#THEY SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME DO YOU SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME I SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME

[bi-writes]

Thinking about going into labor while your partner is on the way somewhere unimportant, who refuses to come home to help you. And instead of being alone and scared, you hang up and call up one of your childhood friends everyone thought you'd wind up with. Kyle shows up at your door, furious but does his best to hide it, and helps you through it all. Next day the father of your child has the audacity to show up like nothing is wrong to see Kyle holding your baby so you can take a well deserved nap.

he picks up on the third ring. you tremble, gripping the edge of the porcelain tub. when you finally hear his voice, just the sound of him soothes your beating heart, just a little.

"'ello, love."

"kyle?" you sniffle. his background quiets a bit. you hear a door close, and then he's a bit louder.

"hey, love. what's wrong? you sound upset."

"my water broke," you hiccup. "a-and i...i was in the bath...i-i..." you close your eyes. "i can't get out of the tub."

"jesus fucking christ." you whimper, but kyle just hums. "not you, baby. hey, you just relax, alright? you said you were in the bath. just relax, and i'll be there soon."

"kyle--"

"don't be scared," kyle chuckles, and you whine a little. "hey, you're gonna have a baby. you've been waiting for this, yeah? haven't you?"

"y-yeah..."

"aren't you excited? you always tell me how much you can't wait, right?"

"yeah..."

"don't be scared," kyle repeats. "you just relax. be happy. she's coming today!"

you smile, wiping your face a little, and when kyle hears your giggle, he sighs.

"good girl. you sit tight."

so you do. you lean against the side of the tub, and you rest in the warm water as you stare at your phone screen.

he won't answer the phone. he hasn't read your texts. he's not coming.

you hear the front door open and close, and then there's a gentle knock on the bathroom door. when kyle comes in, you try to cover up, moving your hands over your tits, embarrassed, but kyle just goes to look for a clean towel to help you out.

"it's okay, love, i won't look," kyle tells you. he smiles at you, cupping your face gently, and you look into his dark eyes. "you look so pretty. you're glowin', y'know that?" you smile through gentle tears, putting a hand over your belly, and you try to move, but it's no use. kyle drops the towel, kneeling, and you shake your head.

"i-i can't get out--" you gasp, and kyle rolls up his sleeves over his thick forearms, putting the towel over his shoulder before he reaches for you.

"it's alright. i'll get you out. i'll try not to look, okay?"

"i'm so embarrassed...i'm so sorry, kyle..." you sniffle.

"don't apologize, love. i got it. give me your hands, put 'em around me."

you lift up your wet arms, wrapping them around his neck. you press your chest against his, and he picks you up as you stand, helping you to your feet. as you cup your belly, he wraps the towel around you, covering you, and then he holds your hand as you step out of the tub.

"alright. now where's your bag, darling?"

kyle grabs your bag and supplies as you get dressed in your room. as you pull your socks on, kyle comes up behind you, smoothing your hair down your back before he starts to braid it. he used to braid your hair all the time when you were kids--he always said he wanted to practice for his sisters.

"you got the car seat, kyle?" you ask as he holds your hand, and he nods.

"mhm. in the car already."

"a-and the diaper bag?"

"in the boot."

"my extra clothes? and my...my stuff?"

"mhm. i got it, love. and whatever you forgot, i'll get it for you. alright, up, buckle in, that's a girl."

he holds your hand the entire way. you groan softly when a particularly painful contraction hits you, but when you squeeze kyle's hand, all he does is squeeze back. you take deep breaths, leaning your head back, and he hums.

"you're doing so well, love. so well."

"why..." your eyes water. you squeeze his hand again, and when you look down, your vision is blurry from your tears. "why didn't he answer? w-why...why doesn't he...w-why would he..."

"don't worry your pretty head about tha', love," kyle interrupts you gently. "only thing you need to worry about is you and her. i got it."

"o-okay."

she's beautiful. she looks more like you than her father, and kyle counts that blessing. she's got your eyes, your nose, your hair. her cheeks belong to her father, but she might as well be your twin, and when kyle takes her from you later that night, rocking her gently, he can really see up close how much she looks like you.

in the middle of the night, kyle holds your hand as you get up to go to the bathroom. your entire body is tender and sluggish, but kyle keeps you upright as you walk, kissing your head gently as he helps you take a seat on the toilet.

he even gets your underwear set up for you, with the big pad and everything, and he helps you step into it and slips them up and over your hips. you're a tearful mess as he does this, but kyle just presses his forehead against yours.

the look in his eyes, you will never forget it. the intensity. the commitment. the stability. every time you pick up the phone, kyle answers, and sometimes he's thousands of miles away. your own boyfriend can't even have the decency to answer when you're nine months pregnant--what did he fucking think the call was going to be about?

back in your room, kyle fits into the bed with you. he lets your rest your head on his chest, and when you ask him if he's going to go home, he tells you this is close enough.

in the morning, kyle's sitting outside your room with the baby. he's holding her, touching her little nose, letting you sleep in. you had a rough night, and when he found you still with your eyes closed that morning, he figured he would let you keep sleeping, just for an extra hour or so.

you deserve it.

"is that her?"

kyle's head turns with a snap. standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, is your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. not man enough to answer the phone when you most needed him, not strong enough to do the right thing and marry you, and not wise enough to realize all he had to do was take care of you, and the world would be right again. you're not greedy. you don't ask for anything. all you want is to love and be loved, and kyle doesn't think that's too much to ask for, kyle thinks you're one of the most selfless women he's ever known, so why does this fucking bastard of a man get to call himself this girl's father?

kyle looks back down, fixing the blanket over your daughter's neck carefully. he thinks he did pretty good swaddling her this time, but you might have an opinion on it.

"i'm gonna say somethin', mate," kyle says lowly. "'n after i say it, y'r gonna do some thinking, real thinking."

he laughs a little, shaking his head.

"why don't you give me my baby, and get the fuck outta 'ere?"

kyle looks up and snickers, shaking his head. he gets a better grip on your daughter, sitting back, and he fixes your ex with a sinister smile.

"and what if i don't? you gonna take her from me?" kyle chuckles. "i'd love to see you try."

he stands, raising a brow.

"listen here, and listen close." kyle takes a step closer to him. "you're a right pile of shit comin' here thinking that you can just waltz right in and be daddy of the year, alright? what kind of man are you, eh? your girl in need, callin' you, and you don't even have the fuckin' balls to answer her? take a good look at your kid, mate, cause it's the last time you're ever gonna see her."

"no, i have the right--"

"to fuck right off," kyle snaps. "if i see you near her or her daughter ever again, i'll find you, and i'll make it worth your while, mate. make you feel real sorry finally, y'hear me? 'n when i take her back home, all of your junk better be out the flat. otherwise, i'll fucking burn it."

"kyle?"

your voice pulls him away. kyle adjusts the baby in his arm, going back inside, and he shuts the door behind him, finding your eyes. you reach for the baby, arms outstretched, and kyle easily sets her down in them, watching as you cradle the tiny thing into the crook of your neck and stroke the back of her neck.

the nurses come in and drop off a few papers. one stops, looking at kyle, giving him a big smile.

"congratulations," she tells him, and he smiles back at her. she takes a seat next to him, holding out a clipboard. "do you think i could get a few details? i just need to know mum's name, baby's name--"

kyle gives it to her. your birthplace. your birthday. your name. your baby's name. then she flips a paper over, putting her pen down.

"and dad's name?" she asks.

kyle sighs, leaning back in his chair. they don't give out birth certificates right away. you have to request it. you won't find out, not just yet, maybe he'll even pick it up for you. you'll be much too busy being mummy dearest.

"kyle," he tells her, flashing her that big smile. she blushes a little, writing it down. "kyle garrick."

he looks back at where you are, your eyes on him. you smile shyly when your eyes meet, and kyle leaves the nurse to come up to you and drape a hand behind your head. he strokes along your hair gently, thumbing at your temple.

"i heard you outside, kyle."

"did you?"

"and i heard you just now."

"mm."

you blink, reaching for the edge of his shirt, and you pull him down, further, until his face is nearly against yours.

"i guess i shouldn't be surprised," you say softly, reaching up to smooth a a few knuckles down his cheek. he leans into it, licking his lips, and you bite your lip. "you've always had a habit of...taking what doesn't belong to you, huh?"

kyle laughs. always the pretty boy, ever since you were little. one smile from him--kyle could get away with anything. anything at all.

"who says you don't belong to me?"

[simpjaes]

SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. ― S.JY

When your best friend quite literally gifts you an entire man, you realize that you’re in no place to pretend that you don’t love it.  or the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and Jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. Only because he needs you. 

MDNI! reblogs help writers, so please show your support through a reblog! PAIRING ― stripper!sim jaeyun x rich!afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 13.6k

CONTENT―  he’s a switch and desperately wants to be ur sugar baby, you’re a boring rich bitch who has no interest at first, masturbation, reader is kind of power-hungry, jake chokes her NOTE ― if you’ve read this before, specifically for jeno, hi. that was written by me back in 2022 except now it’s way better and not an absolute trash-fire. enjoy! not proof read kind of.

nsfw tags under cut::

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NSFW TAGS― jake is a stripper so obv dancing and stripping, HE’S VERY SWITCH BUT MOSTLY SUBBY HERE, hand job, masturbation, choking without permission, finger fucking, making out, protected sex omg GASP, slight nipple play, riding, lil bit of stomach bulge, sensitive cock continues to get fucked lmfao

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift.

A downpayment of six hundred dollars told you enough about the man. It’s obvious he offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who have no one else to spend their money on. A parasite, a leech, is what he is. Yet, still, your best friend has been taunting you with the idea for months in an attempt to have you give the guy a try.

She had apparently heard of the infamous Jake through various means. All rich women, all lonely and unsatisfied women. Which, to you only seems like a fucking insult to be taunted with the very idea of hiring this man. What is she implying? That you’re lonely and unsatisfied? Please.

Some best friend. Then again, she has since experienced Jake herself, and now her taunting feels more like…promises. 

“He’s so clean, toned, and oh god–” She had paused with a flush across her cheeks as she thought back to the heated night. “The way he moves, shit, he teases so much. I could have died right then and there if he were to–” 

The expression of disinterest on your face did not halt her doting, nor did the blatant grimace you eventually shot at her. Genuinely, you cannot take her seriously. Already you know too much about her, which is nice and all, but you could do without the details of her little stripper friend and how “wet” he left her. 

“I even heard that sometimes he even gives special treatments with his services…” She had rolled her eyes after she said that, almost looking offended. “Not that I'd know or anything, he took my cash and left when our session was up.” 

You recall knowing exactly what that “treatment” probably entailed, and the reason your best friend didn’t get it was likely due to the fact that she’s, well, not that rich. You’d assume such an expensive man wouldn’t give special treatments to women who wouldn’t end up being repeat customers anyway. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t trying to drain her dry. 

And even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, practically force fed to you, the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner– for the entire duration of her doting compliments of Jake, you are simply not fucking interested. There’s other things to do in life, more to worry about than getting your body excited for someone who will never finish the job. 

Last week was when your bestie told you all about her single night with him. In fact, her entire visit was just her speaking of him, of how great he is, of how alluring he is. Arguably, you see that she’s a bit obsessed. Does it make you curious? Maybe a little bit, but not enough to actually give him a go yourself. And so, after that visit, you watched her leave with a menacing, evil little glint in her eye. You ignored it, as per usual considering she’s always up to something, unaware that the visit she lends to you today is not a complimentary marketing campaign of a male stripper, no, it’s a fucking ambush. 

When she appeared at your doorstep, she said nothing. She didn’t even look you in the eye, actually. Weird.  She did, however, have an envelope in her hand and you were almost offended at how she threw it at you and trotted away without a single greeting or goodbye. No afternoon lunch over champagne, no gossip, no advertising. Just an envelope. 

Suspicious.

Upon opening said envelope, you find that your bitch of a best friend dropped that six hundred dollar down payment, likely in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you always are. There’s a note. Your name in bold letters, a date, a time, and a signature of none other than “Jake Sim” with a fucking website on the back. 

Shortly after huffing and rolling your eyes, about two seconds from tossing her six hundred dollars in the trash, you feel your phone ping to show your best friend texting you. 

Best Friend: I paid for it, you just have to tip him. a lot. tip him a lot. You: why the fuck would you buy a stripper for me?

Best Friend: you need it, trust me. 

So, now here you are waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for some dude that’s about to swing his meat in your face. Appearance, reputation, whatever. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there’s a stripper out there that only does private parties and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look? 

He’s going to be expecting more than just you here, alone in your house. Surely, he won’t be expecting to waltz into someone’s home all oiled up only to find one very disinterested woman. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

To your dismay, Jake has apparently already been warned of you. Your best friend probably told him that you’re a nightmare, too difficult to fluster or gain an interest from. The first words out of his mouth when you opened your door was “She said you’d give me that look.”

Still, even so, your best friend wasn’t lying to him. You played the part of yourself all too well as you watched him saunter into your home as if he owned the place. You’re impressed actually, with the way he doesn’t seem to feel out of place in such a lavish room. He looks…comfortable here as he scopes out his stage for the night, like he belongs. 

“Big place, looked smaller on the outside.” He says casually, filling the silence in the room since you make no attempt yourself to greet him. 

You watch as he tosses his bag beside your living room couch and eyes the spacious area just in front of the large fireplace. His eyes flick to the windows, to the walls, counting the outlets and looking for shelves with space. 

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You finally speak, admitting a small weakness of yours almost immediately. You are lonely, despite never wanting to admit it. And you watch as he shrugs, now crouching to grab wires from his bag. 

“Oh yeah?” He glances at you. “Must get lonely. What a good friend to purchase me to help you with that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at that, noting his calm and cool tone as he talks his business. The little smirk at the corner of his lips is charming, but it’s all for show. He’s just a pretty man, that’s all he’s got going for him and you guess you can respect the hustle. 

“This was not my doing.” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. 

“Yeah, yeah–” He waves you off as he begins to set up, making space for small lights to set the mood, looking to see if you have a sound system he can use. “I already know that you’re new to this.” He’s still calm, still collected.

“Lucky for you, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.” He smirks again, now looking directly at you as he, now, fluffs some of your couch pillows. 

Your curiosity spikes again only for a moment. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual. You half expected him to waltz in cock swinging. Wasn’t he, like, supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? You know, show up and press play on a magical stereo that didn’t exist beforehand and start vibrating on you? 

Instead, he’s just setting up…fully clothed in a ratty sweater with jeans that hug his thighs. He doesn’t appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off. It makes you wonder. Makes you want to ask questions. Then again, you still have no interest in learning about him considering you already know exactly what he will be doing soon enough. 

“You’re good with the mood lighting, yeah? Or do you prefer the morgue lighting?” His eyes shoot up to the bright white lights on your ceiling as he goes for his laptop now, presumably to connect it to your very obvious sound system.

You only take slight offense to his comment on your living room lighting, considering you have a control panel that can make them way less blinding, but– he’s right. And now you’re a little insecure that you prefer such a drab color in your home. You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel just to prove you have warm lighting too, and that you can adjust the brightness. 

“Ah, perfect.” Jake hums from across the room, eyes focused on his laptop screen before glancing to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides you, knowing exactly which lighting accentuates his toned body the best when paired with his own little LED colored lights. 

You turn the knob slightly, wondering just how good he must be at dancing in houses like this one. 

“Little more.” He smiles

You dim the lighting more, looking at him and his relaxed posture. 

“Right there.” He finishes in a more gentle tone, eyes focusing back on his laptop as he prepares not only the playlist but the mood lighting from his end too. Red. Lots of red.

And you just watch, his voice ringing in your ears as you try to pretend that your best friend wasn’t right. Even with just this casual set up…he’s…goddamn, he’s alluring. In that ratty old sweater, with his messy hair and pretty smile. 

Stunning. 

This motherfucker is stunning. 

“Go and sit–” Jake says now, nodding to your couch as he places his laptop down, presumably done with the set up. “Just tell me where I can get myself ready and I’ll be back out shortly.” 

You point towards the guest bathroom as you take your seat on the couch, unsure as to why your hands feel so clammy. And by the time he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door shut, you attempt to make yourself comfortable. 

And goddammit, no matter how many times you’ve napped here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t find the comfort here right now. The curiosity of why you’re okay with this burns in your gut despite knowing exactly why. Despite the fact that your best friend can always see straight through you and know exactly what you are. 

At the end of the day though, why the curiosity exists isn’t what matters. It’s the curiosity itself. You want to know how much money Jake makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise himself in a way to only find women like you, and many other things. Countless things. He’s hot as hell, actually, and how he’s come to do this kind of work is either one of two things. One being that he’s using what the Gods gave him to the fullest. Two, being that he had no other choice. 

If he’s going to be paid to give you attention, the least you can hope is that he does it because he enjoys it, not because he has to do it. And if it does end up being because he has to do it, then perhaps his tip would be even larger than what you’d give for the ladder. 

You’re uncomfortable. 

The fact looming that you genuinely could go out and find a man at any given moment, yet here you are with a man forced upon you because you simply won’t do it. The implications of this man being here, why he’s here, how he ended up in this situation. 

You’ve never been one to care, so why start now? 

“You overthink too much.” Your best friend had said to you once, twice, hundreds of times during your friendship.  Maybe she’s right, maybe you should just enjoy the show without feeling entitled to a slutty man’s life story.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake remains in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, each of them passing like a nightmare in your head. Back and forth your brain goes, from not wanting to be in this situation to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very, very attractive man is primping himself for you to look at, he’s going to come out and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy something for once. Enjoy him. Gawk and fawn over him. After all, at least you know there’s no promise to be had after he leaves. 

No missed calls, no blocked numbers. This is business. 

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of your bathroom your mind has adjusted itself into the correct state of mind for this. A torturous adventure of thoughts, but you made it nonetheless. You actually can’t even look away from him now that he’s revealed himself, even when you tried. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks tacky or cheap. Hell, he doesn’t even look sexual. He just looks…

Expensive. 

Jake genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs. He smells like he belongs here, walks and murmurs like it too. 

You feel yourself physically react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found the attire sexy in any way until now. The suit looks much like what your team would wear day to day in the office. Always all those shy men coming into your office, stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jake isn’t stuttering in his suit though, he’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hasn’t even noticed you staring yet. 

One look from him though is all he needed. Choosing this attire for someone like you is sure to mix both business and pleasure. It was a gamble of course, to bring your work home for you, but he does have the slight hope that you’ll never look at a man in a suit the same way again after this. 

And goddamn the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. His blazer was partially open revealing nothing but skin when he walked into the room, and you honestly wonder if he even needed to do that. He could be fully clothed at this point and you think the room would still feel hotter than usual given your mind-state. 

The way his belt held his pants on his hips was enough to have you thinking, looking as if it’s begging to be unbuckled just so the sound of it could fill your ears. The way the blazer widens his shoulders much more than the sweater from before. He looks bigger right now, both physically and in aura. 

The scent of him wafted off of him in an even prettier way when paired with his image. He smells like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions. And under the assumption that the scent is why his abs are fucking glistening– fucking body oil. He uses body oil for this.

His hair rustles about when he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he’s playing accentuating each step towards you. So…the talking is done then? Your cheeks heat up at how quickly he starts his session with you, even without a single roll of his body. Already, you could eat him alive, the smirk on his face leading your eyes straight to him. 

Trailing down, down down. To his neck, that small glimpse of exposed chest, to the even more exposed lower abdomen section. His belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his hands on either side of your head as he grips the couch.

You can’t look up at him, eyes training on his chest that you can now fully see through his single buttoned blazer. That same sweet musk assaulting your lungs. 

Watching you from up here, Jake can tell you’re going to be fun to play with. A woman with such a harsh exterior now melting at the mere image of him when he’s got the right lights on him. To be fair, he really was warned and prepared by your friend, which didn’t seem the type to afford him on more than one occasion.

He thought it was nice that she paid for another session, shocking him to learn that it wasn’t for herself at all. What a wonderful friend, and what a bitch you’d be to have turned him away. 

Finally, you nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you genuinely did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look? Especially when the man is Jake, and he’s presenting himself like this.

“Rule number one.” Jake smiles, swaying in front of you as his grip tightens against the couch, wanting you to feel trapped and hopefully mesmerized by him, “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you toss a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.” 

That’s clearly not an issue you could fathom having, despite your internal protests. You only carry bigger bills anyway so you nod to him, quickly forgetting he even shared that ridiculous rule that would never apply to you by means of watching his hips swirl rather than sway. You see the heaviness in his pants, and you wonder if he gets himself hard for these little shows. 

You fear looking up at his face now too, because you know he’s staring down at you, watching your every breath, every move. 

“Rule number two,” He lends down now, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without being invited, or without asking.”

Now, that’s a rule that applies to you only because you immediately want to defy it. There’s a knee jerk reaction almost that makes you want to reach out, to grip his flexing body and pull it closer. You wanted to feel how slick his skin is with that wonderfully scented oil. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later, you wanted to feel how warm he must be. 

He doesn’t wait for your nod this time though, already noticing a familiar look on your face that he gets from most, if not all, of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand, after all. If he plays hard to get, sometimes he gets more out of his sessions. Sometimes he even gets a repeat client. 

“And rule number three–” He continues, this time pulling back and positioning his face in front of yours. This rule appears to be an important one, the rule where you need to look at his face rather than his body. As if it needs to be heard. “I won’t touch you unless you ask– or beg.” 

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t something he often speaks of. Sometimes, very rarely, Jake is in a mood when he goes out on a job. Condoms are always with him, just in case, but he never intends to use them or utter rule number three until meeting said client. They pay to look at him, not to touch him, however…if they pique his interest he surely offers the third rule. 

And if a client never hears of it, they know that even if they ask to touch, he would never. Even if they want him to touch, he wouldn’t touch anywhere too pleasurable. 

Meaning, you were right to assume what he was doing in your bathroom for so long. His hand felt better than usual against his length for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and you were to be a point of his own desire too. He played with himself for a bit, allowing himself to get half hard before coming out of the bathroom.

The way you looked at him finished the job, allowing his cock to grow to full attention at the mere sight of you fawning over him in silent discomfort. So– yeah, the third rule being for you was a given. 

And when you swallow around a lump in your throat and look dead into his eyes, he thinks you know exactly what he means too. You’re lucky his cock is acting up, hell, he’s lucky it’s acting up. Look at you, fuck. Those tired eyes look ignited, and what luck the two of you have to have ever known your best friend. 

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head cutely and waiting for you to nod. And you do nod, just as he suspected you would. Slowly, before glancing down at his body again. 

He knows now that it’s time to start moving. Really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, now pulling back and bracing himself against the back of your couch with all of his strength. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you’d like. 

“It’s fine.” You say, glancing away from his direct eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-struck puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy because of him.

Jake notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song, but he doesn’t push. He’s better at talking with his body anyway. So, he begins to focus. Opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. 

He steps back and away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a little more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, and he suspects you’re of the same mind. 

This entire playlist is chosen for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they so wish to. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through the body in a way that makes him shiver. He can move as if he’s fucking you even from across the room without so much as a touch, and he knows you’ll realize it.

He’s at his best too, when this sort of thing happens to him. The eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed for a reason other than payment, and arguably he feels he’s most attractive like this too. Considering the countless times he’s been paid to dance and expose himself to women he’d never even look at twice, it always hits differently when a client is just his type. 

And when he looks at you through the start of his dance, you appear to be painfully stiff against that soft couch. He smirks, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. If only you knew how lucky you are, knowing his clients would be on their knees for a chance to experience him like this. 

The fact that it’s your first time doing this…he’d be smart to not pull this shit on you. He’s never tried this with a new client, after all but–fuck, just look at you.

Jake’s hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. He easily dances along to the music for you, as if it’s second nature to him despite not yet removing any clothing. It’s the build-up for him now, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Of course, if he leaves your house tonight with a large tip in his pocket and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too, though not preferable. 

You watch him the same way he watches you, after all, the electricity for this to play out is there. It’s rare that he can feel goosebumps raise on his skin by a mere look from a woman that looks far too powerful despite sitting there helpless. He’s making you helpless, the dim lighting of this room accentuating his body is making you helpless. 

And truly, you find yourself understanding with each shadow on his stomach as to why he’s so favored in the groups of lonely women. Arguably, you’re shocked your best friend decided to share him.

As the song begins to fade, Jake readjusts himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It feels intimate with the way his eyes slowly scan your body in the quiet room. As if the silence doesn’t need to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Typically, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. They’re muttering, moaning, or shouting for him to hurry up, that the clock is ticking and they want to see more. But not you. Even as the next song plays, your eyes stay focused on his until he looks away and starts closing the distance. He skews his body now, allowing you to see him in profile. 

In some ways, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has with you, even as he drops to his knees during a particular part in the song, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him. 

He glances to his side, and still you’re searching his face.

He, now, looks back down for a moment, finding himself trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking. Thankfully, your eyes do follow his, and you gasp at the way he moves. 

Your mouth falls open, gripping the hem of your dress as you imagine exactly what he intended.

The fact that this is your first time, Jake realizes this is new ground for him too. Typically, he speaks with his body and it appears now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. Like the roles are switched, he has to do to you what you’re supposed to be doing to him.

This is new, but warranted. Easy, even, for him to do it because he does want you.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re barely watching him fuck the air in front of him. Yeah, you see that too, but your eyes always go back to his and now, his own gaze is meeting yours. His gaze is searching your body, watching you move in reaction. From the way your fingers grip at the clothes he’d like to see on the floor later, to the way you slightly rub your legs together in a way that is almost too easy to miss. This alone is enough for him as his eyes burn their gaze into you. Much like you’re supposed to be doing to him.

