue all around to wet him before sucking at one side, pulling it into her mouth and he let out a ragged breath, his dark pupils spreading inky until the soft green had almost vanished.

He liked it.

She worked around the other side, sucking him in again and swirling her tongue softly underneath the tender bits. He gripped the counter behind himself.

Pulling off she straightened her back and licked upward, feeling every delicious thick ridge along his shaft until her tongue met his smooth crown. Laving every crevice of his tip, she dipped her tongue into his slit and then ran it under the frenulum before she wetted every inch of his glans.

Her mouth was watering when she parted her lips around him and flitted her gaze upward. He was watching her with a slack jaw as she took him a little deeper. He cradled the back of her head and moaned.

"Just suck the tip…."

She blinked up at him and pulled her lips just over the lip, swirling and suckling around him like he wanted.

"Fuck. Just like that." His hand at the back of her head was easy. He didn't push or pull. It was more like a pleased gesture as his fingertips flexed around her skull gently.

Y/n would have liked to have gone deeper. Wanted to show him her best work. But he seemed rather happy with what she was doing.

She bobbed a couple of times, only to slide her lips back to his tip. Her pace was slow when she began to stroke his length with a little twisting motion.

He was big. She knew she could take more but in a way, she was grateful that that was all he was asking for.

A groan fell from his chest and he bucked forward, his cock slipping down her tongue and she sucked, drawing more of him in as she moved her hands away.

"Goddamnit, you're good."

She took that as permission to go deeper. Relaxing her jaw she closed her eyes and held her breath, pushing down to her limit. She filled her throat with his cock the best she could and gurgled around his tip.

He coughed out a moan and then thumbed at her cheek, "Alright, that's good."

She pulled off of him. His heavy cock aimed right at her face when she sat back on her knees and looked up at him, "I can do better than that."

He laughed and put his hand out for her to take, helping her stand up, "I bet you can. Come on."

Harry kept her hand in his as he led her to his bedroom. It was just past the dark living space and he turned on a floor lamp on the opposite side of the room from the bed. When he turned back toward her he cupped her face and kissed her again.

She pressed her hand into his warm, hard chest and he reached around the back of her dress to pull the zipper downward, his fingers dragging down her skin as he went. His touch sent a tremor down her spine as continued kissing her wetly.

He stepped back, helping her out of her dress until it fell to the floor. His eyes raked over her body and he smoothed his hands over her hips and up to her bra-covered breasts. He stepped in closer, walking her backward toward his bed. He put his hands back on her hips and nudged her to sit before he reached down to lift her leg up by her calf, removing her heels, one at a time.

Y/n's thong was drenched. She stared at him while he placed her shoes side by side at the foot of the bed and then he placed his big palms on her thighs, pushing her legs open, "Lie back."

She let her back hit the mattress as Harry got to his knees on the floor. An arm reached under her thigh as he spread her apart and then she felt her panties being pulled at until her her wet pusslips were right in his face. He groaned and felt a hand slide up the inside of her thigh. He pressed his mouth over her mons and looked up at her before he opened his mouth wide and drew his tongue through her crease making her gasp.

"Get your bra off."

She pushed herself up slightly and worked at the clasp of her bra between moans as Harry continued licking at her pussy. When she pulled her arm through the flimsy material he lifted his head and reached around her back, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed and he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck!"

Y/n's finger and her long nails pushed into Harry's hair and scraped at his scalp as he licked and pulled at each nipple. He buried his face between her tits and let out a low sound, like he was murmuring something to her but only her breasts were allowed to hear it.

When he sunk back down he pushed at her so she'd lie back and he started in on her clit, one hand holding her panties to the side as he devoured her glistening cunt.

She kept feeling like she was going to slide off the edge of the bed but Harry's grip on her kept her still. His tongue and his lips were magic as he drew her to her end. She yanked at his hair and babbled his name on repeat as her spine bowed off the bed when she came.

Her chest was still rising and falling heavy when she felt her body being pushed upward. She popped her eyes open and watched him roll a condom over his shaft before he kneed back up onto the bed next to her. He was stark naked. His body was insane. Thick muscle and masculine everything. Tattoos scatter over his arms and chest.

Fuck, she muttered under her breath.

"Flip over, for me," his deep voice was husky as he motioned toward her to move.

She rolled to her stomach and she felt his fingers slide between the band of her panties and her hips as he pulled them down her legs.

"Ass up a little. I want to see all of you, Y/n."

She grinned and turned to look at him over her shoulder as she lifted her hips and spread her thighs. His lips were parted as he grabbed her ass and squeezed, making her cheeks spread apart. He inhaled sharply through his teeth and then dipped in, kissing her pussy from behind before licking upward over her ass.

