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xo2dee · 3 months ago

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ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ɪɢɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ

⛧ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sukuna x (Fem)Reader

⛧ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: true form!sukuna, heian era, sukuna being an ass, mentions of cannibalism, smut, bath sex, very small dom/sub undertones, rough sex, hard degradation, degrading names, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, orgasm delay/denial, dirty talk, asphyxiation, scratching, biting, dirty talk, reader is a masochist, sukuna is a sadist, reader calls sukuna master once, breeding kink, creampie, virginity loss (only hurts like a small amount bc rly it's sukuna, his dick is fucking huge), corruption kink

⛧ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 28,617

⛧ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Volcanic. If you were asked to describe, or even alone thinking about it, you’d say your devotion and passion for the man was volcanic.

⛧ᴀ/ɴ: this is long as fuck and probably one of my most in depth oneshots/smut i ever wrote but what can you expect with someone like sukuna. pls mind the tags and i hope you enjoy!!

⛧twitter - ao3

It was hot, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the Summer night, or because you may have been on the verge of having a hot flash due to tumultuous emotions.

A lone bead of sweat sliding down your temple to drip onto the collar of your kimono spoke enough for your mood as it matched the apprehension licking its way down the nape of your neck to your trail down along your spine; a startling contrast in the matter to how serene and beautiful the night looked and felt as well.

The night was quiet for the moment, the tatami door haven been opened to give view of the obsidian sky with the risen midnight moon along with the magnificence and abundance of bright stars and lonesome clouds backgrounding it for quite the observation of an onlooker looking for a sight to see. You were no stranger to being enamored by such wonderous sights, your eyelashes falling heavily over your eyes as you blinked in tune to the way a lone breeze swayed the nearby branches of a towering cherry blossom tree, that the petals of wisped away towards the mountain range the palace laid atop of and the smooth and still lake below the palace. It was a heavenly sight, another hard contrast to the inhabitant of the palace that was due any time to come home.

You supposed it was that time again as well, a sigh heaving its way out of your lungs as you dipped a foot in the rippling water of steam and circled it around until the heated liquid tickled along your ankle and soothed the aching bones in your foot. It was time for him to come home, and it was his bath time. It had been two weeks since he had left, a regular occasion he took part of for his taste of carnage and his appetite, and whenever he came back, he was always in a mess and tracking through all the hallways until he got to his designated area for bathing. You knew what he left for, the footsteps painted on the floor in crimson told enough, but that still never deterred you from continuing to service him.

Even if he was a curse, ate people (you preferred not to think about that too much, but the days he came back with his nail beds caked in blood and you spied the corner of his lips crusted in it, it got difficult sometimes), and was all around the most feared presence in the land, he was rather fickle about his baths. He spent a sustainable amount of time in them, something you hadn’t expected from someone like him who spent more time dirtying himself up and dousing himself in blood then dipping himself into the relaxing water of a bath. Yet, given how he carried himself, his bath was fit for that of a King.

The onsen was closed off from a good part of the palace, remotely only near his quarters and where he lounged around for most of the day, and it was as beautiful as you had expected for how nice you noted the palace was whenever you first arrived there. Inside rather than out with dimly fire lanterns and the view you were looking out at from before, it was rimmed with a fine edge before lining itself up with various rocks holding a spout that continually poured hot water into the circular structure in a rippling rhythm that calmed your mind as much as it put your body on edge. It was wide enough for him and him alone, the sheer height of him taking up most of the bath as was and normally leaving no room for anyone else.

He truly made it for himself alone to enjoy after drawn out days.

You sighed again as your gut churned, not in trepidation per se, but more-so because you were inclined to see him again in a sick sense of affection you had taken up for him for the time you had been serving him. It was morally wrong, and perhaps a bad decision on your part to care for someone who had no regard for any human life, but you blamed it on your lack traction therefore in the matters of not having someone steer you in the right direction. Truth be told, serving the palace and him was truly all you had, something that he knew just as much as you did as it catered to his liking whenever he was in his mood to tease.

You were still deciding if that was pathetic on your half or not, and apparently it seemed to be to him if the many times you had huffed at him that you’d leave, and he had laughed in your face while goading you on told you anything.

(He had told you that you were free to leave if you so wished, but not only did that disregard the idea of you being killed over it if you left, it also disregarded the fact that whenever you said so and he aggravated you on to do it the grip he’d have on your obi or your waist spoke otherwise in a means to tell you that you weren’t going anywhere regardless.

Not that you particularly minded that either, the palace was rather luxurious and offered a good amount of protection, but you only ever said that at times to feel the sting of his nails through your kimono into your skin whenever he got wound up over the idea of you leaving. He liked to tease and laugh at you knowing you truly didn’t have the guts to leave him, but another part of you whispered treacherously in your ear that the mere thought of you running away from him made him angrier than he would’ve liked for himself. And that was something you weren’t sure of on your behalf whenever he’d dismiss and ignore you seemingly afterwards, but also something that only fueled your burning longing for him at the mere indication of his possessive nature over you.)

Withdrawing your foot from the water as it seemed to be accordingly to his temperature, you decided then to pass the time and bent low enough to pass your fingers through it, your knees pressed together hugging your chest as you tickled your fingertips along the ripples that seemed to calm your nerves for the time being. You tried to keep your head clear of any greying thoughts to keep your ears alive for the sounds of his footsteps, yet it was hard to focus when all you could think of was actually seeing him again. You ended up answering your earlier question to whether you were pathetic or not when you remembered that you put on a fine, white kimono embroidered with red orchids that accentuated you outstandingly, and one that he had supplied you with a while back before, for his return and the moment you had been told you’d be preparing his bath.

You didn’t necessarily know why you felt anxious to see him once again, you had welcomed him back plenty of times after his ‘trips’, yet you supposed it was more-so something you always felt deep down from your lingering desire for him that you had desperately tried to ignore.

(Then again, the older servant was always the one bath duty, and it had gotten put on you as she was busy tending to cleaning other things, so you were the one stuck with making sure all of his needs for the bath he’d demand for the moment he got back were ready.)

There was a long moment of silence as you lost yourself in your thoughts involuntarily, the breeze quiet and the lonely owl that had been hooting suddenly stopping as the hairs on the back of your neck rose in all-too familiar sensation. It was a suffocating sense, blanketing you in a surge of energy that tickled your nerves and nearly feel like your ribs were tightening in on themselves. Part of you could feel that sliver of fear make itself known with a pang to your stomach and your pulse quickening, yet the other more depraved part knew exactly what it was as the hum in your lower abdomen spoke enough for you as you released a low breath when the tendrils curled around your neck.

You blinked as it abruptly dissipated from you… then –

“Oh? Taking a bath without me? Or, perhaps, waiting on me?”

You never could find out how someone so big like him could sneak up on you like that, nor from the way you constantly kept your eyes and ears out for him, but lo and behold he always did and found it humorous if you ever jumped like a skittish cat. Nevertheless, your shoulders did jerk upwards, but you quickly stamped it down in favor of maintaining a mask of indifference rather than surprise and excitement to seeing him again. Last thing you needed was him bringing up so that you looked happy to see him again after so long to stroke his already large ego.

Yet you stood perhaps more quickly than you intended, bowing to him before looking at him while wiping your fingers along your robe and swallowing down the ball of saliva lodged into your throat to address him properly. The other trivial annoyance you didn’t what to happen was your voice to crack or to choke on your words in front of him in newfound nervousness that you got to see him again and for him to start teasing you for that as well. It was bad enough he liked to egg on your feistiness to try and get you to snap.

“I didn’t hear you come in; I apologize.”

His voice always slithered down your spine, the wavelengths wiggling into your brain to take home there each time you heard that low tremor leave his chest and soothe itself deep into your muscles and bones. “Lost in your own thoughts? Here I was thinking you were going for a dip.” Eerily, you compared his voice and tone to that of him dragging a nail slowly down your spine, tickling you at the same time of enticing you for whatever more sensations he could bring to your mind and body. “If you were though, then by all means don’t stop on my account…”

The warmth that enveloped your face didn’t help, out of annoyance or flusterment you weren’t sure, but you were glad that he couldn’t see your face so easily from your bent over position to see the thoughts cross over your expression and color your eyes. You stomped it down however, swallowing and holding back a sigh as you replied, “I wasn’t, and I got lost in time more-so.”

The hum that left him seemed to vibrate your entire body albeit you being several feet away from him, your eyelashes falling over your eyes heavily a few times as you alternated from looking at your own feet to his. The stark contrast in the clean and smooth vision of your feet and the crimson that coated his own feet and stained the floor always caught your attention, but you had long since grown out of feeling discouraged by it. You remained bowed at the waist as you watched him walk forward a few steps, eyes on the dark ink circled around his ankles and the sound of them apparent then as he tracked more blood as he went.

You didn’t rise up from your bow of respect just then, knowing he liked it when you waited for his dismissal of it as he also hated whenever people looked up at him without permission, and if the telling signs of his bare legs leading up to his thighs circled with the same onyx ink told you anything, it was that he was already nude (the man had no concept of modesty it seemed… well, apparently around you as you didn’t know if he walked around completely bare around the other servants). It was best you didn’t look for your own dignity. You could already feel the warmth take home in your cheeks and body the same time he spoke again, fighting down the urge to squirm whenever you felt the weight of his devilish eyes on you in a careful and powerful caress.

“How unlike you…” he drawled off, a tinting of humor in his voice while you watched him dip his own foot into the bath, the water tinging into a red from the essence on it, “Normally you’re the first I see and the last I get to watch go. I nearly thought you may have finally grew some guts and ran away like you’ve been crying about, but seeing you accounted for in here…” His voice was always so smooth no matter the scenario, yet the way he curled his tongue around the last words and syllables to let them linger in the air stirred a sensation down into your thighs.

“That’s not –”

“Hmm? ‘That’s not –‘,” he mimicked the tone of your voice in a manner that sounded way worse and more desperate than you would’ve liked to even admit since you knew he only did it when your voice took on a higher pitch, and heard his tongue click loudly against the roof his mouth, “What is it then?”

You bit into your cheek, feeling humiliated that longer you stood there in your bow and listened to him begin to pick you apart and willing yourself to not give in to biting back. However, you were none too strong in that department and found the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “All the servants are always there when you come back… and we never leave until you say so.”

There was a short, bite of his laughter, the sound of the water rippling as you shut your eyes when you realized he was walking in, and he was just as quick to throw something back to you. “And yet, I see you the most. Even now after I dismissed you, you still stand there bowing… Perhaps seeking validation from your Master, girl?”

It was hard then, your jaw clenching as he continued to prattle off in a challenge to get you to snap at him so he could have a good laugh and toy with you as he seemed fit. The feeling of awe quickly left you in favor of burning humiliation and annoyance over his inclination to keep reminding you of his place over you and how you tried to never call him that even from the moment you met him, knowing damn well of the dastard smirk that marred his face as he said it. He could probably see your form stiffen anyway, finding sick amusement in the way he knew he could make you annoyed if he accused you of trying to suck up to him.

Bastard.

You rose back up and reopened your eyes, dead set staring at the sliding door he came through so that you could easily make your leave since he had already dismissed you and had his fun toying with you. Your fingers knotted in the front of your kimono, teeth nearly feeling as if they were going to crack and break from how hard you were gnashing them together as you glared at the door instead of him. Then you remembered why you were more anxious for his return than excited: his mouth. Forget the affection you had, you were quick to remember how much of a bastard he was that annoyed you more than anything.

“Then,” you started out, making sure you added a tinge of venom onto the tip of your tongue as you smoothed your hands down your robe, “if you’re done and I’m not needed, I’ll be leaving.”

Your nape prickled with the feeling of being watched so intensely, though you were none too ready to look him in the eye since each time you did so sent you careening down further in the pool of treacherous and growing emotions you had for him. However, even as you went to leave, he wasn’t ready to let you go so easily.

“Brat. Where do you think you’re running off to now?”

You paused, mid-footstep and your heart constricted in your chest to let that fire die away the moment the words left his mouth and a familiar pit growing inside of your stomach from the tone of his voice. You had only heard it before in hushed whispers with your blistering jealousy you tried to ignore when you caught wind of him seeking out concubines. You hated the envy that grew like an incurable parasite in your mind the moment you find out he entertained himself with others, yet it was folly whenever you realized they never did last long and usually only were sought out for one night.

A swallow broke your silence, gnawing unease and buzzing excitement bubbling inside of you as you waited for him to continue and hoped it wasn’t anything that costed you your life. You were sure it was only so much before he could take your bratty attitude (but it wasn’t like he never indulged himself in your feistiness), yet his inclination to egg it on and the fact you were still walking around serving him spoke for different reasons. There were your days though, as his mood swings could’ve been compared to stranger, unparalleled weather, that he outright didn’t acknowledge your existence and all but turned his nose up at the ‘little human servants’ he had for himself, and then the next day he was grinning at you in perverse asking you if you wanted to sit on his lap instead of on your knees at his feet. He was enigma in all intentions, but he was also a creature of chaos you had to walk on heated glass for in circumspection to not fall into the boiling lava below that’d melt the flesh right off your skin with one wrong step taken too far or with too much weight applied.

After all, he was still a curse, and an awfully powerful one that could crush you at that.

“Look at me.”

Damn.

You didn’t outwardly sigh in fear of him hearing it and getting put off from it, instead heaving it in and out mentally as you accepted your fate that he wasn’t going to let you leave without addressing him properly. You squared your shoulders to gather up as much bravery and confidence you could to look turn and look him squarely in the eye – eyes… for whatever he had planned. It wasn’t like you hadn’t looked him dead in the eyes before, watching that stupid smirk line his mouth whenever he caught the glint of a fire in your eyes, but it had become even harder after he told you he could read you like an open book and knew every emotion you were feeling looking through your eyes alone. After that, you had done your damnedest to try and not let him know of the feelings you had for him that you knew were present in your face whenever you looked at him.

In the end you obliged him, turning slowly to finally face him and meeting his eyes after so long. His eyes were as red as they could’ve been, molten heat coming from them that liquified hard into your stomach in knots that ran free like magma cascading out of a volcano the longer you were exposed to them. And even as you stood there taking in his form relaxed and spread out in the bath becoming a tinge of a pink color from all the blood, you could only think of the growing tension that was building between you two from the amount of time you had been serving him.

Volcanic.

If you were asked to describe, or even alone thinking about it, you’d say your devotion and passion for the man was volcanic. It had been dormant the moment you saw him, watching the way all four of those eyes slid along all of the new servants’ bodies in a lazy dispute with his chin propped up by one of the four fists he had, like he was sizing all of you up and seeing if you all were truly worthy enough to be in his presence. The lava inside of you tied to the strings of your affection for him were properly quiet and loose for then, your spine tensing and senses prickling in trepidation the moment he landed on you and did his own sweep of you head-to-toe before meeting your eyes. You had stared back with as much indifference you could endure, your shoulders laxing the moment he looked away and moved on, miffed with his bored expression and gnashing your molars together to wonder just what he wanted by all of it.

When he hadn’t been looking and swept his hand through the air to dismiss all of but three of you, you took him in. The bulk and ripple in his bicep the moment he moved his hand proved his strength, the dark shade of his long nails matching the black ink circling around visible body parts told you more of him, the four arms nearly as horrifying as the mouth atop his abdomen and second face atop of him protruding outwards was telling of his nature, his hair a pretty shade of pink like the kimono you had been wearing that day and the glowing of his crimson eyes matching the blood that had stained his mouth and seeped into the cracks of floor as it dripped in tune off of his fingers the next day when you realized what had happened to the rest of the servants sans you and two others. He lived up his name then, the stories you had been told matching everything you had seen as you got down onto your knees with your cheek caught between your teeth and scrubbed away to clean the floor right below his feet.

He was… grotesque and monstrous; carved straight from the flesh pits of Hell by the Devil himself. Truly a curse in the world when you remembered all the atrocities he had done and the sights you had witnessed serving under him as you allowed the back his hand to wisp across your cheek and your head for your promise to him. A mock of affection you supposed, letting the hands that ripped and teared through people lay upon the top of your head in a pet in moments you sat on your knees in front of him, and it was horrifying to think about how he did it and how much you enjoyed it the more he did so.

He was plainly evil as they came, nothing but a void of obscurity that followed him in dark fog of bad luck for those he deemed it fit for. He was…

Sukuna.

Or as you had heard in hushed whispers the name villagers whimpered in fear at the mere thought of him: Ryoumen Sukuna.

Two-face Sukuna. You didn’t understand until you saw him up close that day, unable to look away from the uncanny way he looked when all four eyes landed on you and bored into your very soul to strip away any fabrications lying overtop yourself in his name.

At that moment however, his name didn’t scare you as much as it did back then when you had been living in your village still, alone and bound to another before you ran off at nineteen from the prospect of vowing yourself to another before you ironically curled in on that thought and ended up ‘vowing’ yourself to another. You couldn’t remember when it changed honestly, serving him turning into… well, you were still serving him, but the complications that came along with it twirled away from you being just a measly servant that tended to his needs to someone that also kept his entertainment high whenever he was bored. You didn’t know why it was you; perhaps it was the way you liked to stare at him, scouring every inch of his skin you couldn’t find the means as to why you found him so fascinating, how you wondered someone of such an extent could even exist and how the man before you had once been a human, to the very reason of why he seemed to keep you around.

(You learned mere hours later that after cleaning the blood running through the floor that you and the other two had been the lucky ones, and you were best to be glad to be the one fitted for his presence.)

The magma inside of you had boiled the moment Sukuna first brushed against you, the muscle in his arm bigger than your head skimming along the side of you the moment he walked past and forever changing the way you looked at him whenever he brushed your cheek with an open palm. It was scalding; his skin hot with the blood of a curse coursing through his veins and deterring you from having any other focus for the rest of the day. It was an array emotions from then on out, your lust burning like hot lava in your gut every time he was near and spiraling out of control in moments you’d get your ‘praise’ whenever you did something right. You weren’t too sure if he showed the same type of ‘affection’ to the other servants, but there was a part of you that it didn’t quite settle well with if he did.

And it wasn’t like you ever got the pleasure of the people he brought into his bed, something that clawed at your brain in envy after you realized the extent of what you were beginning to feel for the man.

Part of you felt horribly disgusted with yourself the moment you realized your heart stuttered at the sight of him and your gut twisted at the mere mention of him, your inclination (or lack of, therefore) towards the men of the village not even comparing to your captivation with the King of Curses in spite of his carnage. Though perhaps it was because he was someone you had not ever seen before, his looks and power unmatchable above all else that drew you in like a moth to a flame and your sick attraction to knowing that the man could easily kill you with a flick of his wrist, but he didn’t. And that was perhaps what was so fascinating to you about everything and why your emotions went to Hell when it came to him, a burning stone inside of your mind and heart that continued to grow against your sternum brighter and larger with no intention of dying out the longer you were around him.

What made it worse was that he knew; he knew, if the intentional claw grazing across your cheek in a sign of mock affection with that smirk that was nearly too big for his face told you anything. He knew and he was playing with you, holding the strings to your puppet waving you around and wondering just when you’d crack and let him win his little game. You were none too ready to give in to him however, something that more than likely equally goaded him and annoyed him, but you knew if you wanted to keep his attention you were going to have to keep him busy with toying with you.

And so far, it seemed to be working.

Sukuna’s stare was like a white-hot cast iron pouring its contents all over your skin, seeping deep into your bones that groaned from the attention and melted away into mush inside of your muscles to leave you weak in the limbs ready to fall to your knees before him, and even as you watched his eyes do that long drag down your body and back up to your face like they always did, you already knew he was in for another round of a game. His form always captivated you, as it was in that moment from the way two of his arms were perched atop the rim of the bath and the other two lying still in the water, steam rising from his skin and water together creating a thin layer of haziness about him as the rest of his body was covered but the middle of his abdomen and up, so you were free from embarrassment of seeing the rest of him (not that it wasn’t something you hadn’t thought of at times, especially when you took in his towering height and double appendages).

You held his stare firmly, trying your best to not show your obvious flusterment he had brought upon you again, and the red of his eyes carved out a chunk of your gut to leave you with an even bigger pit of anxiety. Not so much that you were afraid of him, but wary of the rising fire between you two that seemed to be getting out of control the longer it was kept up with. Part of you wondered when it would eventually simmer, the fire dying and solidifying to its cool texture into that of an igneous rock in semblance of what was brewing between you two, and part of you was anticipating it ended soon.

“What is it?” you eventually asked, inwardly squirming from those bright eyes and masking your voice to sound less wobbly than you felt.

A fine, arched eyebrow rose on Sukuna’s face, his eyes narrowing to that of a feline’s (Sukuna was like a cat, you realized; he was a big, lazy cat flicking its tail about in a challenge for you cross over into his territory, and likewise to that of a feline toying around with you much like one would a mouse – cornering it and playing with it until it seemingly had enough) and a low hum leaving him. He made a show of eating you alive with just his stare before you watched one of his arms below the water rise, his index finger already pointed out as he flicked water off his clawed nail and turned his hand upwards, curling the long and thick appendage in a ‘come hither’ motion at you.

“Come here.”

The command made you still for a moment, your stomach suddenly flipping on itself in numerous different directions and filled the most chaotic of emotions. That phantom burn was back, cutting into your body and leaving deep lacerations along your flesh in its wake for the lava to take home and seep into your veins, while your heart stuttered at the call. You were no stranger to it, often obeying regularly and tending to whatever he wanted, but having him say it in the condition he was in was… not particularly something you were used to. Sukuna was well known for only wearing a layer of garment along his bottom half with no footwear or a top in sight (as well as the times he strutted around in just a kimono that showed more skin than covered it, more-so because he wore women’s kimonos since the sleeves could fit his other arms as well, which was why you and the other servants normally got kimonos as seemed fit), so you were used to just shamelessly ogling his chest and abdomen as much as you wanted, but him nude?

Not something you got to see, and there was a part of you that wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

(Foolish of you to even consider it, you knew that he knew that he was doing it for a reason.)

Nevertheless, you followed after his call, your steps somewhat slow as his hand remained outstretched, though he changed to his palm being open and face-up. You regarded him carefully as you got close enough to stand over him, watching his nostrils flare once before he nodded his head at you to come closer with the movements of his fingers helping him as well. A swallow was all you could muster, watching as one eye watched the movement very carefully before sliding back up to your face, awaiting for you to bend down far enough to his level so that your face was closer to his.

“Closer,” he purred, full lips twitching to barely hold his sick sense of humor.

You didn’t want to think on how the tone of his voice sent you mentally into another spiral, your ribs tightening and a snake wrapping itself around your stomach burning with the ravenous want for what was presented and to strike out for what it sought after. You could feel the hum along your lower belly, the sweat lining your spine ever-present as you as you felt another drop of it slide along down your back as you bent low enough for to rest your chin into his palm. Not something that hadn’t been done before either, but not used to it as well since it seemed rather intimate in some situations as opposed to him sizing you up.

His hand was as warm as it always was, and fingers still strong as he closed them in on your cheeks and pressed into your face. Sukuna squeezed your cheeks so much that it puckered your lips into a pout, something you duly noted that he took into consideration as the tips of his nails slightly dug into your skin. You blinked heavily trying to hold the eye contact, no doubt knowing that he could hear and perhaps feel the increase in your breathing and the thudding of your heart as that became fact when his lips twitched and another hum vibrated through his chest. Sukuna’s long eyelashes lowered over his eyes the same instance his canines came into light from his grin, sharp and dangerous in the warm light from the lantern that did little to help ease the sculpted contours on his face lined with that dark ink.

Sukuna leant in closer to you, his smell of blood masked by the wafting heat into your nostrils and eye ducts making you blink cutely at him as one of his eyes drifted around every inch of your face, “Perhaps you weren’t so eager to see me back then?” he murmured almost dreamily into your face, a front he put on whenever he was blatantly asking for you to stroke his ego, “A shame… Leaving so soon after seeing me.”

He squeezed your face once and relished in watching your expression push into one, before letting up enough for you to talk and grazing a nail along your cheekbone, “I’m not,” you persisted, more on the desperate side than you would’ve liked to admit, but seeing his eyes light up at your whine encouraged you to keep speaking, “I just thought you were dismissing me… And I’m always eager to see you back and I always eagerly await your return.” Your fingers clenched around the fabric of your kimono, Sukuna’s attention so close to your face making you think of less appropriate things to do to him and wonder just what it was like to feel his sharp teeth bite into your lower lip.

The grin that twisted his face was something that excited you as much as it unsettled you, like he was the cat who caught the canary and was going in for meal. His fingers squished your cheeks together once more before they drifted off, a finger trailing to pull down on your bottom lip before it slowly curled around your neck in one swift squeeze. Your thighs tightened in on themselves at the contact, his hands so much larger than your own something that never went unnoticed by you or him as his seven foot and some inches form completely dwarfed everyone in the palace. His nostrils flared in a show before he spoke, nails slightly digging into your neck as he squeezed your throat harder and his thumb rubbed along your pulse point.

“Eager to please, aren’t you?”

Yes, yes, yes. Your fingers knotted harder into your kimono, knuckles protruding outwards from your skin, “Always for you, Lord Sukuna.”

“How interesting,” he purred out once again in your face, a low vibrato that tickled your brain just right and had you biting the inside of your cheek when it warmed your body. However, nothing really prepared you for the moment he dropped his eyes down to look at your mouth, a low hum leaving again as brought his face mere centimeters away from your own.

You froze, not used to the attention he brought an intimate area like that, watching through heavy eyes and a parted mouth as he only seemed to come closer into your space.

Was he…

Your face warmed heavily, steam from the Onsen not helping as you fought between looking at his lips and his eyes, his face coming closer… and closer… and closer until –

Sukuna’s hand abruptly left your throat, flicking your forehead before pressing a finger there as he suddenly leant back away from you and pushed you away by the finger on your forehead. He had the gall to look disinterested again, like he was annoyed as another hand rose to scratch at the inside of his ear whilst looking off the side and examining the nails on another hand.

“Then you can wash my hair… and clean my nails. I can’t be bothered to do it right now since you’re so willing.”

The heat from the water just below you wasn’t enough to keep that foggy screen you were looking through at him up, the dousing chill you felt encase your body overwhelm you the moment he pushed you away by just a finger was enough to bring you out of your stupor. Whatever fog you had conjured up in a hazy mist looking at him whenever he had your face in his hand completely dissipated as he disregarded you from that odd little playout you two were having. Of course, what were you thinking? Sukuna never once really showed intimate affection that of a kiss to anyone so far from what you had seen, so what would have made you so different? It was your girlish wants, your long-time dream since you were a child to have a King or just a strong man offer up some affection to you, to have your first kiss by someone so powerful and take you into their arms…

It was every woman’s dream down in the village you had been born into, full of prospering life and growing by the day, but also your village was only down the mountain away from you lived as of then. And the King that you all looked up to was not the king your mother had read to you about in bedtime stories.

In reality, you were longing from a kiss from the Devil himself nearly; inhumane in his features and actions, and not a King that was seeking a Queen more than he was seeking out the means to drive fear into people to let it be known he was the dominant lifeform in their world. Sukuna was the one they needed to fear and was to respect, and he was the one that got it, because no one in their best mind would dare to oppose him – unless, of course, you wanted to talk about the abundance of sorcerers that had it out for him. Nevertheless, when you took in your situation and the reminder of your less than inclined attitude to seek out the men in your village rather than a curse, you supposed you could only blame yourself for falling up short and deeming yourself a true fool like he would call you.

You respected Sukuna, and, as much you wanted to bask in his affections and wanted him, in that same dance you could not stand his presence at times.

“Then you can wash my hair… and clean my nails. I can’t be bothered to do it right now since you’re so willing.”

You couldn’t stand him. He was annoying.

The entirety of the words caught within your throat you wanted to say to him felt like vomit stuck to your tongue, leaving you to steady yourself after his show of indifference to cover your humiliation as one-hundred words of varying degree ran through your mind at his behavior. You should’ve expected it though, it wasn’t the first time Sukuna toyed with you and you had gotten your hopes up for a sliver of affection, and it wasn’t the first time that it happened either for you to get caught up in thinking he was obliging you only for him to feign innocence and order you to do something else entirely. He was a conniving bastard really.

Moreover, you swallowed it all down, maintaining eye contact with the lower eye he had directed at you still to gauge your reaction whilst still inspecting his disgusting nails, and bowed with your cheek caught between your molars hard enough to draw blood, “As you wish.” You really were pathetic, weren’t you?

The noise that pushed passed Sukuna’s lips sounded more like a huff, like he was aggravated that you were obeying his orders instead sneering at him that he played with your wants and you were just obedient as always. He perplexed you in more ways than one at instances like so, as he demanded and expected the world’s best respect from his servants and ‘disposed’ (read: killed and ate) the ones that didn’t meet those expectations. You knew Sukuna was a complex being, his interests being so flippant and his moods changing so fast it gave you whiplash, but for being fussy about wanting you to get down on your knees with your forehead to the floor praising him he sure did prod at you to get you lash out at him like you had done that one time…

You preferred not to think of it too much, a sigh you kept welled up in your lungs as you meandered over behind him, as the look in Sukuna’s eyes that day frightened you as much as it had excited you. It wasn’t that he was particularly angry, the dilated pupils spoke enough for that, but you didn’t realize how much he liked it whenever you finally spoke around him that wasn’t your mumblings that he made you repeat because he ‘couldn’t hear you’. Truth be told, you didn’t think about it often because it got you more… desireful than you would’ve liked to admit, and that defiant streak you had hidden underneath the constrictions of your kimonos came to life every time you saw that light in his eyes.

You ignored Sukuna’s little predator stare he was shooting at you as you came to stand behind him, a frown marring your face as you realized the only way to ‘tend’ to him was to sit directly behind him… with your legs opens… and perhaps nearly having your legs over his shoulders…. Bath duty was going to be the death of you.

The throb that emitted from within was a tickling sensation along with the presence of dampness rubbing against you, like your heartbeat was finding a home elsewhere and very familiar to you when you remembered it was same exact feeling you had felt welling up in your lower abdomen on a night that you had slid your fingers underneath your kimono and into your undergarments when you remembered that Sukuna was –

Sukuna’s head shifted, two bright, cherry-colored eyes finding your own in deadly precision that rooted you to your spot and diminished all thought in your mind whenever he spoke so quietly and sharp you had to strain to hear him.

“What are you doing?”

You blinked along with a small swallow, focusing on the dab of blood along his sculpted jawline and reprimanding yourself for getting aroused at merely the thought of your bare thighs touching his (bulging, ridiculously muscled, big) shoulders and arms and pulled yourself together enough to answer him. “I… I’ll have to sit behind you, to wash your hair that is.”

Sukuna gave you a languid blink, “And your point is?”

Ah yes, what was my point? “I was just letting you know that since I know you don’t like being touched without permission…” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t speak between clenched teeth at his haughty behavior.

“That’s hardly a problem… However –” You didn’t necessarily like the way his face split up into another Cheshire grin, a perverse nature in the way he slid one eye along what he could see of your body, “seems like that kimono’s a little too tight to spread your legs in, take it off and you’ll have an easier time. Don’t wanna mess it up either, do you?”

Despite what may have been Sukuna’s true intentions to get a peek of your form for his own pleasure, he was right. Your obi had been tied securely that morning, like it always was since you hated constantly readjusting it whenever you were tending to your daily duties, and the kimonos normally were restricting as was, but that still didn’t quell the bundle of tickles welling up in the acid of your stomach at the mere thought of just undressing in front of him. Having a nagajuban on underneath helped some and you could easily move your legs better in it, but it was also one less layer of fabric that separated you from Sukuna and it was rather thin.

Nevertheless, you complied him with a bow and flusterment evident in your eyes, deftly undoing your obi and the articles that helped secure your kimono in place before you were slipping your arms up through the silk sleeves and unraveling yourself free of the kimono. And all the while as you did so, he stared. That same stare you got whenever he was in a mood and wanted to toy with as deemed fit; the heat of the gaze of which hotter than the water in bath as you felt it prickle along your skin in chills in a phantom burn that boiled much like lava inside of a volcano ready to erupt. It was unnerving as it was seducing, feeling two eyes that time slide along the silhouette of your figure through the reedy fabric of your robe as you pulled yourself free of the extravagant kimono and folded it up to lie on a nearby jutting rock, and whenever you returned your gaze back to him he had nothing but that slick smirk split up on his face and eyes dilated as he shamelessly looked at you from head to toe.

“That’s better. Now c’mere,” he wiggled two fingers at you, eyelashes lowering in a way that shouldn’t have made him look as handsome as it did, “I’ve waited long enough.”

Sukuna was going to be the death of you. Metaphorically or literally, you weren’t sure, but you knew the costs of what you were getting into the moment you stuck around and followed after him like some lost puppy.

You gave him another nod, trying your best not to sneer at the back of his head whenever another short laugh left his chest as he faced back forward, and took the most inaudible, long inhale and exhale as you could before lowering yourself down to sit behind him. Even then you knew that any type inspiring mental talk you tried to put yourself through, that nothing would’ve really prepared for what you were going to do. You had touched Sukuna before in brushes much like he did you, but what you were going to do then didn’t compare at all.

The heat from Sukuna’s body was radiating, already making you flutter your eyes from the mere onslaught of it so close to you as you came down on your knees first, the thin layer of your nagajuban letting your covered knees skim across the expanse of his broad back. It was then you realized sitting on your knees wouldn’t work, pulling them out from under you with your cheek caught between your teeth as you wiggled your feet into the free space that wasn’t took up by the sheer mass of his body. Still, even then your knees were slightly digging into his shoulder blades, warm skin from his body churned your stomach and made you spread your legs further to try and help quell the familiar, uncomfortable knot growing within you at the mere thought of touching him.

You squirmed a fraction, lightly wincing at the all-telling sensation of dampness coating you that you’d have to care of later that night.

And in front of you, Sukuna cracked the knuckles in his fingers.

You tried not to think about the contrast in the light of your robe and the darkness of a spread tattoo scaling down his shoulder blade brushing against one and another, instead swallowing your anxiety as best as you could and ready to ask him what he wanted done first when you abruptly stopped by a splash of water hitting your face.