He’s supposed to be able to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking. So be it, the least he can do is let you know what he’s thinking. 

Jake’s dance is more intentional now when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his head turned towards you. He tries to show you specifically what he would do to you. That bulge in his pants is large and blatant as he thrusts forward and back to the music. You glance to it, offering the same jittery reactions of arousal. 

And this is when he allows his blazer to slide off of his shoulders, reaching to unbutton that single clasp for it to go sliding to the floor. He continues his movements through it, watching your eyes move to his arms and the strength used to hold himself up, his skin more and more visible to you. You do try to keep eye contact but…well, the way his abs flex when he presses forward, going concave with each inhale of those sensual lips that constantly smirk at you. 

It’s a shame, really, to know that the bulge in his pants will remain there, unseen. 

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he regains his focus. He wants you so badly by this point that it’s driving him crazy how hard he’s having to work for it. You’re supposed to be feeling this way, not him. Even if he can see that his routine is causing a reaction from you, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him. 

Meaning, he needs to work harder. The current song is soon to be replaced with another, his favorite to dance to, his favorite to fuck to. And to be fair, by the time this playlist gets to this song on this specific playlist, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back and he can fucking see it.

He ignores the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next set of dancing, mostly because he almost never has to get to this part, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eyes. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to amplify the way he’s looking at you, confidence so high that he’s fine with being seen in any way you want.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch the way his shoulders move in the light, his eyes rounded and cheeky, his hair falling in front of them with a charming movement. It’s not intentional when you rub your legs together at the image yet again, very much wanting to spread them the closer he gets to you. 

You can’t help but think he looks smaller on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You do wonder if your face reads the same for him, with the nervousness hitting you off and on. 

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” Jake mutters out of nowhere under the veil of his music, stopping in place in front of you, planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you, is that okay?”

Nevermind the fact that Jake has never actually had to ask to touch a client before, he really can’t help it at this point. His cock is aching in his pants and he isn’t quite ready to wait an entire playlist worth of songs just to put his clothes back on and leave the door with pain between his legs. He very much wants to fuck something right now, preferably someone.

You.

On the other hand, he’s pleased to see how fucking fast you accept his request. Yes, he can touch you. Fuck, you want him to touch you.

And the whole idea that this is just him doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to entertain. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck. You can pretend that he only does this for you, you can live in a fantasy just for a night. 

Jake lends you a smile as the current song finally fades out, the silence back except this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod. 

He’s slow when he places his hand on your knees, rubbing up, up, up until he’s able to lift himself and hover over you. He intentionally pushes your dress up your thighs, solely because he wanted to see you rub them together in full, shameless view for him. He wants to know what his body does for you. What it does to you. 

And he stands, hovering over you for a moment with his hands glued to your thighs before he stares down at them. You just do as he expected, you rub your legs together, you look anywhere but at his eyes now, your hands grip the couch beneath you.

“I’m going to get on top of you,” Jake says now, dipping his head into your line of sight and forcing eye contact again, now gripping the back of the couch rather than your thighs, Just as he did when all of this started. “Would you like that?”

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You suddenly ask with a smaller voice than you gave him upon opening your door. You breathe in sharply when he moves instead of answering your question immediately. 

He spreads his legs, propping himself right on your lap, facing towards you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest radiating near your face. 

“What kind of answer are you looking for?” He laughs fondly, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. “You should touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule with that one, not wanting to wait any longer for you to maybe ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling the warmth pool and drip into your panties. “It’s a yes or no question.”

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there. 

“No,” he admits, moving his focus to the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all  of my clients.” 

Jake isn’t sure why he does it, but now he can’t bring himself to look at you. The eye contact feels more intimate than it should with you asking him such a question and demanding an answer. Even as he swirls his hips, feeling his clothed cock rub up and against you every few seconds, it feels almost too intimate. 

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward. 

“You know,” He mutters, guiding your hands a bit lower despite his own confusion at how much he’s enjoying this moment with you. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm and you think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the warmth of his cock under his pants..  

Your pulse quickens as your ears start to ring. Your eyes avoid where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and looking up at him with question. He’s not looking back though, instead, his head is dropped and he’s staring at his pathetic bulge against your hand. He’s dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough.”

You feel shocked at that. A client that doesn’t want him? Is he fucking insane?! Then again, you need to be honest with yourself sometimes. You’ve tried to appear as uninterested as possible until he started crawling to you. There is clear attraction, obvious needs swirling in the air right now. You force yourself now to look at your hand with the hefty bulge rubbing desperately against it. The sheer size of him is something entirely different from what you were expecting out of him. This feels forbidden.

Wrong, even, But goddamn. The man is masquerading his dance solely so he can fuck against your right now. Maybe you should show some interest. 

“You’re doing well, Jake,” You finally mutter to him, the first compliment you’ve given since he got here. 

“Yeah?’ He sighs out, relieved as his hips press harder into your palm. Arguably, he’s not even dancing at this point, just trying to get off. “How well?”

Yeah, he’s a little desperate at this point for you to do something on your own. It’s so out of character for him to do all of this just to…well, get off.

“Show me,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, the buckle is right there–” he nearly pleads. “You don’t have to be shy.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his belt and now, sliding your hands up his body to meet his. 

“There you go,” He stresses through another relieved sigh. Leaving your hands where they are against his chest and sliding the belt from his loops on his own. He tosses the belt behind him, relishing in that lost look in your eye.

You clearly have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you seem to like it. And god, does he fucking love it. Especially when he motions his head back down, forcing your hands back to where they belong and helping you unbutton his pants. 

“Take it out, go on.” He says in a rush, “I’m asking you to do it.”

To be fair, you’re going to do it despite the nervousness in your gut. It’s been so long since you’ve touched a man, and even longer since you wanted to. You could half argue that you feel like you’re about to lose your virginity right now despite all those hook-ups in college. Still, you don’t even nod at him when you do it. Carefully tugging his pants down and watching the weight of his cock do the rest of the work for you. 

His legs spread wider as he points it up at you, a lewd scene, one that feels both disgustingly sexy and very, very, straight forward. You’ve never been like this with any other person. Or rather, no one has ever blatantly shown themselves like this to you. 

And still, Jake just looks at you. So much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel the air in your apartment against the head of his cock, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver with a very quiet moan. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs. Then he sees a new look in your eyes.

Are you…waiting to be told what to do? 

For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone been seduced by one. Honestly though, he assumed you’d catch on by the point his cock was out. This isn’t for show anymore, he wants you. 

“Touch me?” He asks gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t even have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence as he feels you grasp him in your fist.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, this one not at all being one of them. You’re hesitant but willing, perhaps? You leave him questioning himself and his own motives, still wondering if that compliment you gave him was genuine or just part of your own little show. 

Yet still, you’re gripping him tightly and allow him to focus his hopes. Dancing beautifully into that little circle your hand creates for him. The best part is that when or if he ever actually dances to this song, it’s when he’s blatantly fucking someone. So the movements come naturally, just as they would if your legs were buckling and your pussy was spread open on him. So, basically, this dance is nothing short of fucking your fist, pretending to keep up an act that he so wishes you’d see through. 

He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him to turn the tables and position you to where your legs are on his shoulders and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, soaked panties.  

It’s a struggle though, to not moan out in desperation when you tighten your grip on him. He watches your pupils blow out, and can see the way you’d now probably ask him to do just that. To put it on you, to shove it in you. And so, he slows his hips a bit and catches his breath, staring down at you in wait. 

“You’re really expecting me to get off all on my own?” He finally says in an exasperated breath to your stillness and silence. He really is, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “Baby, don’t you want it?” He adds, now waiting to see if you’ll move your hand away from him.

You don’t though, to his surprise, you actually start moving your hand on him. You’re jerking him off, staring up at him like you want it, squeezing the head of his cock before dragging those pretty fingers back down. 

Instantly his eyes roll back. “Fuck, that’s good,” He compliments your hand, shaking a bit and shivering at the fact that you really just did that. “Can I stop pretending that I’m still dancing for you now?”  

You find it in yourself to chuckle now, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you fairly quickly, actually, as you watched him chase his pleasure all by himself. He’s so hard, and so incredibly thick in your hand, you’d be stupid to say it didn’t turn you on. It’s that fact that you’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging you to look at him, to watch him, to touch him. All of your nervousness slowly disappeared because it was being replaced with power. 

Now, that, you’re used to. You know what power feels like in all aspects of the working world, but never at home. Never when sex is involved. You’re always expected to play the part of a desperate woman in need of love, and that’s just not you. No, you’re a powerful woman with nerves that could kill you. And the way Jake parallels your working world, it’s almost too perfect. You’re used to men being beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. 

Jake isn’t exactly begging you for money, but he’s still begging for your hands. 

“No.” You finally say, relishing in the shock on Jake’s face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

His eyes fall a bit now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time at your response, but you move your hand a bit faster. You grip a bit tighter, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told now, considering you’re the one with the money to bring him back here. 

It’s endearing how he does his best, and honestly, his best probably far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market if you had any idea of how they were. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act for him when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way. 

“You’re–” He pauses to hold in a moan, feeling the way you drag your hand in time with his dance. “You’re not going to ask me to touch you?” He finally adds, meeker than before, far less confidence. 

In fact, he’s hiding his face.

You smile in response, looking up at him with dark and wide pupils as you swallow each movement his body makes for you. Your ears are still ringing, unable to comprehend the music blasting in your sound system. Your focus is solely on him, your hands are on him, your confidence is because of him. 

The answer to that question should be a given, after all, shouldn’t he be well aware considering this little stunt he pulled that actions truly speak louder than words?

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start, now loosening your grip on him just to see the way his hips frantically chase the warmth of your palm.

“Wait–” He asks slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and bashful. “You really thought, I let her get me off like this?” 

It almost pisses him off that you’d say that to him, then again, it’s not like you knew that this specific instance is rare and reserved for very few clients. 

“You couldn’t even look at me properly thirty minutes ago, now you think you can make assumptions?” He argues, pushing away from you.

Your response is skewing an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles off of you and onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect, twitching at the sudden lack of friction. 

“Is it wrong to assume when you very clearly want me to make you cum?” 

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing at you as he leans over you. 

“Are you suggesting that you’ll get me off?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness drip through your panties now. 

“She did tell me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “I also know that she was no such client.”

A small moment of silence as he devours you with his eyes, seemingly interested in the attitude you have towards him now.

“I also didn’t imagine your clients would be the ones getting you off.” 

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your cunt in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please. 

“Normally they’d be jumping at the chance, you though–” Jake very nearly growls at you with a deepened voice. “You look like you’re the one who needs to get off, if anything to get that snarky grin off your face.”

“Go on then, dance.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along. 

He raises a brow at you as he steps back once more, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jake does as he’s told, finally kicking his pants off in full and keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress as you continue to spread your legs more and more, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with each breath he forces out of you, and the way your nipples perk through the fabric.

So, he stays here behind you with his hips pressed to the back of your couch, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers somehow reaching your skin. 

  And he continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again, mostly because he’s already been given permission to touch you there. 

“More,” He gently demands between lyrics. “Spread them all the way.”

Jake watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs stretch open, your dress hiking up past your waist, enough now that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy. 

“Ask me to touch you.” He pleads against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “Just tell me you want it.” 

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. 

You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. 

Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this. 

“No.” You playfully respond, dangling yourself just out of reach. You breathe in deep though, knowing you can’t keep denying him for much longer with the way his hands are rubbing at you. “I like it better when you’re the one asking for it.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you. 

Oh. 

“Cute.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you at this point. It’s just…new to him.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that doesn’t involve your panty line. 

“May I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?” 

You could mistake this distance as something that should not be crossed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want to do is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him. 

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him. 

He breathes in, seemingly frustrated.

“My fingers. Take them.” He says rather than asking this time, already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping–baby,” He stops to moan at it, amazed by how fucking soaked you are. “I can imagine they’d slide right in.” 

Typically, you wouldn’t allow anyone to call you that. “Baby.” but coming from his mouth, it sounds fitting. It sounds seductive, sexy. It has your stomach in knots, actually, your hips bouncing up just slightly at his words with the pet name attached. Finally, you let him. Finally, you grind yourself against his fingers. 

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He groans at your movements, loving how desperate you suddenly appear despite pretending you weren’t going to work for your own pleasure. He continues to trace his fingers up and down just to feel the mess of you, the one that he created, and the one that he intends to make messier. 

“Moving your hips isn’t the answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it. 

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him. “I’ll take them.”

That breathy laugh he releases sounds sweet, almost dripping like syrup when he lays his head beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he listens to you now more than the music, his fingers continuously ghosting where he promised to put them, not yet moving your panties. 

Paired with it, his abdomen stays tense as he humps against your couch, his muscles locking up at the pleasure running through him in this position. Your hips lightly chase his fingers, up when his fingers move down, and he can’t help the shy smile that spreads across his lips. It’s one you don’t see, but the constant shift in your personality is something that keeps him on edge. Keeps him wanting more, to know more, to see and feel more of you. 

And when he finally reaches around you with his other hand, pulling your panties to the side and exposing your pussy, he watches you take over for him and push them down instead, offering far more than he anticipated. He watches as you kick them off your ankles almost elegantly, as if you could do this job of dancing better than he can.

“Eager?” He teases, knowing you won’t respond to that. And you don’t. It pleases him to know that at least by now, he can kind of read you. Yet, still, there’s nothing more at this moment that would please him more than getting to see you in full. To wander back around this couch and get a real good, close up look at what he’s doing to you. 

“You’re so wet right now.” He groans, knowing that you were soaked before and only hoping you’re dripping more and more for him now. His cock is weeping as much as he’d like for you to be, chasing any amount of friction he could have. And he can see his fingers slip and slide through your slick into places he wasn’t even attempting to touch just yet solely because of how wet you are. 

“You held out for so long,” He coos now with a soft breath against your neck, feeling your cheek nuzzle against his flexing arm. “Look at that,” Two of his fingers tease at your hole before– “they slipped right in.”

Your breathing is labored by this point, feeling him play with you as if he has all the time in the world to fuck with your head. Which is…nice. No rushing despite the time limit on his session, proving time and time again that you’re getting more than others get from him. Lucky you, that you can moan out without shame for him. 

And you do, grabbing his hand and practically fucking yourself with his fingers. That takes him by surprise as the warmth and sheer tightness envelopes his digits. You are excruciatingly sexy to him, he doesn’t even attempt to stop you.

In fact, he doesn’t even hold back now, meeting each chase of your hips with the force of his fingers plunging into you deeply, with full intention. He scissors them open, feeling your hole stretch around them beautifully enough to fit in a third. And god, you’re so fucking wet. He can hear the slapping of his soaked fingers inside of you pushing more and more of that arousal out. 

He moans blatantly against your ear now, easing you into talking back to you. 

“Bet you could take cock so well–” He murmurs, feeling you shiver against his grasp. “How long has it been? Hm?”

He’s talking to you, yes, but hyping himself up at the same time. The scent of your hair forcing a slight obsession with you in his mind. The way you feel, look, smell, move when you’re just inches from him like this. He knows you won’t respond to a goddamn thing he says too, but it doesn’t matter too much to him at this point. Because now, you’re whimpering.

Such a confident, well respected woman…fucking whimpering.

“What was that?” He asks playfully, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Has it been that long?”

And for the first time, you were going to answer. For the first time, he doesn’t leave room for you to answer. Instead, you feel his palm resting flush against your neck, now pressing in and practically holding you down by the neck as he fucks his fingers into you faster. 

Painfully faster.

“Cry for me again,” He encourages you, wincing as his own hips frantically chase the back of your couch. “You’re allowed, come on, do it again.”

And because he’s working for it, because he’s doing so fucking well, you let out another choked moan. His hand straining your neck so tightly that any sound coming out sounds strained and desperate, even the sound of yourself right now ignites a fire inside of you. You can feel that grasp tighten each time his fingers fuck into you with a painful jab, his palm placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed each time he pulls his hand back.

It’s…overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck- again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder, all so he can look down at you. He’s heard you, now he wants to fucking see how desperate you are when you cry out. 

When you open your eyes again, wincing every few seconds at both the pleasure and pain of his desperate hands, all you can see is his face. All you can feel are those same long fingers threatening more and more cries from your chest. He’s hitting spots inside of you that haven't been touched in a long time. Feeling it now almost burns, even with the cold metal of that single ring on his finger against your neck. 

And when he tightens that hand on your neck once more, not only do you cry out, but he matches you with his own stuttered gasp. You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment, watching the way his teeth appear to scrape at his bottom lip when the sound of you envelopes his ears. So, you do it again, and again, and again. 

His fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palms still hitting your clit, and that other hand around your throat…honestly? You could fucking sing songs to him at this moment if he so wished it. 

“You’re shaking.” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile looks so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand harder against your throat. Nevermind the fact that you never discussed this type of thing with him, fucking wasn’t even in the agenda. But now? Fuck it. You do like it. Maybe you even love it. The way you’re moaning for him is all either of you need to know. 

This time though, when you moan out and it’s sounding particularly raspy, he releases his hand from your throat and instantly leans down to your lips. He’s a bit shocked that you immediately strain your neck to kiss him. What he was going to do was degrade you. Now though, he’s just tasting the way you’re so desperate to kiss him. As if you’re wanting this to be real, to be intimate. 

Arguably, your idea was better than his own because now he can’t bring himself to degrade you. In fact, he was stupid to even consider such a fucking thing. Despite never kissing his clients, things with you have already lasted far longer than he’d normally allow. Things have already surpassed the intimacy level he allows too, even with the very few lucky women who get to touch him. He’s never asked for it, and he’s never gotten this much of his own pleasure out of finger fucking them. Not once has he ever fucked himself against a couch to hold himself back for a woman either. 

Maybe just this once, he can want it to be real too. Even if he leaves with a pocket full of cash, the fantasy right now is enough for him to accept it as is. If you want him to kiss you, he will fucking kiss you.

His pupils grow as his eyes close, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. Even his body against your couch relaxes and his hips slow to that of a sensual thrust forward, one that offers a long and painful drag against his already raw and reddened cock. You kiss him back better than he’s even been kissed before, and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. 

His brain nearly short circuits at the softness of it, allowing his hands to move on their own accord, cupping your jaw with one hand and emptying your pussy to rub your clit with the other. He’s intentionally deepening the kiss far past his own comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it. 

“You can take it–” Jake mutters between kisses, more focused on your lips than the words he spilling to you. “You want more, right?” He continues, only now pulling back in a breath and waiting for you to adjust your eyes on his. 

Immediately, when you open your eyes they widen at him. Goddamn, was he this sexy before? Did he even look this into you when he was on your lap fucking your fist? Out of all of his begging, this…this right here. Are you really about to fuck a stripper? The man you were so against meeting just this morning? The man who has $600 in his bank account from your lovely, fucking adored and beautiful best friend? 

The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs up and moves on as if this never happened?

Yes.

“I want more–” You say to him, blinking at his pretty eyes and intentionally rubbing your clit against his fingers, mostly because it appears as if he’s stopped functioning all together.

And before you can even blink, his fingers are pulled away and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still erect and heavy against his thigh as he goes directly to his bag. As if he knew it was going to happen, as if this was his plan before he even met you, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

After all, he does have to take precautions to be fucking an absolute stranger like this.

“Oh.” You huff in disappointment, not entirely meaning for him to hear it. 

He raises his eyes to you as he pulls at the end of the condom, offering plenty of space for whatever release he intends to have soon, but his eyes don’t seem concerned nor bothered. 

“What? You want it raw?” He asks playfully, wiggling his eyebrows briefly before making his way back to you. “That’ll require a bit more discussion, you know.”

Discussion that neither of you are willing to have solely because your pussy is throbbing and his cock appears to be more pathetic than it already was being strangled in that thin layer of latex. And without another word, allowing both of you to put that to rest for now, he’s right back over you, lifting your dress up and off of you. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out as your tits falls from their perfect place within the dress. The sopping wet couch beneath you only soaking up more of your slick as his words force more out of you. God, you feel so wanted. 

You keep your arms lifted to help him ease the dress entirely off of you, leaving you bare beneath him as he instantly goes to grab both tits, pressing them together before flicking both nipples with the tips of his fingers. 

Your body jolts at the sensation, feeling it run through you and swell your clit more than it already was. The ache is worse, your hole is pulsing, yearning, wanting to be filled. Still though, he takes his precious expensive time, leaning down and sucking one erect nub into his mouth and flicking it all the same with his tongue. 

“Right here?” He mouths from around your tit, eyes closed and tongue still focused elsewhere. “You want to be fucked here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question will likely go unanswered. It’s very likely that he is going to fuck you right here, on your living room couch. Asking you such a thing was stupid, borderline cringe-worthy. 

To his surprise though, you lend him a small “no.” as you lace your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips to your other nipple just to feel the warmth of his tongue.

“No?” He questions, blinking up at you from your chest before biting gently around the sensitive bud against his mouth. “Where then?” 

To his dismay, your smile is still beautiful but the way you close your legs and sit yourself up from the slouched, relaxed position you were in disappoints him. Mostly because he’s now forced to stand up too, and even more so because he has to keep his head dipped in order to keep his mouth on that perfect nipple of yours. 

His disappointment fades as you hold his head there, feeling your legs almost buckle against him when he moans around it, sending vibrations through your chest. You remain gentle though, wobbling on your legs and shuffling forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze your sensitive nub do you realize that he’s so, so much needier than you expected. Even with his begging, his little disappointed sound didn’t go unnoticed. His brows are still furrowed now, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him down so that you can be the one straddling him. It’s cute, actually. Noticing how he was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it…only to now look at him and the way he’s melting.

The way he’s needy, borderline puppy-like to be near you.

His eyebrows shoot up from that little face of disappointment though, when you pull yourself from his mouth and instead plant yourself right on his lap, letting your pussy lips envelope the underside of his cock as you grind up immediately.

It’s the first slippery touch his cock has felt all night and honestly? He’s been on edge this entire time. You grind so fucking beautifully, and it’s a first for him to realize that he’s entirely speechless.

You’ve rendered him incapable of speaking. 

“You’re cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist, “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at your compliments, instead he just melts into it even more. His cheeks are permanently blushed as he leans forward to try and get your tits in his face again, and all you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping your clit, and you’d never forgive yourself for not letting yourself have this kind of fun more often. 

And Jake just gets whinier. His cock pulses and twitches to be inside of you all the while despite the discomfort of that latex layer likely needing to be replaced already. Still, his hands keep moving your waist, pushing and pulling you faster against him until– ah.

You angle yourself perfectly when he slides your upwards again. All you had to do was perk your ass out and wait for him to push you back down. Finally, he slides in without fully realizing that’s what was going to happen, and goddamn the sound he makes, fuck.

“Mmfuck,” He winces, digging his nails into your hips at the speed of which he bottomed out. The breath is knocked out of him and all you can do is stare down. Look at him now, so docile and sweet like he wasn’t fucking your livingroom floor prior to this. 

And the grip of you on him, so strong. The slide was so easy, so fast, that he genuinely is seeing stars at how good you feel wrapped around him. The velvet walls inside of you pulsing, pushing and squeezing his cock all over. He can’t help the sounds he makes, grunting and feeling that grip you have in his hair intensify his pleasure. 

Both of you now let out a long winded breathy groan at the sensation of your body adjusting to his, in all fairness, you had to grip onto something and his hair just so happened to be the best thing at the moment. He seems to love it though, so when you finally regain your senses of being absolutely fucking full, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows. 

“Bounce.” He croaks out at you, eyes glistening with pure fucking hope that you will. 

And, well…when you feel his length pulse in place inside of you, you do exactly as he asked. You bounce, taking his full, thick cock each and every time. Not allowing a single inch of it to be neglected. All he can do in response is squint, trying to keep his eyes open through each breathy groan of praise and encouragement. He does lose himself entirely to the feeling of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you keep his head tilted back. 

He really didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned…if he moves right now he’s going to cum. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he just lazily smiles at you and lets his eyes finally close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, yet incredibly turned on by the way you’ve just completely lost him, you bounce harder, then you sit flush against him, twisting and swirling your hips. Grinding forward back, counting how he moans each time you do something that feels particularly sensitive for him. And you hang onto that, repeating those actions, lifting your ass and sliding back down. Again and again, until your legs shake and your fingers threaten to pull his hair too hard.

“Look at you now,” You half-chuckle out of breath, hearing the wet slaps of skin on skin paired with his blatant and sensual moans drowning out the playlist that has been long forgotten. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head, that same lazy and cocky smile appears as if to insinuate that you’re damn fucking right he can’t. Like he’s proud of it. And you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist either, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he could draw blood if you move the wrong way.

“Keep going, baby–” He somehow manages to say to you. “Don’t stop.”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, and now he’s finally begging you to fuck him. His voice still sounds like honey, with that impressively hard cock inside of you pulsing so constantly that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. 

“Mhm,” You answer him, promising that you won’t stop through just a half-moan and a long winded intake of air. Honestly? At this very moment, you feel like you’re sitting on a throne. Jake, obviously, being said throne but whatever. The fucking power he’s making you feel is nothing short of alluring. 