She squealed quietly and bit her lip, still watching him behind her as he lifted, a lopsided grin on his face. He gazed at her as he fisted the base of his cock and slid the head up and down her soaked folds before he tipped his hips to push in just the tip.

"Gorgeous. Gonna look even better wrapped around cock. You like anal?"

"Never tried it."

He licked his lips and pressed his lips together as he looked at the spot where his dick was pressed against her cunt, "Figured. S'alright. Pussy's my favorite anyway."

"We could try… if you want."

He looked back into her eyes, a cocky smile on his face, "Your little hole would need to be trained. And that takes time. So, there will be no anal tonight. Not gonna try and hurt you. But that's a cute thought."

He canted his hips inward, eyes on hers and her mouth dropped open when she felt her entrance splitting open for him. She was tight, but so slick, it only took a few slow thrusts until he was buried in with a low grunt. He pulled back and then pushed his entire length into the hilt.

"Fuck—fuck!" She cried and stuffed her face into the blankets.

"Too much?"

"No! It's so good. You're just so big…" She began to send her hips back against him and Harry slowly fucked in to match her pace. His eyes were everywhere. On her puss getting split open on his cock, the curve of her lower back, the swell of her ass.

He just knew she'd look so sweet with her ass stuffed too, but good things like that couldn't be rushed which was a shame.

Every thrust was gushy wet. Y/n bubbled out small moans every time his dick brushed deep into her guts. It was better than she imagined. The way he filled her to the brim was going to turn into an addiction. She'd never slept with any man that had her wanting seconds before they'd even finished.

"Oh my god…" she mewled into the comforter.

"Fuck, I know, baby…"

She fit him like a glove, it was perfect. He went in a little faster, balls thudding against her skin rhythmically making her bounce forward as she spread around his girth. When he ground in she arched her back deeply and let out a soft groan, her hands fisted at the blanket and Harry reached around and smeared his fingertips over her clit.

It had her panting and pushing into him feverishly. She'd needed the friction on her throbbing button and he'd found it easily, thick, rough fingerprints slicking back and forth as he rutted in and in. It sent electrical sparks over her limbs.

"Like that? Needs her clit touched? Shit baby, act like you've never been touched by a man right here before…" he plucked at her like he was playing the guitar and she began to fade, her moans getting caught in her chest.

He could feel her walls tightening around him as he drove in deep.

"Fuck, Harry— fuck!"

He grinned as he watched her shudder, "Give it up, Y/n. There you go…"

She began to pulse around him, a constant stream of nonsense falling from her lips as he stroked against her channel and pushed deep into her tummy, his fingers still working her clit with ease.

Just as her body had tipped and oxygen returned to her lungs he pulled out and she felt him taking her hips and turning her around to her back. Harry grabbed her ankles and lifted until each was settled over his shoulders and pushed back inside of her, cock drilling down to her core making her teeth chatter at the way he split her down the middle.

Harry leaned over her, cock buried deep as she watched her pretty face twist up with pleasure. Plapping into her, her tits wobbled as his balls tightened against his body. The harder he plunged in, the more her legs shook. Soon, her ankles had slipped down and her feet hit the mattress as he continued drilling into her. His face was flushed hot, lips parted, muscles tensed.

Reaching up to his neck she smoothed her fingers over his warm skin and he lowered his chest down to hers and kissed her. That filthy tongue ran over her lips and he sloppily sipped at her between sucking at her lips. Her brain had turned to jelly.

She felt his hand on her outer thigh squeezing and brushing as he fucked down into her. "Mmm… fuck, Y/n, m'gonna come…"

He trembled over her, thick thighs pressed down and flexed as he rutted in and in and in, and then… he stilled. A deep, guttural moan vibrated through his chest down into hers.

She sighed when she felt him throbbing, pumping into his condom. Her fingers caressed the muscles over his back and she gasped when he bucked in harshly, once more as he emptied the last of his come into the rubber wrapped around his cock.

He slowed his kisses until they were lazy little pecks and then he looked down at her, his chest heaving. She was already grinning up at him.

"What?"

She blinked her eyes, "That was fun."

He puffed out a breath, "I guess that's a good way to describe it."

Harry was a gentleman as he pulled out slowly and helped her off the bed and led her to his bathroom. He helped her clean up and listened to her tell him about her job —just reminding him that she was an adult after he commented on her being so young again.

When she picked her dress up off the floor and started to step into it, Harry frowned, "What are you doing?"