One arm of his had suddenly rose, a hand flicking all five of its fingers as he presented it to you to flick the droplets in your face, and his voice droning out as you blinked the hot water free of your eyelashes. “Start with my nails, you’re a woman so you should know how to do it… Though, your nails are disgusting half the time.”

Bastard.

Thankfully he couldn’t see the way you rolled your eyes, grimacing at the back of his head while keeping your hateful words to yourself when you obliged him and took hold of the hand he was presenting to you. Never mind that they were painfully calloused and as warm as ever, the size of Sukuna’s hands compared to your own would forever startle you – Hell, the size of his hands whenever he brushed them across your face was horrifying. He was larger than you on every way, something that should’ve frightened you and made you turn away, but even as you sat there digging your nails to pick free dried blood and flesh bits embedded into his own, you couldn’t find the means to turn away in disgust from him.

And on your own accord, you still obliged him, cleaning his nails free of any gunk to his liking.

(Though, he had the audacity to tell you that your nails were disgusting when his were always coated in old blood and pieces of human flesh whenever he ripped through people and didn’t have Uraume present to cook for him, and you were more-so annoyed that he was just being a hypocrite and prodding at you.)

Whenever you had finished one hand and were pulling free a rotten piece of skin from underneath his thumb’s nail on the second, he spoke while flicking water about, “Your sharp ass knees are digging into my back, move them.”

You would’ve grumbled if you didn’t think he’d dunk you underwater, obliging him as you then decided to be slightly cheeky and throw your legs over his shoulders, calves sitting snugly atop them as your feet rested along his pectorals. He gave no reaction much to your chagrin, perhaps a slight tilt to his head to acknowledge that you had put them there, but otherwise it seemed he didn’t care. Unsurprising given Sukuna’s odd nature to randomly touch you whenever he felt like it, but a win on your part since it wasn’t so often you were freely able to touch him.

Once you had grimaced and flicked his nails free on the second hand and moved onto his third, Sukuna graced you with his own version of light conversation, something you weren’t necessarily used to given his penchant of cooing at you in backhanded compliments and ways to get you to stroke his ego. Though, you perked every moment that he actively spoke, whether it was to you individually or not.

“You interest me, you know that?”

You paused, surprised and perplexed at the claim, and turned your gaze a stray pink strand of hair curled over his ear, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He casted a long look at you from over his shoulder, a glittering red eye sharpened and narrowed down as it nearly felt like he pulling your soul out bare for him to observe and prod at as he seemed fit. “Don’t play coy, girl, you don’t think I don’t know of your little situation?”

Situation… You had various ideas running along in your head to what he could’ve been alluding to, but the one that stuck to you the most was you ever-growing feelings for him that you were sure he had eventually caught onto. Still, you wanted to at least try and play ignorant with him in hopes he got impatient and just told you instead of dangling it above your head. “I still don’t –"

Sukuna mimicked your voice again, cutting you off and flicking a hand through the water, “’I still don’t –’, bah, don’t give me that innocent bullshit you like to pretend you have with me,” he turned forward with a sneer, but a hand from underneath the water rose to curl its fingers around your ankle, scratching at your skin there before trailing a long nail up your calf, “A girl unmarried comes here from the village… Willingly as well. Can’t tell if you’re just stupid or got a death wish, but given your… situation there’s a little more to the story, isn’t there?”

Your skin puckered and tickled from his ministrations, something he caught on to as the tip of his nose grazed along the side of your knee, dangerously close to your inner thighs while he sniffed you in his course. He repeated the motion twice before he pinched your calf and sent you a hard look from underneath his eyelashes, a signal he wanted you to speak up and answer him before he lost interest and left you hanging.

And if there was anything you wanted, it was Sukuna’s full interest in you.

“You said it yourself,” you managed out, rubbing your thumb along the jointed bone in his middle finger, “people do get insufferable at times.”

Sukuna’s nose tickled along your inner thigh so delicately as you felt your lower abdomen twist and flip at the action, nerves coursing through your spine and veins as he pulled away and circled his nail around your Achille’s heel. He hummed once while alternating between your balancing your leg up on one finger and bouncing it, an air of inquisitiveness to him as he regarded your words. “How odd of you to say, turning against your own species. Still, satisfy my curiosity; what was it? Are you just ‘adventurous’, looking for a way out in life? Hmm, that doesn’t suit you, you hardly ever roam around here; maybe it’s something deeper, huh?”

You didn’t answer him right away, his thumb nail dipping into your foot enough to draw a small dab of blood that you didn’t shy away from. Nor did you feel disgust when he turned his head enough for you to watch his ridiculously long tongue fall free of his mouth and lick up a slow trail to let the stray blood broken free of your skin seep into his tastebuds. You could see the ink on his tongue that matched the markings on his body, but you were more enamored in the way his tongue felt lapping along your flesh, the length of which you were aware, but the feeling of it tickling along you in wet laps, hot from his carcass of a mouth and puckering your skin was… enticing.

You wondered if you tasted good to him, a devious thought crossing your mind whenever you briefly thought it would feel like to have his tongue drag its way up your inner thighs until wiggling along a place that had never been touched before… a place you were more than willing to allow him to defile if he so wished. It was no secret Sukuna had sex, but it was always a want to know what it was like – not just in general, but with him.

The coil that had been steadily growing in your belly pulled considerably at the path your mind suddenly took, deep in the recesses of your mind thoughts that you only conjured up late at night, and your expression withered into that of mock pain as you flexed the calf he was holding from all the attention. Sukuna cut his eyes back to you, wriggling his tongue back into his mouth and a low hum rumbling of his chest as he assessed your expression.

“What was it?” he continued without missing a beat, dismissing the fact that he had just licked you, “Parents about to marry you off to some flesh bag down there and you just couldn’t stand the idea of being tied down? How droll, living the rest of your little life serving someone, I could only imagine how it burns you up inside…”

…What was he getting at?

“Or –” his curled all fingers around your ankle, and squeezed, “Perhaps they can’t handle you, your bratty mouth is enough to speak for and I don’t think anyone would put up with it… so maybe you ran off thinking you could find someone that could live up to your wants…” Sukuna’s nails dug into your foot harder, scratching away at your skin as more blood ran free and coated his appendages in a startlingly crimson. It seemed he was truly just an insatiable creature when it came to his appetite – be it flesh or other wants in general, Sukuna was voracious.

You winced at the wounds, the sting of pain burning just for a moment until it numbed out, replacing a heated hum within your mind and body at the rough treatment, and you waited for him to elaborate further. Your mind was less than stable for the moment, wondering just how he seemed to know everything about you when you never even spoke of your past to him. Though, he had a point when he mentioned your deep-rooted desires…

“So?” he prodded at you, catching your attention before it wandered off too far, “Tell me. Maybe your dearest father sold you off and you’re covering it up because you can’t take the fact they didn’t want you. Don’t be so upset about it… all the women like that end up here; just damaged goods…” His voice tampered off into a sick purr, like he enjoyed the idea you may have had issues with your family and it was why you ended up at his palace, and his tone trailed into something that offered a façade of softness. He was talking to you like he was taking pity on you, but if it wasn’t for the condescending way he was speaking and overall, his personality, you might have believed him.

But alas, he was Sukuna. He loved tearing people apart – physically and mentally.

He squeezed you harder when you remained silent, quiet from the way he was analyzing you as the bones in your foot began screaming at the pressure and your blood began sliding and curling around his forearm like a snake constricting itself around him when he broke skin. You couldn’t stand how blood complimented his skin, like he was born to be a predator in all his intentions – like he was born to be murderer and shroud himself in an ominous fog for the remainder of the time he walked the Earth.

Like people were supposed to fear him for all of time (how long had he already been alive for; how long would he be alive for? He’d outlive you for sure…).

You watched his lips part again, those canines you fantasized seeming much larger from the shadows the lanterns were casting, and decided to answer him before he had another chance to try and insult you or assume you abandoned by your family.

“That’s not it,” you snapped out, watching that gleeful grin split his face at the fast way you responded and when you thumb pressed down onto the bottom knuckle of his pinky finger. It wasn’t enough pressure to break it, Sukuna’s body was practically indestructible when it came to humans and you had unfortunately witnessed him growing back a foot once when it had gotten severed in a fight (you’d never forget the way it all molded back in bone, muscles, tendons and flesh, nor the sounds it made), and continued before he had a moment to prattle off again. “My parents love me, and my mother knew I didn’t want to marry since she was arranged herself… But there’s only so much they could do anyway and they tried to keep me hidden, but…” you stopped and scowled, remembering the priestess of the village pairing you up before you had ultimately left everyone and everything behind.

After that, it was how you wandered into Sukuna’s domain, seeking a new life in a place you wouldn’t have been able to ever been found by anyone that knew you. What you didn’t expect was seeking a way of salvation in the means of someone who couldn’t quite offer it.

He was quiet for a few moments, eyes scaling across every inch of your face, possibly seeing ever blemish, pore, markings, and any imperfections as he went, before he hummed and arched an eyebrow, “And yet, you still left them. Can’t imagine how that broke their little hearts, and can’t imagine your poor little husband-to-be,” he broke into a hiss, eyes staring at you, but more-so they were looking through you and he was seeing something else entirely together, “You don’t wanna go back to a place where you’ll be living a like little placeholder doing what you’re told to do, but you come here to nearly do the same and you don’t want to leave… Why is that?”

He knew, and he just wanted to hear you say it.

You swallowed, holding his gaze steady and murmuring out the words that nearly got lost in breeze outside and the steam rising from the bath, “I’m perfectly fine here…”

You didn’t answer his second claim, too afraid of his reaction.

Sukuna abruptly freed your ankle, eyes dangerously narrowed in a heavy smolder and his tongue making itself seen again as he curled and swiped it along all his fingers to lick your blood free of him and left your leg alone to sit atop his shoulder. A breath of a dark and velvety chuckle left him, tickling at your brain and making your skin erupt into more chills at the way it vibrated through your legs and the rest of your body as he pulled free his third hand to give you his fourth while rolling his neck and facing back forward. You took his hand without a word, slowly going back to cleaning underneath his nails as you tried to process that he truly had picked you apart without even you having to tell him anything.

“So interesting. You little brat, you oughta be grateful then… If only they could see you now though.”

You didn’t have an answer to that, your lungs squeezing for you to take a breath and your heart slamming against your ribcage, knowing damn well if your parents found out you were serving and lusting after the man everyone feared they’d be crushed you were in his clutches. However, they’d believe you didn’t come to him willingly, believe you to be hypnotized by the curse from one of his abilities, though it was far from the truth. And you were grateful, you had stayed at the palace for a long while and nothing had become of you (read: you becoming his dinner), which was why your captivation by him only seemed to grow and you wondered if Sukuna only kept you around for you to tend to his needs.

You had half a mind to say something, thinking that perhaps his little speech was of means to get you to confess on why you had lingered about for so long and never actually tried to escape like some of the other servants did, but Sukuna was Sukuna, he didn’t care about petty, little, insignificant human feelings. Part of you thought about placing your hand atop the side of his chest, spreading your fingers along the significant width of it to look for that steady beat underneath all the flesh, blood, muscle, and bone to see if his heart still beat; a silly thought of your behalf, he wouldn’t be walking if he didn’t have a heart, but you assumed it more to coax you in a metaphorical sense than physical. Your affection for the man was far beyond that of only wanting to be his bedmate, something you knew you would never get no matter what, something that was incredible foolish of you to think of as you could feel the Gods smiting you for thinking you’d ever be anything more than another human to Sukuna, and nothing more than that of a pet to him.

And for that, you kept your mouth shut, keeping your true wants of wanting to feel him in more places through your kimonos tucked away in your heart and only obliging him for whatever he wanted when he asked.

You really were pathetic.

Sukuna didn’t speak again for a while, long enough for you to finish on his last hand and move to wash his hair. The pretty pink locks were always in an arrange tangles for the most part, slicked back on his head with oil and matted with… other essences you didn’t like to think about as you were meticulous in the way you washed it. When his shoulders relaxed as your nails scratched through his scalp, you grinned behind his head in victory, spending a less than needed amount of time there since it seemed he liked attention in that spot as you freed it of more gunk. Though, wrangling another particularly hard knot free and soothing your fingers through the strands, you took notice the unease in the atmosphere; Sukuna’s biceps bunching in like coiled snake poised to strike, and the veins in his forearms and hands making themselves known in a show of his rising agitation.

He was getting annoyed.

You were ready to ask him what was wrong or you were doing something he didn’t like, stomach becoming heavy with anxiety, but he beat you to the punch with a series of words that that horrified you more than that time he had you feed him severed fingers like grapes into his reclined form and awaiting maw doused in the bits of flesh and blood that came from them.

“I’m bored now. And I’m sick of playing this little game you’ve conjured up.”

Fear struck you for a moment, a feeling of absolute terror that Sukuna had grown bored with your existence entirely and was about to dispose of you threatening to make you literally bow your head into the floor and beg for him to keep you around. You hadn’t wanted to sound so desperate for him, but (pathetically) he was all you had and you would have been telling the biggest lie if you said he wasn’t what your mind and body had been craving the moment you laid eyes on him.

The words were on your tongue, ready to plead with him to give him whatever he wanted and start up a rebuttal that if you were so interesting that it would be best if he kept you around, when the familiar sensation of his nails grazing the skin around your ankle stopped you, letting your eyes wander over the way the tip of them so deadly but gently drew a pattern around the bone of your ankle before he curled his fingers around it in a strong grip. The heat from his fingers was boiling, nearly feeling that he was searing into your skin to melt the flesh away until he could feel your bone, and you opened your mouth to say… anything, but were thrown for a loop when suddenly your vision was warped and your world bent and turned upside down.

Literally.

Sukuna tugged once and one moment you were staring at his nails scratching at your ankle and coiled his long fingers around it, then the next you were underwater.

You didn’t get a moment to even process really how it had happened (your mind quickly concluding though after you heard the splash that he had dragged you over his head – flipping you – and into the bath) or how the hot water was pricking into your face like needles, stinging and burning your skin in stabs as you gritted your teeth before you felt his hands curl under your armpits and lift you free from being underwater. Your nose was clogged from the onslaught and your eyes watery from the invasion, something you tried dastardly to rid yourself of before you faced him and let an array of words fly off your tongue if you hadn’t finally looked him in the eye after coughing and sniffing through all the water.

You were pissed, and he knew that. And it was something he was expressing extreme humor in as well.

Sukuna had that same grin on his face, gleefully taking in your face and the rest of your body that was presented to him as you only glared with about as much dignity you could’ve mustered for someone that had gotten roughly handled and drug into a bath full blood and anything else imaginable. He hoisted you up closer to him, your erratic blinks from the motion flicking stray droplets free from your eyelashes as you felt your legs stretch as wide as they could for your knees to sit onto either side of his hips and hover you over his bare lap. You didn’t dare to sit down, your nerves pricking as a voice in the back of your mind screamed from the close proximity of you two, and instead only stared of what you could of his face while awaiting for him to speak.

“You look like a drowned cat; all weak and pathetic… but I can tell you got something to say, so say it,” he goaded at you, teeth as white as ever reminding of the old folklores you had been told of beasts in the ocean water with just rows of sharp teeth that tore flesh apart so easily.

Frustration welled within you, every single insult of a name you wanted to call him sitting on your tongue sour for you to spit out. And yet, you didn’t, wanting to leave him egging you on in want for you say it to him.

And it worked.

Sukuna brought you closer, his natural musk making you dizzy while you alternated from looking at his sharp canines (that you still longed to know what it felt like to have them bite into your lip, or graze across your collarbones), and the intracity of the tree bark-like protrusion he had on the left side of his face (that you wondered to know what it would feel like against your lips if you kissed him where his cheek was to be, and hoping that he could still feel it underneath that partial mask), and holding your breath to keep from fainting in his hold from being so close.

“C’mon, say it.”

Your face was hot, not only from being dunked into the bath water, but from his dangerous nearness and you hovering over his lap in nothing but your nagajuban and him being completely bare in the water below, something you tried desperately not to let show on your face was affecting you and something you tried not to let your libido wrap around too much for your excitement to take shelter in more as well. You had half a mind to just stare at his lips, thinking perhaps that would give him the idea of what you really wanted, but with Sukuna’s face coming closer and the hold he had on your becoming tighter, you couldn’t help but to only stare at him.

You frowned, a nasty scowl deepening on your face as he continued talking.

“I know how bad you want to, you’re not as discreet as you like to believe you are. What’s the matter? Afraid of a little word? Or are you just waiting on my permission like always? Well, you have it, go on, tell me what I want to hear –”

“You’re an asshole.”

You weren’t sure if that’s what he wanted to hear, but it was the first words you thought of and the first words you got out of your mouth. A lie you would be telling if you said it didn’t feel good to call him that, but a screaming in the back of your head telling you what you had was just going to cost you dearly. All feelings left you, dread imminent for just what he had said: your bratty mouth. Your tongue was venomous, saliva bringing itself forth from your gums as you thought of ways to backtrack what you had just told him but finding nothing and leaving you drowning toxin as it seep back down your throat to settle in the bubbling acid of your stomach and constrict around your heart to leave it panging in aftershocks for what you had done. A swallow was all you could muster, blinking as innocently as you could as you awaited his reaction.

And from his expression, you had actually managed to catch him off guard… but that wasn’t always the best idea.

God, you had really done it.

Though waiting on him to bite back surprised you, as Sukuna’s lips twitched first, then his fingers tightened on you before he threw his head into his shoulder blades and laughed; full-on guffaws you had ever rarely seen the man do that shook his body and echoed throughout the room. Sukuna’s laugh bordered on one of most eerie and horrifying sounds you had ever heard, he laughed boisterous and without a care in the world, but usually whenever he laughed he did it for a purpose. A purpose in which was in his favor, like whatever was presented to him in a challenge and he knew already he’d come out on top in his victory, he would laugh.

That made you all more anxious for what was to come.

You only watched the swell of his Adam’s apple bob for a few seconds longer, his chest rising and falling with each breath as you were jostled in his hold before he stopped with a loud sigh and craned his head back forward to look at you. You tried to remain as impassive as you could, but it was hard with someone like him who could scrutinize you with a single glance, and it didn’t help either whenever he leant back into your face with another of his vibrating hums and a newfound, pleased light in his eyes you hadn’t ever had the chance to see before.

Sukuna smiled again, a third hand rising out of the water to trail a nail against your cheek as he tutted at you, “Now was that so hard? Want me to praise you for it now? Must feel good doing what you’re told and getting a reward for it…” A lethargic blink on his behalf let you watch a droplet fall off his own long eyelashes, his next words slow and with a hidden meaning that made your skin pucker into chills went you thought too hard about it, “Keep talking and I’ll give you a treat like the good girl you are.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in, flustered by his voice and annoyed by the way he was talking to you altogether. Am I a dog now? Disregarding the way your stomach fluttered with the ghost of butterflies at the way he spoke, you realized Sukuna truly was only wanting to mess with you, like he always did. It really was just that; he wanted to provoke you enough to get you to snap back at him so he could laugh and tease you as he saw fit for his entertainment. He had gotten bored with your compliant behavior and wanted to strike a nerve in you somehow, dragging you into the bath whenever his little psychological warfare didn’t work against you and winning the upper hand once he got you in.

The back of your teeth mashed together, that feeling of frustration balling back up into your chest when you thought about if that’s what he really wanted then you could give it to him. You could test how far you could go with the insults if he was allowing it, your tongue sour to scrape all the bitterness off of to get what you really wanted to say to him out in the open. Consequences be damned, if Sukuna really wanted you to keep talking, you would.

You glared at him, getting even more annoyed whenever he only seemed to grin harder, and let the ties holding back your submissive behavior snap, “Is that what this all is? You just want me to degrade you? Call you an asshole, a prick, a bastard? I could go on…” You felt confident in speaking to him, nevermind he could easily squeeze until your eyes and spine popped free of your body, but the more you spoke to Sukuna like that, the more you felt alive. Why had you not done it before knowing you could live in the end?

His lips puckered, a low whistle breaching your ears and he let another devious chuckle out as he rolled his neck, “Such nasty words for a pretty mouth, maybe I made the right choice in not cutting your tongue out…” His words did little to scare you, knowing if he had truly wanted to do it he would have the moment you caught an attitude with him. A finger pulled at your bottom lip, exposing the bottom layer of your teeth as he tapped his nail against your teeth, the clicking noise annoying you as much as he was in that moment. You took a bold move then, biting down on his finger in retaliation for putting in your mouth as he only seemed to tiredly sigh and press down on your tongue with a squint, “Have you not ever heard to not bite the hand that feeds you? Then again, you’re some lousy, village girl with no education… I shouldn’t expect much from you.”

You let go of his finger, pissed with his little comments about you that were less than a praise (or his own twisted version of a praise), and squirmed in his hold. You dug your knee into his hip when you realized you couldn’t move that much, then at a loss of anything to bite back him said what was on the tip of your mind again, “You’re annoying me. This time, I will really leave.”

A bark of laughter made you pause and huff at him, ready for his next insult as he returned to pulling at your lip, “I’ve lost count how many times you’ve bitched about that, and frankly it’s gotten on my last nerve…” His hand gripped your face again, squishing your cheeks and forcing you to look him in the eye, “You and I both know you don’t want to leave.”

You didn’t have a doubt that he could feel the warmth of your cheeks onto his fingers, fisting your own fingers into your soaked robe underneath the water’s surface as you replied, “And how would you know?”

There was a beat, the breeze outside going quiet once more as the crickets left and you were left alone with Sukuna, and you knew then you should’ve bit your tongue on that question. The ambiance took a devastating turn so quickly, the banter between you two seeming almost lighthearted and flirtatious all but diminishing, and its place something… more, something hot, and you could feel that volcanic rumble the moment Sukuna’s pupils dilated the longer he looked at you. A bead of water trailed down you’re your temple and Sukuna regarded you for a long moment, his eyes remaining unblinking and unsettling you the longer he did so, before let go of your face and trailed along your jawline, lightly scratching at your skin as he went and whispering hotly into your face.

“Because your body is saying otherwise.”

A shock went through you, a chill sliding up along your spine to tickle at your brain that froze you for the time being as you tried to fight off the look of guilt on your face. He couldn’t have known… there was no possible way… The dread filled up your gut the same time you remembered your positions, desire napping in your belly like a fat snake steadily growing in warmth as Sukuna’s hand slid down to your neck, fingers making a show to tap your jugular before squeezing your throat once more. You fought back the whine as your lower regions throbbed once more, Sukuna’s nostrils flaring out again before he hummed and dropped his gaze lower to your chest.

And stared.

Just stared, until he grinned and circled his thumb along your throat, nail pressing in and –

“Nice tits.”

You balked, mouth gaping open at his claim and looked down to see what could’ve possibly made him say something like that until you realized you were practically all but nude for him to see. Your nagajuban truly was just some flimsy material you wore underneath your kimonos, the thick fabric of those keeping your covered, but since Sukuna had… asked you to nicely to take it off and you were just in the thin fabric that was stuck to your body like a second skin drenched in water and had become see-through and your nipples were hard and poking through the cloth and he was just staring at them – !

A noise that seemed to be what he was waiting broke free of you finally, an embarrassing, girlish gasp bubbled up from your lungs whenever another hand (him having four hands was a curse) rose up and pinched at your nipple experimentally and rolled it in-between his fingers. Whenever you wiggled and arched your back as you felt the numerous twinges of pleasures shoot down towards your belly and begin to make your body uncomfortable with want and flooding with the need to be touched. Not a smart emotion to feel on your part, and seeing his insufferable face split more into amusement only cemented that fact that you knew what was coming.

“So sensitive… Make that noise again,” he purred, tickling you and enjoying watching your face twist at his touch, “The act is cute, but I’ve grown bored entertaining it… Why don’t you really tell me why your body is feeling like this?”

“I’m not sensitive,” you argued back, trying your best to bat his hand away from your stimulated nipple, but to no avail as he resorted to just palming and squeezing your breast altogether. You huffed and let him have his way for the moment, gritting your teeth as you made up an excuse, “You threw me in hot water unexpectedly, of course my skin is going to react like this.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna’s hands left their respective spots, instead both wrapping around to caress the back of your neck and the other two holding your waist steady underwater, face coming closer than before and you stopped yourself from staring pointedly at his lips, “You lie, girl.”

He titled your head back, forcing your back to arch deeper and your thighs to brush against his sides as he pushed himself to tower over you, enjoying the way you bent under his demands and were pliant in his hold when he wished. To your horror, Sukuna sniffed you, the rumbling in his chest akin to a low growl as he squeezed at the nape of your neck, teeth too straight, too white, too sharp, on display as they gleamed with his victory and mesmerized you all the same. He laughed again once, titling his head at you like a curious animal before indulging you in your worst kept secret ever known.

“I know the smell of a bitch in heat, and you reek of it.”

If you weren’t mortified before, you certainly were then. Sukuna could smell you – Sukuna could smell you. He already had seemingly heightened awareness and senses, but you didn’t think he could smell… that. Your airways were restricted, mouth gaping back open with newfound heat seeping into your entire body; your muscles sagging and bones feeling nothing but like grounded mush as you could only stare at him with the truth out in the open. Though that very piece of information had morbid curiosity and stimulating excitement fueling a deeper part in you to know just where he was going with it. A treacherous, wanton part of you hoped he was leading to where you thought he was because… the idea Sukuna wanted you like you wanted him was… exhilarating. And if he had been waiting on you to just say it or something…

You didn’t get a chance to even process it too long, for Sukuna had started speaking again the moment you let the realization spread across your expression. “Foolish girl, you didn’t think I knew? Every time you’re around me you carry the scent of it, and I thought it’d be fun to play your little coy game, but I’ve grown terribly sick of it,” his eyes widened and you wondered if the glow from his eyes was your imagination, or his intimidation tactic, “You little brat, women throw themselves to my feet constantly, did you think pretending you weren’t like them would make me favor you? Make me chase you in the end until I snapped and put you in my bed?” he paused for another moment to let his expression morph into something near frightening, eyes dilating further as he took in your form so pliant underneath him and his nails scratched harder at your neck, “It doesn’t work that way, so it’s best if you own up now and maybe I’ll consider a solution.”

Sukuna’s words didn’t necessarily deter you, in fact him defending himself like that made it seem like you had quite the opposite effect on him as he was the one who had drug you into the bath because he had gotten sick of you playing coy. He could talk all he wanted, but the more he spoke the more he exposed himself to you, and that helped you in the end to fuel certainty that Sukuna did want you at least on a level of carnality. And if the way he was holding you and had been trying to coax you to admit that you wanted him in that same spoke for anything, you knew your efforts had not been vain.

Sukuna had kept you along with him for a reason, and you weren’t sure what that reason was, but you knew most of it was his physical attraction to you. And you had stayed for your physical, mental, and emotional attraction to him, but you both would benefit from what had been brewing between you two like a long, overdue volcano ready to erupt.

You didn’t flinch in his grasp, instead eyeing him gently before letting your eyelashes droop and pushing your shoulders back, mentally grinning in victory when one eye slid down to stare at your breasts again. “I –” No, try something else. “Maybe I did, but it seems like it’s worked out in the end, hasn’t it?”

Sukuna gauged you from a long moment before his face split out into wider grin, another short laugh he gave straight into your face as you tried to ignore the remnants of skin in his teeth and instead focus on that treacherous long tongue. “So, what is it then? You want me to fuck your brains out until you can’t remember your own name? Or you wanna be my little whore?” A finger returned to pull at your bottom lip, the tension in the room far greater than the heat as he had murmured those words in the same tone from before while you desperately tried to keep yourself poised to not unravel at the seams.

A sigh threatened to leave you when images flashed through your mind at his inquiries, both making you anxious for what was to come to leave your stomach queasy as well as your body responding greatly to the ideas. You didn’t have to hide it anymore as you felt yourself beg from the pleasure in the form of your thighs growing hot and lower abdomen tightening up, bravely bringing a hand up to grab his finger and place on it your tongue, his nail scratching you there as you slid the appendage along to let your saliva coat his fingertip down to his second knuckle before closing your lips around it in a tease and popping it out of your mouth. He only watched with an amused expression, though the obsidian that was his pupils told you a much different story to how he was feeling underneath that mask.

It was nearly like you were in the caged clutches of a beast, ready to tear into your flesh be it by a pure physical sense or just alone sexually. Sukuna’s claws were controlled and ready, the muscles in him ready to snap from being so long coiled back like that of an agitated snake and he was ready to reach out into you to have his way that had been a long time coming. Moreover, it had been only a matter of time before you unraveled free from your fine silk hold and tumbled down below into the tattered seams of purity confined within the branches of Sukuna’s depraved world, and you lost yourself completely to whatever he was offering.

There was no turning back, and you let that be known as you looked him dead-set in the face.

“If I said both?”

Sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “Then you are a fool… But,” he relinquished all hold on you, returning back to recline on the bath’s edge with two pairs of arms splayed atop the rim and leaving you to hold yourself up by sitting on his spread thighs. You watched the shadows from the flickering fire inside the lanterns dance across his sharp jawline and daunting cheekbone, making him look all the more dangerous and unreal as he tilted his chin up and looked down at you figuratively, a challenge present in those rose-colored eyes that fueled the burning in your gut. “I’m never one to turn down such a desperate whore, though,” he paused to look at his nails, giving off the indication he was bored, “I’m also not some commoner. You seem much more inclined for this, so why don’t go ahead and show me – or yet, show me and tell me how much you want me.”

He finished off by circling a long finger along the surface of the water, giving you a long look from the side of his eye, eyelashes sitting pretty and brushing along his skin as he blinked languidly at you awaiting to see your reaction. You didn’t necessarily have one, swallowing as you understood that Sukuna was punishing you in his own way by not touching you and making you act on the progression of what was to come, and while you were nervous about the idea (especially when you were sitting on his thighs so close to him and he always had at least one eye on you) you couldn’t help not to feel that candle light of confidence burn inside of you. He was obviously affected by your body, and if you showed more of your body…

You could feel the magma inside stir; bubbling out of control and rising to its hottest temperature before it exploded free of its confined space the moment your decision was made. It was scalding as it poured into your skin, nearly feeling like all the walls holding your façade up were melting away your flesh and letting Sukuna see what rested beneath all the muscle and bone. He had burrowed himself deep even if he didn’t know it, pulling your bones apart and snapping to make himself fit within the skeletal cage surrounding your heart as he only dug deeper and found the garden that laid your soul. And if your soul and mind had been bared to the dark trenches of Sukuna’s grasp, all that was left was show him all of you.

With a long, inward sigh, you lifted your hands up, undoing the sash of your nagajuban in finality. You had dropped your gaze down to watch your hands move instead of looking at him, knowing that his eyes would have pinned you in your place and you wouldn’t have able to even follow through. However, Sukuna was never one to not give his input (even when it wasn’t needed nor wanted), and from the moment you began to slide your robe down to bare your shoulders for him, he spoke.

“Not so modest now, are we? Never thought I’d see the day you’re not all covered up in those shitty kimonos…”

You returned your glare to him as you slid one arm out from a sleeve, face too hot and body beginning prickle from the weight of his stare. “You got me these shitty kimonos.”

He had the gall to look smug. “I did, perhaps I should stop though. That way I can see you walk around like this with your tits out.”

You didn’t have an answer to that, returning to undressing yourself with your lip caught between your teeth tightly as you pulled your other arm free and opened the remainder of your robe. You weren’t sure what you were expecting (all four of his eyes widening at the sight of your nude body? Him suddenly dropping that demeanor and launching himself at you? A little bit of that purr he did with his voice whenever he was cooing at you in a mock praise, but that time he was telling you that you were a work of art? Hardly.), letting your nagajuban float behind you in the bath while feeling free and desirable being naked, but Sukuna just sitting back and staring at you with the most uninterested and sleepy look on his face was not it.

You swallowed and glanced around, eyes falling on the bright moon for a moment before returning back to him, pushing your shoulders back to accentuated your chest in hopes that he would do something. He did not however, instead only raising another eyebrow and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but there with you. It made you annoyed; there he was one moment talking about how nice your tits were and touching them, then the next he was looking ready to curl up his lip at the sight of your bare body…

He was the most difficult person in the world.

“What’re you doing?” he eventually asked, tapping a finger against the rim of the tub and sounding exhausted.

You squirmed on his thighs, slightly feeling more and more self-conscious the more he just sat there with that stupid on his face, and rose your arms to cover your breasts, “You told me to show you and tell you…”

Sukuna scratched his cheek, yawning before he inspected his nails once more and smacking his lips, “All you did was show your body; already seen it. I was expecting a little more considering how pathetically desperate you look and smell.” You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to him only using one eye to look at you while the others maintained preoccupied, it was always going to be unnerving on how Sukuna could multitask on an inhumane level, but it was downright terrifying at times knowing that he could always see what you were doing regardless of where you may have been.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose. Your hackles raising with the desire to mouth off to him for his petty behavior. He had you naked sitting on his lap and he still wanted to toy with you, though you supposed he had a point since he had already fondled your tits and saw your body through the waterlogged fabric of your robe, and you had been expecting too much whenever you stripped yourself free. You supposed that you could show him more that you wanted him, but you weren’t too keen on begging like you knew his sick mind wanted, ready to gloat and degrade you the moment you arched your back for him and moaned. And to be honest, you were getting anxious and more excited the longer you two danced around the inevitable.

Only a fleeting pass of a multicolored imagination could let you guess how he was feeling.

Without verbally answering him, you decided to push aside your uncertainties for the time being to pursue what you wanted. He had given you the go, but while you may have not trusted your voice to provide the words for it, you certainly could convey your desire through pressing your body to his and preforming such actions. Luckily he kept his gaze on his nails, allowing you to scoot forward on your knees to up his thighs, growing closer and closer until you hit the wall behind him and were as close to Sukuna as you had ever been. He regarded you for a quick moment – a fast glance down towards your body you would’ve missed if you hadn’t been so close to him – before pretending to play disinterested again. You inwardly huffed, leaning closer to sit your ass completely along his crotch with a smooth roll –

You paused. That – Your eyes widened. It can’t be…

Sukuna only grinned. It is.