And now, as that power goes to your head, you opt to grind rather than bounce for him now. Your hips aren’t as erratic, yet still he tenses up for you, forcing his cock to somehow feel even harder as you fuck it into yourself through lazy drags of your clit against his pelvis. 

If you keep going like this, you could cum in an instant. But before you can even finish that thought, you look down at him on instinct due to his sudden silence. 

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. You can see that he’s not breathing, seemingly holding his breath even after you release his hair. His head lolls back with that same expression, and that’s when you feel his fingernails dig.

“Oh,” You moan, now resuming your grinding much harder now, making a point to bump your clit repeatedly against him. “Fuck, are you cumming right now?”

Still he doesn’t respond, you can only feel his hips stutter under you despite trying to remain entirely still and stiff for you. You know that now is when you need to be chasing, because you’ll be damned if you’re not going to cum with him inside of you. 

You want to be full like this, you want to squeeze him, to play with his sensitive cock even if it starts to soften. He’s too pretty, too fucking pretty when he whimpers. And so, you continue grinding, up until you’re on the brink of your orgasm but not quite there yet. To the point his cock is only half in you with the way you’re angling your clit against him, chasing your own high so aggressively that you barely feel his fingers tightening on you again. 

Jake shoots his head back up, eyes opening as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t relent. The pain is intense from how hard you’re riding him, but he can see how close you are, the image alone compliments that sensitivity he’s feeling right now. 

He seethes out painful praises to you as your desperate cunt finally reaches orgasm, squeezing against his softening length so tightly that he can’t help but whimper with you. Still, he studies your face through his own winces, shuddering at the way you close your legs around him despite them being forced to stay open in this position. You try to curl into the pleasure, as if you wish you could disappear completely alongside it. 

And god, the way you grip at his arms for leverage as you shake through it. Dare he say…he’s fond of you. It still hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. Mostly because it feels like he’s been in this room with you for days, knowing that’s not true. Surely he’s stayed longer than your allotted time with him, but you seemed to have given him something worth staying for at least.

When you slump over him, he almost wants to cry from how fucking sensitive he is right now. Thankfully, you seem sensitive too as you wince before he does, remaining as gentle as you can when you reach down to the base of his cock and hold the condom, allowing him to slide out of you at his own pace. 

And then, the playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jake to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame. Now, all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven compared to any of his sessions with prior clients like this. He’s breathing much too fondly for you, or rather, not breathing well because of you. He can’t just…go home can he?

“You okay?” You ask to the slight panicked look on his face, seeing how he stares straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, no readable expression. “Jake?”

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving and blinking to look at you.

“That–” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does. “Um…”

The change in atmosphere almost freaks you out. Isn’t this what he wanted? You saw the way he lost himself there briefly though, you can admit. None of this was even that rough or kinky, so you’re a bit confused as to why he’s acting like this.

Maybe you even feel a bit guilty. Like you’re the problem. So, you silence yourself and lift onto weak legs to stumble and find your dress. You throw it on quickly, hiding your shame that he so wanted to see just fifteen minutes ago. Then, you head for your purse and grab every single bill you have folded neatly inside. 

Just like that, you place the money in his shaking hand and can’t bare to look at him.

“Wha-” He starts, licking his dried lips and sitting up a bit too quickly. “Why are you giving me so much?”

“It’s your tip.” You try to say casually as you clear your throat. “You can shower too, if you’d like.” 

Jake holds his breath, hoping you don’t genuinely think he did all of that for the money. He was already paid to be here, the whole…you know, fucking thing, was his doing. What happened was because he wanted it, and…he still does. Are you truly just strictly back to business like this? You literally just handed him his rent for the month and then some, it kind of amazes him. The audacity. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women. You aren’t a woman who needs him, and yet you pay like you did. 

“Shower with me?” He forces himself to ask, because he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. After all, this tip feels like a rejection of what just happened. Hush money, even. 

He doesn’t know what just crept into this room through the fucking silence, but he doesn’t like it. And it seems you don’t either, because you instantly comfort him with a smile and a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He didn’t intend to spend the night, free of charge no less, but he did. All of that including some embarrassing talk involving the seriousness of how this is not normal for him. 

Surprisingly, you believe him. 

After the shower, the mood had shifted into something that felt natural and less rehearsed. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over with a downpayment of $600, he was Jake, a man trying to make ends meet in a city far too expensive even for you if you’re being honest. 

Jake, a man wanted by several women. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely and stone-cold heart with him, however much that may cost. Not to fall in love, or to fill any type of voice. If anything, you want to be taken care of in specific ways, and you’d like to take care of him in turn. 

So, when he grimaced at your joke, saying that he would practically be your sugar baby and that you’d run off all of his other business out of need to continuously be fucked by him and him alone, you almost stopped pressing the matter.

Because you would run off all his clients solely for keeping him too busy with you to go to them. You would be paying him every time, making damn sure he’s well taken care of and financially stable. 

Jake did notice how you looked disappointed, quickly backtracking his grimace.

“Wait, you’re serious?” 

You nod shyly, blinking at him.

“It’s not like we have to sleep together every time, you won’t even have to dance for me anymore.” You argue, knowing that’s at least a half-lie. “All I ask is that you don’t fuck your other clients if you’re still seeing me, and intending to..you know–”

Jake nods happily, without question even.

“So, what happens if I’m horny and you’re not available then?”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Jerk off like a normal person?”

Fair enough.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

man, i forgot how lame this fic is but yknow what? good for me. jake is so fuckin’ fine fr I DON’T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEEEE. pls reblog and leave feedback on my work :D

[cherrygirlfriend]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ pilates princess

pairing: sunshine!reader x bf!rafe synopsis: rafe catches reader working out tags / warnings: fluff, smut (no actual sex but graphic descriptions of fantasies) wc: 900 a/n; this is for the pilates princesses (also originally this fic wasn't in the sunshineverse but it is now... mwahahahaha) originally posted 10/12/2024

rafe was knocking on your door impatiently, wanting to see you more than anything after the day he had, finding out that the development he had been busting his ass for for months had been delayed, but you weren't answering the door or even his texts telling you to open the door; that didn't stop him, the man knowing where your parents kept the spare key, getting it out of a pot of asterias, opening the door. you'd told him he could only use it 'only in case of emergencies', but to him, this constituted as an emergency.

rafe didn't bother to put the key back as he walked further into the house, hearing the noise of the television coming from your living room. he made his way to the living room, his eyes widening slightly when he saw exactly what had you so busy.

you were splayed on the floor, a pink workout mat underneath you, watching some workout video on your tv while your headphones were on, wearing a pair of pink fitness shorts that made your ass look so good he was almost drooling, along with a white sports bra, turned away from him, one of your hands splayed on the ground while the other one was bent on your head, one of your knees on the mat while your other was reaching up.

"jesus christ." he mumbled as he stared at you, the curve of your ass in those pink shorts causing his dick to stir in his shorts.

only a few seconds later, you moved to sit down on the mat, only to be startled by your boyfriend shamelessly ogling you, letting out a small gasp as you basically fell on your ass on the mat, your eyes widening.

you took off your headphones, throwing them onto the couch behind you, and even though your face was already warm and flushed, it seemed to get worse when you noticed him staring at you. "rafe!" you exclaimed as you stood up, his eyes now locked onto your hardened nipples under the sports bra, your tits almost pressed together, a sheen of sweat running down your cleavage.

"jesus fucking christ." he said, licking his lips slightly as you took your pink zip-up jacket and put it on, yet the way it clung to your body and the small sliver of your sports bra did almost nothing to hide how delicious you looked. "no, no, baby, don't stop on my accord." rafe grinned, his hands on your waist, aware that he was sporting a pretty obvious hard-on as he pulled you closer.

"i don't want you to see me all gross and sweaty." you pouted, and the way you sucked your lip in made nothing to calm down the obvious tent in his shorts.

"you look so fucking sexy right now." he said, pulling you closer to him, and you could feel his hard-on press against your abdomen, the blonde letting out a small groan from only that contact. "literally, i've never... jesus."

"i'm not sexy right now." you roll your eyes, pushing away a stray hair that had stuck to your cheek, trying to look down in embarrassment.

"you're kidding, right?" rafe snorted, his hand going lower and lower, almost going to the curve to your ass. "i think you can feel how sexy you look, huh?" he took hold of your chin with his fingers, and lifted it up, making you look up at him. "if you didn't want to wait longer, do you know the things i'd do to you?"

"w-what?" you asked in a way that was almost a whisper, biting your lower lip as you looked at him through your lashes.

"fuck, i'd just rip that cute little set off and take you right here on the couch. i'd make you ride me, give you a workout that's much better than this crap you're doing, your tits bouncing in my face, my hands gripping those pretty thighs... shit, i might cum just thinking about it."

you softly smacked him in the chest, feeling a warmth in your abdomen only he managed to cause, sure that you'd never blushed so hard in your life. "raafee..."

he brings your face up to his, bringing your lips to his as he bent down slightly, the kiss much more heated than any other kiss that you'd shared, his hand now on the curve of your ass, squeezing it in a way that made you gasp against his lips, his other hand now in your hair.

after a moment, you pulled away breathlessly, his erection had somehow gotten even worse than before, your lips swollen and a doe-eyed look in your eyes. "we should... uh, we should stop, since, you know..."

"yeah, i know baby." he rolled his eyes exasperatedly, before chuckling softly. "god, i'm not gonna forget this little outfit in a while. lemme take a pic of it?"

"noo, i look gross!"

"don't talk about my girl like that." he tsked, taking hold of your jaw. "come on, i need something to get myself off to later."

"alright, fine." you scoffed and rolled your eyes, before letting out a small chuckle as you started unzipping your jacket.

[luveline]

shy!reader and spencer who are in the early days of their relationship and are getting more comfortable with initiating physical affection with each other (especially reader lol) and spencer gets her to open up by playing with her hair / hands, tickling her, cuddling, the like <3

The first time Spencer let his head rest against yours, you were sure you’d die right there and then, half-asleep on the subway, then suddenly away as he’d started talking under his breath, his conversation for you and you alone. You'd flushed full body and forced yourself to stay still, until Spencer had confused your shyness for not wanting his weight against you and pulled away. 

This time you’re ready. This time, he’s working his arm over the top of your shoulders. Not a timid first move on the first date, he’d suffered through that already. Spencer lets his arm slip between your back and the couch as he tugs you toward him, resting his cheek against your temple, two points of skin turning hot as a burner. 

“Okay?” he asks quietly. 

You let yourself relax into it. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you want me to run that bath for you?” 

It’s imperative he doesn’t move. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it later, if that’s okay.” 

It’s Spencer’s bath, but he let you take one the last time you stayed the night, so you’ll work it out. You knew he wasn’t gonna peep on you, knew you were totally safe in his bathroom, but your heart hammered fast as a hummingbird’s whenever the floors creaked —just the idea of being near him when you were unclothed set you aflame. Your skin warms with the memory, a nervousness in your chest and hands that grows uncomfortably warm. 

You don’t move, though. You’re sending him all the wrong messages when you reject him out of timidity, you’re more than aware of it, but the longer he sits there gently holding you, the more the temptation to squirm builds. 

Spencer makes a soft, soft sound as his hand trails up your back, curling around your arm, and meandering a path to your elbow. 

“I got…” —Spencer begins, without any inclination to rush— “…more of that bath soak you liked, the camomile… and honey…”

You love the smell. Sometimes you swear you can smell it in his hair when he presses near you. 

“And a loufa, ‘cos you didn’t have one last time,” he adds. 

“Thank you.” 

“…You’re welcome.” He kisses the side of your head. Then, in a betrayal of his character, he laughs breathlessly, saying, “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. The loufa– It’s purple. I put it on the towel rack, and I got you a new face towel, too, mine’s too rough for you.” 

“Did you get yourself a new one too?” 

“Yeah.” He taps your cheek, the hand you’d forgotten about drawing a short line to your jaw. “You’re pretty.” 

You drop your chin. 

“You are,” he says. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Spencer’s hand slides down your neck, a caress that turns to a kind hold. “Can I…” He snorts softly. “You’re solid,” he says, squeezing your neck with enough pressure to wind you, which isn’t much. “You don’t have to get all tense.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to get tense,” you admit. 

“I know. I’m trying to help, but I’m just making it worse.” 

Spencer isn’t making it worse. Or, he wasn’t. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, is the thing.” 

“I was. Then you tensed up and I didn’t think I should.” His easy smile goes funny. “Could I have?” 

“Of course you could’ve,” you mumble, pressing your face into his shoulder before he can decimate the last of your self respect. He laughs —giggles, really, in a burst of sound— and tugs you in. “Not funny.”

He can hear the lie. “No, it’s not funny,” he agrees anyways, laying back and then moving forward, swaying you enough to turn the giggle into a full blown laugh. 

He murmurs something. You mumble back. His fingertips slip over the dip in your back and he’s saying something nice, if a little shy. It’s been nice getting closer to him, seeing the real Spencer, someone who’s hesitant but gentle beyond words. There’s no reason for him to be touching you like this, to talk sweet nothings behind your ear as he lugs you onto his chest, and maybe there’s no reason for you to melt. Butter in the sun, drifting bonelessly into his lap. 

“You smell like tea,” you say quietly. “I love it.” 

“You love it?” he asks, something oddly awed about him as he shifts your head back to look you in the eyes. 

“Mm. It’s nice. And your eyes are so brown… they’re my favourite thing about you.” 

Spencer teases the stripe of skin exposed by your rising t-shirt until you’re shivering again. “Thank you,” he says, letting one close in a wink as he taps your nose with his. “Am I allowed to say what I like about you, or–” You shake your head so violently he immediately stops. “Fine. But only because I want to sit like this for the rest of the night with you.” 

“I still need a shower.” 

“Later,” he says, his lips resting on your chin. “Way, way later, please.” 

[madamechrissy]

Let me in your ocean, Swim

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

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

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

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

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

Comments/reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyyyy <3

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

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

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

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

But now?

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

“Don’t call me that, god.”

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

“What’s that pink shit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you buying me a drink?”

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

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

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

“How’d you know I had one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? Calling me?”

“So surprising?”

“You hate me? So yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me.”

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

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

You want him.

He needs you.

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

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

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

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

“Need me that bad?”

“I’m gonna go-”

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

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

“Desperate to be alone, huh?”

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“You’re pretty rude.”

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

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

“You’re such a jerk, she’s pretty.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No!”

“Um…”

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

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

How are you even cuter glaring!?

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

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

“No, because you… just are a jerk!”

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

He really messed that up.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, for sure.”

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

“When I laugh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. So another drink, another story?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

“I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, what is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now he knows he hurt you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just… everyone was…”

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

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

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

No way though.

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

“I… um… you…”

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

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

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

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

“I-”

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

“Listen…”

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

You know you’re lying.

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

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

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

“You’re a big idiot.”

“Excuse me!?”

“You are.”

He was.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why were you so mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That little whine? Fuck… pathetic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cock drunk off fingers? So easy.”

“You know, drop me off-”

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

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

What would his dick be like?

His mouth?

If his fingers casually do that?

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

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

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

“Yeah you were.”

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

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

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

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

“Three.”

“Oh come on!”

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

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

He needs to tell you it all.

“Make 'em quick, dammit.”

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

You heat up then. “Oh…”

*****

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Yuuji, Megumi. Where’s Nobara?”

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

“Oh… that game sounds…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God no, okay fine.”

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

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

“Can’t handle a drink, brat?”

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

“Oh, shit… why-”

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

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

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

His lips on yours.

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

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

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

“My first.”

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

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

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

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

“Why would shit be wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pictures lifting you and-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you what!?”

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

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

You hate how you feel about it, about him.

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

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

*****

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

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

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

“Best kiss I had.”

“What!?”

“I should have told you. Not acted like…

“A dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, you’re like rich!?”

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

“So humble too.”

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

“Rich as fuck and I get water!?”

“It’s Evian.”

“Psh, where’s the liquor stash?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya know I’m not, admit it.”

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

“Good girl.”

Good girl!?

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

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

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

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

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

“What!?”

“Let ‘em know you’re mine this time.”

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

“Sip more water. So thirsty.”

“I really hate you.”

“You say that…”

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

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

“Oh yeah you did.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

“That alcohol spiking that confidence?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you dated boys, he dated girls.

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

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

But…

“You’re trashed.”

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

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

You won’t remember.

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

“You think so?” You whisper.

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

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

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

He’d lose himself in you.

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

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

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

“So?”

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

“Come on baby.”

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

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

“Am I?”

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

“I…”

“She’s amazing, you know.”

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

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

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

*****

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

“Yeah, it was… hard…”

You’re laughing then. “Sorry!”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“Wh-what was it?”

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

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

“You kept saying how hot I am.”

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

“Damn, simp much?”

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

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

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

“Cat got your tongue, slut?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a little-���

“Kuna…”

“A little… pretty ass bitchy ass-”

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

“Yeah?” He raises a brow.

“You’re a little bitch.”

“Swear to-”

“I should go.”

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

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

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

“Shit…”

*****

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

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

Jock Sukuna.

Frat leader Sukuna.

Asshole hoe ass Sukuna.

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

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

You.

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

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

That he was in love with you.

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

They weren’t you.

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

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

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

Fuck Sukuna.

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

Clueless.

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

“Why are you being friendly?”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe it does. What do you care!?”

“I don’t.”

“Good.” He says.

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

“Why do you gotta act like this?”

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

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

What were you about to do!?

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

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

“You’d never be-”

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

*****

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

“I was harsh.”

“Nah, you were real with me.”

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

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

“What!?”

“You really couldn’t fucking tell!?”

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

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

“Sukuna…”

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

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

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

“Kuna…”

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Fuck…” He rips your panties off.

“They’re expensive!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” At your husky admission he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want me to breed that slutty pussy?”

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

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

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

“I do love it.”

“You love me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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If you enjoy I'd love to hear your thoughts I put a lot on this onnne

[harryslittlefreakk]

off limits

summary: planning your brother’s birthday turns into crossing a line with his best friend. everyone say thank you @bethiegurl19 for the request!!!

wordcount: 4.5k

warnings: angst, smut (foreplay, protected sex)

a/n: back with a bang baby!!!!!

masterlist 😋🌷🫧🍒 taglist

“You’re not bringing him.”

“You can’t dictate that.”

“Yes I can.”

“No, Harry, you can’t. It’s my house, my brother, and my-.” Your voice trailed off, not knowing what you could actually call Matt. Harry knew as well as you did that he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was the man who bothered with you when his other options were busy.

“Jake doesn’t even like him,” Harry muttered, his jaw flexing as he spoke.

“Neither of you will ever like who I date while you still see me as a kid,” you shot back, standing up too fast, feeling the wine rush to your head as you turned your back on Harry. It was the fourth night you’ve gotten together to try and plan your brother‘s birthday, the fourth night Harry had fought you about Matt.

“It’s not about that. He’s an arse and everyone sees it except you.”

You rested your elbows on the counter, rubbing at your temples. “It’s not your place to see it. But fine. I won’t invite him,” you sighed, hating that you were giving in to Harry.

“Good,” Harry all but growled, downing the rest of his wine in one sip.

“And I don’t still see you as a kid,” he added, walking over to you, his hand brushing your side as he reached for a new bottle of wine. His touch was light, barely even there, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, heat blossoming against your skin. You could feel his presence next to you, close enough that the scent of his cologne mixed with the dry oaky smell of the wine on his breath. He hesitated for the briefest second, his hand lingering near your side. But even if he had noticed the way you’d gone totally rigid, he didn’t say anything.

You moved away slightly, trying to focus on the wine splashing into the glasses in front of you, the walls of the glass stained pink from Harry’s sloppy pouring, ignoring the way your skin buzzed in the aftermath of his touch. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, your mood worse.

“You’re not even pouring it right,” you muttered, snapping at Harry before you could stop yourself.

His head turned, and you could feel his eyes on you as he straightened, the bottle still in his hand.

“Pouring it right?”, he laughed, that fucking smirk tugging at his lips. It boiled your blood.

You turned to lean your hip against the counter, grabbing the bottle from his grip.

Harry let out another low, frustrated laugh, raking a hand through his long curls as he turned towards you fully.

“Relax,” he said finally, pulling the bottle back slamming it back down on the counter. “You’ve been on my case all week. The decorations, the music – you fought me on every single thing. What, because I don’t like your little boyfriend?”

You froze as Harry stepped closer, his tense frame towering over you. His green eyes were locked on yours, sharp and darkened in his frustration.

“Tell me then. What the fuck are you even doing with a guy like Matt?” His voice was low and biting, but not teasing in the way you’d grown to expect.

Your jaw clenched, your throat dry as your hands reached behind you to grip onto the edge of the counter. “You don’t know him,” was all you managed to say.

“Yes I do, y/n. I went to school with him. Jake went to school with him. And I’ve seen enough of him to know he hasn’t changed at all,” Harry shot back, his voice rising.

“It’s none of your business! I’m old enough to make my own mistakes. I don’t need either of you to protect me anymore,” you shouted, glaring at Harry.

“You never needed our protection. But look at you! You’re trying to pick a fight because I don’t think your hook up should be at Jake’s party. Is he even worth it?”

Your stomach twisted at Harry’s words, heat flooding your cheeks. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if despite all of Matt’s other flaws, of which there were many, he was a good enough fuck for you to keep him around.

“It’s worth it just to piss you off,” you mumbled.

Harry ran a hand over his face, looking straight through you as he laughed. “You’ve wasted a year fucking him because it pisses me off?”

“I’m not discussing that with you.”

“Why not? Because you don’t want to admit that’s the entire reason you carried on seeing him? Or because you don’t want to admit that he isn’t even a good fuck?”

You opened your mouth to spit something back at Harry, but nothing came out. Harry clearly knew you better than you thought, and no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed. That same irritating look of amusement was still on Harry’s face as he looked down at you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes flickering to your lips where they lingered for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

You hated him in that moment. For being right, for knowing you so well, for backing you into a corner you couldn’t see a way out of. But more than anything you hated how your body was reacting to him, the way his closeness made your heart race.

You wanted to punch him, to shove him out of your house and never see him again. But when your hand reached out towards Harry, it betrayed you, gripping at his t-shirt and pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.

It was all the confirmation he needed. His lips were on yours, rough and urgent, like he’d been holding himself back for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore. For a split second, you froze, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. But then his hands were on your waist, pulling you even closer.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands clutching at the cotton of his t-shirt as if you needed to hold on to something to keep from falling. His body pressed against yours, his warmth searing into you, that big wall of muscle pushing against your front.

Harry groaned against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he backed you up against the counter. The edge of it pressed into your lower back, but you didn’t care. All you could care about was him - the way his lips moved against yours, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way he tasted like wine and heat and something unmistakably Harry.

He stepped back, running a hand through his curls, his breathing uneven as his eyes darted between your face and the floor. His lips were red and swollen, and you couldn’t look at him without feeling like the world had tilted sideways. He stared at you, his eyes dark and wild, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes were still dark and locked onto yours. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough. “Didn’t seem like you minded.”

“I should go,” he said quietly after a minute, his voice hoarse and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

Your chest tightened, but you nodded, your arms wrapping around yourself in a futile attempt to fill the sudden ache his words created. “Yeah,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. “You should.”

For a moment, he hesitated, like he was waiting for you to stop him. But you didn’t. You just stood there, rooted in place as he turned toward the door. He didn’t look back as he left, and the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt deafening.

You let out a breath, leaning back against the counter as you tried to gather your thoughts. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, your skin still warm where his hands had held you, and you hated how empty the room felt without him. You hated that you even wanted him to stay and kiss you again.

The thought hit you like a wave, but you shook it off, forcing yourself to push away the longing that crept into your chest. He was gone, and it was already messy. It didn’t need to go deeper.

But when the knock at the door came, your heart leapt into your throat, and before you could even process what you were doing, you were pulling it open.

Harry stood there, his hand braced on the doorframe, his eyes dark as they met yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was fighting an internal battle he’d already lost.

“I couldn’t go,” he said finally, his voice rough.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because he was stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him as his hands found your waist. He pulled you to him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding yours with a desperate, hungry urgency that left you breathless.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with frustration as his hands gripped your thighs. “You know that?”

“You’re the one who came back,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you again, deeper this time.

“Yeah, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck, sending a shiver racing through you. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m right. Matt isn’t enough for you, is he?”

Your breath hitched, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “Don’t—”

You hated how easily he got under your skin, how his words hit far too close to the truth. “You’re so full of yourself,” you snapped, though your voice lacked conviction, trembling under the weight of his presence.

Harry smirked, his hands tightening on your hips as he carried you toward your bedroom, not breaking eye contact. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dripping with confidence. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

You didn’t answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But the heat in your cheeks and the way you clung to him told him everything he needed to know.

By the time he reached your bedroom, your resolve was gone, replaced by a desperate ache in your core that only he could seem to satisfy. He laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady.

And as his lips found yours again, his green eyes locked onto yours for just a split second, looking at you in a way that showed you both permission and forgiveness.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Harry whispered, his words muffled against your mouth, the scent of the wine warm against your skin.

“I can handle it,” you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“Say you’ll tell me,” he repeated, firm and commanding.

“I’ll tell you,” you echoed, heat spreading through your body as he planted his hands either side of your head, caging you in.

The silver rings on his fingers caught the lone beam of moonlight streaming through the curtains, the chilled metal brushing against your skin as he moved closer still. Your gaze follow the lines of his tattoos, the dark ink curling up his forearm, disappearing under the pushed-up sleeve of his t-shirt.