She stopped and raised her brows. "Getting dressed. Was gonna call an Uber. I'm sure you don't want a stranger in your house all night," she laughed.

Harry pulled at her hand, making her drop her dress, "What kind of men have you been hanging out with that let you leave in an Uber at 2 am? You'll stay here."

She opened her mouth and then closed it in surprise before tilting her head in confusion, "Really? I just assumed—"

"You'll stay the night here. There's no way in hell you're getting an Uber at this time of night. It's dangerous."

She grinned and shrugged, "Well then… can I have a shirt or something to sleep in?"

He placed his warm hands on her hips, "You can have a t-shirt if you like. I prefer to sleep naked myself."

"Oh yeah? I usually do too as a matter of fact."

He held her out in his arms and eyed her naked frame, "Looks like we're both good to go then. We'll get you sorted in the morning. I'll give you a ride home then."

"I think you just want to keep me here with you," she chuckled.

Harry shook his head and released her hips before he popped her on the bottom with his palm. She bleated out a laugh.

"Get your ass in bed before I change my mind."

"Yes, sir."

. .

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golden-ebony · 3 months ago

Text

Ten's a Crowd ·ᴥ·✿˖°

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 2.4k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: SMUT! MINORS DNI, p-v, oral fem!receiving, a tad of overstimulation,

♡ Summary: As Robo said: Logan would turn your plushies around before fucking you raw btw, he told me himself—pulls em off to the side with a gruff little “You don’t wanna see this next part bub” before turning you every way BUT loose.

♡ Note: @robo-writing MADE A POST THAT MADE ME BOTH SCREAM CHUCKLE AND INSPIRED TO CREATE THIS PIECE. robo is also one of my favs so check them out too!

You wanted to take it slow with Logan. Even if every bone in your body wanted to jump his, you actually liked him and didn’t want to do anything you believed could sabotage your budding relationship. This was a mutual yet unspoken understanding between the two of you.

He had every intention of taking things slow with you–make his intentions clear. Having met you while you bartended at his favorite spot, you had seen him pick up and take a few girls home. You were different, and he wanted to make that clear.

Still, every time Logan dropped you off at your apartment, it became more charged. After your first date, he simply dropped you off. After your second and third date, it ended in short yet sensual kisses. The tension was building the entirety of your fourth date. When Logan had you pressed against your apartment building door, your moans were smothered by the passionate open mouth kisses. And by god, you wanted to give in, but mother nature had other plans for you. Despite either of your wishes, you called it a night.

Your fifth date was at a drive in-movie. You brought the blankets that were laid out in the bed of Logan’s truck. The both of you admittedly got a handsy during the movie, practically missing the end of the movie.

As Logan parked in the front of your building, he carried the folded blankets that you brought to your building door. Before he could offer to bring the blankets up for you, you muttered the four words he had been waiting to hear for almost a month.

“You wanna come up?”

Logan couldn't help but perk up at that question. Your voice was as sweet as honey, and the soft glow of the porch light framed your face perfectly. He tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his lips tugged into a small smile when you invited him up.

"Course," he said, his voice rough and low as he tried to contain the lewd thoughts that started flooding his brain.

As you brought him up the elevator, the tension between the two of you was thicker than the blankets he carried. You needed him–need him bad.

As soon as you entered the apartment, you told Logan that he could put the blankets on the couch. He haphazardly tossed them on the cushions but didn’t take his eyes off you. The intensity in his eyes was betraying the restraint he was trying to maintain for weeks.

Barely a beat afterward, you were all over each other. The kiss was sloppy, your tongue immediately submitting to his. Logan’s hand roamed slightly under your sweater, fingers pressing against the warmth of your skin.

Stumbling backward toward your bedroom, Logan kept his lips on your, drinking in the taste that he desperately wanted–hell, needed. As he laid you down, he didn't break the kiss, slowly trailing his hand up your thigh. His lips found their way to your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about this all night, darlin’,” he growled against your neck as he hovered over you. His grip on your thigh tightened, earning a gasp from your lips. “Just like that, baby, I need to hear ya.”

Logan’s other hand hiked up farther near your head until his hand began crushing something soft, something smaller than a pillow. Still focused on marking the skin over your pulse, he moved his hand again just to squish another item, almost losing his grip on the bed.

With a hint of frustration, Logan’s eyes glared open. His stare was immediately met with glossy, black buttoned eyes of a brown cow and the cheery eyes and blushing face of…maybe a dumpling, he thought.

He paused his lips’ freezing against your skin. Logan pulled away slightly to get a better look at what was under his hand. He chuckled, his voice gravelly as he looked down at the squished yet irate octopus.