Despite the temperature of the water, the body part was the hottest thing in the room, sitting up high and proud against your belly and stretching up past your naval and scalding at the tip of. The sheer length of it made you nervous (not something you hadn’t thought given Sukuna’s towering height), but the feeling of it heavy against your flesh made you all the more apprehensive for what was to come. Genuinely, how were you going to get it to fit… and considering your ‘circumstance’, you knew it wouldn’t be an easy process.

A splash of water to your face brought your attention back from zoning out on a spot of Sukuna’s ear, looking back into the smug expression growing with glee when he noticed the worried look painted completely across your face. “What’s the matter? Surely you’re not backing out… after all that I would think you had more courage than to just run away with your tail tucked between your legs,” he tipped his chin down again, looking at you from a frightening angle, “You’re not going to disappoint me, are you?”

His words brought you free of whatever had you caged back, your lust blooming blue within the lava guiding you through to pursue what you wanted instead of letting your worries take over. You grew bold and furrowed your eyebrows, placing your hands atop his shoulder with your nails digging in and pressing yourself closer to his face, “No, I just need… adjustment.” You hoped he understood that. And you hoped he wasn’t going to just shove his cock in you without any more touching (no matter how tempting that sounded to you).

You expected a condescending laugh, his body shaking from how hard he did, or perhaps a scoff, but you didn’t expect the eye roll or the long sigh expanding his chest as the two arms underwater clutched at your hips, the hold possessively strong and his nails stinging into your flesh whilst slightly lifting you up from him without so much of an effort. “I guess we have to do this the old-fashioned way… But let it be known I’m only doing this so I can fit, I don’t need nor want you squirming and crying about how it hurts or doesn’t fit. Shit gets on my nerves…” he mumbled out that last bit as he maneuvered you to his liking, scooting you closer and sitting you down as his cock slid up between your ass and your stomach slid along the hard muscles of his own. His skin was still burning you, your skin puckered from his proximity and body humming with arousal.

Whenever Sukuna tapped a finger onto your hips in what you thought was an impatient gesture, you spoke, “What do you –”

You started whenever a fast sequence of pleasure darted down into your legs, your ankles rolling as it spread up back to your brain before manifesting completely atop your sensitive clit. A noise that was a cross between a gasp and squeal escaped you the moment you felt the flexible appendage alike to a tongue lap along between the parts of your pussy, wriggling along with the fat of it before the tip swirled your clit in agonizing circles. Your thighs shook as they fought to close, yet Sukuna’s thicker thighs kept them securely open atop his lap to keep whatever he was doing to you happening to his liking. You didn’t have a chance to think clearly or even ask what it was he was doing to you (or what body part that was), and all thought completely left you the moment that slick appendage parted your cunt apart with the tip and twisted its way into your absolutely drenched hole, rendering you the mess he knew you would become in doing so.

Whenever you gasped and threw your head back, Sukuna hummed with pure amusement.

“Mmm, you taste as good as you smell. And you’re absolutely soaked, you little slut,” he squeezed your hips and coaxed you to move them forward, “Oh? Don’t be so shy now, this is what you asked for so you might as well take what you can.” Sukuna continued to only sit back and watch you, propping his cheek into a close fist as took in every single expression that crossed across your face with only a look of mild amusement.

It was the mouth on his stomach you learned, the part seeming to have a mind of its own you thought on occasions if the numerous times you had spied it smiling at you said anything. The fact he could taste whatever was placed upon its tastebuds told you a lot, and if it wasn’t the fact that his tongue was currently fucking you and he could taste how your insides were it would’ve grossed you out. Sukuna chuckled as he watched your face twist into pleasure, that inhumanly long tongue lashing out across your inside in rough strokes as it probed you until you cried out loud enough to wonder if any of the other servants in palace could hear you.

The tongue mapped out your pussy in every which way it could to gather as much of your slick as he could to lather it upon his tastebuds. Your thighs began harshly trembling then, as you had locked them around his own while he slid his hands back onto your waist to keep seated nicely onto his abdomen. Your eyes rolled, your hips desperately trying to rock harder against him for his tongue to push deeper into your cunt and for your clit to hit in just the right spot along his flexed abdominal muscle. Your hands on his shoulders had moved into fists to anchor yourself as you began to push and pull as much as you could for how your mind was beginning to spin into dizziness and your legs were beginning grow weaker as the seconds passed both of you.

Sukuna only watched you with an impassive expression, looking like he could have been anywhere but there in that bath with you as you rode on his tongue. Your body was quivering, pulse accelerating as you felt yourself begin to slip down onto the slope to careen yourself down into a climax, and the noises passing through your lips by then were full-blown moans and you could take a very little note to the way Sukuna’s fingers were beginning to harshly dig into your flesh. It was then you knew it wasn’t enough, you needed Sukuna do completely dominate you; you needed Sukuna’s hands all over you and to touch every single part of your body to taint it with his own version of Hell. You were the lamb to his slaughter, you were the virgin offering themself up, and you needed to reject the Gods and humanity for your desire for the Devil in front of you.

You lifted yourself up the same time you uncurled a fist, coming down on his tongue as it swiped along the innermost part of you and tickled your spine. You clenched around his tongue and got delight in a slight pinch coming to his brow, bravely twirling a strand of pretty pink hair around your index finger as you moaned for him again. “Sukuna.”

His mouth twitched as he narrowed his eyes at you, all the while keeping your expression imploring in hopes he got the message. You were sure he did if the flicker of amusement glinted in his eyes for a brief second told you anything, but he wasn’t so easy to win over. Sukuna hummed and rose the one hand he wasn’t using to your face, dragging a nail along your jawline before tracing your lips, “If you want something, address me properly.” He spoke so calmly it infuriated you, his ability to remain unphased by your actions doing nothing for your confidence and making you regret even wanting to ask for it in the first place.

A shaky breath left you whenever you felt your pussy tremble around that tongue, each precise lick it gave to the inside of your cunt tickling and making you grasp for the long-awaited release you knew you were on the cusp for, the inside of your lower abdomen beginning to feel as if it was in a blazing fire from each fervent motion of his mouth and each rolling of your hips did to let his muscle grind along your tingling clit. The amount of loud moans he was pulling out of you was downright sinful, your grinding picking up as you tugged his hair hard enough to push his head back a fraction and angle your hips up to slide right along his body on the perfect spot atop your clit. A rumble in his chest made you clench hard around his tongue while your eyes fluttered shut when the vibration of it expanded out to reach the inside of you, a myriad of nerves tingling up towards your clit as your fingers tugged harsher onto his hair the moment you realized he wasn’t pushing you off.

“Please,” you whined, completely forgoing his order for you to address him as you should, “touch me.”

“Please, what?” he hissed while squeezing your cheeks, a fine edge to his voice that excited you more than anything. He was getting impatient.

Anxiety twisted its way onto your face, the word like a scorching coal on the tip of your tongue when you remembered what he liked to be called, and you shifted on his lap once more before parting your lips for the candied beg to finally leave your lips and grace his ears and ego.

“Please… Master.”

The smile that split his face into two should have frightened you, the way his eyes seemed to glow and widened should have made you more anxious, and the way he laughed should have made you think twice about what you getting into. However, none of that happened, not when Sukuna rewarded you for your submissive behavior and had you wriggling on his tongue once more when he moved both hands above the water to splay his fingers along your chest.

“Such a good girl, how adorable you sound like that,” he cooed, slowly and heavily dragging his searing palms down to your breasts as you arched further for him, “I suppose you earned it for obeying me…”

It was but a brief moment as the tongue inside of you stilled, your eyes reopening to see what caused him to stop until you felt the palms of his hands shift, the flesh atop them seemingly tearing itself open before warm breath misted across your aching nipples and teeth bit into them and tugged. You squealed and bucked atop his lap, another two tongues sweeping across your tits and his fingers creasing into your flesh he toyed with the flesh and rolled them around in his hands, bouncing with them with a laugh when he realized how much it did to you. Your anxiety dissipated the moment your body was flooded with more pleasure; that heat inside stoking itself in circles around your brain, heart and stomach as it grew and grew the more Sukuna touched you.

Your brain was pure liquid at that moment, only thinking of how fucking good it felt to have him tongue-deep into your pussy and his hands fondling your tits. You rolled your shoulders back and began scratching at his nape as you nearly started to create waves in the pool with how harsh you were riding atop him when the weight in your lower abdomen grew larger and harder, and your thighs were beginning to shake once as pressure pressed harder onto your sensitive clit.

Your muscles felt practically useless and the noises you were producing growing louder as his enthusiasm grew tenfold when his hold on your waist doubled down to almost bruising and you got to watch his nostrils flare at your behavior. You already knew Sukuna had been aroused just as much as you were from the thoughts of lust, and the thought sent a hard curl downwards to where your anticipated release grew in crescendo of wave tides.

You were close.

And Sukuna knew that. With a cackle he abruptly withdrew his tongue from inside of you, leaving you whining at the loss before he pulled you back a fraction and let it return to sitting atop your clit. One hand let go of your waist, a finger placed under your chin as he tipped your face to look back into his with half-lidded eyes, “You’re having so much fun you’re forgetting me. Though you’re dripping on me as we speak, I wonder just how much your cunt can take…”

You blinked as he removed his finger, holding up his hand in front of your face with the dorsal side facing you as you watched in horror and amazement as Sukuna’s nails shrunk. Gone were the talons you could still feel present on your waist and breast, instead on that hand was short, blunt nails, still dark in color as he flexed them and curled all but his index and middle finger down and pressed them against your sternum. Sukuna began a slow descent down your body, a cackle of electricity leaving his fingertips as he went that you could only assume was his energy, sliding down sensually past your naval, down in the curls atop your pussy, before they flicked into your folds. You braced yourself in that moment, Sukuna’s thick fingers parting your cunt open as he began to press his index in first.

Holding your breath you winced at the sting, the tongue from his abdomen already lubed with salvia and not as thick, as he watched your face carefully. When he slid in his finger completely in and took notice of the way you jerked and gasped at the new intrusion, you got the rare instance to see a look of surprise cross his face before it was completely taken over by the widest grin and a horrifying new purpose in his eyes.

Guess the cat was out of the bag.

“Virgin,” he hissed, a cackle born free from his twisted mind breathing out into your face as he pushed another finger inside of you and curled them hard. “Oh, you… You’re a delight.”

You whined at the sting of the stretch and his words, rolling your hips harder and more frequently against the tongue his abdomen had produced so that it lapped at your clit faster and turned the uncomfortable sting back into that saccharine pleasure from before. Sukuna wasn’t too keen to let it go however, slamming his fingers harder up into you and stroking them deliberately along your insides until they molded to him as all the while the mouths he had conjured up on his hands sucked and bit at your tits greedily the more your movements became desperate for a release. To which you knew then wouldn’t be long given the amount of stimulation you were receiving from the most sensitive regions of your body.

Sukuna seemingly found your virginity arousing to him, the hand that had been squeezing your hip darting up to grab your throat in a fast and hard squeeze, and one of your hands rising to curl fingers around his wrist as your airway was suddenly restricted for the time being. The mouths on your nipples bit down harder and rolled your skin between the teeth, and the extra tongue on his abdomen jabbing at your throbbing clit grew faster as you fought to gasp between his squeezing fingers and a wave of lightheadedness. It was not unwelcome however, arching your back as your eyes rolled whenever his fingers tickled the inside of you in lethargic bouts, and you could feel the ball in your stomach began to unravel in the appearance of your nirvana.

“Giving your virginity to me? You really shouldn’t have,” he snarled again, choking you harder after briefly letting up to hear you take a weak breath, “Take heed, brat, once you let me in, there’s no getting me out.” He laughed again whenever he watched your expression twist up, the look similar perhaps to those he had seen before underneath him, and picked up the speed of all his motions with a too wide grin, “Seems your pussy can’t take too much, are you really about to cum so soon?”

You were, you really were, but you were trying your best to fight it off so that he didn’t win so soon. However, staying quiet was not in your favor, a hiss leaving the man underneath you when you seemingly ignored him in favor of rocking your hips against his tongue and pushing his fingers deeper into your pussy. That simply wouldn’t do for him.

One mouth let go of a breast, allowing Sukuna to slap your tit once – twice before pinching your nipple even harder than he had before and slowing his fingers down at your behavior. “I asked you a question, you’d do well to answer me before I leave you to your own hands.”

You arched dangerously in his lap and scratched down his chest, all the sensations leaving your mind completely discombobulated as you babbled out whatever came to mind first, “I can take it – please.”

Sukuna tutted at you, leaning forward to press his hot cheek to yours, “I don’t know if you can… My fingers feel a lot different than your own, huh?” His finger spread themselves apart inside of you, and you thanked anything and everything that you couldn’t hear the obscene squishing you knew it was making in the water below you. “You thought I didn’t know? Walking up to me with your fingers smelling like your pussy, here I thought you were just being a little whore and teasing me… You just couldn’t help yourself.” His voice was hot against your skin, his tongue falling out of his mouth to lick a trail from your jawline up to your ear where he bit at it before whispering almost sugary-like in your ear, “Tell me, how many times have you fucked your own fingers to the thought of me?”

His words made you clamp around his fingers, all the memories of the nights you spent with your fingers inside of yourself those nights you spied Sukuna with another and could hear them all the while you imagined it was you he had pressed down into his bed completely ruining. Him knowing that you had touched yourself somehow still embarrassed you despite what you two were doing, but it didn’t deter you to not answering when you knew he could take away his own if you didn’t give him what he wanted.

“So much –” you panted, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders again whenever he rewarded you with a smooth lick along your clit and a curl against the wall of your plush cunt, “I always touch myself to the thought of you, Master.” Perhaps that was laying it on a little too thick, but you couldn’t find the means to care whenever it appeased him.

A low, ‘Hmm’ tickled you, Sukuna moving his face directly back into yours to let his nose and lips skim along your own, “Oh? I’m flattered...” he blinked languidly at you, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he watched you come undone atop him, “How many times did you cum?”

Your head was spinning, body feeling hot and the nerves inside of you tingling.

You clawed at his shoulders and shook your head when you felt the quivering of your legs increase, “I… I’m so close, please –" you broke yourself off with another whimper as the only answer he gave to that was to pull you impossibly closer, the mouths on his hands biting at you hard enough to bleed before licking up any stray dollops in a squeeze and let his tongue rub away at your swollen clit in fast tight circles.

“’Please’,” he mimicked your moan, snickering at your expression and releasing your throat to return to squeezing your waist, “How many times have you cum to the thought of me?”

You moaned his name again in a wail, your eyebrows furrowing with sweat beginning to line your brow as the combined factor of his fingers stretching and curling in side of you, his tongue rubbing along your clit and your grinding was nearly too much for you to bear. That one particular feeling was back in your lower abdomen; the weighted sense far different from the usual building orgasms you got. It was a pressure in your cunt that felt as if you couldn’t ignore and you needed to rid of it to get the tension out of you. Another moan passed your lips as you felt your mind and body begin to spiral into euphoria; you knew exactly what it was.

“Each time… All of them – ” you croaked off from trying to warn him into another high-pitched whimper whenever he dug his sharp nails into your side and pushed his fingers farther and faster into your pussy. God, he knew. He fucking knew it was coming and was trying his best to ease it out of you.

The thought had you unraveling at a devastating pace, your eyes rolling back into your head as Sukuna’s tongue slithered out of his mouth and his hot breath sifted across your face before he was licking the sweat off of you. He made his way down into your neck then, his smile pressed into your flesh there before he bit you. You cried out and it should have hurt you, but the pain and fear was far gone to feel with how Sukuna was treating your body. Wonderful near orgasmic heat born of pleasure radiated out of the bite in a humming electricity, your eyes staring into the ceiling almost sightless as everything spun out of control and became too hot for you to handle. The ball in your lower abdomen was stretching to its limit, your pussy clenching and unclenching as you felt it all began to descent into ecstasy the more he pleasured your body.

You whimpered whenever he bit particularly deeper, and Sukuna huffed into your neck, his lips beginning to move against your skin as he sucked at you and pushed his fingers as deep as they would go into your cunt. You arched harder against him in pure ravishment, your forms perhaps looking like an ink painting placed along on sacred scroll telling the tale of the Devil entrancing himself in a human woman, and you found his hair again tugging, his snarling against you and the added pleasure from all his body parts doubling down letting you know he quite liked it.

You were spiraling, his tongue dipping into your flesh to wiggle around the same his fingers pressed up against your cervix –

It’s right there, right there, right there, ther – Fuck!

“Sukuna – ”

Your hips rolled faster, harder.

He growled, loud.

Your frontal lobe completely morphed and only focused on him; just Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna as your back arched in a near gruesome backbend and your fingers knotted into his hair more. Another loud groan vibrated your entire being and your thighs blazed and tingled as they began to roughly shake with another obscene moan falling out your mouth. The pressure in you was too large to ignore then, spine tightening as you sought relief for it and when Sukuna’s tongue returned to rubbing harsh circles into your clit and his fingers pushed and curled, pushed curled, push and curled, push and curled – and your eyes rolled back – and just fuck it was right there, you were almost there – !

Everything abruptly stopped the moment Sukuna wrenched his mouth away from your neck, drawing a near mournful cry from you as all pleasure left your body when he pulled free his fingers and tongue away from your pussy as well. He sat back against the wall of the Onsen with a grunt, the orange lighting making your blood smeared along his face look daunting as he brought up the fingers that had been inside of you and licked them clean along with your leftover blood. You remained seated on his lap, body unsatisfied and heartbeat thunderous in your head befuddled from his behavior (and rather ticked off he conned you out of an orgasm), watching him be annoying as he sucked his free fingers of your juices with the most obscene noises you had ever heard come out of the man. He popped his fingers out with a grin, a dazed look in eyes as one rolled over to look at you.

“Sweet,” Sukuna sighed, smacking his lips obnoxiously and raising his arms up in a stretch, “Close your mouth, you look stupid gaping like that… Honestly, what were you expecting? You didn’t tell me you wanted to cum, so how was I supposed to know? I only pulled away because I didn’t want your puny ass fainting on me.”

You hated him (you didn’t), and you wriggled on his lap as the evidence of your uncared for arousal became evident despite the bath water. Sukuna regarded you with another eyebrow raise, watching you curiously as you lifted yourself up on shaky knees and meaningfully dug your nails into his shoulders as you readjusted yourself until his cock was placed back in front of you intimidatingly standing against your abdomen. Glancing at it through the water was enough to make you anxious again, spying the same black ink circled around the base of it and the reddened tip leaking from substance, and you had to swallow down the nervousness making itself known in your stomach when you took in just how far up it sized against you, and how thick it was enough to completely stretch you apart and mold your insides to accommodate you. And you how much you knew it would completely ruin you.

It shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did.

“Need something?” Sukuna’s voice purred out way too close to your face, your eyes fervently moving back up to his as you were caught blatantly gazing down at his cock. He looked smug, cheek propped up by his fist again as he had relaxed back, yet the painted emotion present his eyes nearly caused you to flinch back. Normally Sukuna looked as bored as he could be or humored about something he found funny, but being so close to him let you see the maelstrom of emotions that remained hidden within them. The lust was nearly able to be touched, to reach your hand into his world and take hold of the vines that would leave you littered with lashes in your skin but would do you good in the end to get through the precarious path.

It was enough to remind you of the throbbing in your neck and in your ankle from his rough treatment, enough to remind you of the light scratches on your waist, enough to remind you of the soreness present in your cunt, and enough to remind you of white-hot pangs of desire bubbling up behind your naval unsated. And it was enough to guide you through what you sought after for so long.

A sharp pinch and twist to your nipple brought your attention back to him, the eyes the same color as the strawberries you had seen growing in the mountains boring so intently into your own you had no choice to even try and pull away. He nearly acted like a bratty, pouting boy prodding and tugging at you to get your attention, but you kept that particular piece of information to yourself since you also did the same to get his attention.

Sukuna rose an eyebrow, “Well? Are you just going to stare at me or are you gonna tell me?”

His thighs flexing beneath you and his cock twitching against your stomach sent your mind into a frenzy, the vast urge to stop beating around the bush like you two had been doing winning out in the end as your impatience (and Sukuna’s, you were sure) had grown to its head. The lava inside was spilling out of the volcano, pouring out in a slow roll as the earth beneath it fell apart in the guise of your control and the world was doused in a glowing, fiery inferno that could only be quelled with the union of Sukuna’s own snake-bitten lust.

You fixed your expression into something of innocence, your face warm for what you were going to say and your resolve all but crumbled into diamond-filled dust whenever Sukuna looked upon you. “I prefer to just show you.”

A long finger tapped against his temple, his eyelashes heavy as he slowly blinked and murmured so velvety in made your thighs clench, “Then by all means, show me. Getting a little dry over here.”

(You could’ve done without the side comments.)

Boldly, you pushed yourself up again, letting a hand silkily glide down his chest to trace the tattoos until you got to his abdomen and made a point to individual touch each grooved muscle there. Sukuna regarded you with interest, and grinned whenever you skimmed fingers against the mouth atop his stomach and let the tongue hidden beneath lick at your fingers. You only kept them there for a brief moment, sliding down past the pubic hair before you got to the heat of his cock. Sukuna remained looking disinterested however, but your curiosity got the better on you as you curled your fingers around the sacred skin and gave it an experimental squeeze to test a reaction.

It was in your favor as you duly noted his chest hitch, but otherwise his expression stayed the same.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew, brat,” he warned, a hiss underlined in his voice letting you know his composure might’ve been for a show.

You bit your tongue to keep a nasty rebuttal from flying out of your mouth, instead leveling him with a half-hearted glare as you traced your finger around one of the tattoos along his base, “I can take it,” you argued back, watching his mouth fall into a thin line as his chin down and he glared at you from under his brow. His expression worried you for a moment, ready to just tell him he could do whatever he wanted as the magnitude of his glare reminded you of the day a pack of sorcerers made the grave mistake in trying to ambush him and it ended in a massacre, but his voice so hauntingly calm and quiet soothing your ears made you buck up nearly, the frequency of so like icy breath blowing across your neck and tickling you.

“Then take it. Go ahead, sit on my cock. I don’t want to see a single inch of me out you either, let me finally see what you look like with your pussy split apart by my cock.”

Sukuna didn’t offer you anymore words after that (and you tried desperately not to think on what he meant by ‘finally’), and while you were mentally scrambling over the way the words twisted your stomach and warmed your ears when you took in his relaxed position. From the way he was still just sitting there looking like a twisted, horrific version of a God with his cheek propped up by his fist and a lazy expression on his face like a panther, you realized he wasn’t going to do anything to help you further, sacrificing you to the clutches of desire to fend for yourself. You knew Sukuna was a man who was dominant through and through, his mere existence called for the submissive behavior of those below him, but you didn’t think he’d be one to let you do as you pleased when it came to sex.

Or, he was toying with you again, wanting until you said what he wanted to hear before he would finally lift a finger again and give you what you both wanted. Sukuna was capricious, his mood swings terrifying, so the little haughty, bratty act he was playing with you was him playing your own game as you did with him. You should’ve expected it really, playing a game with him was dangerous and anyone rarely came out the winner from his conniving ways, and with a sigh you accepted your destiny for carnality, biting your lip as you decided you nor him wanted to wait any longer while you pushed yourself up farther to let swollen tip of him bump across your clit.

Of course, you were still horribly anxious, never having your body breached in that way and with Sukuna’s large structure (were all dicks that big? Surely not, Sukuna was just big in general) you knew you’d be in for a difficult time. He only watched you as you moved him to your opening, your hands guiding him and you as you went and bracing yourself for inevitable. With a heavy inhale you began to push yourself down onto his cock, holding back a noise of complaint whenever his thick, blunt tip already began to stretch you far more than his fingers had done and you could already feel the sting present. While you had prep from him and the water from the bath had wet his cock some, it seemed still not enough as it was rough sinking down onto him in a torturous pace from the sheer length and width of him.

The pressure was painful you would admit, your insides nearly feeling like they were being intruded in the worst way possible as you slid down onto him centimeters at a time. It was a few moments of grimacing and holding back a whine while your other hand scratched at his shoulder before you got his bulbous tip in, a sigh leaving you as perhaps that way have been the worst part due to the shape of his cock but was quickly replaced with a choked squeal whenever Sukuna suddenly lifted his hips up and forced another inch of himself inside of your pussy.

“Oops,” he snickered, “Had to stretch a bit.” And without so much of another explanation reached a hand forward to pinch and play with your swollen nipple again between two fingers.

You gritted your teeth, a hiss leaving through the cracks of them as you let go of his cock and instead kept both hands atop his shoulders as continued your pursuit down. Your cunt was throbbing by then through the sting of pain, the stretch of his cock nearly making your eyes roll back as the feeling became a blurred line between just pure pain and unbridled ecstasy. Nevertheless, you were no quitter, squinting through your hazy vision to watch him amuse himself with flicking and twisting your nipple around as you continued on down to fully sit his hulking cock inside of you.

Your pussy ached and clenched as you pulled him into you, inch by inch you sinking down onto him, biting your cheek and practically holding your breath the entire time as it was a few more minutes before the entire brute of him was pushed inside, a choked gasp falling from your lips as you felt your walls stretch, constrict and throb once you got him where you wanted him. An electric shock spread throughout you whenever his cock seemingly pushed your innards apart to accommodate him, a dizzying sense fogging your mind at the completely full feeling you got just from sitting on his cock. He felt… amazing, nearly feeling like he breaching up past into your guts as the idea made you sway slightly and dreamily sigh when you began to feel your clit and cunt pulse at the mere entrance of him.

You shuddered whenever Sukuna made a rumbling noise underneath you the same time you flinched when you sat your ass onto his thighs, another choked sigh leaving you as felt you the muscles of your pussy contract and flutter around the new welcomed intrusion. You wiggled a bit before sighing in content and from how fucking good it felt having his hot arousal inside of you once and for all and how full you felt with him inside of you, before you arched your back again and sighed in complete bliss whenever the discomfort seemed to finally wane a fraction.

Sukuna switched from pinching your nipple to squeezing it, another mouth hand forming as it licked along your flesh in appease your efforts and reward you for taking all of his cock. He hummed in approval, “Look at that, never one to not back down, are you? You look good stuffed by my cock, perhaps the best you’ve ever looked.”

Overran by the fog clouding your mind and his words sending you into a state of abandonment, you rolled your hips once in a pivot, pulling him inches out of you before rolling back down until he bottomed out in you with a soft moan escaping your lips. You repeated the action when you realized how good it felt, discomfort leaving you and your throat filling up with a multitude of sounds as your brain only focused on the pleasurable sensations you were receiving from your cunt. Becoming easier to slide due to the amount of slick you were producing to coat him and your insides, you tuned in the way you felt each engorged vein rub across your walls, your skin puckering in chills as you continued rock up and down, up and down, up and down until you felt your body nearly melting from the attention.

Underneath you, Sukuna whistled, letting the mouth on his hand suck at your nipple harder as another arm rose for him to splay his entire hand across your stomach, pressing down with intent to feel his own cock inside of you and grinning whenever you whined and constricted up around him from the pressure. “You’re tight. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed at you, pulling at your nipple and lidding his eyes, “Tell me how good it feels.”

His voice made you want to curl in on yourself, hide away from him as the tone and assumption behind it made you embarrassed. However, there was no hiding from Sukuna then, slowly sliding about atop of him easy enough to not let the water splash too far out of the tub. “It feels so good,” you awkwardly started, gaining momentum as you found your voice better, “More than I could dream of.”

“’Dream’? How adorable.” The airy chuckle he gave reverberated throughout the room, the two hands below the water grasping your hips again as he flexed his fingers and secured you in a firm grip, another strange expression on his face as he leant back far enough to watch you rock on him, “Go ahead then, fulfill your little fantasy, I won’t bite.”

(“Unless you want me to.”)

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

With your clit and cunt throbbing and feeling him pushing against your walls so hot and insistently, you began to move your hips rhythmically against his, the stretch exquisite and your brain slowly shutting down any other thought that wasn’t Sukuna. You could already feel your body beginning to hum in delight from each way his cock slid along inside of your pussy, speeding up a bit as you watched his expression remain impassive, teasingly letting the mouth on his hand suck greedily as your nipple as he only watched you ride him. You could feel him purr practically whenever little, meek whimpers began flowing out of you, your rocking speeding up a fraction when it got easier with time.

Though with time, you realized the grinding wasn’t enough.

You lifted yourself up off of him, lethargically pulling him out of you and the slow slide of his girth making you grip him harder while biting your lip to keep from whining out. Once he was back out and his tip kissed your folds, his nails dug into your body for a brief moment (a break in his composure, you could argue) before you buried him back inside of you at the same pace, yet that time the stretch was tighter as you clenched up to get a better feel of his heat. The action of you pushing him back up into the hilt of you let a breathless moan fall out of you and hum from him, you tossing your head back once more with your eyes fluttering while the mouth on his hand kissed along your breasts.

You resorted to bouncing on his cock then, the feeling much better than that slow wind-up you had been doing as the water below you two began to slosh with your movements. Albeit the bouncing was better, you still couldn’t find that tangible spark from before, leaning forward as you didn’t trust your stability anymore as you threw your arms around his neck and pressed your tits into his chest. You breathed in Sukuna’s scent as you felt a hand slide to your lower back to follow the dip it made whenever your hips rolled, hoping that perhaps more contact with him would help you reach that level of euphoria you had been feeling from before, but alas you still couldn’t find the means of it. And with Sukuna only letting you use him and not making movements below to help, it wasn’t what you wanted.

It wasn’t enough. Your movements weren’t enough to get yourself off and they weren’t enough to get Sukuna off either. The slow way you were riding him told the tale of your inexperience, and Sukuna knew you wouldn’t be able to take the gentle coaxing the way his cock slid along inside of your pussy almost dreamily, softly and filling you warmth, all of that doing nothing for you. You needed the burn you felt from before whenever he had bit into your neck, when his claws had scratched at your hip, when his hand had curled around your neck to choke you. You needed a pinch of that pain that bloomed into a rose of pleasure, born from decrepit soil inhibiting curses and thorns that your mother had warned you about ever touching.

You needed him. You needed him in way you knew you could only have him.

You had to tell him.

Pulling away from his neck you leant back, duly noting Sukuna’s position and expression had not changed, still the same smug look from before whenever you started to bounce on his cock with his fist propping his cheek up. Your clit was throbbing and your orgasm was even further away, making a point to sigh and flutter your eyelashes in hopes he bit the bait better, “I need you.”

“Me? You’re the one bouncing on my cock as you please, what more could you possibly want?” Despite his knack to remain nonchalant to your beg, you could see it in the way his eyes lightened up; the slight shift in his expression morphing into something downright unnerving for a brief moment. You had seen that expression once before, whenever he had killed someone right in front of you and got the glee out of watching them ultimately surrender to him before they died. However, Sukuna made no indications he was ready to tear into your body (not in the hungry sense at least), so it only fueled you further as confidence seeped into your veins like hot honey. His eyebrows furrowed down harder at the expression on your face, yet his grin only grew, teeth sharper than you would’ve ever dared to try and fight back towards, and a malevolent intent brightening his eyes, “More. Tell me more.”

The heat from his cock was searing inside of you, sitting snugly within your cunt like it was made to fit there and heavy each time you moved only an inch, and it was hard to ignore the way he was twitching and seemingly growing hotter by the minute the more you kept him inside of you. You squeezed around him once more to test how far you push at it, watching as he only slowly blinked at you in a challenge and letting be known that toying with him like that would only get you so far. It was warning really, but you weren’t keen on caring as you pushed yourself forward into his face, lips skimming his as he had done you earlier before let a hand trail up to touch the protruding part of his face in gentle caress, moving to trace his lips whenever he was only sat still below you. You grew bolder, giving in and pressing a short kiss to his bottom lip and sighing in his face dreamily.

He visibly was affected by that; a slight eye widen and twitch from his cock again.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me yours, Sukuna. I can take it and you have me, so please –”

Sukuna abruptly stiffened with a growl, the hold on your hips turning to bruising and stinging as his nails began to dig through your flesh and draw blood. You watched all of his eyes flare open, his pupils shrinking until nothing remained but a small, dark spot and his iris burning like an inferno as they only seemed to glow brighter as you back off of his face, thinking perhaps you may have went too far in pushing your luck with Sukuna. Your heart may have matched the storming in his eyes as he seemed to look past you for a moment again, like he wasn’t seeing you altogether as an assortment of emotions flashed over his face making you all the more anxious.

His mouth had curled up in a sneer, his teeth sharped than ever than you knew could tear you to pieces, before you watched a flicker of astonishment and vehemence fill his expression, but they were quickly diminished just as fast as they had come and replaced completely with something else. Sukuna’s pupils sharply enlarged again, the crimson nearly engulfed as cruel determination erupted across his entire body, his eyes holding nothing but a horrifying intent and pure hunger. His cock inside of you throbbed once, your mouth opening to apologize for perhaps overstepping your boundaries when Sukuna’s hand that been resting of his cheek shot towards you, his fingers flexed and spread apart as he caught ahold of your throat once more in a hard squeeze.

His arms on your hips shot up around your back and pinned you down to the front of him, your tits smashing ruthlessly against his own broad chest shooting a thrilling jolt tickling your spine as you inhaled sharply from the close contact. However, whatever you thought to say or even tried to do dissipated into mere mush the moment Sukuna pressed against your throat harder and used the momentum to bring you in for a devouring kiss.

Sukuna was kissing you. If you weren’t in the predicament you were in, you would’ve let out a girlish squeal in embarrassment.

Though a squeal did leave you from how rough the kiss seemed be, Sukuna wasting no time to bite fervently at your lips to give him access to the expanse of your mouth, that sinful tongue of his mapping out what it could of your own and completely dominating you in that aspect. You let him, his teeth clashing hard against your own and the coppery taste of your blood pooling in your mouth before he swiped all that up with that serpentine tongue, Sukuna leaving no room for you to even try to take a breath or make a move against him. It should have disgusted you, having such a monster kissing you like he was, but you couldn’t find the means to even find a seldom thought to think in clarity whenever Sukuna was completely consuming you.