Harry‘s mouth moved from yours to the curve of your neck, his lips brushing over your wild pulse with a deliberate slowness. His teeth grazed your skin, a contrast to the soft flex of his tongue as he kissed his way down, and you couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that slipped past your lips.

“Think you finally ran out of shit to say,“ he teased, his hand shifting to wrap your leg around his hip, his touch firm and possessive as he pressed himself against you.

The hardness of him against your inner thigh made your head spin, the friction of his jeans against the thin cotton of your leggings burning into you. You rolled your lower lip into your mouth, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape as his hips rolled against yours, his cock pushing against you.

“These jeans,“ you whispered, your voice breathy as your hand slid between your bodies, tugging at their skin-tight waistband. “I hate them.”

“D’you really?” Harry asked, his voice laced with that same teasing amusement as he moved back off the bed. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure they’re driving you crazy right now.“

You glared up at him, your lips pulled into a reluctant smirk, waiting on your brain to form some sort of comeback. Instead, you pushed up onto your knees, grabbing at Harry‘s t-shirt until his lips crashed back onto yours in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and frustration.

Harry groaned into your mouth, the sound low and guttural as it echoed through you, his hands roaming over your body, sliding beneath your t-shirt. His touch left trails of fire and goosebumps in its wake, your back arching into him, your fingers curling into his hair.

“D’you want me to stop?“ he murmured against your lips.

“No,“ you breathed, your lips brushing against his before his mouth captured yours again. More insistent now, his fingers splayed across the curve of your waist. Your world was spinning with every touch, your every thought consumed by him – his taste, his scent, the way his lean frame press against yours like even an inch of empty space between you would be too much.

He let you part for just a second, just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes somehow darkening even further as they roamed the skin that had, until then, been off limits to him. His breath hitched, his fingers skimming along the soft lace of your bra. He took his time, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice gravelly yet almost silent, as if he wasn’t saying that to you, but to himself.

Your eyebrows quirked in questioning as his eyes snapped back to yours, something dangerous in the depths of darkened greens. “More than I should’ve,” he confessed, leaning down to press his lips to the sharp angle of your collarbone. “Much more.“

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your fingers finding their way back to his hair, tugging him closer as his mouth continued down your body.

When his fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings, he paused, pushing you softly back down onto the bed, his eyes boring into you. “I need to hear you say you want this,“ he said, pushing his free hand through his curls.

“I want this,” you breathed without hesitation. “I want you.”

That was the final confirmation he needed, his hands never leaving your skin as he stripped away the barriers between you, first the remainder of your clothes, and then his.

When he finally pulled his shirt off, you let your eyes wander over his body, drinking in the sharp lines of his torso, the way his tattoos rose and fell with his breathing. You kept your gaze on his body as he kicked off those damn jeans and his underwear, Letting yourself appreciate the soft smack of his cock against his flesh as he freed it, something your teenage self was sure to thank you for.

You felt your eyes wide and slightly as you registered his size, your breath catching in your throat.

But Harry only smirked, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, his hand sliding under you to cut the back of your neck as his body settled over yours. His weight, his heat, the feel of his skin against yours – it was overwhelming.

“I told you he wasn’t enough for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him once again that he was arrogant, but his hand slid between your thighs, and the words died on your tongue.

You let out a strangled gasp of his name, your head falling back into the pillows as the part of his thumb worked at your clit.

“Say it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Say I’m better for you than he is.”

You wanted to fight him, to deny him and take him down a notch, but all you could do was whimper against his skin, your body arching into his touch as heat pooled in your core.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his lips trailing across all the skin they could reach, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

The roughness of his hands contrasted with the gentle touch of his movements, intoxicating and addictive as his hips ground against yours.

“You’re already so worked up for me,” he muttered, his voice almost a growl as he pushed two fingers into you. “All this time, y’just needed to be fucked right.”

“Shut up,” you managed to bite back, losing the edge to your voice as his fingers flexed against your sweet spot.

Harry chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh that sent shivers down your spine. “That’s why you get so riled up. Because every time I fight you about Matt, you’re thinking about this.”

You tried to glare at him, but the way his fingers fucked into you made it impossible to do anything but push your hips against his touch, your cheek turning to him as his lips grazed your ear.

“What do you think about, hmm? Me touching you like this?” he continued, taking your silence as confirmation.

“Harry,” you groaned, gathering a fistful of his hair as his hand stilled, his thumb pressed to your nerves.

“C’mon, kitten. Tell me,” he pressed, a commanding edge to his words that only deepened the ache in your core.

“What you’d feel like, how you’d sound. How you’d fuck m-“

You didn’t get to finish, Harry’s lips were on yours again, swallowing the rest of your words in a kiss so deep and consuming that it felt like he was pulling the life from your body. He pushed a third finger into you, his rings stone-cold against your folds, the silence punctured by breathy gasps and your wetness pushing in and out of you with his every movement.

Your breathing quickened, each stroke of Harry’s fingers building the pressure in your core. He worked at you expertly, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that had your skin overheating, your toes starting to curl, your hips bucking into his palm.

His name spilled from your lips like a mantra as your body tensed. Harry kept his eyes locked on you, his brows furrowed as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Let go, love,” he murmured, his voice thick and coaxing, his fingers curling just right to hit the sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. The tension that had built inside you snapped, a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing over you with such power that you couldn’t hold back from crying out. Your muscles tightened around his fingers as hot, pulsing waves of pleasure worked their way over your skin, leaving sharp tingles in their wake.

Harry didn’t let up, drawing out your high with slow, deliberate movements, his thumb back to pressing firmly at your clit as his fingers worked you through it.

When you finally went limp beneath him, your chest heaving, he slowly withdrew his hand, the sudden lack of touch drawing out a needy whine from your throat.

You watched through blurry eyes as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste you. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, an appreciative groan echoing from his throat.

You let out a shaky breath, your head spinning, your world now entirely tilted on its axis. But Harry didn’t give you much time to recover. He leaned back down, his lips brushing yours, letting you taste your sweetness on his tongue as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Not done with you yet,” he promised, his voice muffled against your lips.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your mouth quirking into a smile, heart racing as he fished through his pockets for a condom.

“I’ve been patient with you,” he said, tearing the foil wrapper with his teeth as he knelt between your legs. “Not anymore.”

You swallowed hard as he rolled the condom over his cock, his length hard and heavy in his hand.

“I can handle you,” you retorted, heat flooding through you.

Harry let out a low chuckle, his nose brushing against yours as he lined himself up, his tip just barely pressing against your entrance. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

He pushed into you slowly, his hips rolling forward inch by inch. The stretch had you gasping, your hands flying to his shoulders. Harry groaned, the sound raw and guttural, his forehead falling to yours as he stilled, letting you adjust to him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice strained. “Feel so good, princess.”

Your fingernails dug into his skin as your body arched into his, trying to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him. “Move,” you whimpered, desperate for him to do something to help ease the ache building inside you.

Harry obeyed, his hips rolling back before snapping forward again, and again, the force of his thrusts sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He moved deliberately, his pace slow and calculated, his free hand grabbing needily at the flesh of your hip.

“Look at you,” he groaned, full of awe as he watched the way your body responded to him. “Taking me so well. You were made for this.”

Your head rolled back on the pillow, your nails raking down Harry’s back as he drove into you, his pace unrelenting. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and Harry’s gravelly groans as he buried himself in you over and over again.

Every thrust brought you closer to the brink, the coil in your stomach tightening with every snap of his hips. Harry seemed to sense it, his hand sliding underneath his body, finding your clit and circling the nerves with practiced precision.

“You gonna come for me?” he asked, his teeth grazing the skin at your jaw. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?”

Your entire body trembled as Harry’s words broke through the fog in your mind, his deep, commanding tone sending shockwaves through you. His fingers on your clit matched the rhythm of his thrusts, each movement calculated to push you further into a haze of pleasure.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands clutching desperately at his curls.

“Wanna feel how good I make you feel,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your back arched off the bed as his hips slammed into yours, the angle perfect, his cock burying itself deep inside you. You howled out his name, your walls clenching and pulsing around him.

Harry groaned deeply, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he fought to maintain control.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my good girl.”

He didn’t stop, his hips continuing to drive into you, his fingers on your clit prolonging your orgasm until your body shuddered from the overstimulation. You writhed and whimpered, trying to ground yourself, but Harry wasn’t done with you yet.

“You’ve got another one in you,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough and full of intent.

“I can’t,” you whined, completely sure that you couldn’t handle more, that another orgasm might break you, but the fire in his gaze told you it wasn’t a question.

He shifted, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, your body already sensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your sweet spot had you spiraling all over again.

His fingers left your clit only to grab your other thigh, pulling you flush against him, his pace growing rougher, more desperate. “You feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Feel how good you’re taking me? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You could barely think, your mind foggy with pleasure as the pressure built inside you again, faster and harder this time. Harry’s lips found yours, swallowing your moans, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release.

“Come with me,” he urged, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice barely more than a breath. “Come with me, kitten. Let me feel you.”

And then you were falling again, your body clenching around him as another orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and all-consuming. Harry followed just a second later, his groan low and guttural as he buried himself deep, his body trembling as he spilled into you.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together as you both came down from the high. Harry’s weight pressed against you, grounding you, his lips ghosting over your temple in a surprisingly tender gesture.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer now, full of concern as he brushed your damp hair away from your face.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. “More than okay.”

Harry chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your cheek. “Still think I’m full of myself?”

You shook your head, “no. Just thinking about me being full of you,” you grinned, biting down on your lip.

He cupped the back of your head, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him, holding you flush to his body. “I think your brother might kill me,” he whispered, a nervous edge to his usually steady voice.

[peachesofteal]

more pizza girl

You're fucked.

It's the only way to explain how you feel, standing in the store, staring at bottles of liquor, wine, beer. You don't even know if this is the appropriate thing to do, but you've always seen it in shows, movies, so it must be, right?

You should have said no to this whole thing, should have told them you're busy, or you're working, or you had plans, but for some reason, you just knew they'd see through it. They'd call your bluff.

So here you were, staring at a rack of wine, trying to pick something to take to their house for dinner.

Even the thought is a marvel. You're not a complete shut in, you visit the few friends you have on occasion, your family, attend work functions, but this is different.

You know it is.

"Excuse me?" A petite old lady chirps at your shoulder, and you turn. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, um... no."

"You sure? It's just you've been standing here for almost thirty minutes." Fuck. 

"I'm fine." It comes out more assertive than you would have liked, and she backs away without another word. Great. 

You choose a six pack and book it out of there.

Their place is cozy. Not too small, not too big, clean and organized, orderly.

Except for the dog.

He's massive. 

And slobbery.

And... not for you.

Simon realizes immediately, and herds him away behind a baby gate, where he promptly slumps to the floor and closes his eyes, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

"He's..."

"Ye dinnae have to say cute. We know he's not."

"He's a mutt," Simon tells you, placing a bowl of something hot on the table, "but he's ours. Rescued him an' everything. Never liked pets but... found him on the street an' for some reason couldn't leave him behind."

"That's so sweet." He shrugs, Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Didnae tell me a thing. Just came home with a giant slobbering bear." You eye the table and it's three chairs, suddenly overflowing with anxiety. Which one should you pick? Which ones are theirs? Do they sit next to each other? Doesn't someone always sit at the head of the table? "Take a seat wherever," Johnny coaxes but you remain frozen, avoiding their eyes.

A hand folds over your shoulder with gentle, careful pressure, and warmth. "This one." Simon urges you towards the one in the middle, and you relax, grateful.

"Sorry." You mumble, but Johnny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for. We're really happy you came."

"I... I'm glad I came too." The admission tries to stick in your throat before you force it free, and they reward you with soft smiles.

"Let's eat then."

Dinner passes in a breeze. It's so easy to sit with them, be around them. Involved in their conversation but comfortable enough to bow out of it too, and just listen. They're very good at navigating it, knowing when to stop and go, when to ask you something, and when to move on.

"If you want to stay for a bit, we were thinking about watching a movie. Afraid we're not really exciting." Simon calls over his shoulder, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on his face.

"Oh." Just do it, do it, do it- "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah but no... nothing scary. I can't do those." Johnny jerks his head towards the couch.

"Nothin' scary."

Simon doesn't give you the opportunity to stress over the seating arrangement this time, and points immediately to the left side of the couch. "The button down on the side will extend the footrest, and it can lean all the way back."

"Wow." Johnny settles on the other side, and Simon takes up an overstuffed armchair to your right.

Lots of distance. You kind of feel sad about it.

Your eyelids start to droop after an hour, and no matter how hard you fight it, you're in a losing battle. "I think I should go home." You mumble, and Simon pauses the screen.

"You alright?"

"I'm falling asleep." You don't make any moves to get up, instead curling in closer, tucking your hands under your cheek. The room is warm, the couch is soft, and the dog is snoring, which is comforting, in a weird way. "Should call an uber."

"We'll drive ye."

"No, no... I'm-" you yawn. You don't want to move, and when no one says anything, you let your eyes close for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

In the dark, who knows what time or how many minutes or hours later, a blanket is tucked around your shoulders, shoes slipped off your feet, and someone strokes your cheek, trailing up over your forehead and away, lingering briefly.

"Sleep tight sweet girl."

[evilmenenjoyer]

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true. 

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm. 

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position.  “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

[buckysfaveplum]

her weakness

summary: you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: violence, blood, fighting, it’s a fight seen so yea expect things relating to that

a/n: i rewatched tfatws and this fight always makes me so worried for my bbs so yea this was born. I typed it up helllllla quick so I'm sorry if its trash, I'm not too proud of this one idk.

masterlist | send requests

Your feet followed closely behind Bucky as you approached the warehouse. Your limbs were stiff and your skin clammy. Your hand stayed firmly in Bucky’s grasp as you approached John Walker. Sam had tracked him to a storage warehouse near the square you had just witnessed brutality in.

He murdered him, in cold blood, with Steve’s shield. You couldn’t get the screams of the public out of your head, the sound of the vibranium as it slashed into the flagsmasher’s body. You would’ve thrown up if Bucky hadn’t pushed you behind him. You had seen much worse, much more gruesome violence in your line of work. But something about this was sickening, rotting away in your stomach as you tried to grapple with the truth that the shield your friend once carried with honor and pride was just used by an unhinged soldier who found joy in the worst parts of the job.

Bucky stayed ahead of you, following Sam as they entered the building. Your hand trembled in his vibranium grasp. His thumb gently brushed across the veins and bones of your hand, trying to bring you comfort before the scene he knew was about to play out.

As you walked into the large space, you saw him. He was too composed and stoic for what had just taken place. His tall and slender figure loomed as he casually walked up to you all, barely acknowledging Sam as he tried to get him to listen.

“Walker,” Sam started. The soldier brushed Sam’s stern tone off, hopefully delaying what he knew was coming.

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” He said, walking past you.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam took a few steps closer, trying again to get him to focus.

Your jaw tightened as you watched the man pace erratically in front of you. He was muttering quietly before responding as if trying to convince himself what he was saying had any truth.

“What?” He asked, coming closer. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do.”

Your grip on Bucky tightened, sensing Walker’s anger began to boil over. You knew a fight was coming, it always was. 

“I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!” Walker shouted, his arms waving now and revealing how off the deep end he had gone. 

You knew the moment you saw him in that fight. He stole the serum and took it for himself. This behavior just confirmed it. But the serum only enhanced what was already bubbling under the surface. The same John you meet on the highway. The same John who waltzed into the police station as if he had the authority or right to control Bucky and call him an ‘asset’. It was always there. 

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”

Bucky’s smooth and deep voice cut through the tension in the room. You felt his grip on your hand squeeze for a moment, making sure you were okay. He could always sense your anxiety in the field. Your powers made keeping your calm difficult. You would never use them in battle unless your opponent was enhanced as well. You were a skilled fighter and agent, you didn’t need them. And it didn’t always seem ethical. But keeping them at bay, in check, could prove difficult- especially in heightened situations such as this.

Walker scoffed at Bucky’s words, dismissing the truth like it was nothing.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well,” Bucky said.

“I’m not like you!” Walker’s voice was full of disgust and resentment. From the moment you met him, you could sense his quiet disdain for your best friend. Looking down his nose at him like he was some scum left over from Steve's life, something he’d always have to deal with. Yet at the same time, resentment. Jealousy over his power, control, and abilities in his enhanced body. As if that’s what made him an excellent fighter. Or a good person.

Your spare hand moved between Bucky’s shoulder blades, giving him a subtle and quiet support as you prepared.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle, okay?” Sam said, taking a step closer to Walker. That shield danced in your vision, taunting you as he paced back and forth. “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.”

Walker’s distress spread across his face, his brows furrowing and eyes scrunching as he tussled with Sam’s words.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Sam said.

The warehouse went silent as Walker stared at the ground before him. Bucky gave you a soft, tight-lipped smile before begrudgingly dropping your hand. He slowly took a step towards the man, joining Sam.

“John…” Bucky said, calmly. 

“You gotta give me the shield, man,” Sam said.

That did it. You could feel the room shift that second.

A disturbing serene aura washed over Walker at that moment. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to you all. His eyes were dark, lacking a certain warmth and compassion you had grown so used to seeing through that blue cowl. A certain warmth that left when he hung up the shield.

“Oh…. so that’s what this is,” Walker said. “You almost got me.”

You could see his grip on the shield tighten, the leather straps twisting between his fingers.

“You made a mistake,” Sam said.

You slowly took a step forward, your hands flexing as you prepared for what was to come. Walker finally turned his gaze to you. His eyes roamed you up and down. You could’ve sworn you saw Bucky’s jaw clench, that familiar muscle tightening in distress. Walker smirked at you before glancing at Bucky. He could read the protectiveness radiating off of your supersoldier.

“You don’t wanna do this,” Walker said to him.

Bucky didn’t meet his gaze. His fists balled at his side, practically shaking with anger. He never took pleasure in a fight, every punch or kick felt like a necessity rather than enjoyment. But he couldn’t deny how much he desired to rip that shield from his grimy hands.

“Yeah we do,” Bucky said.

Sam lurched forward first, Bucky soon following suit. Your feet moved quickly, moving behind Walker as your friends attacked from the front. The man moved with a speed you had yet to see from him, a brute force you could only get from the serum.

With a harsh kick, Walker sent Sam flying away, leaving you and Bucky alone. You tried to knock Walker down from the back as Bucky grappled with the shield. As you sent a harsh kick into the back of Walker’s knees, he spun quickly and sent a jab into Bucky’s gut sending him backward in pain and knocking him off balance. Before you could back him up, Walker slammed a harsh punch into Bucky’s jaw. Your heart raced and your hands shook as you watched him drop to the ground. You sprung into action, pulling the shield back in your hands and keeping Walker from smashing it into Bucky’s face. Sam leaped in, kicking the shield up and drawing attention to him.

You slammed a kick into Walker’s back, sending him stumbling forward as Sam slashed at him with his wings. Bucky leaped up, his arm aiming to come down on the faux Captain America’s back hard but was ultimately blocked by the shield. 

You were growing frustrated. Walker never packed this much of a punch. The serum raged through his veins, lacing each kick and swing of the shield with force and hate. As you and Sam continued to trade blocks at Walker, Bucky attempted to pull him down but was quickly met with the shield swinging into the side of his face. Your legs shook. The longer this dragged out the more difficult you find keeping your emotions in check. The longer you watched your favorite person in the world become decorated with blood and bruises, the more your ethical code began to look like a suggestion. Walker deserved a swift blast to the face and more. But you held off. 

Walker slammed the shield into Sam’s back, sending him down. As your two friends recovered briefly, it was just you and him. You surged forward at the man, dodging as he swung at you. Being smaller than the two Avengers alongside you made it much easier to evade Walker’s sloppy attacks. You sent a firm kick into his chest followed by an uppercut into his chin. As he spun and tumbled, Bucky was back on his feet and meeting Walker with punches. Bucky’s attacks quickly led the pair into a tight spot, backing Walker up into a heavy piece of machinery. The pair spun in circles over the shield, yanking the vibranium disc back and forth and trading beatings in between. Sam quickly followed you over, diving in for aid, but quickly was sent flying back by Walker’s attacks. His body slammed to the ground with a grunt.

While Bucky worked, you glanced at Sam. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, preparing to dive back into the fight. In your moment of distraction, the fear and care for your dear friend overriding your common sense to keep fighting, you heard Walker’s voice pull you back. Bucky was trapped between the shield and a machine. You rushed over to help but it was far too late.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Before you could register what Walker was saying, you watched as Bucky went flying. 

Walker’s forceful swing of the shield sent him hurtling across the warehouse. Your body froze as if someone had filled your veins with cement. The dramatic scene Walker had created came to an end with Bucky’s body smashing into an electrified pole and crashing to the ground. The might of his impact snapped the pole in the middle, sparks cascaded from the steel and flooded onto the floors; leading your eyes to Bucky. 

“Bucky!” You screamed.

His body lay limp and splayed out on the cold dirty floors. His face was smushed into the cement. His limbs didn’t dare to move. Except for his vibranium arm, which twitched and spasmed under his body; blue and white sparks burst out from the plates adding to the horror.

Your breaths were heavy and shaky, your hands trembled at your sides as the vibrating blue of your powers began to spark at your fingertips; mirroring the sight of your best friend’s arm. The room was spinning, at least that’s what made sense to you. Your balance was unstable, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment. You turned to spare a look at Sam, begging him for permission. But he was already back on his feet and rushing towards Walker. 

“Go!” He shouted.

You had never been faster. Your abilities never gave you the gift of flight but in that moment they very well could have. Your legs became weak and your steps messy as you neared Bucky. You crashed to your knees beside him, pain radiated up your thighs from the impact but you couldn’t care. It couldn’t be worse than the expanding tight pain in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

Your hands quivered as they hovered over his body. With him lying so still you could finally take in the damage Walker had done to his face. Blood was splattered all over, deep purple and blue hues bloomed across his cheekbones, and a nasty split had opened on his lip. Worst of all, his nose was broken.

The sparks continued to burst from the plates of his arm, his hand jerking and spasming with an unsettling sound of grinding metal. Quickly, you placed your hands firmly on the vibranium. A deep blue beamed from under your palms, cascading the metallic golds and blacks of his arm in your glow. The excess electricity from the crash moved in waves through the arm up into your hands. You focused as all the veins in your body became electrified, an aqua glow shone through your skin as the energy you. Your once y/e/c eyes were quickly overtaken, the cool energy overriding your iris’ and leaving an intense indigo shine. With a sharp gasp and breath, you let go. His arm had stopped moving, now lying as still and motionless as he did. 

“Bucky,” you said, giving his damaged body a soft shake. “Bucky, wake up.”

He didn’t move, his face slack and limps heavy as you struggled to turn him to his back and off of his arm. Your hands rushed to his face, cupping his cheeks and holding him close as if you could shield him from more of John Walker’s savagery. If someone had the power to take your abilities and trade them for the ability to heal, you’d offer them anything they wished just for the potential to spare Bucky from his pain even for a moment. 

“Buck… come on wake up,” the fresh blood from his injuries spilled into your fingertips, the crimson caked into your cuticles and threatened not to leave.

“Plum, please,” His body twitched; your lungs finally filled with air. 

His breaths were labored but there, his chest rattled as he sucked in much-needed air. Your fingers moved to his neck, their shuddering finally stilling as you felt his pulse return to a firm and strong pattern.

The sounds of Sam’s grunts and Walker’s cries swiftly pulled your attention back to your friend. He was up in the air, a long metal cord pulling on the shield and attempting to free it from Walker’s venomous grasp. To no avail, as soon Sam was flung back to the floor and across the room. The shield clattered to the ground, equally laid between the two men. The smug and determined look on Walker’s face enraged you, the blue glow returning to your eyes. Sam glanced over at you before rushing for the shield. He needed you.

You turned back to Bucky, still unresponsive to your touches and voice. He was breathing, his pulse steady. Taking in the broken state of his body, his face battered and bloodied, you couldn’t hold back your rage any longer.

It was as if something had possessed you. Gently, you laid Bucky back to the ground, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, your voice monotone yet determined. The expressions of concern, fear, and horror that had played upon your face just moments ago were now gone. You were cold and still, as you rose to your feet and walked over to the two men fighting behind you.

Before Walker could grab the shield, a harsh blast of blue energy sent him flying back in the opposite direction. The man was studded, confused by how he could have been knocked down. He looked up to see you rushing towards him. You were steady in your movement, not running but with each step winding up for the next blow. Your hands were baked in a fierce glow of aqua as you channeled more energy through your fingertips. 

Walker scrambled to his feet, preparing for the offense. Before he could even take a step he was back on the ground with another blast from you. A loud cry fell from your lips as you slammed him down with force from your power. As you ran up to Walker, he quickly sent a firm hit to your jaw. You stumbled back, regaining your vision to see him coming at you. You jumped up, knees to your chest and feet pressing on his as you blasted him once again. 

He was on the ground with you towering over him. His face was coated in shades of black and blue, mirroring the face you were trembling over just seconds ago. Good, he deserved that and more.

You blasted him again as he struggled to crawl away. You followed him, hot on his trail as energy overflowed from your hands. The shield was long forgotten by you, only driven by your need for revenge. Bucky couldn’t even answer you, couldn’t move. He needed to pay.

Walker’s body slammed back into machinery as you surged more energy at him. He was done, hands shaking above him as he prepared for your next blow.

“We’re better than this right? Captain America doesn’t do this,” Walker said through his split lip and shaking jaw.