You sighed due to the loss of contact, swiveling to see what had caught Logan’s attention over the woman he was making out with. He had a mixed expression of confusion and amusement.

“You find my plushies entertaining?” you softly giggled, propping yourself up by your elbows.

“I just…” Logan’s voice was gruff with a smirk as he sized up the 6–no, 8–plushies eyeing him down. The cow, dumpling, octopus, platypus, jellyfish, hot sauce bottle, bumblebee, and mushroom propped against your pillows all had their eyes on Logan, silently judging him. “I just didn’t expect an audience. Your little posse is a bit intimidating,” he teased, looking down at you with a cheeky grin.

“Didn’t think you were one to falter under pressure,” you chuckled. From your back, you turned to look at your plushies. You gave him a tantalizing look as you grabbed the angry octopus from his hand, shaking it in his face. “They’re just here to be cute.”

“Yeah, they’re cute.” Logan’s attention was diverted back to your exposed abdomen from your slightly lifted sweater. A deep growl emitted from his chest as he lifted your sweater further to reveal your plum colored bra. His large hand cupped your right breast as a wry smile grew on his lips. “But what I’m planning on doing with you…it’s far from cute, sweetheart.”

Logan was quick to remove your sweater, throwing it toward the mushroom, causing it to fall off the bed entirely. He dipped back down to your lips with a renewed passion. Dropping the octopus on your nightstand, you were quick to tug at Logan’s t-shirt, practically begging to lose it.

Ripping it off, you could feel your arousal pool at the sight of his broad, hairy chest and sculpted form. Over your head, he tossed his shirt. It landed over the eyes of the soft platypus, but you didn’t notice. You were too enveloped in the hot kisses Logan was lying between the valley of breasts down to the waist of your leggings. His rough hands massaged your breasts until they popped out of their constraints.

Ragged short moans fell from your lips as he grazed and twerked your hardened nipples. Your hands raked over his larger hands before moving to his taunt shoulders, nails scraping his shoulder blades. Logan grunted as he felt your nails rake across his shoulders, his darkened eyes locking on you, hungry and filled with lust.

“Love the pretty moans you make for me, baby,” Logan groaned, his hands moving to the sides of your leggings to wiggle you out of them. Taking your panties with them, you were exposed to Logan. The glisten and scent of your arousal was too tempting.

Feeling his warm breath against your aching cunt, you inched forward, desperate for any form of contact, “Please, Logan. I need to feel you…”

Without another word, Logan applied a heavy striped lick against your cunt all the way to your pulsing clit. A stuttered moan escaped your lips as Logan buried his face into your cunt, wrapping his arms around your soft thighs to pull you closer and keep you legs opened wide.

“Hm, so fuckin’ sweet. All for me, sweetheart?” he muttered against your cunt, the vibrations causing a shiver to run up your spine. You almost missed what he said as tongue lap and darted into your sopping core at a speed that had to be sinful.

You could barely get the words out. Your mind was reeling with such intense pleasure that Logan could only grab your attention again by nipping on your inner thigh. You quickly winced

“You gotta speak up, darlin’. I gotta hear you,”

“All for you, Lo-Logan! Because of you!” Despite your volume, your voice came off small and pathetic as your need for Logan grew.

Rewarding you, Logan pressed a harsh kiss against your clit, sending shockwaves through you. Your hips tried to buck but were secured firmly by the strength of Logan. He was practically making out with your cunt, his nose adding just enough pressure to your clit to run you like a facet.

“So goddamn pretty, so perfect,” he softly breathed against you, darkened eyes temporarily meeting your lust-blown ones like man possessed. Your head tilted back in ecstasy, his stare too intense.

Your finger interlocked with your comforter and his hair. The grip Logan had to keep around your thighs only grew harsher as you thrashed around him. It was a vicious cycle. Your elevated moans drove Logan to delve deeper which only made your thrashing worse and your moans more boisterous. Logan knew you’d learn better once you woke up with the bruised prints in the morning. You knew you’d cherish them.

From your tightened grip on his hair and the sheets, Logan knew you were near your edge. His name was spilling out of your lips as if it was the only word you knew now. Coming up for air didn’t matter; Logan was prepared to drown in your soaked core.

Your climax was almost violent, your legs quiver as you released. Logan lapped it up like a dying dog, the taste of you making him moan. He couldn’t help but rut against the edge of your bed as he licked you clean through your high. The friction was welcomed but not enough.