You were expecting it though – Sukuna’s breakthrough since he had the upper hand – yet it still managed to surprise you all the less when you were preoccupied thinking about his kiss. He stirred beneath you, his thighs flexing and his hips rocking up once in an experiment, before he roughly drove up into you further enough to make you squawk into his mouth that he greedily swallowed whole driving your tongue down still with his own. Your body shook, that spark of rough treatment making your cunt pulse in anticipation as he repeated the action once more with more vigor, picking up a devastating pace that had you bouncing in his hold and the water surrounding you both beginning to splash out from his intensity as he held you down to his content and fucked up into you as he pleased.

Sukuna broke away from you mouth with a hiss and let up on the choking for the time being, swiping the blood free coating his mouth and a wide grin on his face when you took in your expression before shoving a particular hard thrust in your pussy that slammed against your innermost regions and reveling in the way you openly moaned and fell forward to hook your chin over his shoulder. You couldn’t focus on the moon behind you both, your body jostling harshly in his hold blurring your vision as Sukuna fucked you like he wanted nothing more than to completely drill his cock so far deep into you it carved a hole for him and his cock alone. And you were content to let it happen, Sukuna taking note of that as he chuckled condescendingly and you felt his nails skim along your spine.

“Mm, you’re an atrocious kisser, I suppose I can account it though for you virginity – or your lack of now,” he hotly whispered in your ear, his tongue making a reappearance to flick at your ear while he sounded not the least bit affected from his actions.

You bit down onto his shoulder to keep the comeback subdued from him insulting you once more, a hum vibrating throughout his chest at the friction it caused and moaned into his skin. Your hands found purchase on his back, scratching at the skin of what you could as drool began to escape your mouth from the way you were getting mercilessly fucked, and all the while Sukuna only continued to drive up into you and listen the gasping noises that left your mouth.

You managed to say one thing however, a garbled variation of his name that you had to gasp for between each syllable in the same wavelength his thrusting was going.

“Su – ku – na –”

You wondered if the sigh you heard was of your imagination, though you could hardly deny it when afterwards he used the hold he had on your neck to push you back into his line of sight, laughing at your fucked out face and the hand on your tit bouncing along to keep up with toying with your swollen nipple. “Don’t run and hide from me now, you looked like you were enjoying yourself… No need to be shy, you just needed to get fucked, didn’t you?” he drawled out in a purr, that damnable tongue on his abdomen returning to lick at your clit again while he made you look him in eye.

Your pussy pulsed hotly, all your nerves going haywire from the attention your body was receiving from Sukuna, and you used what you could of your muscles to squeeze him of what you could. That slight discomfort was back, your insides getting thoroughly tossed around from the way his cock slammed up into you and he forced you to take it all without a second doubt. You tried to meet him as you went, that band behind your naval continuing to grow and grow in a dangerous vortex, clenching your cunt around him and trying to rock your hips whenever that tongue lapped at you in a slower pace all the while only giving choked gasps as the form of your pleasure.

His thumb tapped your neck, his pace picking up a fraction when he noticed the way you were trying to meet him with a roll down from your hips, and Sukuna’s composure slightly began to slip again. “This body…” he started out, that calm in his voice turning raspy with an underlining growl, “You… A pleaser, aren’t you? You should’ve thought this through, human, this body is mine now – you are mine now. There’s no running away from me.”

His words made a round of fluids soak him up further, your stomach twisting at the idea of Sukuna claiming you as his own, and you arched wantonly into him with your head falling back into your shoulder blades and your eyes rolling back into your skull. You could still faintly hear the sound of the water splashing and the resounding noise of your skin slapping together, though you could hardly focus when all you wanted was to appease Sukuna – be it by your body, or your words.

“I don’t care,” you whined out, sliding your hands down to his thick, roped muscle of biceps on the top pair of his arms, “I’m yours – take it – take me, please.”

You could hear Sukuna’s breathing get rougher, around the same time his hold on you got tighter and his pace get rougher as he slid his hands down to your lower back, arching you deliciously as your body began to lean back when his own leaned forward. He was borderline growling from his chest, a groan choked up in there as he slapped your breast again before pinching your nipple harshly, “How sweet of you, it’s a shame you didn’t realize the moment I saw you that you were already mine. Virginal, village girl too dumb for any rational thoughts comes to me for salvation, how could I pass that up?” A grunt passed through his lips as he began to weigh back down onto your throat, “If only they could see you now… taking my cock like a whore and begging me to make you mine… What would they think about their precious girl then?”

He was possessive, and God, you loved it. Your head was spinning as you spoke, not entirely too sure what you were saying, but not caring since all you wanted was to hear him talk. “They don’t – matter… Only you – matter to me – Master.”

“Maybe I’ll let you visit them,” he hissed, disregarding what you had said as the hand on your throat squeezing harder to completely cut off your airway for a moment. The black dots clouding your vision and your lungs shriveling in on themselves not enough to stop the pleasure coursing throughout you as he bent your back further, your head and back skimming the surface of the water while he continued to still fuck into you at a brutal pace. “Let all those meat sacks see the communal marriage candidate and what she’s become… Then I’ll fuck you right in front of everyone so they know you whore yourself out for me now. Make sure they watch the cum seep out of you when I’m done before I fuck you wherever else I please.”

You couldn’t even moan at that, though your cunt squeezing him as hard as it could told him everything, a boisterous laugh that formed into a snarl reaching your ears as the water in the bath sloshed around dangerously and high enough to splash out onto the floor above you two. Sukuna let up on your throat enough for you to take a ragged breath, your body jostling from his ferocious fucking and roughly handling you like you were nothing but a doll letting you moan a jumbled variation of his name when it felt like he was completely tearing your guts apart. He hissed again at your whine, his cock pulsing inside of you burning and a buzz of energy enveloping you both before he mouthing off again what he’d continue to do to you.

“How about your poor husband-to-be? I’ll find him for you, then I’ll force him to watch me fuck you at his feet before I gut him and he can watch you get fucked again as he slowly dies.” You clenched around him again at the idea, inhumane and disturbing perhaps to a normal person, but to you a fantasy in the making if it was Sukuna. Jealousy looked good on him, and the fact he was jealous over you and something far in the past? You dug nails into his forearms and squeezed him again, gasping each time his cock slammed up against your cervix as he huffed again and slapped your tit, “Fucking whore, you love that idea… I knew someone like you liked being fucked like this… how fun you are.”

Your eyes rolled behind your eyelids, stomach in knots with heat pooling into your lower abdomen as your pussy pulsed with each thrust he threw back into you. The discomfort was still present, but only a faint tingle, the overwhelming ecstasy shooting up through your legs and up your spine doing the most work for you and sending you careening down into euphoria further than you could’ve ever imagined. You could only gasp and whine as he continued to completely ruin your body, your eyes fluttering open the moment you felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere and a strange silence fill the air.

What greeted you was the lanterns flickering throughout the room, the moon waning away into nothing but darkness as the scenery changed to something you had never seen before and something disturbingly horrifying. Gone was the serene night inside of Sukuna’s Onsen, the pretty stars highlighting the midnight sky with the creamy moon shining down on the Earth, instead a darkened cave-like structure with what you could make out to be a giant ribcage of a long dead beast above you and a cesspool of crimson below you before you trailed your eyes back up to the man you knew was responsible for the sudden shift, sitting atop a large pile of skulls from different animals and humans as he only continued to fuck you through whatever he had done. You could only see his lower body from the lack of light, shrouded in fluorescent red watching his cock disappear and reappear into you while that tongue swirled your swollen clit with its tip, a cruel smile on the mouth atop his abdomen before you threw your head back and let yourself be used.

An invasion in your mind made you wince, an abundance of emotions hitting you all at once with variations of heightened arousal, vicious intent and clear signs of an acute sense of fondness. You weren’t sure if they were even your own, nor did you get time to even ponder on it a Sukuna abruptly changed the way he was going to fuck you. You gaped with a choked gasp, gazing sightlessly at the everlasting darkness when Sukuna gripped your hips as hard as he dared to without completely crumbling your pelvis, using your body suspended in the air from his lap as leverage to pull you onto his cock, bordering on violent to how he was fucking you but you could only seem to fall deeper into your release as it went.

The raw flesh of your pussy came to life the more it went on, vision nearly growing hazy as you dug your nails into Sukuna’s arms as hard as you could and your moans became nothing but choked pants and gasps. He was so deep inside of you… his cock reaching a place you didn’t think was humanly possible before his hand on your tits left it to press down on your lower abdomen, enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed underneath him whenever he pushed his cock further into you.

“I can feel your pussy squeezing me, I can feel your body giving in. Are you about to cum for me?” Sukuna spoke heatedly and full of malice, though it was also sultry and full of desire, the smile present on his face you could tell by the way words rolled off of his tongue. He choked you harder until you stiffened, your pussy securing him tightly inside of you and a long drawn-out moan leaving you.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes once more as you only focused on the way your muscles along your abdomen were contracting and uncontracting in the same fashion your pussy was pulsing. You were close; so so so close.

A bark of manic laughter made you moan whenever his cock jumped from it, Sukuna’s hand leaving your throat to grasp at your face instead to peel your eye open with two fingers, “Look around you, girl. No use calling for that name, not when your entire soul is now mine,” he let go of your eye and cupped your cheek, the tongue on his abdomen hurriedly licking at your clit as Sukuna returned to fucking you instead at a frenzied pace, his growling growing louder and his voice becoming raspier by the second, “Fucking – you’re gonna scream for me. Let everyone know who you belong to and who’s the only person that can fuck you like this forever. Say it and I’ll fuck you full of my cum.”

He was close. Right along the same abyss of a dark path as you were to pleasure.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

You could only manage a mumble, “I wanna cum.”

His hips smacked into you. “Louder. Say it.”

The reaction was instantaneous, your muscles bunching up, eyes watering as the pressure in your cunt grew tenfold, his rough movements, and your rapidly approaching orgasm let the words flow freely from your mouth.

“Sukuna, please, I wanna cum! Just –” a louder whine fell out of you when he pushed you down in retaliation for more of your pleas, struggling to take his hard thrusts as you finally felt yourself let go and felt your cunt gush and squeeze one last time as you rambled the rest of your begs in a high-pitched cry.

“More.”

“I’m yours, Sukuna! Lemme cum – I’ll do anything! I want you to cum inside me so much I can’t hold it… I want you to cumin me so much there’s no way I don’t get pregnant –”

Your sentence trailed off as a snarling groan took over the sound all sound there was and his pace kicked into a destructive speed, a distorted curse spitting off his tongue as something popped and a shuttering noise flew into your ears while the inside of you felt briefly stunned from the action. After that, your body was suddenly uncoiling itself in the throes of your orgasm with a screaming plea of his name.

Your cunt constricted around his cock in a poor effort to hold on, but the action had you spasming in one of the most intense orgasms you had ever experienced. The others paled in comparison from those late nights fingering yourself at the thought of him, your body feeling electrified from the intensity of it and your limbs jerking to find any part of his body to hold on to as you rushed through it. You didn’t know why your cunt and his dick felt like they were buzzing and vibrating from the release, but the heightened stimulation had you squirming throwing your head back as far as you could with a gaping mouth and eyes spinning into your mind while the hairs on your body rose from the change in the atmosphere. You were well aware you had gushed all over his cock as your legs jerked from the pleasure, and in the back of your mind you were only vaguely aware that he was still fucking you.

You nearly felt numb, throat feeling raw and horribly dry from the amount of screaming you had done as your body still bounced from his ravenous thrusts while you came down from that high in tremors. The drool from your mouth was something you didn’t notice, your fingers held onto his wrists instead and your legs shook, but none of that mattered when Sukuna groaned aloud, his hand cupping the back of your head before his follow-up snarl was devastating, his hand heaving you upwards back into his lap to sit you upright. You didn’t have time to register what he was doing until he viced his teeth back down onto your neck, the bite harsh and his thrusting gone savage while he fought through to his own release.

Sukuna had left you feeling spent and exhausted, legs quivering in their place as your moans fell into huffing noises with your body falling lack in his tight hold as Sukuna only hissed, snarled and groaned his way to finally giving you both what you asked for. The gush of air and energy you felt sparked around you two one last time, expanding throughout wherever you two were as the last of his composure leaving him whenever he pushed up into you with a ferocious jab that fluttered your pussy and a long-uttering satisfied groan vibrated the entire space.

Your eyes spun back as your mouth gaped when you felt the warm spurts of his cum shoot inside of your awaiting cunt and literally stuff you full as a feeling of mild electrification prickled the hair on your body. It nearly felt as if he never was going to stop, the new heat in your pussy sliding throughout the inside of you. You could feel from the thick girth of the liquid passing through your cervix and into your wombs as Sukuna’s hips rocked slowly with each new spray into you until finally he came to a full stop with his cock sitting snugly inside of you to hold all of his cum in your cunt for the time being. His fingers flexed as they returned to both grasping your hips with a hissing exhale that you felt deep into your stomach when he released his neck, and meanwhile you tried to force your mind and body to leave that fucking high and try to at least find yourself into some clarity from probably the best fucking and orgasms you had ever felt.

With your face tucked into his shoulder you felt comforted, closing your eyes for a brief moment as Sukuna relinquished parts of his hold on you, maintaining the hold in your hips however as he sunk back into a relaxed position. You reopened your eyes when you felt him hit a stop, the scenery of the Onsen greeting you once more as you slid down his body in fatigue, legs useless and body beginning to feel the effects of your tryst. You had half a mind to ask him what had happened (and how you felt his emotions), but you put it away for the time as Sukuna seemed like a content cat not wanting to bothered anymore for the day. However you did wiggle in his grasp, feigning a means to get comfortable as you grimaced from the tall-tale sign of the mess he had made of you; a goopy-like substance painting you both that you could nearly hear squish whenever you finally settled down to where you wanted to be.

You only hoped Sukuna didn’t mind, biting your cheek and keeping your chin tucked to your chest to avoid his eyes as you rested your head onto his chest. You held it there for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut in case he said anything, but once a few moments passed and you could only hear his breathing, you listened intently. Fighting through your own thundering heartbeat wracking around in your brain and ears, you could hear it, and it lit up a light inside of you the moment you heard the first thump.

A heartbeat.

More importantly, Sukuna’s heartbeat.

It was steady, perhaps beating slower than average, but it was still there.

The magma inside of you had gone quite; no more burning or bubbling in the danger of erupting, instead in its place heavy igneous rocks shimmering with perhaps a gem inside from your turbulent emotions finally being put to rest. It was comforting as it weighed you down, content to say in Sukuna’s presence as long as he allowed you and devote what you could to him as he needed be.

You could feel your cheeks warm, easing more into his body as you finally felt him stretch underneath you, then he was sighing like he was hurt. “Do you think me a monster so much you look to see if I have a heart?” he asked with a tease, a finger dipping into the water next to your hip to circle it around in the seldom that he may have been bored.

You were thankful he couldn’t see your expression, for he would’ve seen the embarrassment written all over it from you being caught red-handed over something so silly. With your cheek squished against his bulging pectoral, you answered, “No, I just didn’t know if curses had one…” God, you hoped he didn’t get offended by that.

He did not, a snort reaching your ears before he flicked your forehead, “I would not be sitting here as we speak if I did not. My heart is still intact much like your own feeble, little organ, though it’s ways stronger than yours as well, little human.”

Sukuna could not go ten minutes without gloating apparently.

You rolled your eyes safely out of his sight, fully prepared to just remain resting on him until he told you to get off of him or something, until he shifted again and you felt the organ connecting you two suddenly stir. You nearly felt like your pelvis was shifting again (God, you weren’t going to be walking straight for days) and had to keep from squawking again whenever his cock hardened while remaining inside of you. It popped and you hissed, trying to rise up to pull him out of you, but Sukuna was steadfast keeping you in his lap and his cock snugly inside.

“Owww,” you whined, pulling away from his chest to hold onto his shoulders while you mewled whenever he gave a sharp thrust inwards once more.

Sukuna grinned, nails digging into your hips and a cackle on his tongue, “You complain now? You’re an odd one, and part of me thinks you quite like some pain. Got myself a masochistic whore, do I?”

“I’m not – Mmmm, Sukuna,” you broke into a sigh, breath hitching and body coming back to life for pleasure whenever he started to play with your nipples again. Surely not he was prepared to go again… You knew he had stamina, but from the way he had fucked you… “But you just –”

Sukuna tsked, one hand leaving your hip to tweak at your clit and humming whenever bucked onto him, “You should know better than to think I was done with you –”

Your world abruptly spun again, one second looking into Sukuna’s shit-eating smirk, and the next you were facing the wall he had been propped up against, your hands gripping the rocks placed there and your body bent over. The only thing keeping your legs from giving out was Sukuna’s new grip on you, guiding your hips back so that your ass met his pelvis and his thighs slapped against your own, and his cock suddenly reentering you with little to no friction due to the amount of cum from both of you still inside of you made you gasp at how fast he did it. Fucking back onto him out of a bodily reaction, he laughed, a hand coming down to slap your ass before he gave one heavy thrust into you, the new angle reaching a deeper spot and starbursts breaking out in your vision.

“Look at you, already used to it. You and I are making up for lost time… I’ll fuck you like a bitch first, then I’ll make good use of that mouth.”

You could only moan, back arching deliciously and fingers turning into a white-knuckled grip on the rocks in front of you, and your thoughts could only focus on the fact you had a long night ahead of you whenever his hand slammed down on your back for a deeper arch and his skin began to slap into yours in the sinful melody of your communion.

#{🩸} nee fics #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut

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euthymiya · 5 months ago

Note

Poor wrio comes home to you after a long day, so you surprise him with new lingerie from chiori’s boutique because you’re a good, sweet girlfriend 🙂‍↔️ no this isn’t based on that one scene in your fic

surprise compensation ft. wriothesley

wriothesley is a hard worker. sometimes, when days are particularly long and rough, you have a surprise or two that makes things worth the troubles

contains: 3.2k word count ; fem reader ; adult content. no minors ; established relationship ; nipple play ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; wriothesley is a serial clothes ripper ; one joke about his cuffs

Reforming criminals is tough work. Wriothesley is capable for the job, of course—he thinks the state of the fortress under him compared to past years is proof enough that he does the job better than anyone else has. But regardless, it’s tough work.

Sometimes they send him ruffians for inmates. They come to him pent up and aggressive. They don’t miss a beat at lunging at him once the cuffs come off, ready to pick a fight and blow steam off on the warden of the prison himself. Wriothesley’s capable though—both in administration and in a fist fight.

That doesn’t make him rub his jaw any less from the sore spot where a punch landed today. It’s rare to get a hit on him, but not entirely impossible. He walks into your bedroom, grumbling under his breath as he rubs into the tenseness of his jawline as you sit up straighter in bed at his arrival.

“M’back, sweetheart,” he mumbles, giving you a tired grin as he carefully lays himself over your body, groaning as his muscles relax for the first time all day on top of your forgiving body.

“Rough day?” You ask sympathetically, titling his head up to inspect the blossoming bruise along his skin.

“You have no idea.”

“New prisoners give you trouble?” You smile knowingly, rubbing a hand over his back, pressing the heel of your palm gently into the tight, punishing knots in his muscles as he grunts into your neck.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures. “I put them in place.”

“Not before they set your jaw in place,” you snort, earning a huffed grumble under his breath from him.

“You should see the other guys.” His lips press a small kiss to your skin, sucking gently against your pulse point as he hums approvingly as he inhales your scent. “Rowdy bunch, but I’ll fix ‘em up.”

“Such a hard working duke,” you giggle, “they should compensate you more.”

“Hh?” He chuckles, lifting his head up as he grins at you, “you think so? Think I need deeper pockets for my efforts?”

You hum, leaning in and pressing a slow, but not heatless kiss against his chapped lips, running your hand along his collar until you find the first button, undoing it slightly to reveal more of his sturdy chest. He smiles against your lips, a bit excited, and a little more smug.

“I got you something,” you whisper, voice breathy. He can hear the smile between your words, quirking a brow as he waits for you to continue speaking. “I think you’ll really appreciate it.”

“Who needs better compensation when you’re always rewarding me,” he grins, toothy and charming as he nips at your lips before adding, “plan on showing me this little surprise?”

“Why don’t you unwrap it first,” you murmur, grabbing his hand and guiding it to the hem of your shirt.

His breath hitches—something more carnal, more desperate settles itself into his skin, flushing it a hot shade of crimson along his cheeks and chest, radiating heat along his fingertips that sear into your skin as he works them under your shirt, grazing along your body until they finds your breasts.

He feels the lace, and instantly, he can tell it’s not one he recognizes. It’s new. Something he hasn’t seen yet—it makes him let out a sound of impatience, deep and guttural from his chest as he says huskily, “well, if I must do the work, then so be it.”

He rips your shirt clean off with one tug. It’s his shirt, actually, but you claim it as your own—and you take it very personally, too, when it’s split in two from his impatience.

“Wriothesley!” You scold, gasping as the cool air meets your skin while he discards the torn shreds of fabric.

“There’s more where that came from,” he assures, clicking his teeth as he bites into your neck and says lowly, “let me unwrap my present in peace. I had a long day.”

You roll your eyes, huffing but complying quietly as he admires the dark gray sitting pretty and perfect against your skin, cupping the curves of your breasts beautifully. Wriothesley takes his time, so unlike the impatience he has just moments ago, as he rakes his eyes over your skin slowly. The icy shade of his irises land on the clasp at the front, darkening into a more intense, lust filled shade as they settle on it with interest.

“Like it?” You hum, “Chiori designed it just for me.”

“Did she now?” He raises an eyebrow, trailing a finger along the edge of the padding, tracing the skin of your breast as it spills over the bra, grinning as goosebumps rise where his touch lingers. “I really owe her a proper thank you, don’t I? This’ll make my job a lot easier.”

“It was my idea,” you say petulantly, “what about my thanks?”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s coming real, real soon.”

You gasp when his hand suddenly undoes the clasp, spilling your tits to the open, cool air of your room as he groans at the sight of your bare chest. He leans down, pressing a kiss to a nipple while you shiver under him.

“All this for me?” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your skin and contrasting the coolness lingering in the air. “Got a new little set made just for me?”

You nod through a bitten lip, shuddering as he chuckles against you. “Thought you deserved it,” you shiver.

“You shouldn’t have. I might get spoiled, you know.”

“You don’t want to be?” You tease, cutting off yourself slightly with a soft hitch of breath when his rough hand cups the other tit, palm rubbing against a pert nipple and making your eyes flutter closed.

“Oh, I definitely don’t mind,” he flashes you a smooth, toothy grin, one with all too much sharp teeth and all too little shame. “I just think it’ll be a bit of trouble for you to keep up if you get me too spoiled, is all.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad,” you say cheekily, “it’s not exactly a one sided transaction.”

“Oh, I’ll make it worth your while, alright,” he nods—and finally, he wraps his lips around a hardened nipple, grazing his teeth along the nub as his tongue swirls around it, pulling a sweet, helpless little cry from you that shoots straight between his legs where his cock is already half hard.

His rough thumb works the other, rubbing along and pinching teasingly as he whine into his mouth that traps yours into a needy kiss. “Wr-wrio—”

“Yeah baby?” He chuckles, “got something you need’ta say? I’m listening, sweetheart.”

He most certainly is not listening, you want to scowl, because he cuts your words off by pulling a sharp gasp from you as he pinches harder at your clit, making your back arch into the touch as he chuckles. His teeth nip at your jaw, kissing along the skin as your hand cups the back of his head and tangles weak fingers to grasp at his hair.

“You are so….”

“So what?”

“So smug,” you huff, voice strained between pants, “I’m never doing anything nice for you again.”

“Aw, don’t say that, sweetheart,” he pouts theatrically, “you might hurt my feelings. And I didn’t even get to say thank you yet.”

As it seems, Wriothesley’s way of saying thank you is yet again yanking fabric straight off of you, ripping your pants right off your lower half in an unrestrained moment of impatience.

You think you’ll really have to have a chat about his brutish habits one of these days.

“You can’t say thank you by ripping my whole wardrobe,” you gasp, glaring at him with sharp eyes.

“Why would it tear so easily if it wasn’t meant to?” He wriggles his brows, lips curled in a smug, amused little grin that has you melting against the sheets with heat pooling impossibly hotter between your legs at the sight.

Regardless of your irritation at yet another ruined pair of sweats. The conversation can wait until later, though, you think.

“I can’t with you,” you huff.

“Luckily, you don’t have to do much with me, anyway,” he murmurs, lowering his hands to trail over the lacy fabric of your matching gray panties. He marvels at the sight of you, eyes hazy and unfocused as they stay stuck at the dampened spot between your legs. “I-I…I’ll do most of the work,” he stutters.

“Don’t rip these, okay?” You grin, “they cost me a good sum. Surprises aren’t cheap, you know.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily as he mumbles, “you’re trying to kill me, huh?”

You giggle, blinking up at him innocently as you reply, “I’m trying to do something nice for you. You don’t think it’s nice?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” he spreads your legs, hovering between them as he eyes the wet, darkened patch of lace against your dripping cunt even closer, “I just can’t promise I’ll survive long enough to properly appreciate it.”

With that, he presses a kiss against your clit, right through the fabric as you whimper at the minimal contact, twitching into his touch as he laughs.

“Maybe you won’t either,” he flashes a toothy grin, making you huff, unamused.

“Don’t tease,” you scold, “you should be nice to me.”

“You’re right,” he nods, wrenching your thighs apart as he pulls your panties off enough to expose your needy pussy, but not enough to let them past your plush thighs. He like them there, decorating your skin like that for him to see even as he brushes his nose against your clit and kisses at your entrance.

The slick pooling between your legs coats his lips, earning a hum of approval from him as he murmurs, “so sweet. I love this sweet little pussy—don’t you?”

“Wr-wrio—oh, f-fuck,” you arch into him, a surprised gasp leaving your lips, swollen from biting. His tongue is flat against your clit, flicking back and forth against it as his fingers tease your folds, collecting your essence before slowly pressing into your walls.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, “we don’t have anything like this at the cafeteria.”

“Oh my god,” you whine, slapping his shoulder as he chuckles against your cunt, the vibrations and the hot flash of his breath making you shake against him. “You are so filthy.”

“Yeah? And you’re not having a good time by it?” He challenges, fingers smearing your slick that coats the digits along your inner thigh, grinning as he adds, “you seem like you’re thoroughly enjoying it.”

“Wriothesley,” you plead desperately, “stop teasing. I need you—please.”

“Fuck,” he swears. There’s a harsh twitch of his cock through his pants at the utterly broken sound of your voice—it makes him sink his fingers in instantly before his lips wrap around your clit. “You got me, baby,” he murmurs between sucking on the bundle of nerves, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses against the swollen nub.

“Oh—y-yeah, like that,” you praise, hands finding his hair as your fingers wrap around his strands and tug him impossibly closer. You think he might drown in you—he thinks he might not find a better way to go. “Feels…feels so good, baby.”

He groans into your folds, lapping away at them as his fingers are replaced by his tongue, tasting the sweet, dripping essence of you. His hips grind against the mattress slightly, chasing the slightest bit of friction to relieve the unforgiving throb of his cock.

“M’gonna cum,” you whisper, shaky and broken.

“Then cum,” he demands, “for me.”

You do—like his words command your pleasure. As soon as he tells you to, your cunt flutters with short spasms, pleasure forcing your body into a stiff, tense form as your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back. His tongue works you through your high, traveling between flattening against your clit and fucking into your hole until you’re whining from sensitivity, pulling him away by the hair.

He pulls away. Lips smeared with your slick. Eyes unfocused and dark. Cheeks flushed and red. Hair messed up and plastered to his sweaty forehead.

He looks more fucked out than you, almost. Like he’s just been utterly blissed out to the point of being wrecked just by tasting you.

You giggle, tugging him up to hover over you as you let him pull you into a slow, sensual kiss. You can taste yourself on him. You don’t mind—not when it tastes like his love for you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, “did you know that?”

“I had a hunch,” you breathe, “you seem to be rather enraptured by me.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” he gives you lazy grin.

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you offer him your reply in the form of a hand sneaking between your bodies, carving space between the press of him against you. Your hand rubs him through his pants, earning a low groan from him as he stiffens over you.

“Your clothes are in the way,” you pout.

He huffs a breathy chuckle through his stifled groans, eyes closed as he mumbles, “that’s a problem, huh?”

“A big one.”

“I can fix that, I think,” he hums.

Watching Wriothesley strip himself of his clothes is intimate. Undressing his scars is like holding a magnifying glass to his past, like studying every dark and hurtful era of his life under a microscope.

It’s nice to know he trusts you like that. It’s even nicer to know he wants to trust you like that. Aches to trust you like that. Needs you to let him trust you like that.

Your fingers run along the scar on his chest, and he shivers at the gentle (something he’s never been used to) feel of you.

“I love you,” you murmur.

“Getting sentimental on me?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “don’t like it?”

“Love it,” he laughs. And then he leans down, nose brushing against yours as he kisses you softer than he has yet to kiss you for the night. So delicate, you’d think you’d break. Maybe he’d break. You’re not sure who he’s trying to keep together at this point. “I love you.”

“Then take me,” you whisper, “I want you.”

His breath hitches at that. Something about the way you look at him makes him decide that taking you isn’t enough. He need to give himself up—needs you to accept him.

“Yeah? And I always want you, sweetheart,” he grins smoothly. Tucked away underneath that smooth, boyish, rough and rugged charm, Wriothesley is gentle. Delicate. Vulnerable.

You can see it in the way his hands shake as they grab your hips to help line himself up with your entrance.

“M’ready, Wrio,” you murmur, pulling him into a soft, open mouthed kiss as he presses his cock against your dripping entrance.

He’s hard—painfully, achingly, and unbearably impatient to feel him around him. The curve of his length has always fit you perfectly, nudged against the right spots and dragged along the perfect ridges of your walls without trying. He sinks into you slowly, inch by inch. Like he’s scared the moment will end too quickly if he goes any faster.

“You feel that?” He groans, once he’s fully pressed into you, buried to the hilt. “Feel what you do to me? You’ll be the death of me one day.”

“They’d get tired of you,” you breathe, strained voice from the way he’s practically splitting you open. “In the afterlife. Send you right back to me.”

He laughs, head burying into your neck before he roughly pulls out just to slam back into you. Once. Twice. Again. Another time. Once more. Until a steady, unwavering rhythm is built and his body is practically one with hours.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting out whiny little pants against your ear that make you question if you’ll near the edge again simply from the sound of him alone. “Fuck, sweetheart—you…you’re so perfect. Take me so nice, make me feel so good.”

“How good?” You ask shakily, voice a strangled, choked version of itself as his thrusts make your words quiver with every snap of his hips.

“Good enough to buy out that damn boutique,” he grunts, “get you every color. Every fabric. Every style. And then I’ll fuck you in all of them to see which one looks best, yeah? You like the sound of that? Think you can handle it? I bet you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, eyes tearing at the corners as his fat tip presses against the spongy, sensitive spot against your walls, balls clapping against your ass as his pre cum mixes with your slick and leaves a mess between your bodies.

You don’t mind it though. You like the mess. You like the proof of him taking you, making you his, having you until your mind can’t think straight.

“Gonna need more than that,” he says lowly, biting your shoulder and making you whimper. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes—yes,” you sob, “I want it. Want it, want it so bad. Want you to take me right there in that fitting room.”

“Oh?” He breathes out a small chuckle, “that’s quite the fantasy. I’ll see what I can do, baby.”

His thumb reaches to find your clit, rubbing harsh circles in sync with his low, strained voice as he calls you baby. You break at that—hurdle into your second orgasm while his fucks into you with a sloppier pace.

“Oh—g-god, Wriothesley! C-cumming,” you gasp.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, “yeah, yeah. Let me feel you, princess. Fuck.”

His hips are frenzied now—like the height of your pleasure being achieved lets him free, lets him stop holding back as he chases his own orgasm desperately.

It doesn’t take long. One tug of his hair from you to pull him out of your neck and into a heated kiss makes him fall off the edge himself, cock twitching and pouring thick, hot ropes of cum into your abused cunt. The aching pleasure between both of your legs should be too much.

It’s never quite enough.

There’s no enough of Wriothesley. He’s not sure there’ll ever be enough you, either.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re so good to me, baby. So sweet. Can’t believe you’re my sweet little thing. Come home to that pretty face and this perfect pussy. What’d I do to deserve it?”

He’s babbling, words falling from his tongue in cracked syllables as he paints your walls white. Finally—finally, after what feels like an eternity of over sensitivity, he stills. Milked dry with the remnants of his sticky release coating your walls, the insides of your thighs, the base of his cock. He doesn’t even bother pulling out—just collapses over your body as he buries his nose between your breasts.

“You think she could make a set that matches my cuffs?” He asks, grinning into your skin.

You huff between labored breaths, slapping his shoulder as you mumble, “I’m not asking that. I have a sense of dignity.”

“You want me to ask?”

“Absolutely not.”

He pouts, looking up at you as he grumbles, “you’re no fun.”

Wow. Don’t ask me why I produced 3k words about lingerie. I just have lots to say on the matter I suppose

#writing tag #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #wriothesley smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

1K notes · View notes

aureatelys · 17 days ago

Text

she lives in daydreams with me

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 7k.......

content warnings: 18+ please MDNI, fluff and smut, service kink sorta, mild d/s undertones, oral (f) receiving, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, age gap duh, employee/boss relationship duh, an excuse to write hotch eating pussy ngl

It all started with a cup of coffee. Or: You've had a crush on your boss for a long time, but you've recently started noticing him going out of his way to do things for you without you asking. Or or: Aaron Hotchner likes to do things for people. And by people, he means you.

read on ao3 or below <3

It all started with a cup of coffee.

You had just walked through the glass doors and into the bullpen, still waking up and desperately needing a cup of coffee, when JJ walks by you with a stack of folders in her arms. She gives you that look and motions towards the conference room.

You sigh and follow her, not even bothering to put your bag down at your desk. “That bad, huh?”

JJ grimaces. “Isn’t it always?”

You choose not to say anything, because she’s right. Lately, the cases have been getting more gruesome, more violent, and you’re wondering if it’s starting to affect you at all.

You pass by Hotch as he’s leaving his office and down the stairs, most likely going to make a coffee. You nod at him, giving him a small smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Hotch says, curt as always. He makes eye contact with you briefly, silently telling you that he is still waking up as well and that he’s not being curt on purpose, before looking away.