You scoffed; if only he had thought that way an hour ago. You wouldn’t be here. Bucky would be okay.

“Good thing I’m not Captain America,” you said. Walker shielded his face as you wound up your aim. Energy radiated from your fist up your forearm as you pulled it back to deliver one last shot.

“Y/n, stop!” Sam shouted.

Your blast was halted by a firm hand on your upper arm. You recognized the stillness and coolness that held onto your body. Turning you saw Bucky behind you. He was shaking as he stood, breaths labored and heavy, but there he was. Sam ran up behind the two of you, shield in hand as he looked at you. But all you could focus on was Bucky.

Bucky stepped forward, shaking his head softly as he lowered your arm. 

“This isn’t you, you don’t do this,” he said. Your nostrils flared as you breathed heavily, struggling to reel your rage back in. You glanced back at Walker who lay on the ground, glaring at you smugly. Your eyes shone brighter, your fists clenching as the glow intensified. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, taking your face and turning you to look back at him. “You’re not him.”

The energy overtaking your body began to fade as you relaxed under his firm touch. The uncontrollable blue glow began to fade back into your body, leaving you panting as you tried to calm your emotions. Bucky stood before you, vibranium hand stroking your own.

“You’re okay,” you said.

“I’m okay. Hey, hey, I’m okay. It’s over,” he said, pulling you away from the scene you had created. He walked you slowly back towards Sam, you shook in his grasp. Walker struggled to stand as he watched the three of you leave. The shield taunted him as it hung off of Sam’s arm, finally back with its true owner. The Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at Sam. “I just….” you glanced at Bucky, once again seeing the battering of his beautiful face. Your throat swelled as you lost your words, choking on your fear.

“We got it back,” Sam said, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze before heading out of the building. His limp as he walked didn’t escape you.

Bucky gripped your hand tightly, pulling you with him as he walked. He didn’t make it far before his knees began to buckle, his body slipping as he fell. You were at his side in a heartbeat, arm hauling him back up beside you; refusing to let his body crash to the filthy ground again. 

“Hey, hold onto me,” you said. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and his other gripped at your waist as you began to pull him from the warehouse, his feet limping and tripping as he struggled to walk. Walker’s body began to fade in the distance as you left.

“Why did you do that, doll?” Bucky asked as you walked, his voice slurred and low. Each wince and suck of breath stabbed at your side like a pecking bird, refusing to let your wound heal. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never done that. I….” you paused, stopping your feet as you gave him a moment to catch his breath. “When I saw you hit that pole, I lost it.”

“I’m okay, Y/n,” he said, yet his words seemed to hold no weight as he struggled to stay upright at your side.

“Your arm was sparking, Bucky. You weren’t moving. I-I thought that you…” You couldn’t finish, gripping him tighter as your voice shook. As if letting him go would give the world a chance to tear him from you once again. Your fingertips dug into his tact suit, determined to embed yourself in him.

“Hey, babydoll,” he said, hoisting himself up just enough to take your face in his hands. He swayed on his feet as he stood, intent on holding you close as he spoke. Your hands held him steady at his side.

“I’m here, I’ll always be here. But no matter what happens to me, I don’t want you to lose yourself,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I can’t have that.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you said.

“You won’t. I’m right here, I’m always coming back to you.”

You nodded softly as you rested your head on his chest. His hands moved to your hair as he held you close. Your hands wound around his center, keeping him safe in your arms. As long as you were around, no one would take him.

“You’re so good, you’re so special, Y/n. You need to be strong, even if I get hurt. You can’t drop your morals for me. They mean too much to you,” he said.

“I think you may be my weakness,” you said, your voice muffled in his chest. He tucked himself closer into you at your words, his head resting upon yours. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“You’ve always been mine,” he said softly.

---

taglist:

(comment to join <3)

[justauthoring]

The Flutters of my Heart.

Request: hey could you do a fic with thanos from squid game: where the reader is apart of gi hub’s group but thanos is really into her and keeps flirting with her loudly. Her and the boys are all suspicious, thinking it’s a trick but they find out he just really likes her

Pairing: Choi Su-bong "Thanos" x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,327

A/N: I did not think the second Squid Game fic I'd write would be for Thanos but... honestly, it feels right.

Two things -> Thanos might be OOC lol he's super hard to write for and you essentially replaced Jun-hee - I love her but it just works better for this fic.

Your first interaction with him had been anything but pleasant.

With blood splattered across his face, from the people you'd seen him knock over during Red Light, Green Light no less, he'd smiled at you with crazed eyes, called you 'Senorita' and asked if you'd join his team. You're positive even if you hadn't seen his actions during the first game, you would've said no. You're even more confident in your outright denial when you see him vote 'O' with a grin.

He's all flirt and false charm. He promises you that he'll keep you safe because he's the one and only great Thanos and does so even as his friend scoffs and tells him they shouldn't bother with someone like you.

You had to admit, he was convincing. If you weren't in a game of life or death, you'd be lying to yourself to say that a part of you wouldn't maybe given in to his flirtations. But, this was life or death and you can't afford to make alliances with someone who is clearly so... unsteady.

Definitely not with someone who so outwardly wants to stay in this terrible place.

You find yourself your own team, somehow survive the second game and really, Thanos hasn't been on your mind since that first interaction. You'd barely paid attention when you'd seen his team win, the only thing really of note catching your attention that he'd seemed to find some other girl to bother instead of you.

Your group, despite two initially voting to stay, are routed in their beliefs to get out of here after the second game. Despite them all being men, they'd accepted you with ease and any little concerns they might have had had been squashed the second you'd won the game of Ddakji your first try.

You feel safe with your group and allow yourself to follow them around, feeling protected with your numbers and at ease with their friendly and inviting personalities.

It isn't until after the second round of voting and Jung-bae's surprising betrayal, that you're approached by Thanos for a second time.

You're in line for food when he approaches you, surprisingly not with Player 124 like he normally is.

"Senorita," he grins, pulling your eyes on him with a blink of surprise. You frown when you realize who it is, and even more so when you register that stupid pet name. "I'm relieved to see you made it through the second game."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff; "let's hope I make it through the third." The insinuation is made clear as you raise a brow at the blue 'O' patch on his sweater.

Thanos only grins. "Even though you're an 'X', I still promise to keep you safe." He winks, taking a step closer to you. "All you have to do is let me."

You huff; "I'm good, thanks."

"Aweh, come on, beautiful," he smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before you can pull away. "You can trust me. I would've last game too if you'd give me the chance. In fact, I tried to find you for the last game but you'd already surrounded yourself with all those old men."

You roll your eyes. "I'd choose them over you anyday."

"You wound me," Thano pouts, clutching at his heart. Still, the glee in his eyes in undeniable. "How about this? You sit with me for dinner, I'll convince you I'm not such a bad guy."

Astonished at his relentlessness, your lips part to respond, but before you can, a voice cuts you off;

"She's already got friends to sit with."

You turn your head to find Dae-ho, him moving to stand right next to you. His hand falls on your shoulder in a reassuring touch, sending you a gentle smile before frowning over at Thanos. Behind, you can see Gi-hun and Young-il who are both watching the interaction closely. They've already got their dinners in their hands, clearly having stopped when they saw you and Thanos.

Already reassured by their presence, especially Young-il after you'd seen him take down both Thanos and Player 124 in seconds when they'd tried to attack Player 333, you turn back to glance at Thanos.

His face has faltered slightly at the sight of your group, but he doesn't back down.

"I'm sure the Senorita can speak for herself," Thanos challenges, smirking at you.

"She can," you cut in, confidence gained by Dae-ho and the rest. "And she says she doesn't want to sit with you either. Now, move. You're blocking the line."

Dae-ho lets out a barking laugh and before Thanos can say anything more, you're turning, shoving past him to move up the line.

Before Thanos would ever admit defeat, he smiles back at you, shrugging; "I'll get you to say yes, eventually!"

-

You're making your way back from the bathroom about thirty minutes later, on your own because you'd assured the boys you'd be okay on your own, when your wrist is grabbed.

Your lips part to let out a yelp, but any sound is quickly muffled by a hand pressed against your mouth.

You're tugged back, in between two sets of the beds, struggling in the grasp until the person who grabbed you stops. Their hands let go of you and you quickly spin, ready to defend yourself if need be, until your eyes catch sight of a familiar shade of purple.

"Thanos," you huff, shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Hey, baby," he grins, lips spread wide.

"What the hell," you hiss, shoving at him. "What is your problem?"

He has the audacity to shrug. "This is the only way I could get you alone to talk." For some reason, he takes that opportunity to brush back a strand of wild hair from your mild kidnapping he'd done, tucking it behind your ears with an odd gentleness.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you ignore the flutter of your heart. "And?" You question, shaking your head. "Still doesn't give you the right to grab me like that."

"I wanted to know your name," he grins, winking at you.

Your lips part. "You wanted to know my name?"

He nods.

"What exactly is the point of all of this?" You huff, shaking your head in frustration. "This is the third time you've bothered me. I thought I made the way I felt clear at the beginning."

"You did," he agrees, "I'm choosing to ignore it."

You blink, stunned. The actual audacity of this man.

"You're ignoring my rejection?"

"Yup," he nods, popping the 'p'.

"You're insufferable," you shake your head. "I don't want anything to do with someone who would willingly choose to stay in these horrible games. Not to mention, have fun playing them."

Thanos laughs, "I'm here for the same reason as you, baby. I need the money," he shrugs, holding his hands by his side as if in innocence as he pronounces 'money' in english. "Nothing wrong with trying to make the most of it. That includes learning your name."

"You're sick," you scoff, "I saw you push those two in the first game! You're the reason they're dead."

"As if they wouldn't have died on their own," Thanos rolls his eyes. "Besides, I'd never do that to you. I told you, didn't I? I'll keep you safe."

"You think that makes it okay?"

"Of course."

Shaking your head, you push away from him, turning your back to him. "Just leave me alone, Thanos. I want nothing to do with someone like you."

You walk away without looking back, unaware of the gaze that follows you.

-

"Hey, Senorita!"

Pausing in your conversation with Young-il and Gi-hun, you freeze, slowly turning your head over your shoulder to meet Thanos' gaze.

He's stood with his friends, Player 124 glaring at you from behind him, with a wide grin and those same wild eyes that made it clear he wasn't sober. You feel your shoulders tense, all too aware of your groups eyes watching the interaction between the two of you.

"If you need a group to join, I'll always be here!" He calls, pointing his finger right at you as he winks.

Swallowing thickly, you turn, choosing to ignore him.

All the boys look at you, waiting for you to say something. You do, just not about Thanos, eager to move on from Thanos' embarrassing and loud flirt.

"If they call about five, we just need to find people...-"

-

You'd gotten separated from Dae-ho.

Somewhere in the midst of running to a room, you'd been knocked to the ground by someone. They'd shoved past you without a single thought to you, and then the crowd of those desparate and panicked had separated you from your friend further.

Now, with tears in your eyes and your heart racing, you're frantically trying to find him or at least one of your friends, all whilst too aware of the time ticking away by the second.

It occurs to you that this might be it. That fall had been hard and your ankle was screaming something terrible right now. Even if you did find Dae-ho, you're not sure you could make it to him or a room in time.

The tears fall then, the seconds feel like agony and far too quick at the same time as you shake with the reality of your situation.

At least, what would've been your situation.

In the next second, a body crashes into you again, except instead of knocking you to the ground, you feel your feet lifted off the ground. A yelp leaves your lips in response, arms pulling you in a chest, confused, before you realize you're being hurdled right into a room.

The person who'd grabbed you was quick and suddenly, you're on your feet, in a room, with Thanos.

He shuts the door behind him and it locks instantly after.

He's panting, chest rising and falling as he turns to look at you, and you're just staring back at him with tears streaming down your cheeks and in disbelief. The echoes of gun shots that follow barely register in your mind as you meet his gaze.

"You saved me..." You breathe, stunned, voice a mere breathless whisper.

"I told you," he pants, offering a winded grin. "I'll keep you safe. I meant it."

The realization that it had in fact been Thanos that saved you is hard to believe and yet, you're faced with the true as he turns back to glance out the small window of the door.

"In the nick of time too," he laughs, somehow still overjoyed and finding humour in this situation. "I thought you and me were both dead there for a second."

Swallowing thickly, you hug yourself, still shaking and trembling from the situation as you shuffle on the spot. The action immediately pulls a cry from your lips as you stumble forward, tipping head first to the ground.

Thanos catches you before you fall.

"Wow," he chuckles, "you okay there, Senorita?"

The pet name that had annoyed you this entire time suddenly is annoying in a whole different way when you realize you wished it had been your name he'd said instead.

And that thought has you reeling even more.

"F-Fine," you wince, grabbing his arms that hold you. "I twisted my ankle when I got separated from...-oh no! Dae-ho! I didn't see if he he made it!"

The smile fades from Thanos face briefly at the mention of Dae-ho, still he helps you steady yourself and shakes his head. "Saw him get pulled into another room. He's fine. You're the one hurt."

Your face twists at that; "it's not his fault."

Thanos turns his face away, "never said it was."

It's clear he thinks it is.

You just huff, using his arms to help keep you upright. "I'm fine. It's just a twist."

Thanos eyes flicker to your ankle. "You can't walk."

Your lips part to say something, but just then the door clicks as it unlocks. You and Thanos spare one more glance at each other, before he's stepping forward to open the door, keeping an arm around your waist to help you walk out. You let him, trying to ignore the warmth in your chest at the action, limping out beside him.

Instantly, you hear your name being called.

You turn, seeing Dae-ho with Jung-bae, Gi-hun and Young-il in turn. There's a relieved smile on the formers lips and the rest look just as relieved.

"Thank God you're okay!"

You grin at them, forgetting who you're with for a second as you turn to them. "I'm glad you're okay too! When we got separated I wasn't sure..."

"I found Gi-hun," Dae-ho explains. "He hadn't been able to find a partner when Young-il, Jung-bae, you and me went off of our own. I tried to find you but..."

Nodding at them, you gesture to your partner. "Thanos found me," you explain, smiling nervously. "He... Well, he saved me. I wouldn't have survived otherwise."

The four of them look positively stunned but Thanos is beaming at the praise.

"Got my reward for it already too," Thanos smirks from beside you, pulling you closer. "Learned your name as well.., Reader."

He wiggles his brows at you and instantly, your cheeks warm. Leaning back from him, you shuffle back and to your surprise, he lets you slide out of his grip. Dae-ho is quick to help you, wrapping his arm around your waist like Thanos had whilst your group takes cautionary steps in front of you.

Just then, Player 124 comes bounding towards him.

"Thanos!"

With one final look your way, Thanos winks; "talk to you later, Reader." And with that, he walks off, joining Player 124's side as they laugh loudly in the otherwise gloom room.

All four turn to you, but you're too stunned to even begin explaining.

That, and you can't get rid of the fluttering race of your heart.

[yurinaa-world]

2# —"𝓝𝓸 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓮!"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Anaxa, Mydai, & Phainon x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: giving and receiving so many kisses

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫Part one: 💫“𝒩𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒!” (with Gallagher, Sunday, Aventurine, & Boothill)

💫𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓍𝒶 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

He wants to feel you, every part. Evening going as far as to have you like this: your body straddling on top of his lap, his arms around your waist holding you in place—and even pressing your bodies.

His face was right in front of your neck. They can’t resist himself from utterly smothering you—which is exactly what he’s doing in this movement. His lips land on your neck, and in some places, he gently taunts you with the sharp ends of his teeth with warm breath ringing your neck—making you shiver and gasp.

“Anaxa…” you gasp his name.

"Say it again," he murmurs his voice a low, velvety growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands trail slowly up your back, the roughness of his fingertips against your skin igniting sparks with every touch. His lips pressed heated kisses along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. 

“Say my name again…”

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, staring down to meet his eye.

 “Anaxa…”

You’ll actually be the death of him

💫𝑀𝓎𝒹𝑒𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, maybe even indulging too much.” 

Teasing Mydei was what you loved to do especially relating to indulging him with your love—which was constantly kissing him till he couldn’t think—but if you actually thought it would work, you are sadly mistaken.

Mydei’s lips curl into a sly grin, his amber eyes glinting with amusement as he leans closer, his face mere inches from yours while his arm around your waist pulls you right against him. "Oh, is that what you think?" he murmurs, his voice a smooth, velvety caress that sends a shiver through you. "If anyone’s indulging, it’s you. You can't seem to stop, can you?"

"And what if I don’t want to stop?" you counter, your voice steady, though your heart is racing. A smirk plays on your lips, daring him to make the next move. You press a little closer, your fingers tracing the line of his smile. "Then you’d better be prepared for the consequences," he says, his tone dropping to a low, teasing rumble. His arm tightens around your waist, holding you firmly in place as if to prove his point.

"How cruel, I just want to show my love and here you are threatening me," you whine, feigning innocence as your fingers slip into his hair.

Mydei's grin deepens in response to your comments, a sharp gleam in his eyes melting. He moves in even closer, his forehead almost brushing against yours, his breath warm on your lips. "Cruel?" he says, his tone low and playful. "If this is cruelty, then maybe I'm spoiling you far too much."

You scoff. "Are you going to spoil me? That's rich coming from the one who won't let me go," you respond, your fingertips playing with the tips of his hair

"And why would I let go?" he asks, his tone dangerously—he's about to eat you alive. 

"You keep walking into these traps, teasing me like this. I'm simply giving you exactly what you deserve."

💫𝒫𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑜𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

 Phanion is a sly one. 

He’s got quick hands, slipping himself through your defences and leaving you with an agape mouth—He finds it quite adorable whenever he takes something from you, watching your hands touch and eyes skim around your body to see what is missing. When you did find what was missing you would immediately start complaining as he held the thing in his hand high, teasingly.

Maybe he likes this even better than the causal swiping he does.

Your face lies red as you gaze up at him with that cute face while he takes advantage of you even more—his lips land on each part of your face, You're so cute! Honestly, those feelings that adults get when they see a child and they just want to smother them with love are the same type of love he feels for you now.

He feels and sees you break beneath him, creasing your cheek with a thump, before leaning in to kiss on the lips. Even when you try to push him away from embarrassment he gently moves your hand to the side before planting another kiss place on your face with his lips.

“Don’t be like that, let me love you till you can’t think anymore.” Giggling even more so when you just shatter into little pieces.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone softer now, almost reverent. “I’ll take care of you, even if it means stealing every bit of composure you have.”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

How you reward the JJK men after they won their game

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, sports au, college au, smut, mention of mental health, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, oral sex (male receiving), heavy exhibitionism, dirty talk, use pet names, mdni

Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

<< prev |

SATORU

“Fuck baby, that’s it…” Your large sweaty boyfriend pants underneath you. His hands are firmly wrapped around your hips, guiding your movements up and down his massive shaft.

The music and loud chatter from the after party is still raging on down stairs. Your college football team had managed to win the homecoming game against their rival team. It was a close game ending in 45-42. Your team had managed to kick a field goal as a last ditch effort to not go into overtime for a tiebreaker.

The party would soon be looking for the star quarterback to cheer him on, but little did they know he was too busy getting his fill of your pretty cunt.

The bed creaked beneath you two, and the air was filled with soft pants and hushed moans. Satoru was always on such a high after winning games like that. This was your second round. He barely got you through the door before he started on the first, taking you right up against the door — fast and hard to get the adrenaline out.

Now, it was time for the big celebration. “Sh-shit… so big, Toru. I-I can’t take it!!” You whined, but you and Satoru both knew that if he even thought about stopping right now, you’d probably cry from frustration.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was somehow heard over the blaring music. His shaft was coated in a thin slippery sheen of your arousal, easily impaling you over and over on his thick length.

“You can.. oh fuck- you can take it, sweets. Take it for me, yeah?” His pale blue eyes shined up at you as his skin was flushed. His white feathery hair was messily displayed on his head. He was always such a mess for you. “Just like thaat~ take it like a good girl. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You were nearly drooling from his filthy words. Satoru was always so chatty when he was getting close, and judging by the way his swollen tip was frantically diving in and out of you and how his hands were holding onto you, jerking you around with little concern — he’s very close.

Satoru removed one of his hands to gently rub tight circles onto your sensitive clit. “Let me fill you up. Please — just one more time. Fuck, one more time of me filling up my girl’s pussy.”

Your head was spinning. How could you say no to that when your whole body was consumed in pleasure by him? Satoru could ask you to do whatever in that moment, and you’d happily agree.

“Yes.. fuck yes, please Toru..”

With the mention of your little nickname, Satoru lets out a groan, and his length pulses inside your spongy walls, pumping you full of his cum. It’s a mere seconds later before you’re spasming on top of him — gasping for air as you clench down on his length.

You two take a moment to sober up in each other’s arms — panting for breath and whispering loving words of praise. “You looked good out there tonight.” You murmured dreamily into his chest.

“Aren’t you suppose to say I did good?” Satoru asks with a small laugh. His hand is entangled in your hair, gently rubbing your scalp as he softens inside you.

“Eh. Same thing.” You respond with a happy laugh. It’s not long after that someone is pounding on the bedroom door — telling you two to take a break so they can celebrate Satoru’s victory.

SUGURU

“Mmm, sh-shit, sweetheart.. Gonna make me cum early if you keep that up..” Suguru groans as his oversized veiny hand holds a tight grip on your hair.

There was something so exhilarating about sucking your boyfriend off in the locker room after every basketball game he won. Any of his teammates could walk in right now and see you on your knees in front of him, his back pressed against the cold metal lockers as he guides your head slowly up and down his length.

He’d let his teammates watch too if they walked in. You’re so pretty when you’re in your element. It’s truly a sight to behold, and he doesn’t mind giving his teammates a little morale boost by watching his pretty girlfriend giving him head.

He’d break their hand and put them out of a career if they tried to touch you though.

His eyes are fixated on you. He always gives you such a loving look while you work hard on your knees for him. He knows you’re trying so hard to fit all of him in your throat, but he’s just too big.

With every whine and gag, Suguru growls in approval. His hand continues petting your head. “That’s right… Gag on me, sweetheart. Doin’ such a good fucking job." He pants, leaning his head back against the locker.

He can't help but slowly pump his hips back and forth, forcing himself further down your throat because he loves seeing the tears that gather in your eyes. He loves seeing how completely ruined you are after sucking him off.

You look up at him with such a pitiful look he can't help but shove your head down as far as your throat will let him, and he unloads completely down your throat. He lets out breathy moans and growls as his cock twitches, spurting ribbon after ribbon of cum.

"Good girl." He praises huskily before yanking your head back so he can press his lips to yours, hungrily seeking out your taste.

Before you know it, Geto has you bridal style in his arms. "Just you wait, sweetheart. I'll return the favor once we're back in my dorm." He teases with a smug grin on his face. If you performance wasn't enough to motivate him to win each game, your thighs wrapped around his head definitely was.

NANAMI

The first time Kento took you to the press box after having won a game and railed you until you couldn't think anymore was out of sheer convenience and adrenaline.

Now? It was more of a tradition. You don't even know why the school trusted him with the keys to the press box, but you didn't question it.

Your boyfriend was normally so gentle and doting. The only time you got to see this more rough, primal side to him was after a big win, and Nanami's team just won the game needed to make the championship game.

"Mmmph... you feel so g-good, darling." He enunciates his praise with open mouth kisses to your neck. His hands have yours pinned above your head as he has your back laid out on the control desk. Your pretty white skirt was hiked up to your waist, and he was stood between your legs.

Your hands try helplessly to grab at the desk, but his thrusts were too heavy for you to grab onto anything. The wood creaked beneath each brutal movement. Your legs were already trembling, and he had just started.

The sounds of wet slapping noises filled the press box. Luckily, no one was in the stadium right now, or they'd see their star baseball player filling up his pretty girlfriend so full right now. If either one of you pressed the mic accidentally, the speakers would blare from the sounds of your whines and lovemaking.

"K-ken~!" You whimper as your body squirms beneath his, trying to find the smallest bit of refuge from his heavy cock bullying its way between your velvety walls, thumping obscenely against your womb.

He releases your hands with a small grunt, grabbing onto your hips to try and keep you still. His muscles ripple with each forceful thrust. He just has all this energy after his games that he has to release somehow, and this wasn't enough.

"Fucking... come here." He suddenly demands before grabbing you up and lifting you effortlessly off the desk. There's nowhere for you to run off to anymore. Soon, the entire rhythm is set by how fast and hard he can yank your body up and down his cock.

You're quickly reduced to a whiny puddle in his arms, only able to stutter out his name followed by various curses. His hips quickly jackhammer into you, pistoning deeper than he ever has before.

You can't even choke out a single word before you're spasming all over his cock. Your walls clamp down impossibly tighter around him like a vice, causing him to groan in satisfaction.

"Thaaat's it~ That's a good girl. Shh, I have you." Kento purrs in your ear, still fucking you through your orgasm to prolong your pleasure as much as he can. Soon, he could feel his balls tightening, demanding that he empty himself into you. "I'm gonna cum, sweet girl. You... you're gonna take it, right?" He pants.

One frantic nod and a pitiful hum of affirmation later, and Nanami's pulling you down onto his cock as hard as he can, making you take him as deeply as possible whit his cock pumps you full to the brim of his hot sticky cum.

"Did so good for me.." He praises as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple. "You're a work of art, darling."

CHOSO

"Cho, you were amazing out there!" You happily praised your boyfriend as he carried you in his arms. You knew he never stuck around long after games, figuring it was just in his introverted to want to leave so soon.