Your body relaxed as you tried taking in deep breaths to regain a semblance of control. Before releasing your thighs, Logan affixed one last bold brush to your ruined cunt for good measure. Your cheeks were flushed as you looked down at him again. His eyes locked with yours, dark and intense. His eyes seemed almost feral, his need for you evident. He needed more–more of you, all of you.

Logan slowly kissed a path up your body, pausing momentarily to admire the indented prints he had left on your hips. He relished the taste of your skin, his lips leaving a trail of light kisses along your thighs, hips, your stomach, your chest. Your body was still quivering

Finally, his face, still damp with your arousal, was mere inches away from yours, a smug smile on his lips. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before he spoke, his voice a low, rough whisper.

“You okay, darlin’?”

You huffed into a small smile. It floored you how he’d asked, knowing damn well he could still feel your toes curling and your leg involuntarily shaking. It floored you further how badly you still wanted him.

Kissing the corners of your mouth, darting your tongue to gather the remainder of your arousal from his face, you hand grazed his growing bulge. You received a strained grunt from Logan.

“Why do you still have these on?” The sound of your rough and sultry voice, your question–it only made the strain in his jeans worse.

Standing and exposing his full physique, he was quick to remove his jeans and briefs. Your eyes went wide as the sight of his thick, engorged cock, the tip already leaking down a vein.

Logan chuckled lowly at the sight of your reaction. Seeing your widened eyes and parted lips, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“So goddamn greedy, baby. Didn’t get enough already?” he mocked, laying down to cage you under the weight of his body again.

In response, you pulled him closer, your lips attached to his neck. Your tongue smoothed over every nip. Logan growled, his cock finding some relief from the friction against your hip.

Logan's eyes softened as he was again face-to-face again with the soulful eyes of your cow, slightly tilted on its side. Its fallen comrades were on the floor, preemptively averting their own innocent eyes.

He spoke gruffly, under his breath, “Uh, yeah, you don’t wanna see this next part, bub.” He picked up the cow and spun it around, leaning it against the headboard.

Your plushies didn’t see it, and you could barely handle it. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes as Logan continued to roughly push into you climax after climax after climax. From your back to your stomach to your side, your body was completely coated with sweat and pleasure. Hearing you moan, beg, and whimper only drove Logan to push you further and further till the only word you could conjure was his name.

“It’s not too much, sweetheart, yeah?” Logan’s warm breath groaned against the back of your neck, raising the hairs on it. His bulky arm hooked around to belly, trapping your pelvis against his. He had slowed his tempo in comparison to the previous two rounds, but he hadn’t been this deep. With his leg The tip of his cock was pressing faint kisses against your cervix. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he could witness your face contort in continued pleasure. “You can take it, baby. Taking me so fuckin’ good all night.”

Your voice was gravelly–surely going to be gone in the morning–as your exhausted eyes peered toward Logan, “I-I can’t, Lo-gan…not again.”

“C’mon, just one more for me, baby. Fuckin’ sinful how good you feel,” he murmured against your flushed cheek.

You nodded as you watched Logan hand move down to your overstimulated clit. The slightest pressure was enough to make your soft walls abruptly clench around his cock with a lusty ring. Rolling your hips against his, Logan was close to losing it. A growl escaped Logan’s chest as he picked up his pace–a stuttered pace.

“That’s it, baby. Let it happen. Drench my cock.”

“Fuck, Logan!” You cried, your entire low body trembling against his. Your own arousal dripped down to your thigh, dampening your blanket.

Logan pressed your arched back closer to his hairy chest. With one final thrust, he was incoherently grunting before staining your walls with his seed. Filled with his warmth, you felt your body completely relax–finally.

Logan's breathing was ragged against your neck. The only things that filled the room were your and Logan’s shared pants and the scent of your mixed arousals. He held you like that for a few moments, his heart pounding against your back. Logan was now having second thoughts about ravishing so rashly for your first time.

“Too much?” Logan asked, his voice tired and laced with concern as his hand softly massaged your side.

You wrapped your hand behind you to caress Logan’s cheek. A weak smile formed on your lips, “No, no…it was…” You couldn’t find the words. Your brain was foggy with gratification. Instead, you reached for your irate octopus on your nightstand. Quickly inverting the plushie, the octopus now had a gleeful expression.

Handing it to Logan, he gruffly chuckled, accepting your response. He planted a chaste kiss on your cheek with a satisfied smile. It was just the beginning for you two–or the ten of you.

♡ note: i love hearing y'all's thoughts

#logan howlett #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman #x men #x men fic #logan howlett fic #britt fics #logan smut #wolverine x reader #the wolverine #wolverine smut #wolverine x female reader

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seouljazzbar · 6 months ago

Text

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.�� He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

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