Thankfully, it’s been a couple of months since you’ve joined the team, so now you know that Hotch doesn’t actually hate you like you suspected. In fact, he seems to have taken a liking to you based on the number of dry jokes and banter he’s participated in just this week. It definitely doesn’t help the tiny, miniscule crush you have on him.

You don’t know where it came from. Hotch has always been an objectively attractive man, but it’s not often you have a crush on a man who is your boss who is more than 20 years older than you.

Maybe it happened last month, when you were on the jet and he was placing files onto the table to run through theories, and you noticed just how large his hands were. Or maybe, it started when you had knocked before entering his office and he hadn’t noticed you because he was on the phone with who you assumed was Jack based on the excited whispers and soft smile on his face. Or, to your horror, maybe it started when you walked in for your interview, and you felt something stir in the pit of your stomach when he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on the form-fitting pencil skirt you had worn.

A very tiny crush, you think to yourself as you situate yourself in the conference room, throwing your bag underneath the table.

It’s still dark outside, barely 6 in the morning, and the entire floor was quiet while JJ set up the files and photos. You yawn and you’re just about to get up and make your cup of coffee since there was still some time left before everyone showed up, when a mug is placed in front of you.

You stare at it, halfway out of your chair, before the wonderful smell of that bad yet addicting office coffee hits you and you sit down.

You look up to find Hotch sitting down at the head of the table with his own steaming mug. He looks at you, not smiling, but his eyes are soft. “I hope I got it right.”

You look back at your coffee. It’s the perfect color. He even used your designated mug you brought from home, plain and pink, and the image of him carrying it through the office makes you want to giggle.

You don’t giggle, and instead carefully pick it up and bring it to your lips to take a sip. It’s warm and absolutely delicious, sweetened the way you like, which is a lot. How does he know, you blink, a bit shocked that Hotch was able to make your coffee perfectly, more perfectly than you’re able to make sometimes.

So you tell him. “This is better than when I make it. Thank you,” you say sincerely, and chalk up the warmth sparking in your stomach to be from the coffee.

“Don’t mention it,” Hotch says, the corner of his mouth quirking up before turning back to his own mug and taking a sip.

You feel pleased that he thought of you, and then a little anxious because why is he thinking of you? He’s never made you coffee before and you wonder how he knew you like your coffee tasting more like sugar than the actual coffee. You blame it on the fact that he probably saw how tired you looked and knew you needed a little caffeine to start the day.

“Morning ladies,” Derek announces, striding in with too much energy this early in the morning, and making you jump a bit. He laughs at your reaction and then notices the man sitting at the table, looking up at him wordlessly. “And Hotch.”

“Morning,” he says flatly, raising his eyebrows at him.

Derek laughs and chooses to situate himself between you and Hotch. You silently try not to be annoyed by that as you take another gulp from your coffee, and then internally beat yourself up because why would you be annoyed, he’s doing you a favor.

You start reading up on the file that JJ placed in front of you when Morgan asks “Hey, where’s my cup of coffee?”

You glance at him, still holding onto your mug like a lifeline, to find him looking at you almost offended. You shrug. “I didn’t make it.”

Morgan whips his head around to look at Hotch, who acts as if he didn’t hear him. “Where’s my specially made Hotch coffee?”

He doesn’t even look up. “I only have two hands.”

You snort, almost choking, while JJ laughs and Morgan scoffs before he gets up to go downstairs to the break room.

You glance at Hotch to find him smiling to himself, mirth in his eyes, and feel the warmth in your chest again despite how tired you feel.

It’s probably the caffeine.

The next time it happens, it’s after you had gotten shot.

To be fair, you’ve been shot a handful of times already since being on the team, but still. You hate being shot at.

Luckily, this time it was your leg and not your stomach like last time, which absolutely fucking sucked. You had been on bedrest for weeks and was going crazy in your apartment despite Penelope visiting you every day, bringing takeout or a steamy romance novel.

You’re currently in a hospital in Texas, leg in a cast, and starting to get antsy. They told you you’re going to be able to discharge later today, but you’re ready now.

“Relax,” Hotch says where he’s sitting at your bedside, not even looking up. He’s finishing up some reports from the case they just finished, laptop on the bed providing a warm presence against your thigh. You try not to ogle at his hands. How is he even able to work with hands that big?

“I’m just ready to go home,” you say through gritted teeth. “I don’t know why we can’t just leave now, I’m fine.”

“You’re lucky the bullet didn’t hit a nerve,” Hotch says, now looking up at you. There’s a frown on his face and his eyes are tired. The bags underneath his are deeper, darker, and you ignore the pang in your chest when you remember the frantic shouts of him calling for an ambulance after you got shot, the warmth of his hands on your calf to press against the wound.

“I’m fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. “What I’m worried about is what I’m going to do the next case we get.”

If possible, his frown deepens. “You’re not coming with us on the next one.”

Something like irritability rises up your throat. “Yes, I am. I can still work in this stupid cast.”

“Yes, but the doctor said you need rest,” Hotch states, sitting up a little straighter after seeing the look on your face. He knows how stubborn you can get, and this time is no different.

“I can rest on the jet, at the precincts.” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow defiantly at him. “I can still be helpful. I’m not useless.” Like hell you were going to go crazy in your apartment again, living off of frozen pizza and reality TV.

Hotch sighs, and whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by a nurse coming in to check your vitals one more time, your pain level, and then giving you the rundown to be careful, get some rest, blah blah blah.

Somehow Hotch is the one who is tasked with driving you to the airport after you get discharged, the rest of the team already on the jet. You hobble awkwardly through the parking lot with your crutches, and Hotch is right next to you with his hand on the small of your back in case you fall. His hand is warm, nearly setting your whole back on fire, and you shake that thought away as you stumble a bit into the passenger side of his car.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks as he puts your crutches in the backseat. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you with concern, his hands already out to catch you just in case.

You fight a blush and sit down with a grunt. “Yep, I got it.”

The drive to the jet is quiet besides the low hum of the radio. You stare out the window the whole time, just happy to finally feel the warmth of the sun on your face.

“Do you need me to stop for anything?” You turn your head to look at Hotch. He has some stubble forming on his cheeks, hair mussed, and he’s wearing that brown quarter zip-up you like. He has his eyes on the road and turns to look at you, eyebrow cocked. His lips are chapped.

You are struck with the thought of how insanely handsome he is.

You clear your throat. “Nothing I can think of.”

Hotch hums. “Let me know if there’s anything you’re needing.”

You nod silently, and five minutes later, you’re on the tarmac and stumbling up into the jet. Hotch’s hand is at your back again, barely grazing you, and making sure you don’t fall down the stairs. He’s holding onto your crutches despite your protests, and you try not to feel a little indignant.

“There she is,” Morgan singsongs as you plop down into a seat with a sigh. “How’re you feeling?”

“Ready to go home to my bed,” you say, immediately slouching down to get comfortable.

“I feel that,” Emily laughs, nodding, and then she’s patting you on the shoulder before she sits behind you.

Hotch sits across from you, and you try not to think about how this seating chart has become a normal occurrence. He doesn’t seem to mind, however, based on the small smile he gives you.

He’s setting up his laptop and takes out a couple of files from the bag. He then reaches in and places something on the table in front of you. A water bottle and a small bag of trail mix.

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard and not knowing what else to say.

Hotch clears his throat, averting his gaze. “I know you don’t really like hospital food. So.”

You’re suddenly reminded of the coffee incident, where he somehow knew how to make your coffee exactly the way you liked it and continued to do so almost every day since. You can feel Reid staring a hole into the side of your face from where he’s lying on the couch across the aisle.

Your stomach grumbles then, loudly, and you hear Emily laugh behind you. Hotch glances up at you from where he already has a file open. The corners of his mouth just barely quirk up, almost smug. As if he knew that was going to happen.

You wonder when he had the time to get you a snack. It didn’t come from the kitchenette in the jet, having been out of stock of snacks for weeks, and he hadn’t really left your side while you were in the hospital.

“Thanks,” you finally say. You reach forward to open the bag of trail mix. “You didn’t have to.”

Hotch’s eyes soften, his eyebrows relaxed, and there’s concern and something else in his eyes when he says “I wanted to.”

You smile before you can help yourself, ducking your head, and hoping no one else can hear how fast your heart was racing.

You’re hit with the fact that Hotch was thinking of you, planning ahead to get you a snack and make sure you were fed before you guys made it home. You notice the lack of snacks for the rest of the team and try to ignore the thrill that goes through you. It’s like he knows what you want before you know yourself.

Like he’s taking care of you.

You nearly choke on a cashew when the thought occurs to you. Hotch’s head shoots up at the sound, looking alarmed, and it looks like he’s about to get up and hit you on the back when you wave him off. He doesn’t look satisfied until you take a swig from your water bottle and give him a thumbs up. He goes back to tapping away at his laptop, but you can tell he’s still watching you out of the corner of his eye.

It makes sense now that you think about it. He’s made a habit of checking in with you at the end of the day, offering to drive you home if you stay at the office too late. Whenever you check out a location while on a case, he always goes first. He makes sure you’re getting enough sleep, reminding you that you can take time off whenever you want.

You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but ever since The Coffee Incident, you feel another pair of eyes on you more often than usual. Sometimes you would look up and see Hotch staring fixatedly on a particular file or his phone, but you can’t deny the prickling feeling you get on the back of your neck. You’ve noticed your fingertips touching more, sharing looks when the rest of the team argue, knees and feet knocking together underneath tables.

You’ve noticed that not only is Aaron Hotchner, your boss, very handsome but extremely and undeniably hot.

His broad shoulders, his tall stature. His cologne, the way he fills out his suits. His deep voice that’s able to dominate and control an entire room and make you weak in the knees.

“Interesting,” you mumble to yourself. Hotch glances at you with that same concern etched in his face, a question forming on his lips. You smile at him innocently and knock your knees against his underneath the table. It’s easy to find him with the annoying cast on your leg.

He knocks his knees back, gentler than he needs to, and a corner of his mouth just barely lifts.

You are absolutely sure now that Aaron Hotchner has a… thing.

You don’t know what to call the… thing, but there is undoubtedly a thing.

It’s late and you’re the last one in the office. Well, besides Hotch of course, because he practically lives at the office.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Emily asks, JJ on her arm. “I’m sure we can find something for us to do.”

You wave them away. “I’m almost done. Just got at least 2 more reports I need to finish my notes. Promise.”

Emily frowns, but you can see she’s slowly walking backwards to the exit. JJ looks like she’s trying not to tug at Emily’s arm to walk faster. “If you’re sure…”

You roll your eyes. “Go on and have fun with… whatever you guys are going to do. I don’t want to know.”

JJ gives you a wink over her shoulder and you watch as they head into the elevator, a skip in her step. And then they’re gone.

Even though you had just gotten back from the case, it takes you awhile to finish your notes hunching over your desk. It’s quiet in the building, silent besides the faint hum of the air conditioner and your pen scratching at the paper. Your hand cramps a bit and you seriously wonder why this has to be handwritten rather than being in the current century and use a laptop. You’re motivated by the thought of sleeping in tomorrow morning though, which means getting up at 9 instead of your normal 6.

You lean back into your chair, staring at your completed notes. You hear paper rustling from the office upstairs and look up to see Hotch’s door slightly ajar. You suddenly feel nervous being alone with him, as if you haven’ t been alone with him countless of times before. Recently, however, it’s been happening more, and you’re not quite sure how to feel.

You get up from your desk and stretch your back, groaning when you hear a pop. You take a deep breath, imagine your soft bed, gather your reports for the final signature, and head upstairs.

You knock, hear a faint “Come in,” and step inside Hotch’s office, closing the door behind you.

He has his desk lamp on, washing his office and his face with a warm golden glow. He hasn’t even looked up from where he’s writing his own reports, so you take the brief chance to stare.

He’s surrounded by piles of papers; messier than how he usually keeps his desk. His tie is loosened from around his neck and the top two buttons are undone. His sleeves are rolled up and you try not to stare at his thick forearms, the veins in his hands. He grabs a nearby mug to take a sip of coffee, no doubt already cold. Your eyes follow his mouth when he takes a drink, watch the way his tongue flicks out to lick his lips, and then to his face. Where he is watching you with a faint smirk tugging at his aforementioned mouth.

You clear your throat, fighting the blush that’s starting to crawl up your neck. You go to stand in front of his desk, files in hand. “I have the rest of my notes from the Florida case.”

Hotch’s face easily morphs back into his stern and professional look, but you can still see something dance around in his eyes. He takes the files wordlessly, opens one, and reads your notes for not even 5 seconds before he says “You have the names of the sisters mixed up.”

You blink, still trying to fight the nervousness you feel and the warmth pooling slowly at the pit of your stomach as you watch his hands. “Huh?”

Hotch points at the crooked paragraph you scribbled out. “The older sister is named Amanda, the younger sister is Cynthia. You have them mixed up.”

And suddenly the nervousness you felt from being in the same room as your boss, alone and in the middle of the night, is overtaken by sheer embarrassment. You must have been more tired than you thought. “I’m sorry.” You put your hand out for the file. “I can go fix it real quick.”

“It’s fine,” Hotch says, and somehow, you’re not surprised. “I got it.”

You think about the past couple of months and the small gestures he’s been doing for you. Even though you’ve known Hotch for a couple of months now, you can’t quite get a read on him. It’s confusing, he’s confusing. You hate to say that it feels like he’s giving you mixed signals. One second, he’s opening the car door for you when you’re on a case, the next he won’t even look at you when the team is at a bar for an evening. Now this? Offering to fix a mistake you made at work? Something indescribable crawls up your throat and you suddenly feel irritated, upset, and something else.

“No,” you say as professionally as you can despite the rush of blood you can hear in your ears. “I can fix it, Hotch.”

He looks at you then, something like surprise on his face. “It’s just a quick fix, I can do it.”

It’s just a little typo, why won’t he let you fix it, you think to yourself. Maybe it’s the stress from the case you just got back from, how late it was, or something else entirely, but you find yourself unable to stop yourself from saying “Why do you keep doing things for me?”

This time, it’s Hotch who blinks back at you. He puts his pen down and clasps his hands together, looking like he’s ready for a talk. “What do you mean?”

“This!” You wave your hand at him, now not sure exactly what to say. “You keep… doing things for me. Things that I am perfectly capable to do myself, you know.”

Now you realize what that nagging feeling in your throat was— anger. Has Hotch been doing this because of how old you were? Because you were a young and new agent, naïve and innocent and can’t do anything herself?

Hotch just looks at you blankly. You quickly try to read his face; he’s clenching his jaw, his hands where they were clasped are now clenched into almost fists, and his eyes are dark.

“You are perfectly capable,” Hotch says, slowly. “I do know that.”

You huff a bit. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Hotch is silent again before letting out a deep sigh. He closes his eyes, runs his hand over his face, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve just ruined your friendship/professional relationship with your boss. You can almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he figures out what to say.

He smoothly gets up from his desk and is now standing in front of you, leaning against his desk. He’s close, nearly towering over you, and you can almost feel the heat of his body like this.

The close proximity makes you nervous, because this is different than sitting next to each other on the jet or in the car. It’s different because the entire floor of the building is empty and you’re alone in your boss’s office.

He finally opens his eyes, making sure to make eye contact with you. His hands open and then close, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I do these things because I like doing them. For you.”

You stare at him, not sure what to say and feeling overwhelmed at the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling. You feel pleased, shy, giddy, anxious, and overwhelmed.

It makes sense that Hotch likes to take care of people. He’s a leader, a father, and his whole life is about helping those who are in need. You’ve seen it in the way he checks in with everyone, the way he humors Reid with his ramblings or lending an ear to Rossi. You’ve seen it in the way he talks to children and the way he tries to make himself appear softer, almost smaller.

You see it in him now. If it was anyone, Hotch would look stoic or cold, however you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are with the way he’s clearly biting at the inside of his cheek, the tense jaw, and the concerned furrow of his brow.

You’re still not sure what to say, but you know what you want to do.

So, you close the several inches between you and him with one step, grabbing the collar of his pristine button-up, and kiss him.

You’ve clearly taken him by surprise, but he pretends to act otherwise as he gingerly places his hands on your hips and kisses you back.

His lips are soft, addictingly so, and he tastes like coffee when he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip. The feeling makes your knees weak and you think you let out a soft moan, but you’re unable to hear anything over the sound of blood in your ears. His hands, large and hot, roam from your hips and up your back, giving you shivers.

Hotch is the first one to pull away and you instinctively chase after him with your lips before he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure?”

You look up at him, not realizing you had to crane your neck so much to do so and feel that all-too-familiar feeling between your legs that makes you clench your thighs. His lips are already swollen, pretty and pink, the collar of his shirt wrinkled from where you were pawing at him, and his eyes boring into you like he’s going to eat you alive.

“Yes,” you breathe, looping your arms around his shoulders to pull him back in. Hotch goes willingly, almost eagerly.

Hotch kisses like he works—meticulous and focused, however his hands are needy with the way he runs them over your ass, your back again, and your breasts through your sweater. He still seems like he’s being careful, like he’s worried about breaking you. You weave your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull out of pure curiosity, marveling at the way Hotch lets out a groan deep in the back of his throat.

That seems to set him off because now he’s groping you a bit harder, mouth trailing down your neck and peppering kisses in a way that makes you breathless. You can tell he’s refraining from biting and leaving marks, instead making sure to pay extra attention to the spot underneath your ear that makes you gasp and grab at the back of his shirt. “Hotch…”

“Aaron,” he mumbles against your neck before bringing his face back up to yours, noses nearly touching. “Please call me Aaron.”

He’s looking at you like you hung the moon, like he can’t believe you’re in front of him. His face is relaxed, void of any stress, a faint redness on his face, and his hair is so effortlessly messy in a way it makes him look so young and devastatingly handsome.

You nod and move your hands up the nape of his neck again to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble on your palms. “What are you going to do to me, Aaron?”

He groans again and the sound goes straight between your thighs. He suddenly spins you both around until you have your back pressed up against the desk, nearly digging into you. Your breath is knocked out of you, from surprise or desire you don’t know, but then Aaron has his hands at the hem of your sweater. He looks at you, silently asking, and then quickly taking it off when you nod.

His hands immediately gravitate to your breasts, kneading them through the plain black bra you’re wearing. You’re almost embarrassed that it’s so plain, but clearly Aaron doesn’t mind from the way he’s staring at them, thumbs pressing with the lightest pressure against your nipples through the fabric. You feel them tighten, sighing at the soft beginnings of pleasure, and think surely he’s able to feel them even through your bra.

“Fuck,” Aaron curses, and you have never heard him curse and definitely not like this. For some reason, it makes you hotter, and you scramble to bring your hands behind you to unclasp your bra.

And then his mouth is immediately pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, and then onto your right nipple. You gasp and involuntarily arch your back to press closer to him, chasing his warm and wet mouth.

Aaron takes his time with you. He alternates between sucking hard to little kitten licks while his hand is rolling the other nipple between his fingers. You bite your lip in an effort to suppress your moans, trying to keep in mind that both of you are still technically at work. The thought of being caught during sex has never appealed to you, but for some reason, tonight it sends lightning down your spine. You could tell that you were already incredibly wet, probably soaking through your panties, and you spread your legs a bit to relieve some of the pressure. Aaron immediately steps in closer.

You suddenly feel the hot line of his hard cock against your leg through the several layers of clothing and it makes you moan even louder. “Please,” you gasp, nearly clawing at his back.

His mouth lets go of your nipple with an obscene noise and he’s back to pressing kisses against your neck now, soft and slow, as if giving you a second to catch your breath. “What do you want?” He murmurs, voice deep, and going straight to your wet pussy.

And there it is again— Aaron’s need to take of people. To take care of you.

You spread your legs more at the thought, feeling like you can’t breathe.

Aaron hums, stroking his hand along your thigh, and it feels like you’re burning through your slacks. “Is that you want?” The deep timbre of his voice makes you dizzy, especially when he talks to you like that; teasing, like he’s playing with you.

You nod, your words stuck in your throat. You feel the sweat start to gather at your forehead, your chest, and you can feel him staring while you’re trying to catch your breath.

“I want you to say it,” Aaron says before he’s lifting your hips up so you’re sitting at the edge of his desk. He then tucks his fingers in the waistband of your pants but makes no move to tug them down.

You glance helplessly at the door, thanking past you and the thought to close the door. You know there is a low chance of being heard since it’s almost midnight on a Friday, but again, the thought of being caught with your pants around your ankles and your bra off sends a shiver through you.

“Look at me.” And there’s a hand on your chin, pulling your attention back to the older man in front of you.

He looks absolutely wrecked despite all of his clothes being on. You didn’t notice his tie was gone, thrown somewhere in the office. Aaron is looking at you intently, eyes dark from how dilated his pupils were, and you can tell he’s just as affected by the way his chest is heaving up and down underneath his button-up.

“Tell me what you want,” Aaron whispers, his free hand running up and down your thighs. “And I’ll give it to you.”

Your throat clicks when you swallow, licking your lips, and you watch as Aaron’s eyes follow the movement. “Please eat me out,” you say breathlessly, and it almost feels stupid to say until Aaron is surging into you to press his hungry mouth against yours.

“That’s a good girl,” Aaron mumbles against your mouth and you want to melt into a puddle.

He finally pulls down your pants, helping you lift your hips up to take them off. He’s helping you take off your shoes and then suddenly, he’s kneeling on the floor in between your thighs.

You almost want to close them, suddenly feeling shy, until he has his hands on your knees to keep them apart. You can’t see his expressions from this angle, but you squirm when you feel his eyes and warm breath on your core, probably having soaked your panties right through. You wouldn’t be surprised if you soaked through your pants.

He lets go of your knee to trace your slit through your panties and you jump a bit in surprise, moaning nonetheless and grinding your hips up into his touch. You’re sensitive and have been teased for who knows how long, and secretly you’ve always liked getting dirty with some clothes being on. Blame Aaron and his penchant for suits.

And then he’s leaning in and pressing his hot hot mouth against your cunt through your panties.

You gasp, loudly, and your hands fly to the top of his head. That’s all the permission Aaron needs, it seems, as he begins by swiping his flat tongue up you before dissolving into slow languid licks. He’s not exactly touching you where you need him most, but it’s enough for now. He’s messy and you’re starting to wonder if a mix of his spit and your wetness is dripping onto his desk, onto the floor, and the thought makes your thighs shake. You know he’s doing this on purpose to make your panties wetter, and it’s so hot in a way you didn’t know was possible.

You feel him hum against you and you squirm against his hands, mewling when you feel them tighten on your thighs. You secretly hope he leaves bruises.

“Please,” you whisper. As much as you love the thought of him so desperate to get a taste of you, him willing to take what he can get through the fabric, you need more. “Aaron, please…”

He groans, something masculine and guttural, and then he’s moving your panties aside from your wet pussy and delving back in again.

His mouth feels infinitely better like this, and you can feel his tongue swiping into your opening, gathering the wetness and completely avoiding your clit. You whine, grasping at his hair a little harder, and wonder if that’s his smile you can feel against your pussy. You grind against his face, almost involuntarily, and he lets you, even enjoying it based on how he moans and moves his tongue faster, exploring.

He finally moves his tongue to your clit and your eyes nearly roll back at the pleasure wracking your body. You gasp and tighten your hold on his hair. It feels so so good, and again the thought of Aaron being so hungry for you he’s willing to do this in the office, his office. Stern and cold, highly esteemed SSA Aaron Hotchner. Your boss.

“Fuck, Aaron,” you whimper and look down at him on his knees between your thighs. His eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as if he’s just at his desk filling out paperwork or working on a case. Instead, he’s focused on eating you out so intensely, on making you feel so good, he’s so hot.

He opens his eyes at that, as if he could feel you watching him, and they’re a warm golden brown, pupils blown. His hands on your thighs tighten and he shifts from where’s kneeling on the floor. You could see he’s genuinely enjoying making you come apart with his pretty mouth as he flicks your clit ever so gently. You distantly wonder if he’s hard and leaving a stain through his own dress pants.

He gives a soft suck on your clit and your hips stutter, your breath catching in your chest as you feel that familiar pressure start building at the pit of your stomach. And it’s like he can immediately tell, because of course he can, and you suddenly feel one of his thick and long fingers enter you.

“Oh,” you gasp in surprise, eyes rolling back at the primal feeling of being filled. You wish it was his cock, God do you wish, but this is enough for now.

Aaron is still looking up at you and you can tell he’s about to move away to ask if this was okay, if you’re okay, but before he can, you put your leg on top of his shoulder and pull him in. You hope that that answers his question.

And because Aaron is Aaron and can somehow read your mind, he almost imperceptibly nods and puts his mouth on your clit again. His finger starts slow, despite how wet and open you are, as if he’s still teasing you. It’s almost enough for you; the steady sucking of your clit and something thick in your pussy, if he would only move a little faster.

“Harder, please, please,” you beg, unable to stop yourself, nearly babbling. It would be embarrassing if Aaron clearly didn’t like it based on the way he pushes his finger in deeper and harder, his sucking moving into hard licks to your clit.

It was good, so so good, and so intense that you wish you could swipe all of his files and folders off the desk and lay on your back to savor it. Instead, Aaron moves his tongue faster and that tidal wave is getting stronger. You instinctively push at Aaron’s head so you could catch your breath for at least a second because you don’t want this to be over just yet.

Aaron grunts and moves his free hand to your hip, grabbing you hard to keep you in your place. He inserts another finger, and it’s almost too much but it’s also just the right amount of fullness you want at the same time. He’s pumping them in and out of your wet pussy so fast, the lewd noises filling the office, maybe even carrying downstairs.

And then he’s curling his fingers just so, flicking your clit just so, and looking at you with eyes so dark and intense that you finally, finally come.

The shout of his name dies in your throat as you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, and feeling that blissful white-hot pleasure all over. Your pussy clenches around Aaron’s fingers as he keeps his fingers curled inside you. You can feel your hips stuttering, unable to make your mind up on whether to chase the feeling with his mouth or away, but Aaron makes that decision for you as his hand grips impossibly tighter and laps at your clit gently to help you ride out your orgasm.

You’re trying to catch your breath when you feel Aaron give a whisper of a kiss on your cunt, making you jump. He chuckles quietly and you blearily open your eyes to see him slowly standing up, hearing him groan when his knees pop. You don’t even have the mental capacity to make fun of him for it, especially when you see the look on his face as he steps closer between your shaking legs.

His hair is absolutely ruined thanks to your fingers and his eyes are soft with a touch of concern. There’s a near triumphant smug grin on his face, sweet dimples poking out, and the bottom half of his face is unquestionably glistening. He flicks a tongue out to lick his lips and you want him so bad.

You glance down and feel a shiver of pride and hunger when you see the line of his hard cock through his slacks, a wet spot barely visible.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nearly swoon at how low and deep his voice sounds. He uses his clean hand to swipe a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face and tuck it behind your ear. You can’t even imagine what a mess you look right now, face probably flushed and naked on his desk.

You nod, swallowing the dryness in your throat. His smile gets wider at that, if possible.

He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss and hums when you part your lips to taste yourself. The hand that’s migrated to cradle the back of your head trails down to the nape of your neck, gripping you in a way that was almost possessive. It’s hypnotizing and you feel breathless again at the thought of his hand around your throat.

You feel his cock pressing against your inner thigh, so close to where you need him the most, and you reach to fiddle with his loosened tie before trailing it down his chest. You can feel his muscles flexing, his stomach tensing, before passing his belt and pressing your palm against him. “Can I…?”

He groans against your mouth before pulling away, leaning his forehead against yours. You can imagine the veins in his throat popping as he tries not to cant his hips against you.

You’re marveling at the size of him as you run your hand up and down his length. You had a feeling he was going to be big but not this big. Your mouth waters at the thought of him between your lips, hot and heavy, or pulsating in your pussy as he comes inside of you, filling you up. You can imagine his biceps tensing, the veins in his forearms showing, and the way his eyes would close as he chased his own orgasm.

So, you’re shocked and maybe a little offended when you feel Aaron’s fingers circling your wrist to pull your hand away.

“It’s okay,” he whispers against your lips before you could say anything.

“But I want to—”

“Not here,” he says, now rubbing your wrist like an afterthought. “I wanted to take care of you first.”

You huff a laugh, starting to understand now. Something warm unfurls in your chest at that. Aaron Hotchner had always seemed like the type to want to make the woman come first, maybe even multiple times before his own release.

He steps away, adjusting himself in his pants and fixing the collar of his shirt. Your eyes follow the motions, fixated on his hands, and for some reason you’re feeling hot again.

You must have made a noise because Aaron’s head whips up at you, that smug grin that he’s not even trying to hide anymore getting wider. He leans down to pick up your pants and helps you wriggle your panties back up your legs and to your hips. His hands linger on your inner thighs as if he can’t help himself and you notice his breath getting deeper, his mouth parted.

You’re just about to slide them off again, maybe even using your arm to finally slide all the papers on his desk off when he steps away again.

“My place?” He asks lowly. His gaze lingers on your thighs, your chest, and then back up to your face. The desire and want is plain as day on his face.

As if on cue, you hear the familiar sound of a custodial cart next door in Rossi’s office. Your heart leaps in your throat and you push off the desk to scramble and put your pants and sweater back on.

Aaron laughs at that, quietly again, as if they don’t work here and they’re about to get caught doing something they’re not supposed to be doing. Which, you guess, is somewhat true.

But then Aaron is on his knees again, your shoe in one hand and his fingers circling your ankle to lift up with the other as he looks up at you. His eyes are so sincere, sweet, as if he just didn’t give you the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life here in his office.

You smile at him, feeling the fondness grow impossibly larger in your chest, and let him help you put your shoes back.

You can return the favor in his bed.

#god forgive me please im so sorry #i havent written anything in forever and then i write this in a week lol like aight...#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner smut #my fic

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aushadhiauryog1 · 2 years ago

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#yoni steaming near me #yoni steaming in india #yoni steaming herbs #yoni steam benefits #vaginal steaming reviews #yoni steam for fertility success stories #before and after yoni steam results #yoni steam side effects

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rainrot4me · 2 months ago

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TW: Blowjob, soft sex, fluff, vaginal

𐚁₊⊹

Regardless of your request for him to use the front door, Toby will always prefer the window to your bedroom.

He has a key, he knows the code to your garage door opener, and he even knows the key box disguised as a semi-realistic rock nestled under the bushes. Yet, he will always push open the screen and climb his way in.

And on particularly difficult nights like tonight, Toby is more than ready to pile his way into your soft bed and your warm arms.

He brushes the strands of hair from your face, leaning close to kiss your forehead as you stir. Heavy-eyed and groggy, you smile, reaching to wrap your arms around the neck of your love.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You feel the rainfall from outside soaked into his jacket, the dense smell of outside tangled into his messy hair. He looks pitiful and tried, but you know he feels even worse.

Throwing the covers off, you trek to the bathroom, switching the dim light on and turning the shower faucet on to a nice warm temperature. Toby perches on the edge of your bed, exhaustion evident on his freckled face. You grab his hand, leading him to the comforting heat of the shower.

Steam rolls from behind the curtain as you pull it back, your hands gentle to slowly strip the boy of his dirty clothes. He doesn’t fight, just blinks away his sleepiness as you guide him in. Undressing yourself, you follow.

“Bad day?”

The hot water rolls off your skin, Toby leaning into your every touch as you gently wash the blood and grime from his face. He nods, blinking his eyes shut as you move his head under the rolling water.

“Why is he putting so much work on you? You deserve to rest.”

You’re upset for him, more than fed up with the countless times your boyfriend has shown up within an inch of collapsing.

“It’s fine. Re- Really, it is.”

You’re still frustrated, but deem this a discussion for later. Right now is about him.

Lathering the shampoo into his tangled hair, you scrub his scalp and smile when he leans into the feeling. He’s groaning, tilting his head back so you can massage it in deeper before moving him to wash it out.

Toby is already feeling better just from you taking care of him. He doesn’t like to look weak, but sometimes he just can’t help but come crawling home to you.

You gently run a soapy rag across his chest, cleansing the dirt and blood that runs down the drain. He lets his hands rest on your hips, thumb gently rubbing back and forth across your skin as you clean him, taking such good care of him.

Leaning back, the soap from his skin begins to wash off. You caress his face, trailing your hands across his skin as he smiles at you. You let your hand dip further, sliding across his abdomen to his half-hard length. His breath hitches, fingers tensing against your hips.

“What’re yo- you doin’?”

You push him back softly, his shoulders meeting the cool side of the shower as you slowly dip down. Toby watches, tired eyes wide as you slowly stroke his growing cock.

He leans into the wall, body slowly relaxing as the water continues to fill the shower with steam and comforting heat. You take him gently, guiding the head into your even-warmer mouth and easily beginning to bob up and down.

Toby’s gasping, fingers clinging against the tiles and watching intently at your every move. You brace your hands on his thighs, letting your mouth work him over as your tongue slides along the underside. You reach out, gripping his hands to come to the side of your head, a silent permission to let him take control.

He’s whining, tired groans and gasps slipping through his lips as he tangles his fingers into your wet hair and slowly begins to guide your head further down.

He’s not going rough or desperately, but so lovingly and thankful. The brunette can’t believe how you could be so effortlessly perfect for him, but here you are. It’s all he can do not to spill over already.

You relax into his touch, jaw hanging as loose as you can get it to accommodate the length gliding itself deeper into the warmth and wetness of your mouth. His fingers tense against your head, a silent plea as you flutter your eyes up to him, nodding your permission.

He’s sliding you off his cock and helping you to stand, your back quickly being turned to him as you’re pressed into the tile wall. You try to grip anything, the slippery porcelain offering no help as Toby angles his cock between your thighs, pressing up to your entrance.

You groan, arching your ass against him as he slowly pushes in, the stretch of that tight ring of muscle making you gasp.

“Toby…”

His arms wrap around your middle, forehead dropping onto your shoulder as his hips begin to move. You’re reeling, eyes fluttering shut as the stretch and fullness of him guides you flush against the tile. Your walls grip him, thighs straining to hold open as he bottoms out again and again.

“Love…”

Your cunt aches as his pace branches from gentle to eager. His hips roll up into yours, fingers digging at your sides as he fucks up into you with desire.