"Mhm.." He shakily hums, cradling you closely to his chest as he was on a mission: get you back to his dorm as soon as possible.

"Are you okay, baby?" You ask in a concerned tone, hoping he wasn't having another panic attack like he did after that one game.

Sometimes the adrenaline of winning and the concept of having everyone's eyes on him was too much for him to handle. He was beyond lucky to always have either you or Yuji by his side to talk him down from whatever had triggered his panic disorder.

"I'm okay." He hoarsely whispered. No, it wasn't anxiety that had him nearly trembling while carrying you. It was something else entirely.

*** *** ***

"You said I did good, right?" He huskily whispered as he pawed at your pants. He had you trapped beneath him on his bed. The room was dark, only warmly illuminated by a small bedside lamp. The scent of Choso's cologne as well as the natural musk from sweat was heavy in the air between you two.

"Yes, baby. You did so good." You hummed in agreement as your heart pounded against your ribcage. There was something off about Choso tonight. His nervous yet assertive energy had you feeling on edge.

"I deserve a reward then, right?" He asks, slowly tugging down your pants. He holds your gaze, looking for any sign of hesitancy or discomfort.

"I-" You weren't opposed to what he was suggesting, but honest, you were just taken aback. Your normally sweet and loving boyfriend was trying his best to be almost condescending towards you. "What are you wanting as a reward, Cho?"

Now, it's Choso's turn to nervously gulp. He's sweating even more now -- so incredibly nervous to directly tell you what he wants more than anything in the world right now.

"I want you to sit on my face." He finally blurts out like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"You want me... to sit on your face... as a reward?" You question.

He eagerly nods, looking like an excited puppy.

You can barely get out the word 'okay' before he's tugging his hair out of the messy buns he had it in. His strong arms grab ahold of you and roll to where he's on his back, and you're straddling his chest.

He's put a lot of thought into this. In fact, he's fucked his fist more times than he can count to the thought of you riding his face, using him for your pleasure.

"Cho- my p-panties aren't even off!" You squirm to release yourself from his grip, but he just hauls you up closer to his face.

"Leave them." He demands lowly, looking up at you with lust-blown dark eyes.

... and that's how you end up marathon cumming on your boyfriend's face more times than you can count... as a reward for him.

TOJI

Win or lose, Toji bends you over and fucks you hard and fast in the penalty box after every hockey game.

Even if his team won the game, he still usually has so much pent up aggression to where he needs to let out some steam, and your pretty pussy is the perfect punching bag for his cock.

"T-toji-! Slow down-" You choke out in a whine. Your cheek is pressed up against the glass as his hands are wrapped around your waist, completely ravaging you from behind. You can feel your tears smearing against the penalty box, and your legs are starting to tremble. It's hard enough trying not to slide around on the ice.

Toji was seething. He had sat a good portion of the game in the penalty box for fighting one of the opposing players.

Apparently, the opposing team had a little strategy to get the best hockey player, Toji, out of the game, which included goading him about his pretty little girlfriend.

Not surprisingly, Toji was quick to take the bait and nearly tried to stomp on the fucker who dared to utter your name.

"You want me to slow down?" He laughs as his hips continue their frantic rampage. "You don't like it when I'm mean to you? Don't be a liar, girl. Your fucking pussy's trying to clamp down on me. 'm starting to think she won't ever let me go."

And the worst part is, he's right. You're uncontrollably fluttering around him, leaking all around his cock and even dribbling onto the ice because your body loves how rough he is.

You're crying now out of sheer pleasure and overstimulation, unable to even choke out a response. Luckily for you, your boyfriend isn't a complete monster, and he hunches over your back, wrapping his big thick arms around you so you don't have to worry about slipping and falling.

"Answer me, girl." He grunts, using his new position to pinch on one of your nipples. "You love this shit, don't you? Say it."

"I love it-!" You cry out, allowing yourself to be free and vulnerable in the moment with him where no one else can hear you. "I love you-" You add as you don't have the mental capacity to hold yourself back.

The sudden warmth of your confession has Toji's hips stuttering. For once in his life, he's off balance. In a quick movement, Toji sits down on the bench, and he slams you right back down onto his lap, his cock impaling you on your way down.

"I'm gonna ruin you, doll." He growls into your ear, wrapping a hand around your throat as he pins your back to his chest. His hips rock back and forth, still pumping you so full. "You're mine -- mine to ruin. I fucking love you."

He came to the realization of his own feelings when he was ready to risk it all - his place on the team, his hockey scholarship, his freedom over some sad sack of shit who spoke your name in a foul way.

SUKUNA

Sukuna’s a little deviant when it comes to his rewards.. As soon as the kicker scores the last field goal needed for his team to win, Sukuna is charging out to the stands with a face of stone.

People literally make way for him, terrified of the way he looks. Plus, they all saw what a monster he was out on the field. It doesn’t take a genius to know not to fuck with him.

The only person who doesn’t move or dodge him is you. You give him the biggest hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and praising him for how well he did out on the field tonight. I mean, he only crushed three peoples’ ribs tonight. He was learning how to control his temper.

He doesn’t respond to your praise, only giving you a grunt before he unceremoniously slings you over his shoulder. He’s come to claim his prize of the night.

No one notices you two slip off into the darkness of the night — far away from the Friday night lights. Sukuna carries you out to where some random person’s car is parked, and he can’t resist himself anymore.

It’ll be a while before anyone makes it out to their cars anyways.

Bending you over the hood, you quickly start to protest and squirm, whining about how you will be caught, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to be listening.

“Be good.” He demands in a low grumble as his oversized fingers hook into your waistband, pulling your shorts and panties down around your knees in one tug.

“Sukuna-“ You plead once more, but as soon as his fat fingers swipe across your cunt, gathering your arousal, you know you’re done for.

“Hm? What is it?” He asks with obvious amusement. He finds it cute how you still deny liking being manhandled, but your pretty glistening pussy says otherwise.

“We can get in serious-“ Your breath hitches as his fingers delve inside, slotting right between your warm velvet walls. He’s already filling you up so good, you can’t even find your words anymore.

Sukuna just smirks, knowing he has you where he wants you. You’re so addicted to his touch, you’re willing to slut yourself out on the hood of some stranger’s car for him.

He’s convinced now. You were tailor made just for him. No one will complete him the way you do, and even if they did, Sukuna would end them just to find you again.

He pumps his fingers in and out of your slippery cunt while keeping his other hand firmly planted between your shoulder blades, forcing your face down onto the cool metal of the car beneath you.

His hips roll and grind against your backside, letting you feel his raging erection through the tight spandex pants of his uniform.

He’s working you so perfectly, curling his fingers just the right way and thrusting them so hard he’s practically lifting you up just by his fingers in your cunt. You’re nearly drooling against the car, letting out the most erotic sounds as you can’t be bothered to care anymore.

The pleasure builds and builds, and you start to hear voices in the distance. For whatever reason, it only heightens the experience.

“Come on. Give it to me.” Sukuna growls as he pushed his hips harder against your ass. “Give me what I want.”

“Suku-“ Your cry is quickly interrupted by Sukuna shoving his fingers into your mouth. His other hand is pounding your g-spot to no abandon, making fat tears well in your eyes.

He’s leaking gossamers of pre-cum in his pants, and he growls from the thought of making you lick it up later. For now, he’s going to indulge ruining you against this stranger’s car.

The voices grow a bit louder, and it all becomes so much. You cry out against Sukuna’s fingers as you feel yourself clamp down on his fingers, and the sound of water hitting the ground is heard as your release washes over you.

“Did you just- Fuck me..” He groans, seeing now as your clothes are soaked, and you even managed to get some on the car.

He withdraws quickly, knowing he’s running out of time, and he bends over, pulling your now soaked panties and shorts up over your waist. He makes sure to fasten your shorts before he throws you over his shoulder again to haul you to his dorm room.

“You’re going to do that for me again as soon as we’re home, flower.”

[sigilslvt]

JEALOUSY • DRABBLE

☣︎ Summary: The men all have their reasons for getting jealous around you. But how exactly do they react when they feel the threat is much more real? SURELY, they’re rational, right?

Includes: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Sukuna, and Nanami

Tags: fem! reader, friends to lovers, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, teasing, bulging, pussy eating, choking, breeding, praise, overstim, possessiveness, threatened gun violence, toxic possessiveness, car sex, dry humping, rough sex, squirting, pining, premature ejaculation, love bombing, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, true form sukuna, slight angst

WC: 13.1k

A/N: I cackled writing Choso’s, my poor baby is too precious 😩💜

༒︎ Gojo Satoru ༒︎

You pull into the gas station because, once again, your car is on its last leg. Satoru’s been absolutely useless this entire car ride, lounging like some kind of overgrown housecat, sunglasses crooked on his nose, humming the most obnoxious song he can think of just to get under your skin. His long legs are kicked up on your dashboard like he’s king of the world.

“Finally, a pit stop,” he says, stretching dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d just run us out of gas for fun. You know, to create a bonding moment.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, putting the car in park. “Stay in the car. Not that I have to tell you that.”

He snickers, not even looking up from whatever weird little game he’s playing on his phone. “Sure thing, sugar. Let me know if you need me to heroically pump the gas for you. I’ll try not to make it look too easy.”

You ignore him because giving him attention only makes it worse. You grab your wallet and step out, the cold air biting at your face as you swipe your card and get ready to fill the tank as quickly as possible so you can return to the cocoon of warmth that is your car. You’re in your own little zone, minding your business, when a voice breaks through the quiet.

“Hey there! Need some help?”

You glance up, startled, and see a guy walking over. He’s got that effortless, small-town-boy charm, the kind of guy who probably calls everyone “ma’am” and knows how to fix a tractor. He’s smiling, too— a little too widely, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s taking the pump right out of your hands.

“Oh, I had it,” you say, trying to be polite, but this guy is already on a roll.

“Nah, no worries,” he says, grinning. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to pump their own gas. It’s just not right.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between confusion and being impressed, because— wow. Is this really happening?

You glance back at your car, hoping Gojo hasn’t noticed, but as soon as your eyes land on his, you know you’re doomed. He’s sitting up now, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, staring at you both like he’s just been served the juiciest gossip of the year. His grin is growing and you’re sure he’s ready to put on a show.

Before you can stop him, he throws open the car door and steps out like he’s been summoned to the stage. He stretches unnecessarily— arms up, head tilted back, like he’s on the cover of a sports magazine— and then saunters over, hands in his pockets, looking way too pleased with himself.

The gas station guy looks up, noticing Gojo for the first time. His smile falters just a little. “Oh, uh… hey. Didn’t realize you had someone with you.”

Satoru’s already grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he says, waving a hand. “I’m just her boyfriend. You know, the adoring, perfect, doting one who pumps her gas all the time.”

You groan. “Toru—”

“What? I’m just saying, it’s cute that you’re trying to help, bud,” he says, turning back to the guy with a grin so wide it’s almost terrifying. “But this is kind of my thing. I know she’s just the sweetest, but she’s taken.You get it, right? Yeah, you get it.”

The poor guy blinks, clearly unsure if Satoru’s joking or about to start something. “Uh, yeah, no problem,” he mutters, handing the pump back to you like it’s radioactive. “You two have a good day.”

“Oh, we will!” Gojo chirps, giving him a little salute. “And hey, nice try, man. Better luck next time.”

The guy doesn’t even look back. He practically sprints back to the safety of the gas station, and as soon as he’s gone, you turn to Toru, crossing your arms and pursing your lips in annoyance.

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” he asks, feigning innocence as he leans casually against the car. “I was just making sure no one stole my job. You know how much I love pumping your gas.”

You gape at him. “You’ve never pumped gas in your life!”

“Exactly,” he says smugly. “That’s what makes this moment so special. It’s a sacred duty.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “You’re so insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders, “you love me. Isn’t that wild?”

“Whatever. I’m gonna get a snack. Want something?” you roll your eyes and start walking toward the station.

“I’ll come with, I’m craving something sweet.” he smirks with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite discern.

You raise a brow and walk with him, entering the gas station with the goal to grab a bag of chips and water, but the second you head for them, your hand is being trapped by Satoru’s and he’s tugging you toward the bathroom. You shoot him a look of confusion and annoyance, but he pays it no mind as he yanks you inside, closing the door behind you and pressing you against it.

“Toru, wha—”

“Told you I wanted something sweet, sugar. Bend over a little f’me.” he instructs, turning you so you’re facing the door. Your palms lay flat against it, trying to use it as leverage to turn yourself, but he presses your head to the door, too, his strong palm mushing your cheeks to it, sucking his teeth in disapproval.

“You’re insane, w-we’re in a gas station,” you try to reason with him, but his hand’s already shoved up your skirt and peeling down your panties. “Satoru, seriously…”

“Y’telling me to stop? She’s cryin’ f’me, though, I think she’ll be so sad if I don’t give her what she wants,” he purrs, getting to his knees and littering kisses on the fat of your ass. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re lost to him the moment he stuffs his face into your already dripping cunt, bucking yourself back against him and into the feel of his greedy tongue slipping between your folds and down, down, down to your clit. You can feel him smirking against you when he draws out a long shaky whine from your lips between your panting and while normally his cockiness would annoy you beyond belief, it instead turns you on more. And yet—

“Wh-hah— why couldn’t this wait until we got to the hotel?” you ask, nails scraping down the door when he plunges his tongue into your twitching hole.

He pulls away for a moment, spreading your ass to spit a glob of saliva between your folds and slurp it back up while sucking your clit. No answer. You huff and tremble, unsure of how long you’ll be able to keep yourself standing if he’s just gonna keep eating you like a man starved.

You try, you really do, to keep your voice down, but when his tongue hits that spot inside of your gummy walls, his hand between your thighs and thumb working on your clit, you can’t help but let your moans slip out. And oh, does that make him even more unrelenting. His thumb draws circles on your clit quicker and with more pressure, his tongue fucking into you as rough as can be. 

Your eyelids flutter closed, breathing labored as you feel that sweet sweet build up that you love so much. He knows what comes next and while normally, he’d see you to the end, this time he stops, earning a frown from your pretty face.

“Wh-why’d y—” you start.

“Y’mine, say it.”

“What? Toru, what’s—”

“Say. It. Say y’mine… say y’love me and I’ll make you cum so good, sugar, I promise.” he all but whines.

You don’t know why it needs to be said or what’s going on with him, but you’ll be damned if you let your orgasm escape you. With every second that passes, it runs from you, so you give him what he needs. “I’m yours, baby. I love you.” you coo.

“Again.” he huffs against your cunt, making your knees weak. He’s so close. You’re so close.

“I love y— hah,” your breath escapes you when he delves his tongue back into your pulsing hole. “Fuuuuck… I love you, I love you, I l— fuck!” your cunt tries it’s best to grip his tongue, but he fucks it into you with more force as you cum on it, losing strength in your legs and slumping down while your brain goes dumb with pleasure.

He holds you up, tongue slipping out of you and back to your clit, his head shaking side to side while he licks at your clit, overstimulating you beyond belief. All you can do is cry out for mercy, palms battering at the bathroom door as you raise your white flag.

With that, he frees you from the sweet torture, massaging your thighs and resting back on his ankles. “I’m pumping your gas from now on.” he huffs.

Coming back to your senses, you realize why he pulled this stunt off. “Satoru. Were you… jealous!?” you chuckle in disbelief.

“I’ve got nothing to be jealous about, it seems. What with the ‘I love you, I love you, I—’” he mocks you while standing up and you smack his arm.

“Sh-shut up.” You huff, pouting as he puts your panties back in place, dolling you back up and kissing your shoulder.

“Nope. But you’re gonna wish you had when the poor guy out there’s blushing redder than red.” he teases. Your eyes widen and you cover your mouth with your hand when you realize he had to have heard everything.

“You’re insane.” your voice is muffled by your hand.

“Insane’s one word for it,” he smirks. “I like to say I’m just crazy for you.”

Not long later, you’re climbing back into the car. Satoru follows, flopping into the passenger seat with a contented sigh like he’s just won a marathon.

As you pull out of the station, he stretches again, kicking his feet up on the dash like he owns the place. “You know,” he says casually, “you should really thank me. That guy was totally about to ask for your number. I saved you from a very awkward situation.”

And you could quite literally kill him.

༒︎ Geto Suguru ༒︎

The room is buzzing with conversation, a polite undercurrent of tension that doesn’t escape you. Cult leaders and their followers mill about in finely tailored clothes, exchanging calculated smiles and empty pleasantries. You’re trying your best to look engaged, but your thoughts keep drifting to Suguru.

He stands a few feet away, surrounded by a small circle of curse users, his tall frame commanding attention with ease. His black robes flow elegantly around him, his long hair tied back neatly. The faint smirk on his face, the calm way he speaks— it all oozes confidence. Control. Every now and then, he glances in your direction, his sharp eyes softening for just a moment before flicking back to the conversation.

You’re nursing a drink near the refreshment table when someone sidles up beside you.

“Ah, I was hoping I’d get the chance to meet you,” a smooth voice says.

You turn to see a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit, his polished appearance almost too pristine. His expression is warm but calculated, and his sharp eyes are already fixed on you. Takeda. You recognize him instantly— leader of a large, influential cult. Non-sorcerer, but powerful in his own way.

“Good evening,” you reply, forcing a polite smile. They have their role to play, Geto tells you, so you make sure to keep appearances with non-sorcerers despite their usual poor attitude toward you.

He smiles wider. “Good evening, indeed. I couldn’t help but notice you standing here all by yourself. It seems almost criminal for someone as lovely as you to be left alone at an event like this.”

You feel your cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment, a small flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend,” you say, gesturing subtly in Suguru’s direction.

Takeda follows your gaze and chuckles softly. “Suguru Geto. Of course. I’ve heard much about him.” His attention snaps back to you, and his smile turns almost wolfish. “I must admit, though, I’m surprised. I didn’t think someone so… captivating would end up with a man who seems so creepy… Besides, I’m sure he’s always so busy. Too busy to truly appreciate a beauty like you.”

Your face heats further, and you stammer, “He’s not too busy. He’s just—”

Before you can finish, he takes your hand in his and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. It’s old-fashioned, deliberate, and enough to leave you momentarily stunned. Not in awe, but in pure shock. He’s bold, you’ll give him that.

Your breath catches, and you feel a wave of heat rush to your face. You try to pull your hand back, but his grip is firm— not unkind, but enough to make you falter. You can’t ruin appearances by hurting him, so you allow it, praying he’ll give up soon.

“A pleasure meeting you,” he murmurs, his lips still ghosting over your skin.

And then you feel it— the air shifting suddenly. A heavy, familiar presence fills the space around you, and Takeda finally releases your hand. You glance over your shoulder to see Suguru a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on the two of you as he approaches.

“Takeda,” Suguru says smoothly, his tone light but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flip because you know better.

Takeda straightens and flashes a smile that’s far too confident. “Geto. What a pleasure to see you,” He gestures toward you. “I was just introducing myself to your lovely partner. She’s quite… enchanting.”

Suguru’s lips twitch, curving into a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m aware.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels too loud in the quiet. Suguru’s gaze flickers briefly to your hand before returning to Takeda.

“I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable,” he continues softly.

Takeda chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of how to respond. Geto’s not usually the type to be confrontational in public. It’s normally all smiles and politics for him, so this has Takeda stunned. “I meant no disrespect, of course.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully. “No disrespect… Of course not.” He tilts his head slightly, his smile sharpening. “But you’d do well to remember your place, Takeda. Admiration is one thing. Touching, however…” He trails off, his tone turning razor-sharp, dark eyes honing in on the poor man’s. “That’s dangerous, especially for someone like you.”

Takeda falters, his polished demeanor cracking for just a moment. “I— I’ll keep that in mind,” he mutters before excusing himself and retreating into the crowd.

As soon as he’s gone, Suguru turns to you, his sharp expression softening slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looking at you in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“You seemed… flustered,” he says finally, his voice quiet but probing.

Your cheeks burn, and you look away. “I wasn’t, he just caught me off guard,” you mumble.

Suguru steps closer, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Are you sure? Because from where I was standing…” He pauses, his voice dropping. “It looked like you didn’t mind it.”

“Suguru—”

“Did you like it?” he interrupts, his tone impossibly soft, almost vulnerable. “A weakling holding your hand, kissing it like that… Did you enjoy it?” 

Your heart twists at the faint frown tugging at his lips, the rare glimpse of uncertainty in his usually composed expression. That’s when you recognize the look in his eye. It isn’t anger, it’s fear. Insecurity. Things you never expected to see from him.

“No,” you say quickly, reaching for him. “Of course not. I could never, baby.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for any sign of dishonesty. Finally, he exhales softly and takes your hand in his, his thumb brushing over the spot where Takeda’s lips had been.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm.

He leads you down a hallway, wanting to be away from the noise and chatter of the convention. When he pushes open the door to an empty room and pulls you inside, the silence feels almost deafening in comparison to everything on the outside.

Suguru closes the door and turns to face you, his dark eyes heavy with emotion. Without a word, he cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice raw.

“Say what?” you ask softly, your hands resting on his chest.

“That you’re mine,” he breathes, his forehead pressing against yours. “That you wouldn’t leave me for some monkey.”

Your heart aches at the quiet desperation in his tone. “I’m yours, of course I’m yours.” You whisper, your hands curling into his robes. “Always.”

The next thing you know, his lips are melting yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more insistent. When he pulls back, his breathing is uneven, and his eyes are darker than ever.

“Again,” he all but whines, his lips trailing down to your jaw. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice racing as your heart squeezes. “Only yours.”

He exhales sharply, his hands sliding down to grip your waist. “Good,” he whispers, moreso to himself. “Good… because I need you.”

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses you again, this time with a desperation that feels like he’s trying to erase every trace of Takeda’s touch from your skin.

His nails dig into your sides, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting all that you have— all that you are. He’s needy, moving to hoist you up and hook your legs around his waist.

Your dress rides up your thighs and he wastes no time gripping at the fat of them, subtly rolling his hips into you in a way that tells you he may just be doing it subconsciously. Gasps are shared between your lips as he kisses you a few more times before moving to swipe his tongue up your neck, stopping just under your jaw and sucking a big fat hickey into the crevice.

It feels so good that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working their way down, down, down to your ass, pulling you into him with every roll of his hips. You feel how hard he is even through his robes, unable and unwilling to stop yourself from sliding the top of his gojogesa off his broad shoulders. You’re dipping your head down to pepper kisses all over his shoulder while he marks you up, your nails leaving marks of their own on his skin from how hard you’re gripping him.

You know what this is. Know what he needs. You’d be a fool to stop him from taking it. “Sugu… here.” You tell him, emphasizing your words by rolling your hips in tandem with his.

You swear you hear him growl as he tears his lips from your throat and grips your underwear on one side to tear them off, your eyes widening at the action. Suguru’s normally a calm, calculated man, even when he makes love to you, everything is suave and he’s always in control, but now? Now, he’s become someone entirely different. Someone needy. Someone eager to prove a point. To stake a claim.

“Here, angel.” Is all you hear before your mouth is stuffed with your own underwear and– when did he whip his dick out? You’ve got no idea, but it’s plugged into you before you can react, a long and grateful groan just spilling from Suguru’s lips like he’s finally laying in bed after a long day of hard labor. He’s home. Your head falls back against the door and he uses the opportunity to attack your neck again, littering the skin with kisses, licks, and the occasional bite.

He’s got no rhyme or rhythm in his thrusts, he simply ruts into you with a force that has the door shaking, the metal bar rattling and making your stomach lurch with fear at the fact that it could so easily be pushed for you two to end up on display for everyone. The fear falls away soon, however, replaced with nothing but pleasure when he’s targeting that wonderful gummy little bullseye that makes you go dumb on his cock.

Your eyes start searching for something in the back of your head, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth and soaking your underwear as your shaky moans are muffled by the fabric. And you don’t know when it started, but your ears tune into Suguru whining the same thing repeatedly. “Mine, all mine, mine, mine, mine—” again and again and again with every punctuated thrust targeting your poor cervix.

Your nails rake down his back, hoping to find some sort of balance to compensate for the fact that your legs are beginning to ragdoll, no strength left in them as they flop by his sides with every thrust. Except, you don’t have to worry. No, his grip on you is bruising, he never wants to let you go.

And you wish you could see his face in this moment. See how he looks when he’s so adamant about proving it to himself that you’re his. Before you know it, you’re snaking a hand into his hair and tugging his head back, earning a needy little whine from his puffy lips before he’s looking at you. Oh, is he looking at you. Like you’re the world. Like you’re salvation. His brows are drawn tightly together, a pout on his lips that tells you he’d be nothing without you. God, you wanna kiss him. Wanna tell him a million times over that you’d never even think of another.

The look on your face tells him exactly what you want, you think, because in the next instant, he’s tearing the underwear from your mouth and crushing his lips into yours. His thrusts have rhythm now, his hips fucking into you with urgency. Every time his thick cock slips past your puffy folds, you’re inched closer, oh so closer to cumming and your stomach draws tight at the feeling. He’s chasing both of your orgasms, not once missing that spongey little spot that makes you see stars as he pounds you into the door, your voice sounding out to God knows how many people are in the hallway while you kiss him, your drool now slipping down his chin.

You hear him groan into the kiss as his hips start to falter– he’s close. And yet, while his rhythm is lost, his force is worse. Every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge until you’re right there. “I love you,” he whines against your lips before breaking away and letting his head fall back. “I love you, I love you, I. Fucking. Love. You.” He punctuates the last repetition with a thrust for each word, cumming on the very last one along with you, who couldn’t help but cum at the words he’s never said before.

You two had been together for a year. A whole year and not once had Suguru ever uttered the words. You always knew he wasn’t an emotional man, so you never expected to hear the words. You felt it, though. His care for you. It was in his actions. How he never forgot an important date, how he would always bring home food or a treat or flowers for you, how he loathed being away from you for any given reason. And yet, the words still shock you.

He ruts into you a few more times before he stills, nothing to be heard except for your breaths shared between each other until his eyes go wide– perhaps in realization of what he’s just said, and he kisses you. Softer this time. More sure of himself. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that he’s confessed.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his hands tightening on your thighs. “Don’t let anyone else touch you like that again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. Not angry, not upset, just… needy.  “I don’t care who it is. I won’t stand for it. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I just can’t bear to see that again.”

You smile and offer a tired chuckle, brushing his hair back from his face. “Y’know, for someone usually so calculated and knowing, you sure are stupid,” you shake your head softly. “I love you, too. More, actually.”

His lips press against your temple, and he exhales slowly, the tension in his body finally easing. “Not possible,” he murmurs again, his voice soft. You can hear his smile in it. “Nobody’s ever loved anyone like I love you.”

༒︎ Toji Fushiguro ༒︎

You aren’t sure if dragging Toji to your high school reunion is a brilliant idea or the worst decision you’ve made all year. On one hand, you know he can charm the socks off anyone when he wants to, all cocky smirks and lazy grins that send shivers down your spine. On the other hand, he doesn’t exactly thrive in situations that involve niceties and polite small talk—especially with people he doesn’t give a shit about. Still, you’ve convinced him, mostly because you want to show him off. He’s hot, and he’s yours. What’s the point if you can’t gloat a little?

Toji is surprisingly well-behaved for most of the evening. He nurses a glass of bourbon with his usual swagger, leaning against the bar and throwing you looks that tell you that he’ll be waiting for you to make this worth his while later. He even manages to avoid scaring off too many of your old classmates, though you catch the occasional side-eye when he’s not so subtle about telling them to fuck off. Everything’s going smoothly.

That is, of course, until he notices you talking to him.

You don’t mean to bump into your ex-boyfriend. Really, you don’t. But there he is, standing near the drink table with the same easy grin you remember from your teenage years. He calls your name, and before you can stop yourself, you’re smiling back and walking over. Toji’s gaze burns into your back the entire way.

“Wow, you look amazing,” your ex says, his tone warm but casual. It’s just an observation— a compliment between old friends, but you can just feel the way Toji’s teeth grind from across the room.

“Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, keeping your tone light. The conversation flows easily, filled with harmless reminiscing about old high school antics. Nothing romantic. Nothing serious. Just memories of embarrassing pranks, favorite teachers, and the god-awful cafeteria food.

But you know Toji. You don’t have to look to know he’s watching, his sharp green eyes narrowing every time your ex laughs or steps just a little too close. You can practically hear the internal dialogue: “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?”

Then your ex does it. The thing you know is going to push Toji over the edge.

He hugs you.

It’s quick and friendly, a casual embrace to say goodbye. But as soon as your ex’s arms wrap around you, you feel your body being eaten up by your boyfriend’s shadow. You pull back quickly, about to turn to Toji to defuse whatever storm is brewing, but it’s too late.

He moves quickly— silent and deadly. One second, he’s leaning against the bar. The next, he’s standing behind you, his presence towering and suffocating. His hand rests on the back of your neck, deceptively casual as he leans in close.

“I dunno why yer touchin’ her, pal,” Toji drawls, his voice low and dangerous, “but don’t let it happen again.”

Your ex blinks, clearly startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I… sorry? I was just saying goodb—”

Toji’s hand moves and you worry he may actually hit the poor guy. “Oh, shit.”

“You gonna say goodbye, then get the fuck outta here,” Toji says, his grin sharp and feral as he subtly lifts his sweater just enough to reveal the gun tucked into his waistband. “Before I decide you don’t need yer legs.”

Your ex’s eyes go wide and he stumbles over himself to retreat, mumbling something about it being nice to see you before practically sprinting away. You don’t even have time to scold Toji before security is suddenly very interested in the two of you.

Five minutes later, you’ve been escorted out of the venue, Toji’s hand resting possessively on the small of your back. You wait until you’re alone in the parking lot to whirl on him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, smacking his arm. “You pulled a gun on him?!”

“Relax, doll,” Toji says, his grin infuriatingly smug. “I didn’t even take it out.”

You groan, stomping toward the car. You reach for the passenger door, but before you can open it, his arm shoots out, blocking your path.

“Nah,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Yer sittin’ in the back with me.”

“What, am I in trouble now? Gonna spank me?” you ask sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Toji doesn’t answer. He just opens the back door and shoves you inside, sliding in next to you and shutting the door behind him. You cross your arms, giving him a pointed glare. It doesn’t take long before he’s sulking.

He leans back against the seat, legs spread wide, and huffs like an overgrown child. “Wasn’t jealous,” he mutters.

You snort. “Sure you weren’t.”

“Ain’t funny,” he grumbles, glaring at you.

You can’t resist pushing him just a little further. “If you’re not jealous, then you won’t mind if I go back inside to grab his number. Y’know, for old times’ sake.”

His head snaps toward you, his jaw tightening. In one quick motion, he turns, caging you against the seat with his arms. “The fuck you just say?”

“You heard me,” you say, smirking. “If you’re not jealous, it shouldn’t bother you.”

Toji’s eyes narrow, and the tension in the car shifts again, but this time it isn’t anger. It’s something else entirely. He leans in until his nose brushes yours, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“Ain’t about bein’ jealous,” he says, his breath warm against your lips. “Ain’t nobody else touchin’ my girl. Don’t care what reason they have.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as his lips ghost along your jawline. His touch is possessive, his grip firm enough to leave no room for argument. You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Toji…” you start, but he cuts you off with a low chuckle.

“Nah, you’ve been mouthin’ off thinkin’ yer cute,” he says, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Time to shut that pretty mouth o’ yours.”

He's enjoying himself, towering over you in the confined space of the car, the sunlight streaming in from the windows only highlighting the wolfish grin that spreads across his face.

“You’re so—”

"Hm?" He hums, his hand already snaking down your side, easily slipping under the hem of your dress as he plants a kiss onto the side of your neck. "Y' got somethin' t' say, doll?" 

His fingers dance on your skin, inching closer and closer to the spot he knows will make you weak in the knees. He's toying with you, getting a kick out of your restraint as you try to formulate words again. But before you can finish even a syllable, he cuts you off.

"Save it, sweetheart. Was gonna be nice 'nd all when we got home t’night, but you had to go and run that pretty mouth with yer ex." He growls lowly in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “So while yer getting yer brains fucked stupid, I want you t’remember… this is on you.”

With a rough grasp, he flips you onto your stomach in the backseat, your dress riding up your ass as he yanks your panties down with a swift tug, the cool air hitting it and making your hole clench around nothing. His dick is hard and straining against his pants, pre seeping through to form a dark spot. The anticipation of what's to come has your breath hitching, heat pooling between your legs. He leans over you, the weight of his body pressing down onto yours.

He’s rutting against your ass, one hand sliding up to toy with one of your nipples while his other hand massages your hip. God, if you could see the needy little look on your face right now, then he’d finally get you to understand just why he’s so addicted to you. You’re just so gluttonous for him. Always wanting more, more, more. And of course, he’s always willing to give.

But right now isn’t the moment for giving. No, he needs to take. To take and take and take until there’s no more left of you to give to anyone but him. Always him. He backs away just enough for him to unzip his pants, his cock springing free. His hand finds it immediately, stroking himself in slow, teasing motions, hard length throbbing against your bare ass. There's a devilish grin on his face as he utters, "Gonna show ‘er how much she needs me."

Without waiting for a response, he aligns himself with your sobbing cunt, teasing your folds with his thick head just swiping back and forth and mixing his pre into your skick. He groans at the contact, his hand gripping your hip tighter. Suddenly, with a swift thrust, he plunges himself deep, his girth stretching you so mind numbingly good that you fear you may just pass out. The thing is, he’s barely in, but the sensation is already overwhelming, causing you to gasp and buck your hips.

He wishes you knew how fucking good you feel. Wishes you knew that whenever he fucks you, that tight ring of resistance tries so hard to push him out. That is, until he’s fucked his fat tip into you a few times, because then you’re practifally sucking him in. He knows the stretch is a lot. Knows you’re sore hours later without fail and yet, you still beg for more. Just like now.

Words are failing you, but your look is enough. You want more. Need more than just his tip. You wanna be broken in. And so he does. He feeds you inch after inch of him, sitting up and pausing at the halfway point to admire the way your cunt looks swallowing him so eagerly. He grasps at the globes of your ass, jiggling them and biting his lower lip at the God granted sight.

His free hand moves to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair before he grips tightly and brings your head up so he can press your face into the window. And just light that, he fucks the rest of himself into you roughly, grunting.

"Fuckin’— take it," he rasps out, taking a brief moment to adjust to the feeling of your tightness around him, unable to resist a little moan of his own. Then, he starts moving. Slow and punishing at first, then picking up speed with the same punishing force. Each thrust is precise and purposeful, perfectly hitting that spot inside you that makes you feel fuzzy. He's unabashedly vocal too, grunting and groaning with each delicious slide in and out of your wetness. "Fuck... y' take my cock so good..." he compliments, pushing your face harder into the back window. 

Easing up on his grip on your waist, he rolls his hips, grinding against your ass before pulling out for just a moment to slap his tip against your folds, watching as your cunt twitches and then thrusting back in again. His actions are deliberate and controlled, meant to stir you up and drive you to your limit. 

"Please baby, please, please, please..." you moan helplessly, your words swallowed up by the sounds of your bodies slapping together and his grunts of pleasure. But he merely chuckles darkly, gripping your hip and pressing your face against the window harder as if to anchor himself and punish you at the same time, his thrusts never faltering. 

"Y' can gimme more than that," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down, teeth nibbling at your exposed neck. 

He slows almost to a stop, but the slight shallow thrusts still feel so overwhelmingly good you think you’re gonna go insane. “Y’really think she could live without me? Mmm mm, no, she needs me. I’m the only one who can stuff this greedy little pussy the way she needs to be stuffed. Isn’t that right, baby? Say it f’me.”

“F-fuck! Toki, gonna—” SMACK!

“Not talkin’ to you, princess. Talkin’ to her.” He delivers a pointed thrust into you to emphasize the fact that he’s genuinely talking to your cunt in his pussydrunk state.

Your sure he’s left a permanent handprint because of how hard he spanked your ass. The sting that lingers where his palm landed makes your cunt twitch and ache around him, which he considers to be answer enough. “S’what I fuckin’ thought. Atta fuckin’ girl, yes baby.” He groans, quickening the pace ever so slightly and beginning to pull you back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Talkin to an ex, y’must have wanted to get yerself fucked stupid, hm? Is that what you wanted? To be fucked like this?” He’s talking, but you can tell it isn’t for actual answers, no, it’s more to himself. He’s fucked out. So close to the edge.

The thrusting quickens, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "Cum f' me, doll," he commands, his voice dropping an octave, "show me how good I make y' feel. Only me. And then I’m gonna breed yer cute cunt so good." With that, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, aiming for that spot inside you that will unravel you completely.

That’s when you finally let loose, the coil inside your tummy snapping and letting you feel so much pleasure that you’re moving your ass back into him with a force that’s unmatched, just swallowing him deep into you over and over again. And that does it for him— his cum spurting inside you and filling you so good.

He kisses you so hungrily you feel you may just lose your breath entirely and pass out. His hands are holding you in place so you don’t fuck back onto him, because he knows if you did, he’d break you.

Toji leans back, smirking at the sight of you, his thumb brushing your swollen lips.

“You done throwing your little tantrum?” you tease, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

He glares at you, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re real fuckin’ funny, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.” And deciding to drop the bombshell now, you lean back against the seat and say casually, “By the way, he’s married. To a man. They have two kids.”

Toji freezes, his expression shifting from smug to incredulous in seconds. He blinks like a cartoon character in shock, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“Yup,” you say, your grin widening. “Your big, scary display of dominance? Totally unnecessary.”

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. The look on his face is so priceless you wish you could brand it into your memory. “Tch. Coulda fuckin’ said somethin’ sooner.”

“And miss all the fun?” You laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Before you can say anything else, he’s on you again, his hands roaming as he mutters, “Gonna make you pay for makin’ me start a scene.”

You laugh, the sound cutting off into a gasp as his hands find their mark. “I made you start a scene? Oh, this I gotta hear.” You say, your voice breathless but still teasing.

“Keep talkin’, doll,” he says, his grin turning wicked. “See where it gets ya.” And then his lips are finding yours again. Just like that, the argument is forgotten, lost in the haze of his possessive, consuming affection.

༒︎ Choso Kamo ༒︎

The mall is crowded, loud with the hum of chattering voices and echoing footsteps. It isn’t your favorite place to hang out, but your best friend had begged you to come along. Somehow, Choso ended up tagging along too, though you weren’t sure why. He wasn’t exactly the mall type, after all— too quiet, too detached from the bustling energy of human spaces like this.

You glance over your shoulder at him now, and there he is, just like you’d expect. He’s trailing a few steps behind, hands shoved into the sleeves of his robe, his dark eyes drifting lazily over the crowd. His usual stoic mask is firmly in place, making him seem untouchable to anyone passing by. But you know better than that. Beneath the unapproachable aura, Choso is awkward— painfully shy even. He’s still figuring out how to interact with humans, still trying to understand what it means to live in a world like this.

And for some reason, he’s decided you’re his safe space.

You smile to yourself, turning your attention back to the task at hand. Your friend had told you they’d meet you at the bookstore, but they’re running late, so you decide to wander into one of the nearby shops to kill time.

Choso doesn’t follow. You assume he’s probably going to find a dark corner to tuck himself into. 

What you don’t realize is that he does follow. At a distance. He’s used to watching from the sidelines, content to let you move through your world without interference. He doesn’t mind, in fact, he learns from watching how you interact with people, animals, media, and the likes. He learns about the world, but more importantly, he learns about you.

His eyes are on you now, but just seconds later, they shift. There’s a new focus, a new target. Him.

The guy behind the counter at the little boutique you walked into. He’s tall, clean-cut, and obnoxiously friendly. At first, Choso thinks nothing of it. It’s not like he can stop every stranger from talking to you. But as the guy’s gestures become more animated, and his laughter gets a little too familiar, something shifts in Choso’s chest.

He wishes he could hear whatever it is he’s saying that has you so giddy. Wishes he could just— wait, what?

The guy leans forward across the counter, his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, maybe a receipt, maybe a bag, Choso doesn’t care. Because what he does next is what hammers the nail in the coffin. His hand moves to the top of your head and he ruffles your hair, making you laugh. It’s the casual intimacy of the gesture that makes his stomach churn. He knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He knows. But he can’t help the way his jaw tightens, or the way his fingers curl into fists in his sleeves.

You’re still smiling at the guy. You’re laughing. And he hates it.

His mind spirals before he can stop it. The scene plays over and over in his head, each time twisting into something worse. What if you like this guy? What if you’re into someone who can flirt with ease, someone who doesn’t stumble over their words or overthink every little thing?

What if you don’t want him?

Choso feels a sharp pang in his chest, like something fragile has cracked. He’s been so careful, so guarded with his feelings. He thought he could keep them tucked away, safe from rejection, safe from ruining this. But now? Now he feels them slipping through the cracks, raw and unmanageable.

He looks away, leaning back against the wall outside the store. His heart’s racing, though he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he has any claim over you. You’re your own person, free to talk to whoever you want. He’s just… He’s just the weird half-curse with no idea what his place is in this world who follows you around and doesn’t know how to say what he feels. But what if he did say it?

The thought hits him like a lightning bolt, sudden and electrifying. He’s scared, sure— terrified, actually, but the idea of staying silent is worse. He doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, not without at least trying.

So he waits.

When you finally walk out of the shop, you’re holding a small bag, a content smile on your face. You spot him instantly, standing off to the side like he’s been there the whole time.

“Hey, sorry that took so long. They had some really cute stuff in there,” you say, holding up the bag as if to explain.

Choso doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flick to the shop behind you, then back to your face. He doesn’t ask about your purchases. Instead, he asks, “Who was that?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to,” he says, his tone as flat as ever, but there’s something behind it—a tension you can’t quite place.

“Oh, him? That’s just my friend from school. He works here part-time,” you explain, shrugging. “I didn’t even know before now.”

Your words are casual, but they allow Choso a wave of relief. That relief is short-lived, however, replaced almost immediately by a surge of determination. This is his chance. His moment to say what he’s been holding back.

“Can I… talk to you for a second?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You tilt your head, curious but not concerned. “Of course. What’s up?”

He gestures for you to follow him, leading you away from the bigger crowd and toward a seating area deeper in the mall that’s less populated. Once you’re there, he turns to face you, his hands still buried in his sleeves.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He’s searching for the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, what comes out is raw and unfiltered.

“I thought you liked him,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink, surprised. “What? No, Choso, I told you, he’s just a friend.”

He nods, but his gaze drops to the floor. “I know. It’s just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” you ask gently.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes searching yours. “This. Any of this. Being around people. Trying to figure out how I’m supposed to feel, how I’m supposed to act.”

You wait, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“But with you… it’s different,” he continues, his voice steady despite the nerves etched into his expression. “I don’t feel lost when I’m with you. I feel… human.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t interrupt.

“And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I like you. I… I think I’ve liked you since the moment we met. I just didn’t know how to say it— didn’t know what it was. B-But I do, now.”

You stare at him, his confession hanging in the air between you. For a moment, he thinks he’s made a mistake. That he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross.

But then you smile.

Not just any smile— the kind of smile that makes him feel like the world isn’t so complicated after all.

It’s all you can do because his confession doesn’t catch you off guard, not really.

You’ve always known.

“Cho,” you say softly, stepping closer, “I know. I’ve known for a while.”

His eyes widen slightly, his lips parting in surprise. “You… knew?”

You nod, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle, you know. But I didn’t say anything because I wanted to give you time. Time to figure out what you wanted, how you felt.”

He’s silent, staring at you like he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or mortified.

“For what it’s worth,” you continue, your voice warm, “I like you, too. Just as you are. You don’t have to change or be anyone else for me, Choso. I like you for you.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s now a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something more raw. His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and when he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Can I… kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, not because you don’t want him to, but because of the way he asks it, so tentative and earnest.

“Of course,” you say, your tone gentle but steady.

But he hesitates, his eyes darting to the small crowd around you. His voice drops lower, almost shy. “Not here. Can we… go somewhere else?”

You bite back a smile at how endearing he looks, his cheeks tinted pink as he avoids your gaze. “Come on,” you say, nodding toward a quieter hallway where the restrooms are tucked away.

He follows you like a shadow, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he keeps his head down. When you reach the single-occupancy restroom, you push the door open and step inside, holding it for him as he follows. The door clicks shut, and the noise of the mall fades into a distant hum.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the tension in the small space thick enough to cut with a knife. Choso shifts nervously, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… don’t know how start,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you reply, your smile soft and steady. “Just follow my lead.”

You step closer, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. He freezes for a moment, his dark eyes wide and uncertain, but when you lean in, his lids flutter shut.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips warm and soft against yours. But as you deepen it, something shifts. It’s like a switch flips inside him, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, gripping you like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

He grows bolder with each passing second, his fingers wandering over your arms, your back, your hips, your ass. There’s a desperation in the way he touches you, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you all at once. Finally, he pulls you flush against him, his entire arms wrapped around you, one hand gripping your hip and the other on your shoulder.

You can’t help but chuckle against his lips, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “Easy, Cho,” you murmur, your tone teasing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face flushed as he loosens his grip, but only slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to stop.”

Your smile softens, and you press a light kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to feel nervous.”

You kiss him again, this time letting him lead you. As things heat up, he starts to get carried away again, his hands roaming with a mix of urgency and inexperience. His kisses grow hungrier, his breath ragged as he presses closer, his body practically trembling against yours.

Suddenly his whole body stiffens and a low, unsteady sound akin to a whine escapes him before he pulls back, his face burning with embarrassment. He avoids your gaze, his hands falling away as he stammers, “I— I’m sorry. I dunno what— I didn’t want to stop, I—”

You pull back further to see a dark patch beginning to form even on the purple cloth that rests in front of his robes, realizing what happened. Your perfect Choso just came in his pants from kissing you. You can’t stay silent much longer for fear of making him more embarrassed, so you hush him gently, cupping his face and tilting it so he has no choice but to meet your eyes. “Cho, it’s okay,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is all new for you, and that’s perfectly fine.”

He swallows hard, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment or disappointment. When he finds none, his shoulders relax just a little.

“You mean that?” he asks softly.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Of course, I do. We’ll take things slow, okay? There’s no rush.”

He nods slowly, the tension in his posture easing as he lets out a shaky breath. After a moment, he looks at you again, his expression soft but serious. “Is this… what love is?” He closes his eyes, his lips curving into the faintest smile as he leans into your touch. And in that quiet, stolen moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in its place.

༒︎ Ryomen Sukuna ༒︎

The room is dimly lit, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. You’re lying back on the exam table, your dress pulled up over your growing belly. The monitor hums softly as the sonographer, a man with overly polite eyes and a soothingly gentle touch, adjusts the machine. He explains the process as he goes, his voice calm and warm, clearly trying to put you at ease.

Today is your first 3D ultrasound where you’ll finally get a better view of the life growing inside you. It feels surreal. You’ve had to wait until you’re 32 weeks along to get the best view, so the wait has made you antsy. Will it look like Sukuna? You? Will it smile or suck its thumb? Surely it’s too early for that, right? All of these questions are running through your mind and making your body vibrate with both nervousness and anticipation. It actually does help that the sonographer noticed and is trying to soothe you. 

You glance to the corner where Sukuna stands, his towering figure leaned protectively against the wall. His crimson eyes are locked on the sonographer, sharp and unyielding, like a predator stalking prey. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, claws tapping rhythmically on his forearm, a faint sound that portrays his growing irritation. The air feels heavy with tension; thick enough to cut with a knife. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t contribute to your current nervousness.

The sonographer prepares to squirt gel onto your belly, offering you a soft smile. “This might feel a little cold,” he says, his tone careful. “But it’ll help us get a clear image of the baby.”

You flinch slightly at the cold, and the response is immediate.

“Watch your hands.” Sukuna’s voice slices through the room, low and menacing.

The sonographer freezes, visibly startled. His gaze darts nervously to Sukuna. “I- I’m just preparing her to perform the scan, sir. There’s no need to worry.”

Sukuna scoffs, the sound dark and mocking. “Worry? I’m not worried, human. I’m warning you.” His crimson eyes narrow, radiating danger. “You’re touching my wife who’s carrying the heir to my throne. Be mindful.”

You press your palm to your forehead, exhaling sharply. “Ryo,” you say, your tone firm. “He’s doing his job. Stop scaring him.”

Sukuna’s eyes flick to you, softening slightly, but the fire in them doesn’t fully die. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The sonographer hesitates, visibly uneasy, before resuming his work. The wand glides gently over your belly, and the monitor flickers to life. He points out the baby’s heartbeat, their tiny limbs, and the way they seem to kick at nothing in particular. His voice is soothing as he explains, almost too soothing for Sukuna’s liking.

You can see that the baby has four limbs, thankfully, and it’s got a frown on it’s face, much like its father’s. Until you speak, that is. When you speak, you can see the soft smile that graces your sweet baby’s face, again much like its father’s. You feel tears prick at your eyes finally seeing your baby so clearly.

The sonographer glances at you again, his smile almost reverent. “You’re doing wonderfully. Your baby looks perfect— beautiful, actually.”

That does it.

“Beautiful, huh?” Sukuna mutters, his voice laced with venom. “Bet you say that to every woman you see. Must be part of your script. You’re just so reassuring. Well, my wife doesn’t need that. She has me. Do you think yourself better than I?”

“Ryomen.” Your voice sharpens, and you shoot him a glare that tells him you’re angry. “Enough.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his lips curling in mild defiance, but he backs off for now. The sonographer continues, though his hands move a little faster this time, clearly eager to finish. Sukuna’s eyes remain locked on him, every small movement scrutinized like a hawk circling its prey.

Finally, the scan concludes. The sonographer hands you a towel to clean off the gel, offering another polite smile. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sukuna doesn’t give him the chance.

“You’re done, right? Get out.”

The man’s eyes widen; he looks to you as if hoping for an intervention. You manage a tight smile. “Thank you for your help. Forgive my unpleasant husband,” you say pointedly, dismissing him with a polite nod.

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone. Sukuna stands there, still bristling, his claws twitching at his sides.

You sigh, wiping the last of the gel from your belly. “You’re ridiculous, Kuna. He wasn’t touching me in any sort of suspicious way.”

“He shouldn’t have been touching you in the first place,” Sukuna snaps, taking a step closer.

“He’s a medical professional, Ryomen. It’s his job.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “He was too close; too soft. Like he thought he could make you feel safer than I do.”

You sit up, tugging your dress down over your belly. “No one is trying to take your place.”

He scoffs, pacing in front of you like a restless beast. “You’re mine. No one else gets to put their hands on you like that.”