You’re so good to him, so loving he can’t stand it. He just wants to show his thanks.

You’re scraping at the tile, your cheeks pressed into the cold wall with gasps and moans. Toby’s fingers slides down your abdomen, pushing past your folds to rub against your swelling clit. You lean into the touch, rolling steadily as he continues his pace, making sure to push his cock as deep into your warmth as possible.

You’re so tight, so perfectly molded for him as his cock nudges your g-spot. You’re gasping, his fingers driving you over the edge and slamming your climax into you. Toby’s there too, pumping his cock into the gumminess of your cunt until he feels like he’s melting.

Tugging himself in his fist, you kiss his skin, whispering encouragements until he’s cumming into his hand.

Washing yourself and him off one more time, you shut the water off, patting the dampness from your skin before tugging Toby back towards your bedroom.

At this point, you’re both exhausted, hands wrapped together as you pick out pajamas for both you and him.

Bathed and warm, you slide back into your bed, holding the sheet up so Toby can climb his way in too. He’s sighing as you wrap your legs around him, your bodies tangling together as you find a comfortable balance.

“I love you.”

Toby nudges his nose into the crook of your neck, the sweet smell of your shampoo making him smile. You’re holding him close, rubbing small circles across his shoulders as you feel his weight slowly relax into exhaustion.

“I love you, too.”

You’re both asleep in seconds, bodies held close and warmth spreading. The rain still patters outside, the late hours and missions of the night long forgotten when you’re both so lost in each other’s touch.

Even despite how much love you show him, he’ll still refuse to use the front door next time.

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sailorrhansol · 2 months ago

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Storm Breaker | (l.jh)

❀ Pairing: Jaeger Pilot!Lee Jihoon x Jaeger Pilot! f.reader

❀ Summary: It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise.

❀ Word Count: 23,373

❀ Genre: Pacific Rim AU, Forced Proximity, Annoyed to Lovers

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Jihoon is a bit of an asshole, action/fighting scenes, brief descriptions of blood, mentions of offscreen deaths, brief mentions of sick parents, brief mention of having no family, sexual tension, explicit language, A Lot of Pacific Rim Techincal Terms But They’re Explained, terrible humor, a hint of angst, brief depictions of Jihoon being insecure about his childhood, sexually explicit content including nipple play, biting, a total of one (1) spank, oral (f. receiving), the slightest hint of voyeurism mentioned, unprotected sex (don’t do this), multiple orgasms, a lot of spit and cum, cum eating, vaginal fingering, a lot of biting, Jihoon is emotionally constipated and then lets it all out lmfaoooo

❀ A/N: HERE SHE IS. This story takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but you definitely do not have to watch the movie to enjoy it - I’m pretty sure I explain everything in terms of how it works but if something is confusing, please tell me and I will adjust! I hope you enjoy this Jihoon who has been the apple of my eye for like almost three months now. STAY TUNED FOR MY SECOND FIC IN THIS UNIVERSE SHARING CHAN AND WYLIE'S STORY :)

❀ A/N 2: SPECIAL THANKS TO @daechwitatamic for not only collaborating with me on our little corner of the internet, but beta reading this giant piece and constantly motivating me while writing it. I could not be anywhere without you I love u

❀ Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀

Jihoon doesn’t flinch when Xander throws his helmet against the wall. The crash is loud, but the reinforced material doesn’t crack under the force of the concrete. It clatters to the floor while Jihoon tucks his helmet under his right arm. Sweat drips down the side of his neck and down his back, but he can’t get to it while in his Drivesuit.

Just add it to his list of inconveniences.

Everyone in the room freezes as Xander storms toward the command center and right for the Marshall in charge, his steps thunderous against the metal floor. Instead of following him, Jihoon leans against the doorframe, watching the way his co-pilot rages, imagining steam coming out of his ears.

“I can’t fucking pilot with him,” Xander screams, stabbing an accusatory finger in Jihoon’s direction. “I refuse to do it. Reassign me.”

Eyes drift toward Jihoon. He ignores them, watching as Xander stops at the command post where both the Marshall and the LOCCENT Mission Controller who just walked them through their kaiju fight stand. Both of them stare at Xander, who is red in the face, chest heaving.

It’s a bit of an overreaction, especially for a team who just dispatched a Category Four kaiju. But it doesn’t matter. Xander isn’t Jihoon’s first co-pilot and he won’t be his last. They rarely last long, a cycle of Rangers who cannot stand to work with him for more than a few fights. Jihoon examines the scratches on his suit, thinking that he needs to get it buffed while the Marshall deliberates how to answer Xander’s demands.

“Ranger-”

Xander cuts off the Marshall. Bold, if you ask Jihoon. “I’ll leave the fucking program if that’s what I have to do. I won’t pilot with him anymore, I don’t care that we can drift. He won’t trust me, he won’t give up the reins and he refuses to let me in. He’s arrogant and pig headed!”

“Pig headed,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “That’s new.”

The Marshall sighs heavily, eyes drifting toward Jihoon, who is still leaning against the doorframe. He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug, unsure what the Marshall expected. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Marshall asks Xander to follow him, gesturing toward the door at the back of the command center that leads into offices.

Silence blankets the room at their departure. At least, as silent as it can get in the jaeger hub. The beeping of machinery and radar is a constant sound under the hum of machinery and the awkward cough of one of the workers in the room. Jihoon raises his brows as if to ask someone to say something. No one does and he nods, dismissing himself.

Laughter trails up the stairs followed by loud steps. He looks down to see Chan and Wylie coming up the stairwell, cheeks flushed and hairlines sweaty from their battle with Dreadfury only minutes earlier. Their team had the assist on the kill, and though they hadn’t landed the final blow, their constant offense had given Jihoon and his partner the time they needed to figure out how to move in.

Chan sees Jihoon and raises a questioning brow, pausing in the stairs. “Lose your co-pilot?” he asks, looking Jihoon up and down.

“How’d you guess?”

“Standard,” Chan and Wylie say at the same time.

They do that a lot, so in sync that despite the fact that they’re two different people, sometimes Jihoon feels like he’s talking to one. Wylie is a little shorter than Chan, but just as furious in personality and attitude. She leans against Chan, cocking her head to the side. It’s not a conscious movement but an instinct, her body naturally attaching to her co-pilot’s. Jihoon knows that level of closeness well.

“Think they’ll just finally get rid of you?”

“Nope.”

“Standard,” they both say in unison again. It’s Chan who says, “Must be nice to get away with murder, Woozi.” He continues up the stairs, clapping Jihoon on the shoulder as he goes. Wylie trails behind him, shooting Jihoon a grin. “One day you’re gonna end up on your ass.”

“That’s fine. You’ll both take me in, right?”

Both of their voices meld as they howl in laughter, passing him and going into the command center, yelling “Nope!”

Despite their teasing, Jihoon smiles. He’s known the pair for years and despite their ability to get under his skin, he’s fond of them. They’re good jaeger pilots, scrappy as they come and vicious in the field. Unlike Jihoon, they’ve piloted their jaeger together from the start, syncing like twin flames and sticking to one another.

It helps that they grew up together, of course. And that they’re in a relationship, one heart, one soul.

Sighing, Jihoon jogs down the rest of the stairs, tired and sore. He needs a shower, food and a fucking nap. He and Xander had been pulling extra shifts, the kaiju activity having increased with the bad weather. He suspects it was also in an attempt to get Jihoon to bond with Xander more and get him to open up, but that hadn’t happened.

That’s the problem with piloting with Jihoon. The more time people spend with him, the less they can stomach the way he resists them in the mental bridge that connects co-pilots. It isn’t that he’s afraid for them to see what’s in his head - they haven’t earned a right to his privacy.

Privacy is important to him.

Murmurs ripple through the cafeteria as he enters, rolling his head to the side to try and workout the kink that is formed there. He glances around and fights the urge to roll his eyes. Word spreads fast when you’re secluded in the Shatterdome with nothing but fucking ocean and giant monsters around you.

As usual, he ignores the stares and whispering. He catches Soonyoung’s eye from afar and shrugs when his friend gives him a questioning glance, earning an eye roll. Not for the first time, Jihoon finds himself wondering why someone like Soonyoung or Wonwoo can’t be his partner.

Drift compatibility.

He knows that’s the answer, but he’ll never stop wishing that pairing jaeger pilots together was a little easier. So many factors go into making people drift compatible and yet he’s yet to find a partner he can tolerate - or tolerate him in return. If it were as easy as picking his friends, he’d have settled with someone long ago.

Brushing away the thought, he heads to his room. It doesn’t matter what he wants. If wishes were horses, everyone would be a rider. He’s pretty sure that one of his former co-pilots had said that - in regard to Jihoon being impossible to work with, of course.

The dark and quiet of his room brings the peace Jihoon craves. He feels the tension melt from his shoulders. He suddenly realizes how tired he is, feeling like parchment stretched too thin over a rough surface. He peels himself out of his clothes methodically, welcoming the chill of the room against his sweaty skin.

He trails to the shower, tossing his clothes in the hamper as he does. Leaving the lights on so it’s only the dull orange glow over his bed, he turns on the shower as hot as it will go. It takes a second, but soon steam is filling the room, choking him as he slides under the stream of water, sighing as the heat of it burns away any lingering frustration for the day.

Tomorrow, he’ll have a new partner. It’s a simple fact and a routine he is familiar with. That’s fine with him - they can keep assigning people to him until they find someone competent. Jihoon isn’t going anywhere.

He has nowhere else to go anyway.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Kira says before you can finish stepping out of the jaeger. The Marshall of the Sydney Shatterdome looks deadly serious. You scoff under the helmet, reaching up to unclasp it and shuck it off. Fresh air fills your lungs. It’s hot and tastes like metal in the jaeger bay, but it’s familiar. “And I need an answer quickly.”

“Ever heard of foreplay?” you grunt, helping Maya out of the giant mech behind you. She shoots you a thankful grin, taking off her helmet. Her face is flushed pink, hairline sweaty. “You really just dive in dry, huh?”

“You know my cousin is a Marshall of a Shatterdome overseas?”

You pause. “Yeah.”

“They’re asking for a skilled pilot to pair with one of their Rangers. They sent over the drift profile and you’re the only pilot we have that’s a match.” You frown and she holds out a hand to stop your protest, a crease in her mouth. “Just look over the report and the profile I sent you, alright?”

“I mean, my answer is no. I’m fine here.”

“You are. You’re one of our best teams,” Kira says earnestly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Maya. “But respectfully, your value is needed elsewhere. There isn’t enough activity here to keep a veteran of your status on shift, Blue.”

You feel a flicker of uncertainty. Rarely does Kira use your nickname. It’s too familiar for a military commander of her status, and though you’ve considered her a friend for years, she never uses your nickname on shift. Unless she really needs something from you.

Licking your lips, you hesitate to answer. You don’t want to say she’s right about your skillset and risk insulting your coworkers and other pilots in the jaeger Program, but it’s an accurate statement. The Shatterdome you report to is old - one of the first built in the beginning. But kaiju activity is mostly unpredictable, shifting with the tides. You barely get them once a month anymore, and there are too many pilots who need the practice.

You don’t.

You glance at Maya and she offers a soft smile. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d be my co-pilot forever. Hoped, maybe. But I didn't expect it.”

“Oh come on, I’m with you for life, Maya.”

“Romantic.” Maya’s gaze softens. “Marshall has a point, though. We’re a little… slow here.”

It makes a pang go through your heart. Maya has been your co-pilot since your mother passed away, and though you didn’t go through the Ranger training program with her, she’s the perfect balance to you. You like having her around, and the thought of changing pilots just because someone wants your experience is… unideal.

Sensing your unease, Maya reaches out and touches your forearm, squeezing over the metal of your Drivesuit. Her smile is soft. Knowing. Like she knew that being in the drift with you wasn’t forever, and she’s already saying bye.

“Look,” Kira sighs, bringing your attention back to her. “My cousin really needs a skilled pilot and someone who is a leader and isn’t afraid of working with veteran pilots. They get more activity, and they need someone sharp. Skilled. Strong.”

“I mean, I’ll look over the papers.”

“Thank you.” She steps away. “I need to know by the end of the day, though.”

“Jesus Christ, Marshall. End of the day is in like two hours.”

Her smile is firm. “I know.”

Waving her off, you leave your jaeger behind, Maya trailing after you. She peppers you with encouragement as you walk, steps heavy on the metal catwalk. You don’t respond right away, thoughts trying to catch up with being thrown an offer immediately after slamming a monster back into the depth of the ocean just minutes ago.

You don’t have to ask why you. Drift compatibility alone is important enough to move jaeger pilots around the world from Shatterdome to Shatterdome in order to make the best pairs possible. There aren’t a ton of pilots - especially among the younger ones - at your base that are compatible with you.

Stubborn, Kira had always said. Finding an equally dominant co-pilot that meshes with you is difficult. You suspect that if you were not extremely talented at what you do and a veteran at your base, they might have moved you to an advisory position a long time ago.

Advising is not for you, though. The grind of metal and the heat of the fight is where you thrive, letting your mind go empty, entirely driven by instinct. Instinct was the reason you were so good at fighting kaiju. Your mom had always said you had the instinct of a warrior, and after putting down as many monsters to protect humanity’s coasts, you had to agree.

Maya immediately goes to the shower once you reach your shared room. You dive onto the bottom bunk, snatching the tablet sitting on your night stand. Your eyes squint from the brightness, sensitive in the dim room. Clicking through your emails, you find the reporting and profile from Kira and open it, information unfurling before you.

“Huh,” You muse, raising your brows as Lee Jihoon appears on your screen. “I know your name.”

His profile is impeccable - and so is his skill. Chewing on your lip, you throw yourself onto your cot and flip through all of the materials provided on your potential co-pilot. Veteran Ranger. Highly skilled in combat. Top of his class in the academy.

Clicking on the attachments, you watch the attached videos. There’s clips from his fights in and out of the suit. You find yourself hypnotized by his fighting style. There is a beauty to it, but it’s absolutely lethal. Efficient. There are no extra flourishes, no showmanship. Lee Jihoon fights to kill.

“So why do you need me?” you mutter to yourself, pulling up his past partners. The list is extensive, stretching back to multiple co-pilots over weeks at a time. “Jesus christ. You do not play nice.”

He must not, at least. Half of the pilots assigned to him are only barely compatible. You know it takes more than just matching fight styles, but based on the history glowing at you from the screen, Jihoon’s Marshall was doing anything they could to keep him, even if it meant pairing him with someone who was scoring as low as 54% compatible.

Pulling up your side-by-side analysis, you whistle. 98% was a good fucking number. You’d only ever had 90% with your mom, and she was genetically linked to you. Still, with as many partners as Jihoon has had in the past year alone, you don’t know that it’s worth it, even if his base has more kaiju activity and looks to be in need of veteran fighters.

Sighing, you close the tablet and throw it on the pillow. Resting your head against the metal wall, you close your eyes, thinking. You’re happy where you’re at. You’re a leader here, and you like Maya as your partner. She’s young and eager to learn - and you like your jaeger. Shadow Stalker is a good suit, though a little older.

Biting your lip, you grab the tablet again, opening the jaeger details on Jihoon’s profile. Newer model. Built for endurance. Equipped with multiple blades, suited for pilots who prefer sword-style fighting. She’s painted gray-blue like the deepest part of a storm - blue like your mother’s first jaeger, which makes you grin.

Storm Breaker. It’s a good name for a jaeger and it matches the profile. She’s built to withstand the brutal waves of the deep ocean and the onslaught of a high-category kaiju. Your interest is piqued, curious about Storm Breaker and her brutal pilot.

Closing the tablet again, you stare into the distance, thinking. “What’s your deal, Lee Jihoon?”

Jihoon hates sparring with Chan almost as much as he hates sparring with Wylie. Chan doesn’t scratch at Jihoon like a feral cat like Wylie might, but he does bite, which is exactly what he does when he can’t get out of Jihoon’s hold.

“You fucker,” Jihoon hisses, letting him go. Chan slips out of Jihoon’s grasp and rolls to his feet a few feet away, crouched low and ready to go again. Despite years of being a jaeger pilot, Chan nor his co-pilot have fallen out of their scrapy upbringings, fighting like two street orphans. “What, are you going to bite a kaiju if you can?”

“Of course not. I just don’t like losing to you.”

“Too bad.” Jihoon straightens and lifts his fists, planting his feet firmly. Sweat slicks the back of his neck, wispy pieces of hair escaping his hair tie and sticking to damp skin. “No more biting.”

“No promises.”

Somewhere behind him, Jihoon hears Minghao shriek. “She bit me!”

Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite.

Chan comes at Jihoon again. He’s a good fighter and he’s ruthless. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite things about him. But there’s always an opening, always a moment between fluid movements that reveals itself that Jihoon can take advantage of.

He does exactly that, going on the defense, watching and waiting for the moment. When it reveals itself, Jihoon strikes lightning fast, catching Chan in the chest hard and taking him down to the ground. Jihoon feels the wind leave Chan’s lungs as he coughs hard, head smacking the mat.

Behind them, Jihoon hears the collective wince. Chan is dazed for a second, groaning underneath Jihoon’s hand pressed to his chest. He can feel the hammering of Chan’s heart, a little faster than his own. When it’s clear Chan isn’t going to claw at him, Jihoon stands and offers him a hand.

With a heaving sigh, Chan takes it. Jihoon claps him on the back, grinning as Chan tries to catch his breath, rubbing the back of his head. “That hurt.”

“Oops.” Chan looks over Jihoon’s shoulder and grins, causing him to turn around and follow the younger’s gaze. Wylie sweeps her feet under Mingho’s, knocking him to the mat. She pounces like a creature from hell before he can react, pinning him down. “Well, at least one of us didn’t get our ass beat today.”

“Stop biting, Dino,” Jihoon says as they trail off the mat, a warning. Chan has the decency to look chagrined, bowing slightly to his superior. Jihoon adores the kid, but he will not serve as a chew toy.

Grabbing a water, Jihoon sits down on the floor with Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Seokmin as Junhui and Minghao trade places. Minghao is nursing a scratch on his neck from Wylie’s nails, muttering about her being a demon straight from hell as he sits. Wylie gives her new opponent a wicked grin, taking her place on the mat and beckoning Junhui toward her. Jihoon shakes his head, gulping down water and leaning back on his hands.

“Fresh blood,” Soonyoung notes, gesturing toward the training room entrance as the Marshall leads a group of people in. “They’re holding trials for the two new mark fives tomorrow. Wanna go?”

“No.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Come on, they might be looking for another partner for you too.”

“Don’t care.”

“You can’t keep going through partners, man.”

Jihoon doesn’t react, eyes scanning the group of cadets. They all look fresh-faced and in awe as they’re led around the mats, wide eyes glued to the sparring pilots as they go. His eyes settle on you, though, pausing.

You don’t have the same awestruck wonder as the other cadets, trailing behind them as your eyes scan the structure, the fighters and the equipment around you. Calculating. Critical. You’re a little older than the other cadets too - not in looks but in aura, chin lifted, gaze sharp. Experienced.

Soonyoung follows Jihoon’s line of sight and straightens. “Woah. Who is that?”

“My new drift partner,” Seokmin sighs dreamily. Soonyoung and Seungkwan smack him at the same time, offended. They’re one of the few triple pilot groups, operating a massive piece of machinery made for slaughtering and hammering down on high-grade kaiju. “What? Look at her!”

“You shouldn’t fuck your co-pilot,” Seungkwan mutters. “Look what happened to Seungcheol and Cherry. She’s still at that training facility in Alaska. Didn’t come back after their drift glitched.”

A collective hum goes through them. All of them recall that situation, but no one says a thing. The weight of Cherry’s absence sits heavy on them - even Jihoon misses her a little.

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung notes cryptically, eyeing Wylie. She’s managed to get Junhui off his feet, slamming him down with a rattle of mat and springs, pinning him with a savage growl. Wylie Coyote indeed, Jihoon thinks, smirking. “Seems to work for Wylie just fine. God, look at Chan, he literally has heart eyes. Disgusting.”

It’s true. The pilot in question sits at the edge of the mat, elbows resting on top of his knees as he watches his girlfriend with his mouth open, lips upturned a little. His eyes are dazed, focused on Wylie as she holds onto a thrashing Junhui. There’s so much love in his gaze that Jihoon averts his eyes, worried he’s observing something sacred and private.

“Not everyone is like them,” Seungkwan shoots back. “They share a brain cell.”

“We’re literally drift partners. We basically do the same thing.”

“And yet I don’t want to fuck you, Hoshi.”

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side. “You know, that brings up a valid question-”

“No,” the other three say at the same time, cutting him off before he can get going.

Still, Seungkwan’s point is valid. The drift is something that is so intimate that it isn’t uncommon for copilots to have a romance or some sort of tension. The neural handshake makes you become one, unable to hide anything. It is inviting someone else into your head to see everything you see, everything you have seen. Memories, feelings, thoughts - nothing is yours anymore.

Jihoon hides it all from his co-pilots. He knows he’s not supposed to - openness and being honest and true with your partner makes for a better drift. But the intimacy of the connection makes him uncomfortable, and he’s not ready for anyone to see him - really see him.

So he hides in the drift. Knows how to bring nothing to it, to give only the parts of himself he has to in order for his partner to fight alongside him. Jihoon gives nothing more. And they don’t need it, frankly.

The Marshall leads the new recruits back out of the room. He watches you go, wondering what your deal is. As though you sense his eyes on you, your eyes flicker over to his, catching his gaze. He’s unsure why, but he pauses, the room stilling for a split second. Then you’re grinning wickedly, vanishing from the room.

He brushes it off and turns his eyes back to his friends.

Lee Jihoon is prettier in person. You don’t know why it’s the first thing you notice as you watch him walk across the training center. He’s dressed in fitted cargo pants and a racing jacket over a t-shirt, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair is bleached and pinned into a low bun, some of his bangs hanging in his dark eyes. He doesn't notice you watching him as he nears an empty mat, shedding the jacket.

He’s compact. Small, but toned, muscles rippling as he begins to go through a series of stretches. You know he’s a good fighter from your observations the day before. Everything about him screams efficiency. You can’t put your thumb on it, but the way he carries himself is methodical.

Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper.

It’s the partners that he has a problem with. He’s had eight co-pilots in the last year alone, which is more than anyone has the right to. Before that, he managed to keep someone for six months before they requested a transfer to a different location.

You sense Jihoon’s gaze, realizing he’s picked up on your staring. His expression is as neutral as it was yesterday, as though he has zero interest in whoever you are. He must not - he turns away and gets back to what he was doing, the moment passing without fanfare.

Everyone in the room is paired with their pilots, going through fight sequences. You watch the different pairs, noting those who exhibit high-drift compatibility and others who are still learning. You note how many talented pilots this base has, likely due to the high activity.

As though the thought summons the very creatures from the depths of the ocean, an alarm goes off. You don’t flinch, used to the kaiju alert system. It had gone off the day before, though. You look up at the screen as it flashes the names of the pilots on duty, calling them to report to the drop bridge.

A few shouts of good luck draw your attention to the center of the room where two of the younger pilots head out. You’d seen them sparring earlier, so in time with one another that you weren’t sure where one began and one ended. The man looks at the girl and gives her a smile so full of love that you look away, startled at its intensity.

While romantic connections between pilots aren’t totally uncommon, you’re not used to it. Most of the Rangers at your old base were family members and childhood friends, connection deep and intimate but not like that. You wonder what it must be like, if it makes love any easier to be that deeply connected.

“So are you my new co-pilot?” a soft voice startles you and you turn to see that Jihoon has snuck up on you. His eyes are darker in person, entirely consuming as he looks down at you with a cocked head. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. “You must be, right?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re not a cadet. And you’ve been watching me for the better part of two hours.”

You shrug. “You can learn a lot from watching veterans.”

“You could at least offer to spar to see if we’re any good together.”

“You mean to see if I’m good enough for you.” He lifts a shoulder, not disagreeing with you. Wiping your palms on your knees, you stand up. Even though he’s small, you’re still a little shorter than him, nearly eye level. You stick your hand out, giving him your name. “But you can call me Blue.”

Instead of taking your hand, he nods and turns on his heel, striding back to the mat he occupied earlier. You stand and stare at the newly vacated spot, hand held out in the air. “Alright,” you mutter to yourself, dropping your hand and going after him.

Eyes follow you. You can feel them as you trail after him, watching his smooth, even gait. Everything about Jihoon is refined and controlled, even down to the minute expressions as he steps onto the mat and turns to face you. Sliding your shoes off, you join him, feeling the spring beneath your step and the softness of the floor.

Jihoon heads to a rack of bo staffs, picking one up and tossing it to you. You snatch it, spinning it lightly to test the weight. The balance is near perfect, a slight weight to the left side. You adjust accordingly, grip firm. Jihoon does the same, spinning his staff and rolling his shoulders.

“Who were those pilots called to make the drop?” you ask, conversational.

“Dino and Wylie.”

“Good pilots?”

He takes his stance. “Excellent. They’re terrors. It won’t be a problem for them. Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Ambidextrous.”

“Good.”

You don’t know why, but his assessing gaze bothers you suddenly. Like you know that even though you know you’re an excellent fighter, it still won’t be enough for him. The thought that you’ve lost before you even begun pricks a nerve and you strike first.

It’s immediately obvious why you’re compatible. Jihoon knows your next move before you know what it is. You feel him move like an instinct, imagining his attack and defense before it happens. It isn’t a fight, but a dialogue, two skilled fighters communicating in a pattern only familiar to them.

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and back. You barely register it, losing yourself in the rhythm of Jihoon’s movements. The sound of the training gym fades to the background and you barely hear the crack of your staffs as they meet over and over again. You hardly see him, vision fading to a narrow point of instinct.

This is how you fight. Muscle memory, driven by intuition.

Your intuition tells you that you’re perfectly matched, fighting style so similar that it’s hard to get a hit in - you won’t get a hit in, too in sync with him to out maneuver him.

So you deviate.

Instead of dodging a smack to the ribs, you let him hit you. His surprise is so apparent that he breaks his concentration and you strike, foot sweeping behind his ankle and pulling, knocking him from his feet. Jihoon goes down hard, breath leaving his lungs as you pounce, pinning him.

For a second, it’s just the two of you. His heart pounds, chest heaving in time with yours. Even your breaths are evenly matched, a tempo that is deeper than most human understanding. Drift compatible. You feel it the same way you feel the spark of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. You’re so aware of it that you don’t hear what he says at first, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.

“What?”

“That doesn’t count,” he asserts. “I hit you first. The fight is over after that.”

You frown. “The fight doesn’t end until there’s a killing blow. A swipe to the ribs wouldn’t do it.”

“That isn’t how that works.”

“There are no rules of engagement in the ocean.”

He scowls. “There are basic principles to fighting. You lose when you get hit first.”

“Do you lose when a kaiju hits you first? Or do you keep fighting?”

Jihoon huffs underneath you, shaking his head. You’ve still got him pinned, your palm pressed to his chest and your knee planted in his stomach. He glances away from you and you become aware that everyone has stopped to watch the two of you spar.

And you’re still on top of him.

Clearing your throat, you climb off of him smoothly. You offer a hand to help him up but he doesn’t take it, getting up on his own. He’s flushed, cheeks tinged peak and mouth twisted in frustration. You watch him as he gives the room around you a cutting glance, making everyone immediately turn back to what they were doing.

Jihoon puts his staff back and you watch him. He looks minorly irritated on the surface, but you can see it rippling deeper than that. He’s unsettled and it makes you grin.

“This won’t work,” Jihoon says as he turns back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his biceps flex and blink at him in confusion. “You can’t be my partner.”

“What? We’re compatible. That was one of the best fighting flows I’ve ever had.”

“We’re too different in principle.”

That gets a frown from you. “I don’t think so at all. You let your instinct guide you. So do I.”

“You deviate.”

“I let the natural dialogue of the fight lead me.”

You let silence fall between you. You can see why so many other pilots had issues with him. Jihoon approaches every statement as though it is the absolute truth, a fact that cannot be disproven. He speaks with the authority of someone who knows he’s right often, and frequently goes unchallenged.

Instead of letting him get a rise out of you, you switch topics. “Are you hungry?”

He pauses. “What?”

“What part of the question didn’t you understand? Are you hungry?”

Jihoon is perplexed. You’re sure that by now, mostly people have visibly grown upset with the combative dialogue. You don’t mind much, watching as he thinks on your question. You take the opportunity to appreciate the gentle slope of his nose up close, the delicate curve of his mouth, the contrast of feminine and masculine features that make an exquisite face.

Then Jihoon unfolds his arms and walks past you. You turn to follow him but he says over his shoulder, “I don’t want to have lunch with you. We’re not friends.”

There’s no room for argument in the way that he says it. You watch him as he leaves, never once turning back.

You are vexing.

There isn’t another word to describe you. Jihoon hasn’t the slightest idea how you’ve managed to so thoroughly irritate him at your first encounter, but he can’t stop thinking about how frustrated he is when he slams his tray down on the table.

It’s a little early for lunch, mostly engineers and staff going on shift soon filling the room to eat quickly. The giant clock above the entryway to the cafeteria resets and Jihoon relaxes a little, confirming that Chan and Wylie are fine. He knew they would be - a Category Two kaiju is nothing for a pair like them.

Jihoon finds himself thinking of you. Of what you must be able to do in a jaeger.

Curious, Jihoon looks up your name. It rings a bell - you were pretty renowned at your homebase. Clicking through videos, he sets his phone on the table as he eats, eyes glued to the screen. Your drops are easily accessible to him, clicking through them as he eats.

There is something hypnotizing the way you and your old co-pilot Maya Veliz fight. You’re efficient and without flashy moves, which he can appreciate. But there’s a speed at which you make decisions and take risks that has him shaking his head.

Yet, there is something vaguely familiar. He pauses his meal to watch closer, realizing what it is. There is a brutality to your fighting that he recognizes in himself, a need to kill. You fight to win, willing to take a little damage if it means you can deal the final blow.

The thought unsettles him. Your fighting style is so similar to his that he would be lying if he tried to say otherwise. There is logic and calculation to your moves, but then there’s always that deviation. That random blip in your pattern that is unexpected and dangerous.

“Will watching my drop footage make you like me more?”

Your voice startles him. He drops his fork and it clatters against the table, loud in the soft din of the cafeteria. You’re leaning over him, a smirk on your face and a devilish glint dancing in your eyes as you look at his phone screen where you successfully put down a kaiju.

“Deathclaw wasn’t very impressive. It was pretty small. My mom and I took out Umbraxis my first year, though.”

Jihoon snatches his phone and locks the screen, putting it face down. He scowls down, feeling his heart flip a little. Your scent drifts over to him at your proximity, a mix of amber and jasmine. It’s already familiar to him, having caught the scent when you pinned him down earlier, hand pressed to his heart-

You sit across from him and he looks up at you. His mind goes blank, staring as you unwrap your silverware picking up a fork to stab a piece of chicken and pop it into your mouth. You hum happily, totally unaware - or maybe unbothered - at his increasing irritation.

“Tell me about your jaeger,” you demand - not ask. Your eyes find his, two pools of curiosity that have his tongue heavy, words sticky. “I want to know all about her.”

“You’re not going to make the drop with me.”

The curve of your mouth is wicked. “Tell me anyway.”

For a few minutes, Jihoon doesn’t answer. He waits to see if the silence will push you away or make you anxious. It doesn’t seem to. You keep eating without saying anything else, occasionally glancing at him with a cocked brow as if to suggest you have all the time in the world.

“She was re-outfitted two years ago,” Jihoon says slowly. He doesn’t know why he’s answering you at all, but he continues, “Mark-5 now with the new outfitted tech - she’s still nuclear-driven to avoid any EMP attacks. Outfitted with GD6 steel-obsidian chain swords on each arm, but there are also smaller, detachable blades for hand-to-hand fighting, along with some projectiles. She’s also got a lightning strike powered by the nuclear-core but it can only be used once, and only as a last resort. It obliterates local wildlife in the water.”

“What’s the suspension look like?”

“Gyro-stabilizers to stay fluid when fighting and L-10 locks on all of the joints to strap in and withstand damage. She’s built to take a lot of blunt-force and melee attacks, but she’s top heavy if she loses footing.”

“Have you only been in Storm Breaker?”

He nods. “Since my first drop.”

“She’s beautifully built.”

Jihoon doesn’t respond. It does bring him a small sense of pride to know that you admire the jaeger he fights in, but he doesn’t thank you. He suspects you notice but doesn't say anything, which surprises him. You seem like the stubborn type who doesn't like to back down from a fight, and yet multiple times this morning you’ve conceded to him, refusing to get upset.

It bothers him. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re a people pleaser or if you think you're gentle-parenting him, and he doesn’t like it either way.

So he doesn’t talk to you. He lets the conversation die there, despite sensing your amusement from across the table. He feels the grip on his fork increase, metal biting into his palms as he tries to ignore you. He can smell the jasmine and amber of your perfume, which makes him feel more insane, and he can’t help but steal glances at you and dart his eyes away.

You’re pretty. He’s had attractive co-pilots before. That’s not new, nor has it ever bothered him. Something about you draws the eye, though. He thinks it’s the aura of confidence you give off, effortlessly comfortable in your skin and your situation, despite Jihoon not making it any easier on you.

“Hi,” The raspy voice interrupts Jihoon’s thoughts and he looks up as Wylie slams her tray down on the table. She’s sweaty, freshly peeled from her Drivesuite and offering a hand to you as she gives her full name. “You can call me Wylie, though. Everyone does. Are you Woozi’s new co-pilot?”

“Yes,” you answer at the same time Jihoon says no. “Though I didn’t know that was the name he preferred.”

Wylie shoots him a sly grin and sits down next to him. He curses and scoots over, the younger girl nearly on top of him as she leans her elbows on the table. “He doesn’t prefer it, which is why it stuck. He's a very cranky cat, but he’s nice once you get to know him.”

Jihoon scowls, turning to her. “Did I invite you to sit down with us?”

“No.”

That’s it. That’s the end of her statement. Jihoon watches as she settles happily, opening chocolate milk and chugging it back like it’s water. Jihoon cringes and readies to lob an insult her way when he’s interrupted again, another tray slamming down next to hers.