You stand, squaring your shoulders as you step into his path. “Would you rather our child go unchecked and we miss something bad? You can’t scare every single person who helps me, Ryomen.”

His eyes narrow, the frustration in them simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re too soft,” he mutters. “Always making excuses for people who don’t deserve it.”

“Soft doesn’t mean weak,” you counter, standing firm. “And I don’t need you turning every little thing into a fight. Trust me, Ryomen. I’m not going anywhere. But… you’re wrong, you know. I do need comfort. You provide safety, yes, but never reassurance. Gentleness. Maybe just… passive acceptance. I’m carrying your child. Of course I’d like to be doted on and treated with care.”

Before he can get upset again, you add, “By you. Only you. So just— please stop it with the anger and hostility. I want my child to know their father is capable of love the way I know he is.”

The tension in his shoulders loosens slightly, though the possessiveness in his gaze remains. He steps closer, towering over you, his hand coming to rest on your belly. His touch is firm but deliberate, a reminder of who you belong to.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “You. The baby. You’re my dearest prizes. No one else gets to act like they know how to care for you better than I do. I study everything, every minute detail about you and what’s to expect with the child. I suppose I’ve been so wound up with preparing myself and protecting you that I’ve gotten more hostile than usual. I… can work on it.”

You place your hand over his, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Get back on the exam bed.”

“What? Why? He’s finish—” he interrupts you by walking you backwards until your ass hits the edge, caging you in.

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you look carrying my heir and standing up to even me. And I’d like to show you just how much I love it.” He says, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your neck, just below your jawline. As expected, you tilt your head up for a kiss and he indulges you, kissing you so hungrily and lifting you onto the bed.

His hands wander all over your body, his touch carrying a gentleness you’re not used to. Goosebumps raise on the whole of your body in response and you’re leaning forward into the kiss, losing yourself in it. You don’t even realize he’s hiked your dress up and removed your panties until the cold hits your slick-sheened pussy.

“Ryō—”

“I know, brat, I know.” He says, a teasing lilt in his voice as he parts from your lips to kiss along your jaw. “Come to the edge f’me.”

You do exactly that as he undoes his robes to reveal his second set of arms… and his second mouth. God, you love how freaky this man is. His second set of arms grip the globes of your ass to hold you steady as he pulls you flush against his lower mouth, his fat tongue just smearing your cunt with your slick and his saliva. 

You’ve never cared to admit that this mouth of his has always been your favorite. It’s so big that it offers more coverage, more pressure, and gets so much dee—

“Biiiiig stretch.” Sukuna warns you before he plunges his second tongue into your hole, lingering at that first ring of resistance to deliver a few shallow, but mind numbingly pleasurable thrusts before he pushes the rest of the way in; as much as he can, that is.

He uses the moment your pretty little mouth releases an ah! to kiss you again, his first set of hands slipping up your dress to find your tits. If there’s anything he’d put on top of the list of things he loves about your changing body, it’s this. How fucking thick your ass has become and undeniably huge your tits have grown. Just swelling and preparing to fill with milk to sustain his heir.

He pinches your sensitive nipples between his large fingers, making you moan into the kiss, relaxing your cunt around his tongue between you. Suddenly, you’re lifted just slightly above the table, his other hands beginning to fuck you on his tongue, his saliva and your slick just drip, drip, dripping onto the bed and floor beneath you.

“So greedy. Pussy’s always so fucking greedy…” he groans, resting his forehead against yours so you both can watch as your pussy bulges from swallowing his tongue so eagerly. It’s such a lewd sight, one you’ve undeniably grown addicted to in your time together.

Your moans mingle together and it’s then you realize that he’s now using just one of his hands to fuck you on his tongue. His other is wrapped around both of his cocks and pumping them together, ribbons of pre falling down his lengths and being smeared by his movements. You’re not even slightly ashamed of the way you salivate seeing him getting off while eating your pussy and watching himself do it. It’s so fucking filthy that you can’t help but—

“Gonna cum f’me, aren’t you? Mmmmmhm, can tell by how she’s flutterin’ around my tongue. My needy fucking wife.” He smirks, pulling you flush to him so that the widest part of his tongue rubs against your clit while he switches it up and fucks his tongue into you, faster this time.

“O-Ohmyfuckinggod!” The words come out strung together, the added attention on your clit making you see stars, your breath quickening, heart beginning to race. You lean back onto the bed using your hands to prop you up so you can get a better view.

“So nasty, beautiful.” A chuckle falls from his lips and you can’t even respond before his upper hands are just engulfing your tits and kneading, easing the pain of the swelling and pleasing you at the same time.

Then, something happens. Milk begins to drip from your right nipple and it has you both stopping in your tracks. You’d heard of the low possibility that milk can come before you give birth, but you never considered it’d happen to you. A blush of embarrassment creeps on your face and you’re about to apologize when you hear Sukuna groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth immediately latches onto your tit and he just sucks.

“S-Sukuna, fuck!” You whine, his lower tongue beginning to work your quivering pussy again, bringing you right to the edge of pleasure.

He releases your tit with a pop! and nips it gently. “Mine. Mine, mine, all fuckin’ mine, such a good Queen providing for my heir early. Gonna be such a good momma.” He praises you before beginning to suck the lactating nipple again, making you come undone on his tongue, your gooey insides clenching around his tongue, trying to stop him with how tight you are, but he’s too strong, fucking his tongue into you through your orgasm to swallow up every last bit of cum you have to offer him.

It’s not until you’re whining and your legs are limp, weak pushes against his shoulders making him release your tit and slip his tongue from your slobbering hole. He runs the tip of his tongue against your oversensitive clit just a few times before you feel him kiss your puffy folds, making your body lurch.

You watch breathlessly as he tries to suck up the milk from your poor abused nipple again, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging his face up to yours. “Y’know, you’re mine too. Forever. Don’t you forget that.” You smirk.

Something flickers in his eyes— pride, possessiveness, and a touch of vulnerability he’d never admit to. “Damn right I’m yours,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk. “But don’t think that means I’m gonna get soft on people.”

You lean into his hand as he caresses your cheek, a small smile playing at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he says, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. His voice drops to a rumble. “Carrying my child. Still standing by me. So brave.”

“Someone has to keep you in check,” you tease, though your voice softens with affection.

He lets out a low chuckle, pressing a possessive kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, well, let’s see if you’re brave enough to take my cocks after cumming like such a good brat f’me.” 

Your eyes widen, feeble hands trying to push him away by his chest, “Kuna! We have to leave, they’re probably traumatized!” You tell him in a hushed tone, suddenly all too aware that you’re in a doctor’s office for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, well. They can afford the therapy.” He gives you a shit eating grin while thumbing open your cunt. “Open up real wide f’me, baby.”

And as you brace yourself, you remind yourself to make apology rounds to the staff whenever your husband is through with you.

༒︎ Nanami Kento ༒︎

Nanami Kento is tired. Not just the kind of tired you feel after a long day, though God knows his body aches from another grueling shift of paperwork and exorcisms. No, it’s deeper than that. A bone-deep fatigue that comes from too many hours spent away from the one person he’d rather be with. You.

He steps through the door, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his briefcase in the other. The house is warm and smells faintly like the lavender candle you always light in the evenings. It feels like home, but he quickly notices something’s off.

Your voice carries down the hall, light and warm, tinged with laughter. It’s a sound that usually has his shoulders relaxing, but tonight, there’s an edge of tension beneath it that prickles at him. He sets his things down quietly, toeing off his shoes, and listens.

“Yeah, it’s been kind of lonely lately,” you say, and he freezes in place, his hand hovering above the coat rack. “I mean, I get it. Nanamin works so hard and I love him for it, but… I don’t know. I just miss him. I feel like I barely see him anymore.”

His chest tightens. You’re talking about him. He takes a slow, measured breath and steps closer, rounding the corner silently.

“Thank you for keeping me sane, though. Honestly, if I didn’t have someone to talk to, I’d probably be climbing the walls by now.” There’s a soft laugh on the other end of the line. Gojo’s laugh. The realization is instant and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Gojo. Of course, it’s Gojo. His coworker, the occasional thorn in the side, the most insufferable man he knows. And apparently the one you’ve been leaning on while he’s been too busy drowning in work.

Kento feels his jaw tighten, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He knows— logically, rationally— that there’s nothing going on between you and Gojo. You’d never betray him like that and Gojo, for all his teasing, would never cross that line. But the knot of jealousy twisting in his chest doesn’t care about logic.

You must have heard him shift uncomfortably because you glance over your shoulder, startled. Your expression softens when you see him and you give him a small, almost sheepish smile. “Hey, Kento just got home,” you say into the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Nanami doesn’t miss the way Gojo’s laugh sounds out one last time before you hang up. He doesn’t say anything as you set your phone on the counter, but his silence is heavy. You know him well enough to recognize it immediately.

“Ken,” you say softly, stepping toward him. “Long day?”

He hums in acknowledgment, his gaze steady on you. It’s not cold, but there’s something simmering behind it; something that makes you hesitate. “Gojo?” he asks finally, his voice calm but with an edge you can’t ignore.

You blink, caught off guard by his demeanor. “Yeah. He was just checking in. He knows I’ve been home alone a lot lately.”

“Does he?” His tone is even, but the sharpness is undeniable.

You frown, crossing your arms. “Nanami, it’s not like that. He’s a friend. Our friend. You know that.”

“I do.” And he does. He knows it’s innocent. But that doesn’t make it easier to hear you laughing and confiding in someone else while he’s been too busy to do the same.

“Ken.” Your voice softens and you reach for him, your hand brushing his arm. “Please don’t do this. Don’t beat yourself up or think anything crazy. I’m not mad at you for working so much. I know why you do it. I know it’s for us. But… it’s hard sometimes. That’s all I meant.”

“I hate that you feel like this,” he says quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That you have to go to someone else when I should be here.”

You step closer, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You’re here now,” you murmur, trying to pull him out of his head. “That’s what matters. That you always come back to me as soon as you can.”

He looks at you, something dark and conflicted in his eyes. “Is it enough?” he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Am I enough? Or would you rather have a husband who has more time for you?”

Your heart breaks at the vulnerability in his voice. “Kenny,” you say firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Always.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly and his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s hungry. Desperate. As if he’s trying to make up for all the time he’s spent away from you in one moment.

You gasp against his mouth and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down to the globes of your ass and gripping tightly. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll change for you,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “No more late nights. No more overtime. I’ll cut my hours. Whatever it takes to be here with you.”

“Ken, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” His hands slide under your shirt, his touch firm but gentle as he lifts it over your head and lets it fall to the floor. “I won’t let you feel like you’re second to anything. Ever again. You’re too precious to me. My world. My heart. My wife.”

His lips find your neck, trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone. He moves with a purpose, his hands exploring your skin as if to reacquaint himself with every inch of you. It’s more than physical— it’s a promise.

You tug at his tie, fumbling with the knot until he helps you pull it free and rips off his button-down. Then his hands are on you again, guiding you toward the bedroom.

“Lay back for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding but with an undercurrent of tenderness that makes your pulse race.

You obey, sinking onto the bed as he leans over you, his lips finding yours again. His touch is both reverent and possessive, his movements careful but insistent. Every kiss, every caress feels like an apology and a vow wrapped into one.

He wraps a hang around your throat, squeezing for one fleeting moment before trailing it down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, over your pubic bone, and finally under your nightgown to meet your slick riddled cunt.

“Shit,” he hisses, forehead resting against yours while he catches his breath, his fingers slipping back and forth between your folds, teasing at your clit in passes. “My love… I don’t want to waste any time, I just need t’feel you. Normally I’d ea—”

“I know, handsome, s’okay, I’m ready, I can take it.” You reassure him, knowing he was going to apologize for not properly warming you up.

You see, Nanami has always been one for foreplay. He could slurp up your saccharine slick for hours upon hours if you let him, but tonight? Tonight, he just wants to be one with you.

His hand finds one of yours and he intertwines your fingers, his other hand working to free his cock from the suffocating confines of his pants. When it springs free, it’s just throbbing an angry pink, beads of pre forming at the tip now that his dress pants aren't there to absorb them.

He aligns himself with your painfully empty hole, pushing past that first little ring of resistance with a long groan. The grip he has on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white as he feeds you inch after mind numbing inch of his cock until his tip’s kissing your cervix. But you know his body well enough to know that isn’t it. And so you brace yourself for him to push in to the hilt, his mushroom tip ever so slightly bullying open your cervix as he does so, making you yelp out in both pleasure and pain.

His lips swallow your whines and whimpers, he’s determined to take everything you have to offer and give you more than what he has. The world, if you asked. His free hand finds purchase on your hip and he holds you steady as he starts to roll his hips into yours, passionately. Roughly. Like he’s trying to stuff you full of all of the love he has for you.

You moan out, reaching your own free hand up to cup his cheek, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back, effectively telling him you need more. With every thrust after, you can’t help but gasp. You feel him in your lungs stealing every bit of breath you have, reddened leaking tip repeatedly hitting that bullseye that makes your mind go stupid.

“K-Ken, feels s’good! Hah!” You whine out, back arching up and pressing you flush to him. He moves his hand from your hip to wrap his arm around you, effectively holding your bottom half in the air to get deeper inside of you.

“Mine. My wife. My wife, my love, my beautiful, m-my heart.” He’s babbling, burying his head into your neck and pressing hot, wet, open mouthed kisses to it. You feel him slip his hand from yours and instead, he has the top of your head in the palm of his hand, using it to keep you still, but also to anchor himself so he doesn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful mom. Wh—hah, what kind of husband have I been by not trying to give you my babies? We can start now. After I cum riiiiight here.” He babbles, his other hand moving for only a second to press down where your stomach bulges with his thrusts.

And the look in his eyes tells you this is a promise, not just something he’s saying while fucking you. Just like the perfect little thing you are, you cum for him right then, dragging a long and frustrated groan from him.

“Pussy’s always so good for me. Milking me so good, my love…” he shudders as you cum on his throbbing length.

“Ken, f—fuh— fuck! Cum in me! Please, baby, cum in me!” You beg, making him chuckle.

“Oh? You think I’m done? No, I have to make up for lost time. Evert second I missed, I’ll make up for with an equal amount of time spent buried in this beautiful cunt of yours. Understood?”

And oh are you so incredibly fucked.

[prettymfwrites]

Hickey Prank💋

Paige Bueckers x Female Reader

♥*♡∞:｡.｡　 　｡.｡:∞♡*♥

The camera light flickered on, and you adjusted your position on the couch to ensure the perfect angle. “Alright, y’all,” you began, your voice low but brimming with excitement. “Welcome back to the channel! You already know it’s about to go down. Paige is at practice right now, and I’ve got the best prank lined up. Y’all, I’m giving myself a fake hickey.”

You held up the makeup palette, smirking. “She’s been talking about how people in the comments call her overprotective. So, let’s see just how protective my girl really is.”

Carefully, you applied a mix of purple and reddish-brown tones to your neck, blending until the mark looked disturbingly realistic. Stepping back from the mirror, you admired your work. “Not gonna lie, I might’ve missed my calling as a makeup artist.” You leaned into the camera for a close-up.

“What do we think? Looks legit, right?”

After setting up the camera in its usual spot, you grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone like it was just another normal day. The anticipation made your heart race. Paige would be home any minute, and you knew her well enough to expect fireworks.

The front door creaked open, and you heard Paige’s keys drop into the bowl by the door. “Bae?” her voice echoed from the hallway.

“In the living room!” you called, keeping your tone casual, though your nerves buzzed.

She appeared moments later, her blonde hair slightly damp from her post-practice shower, wearing a pair of loose sweats and her favorite hoodie. Paige had that post-practice glow about her, and despite the prank, you couldn’t help but admire her for a second.

Her warm smile faltered as her eyes locked onto your neck. She froze mid-step, her brows furrowing. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your phone.

She dropped her gym bag by the couch and stood in front of you, her head tilted as her eyes narrowed. “Don’t ‘what’s what’ me, mama. What’s on your neck?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a grin. “Oh, this?” You pointed to the spot as if you had just remembered it. “It’s nothing. Probably just a bruise.”

“Bruise?” Paige echoed, her voice carrying an edge now. She crouched down so she was eye-level with you, her expression unreadable. “Y/N, look at me.”

You hesitated for a moment, playing it up before finally meeting her gaze. Her hand came up to gently tilt your chin. Her thumb hovered near the mark, her jaw tightening.

“Baby, where did you get this?” she asked quietly, her tone even but laced with an unmistakable tension.

“I told you—it’s nothing,” you said, shrugging, though your heart pounded.

She let out a humorless chuckle and stood up, pacing in front of the couch. “You’re really gonna sit there and lie to my face? After everything?”

“Paige, it’s not that serious—”

“Not that serious?” Paige cut you off, spinning around to face you. Her eyes burned with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You’ve got a hickey on your neck, and I’m just supposed to sit here and think, ‘Oh, that’s no big deal’? You’re killing me, baby. ”

You bit the inside of your cheek harder, determined to keep a straight face. “Paige, you’re overreacting. It’s nothing.”

She scoffed, running a hand through her damp hair. “Overreacting? Alright, then explain it to me. Who put it there?” She was leaning against the arm of the couch now, arms crossed, her usually soft demeanor replaced with a hardened edge.

“Why does it matter?” you shot back, testing the waters. You needed to push just far enough to sell it without Paige getting too upset. But the flicker of pain in her eyes almost made you fold. Almost.

Paige let out a shaky breath and moved back in front of you, crouching again. “Baby,” she said softly, though her voice was strained, “don’t play with me right now. Tell me who touched you.”

You held her gaze, pretending to hesitate. “I—I don’t know. It was just—”

“You don’t know?” Paige’s voice cracked slightly as she pulled back, standing to pace again. “You don’t know? Y/N, come on. Don’t do this to me.”

“Paige—”

“No,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I need to think.” She paced the length of the room, running her hands through her hair, muttering to herself. “Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe it’s not what I think. Maybe—”

You had to bite your lip hard to keep from laughing. You weren’t expecting her to spiral like this. Finally, you decided it was time to end her torment before it went too far.

“Paige, baby,” you said, standing up and reaching for her hand.

She flinched slightly at your touch, her eyes searching yours for answers. “What?” she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned.

“It’s a prank,” you blurted out, unable to keep a straight face anymore. “It’s makeup, baby.”

Her brows furrowed as she processed your words. “What?”

“It’s fake,” you said, grabbing a makeup wipe from the coffee table. You handed it to her. “Here, see for yourself.”

Paige snatched the wipe, her expression still skeptical. She tilted your chin again, her touch more hesitant this time, and began rubbing at the mark. When the makeup smeared onto the wipe, her hand stilled, and she let out a deep, shaky exhale.

“You’re kidding me,” she muttered, shaking her head as she tossed the wipe onto the table. She stepped back, her hands on her hips, her head tilted up toward the ceiling as she let out a long sigh.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

Paige turned to you, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile. “You’re so lucky I didn’t lose my mind for real. Do you know what was going through my head, ma? I thought we were done—like, over.”

“I didn’t mean to stress you out that bad,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist. “It was just a prank.”

She let herself relax into your embrace, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got no idea how close you were to being in trouble for real.”

You grinned against her hoodie. “So…you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad,” she said, pulling back to look at you with a playful glare. “But I’m also impressed. That was pretty good.”

“Thank you,” you said, laughing.

“But don’t get too comfortable,” she added, her lips curving into a smirk. “You just started something, mama. This is war now.”

You groaned, laughing as she grabbed the camera. “Alright, y’all,” Paige said, pointing to the lens. “Y/N thinks she’s funny, but don’t worry—Team Paige, I’ve got something for her. Stay tuned.”

You reached for the camera, laughing. “No, no, no. Y’all, don’t encourage her!”

Paige kissed your cheek before ending the recording, her eyes still glinting with mischief. “You better sleep with one eye open tonight, baby.”

And just like that, the prank wars were officially on.

I take requests! 💋

[morganbritton132]

This little idea (or this one) hasn’t left me yet so suffer through more of my ramblings.

Look, Eddie was gonna stay away from Steve.

He watched Steve swipe Billy’s keys off a table at lunch and then chuck them into the woods behind the school last week, and decided that he wants no part of that.

If King Steve is testing out teen rebellion, that’s fine but Eddie is eighteen and he doesn’t have rich boy money to bail him out when shit hits the fan. So…

He keeps his distance. He goes to class. He misses three days of school because he’s got laryngitis again. Now he’s sitting in a booth at the diner, miserably eating ice cream and watching Steve Harrington stroll in.

Steve didn’t have to sit with him. The diner was practically empty because it was 10:30AM on a Tuesday when everybody else is at school. So, no. Steve didn’t have to slide in across from him.

“I’m not driving you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says like Eddie was weird for thinking he might. “Got my car back. You sound awful, by the way.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else because his throat is on fire, but Steve talks. He talks largely about nothing but in that way that you do when you haven’t talked to anybody in a long time which makes no sense. Steve is popular.

Eddie kinda spaces out because he doesn’t care about baseball, but his attention snaps back into focus ten minutes later when a hand clamps down on Steve’s shoulder. Steve is too casual, “Hey, Hop.”

“How’d the appointment go?” Hopper asks in a voice that sounds like it’s physically being restrained. “The MRI, right? Everything come back clear?”

“Clear as crystal, Chief,” Steve replies. “Got the uh, the A-Okay. Back to normal.”

“Uh-huh,” Hopper nods and then yanks Steve up by his shirt. “Then why’d Owens say you were a no show?”

Steve sputters. This is the first time Eddie’s ever seen him lost for words, but it doesn’t last as Steve scoffs, “That’s like a health code violation!”

He doesn’t get to say much else because Hopper pulls him out of the building. Eddie watches them argue in the parking lot and then pays his bill.

He’s leaving when Hopper marches back into the building but is luckily spared a glance from the chief. He’s not sure if Hopper even noticed him sitting there and he is fine with that.

What Eddie should do is get in his van and go home, but instead, he finds himself walking towards where Steve is waiting next to Hopper’s truck. As he gets closer, he sees that Steve is less waiting and more handcuffed to the side mirror so he can’t leave.

Steve rolls his eyes about the whole thing when he notices Eddie and then offers him a cig from the pack he stole out of the truck’s open window. Eddie shakes his head so Steve pockets the pack before asking, “You can pick a lock, right? I’ve seen you do it before.”

Eddie almost asks ‘when?’ but just sighs instead because…yes. He can.

Hopper returns to his truck five minutes later with coffee to an open handcuff dangling from his mirror. No kid in sight.

[tzyunaes]

DESPERATE   ⋄   이희승

wherein — you share a heated moment with your roommate.

희승 ˖ 𝑓em!r g. roommates to potential lovers fluff suggestive ──── EPHEMER𝒾S ( 613 ) cw. skinship making out kissing.

jennifer says .. heavily suggestive cause i went a bit overbroad w this my apologies !! TT

11:38 pm. the clock ticked in its conventional rhythm. you sighed, getting tired of tossing and turning in your bed. you were supposed to get a full night's sleep tonight after the exhausting week of finals but here you were, your head messy with crazy thoughts. finally deciding to get out of your bedroom, you get up from the bed, the silence curls through the room along with the dim tranquil darkness, your footsteps soft on the cold tiles of the floor.

as you walked past the hallway and stood in front of the refrigerator in the kitchen, opening the door as you looked for a drink. the limp sound of someone breathing behind you in the eerie silence caught your mind, you could feel your heart skipping a beat.

you were definitely quick to look behind, just to find your annoying and forever ridiculously irresistible roommate that you were supposed to hate for being the exact opposite nature of you in various ways in front of you, your eyes rolled back into your head on its own but you sighed in relief anyway, “are you insane? why the hell are you standing behind me like a ghost!?” your voice loud till the signature smirk was back on his face, “why? did my pretty princess get scared?” he whispered, taking another step close to you, you stepped back, “what scared. i just meant why can you not act like a civilized person and c—"

your words hung in the crisp air when he stepped closer, causing you to stumble a bit but his muscular built hovered over you, he leaned down to your ear, “should i try a ghostface mask next time?” his husky voice barely a whisper, you stuttered, a rosy hue lightened your cheeks.

mixed scent of whiskey and strawberries drove you frenzy, he smirked, almost caging you against the fridge. your breath hitched when his hand sneaked past your shirt and found your waist, heeseung dipped his head, his face inches away from yours as his other hand reached out to brush a few strands of your hair off your face, “may i?” he murmured under his breath, his eyes deep into you as his hand rubbed circles on your bare skin.

you couldn't respond, you weren't supposed to be doing this here with the lee heeseung of everyone, you thought to yourself. but the heat seem to be going on your head, “i will take the silence as a yes, doll,” he mumbled in your ears before engulfing your lips with his, his mouth hot in yours when you kissed him back.

his hands tracing your skin intoxicated you completely, going lower when you didn't stop him and responded instead. every graze of his fingers sent sparks of electricity through your body, awakening your senses. he chuckled into the kiss when a soft moan against his lips left from your mouth, his body almost mushed yours.

he sucked your lips like it was the last day of his life, his tongue savoring yours. his touch growing more desperate and illicit but you didn't stop him cause you craved it instead. he pulled himself off, just to let you see the sweaty face of him which did nothing but made him more attractive right at the moment. his smirk grew more sinister, the faint dim light against your intertwined bodies.

“hee…” you murmured, your breath shaking. he leaned in again as his voice hitched, “yes, darling? be a good girl for me tonight, hm?” was the last thing you heard before you let him claim you as his deliberately.