Closing his eyes, Jihoon summons all the gods he doesn’t believe in to give him the god damn patience. Chan is wearing a shit-eating grin as he leans across the table, offering his hand in the same, chipper manner his partner had moments before.

“I’m Chan. But you can call me Dino.”

“Why Dino?”

“I step on everyone.”

You raise your brows, amused, eyes flickering to Wylie. Sensing your question, Wylie says around a mouthful of mac and cheese, “Like Wylie Coyote because I’m a menace who doesn’t stop attacking.”

“How was your drop?”

“Easy,” they say in unison.

Jihoon focuses on his plate, feeling grouchy. They start to talk like he’s not even there, and though that is typically how conversations go around him, he’s suddenly bothered by it. Especially when you seem so smug that at least someone likes you.

He wants to tell you they don’t count. Chan is one of the nicest people in the Shatterdome and will talk to anyone, if they give him the time of day. Wylie isn’t exactly nice but she’s in love with Chan and is happy to be nice to anyone who is being nice to him. The pair are relatively easy to win over.

It only gets worse for him when Soonyoung and the others start sitting down. Everyone seems eager to ask you questions, a new shiny toy for his friends to play with. He chews on the corner of his lip, feeling stormy in the corner of the table as Seokmin peppers you with questions and exclamations at your answers.

A shift in tension makes Jihoon look up. Seungcheol sits down at the table slowly, as though trying not to be a distraction or catch any attention. He’s three seats away from Wylie and out of her eyeshot, but Wylie is a born predator, sensing him like a hunter. Her eyes cut over to Seungcheol and she bristles, shooting up to her feet to grab her tray and storm off.

Chan sighs, muttering a brief apology before grabbing his things and going after her. Jihoon glances at Seungcheol, watching the way his jaw ticks at the interaction. Surprisingly, you don’t ask any questions. You lean over to Soonyoung and ask him about some of their earlier fights, shifting the energy at the table from tense to light in a second.

Seungcheol relaxes, and though he doesn’t introduce himself, he’s not unkind to you. Jihoon feels a pang for the pilot, knowing that the last year has been difficult for him. Cherry left Seungcheol adrift without a partner, and he’s been unable to find someone to replace her.

He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative.

Jihoon does learn a little bit about you while listening to everyone talk, though. You've only had two co-pilots in your life where Jihoon has lost count. He wonders what growing up piloting with a parent feels like, and though you smile as you talk about growing up working with your mom, there’s a tightness to your mouth, a look in your eye that he can’t place.

Feeling his gaze, your eyes shift to him. Jihoon realizes he’s been staring at you. He stands and leaves the table abruptly, Seokmin’s voice apologizing on his behalf drifting after him.

Thankfully, you don’t follow him. He dumps his tray and leaves it in the discarded pile for the cafeteria staff and immediately begins the climb to the command bridge where the Marshall’s office is. His thoughts race but go nowhere at the same time, an echochamber that he can’t untangle.

Before Jihoon can knock on the entrance to the Marshall’s office, the military commander looks up and waves Jihoon in. “I was about to call for you. Shut the door, please.”

Jihoon does so without comment and sits down. He glances around the office, distracting himself as the Marshall finishes what he was working on. The office is orderly and tidy, every ounce the professional and uptight officer that sits in front of Jihoon, leaning back in the seat to sigh heavily and level Jihoon with a stare.

Before Jihoon can open his mouth to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t be his pilot, the Marshall speaks. “You’re on probation.”

“I - what?”

“For the next three months, if you lose your co-pilot, you will be reassigned to administrative work or to a new Shatterdome.”

Jihoon opens his mouth. Closes it. The weight of the Marshall’s words don’t quite sink in, though Jihoon can tell they’re heavy. Real. “We’ve given you plenty of chances to effectively remain a pilot for Storm Breaker, but the board feels as though the trade off has become an issue.”

“The trade off?”

“You’re costing us money. And cadets. People want to train where they can potentially see themselves become a pilot. When we have open spots and jaegers coming up on retirement, it bolsters recruitment.” The Marshall levels him with a tired stare. “But when we have a pilot who no one can partner with, it puts us in a bind to send cadets where they will fit elsewhere.”

“Look - “

“No you look, Lee. You’ve been a pilot here for six years. That’s considered a veteran in this field. But the higher ups grow tired of even veterans when they’ve been unmanageable for the last two of those six years.”

Heat flashes up the side of Jihoon’s neck, equal parts embarrassed and angry. He’d been the first in his class to suit up, selected as Haneul’s co-pilot to fill in for their partner that had retired. Jihoon remembers how proud - and nervous - he was and how easy it had been to partner with Haneul.

He didn’t have that anymore, the safety net of the only parental figure he’d ever known gone.

“The pilots you’ve paired me with have no business being in a jaeger,” Jihoon says matter of factly. “I don’t respect them.”

“Well good thing we’ve given you someone to respect.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I can’t fight with her.”

“You can and you will. Your drift compatibility is 98% and you have similar fighting style and come from similar machines. You’ll start Conn-pod training tomorrow.”

“Don’t make me partner with her. I don’t like her.”

The Marshall stands. “One day you might learn that if you give people a chance, you’d like what you find.”

“Marshall-”

“That’s all, Ranger.”

The air feels heavy as Jihoon leaves the Marshall’s office. He stops on the command deck, his eyes flickering over to the windows. The glass is floor to ceiling all the way around, giving the tower a 360-degree view of the pacific ocean. Blue stretches out as far as the eye can see, backdropped by the shining silver of the city.

Boats bob on the water, shifting back and forth on the dark surface. Air teams go back and forth, working in the aftermath of Chan and Wylie’s successful kaiju destruction. Jihoon can see the toxicity on the surface of the water, an oil slick that he knows the exact pungent smell of.

Trailing to an observation window, he stares with unseeing eyes. How many times had he stood up here and provided commentary to his friends during a fight? He didn’t frequent the command deck, but sometimes it gave him perspective. Or he was a little worried about his friends, especially when they were taking on higher category kaiju.

Jihoon chews on the side of his lip. He’s talked Wylie and Chan through plenty of bouts before. He remembers sharply the terror of the fight that had changed all of their lives over a year ago, watching as the hull of Fang Striker was breached, the screams of terror as Wylie took a talon to the stomach, nearly killing her. The aftermath of Chan’s grief.

A chill breaks out over his arms. Jihoon knows he isn’t cut out to sit through something like that again, to try and get a panicking pilot to focus and get to safety. He’s not made for an advisory role. Not built to watch pilots come and go, completely operating out of his control.

Death is easier to process in the heat of battle. It gives him an excuse to be distracted, to hide from the immediate pain of losing a pilot during a fight because he’s too busy protecting himself, protecting the city. He’s not made to watch it from afar and take the full weight of it.

Turning away from the window, Jihoon descends back down to the ground floor.

Probation period. Three months of having to stomach you or he’s out. Flexing his fingers, he heads to his room, needing the silence. If Jihoon is going to do this, he knows he needs to keep himself in line. Can’t push you away like he has the others.

And he hates you for it.

Music bleeds through the metal door out into the hall. You wonder how any of the neighboring rooms let him get away with it. Then again, Lee Jihoon seems like someone most jaeger pilots don’t go toe-to-toe with often, if they can help it. At least it’s classical music, the swelling sound of Mozart sweeping into the hallway as you open the door, propping it with your hip to haul the box in your arms through.

Jihoon’s eyes snap open immediately. He’s lounging on the bottom bunk of the bed in the far corner of the room, face lit by the glow of the muted screen in the corner showing the rain and ocean spray beating against the Shatterdome. Nothing disturbs the seas at the moment, though you wonder in a hotspot like this how long that will last.

A scowl twists his mouth. You let the door shut behind you, setting the box down on the media table by the doorway. “Mozart?” you ask, arching a brow. He glares at you, sitting up from where he had been lounging with his hands tucked behind his head. “A bit cliche, don’t you think?”

“What do you know about music?”

“Enough to know that someone with balanced compositions that orchestrate total control and logic in its make is… not surprising for you.” He blinks in surprise. “I like Tchaikovsky. There’s something more mercurial to his compositions.”

“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.”

“I didn’t say one was better than the other.” You smirk. “You don’t like differences of opinion, do you?”

“I always value opinions. Some more than others.”

“Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”

Jihoon closes his eyes and lays back on the bed. His blonde hair is undone, fanning around him in a silvery-white halo. “The trash chute, preferably.”

“Wherever I want, got it.”

He ignores you. You suppress a laugh and move into the room proper. It’s small, filled with only the essentials to house two people to eat, sleep, and shower. A small kitchenette sits to your left, hidden in darkness with all of the lights off. You spot a shelf filled with dry goods - mostly protein bars - and coffee. There is a sad excuse for a sitting area with a tiny table and two chairs next to the TV screen, a bunk bed with a wardrobe next to it, and a tiny bathroom.

Cozy.

Pulling open the wardrobe, you see that there’s room for your things. You shoot Jihoon a sidelong glance. He certainly hadn’t moved his things over to take over the full wardrobe after his last pilot left. You wonder if he’s just used to being unable to use the full space or if he had made room for you.

You doubt it’s the latter.

Ave Verum Corpus plays in the background as you unpack the tiny box that is your life. You hum along, shutting the wardrobe and padding over to the bathroom. Jihoon could be asleep for all you know, but you suspect he’s not. When you glance over at him after shutting the medicine cabinet, you see his foot tapping to the beat of the music.

“What other kind of music do you like?” His foot stops tapping at your question.

Turning off the bathroom light, you move to the door to break down the cardboard box you brought your things in. Jihoon doesn’t answer at first, his frame rigid with tension, as though he had forgotten you were there until you spoke. You suppose that’s entirely possible, if not a little unlikely.

Just when you think he’s not going to answer, he mutters, “I like ballads.”

“Romantic.” He frowns but doesn’t say anything further. “What’s your favorite one? Or artist?”

“Go play twenty questions with someone else. I’m not interested.”

“I’m going to find out anyway.” He opens his eyes then. They’re dark, pupils blown as his face twitches in an almost snarl. “It is an inevitable fact that we will have to drift. I recommend making peace with that now.”

“I’m going to bed,” he announces, flopping over on his side and crossing his arms.

You let Jihoon be mean. It does you no good to fight with him when you eventually need him on your side, and you can sympathize with him to a degree. He didn’t choose you as his pilot and he’s backed into a corner, a do or die situation that he can’t back out of. The only way is forward and it’s against his will.

As he pretends to sleep, you occupy yourself on the top bunk with your tablet, sliding headphones over your ears so he doesn’t bitch you out. Flicking through online channels, you familiarize yourself with your fellow jaeger pilots at the Shatterdome, watching fight footage and interviews.

You come across a set of popular pilots, only one of them familiar to you. You recognize the man from dinner earlier - he had sat down and the tension around the table had increased tenfold. Wylie had immediately clocked his presence and stormed off, Chan trailing behind her with an apologetic look.

Tapping on their information, you hum in interest to yourself. Seungcheol. You recognize the name, vaguely. He piloted Duellona Fury with his copilot, a woman you don’t recognize but that has a bright smile. They make a good team, totally in sync and feeding off each other’s energy. You wonder where she is now, assuming she’s the source of the tension between Wylie and Seungcheol.

You wonder what you and Jihoon will be like as drift partners. So far he seems to hate you, but he does tolerate you. It’s a start, if not ideal. You won’t start drifting right away - not for real anyway. Practicing combat drills and learning more about one another is the first step to any partnership, followed by practice drifts.

In the drift, there’s no room for hatred or enmity. Trust is paramount, but almost as important is respect. Respect for what you see in the thoughts and feelings of your partner, respect that they’re good at what they do and that they’re the best person for the job, respect that they are your equal. Too many partners get lost in trying to save the other, losing sight of being equally capable or feeling like they know better.

Jihoon doesn’t seem capable of that. Not right now, anyway. It doesn’t matter, though. You’re his only option to stay in the jaeger program, and though he hasn’t said anything about it, you’re pretty sure he knows.

“Can you shut the tablet off?” Jihoon grunts from below. You sigh heavily, tucking it to your chest. “The glow is fucking bright.”

“The TV is also glowing, Jihoon.”

“Yeah, so your tablet adds to the general light in the room.”

“Close your eyes.”

“It isn’t helping. Go under your covers.”

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in, you lock the tablet and shove it under your pillow. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Weather the storm, you think to yourself. Jihoon is angry and capricious, but it’s more to do with his situation than it is to do with you. And despite his snappy nature, there are flashes of him willing to work with you by answering questions, albeit with attitude.

You can do this. You can make Lee Jihoon like you. Maybe even respect you.

You are not a morning person. Lee Jihoon, however, is a morning person. Which is why it takes everything inside of you not to launch your pillow at him when you hear the classical music wake you from sleep in the morning, making you lift your heavy head to look around the room, vision blurry.

Heat from a fresh shower drifts from the bathroom only a short distance away. You stare in confusion, blinking rapidly as Jihoon walks out of the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth furiously with one hand, looking at his phone with the other, blue light making him look like a phantom in the dim light.

And he’s dressed in nothing but a towel slung low on his waist, making you nearly go catatonic.

It’s not like you haven’t seen a body before - it’s just a body, and soon enough, you’ll be in his head. It’s important to get any weirdness out of the way because in the drift, you’ll bare everything. But for some reason the image of his small, compact body scrambles your brain this early in the morning.

Jihoon is built like a weapon, all sleek lines and hard muscles. He stands in the kitchen, setting down his phone as he opens cabinets and starts to make coffee, toothbrush still in his mouth. The muscles in his back flex as he moves, skin pale and smooth as the moon.

“Are you a coffee person?” he asks, because he knows you’re awake. Of course he does. You don’t answer for a moment, stuck between eyeing the narrow taper of his hips and the question that implies he’s willing to make you coffee. He turns, arching a brow at you. “Now you shut up?”

That brings a scowl to your face. “Yes, I drink coffee.”

“Great.”

He goes back to what he was doing, ignoring you entirely. Dragging your eyes away from him, feeling flushed and overwarm, you throw the covers back, scrambling from the top bunk. You land with a soft huff, feeling the chill of the concrete floor as you dart to the wardrobe to pull out clothes.

“What time is it?”

“You have eyes, look at the TV.”

Got it, you think. He’ll make coffee for you but not do something as simple as answer what time it is. You do look at the TV, seeing the darkened feed of the churning ocean breaking against the walls of the Shatterdome. There are multiple camera angles, weather radar and Dome messages that break up the screen into sections. The time is in the top corner, flashing 5:13 am.

“Ji, it is five in the morning.”

“Five-thirteen. And don’t call me Ji. I’m not your buddy.”

Taking a deep breath, you mutter curses under your breath. “I’m going to shower.”

As expected, you get no response.

The great thing about living in a billion dollar buildinding with hundreds of people is that there’s no shortage of hot water. You’re grateful as the steam fills the room, hot water making your coiled muscles melt the second you step under the shower. You let the frustration from the morning fade away, the rush of the water and the feel of it sluicing down your back-

A loud knock on the door breaks your reverie. You hear it open. Jihoon grunts, “I wasn’t done brushing my teeth. I need the sink.”

“Then use the sink.”

Jihoon shuffles into the bathroom. You hear the faucet turn on and you go back to tilting your head backward under the stream of water, ignoring the sound of him going about his morning routine. In a way, it’s sort of peaceful, the sounds of him softly opening and closing cabinets and the clinking of jars against the counter soft in the background.

He’s back in the kitchen by the time you’re out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. You venture out into the main room in kind, deciding that if he is going to walk around in nothing but a towel, so will you. He barely gives you a glance from his bottom bunk, lounging around in low-slung sweats with no shirt, blonde hair splayed on his pillow. You ignore him in favor of the lone mug of coffee sitting in the kitchen steaming.

Gripping it and bringing it up, you let the ceramic warm you from your palms upward, inhaling before taking a tentative sip. It’s bitter but it helps you wake up. You glance at Jihoon from over the lip of the cup. He scrolls on a tablet mindlessly, as though he’s forgotten you’re there.

Neither one of you speaks as you finish your coffee. Turning to the sink, you start washing the cup out. You notice his used mug sitting in the bottom of the sink and pick it up, wash it and put it in the drying rack next to yours without thinking about it before returning to the bathroom to dress fully.

Once dressed and out of the bathroom, it’s almost six. Jihoon is bent over by the door, his boot on the coffee table as he laces it. Now fully dressed, his long hair is pulled back in a bun, a few silver whisps escaping and falling across his face. Again, you’re struck by how beautiful he is for a moment.

He straightens and looks at you, raising his brows. Instead of answering him, you hurry to the wardrobe, pulling out your boots to slide them on and head to breakfast. You half expect him to leave you behind, but to your surprise, he lingers with the door open, dark eyes clocking your every movement. As soon as you’re done tying laces, he’s out the door and charging again, leaving you to scramble behind him.

Silence follows you into the cafeteria, which has the quiet atmosphere of an early morning. Workers and pilots ending their shifts sit at the table, scarfing down breakfast for dinner. Early shift workers hurry to grab a bite before heading off to the different parts of the Shatterdome. It’s not nearly as loud as lunch or dinner, but the soft din is inviting as you go through the line, following your new co-pilot wordlessly.

None of the friendly faces from yesterday are in the cafeteria, so the two of you sit alone. Jihoon is methodical as he sets up his breakfast, each move calculated and precise. He eats the same way, finishing something entirely before moving on to the next time.

His obsession with organization and control is almost fascinating, if not a little worrying. Instead of asking about it, you eat in silence, humming delightedly at the cheesy hashbrowns made available that morning. He casts you a single annoyed glance when he notices you enjoying your meal.

Breakfast goes without a fight, though. Glancing at the large clock above the entrance to the cafeteria, you realize you only have a few minutes left before your day of training starts. Jihoon seems to be on the same wavelength, pulling out his phone to scroll through your schedule.

“Meditation first,” he murmurs. He shoves his phone in his pocket and stands without preamble. “Do you think you can manage meditation?”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but we haven’t spoken for over an hour.”

Confusion crosses his face, quickly followed by astonishment. He hadn’t realized that most of your morning has been spent in silence. His brows pull together, mouth turning slightly as he works over your words. It seems to make him unhappy. He narrows his eyes and his mouth twists before he turns and marches away from the table, leaving you behind.

Mouth quirking, you follow quickly, not wanting to lose your way to wherever it is you’re supposed to report to. He walks faster this time, determined to keep you moving and on your toes. Wherever the studio designated to you for the morning feels like it’s halfway around the world. Jihoon leads you down a series of halls and stairs, never slowing his pace once.

By the time you get to a small, soundproof room, your calves are burning.

“You need conditioning,” he mutters, noticing the way you’re a little out of breath.

“You basically just took me on a light jog,” you protest. “I think it’s fair to be a little winded this early in the morning.”

“It doesn’t matter what time it is. What will you do if we make the drop at four in the morning?”

Jihoon doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he goes to the middle of the room and sits down on the floor, and crosses his legs. Instead of taking his bait and picking a fight with him, you sigh and stride into the room. He positions himself, ready for you to sit in front of him. Instead, you circle around him, sitting down behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, twisting toward you.

“Meditating. Turn back around so we can be back-to-back.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, try. It’s easier to feel your breaths and your heartbeat this way. Plus, there's less pressure if you don’t have to look directly at me.”

“Thank god for that,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes at the barb but grin when Jihoon listens, twisting back around to face the front. He lets you settle against him, the warmth from his back melting into yours. He is rigid, his spine solid as it digs into yours for a second. You lick your lips, feeling electricity shiver down you at the contact, like there’s a spark.

The hum of the air condition is the only sound in the room. You close your eyes, leaning into Jihoon so that you fit flush together. You match your breaths with his, feeling your breathing slow down. Your heart slows to, like it’s trying to let him catch up, both of you melting into the same rhythm.

Behind you, Jihoon relaxes. The back of his head rests against yours, both of you leaning into the touch, becoming the equal opposing force holding the other up.

Balance is imperative in co-pilots. Jihoon needed to bring to the fight what you lacked and vice versa, the two of you making something whole, something complete. It’s a balance that’s not easily achieved, and though you’d always been a good pair with your mother and then maya, you know instinctively that it’s nothing compared to Jihoon’s counterbalance.

A timer goes off in the room, startling you with how quickly time has passed. You blink your eyes rapidly, letting the room swim back into focus. For a second, neither one of you moves, content to lean against the other until Jihoon seems to realize he’s still pressed against you. He scrambles to his feet unexpectedly and you fall backward, losing his counterweight immediately.

Thunking against the floor, you glare up at him. He smirks, looking down at you as he wipes dust from the back of his pants. “You should never let a co-pilot fall,” you huff, hauling yourself to your feet.

“Good thing we’re not really co-pilots.”

“Yet,” you supply. You get up, stretching and feeling your joints pop. “Even you can’t deny that it was a great first meditation session.”

“Let’s go. We have sparring.”

Jihoon doesn’t like you.

He doesn’t like you, but he has to admit you are a perfect fit for him. You are loud where he is quiet, you make light when he remains serious, and you deviate when he’s planned. Yet somehow, you manage to mesh with him in your training, the perfect opposite force to him.

For the most part, you leave him alone. He can tell you’ve figured out when to bite back and when to eat your words. It’s become a game to him, throwing insults your way to watch whether you’ll riposte back or swallow your pride.

The amount of times you swallow your pride impresses him, unfortunately. His original assessment that you are unpredictable and uncontrolled was wrong. He can see the way you actively meet his cold winter with warm summer, trying to melt him.

He doesn't like giving you credit for your control, but he does so begrudgingly.

Worst of all, he realizes that it’s not you he dislikes. It’s his situation, it’s knowing that you’re his lifeline and he has to accept you, and it’s knowing that despite his initial dislike, you’re a mirror that he can’t look away from. It doesn’t help that you live two feet away from him at all times, occupying every moment of his life just a reach-of-a-hand away.

Training is tiring. It feels like he’s a rookie all over again, going through the exercises as the two of you learn to fight together, moving through meditation sessions, sparring, talking sessions - which don't really involve a lot of talking on his part as much as yours - and drop simulations.

Drop simulations are the most exhausting for him. You bring everything to the drift. It’s nearly overwhelming at first how much you’re willing to show him. From the moment the mental bridge connects the two of you through the simulation software, Jihoon is shocked at the way you lay yourself bare. You hide nothing from him, letting him roam around your thoughts at his leisure.

He feels everything you’ve ever felt. Elation when you make your first real drop with your first co-pilot, your mom. Sore ribs after a particularly difficult sparring match when you were a teeager in the training program. Pride when you finish the top of your training program. Terror when a fight goes awry and your mother overwhelms you in the drift, taking the full neural load of the jaeger to protect you. Rage at her doing so.

“What happened here?” he finds himself asking, sticking near the memory.

He thinks you won’t answer him, but of course you do. Unlike him, you’re open for the taking. “The hull was breached in my first year of fighting. My mother panicked because it was on my side of the jaeger and she tried to take on the neural load.”

Jihoon says nothing. Piloting a jaeger alone overwhelms the nervous system and the brain, which is why each jaeger has two pilots in the first place. It can be done, but the risk for damage is always present. He senses where your conversation is going.

“We only piloted together for three more years after that. She was starting to struggle to make the drift, so we paused to get her examined. They discovered lesions on her brain and linked it to the damage from that day she tried to pilot alone.”

“She wanted to protect you.”

“She did, but it doesn’t make up for what she did. I was her equal, not someone she was supposed to protect.” You look at him and he looks at you, surrounded by your memories in the drift. “I am deserving of treated like an equal.”

He understands what you’re really saying, that he should treat you like an equal too. Instead of responding, he busies himself with studying other parts of you that you let him have.

There is a melody to your mind that he enjoys, though he’ll never tell you so. The more you drift together, the more Jihoon realizes that you are exactly like a Tchaikovsky piece. There is an organized chaos to you, a mathematical formula that is logical and measurable, but that deviates from the norm once in a while.

Every drift, you remain open to him, your thoughts for the taking. You don’t even hide the moments you’ve thought of him - both in occasional attraction and irritation. Irritation at him bringing nothing to drift, opening no part of himself to you. Irritation when he’s mean to you. Hesitant fondness when he does something nice. Confused attraction when he walks around in just a towel.

Water sluices down his back. Jihoon’s thoughts are still foggy from three weeks of nothing but practice and drills. He also finds it harder to sleep sometimes in the room, his dreams filled with the scent of your amber and jasmine and the lively sound of Tchaikovsky acting as the soundtrack to his dreams.

You’re still asleep when he exits the bathroom. He’s made sure to turn the light off before opening the door, steam billowing out after him. He scoops headphones from the nightstand as he heads to the kitchen, towel snug around his waist. He pops the earbuds in, the sound of Mozart starting his morning as he begins to make coffee.

Jihoon has quickly learned that the longer he lets you sleep in the morning, the less whiny you are when you wake up. Instead of playing his music out loud, he lets you sleep until he’s made two cups of coffee, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and milk to yours. He sets it on the table and walks back to the bathroom, one of the requiem pieces carrying him through his routine.

On the way to the bathroom, he stops by your bunk. He hesitates for a second, drinking you in as you sleep. Nestled in that top bunk is the only place you’re as peaceful as you are in the drift. Your features are smoothed out as you slumber, mouth open a little, drool sticky on the corner of your mouth. Jihoon’s lips twitch a little and he shakes his head before reaching out to tap the ankle hanging off your bed. You mumble in response.

“Get up,” he says gruffly. “You’ve slept long enough.”

He returns to the bathroom and shuts the door to get fully dressed. He knows you’ll be standing in the kitchen looking dazed and confused sipping coffee until he comes out and frees the bathroom for you to shower.

The alarm for a kaiju alert goes off. He hears it blaring over his music and he pulls the earbuds out, opening the door half dressed in just pants as he looks at the screen flashing red. A Category Four kaiju has been sighted in the bay. His heart skips, knowing that Cat-4 kaiju are dangerous even for the most skilled pilots at the Dome.

Assignments flash across the screen. Solar Saber and Fang Striker have been summoned to drop. Nervousness flutters in Jihoon’s stomach. He snatches a shirt and yanks it over his head, moving quickly around the room to grab boots.

“What are you doing?” you ask, leaning off the counter.

“Heading to the command deck. Come or don’t.”

“I’ll come.”

You dump your coffee in the sink, jumping to action as you peel off your pajama pants, searching for cargos. Jihoon hardly realizes you’re changing in front of him - he’s seen it all in your head anyway - as he laces his boots. He doesn’t know why, but he starts to explain himself, “Dino and Wylie have a… history with Cat-4 kaiju.”

“You want to be an extra set of eyes and ears.” He nods at the accurate assessment. “Got it. Run me through Solar Saber drop stats if you know them.”

Jihoon does. He fires off what he knows about the team. Their stats are fine, but a Category Four kaiju is new for them. They have a good jaeger. It’s on the newer side, nuclear powered with plasma cannons and a massive plasma sword that burns brighter than the sun, earning the machine its name. It’s piloted by a set of twins, which produce some of the best drifts in the jaeger program.

But there’s a nervousness in Jihoon’s stomach that he can’t place. Everytime his friends drop, he knows they’ll be okay - but he also knows the level of danger. Perhaps it’s because of Chan and Wylie’s accident last year or because they’re dropping with a team Jihoon doesn’t trust, but he suddenly wants to tell the Marshall to let Storm Breaker do the drop.

A hand brings him out of his thoughts. Your gaze is as calm as the surface of a lake, piercing. “We’re ready, if we need to be.”

Of course you know what he’s thinking. Despite his best efforts, you seem particularly good at stitching the tiny threads that escape through Jihoon’s wall of ice.

You drop your hand and grab the room keys, heading toward the door with top speed. His arm is warm where your fingers were a moment ago, burning like a brand. He shakes it off as he follows you out, both of you jogging up to the top level of the Shatterdome to observe.

Crew races around the dome. Jihoon sees Seungkwan and Vernon rushing up the stairs to the command deck. He follows suit, you quick on his heels. People fill the room, talking over one another as they shout into headsets and screens flash different camera angles.

The Marshall stands in the center of it all behind the LOCCENT Mission Controller who will walk the pilots through the fight. Jihoon doesn’t recognize the man giving them instructions, but he joins the wall of people standing behind him to observe the screens, taking a place next to Vernon and Seungkwan.

You glance at Vernon and back to Jihoon, a question in your gaze. “This is Vernon,” Jihoon says in response. “He’s currently a jumphawk pilot. Could be a jaeger pilot if he could figure out the drift but he’s too screwy up top.”

“Thanks, man.”

“You can call me Blue,” you offer. Your eyes drift to the screens. “Friends of the pilots out there?”

“Wylie is one of my best friends.”

Instead of telling him something like they’ll be alright or offering words of comfort, all you do is nod. Jihoon respects that. Anything comforting would be a potential lie and useless in a world of blood and metal, salt and fire.

The entire room falls into a steady cadence. Jihoon crosses his arms as he focuses on the screen. He’s mutely aware that you’re standing so close to him he can feel the heat of your arm, hands shoved in your pockets as you watch the screens, brows furrowed in concentration.

On screen, Solar Saber churns the water toward a towering kaiju in the bay. The creature is straight out of a nightmare, a barbed tail whipping across the surface of the ocean, misting water as it does. From what Jihoon can tell, it’s got four legs, each equipped with long talons. Rows and rows of teeth reveal itself as the kaiju opens its mouth and roars, the vibration from the sound so deep that it vibrates underneath his feet.

“I don’t like that tail,” Vernon mutters next to Jihoon.

“It’s like a manticore.” Jihoon glances at you. You’re not looking at them, but your head is tilted in curiosity as you point to the screen. “Four legs, a curved tail with a barb. The webbing around its neck suggests it might have a frill.”

“Strike teams, confirm positions,” the LOCCENT controller says into the mic.

“Fang Striker in position two miles north of kaiju and Solar Saber.” It’s Wylie’s raspy voice that crackles over the shared radiowave with the jaeger teams. “Perimeter is set.”

“Solar Saber ready to engage,” a female voice comes over the speaker. Jihoon recognizes it as one of the twin co-pilots, Jezzi.

“Permission to engage.”

As Solar Saber engages with the kaiju, the command deck goes quiet. People guiding the helicopters and ground teams speak softly into their mics, a level of tense calm washing over as everyone watches the fight ensue.

Solar Saber is beautiful to watch fight. The armor is painted radiant gold and the glow of the sword is magnificent against the stormy waters as it slashes at the kaiju. Jezzi and her sister Yaz are calm throughout their bout, their voices clear and communicative as the kaiju batters them.

“Cut off the tail,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s going to-”

Jihoon sees what you do as soon as you say it. While trying to kill the kaiju with a direct blow, Solar Saber has forgotten about the tail. The tip of the tail shivers, reminding Jihoon of a cat ready to strike, and it does. One moment, Solar Saber and the kaiju are locked in a wrestling match. Next, the tail is hammering the hull of the jaeger, striking over and over again like a scorpion.

Chaos explodes on the screens. Jihoon holds his breath as red flashes across the screens as the tail breaches the hull of Solar Saber. A tingle settles over him, the buzz of nerves as he watches Solar Saber take a knee, ocean water surging around the jaeger as the kaiju’s tail continues to hammer the jaeger’s head open.

Jihoon grabs the LOCCENT Controller’s chair and yanks him backward out of the way, jamming his finger against the button to speak. “Don’t let it force you under the waterline,” he barks. “Cut off that tail, Solar Saber. If it forces you down, you’re going to take on water and drown.”

“The right panel is damaged from acid from the tail,” Jezzi yells over the comes. “Sword arm cannot engage.”

“Then disengage, Solar Saber. Do not let it force you down another knee.”

Yaz screams back something incomprehensible over the comms. The left arm of Solar Saber lurches, reaching for the kaiju’s tail. It catches, yanking at the appendage hard. The kaiju screams as the tail breaks where Solar Saber has it gripped. The kaiju frenzies, screaming wildly as frills - just like you’d predicted - shake to life by its head, vibrating back and forth in a threat display as its dismembered tail whips back and forth, spraying ichor.

“Fang Striker engaging,” Chan’s voice comes over the comms.

It’s the Marshall who answers. “Fang Striker, hold the perimeter.”

“Fuck the peremiter,” Wylie seethes.

The Marshall turns to you and Jihoon. “We’re ready,” Jihoon says at the same time as you.

A string of curses leaves Marshall’s mouth. “Fang Striker, assist Solar Saber with the intent to disengage. Storm Breaker dropping in ten.”

Heart hammering, Jihoon turns to follow you out of the command center, footsteps like thunder as you sprint to the jaeger bay. He doesn’t even think twice about dropping with you, any reservations about you vanishing as the fighting instinct takes over.

You’re an entirely different person when you step onto the catwalk, your team already scrambling with pieces of your Drivesuit. There is an eerie calm about you. You meet his gaze head on as your team fits armored pieces of Drivesuit onto your arms. Jihoon sees himself reflected so clearly that he’s startled.

“What?” you ask, sensing the bewilderment.

“Show me what you’re made of,” he says simply.

Your mouth curves in a wicked grin and you nod once, understanding.

Storm Breaker is beautiful. The fondness for her sweeps over him as he steps into the cockpit. The screens come to life, casting blue and red glow all over as he steps into the Conn-pod. He sheds any reservations he has as the team helps him connect. You’re only a few feet away, stepping into the left side of the Conn-pod.

Jihoon’s world shifts to screens and canned voices in his headset as the shield of his helmet closes. It’s Seungkwan he hears over comms saying, “Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”

“Do the pilots always take over the LOCCENT Controller’s here?” you muse, just to Jihoon.

His lips twitch. “What can I say? Seungkwan knows I’m a control freak.”

“Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…”

The world around him goes mute for a moment. Jihoon’s vision flashes white for a second. He feels you then, your thoughts and feelings becoming his. They’re not overwhelming though. He feels focus and determination from you with an undercurrent of ferocity. All of your memories and other feelings are there too, but they exist in the background. You’re a seasoned pilot, Jihoon doesn’t have to worry about you chasing the rabbit and falling down a hole of memories.

“Neural handshake holding and strong,” Seungkwan calls. “Initiating drop in three… two… one…”

Jihoon’s stomach flies into his throat as he falls away from the world. The world is nothing but freefall for a few seconds. He feels the thrill that shoots through you and smiles - he can’t help it. Bending at the knee, he braces for impact. You do the same, and the cockpit lands on the jaeger’s mainframe with a metallic clang.

“Calibrating right hemisphere,” Jihoon announces, feeling the machine start to power to life. “Calibrated.”

You repeat on the left side, the full machine powered on and ready with both hemispheres locked in.

“Storm Breaker ready to pursue,” Jihoon says. He looks up at the screen where Fang Striker is engaging the kaiju. Outside of Storm Breaker, he might feel his heart race with panic. Solar Saber is overturned and he has no idea if the pilots are inside of it as it takes on water. “Two miles out from contact.”

“Pursue.”

Your first step as a team is perfect. Fluid. Jihoon knew it would be. He hates to admit that he was wrong, but he knows it is. There is a thread of satisfaction bleeding over from you as Storm Breaker charges into the ocean, water rising rapidly around the waist.

Ocean water slams against Storm Breaker’s chest as you charge toward the fighting. Fang Striker’s comms are patched in, but Wylie and Chan are silent as they rip at the kaiju, pulling at one of its wings that it unfolded from its back. Fang Striker looks tiny against the hulking mass of the monster, but its team is doing what it does best, savaging the creature a little at a time.

“Storm Breaker half a mile out,” you announce, voice like steel. “Ready to engage.”

“Engage at your discretion.”

“Storm Breaker,” Chan says over comms. “Try and restrain this motherfucker. We’ve got a loose plate in its armor to exploit but it keeps shaking us off.”

“Heard.”

As if hearing Chan, the kaiju flings Fang Striker off. Fang Striker’s red body crashes into the ocean, Wylie cursing the kaiju straight to hell and about fifty other foul places.

Storm Breaker engages, both you and Jihoon plunging into the fight. The kaiju swipes at you but you both duck together, dodging the swing as you punch hard from the left in tandem. You knock it hard, it’s head snapping to the side. As a team, you use the opening to wrap the right arm around the kaiju’s neck, squeezing it toward Storm Breaker’s chest in a headlock.

Stabilizers and locks click into place. He grits his teeth, as though feeling the actual strength it takes as the kaiju roars and claws at Storm Breaker, trying to free itself from the headlock. Together, you put the left arm around it, adding to the force to keep the kaiju from slipping from your grip.

Clawed blows hammer down on Storm Breaker. Neither of you gives way, tightening your grip on the creature and ignoring the way the talons scratch against the hull. Storm Breaker is built to withstand, and neither one of you flinches as furious blows rain down on you, fists hammering.

“It looks like that kaiju is playing you like a bongo,” Wylie’s voice comes over comms. “Hey Woozi, do you feel like it’s composing one of those songs you like?”

“Oh sure,” he shoots back. “Take your time, Wylie. It’s not like it’s trying to crack us like an egg.”

“Ugh,” you sigh. “Don’t talk about food. I didn’t eat breakfast. Hey Seungkwan, can you ask Joshua to save me some hash browns? He’s always at the cafeteria first.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You’re all insane. Any day now, Fang Striker.”

Fang Striker appears from the sky like a creature from hell, a red streak of death as it falls. They land on the kaiju’s back, the force of the landing vibrating through Storm Breaker’s frame. The kaiju tries to twist in Storm Breaker’s arms, but you and Jihoon tighten even further. Fang Striker’s sword glints in the sunlight as it unsheathes.

“Don’t stab us,” you say at the same exact time that Jihoon has the thought.

They almost do. Fang Striker buries the sword through the back of the kaiju, the tip of the blade peaking through its chest, almost scraping against Storm Breaker’s stomach. The monster thrashes wildly for a few minutes, clawing at Storm Breaker’s hull. Fang Striker hits the release on their sword, leaving it embedded in the kaiju’s back to stand and fire into the kaiju with plasma cannons.

Jihoon feels the tremor of the shots land. There’s a final kick from the kaiju before it slumps, putting all of its deadweight on Storm Breaker. In unison, you and Jihoon throw the creature off of you. It lands with a crash, water surging around the creature as its weight drags it down before buoyancy pulls it back up.

Storm Breaker straightens, standing in the open water with a battered Fang Striker a couple of yards away. Panting, Jihoon looks across the Conn-pod where you’re already looking at him, shield on your helmet up as you grin at him. There is unguarded happiness there, nearly as bright as the sun that glints off Storm Breaker’s helm.

“So,” you ask the group. “Can we get hashbrowns now?”

Jihoon realizes at that moment he doesn’t dislike you at all.

“Would you slow down?” Jihoon asks, setting his tray down next to you roughly. He plops in the seat next to you, giving you a severe side eye. “You’re going to throw up the second you hit the treadmill eating that fast.”

“I want to get more bacon before they run out,” you whine. “They won’t make more once it’s gone.”

Uncovering the top of his tray, Jihoon reveals a heap of bacon slices. You oggle as he sets it between the two of you, shaking his head and scoffing. “Yeah,” he huffs. “I know. I brought more, so slow down.”

Affection for your co-pilot warms you. The affection is certainly one-sided, but you don’t mind. In the four months you’ve been co-piloting with Jihoon, he still hasn’t opened up to you.

Despite having made the drop five times together, Jihoon still brings almost nothing to the drift. You catch pieces of him, tiny snippets of memories or emotions or thoughts as you become one. You slowly use them to fit together the pieces of the Jihoon puzzle you’ve been working on every day.

It helps that you live in such close proximity, too. Jihoon’s habits speak far more for them than his words ever could. Like the way he wakes up at the same exact time every day and tries to be asleep at the same time every night, or the way he meticulously cleans your shared living space every Sunday, or the way he starts every sparring session with the same eight-stretch sequence.

He still doesn’t talk about him in your time slotted for getting to know one another. It’s not therapy exactly, but every pilot team has designated time daily to talk things out. To work through things that are bothering them, or to talk about themselves. The more pilots know one another, the better they fight.

You know virtually nothing about Jihoon. He doesn’t talk about himself during sessions, so you talk for him. You tell him about your childhood, about piloting with your mom, about how much you miss Maya. He eventually starts asking questions. Provides responses.

“We’re on the drop schedule tomorrow,” Jihoon notes, flicking through his tablet on the table next to him. “It’s graveyard shift. Do you want me to ask Mingyu and Wonwoo to switch to the day shift?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

He gives you a critical look. “You’re awful in the mornings.”

“Not when I’m fighting.” You snatch more bacon. “Would you rather me or Mingyu in a jaeger at two in the morning?”

“Point taken.” Both of you know the only person more miserable than you in the morning is Kim Mingyu. Jihoon nudges you with your elbow and gestures to the bacon. “Finish up. We have to workout soon.”

“Ugh.”

He smirks. “Cardio day.”

“Ji, no.”

He ignores the nickname. “So much running.”

Now you know he’s doing it on purpose. There are few things in your training schedule that bring Jihoon joy like torturing you during scheduled workouts. He had started slating them each day, determined to harden your conditioning despite the fact that you’re already in decent shape.

Decent is a word in his vocabulary. He only expects perfection and even then, you’re pretty sure it’s unattainable. Still, you finish your breakfast and let him lead you to the gym, peppering him with whining and protests the entire way. He ignores them with a placid smile, hands linked behind his back as he walks.

When you get to the gym, there are other pilots and workers using their free time to exercise. There’s only a single treadmill open, which Jihoon gets on easily. You start to edge your way toward yoga mats with the intention of not working out at all when he leans over to look at the time on the treadmill next to him.

“You’ve been on it for an hour,” he grunts at some boy who looks like a cadet. “Off you go.”

The cadet scrambles off, almost forgetting to turn the treadmill off before he does. He bows in respect before shooting off like a frightened school of fish. Jihoon turns to you, grinning as he pats the machine. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you deadpan. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”

Jihoon’s grin only grows when you step onto the treadmill as he leans over the rail and turns it on, pressing the incline and speed buttons until you’re walking at a warm up pace. Which, for Jihoon, is a solid jog.

As you jog, you fish out headphones from your pocket. You pop them in your ears, careful not to trip as the sound of classical fills your ears. You’ve taken to using Jihoon’s playlists, despite originally making fun of him for it. You find that it distracts you more than you thought it would, and it helps that you feel like a character in a fantasy movie running to an epic soundtrack.

You’ve adopted a lot of things that Jihoon does. It happens naturally, especially the more you drift. You find yourself putting on Mozart instead of Tchaikovsky or taking your coffee black on accident or scolding others in the training room for not being precise and perfect.

Ghost Drifting is what some call it. You don’t think you’re quite there yet, being that Jihoon still hides half of himself away. But sometimes, even outside of the drift, you feel him in your mind like a phantom presence.

After your workout, you go through the same day you have everyday: meditate back to back, sparring, and your talking session, which mostly consists of you both sitting next to one another looking over your drop footage and noting areas for improvement.

Jihoon’s shoulder is pressed against yours, his eyes focused on the tablet in your hands, tracking the slowed down movement of the video. He taps the screen, pointing to the right side of the jaeger that he pilots. “I was a bit slow here.”

“It’s not your reaction time, you’d never punch that slow. That’s the arm that took damage two fights ago against Razorbill. Let’s talk to the J-Tech team and see if there’s a delay in the receptor. It might be a split second off.” He snorts and you glance sidelong at him. “What?”

“You don’t think I’d punch slow?”

“No.”

Jihoon raises his brows. You can feel his surprise at your seriousness to his question. He obviously expected you to turn it into a harmless jab, but you mean it when you say, “Your reaction time has been perfect for the last sixteen drops you’ve made. If there’s a delay, it’s the machinery. Not you.”

He looks away from you, nodding once. The tips of his ears are red and he mutters, “Thanks.”

Instead of pressing the matter like you want to, you smile and hit play again, both of you focusing on the screen once more to talk through the remainder of your allotted bonding time.

In your room, Jihoon turns on the speakers, the sound of Pas de Deux from the Nutcracker floods the room. You pause by the wardrobe where you’re shucking your boots off, gazing at Jihoon as he moves into the kitchen silently, taking out two mugs, a box of peppermint tea and a kettle.

He doesn’t feel your eyes on him, going about making tea for the both of you. He hums along to the song - you don’t know when he became so familiar with it, his movements comfortable. Practiced. Relaxed. A swell of affection overtakes you, realizing you don’t know when he started making you tea. Or putting on Tchaikovsky for you. Or not biting at you every two seconds.

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You turn away from him, busying yourself with your boots to spare him from making an excuse as to why he’s making you tea. Because you’ll know he’ll give one, provide you with some sort of excuse that it isn’t a favor or because you’re friends, but rather something like the tea bags are too large for one or I have to boil the water anyway.

When you’re done changing for bed, he’s standing next to you, mug extended. He doesn’t look at you, instead finding interest in the cameras outside the Shatterdome. You take the mug from him and say nothing, knowing he’d rather you not thank him.

Mug in hand, you climb carefully into the top bunk, crossing your legs as you nestle the mug next to you, pulling out your tablet to read. He gets into bed without a word, both of you existing in comfortable silence, just like Jihoon prefers.

Alarms wrench you from sleep. You’re thrown forward in your bed, red flashing on the TV as the kaiju alert system wails. You wipe sleep from your face as you haul yourself over the edge of the bunk, landing next to Jihoon who is pulling off his sweats in favor of cargo pants as quickly as he can. You feel dizzy and off balance as you do the same, shoving one foot in your pants and hopping on one leg as your foot catches while trying to shove in the other.

Jihoon grabs you by the elbow, holding you steady as you shove your foot through the leg of your pants and shoot him a grateful look. He nods, letting you go to finish zipping his pants and digging around for a shirt. He can’t seem to find one, cursing under his breath as he roots around. You toss him one of yours instead, grabbing a pair of socks and throwing yourself onto his bunk to yank them on, quickly followed by shoes.

“Fuck,” Jihoon mutters as he looks up at the screen, the red painting him in hellish light. “We’ve got a Cat-4. They’re dropping Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker with us.”

“Dino and Wylie weren’t even on rotation.”

“They’re not making the same mistake they did with Solar Saber.” He pulls out a tablet, squinting against the glow. “We're the last line of defense. Hao and Jun will take point with Fang Striker.”

“Got it. Let’s go.”

You take off at a jog, easily keeping pace with one another as you go. There are jaeger teams moving about the building getting ready, the alarms still sounding as you navigate to the jaeger bay. Your team is already there and ready to fit you into Drivesuits, sliding each piece of armor on with practiced care.

Jihoon catches your eyes from where he stands across from you, letting a team member slide his hand into a metal glove. His eyes are dark as the stormy sea outside, a bottomless well that you can’t seem to dive down into, but want to. His lips twitch a little and he gives you a nod, which you’ve come to understand is Jihoon for I trust you.

Screens blink to life as you enter the Conn-Pod. Closing the front shield of your helmet, you immediately turn on open comms, listening as the Marshall and LOCCENT Controller on duty - you think it’s Nainsi - talking Minghao and Junhui through their neural handshake.

The spine of your Drivesuit connects to the Conn-pod, your heads up display coming to life. You feel the metal whirring and clicking into place, rotating your shoulders and flexing your fingers as your jaeger team finishes connecting Jihoon to the Conn-pod before exciting and shutting the door firmly.

“Storm Breaker ready to drop,” Jihoon announces.

“Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence,” Nainsi answers. “Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…”

It’s like jumping off a cliff into freezing cold water. You feel the flash of cold, vision going white for a split second before you feel Jihoon’s calm flow through you. He’s steady like an icy river, his thoughts, feelings and emotions hidden down in their dark depth where they can’t bother either of you.

You’re like rapids, rushing thoughts and feelings, pouring everything through the drift at him. He takes it in stride, used to the white-capped rush of information he gets from you each time you connect. Jihoon adjusts easily, already hitting buttons on his screen as images from your day flash through your mind - including you watching him make you tea in the kitchen.

Jihoon says nothing about that. He says nothing about the gentle wave of your embarrassment either as Nainsi says, “Neural handshake strong and holding.”

Chan’s voice crackles through comms. “Fang Striker on standby for neural handshake.”

“Copy. Storm Breaker prepare for drop in three… two… one.”

Dropping feels like falling through the core of the earth. For a few moments, it’s a flightless feeling as you fall through the Shatterdome. Then you land, knees absorbing impact as the head of the jaeger falls into the neck socket, locking in.

“Calibrating right side,” Jihoon announces. “Calibrated.”

“Calibrating left side. Calibrated. Ready to engage.”

Nainsi confirms calibration and directs, “Storm Breaker, take north point defense two miles from the shoreline. Hold that line. Fang Striker, engaging in pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence in three… two… one.”

You tune out the rest of Fang Striker’s drop as you and Jihoon behind to charge into the bay. The windshield in front of you immediately froths with sea salt and wind, battering down on the jaeger as the night sea surges against Storm Breaker’s legs. You cut through the water like a knife, carving your way toward the defense line as the jumphawk team flies into place.

“Five minutes until surface breach.”

“Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp.

“Sup?”

“Would kill for a coffee right now. And like, a bagel. Or hashbrowns?”

Vernon groans. “Mood.”

Jihoon snorts but says nothing. Minghao’s voice comes over the comms, soft and cool. “Blue, everytime I drop with you you’re talking about food.”

“Have you considered that Ji doesn't feed me?”

“So it’s Ji now, huh?”

“Don’t get her started,” Jihoon grunts at Minghao’s teasing. “One mile out from the line of defense.”

Chan joins the conversation, voice chipper. “Fang Striker ready to pursue. Also, good morning everyone!”

Everyone groans in misery collectively instead of greeting him back. Wylie’s voice cracks like a whip as she spits out, “Be nice to him.”

Everyone greets Chan after that. Jihoon shakes his head, amused. “Fang Striker, escort Emperor’s Mandate to engage. Four minutes until surface breach.”

Black ocean ripples outward in front of Storm Breaker as you move. You near the defense line, the city lights like a sea of stars at Storm Breaker’s back. Air support circles overhead, monitoring kaiju activity and helping with positioning. You see the spotlights glinting on the surface, waiting for a kaiju to surface.

To the east of your position, Fang Striker and Emperor’s Mandate cut through the water. Fang Striker’s red paint is violent against the night, but her build is small next to the towering white fury of Minghao and Junhui’s jaeger.

“Storm Breaker in position,” Jihoon calls. You both stop moving, your jaeger coming to a standstill as the water sloshes around your waist.

“Standby, Storm Breaker. Kaiju breach in one minute.”

“Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker in position. Ready to engage.”

“Engage at your discretion.”

Comms go silent as the strike team waits for the kaiju to appear. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence pregnant with tension. You feel a tentative brush of Jihoon’s thoughts against you. You turn and glance at him, surprised.

Jihoon is watching you with a stormy expression, thoughtful. “You thinking about letting me in that big ass head of yours?” You tease, just in your personal comms.

He smirks and shakes his head, breaking eye contact to look out the front of Storm Breakers cockpit. “Not a chance.”

It’s a lie. You know it's a lie because you feel it is as sure as you feel your own glittering satisfaction that he’s thinking about it. That Jihoon is considering opening the door for you, even a fraction.

Your satisfaction only lasts a second as the kaiju breaches the surface in front of Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker. You watch in strained silence as the jumphawk team begins reporting what they can about the makeup of the kaiju.

Emperor’s Mandate engages immediately, their metal saber chain shooting from the right arm and punching through the shoulder of the kaiju. An electromagnetic pulse goes down the chain and it goes taught like a sword as Junhui slices upward, attempting to sever the kaiju’s arm.

The kaiju lands a hard punch to Emperor’s Mandate in the middle, sending them backward into the ocean as the chain-turned-sword pulls out as they fall. Fang Striker is there before the kaiju can attack again, charging and tackling the kaiju at the waist. She’s not built for heavy fighting, but Chan and Wylie are vicious, clawing at the kaiju with their metal claws.

“Fang Striker, roll!” Minghao orders. Fang Stricker does, using the kaiju as weight to rock themselves over and under the creature, vanishing beneath the water’s surface as Emperor’s Mandate lands a punch to the kaiju’s back with a plasmacaster, turning the night blue as the sparks flare. “Push and we’ll pull.”

Salt spray mists the windshield as you and Jihoon watch in silence. The kaiju is a massive, hulking beast with spikes down its spine and a nasty club tail that catches Fang Striker in the knees, taking her down. The two jaeger teams work in flawless tandem, punching when the other ducks, tackling with the other falls.

In a way, it’s beautiful to watch the fury of what a jaeger can do. Your lips twitch upward as the fight starts to go their way, Emperor’s Mandate severing the leg of the monster as Fang Striker pounces on it, sinking both clawed hands into its shoulder blades and tearing through its hide.

“Storm Breaker-” Vernon’s panicked voice gets cut off as your world turns upside down.

You feel yourself slam against the restraints of the Conn-pod connecting you to the jaeger. A surprised shriek escapes you as you flip head-over-feet in Storm Breaker, crashing into the ocean with a violent slam. A kaiju raises itself from the water, rearing its head like a cobra as it shrieks, the sound shaking the entire hull.

“What the fuck?” Jihoon screams over comms. Storm Breaker rolls as the kaiju strikes like a snake, barely missing you as it hits empty water. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“There was no reading!” Vernon yells back. “The signature appeared a half second before it attacked like it had some sort of stealth mode!”

“Kaiju don’t have fucking stealth mode, Vernon!”

“Maybe it got an iOS update man, I don’t know!”

There’s no time to care about why or how a kaiju isn’t appearing on the reporting team’s screen. Whatever level it is, it’s fast. You and Jihoon get to your feet just as it strikes again, fangs striking at the windshield. It doesn’t crack, but the sound of kaiju bone against the glass isn’t promising.

Storm Breaker stumbles back a few steps before regaining footing. You both strike with your right fist, slamming into the neck area of the beast as it winds up to strike again. It looks like a massive cobra, coils and coils of kaiju body gathering each time it tries.

A shudder vibrates through the jaeger as the punch lands, sending the kaiju back several hundred yards. You don’t give it a moment to recover, both of you charging as you equip short swords perfect for close-combat fighting and slicing.

“I think it’s too fast to pick up a reading,” you shout over comms. “It moves so quickly!”

Fighting is a careful rhythm. You and Jihoon find it immediately, tuning out the sound of the other fight as you zero in on your target. It doesn’t matter that the kaiju took you by surprise, it doesn’t matter that Jihoon still hasn’t let you in, it doesn’t matter that somewhere, you have other friends in just as much danger.

What matters is this. The feeling of rage that flows from Jihoon - or maybe it’s you - as you both savagely plunge a sword in the serpent body of your enemy. What matters is the way you and Jihoon flow, two rivers with the same curves and dips, sliding around the kaiju as you strike again, spraying ichor into the sea.

Storm Breaker’s sword extends from the right arm, reflecting the city lights briefly before you cut sideways. The blade slides clean through like a knife through paper. You and Jihoon both scream savagely in unison as the head flies separate from the body, sailing in the air for a moment before crashing into the surface as blood spurts from the main body.

It flails for a moment longer before crashing under ocean froth and water. Victory surges through you and you look across the Conn-pod where Jihoon is grinning at you, stars in his eyes. You feel a moment of elation, laughter bubbling to your lips as Nainsi recalls you to the Dome, Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker standing victorious.

“That’s kill number six?” Jihoon asks, voice delighted. “We’re on a fucking roll.”

“I guess I’m not so bad a co-pilot after all, right?” He rolls his eyes but you get the feeling the tips of his ears have turned red. “Come on, Ji. Tell me I’m a good co-pilot.”

“No way.”

“Come onnnn.”

He levels a look at you, dark eyes churning. He licks his lips, opening and closing his mouth before he finally murmurs, “Can I show you instead?”

The left foot of Storm Breaker is yanked from under you. You go down screaming, feeling the impact of the seafloor as you go down in the shallows hard. Pain shoots up your left arm as you slam against the restraints keeping you attached to the Conn-pod. Lights flash in your heads up display and a sensor starts going off, the left arm of the jaeger going dead as it loses connection.

Jihoon is screaming your name over comms as you grit your teeth, and gather your bearings. You suck in a sharp breath as you both scramble to get Storm Breaker on her feet. “Left arms gone cold,” Jihoon yells over comms. You manage to get Storm Breaker to her feet as you both throw out your right arm, bracing for impact as the kaiju’s head strikes again. “It grew back two fucking heads!”

“Fang Striker pursuing!” It’s Chan voice over the comms. “Three miles out from contact.”

One of the heads strikes at the helm again, knocking into Storm Breaker hard. Your world rocks as you shove with the full force of the right side of the jaeger, thrusters turning on as you launch the kaiju and its twin heads backward.

“How the fuck do we kill this thing?” you screech, charging toward the creature as it slides through the water, coiling to strike again. “If we cut off its head again, it’s just going to grow another.”

“Stab it through the head? I don’t fucking know!”

Snatches of panic and anger and concern seize you for a split second, it feels like your own but you realize it’s not, Jihoon’s feelings bleeding into you like a fresh wound as you strike at the kaiju again. Its tail loops around the left leg again and Jihoon’s worry spikes, so raw and unfamiliar that when he lifts his foot, you don’t lift yours.

Storm Breaker stalls, filled with mechanic screeching as the two of you clash in the drift in a moment of indecision. A storm of emotions batters down on you. Your lungs squeeze as you feel yourself torn away from the fight and into Jihoon’s memories, each one flitting by so fast you can barely resonate with them.

A little boy bullied by bigger kids. A woman being torn out of a home screaming in the hand of a kaiju. The sound of Mozart drowning out the screams of destruction. Young Jihoon crying in his room alone, nursing bruised ribs and knees. Teenage Jihoon fighting back. A man named Haneul that has seen all of Jihoon’s scars.

“... out of alignment!”

Words crash through you as you feel a tremor go through Storm Breaker. Jihoon’s thoughts are like a hurricane tearing at your foundation.

Hatred when he meets you for the first time. Pride when he makes his first successful drop. Grief when Haneul retired. Resentment when he’s reassigned to a new pilot.

Jihoon screams your name but you are drowning in him. Jihoon’s emotional dam has broken and years worth of who he is comes out in a torrent.

Jihoon joins the pilot program because he wants to get away from the home. The smell of books and oil lanterns. Greasy fingers and fumes. A blue mat rushing up to meet him as he falls.

“Emperor’s Mandate two miles out. Preparing to engage!”

Bitter coffee. Celebrating Haneul’s birthday. The sting of Chan biting him mid spar. Pretending he didn’t hate his childhood. Hiding the scared little boy behind a controlled exterior.

“She’s chasing the rabbit!”

Chasing the rabbit. You hear the word and vaguely realize you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Jihoon’s memories and emotions, completely unused to them in a space where you’re connected intimately. You try to gather your bearings, shutting down the images flashing across your mind that don’t belong to you as Storm Breaker gets rocked again.

“Shit,” Jihoon swears. “Blue, come on. Come back to me. I’m sorry. Don’t chase my memories!”

A kite against a blue sky. Two paper boats on a lake. Your smile as you hang upside down off the bunk bed. Soonyoung giving Jihoon a birthday cake. Wylie in a hospital bed. Jeonghan and Joshua accepting pilots of the year.

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon whispers, both in your mind and outloud. “Come back.”

You can do this. You can withstand the storm of Jihoon’s consciousness. You shake him out of your head, sorting out your thoughts and his. It’s nearly impossible to understand where you end and he begins, but you manage to hold back the wake of his uncontrolled consciousness.

Blinking, you come back to the present. There are lights and warnings going off as Storm Breaker takes another strike from the kaiju. Fang Striker is taking on its other head, the kaiju splitting focus between two jaeger teams as it tries to split open the top of your jaeger. Wylie and Chan are yelling in comms and Emperor’s Mandate is in pursuit to help you disengage.

The left arm of your jaeger is still cold, totally disconnected from the rest of the machinery. You run through a list of fighting options with one arm down. The right side of the jaeger is fitted with a sword, explosive and a plasma caster in the first of the hand. But the jaeger overall-

“Light it up,” you tell Jihoon. His relief crashing into you like a tidal wave. He understands what you want to do immediately. You feel his agreement rather than see it as you both start to tap controls on your control panels. “Fang Striker, prepare for lighting strike!”

“Fry this motherfucker!” Wylie screams. “I fucking hate snakes!”

The nuclear reactor at the core of your jaeger starts to charge. From the top down, your jaeger begins to power down, lights flickering out and screens going dead. Your heart hammers as the kaiju slams into the head of the jaeger over and over again, trying to crack the helm wide open. Storm Breaker takes the savage blows as all but the nuclear core shuts off.

A low hum begins to sound at the heart of the machine. You feel the vibration tingle in your spine as all of the energy flow focuses in the center of the jaeger, slowly charging and pulling electricity from everywhere else. It’s a slow process, the kaiju beating down on you as the core winds up.

“Fuck,” Jihoon swears at a particularly harsh strike. “This fucking bitch!”

“We’ve got it,” you tell him. You look across the Conn-pod at him, his face pale behind the shield of his helmet. “She’s not going to break, Ji.”

You feel your words resonate in him. His affection is startling. He hides nothing from you now, every thought he’s ever had of you, every moment his eyes lingered on you too, every second he realized he didn’t dislike you at all - it’s all there for you to see. His soul laid bare.

“She’s ready!” Your smile is like the sun. “Light her up!”

Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder.

Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.

You wait, but the kaiju doesn’t rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes.

Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. “Does that count as one or two kills? I’m so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.”

Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring it’s not broken, but you can still feel him like he’s attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but there’s also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry.

“So she’ll be okay?” he clarifies again, looking at the doctor with a hard stare. The man tending to your arm looks nervous under the sharp gaze of a jaeger pilot. “You’re sure it’s not broken? It better not be broken.”

“Jihoon,” you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising.”

“Just some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.”

“It did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.”

He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think.

Thankfully, the arm isn’t damaged. You’d bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise you’re unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctor’s advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.

Back in your room, Jihoon sits you on his bottom bunk to examine the arm himself, holding you carefully as though he can break you at any moment. You let him have this, watching as his eyebrows crease and mouth twists while he rotates your arm delicately.

He has pretty hands. You’ve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine.

“You should ask for a reassignment.” Jihoon’s words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. “I nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“It happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isn’t always perfect.”

“Well I am. And today I wasn’t. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People don’t last with me, it’ll be no risk to you.”

“I’m not requesting a new pilot. You’re who I want to drift with.”

He starts to pace. “Why? I’m obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.”

Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He won’t look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didn’t want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot.

“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s hard to tell with you, you know?”

His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.”

Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry.

You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.

Kissing Jihoon is like standing in the eye of a storm. He’s brutal and calm, sharp and soft. His heart beats against yours, his chest heaving when he pulls away from your mouth to press wet kisses to the shape of your jaw and down your throat.

One of Jihoon’s hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat.

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll fucking crumble.”

“So crumble.”

“Fuck.”

Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each other’s mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. It’s messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you.

Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs.

Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head.

He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.

“Just take it off,” you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.

“Mmmf - difficult.”

This is not the composed Jihoon you’re used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him you’ve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.

Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest.

“Sensitive?” you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. “Yeah, you are.”

Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. “Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on,” he urges. “You know you want to.”

So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoon’s smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there.

“Having a hard time?”

“Jihoon.”

One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue.

“Jihoon.”

He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently.

Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and you’re desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest.

“More,” you whisper. “God, please more.”

He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but it’s as far as you get before he’s lavishing attention to your tits again.

“Try now,” he pants.

His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You don’t care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking.

You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug.

A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but it’s not quite enough.

He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear.

“So god damn wet,” he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. “So pretty for me.”

His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. He’s already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real.

The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesn’t give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace.

When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically.

You’re greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.

Jihoon knows it’s coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm.

He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. “Come on,” his voice is husky and gentle. “Let go for me.”

It’s his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or keep him there.

Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.

Your voice comes out rough from use. “Want you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy.

“What?” he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.

“You’re so hot,” you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. “Don’t stop.”

“You like when I touch myself in front of you?” You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. “I’ll give you a show later. If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.”

“Oh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?” You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. “Didn’t think so.” He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess he’s made. “Can’t believe I made myself wait for this.”

“How stupid of you.”

Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in.

His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until he’s fully sheathed to the hilt.

Jihoon’s breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight.

“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.”

Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.”

Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision you’ve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you.

His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.

“Holy shit, like that.” You’re a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah?” he asks, almost taunting. “Gonna come like this?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until you’re coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but you’re too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless.

Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong.

His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy.

“Oh shit,” you wheeze.

He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it.

“I love when you pull my hair,” he admits, panting as he takes a breath.

His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like you’re coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like it’s second nature to him.

“I’m gonna come again.” It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. “Shit.”

“So come again.”

You do. It’s not as hard as the first one but it’s just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips.

Jihoon doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard.

He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.

With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You don’t even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.

Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?”

“Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I hope so. I want to be.”

With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than you’ve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.

“So I’m kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?”

He groans. “Don’t start.”

“What? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.”

“Come on, we’re showering.”

“No way, I am not moving right now.”

“You are not sleeping covered in cum.”

“Ji,” you whine.

He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. “Come on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.”

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

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#woozi smut #woozi fic #woozi svt smut #woozi svt fic #lee jihoon smut #lee jihoon fic #woozi x reader #woozi x you #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon x you #svt smut #woozi angst #lee jihoon angst

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tnypuppy · 3 months ago

Text

toji fushiguro likes putting his fingers to work !

feat. toji fushiguro

synopsis: toji just wants to finger you.

cw: fem!reader, vaginal fingering, clit stimulation, g-spot stimulation, mentioning of cervix touching, orgasm (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving and m hinted), degrading, begging, toji calls you a doll and princess, cum eating, pre-cum, crying. MDNI + ageless blogs DNI!

word count: 1,154 words.

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toji loves to get you on your back and nestle between your plump thighs. he's on his stomach with a veiny forearm supporting the weight of his torso as he holds himself up on an elbow against the surface of your bed — spreading your puffy pussy lips while his other hand has a middle and ring finger stuffed up your eager pussy. he's obsessed with how your pink ring of muscle squeezes and clenches around his two thick digits, every squeeze causing slick to drool onto his fingers. you're sobbing out pretty gasps and whimpers whenever you feel his meaty thumb ghost over your swollen clit; threatening to press down and make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"my doll gets so wet from my fingers, heh." he teases and your hips buck when your sensitive pussy feels his hot breath fan over it. you're so needy for an orgasm that any slight movement makes your body twitch for more.

"to- hah.. tojiiii-" you gasp and mewl, eyes half lidded and dazed as you look down to the brute who's inches from your steaming cunt. "touch m' clit.. please?" the way you beg him is infatuating, he loves making you desperate for more.

he clicks his tongue while roughly delving his two fingers deeper — a cry leaving your lips as you feel the tips of his two digits poking against your cervix. "i 'unno.." his response is gruff as he pulls his fingers back so they're an inch into your cunt. "m' fingers are pretty dirty from your sloppy cunt, is that really not enough?" he feels a sense of pride when you can't help but moan from his degrading words, almost making you feel embarrassed for wanting more.

right when you think the stimulation couldn't be any more overwhelming, you throw your head back when his fingers curl. he prods your spongy and gooey spot with his fingers and your cunt wildly spasms on his fingers in response, squeezing tighter around him. your hips move on their own and you're babbling as his fingers continue tapping into your honey pot. tap tap tap you pathetically hiccup a "baby, please." and your hips buck to press your cunt to his knuckles, hhnh.. his fingers are hooking deep into your sweet spot when you buck your hips.

the scarred corner of his lip quirks up into a smirk and your eyes are nearly rolling back as his thumb hovers over your clit again, "what is it, doll?" his deep voice is fuzzy to your ears. you continue to squeeze around his fingers, each squeeze only causing more slick to roll out and dirty his fingers up further.

" 'm wanna cum so bad, toji! please, please?" you're so ridiculously close to cumming that tears are welling up in your ears, you want it so bad! :( all you need is a little stimulation on your twitchy clit and you'll be dirtying up his fingers even more with your slick and sticky cum.

" 're you seriously cryin' from how bad y' wanna cum?" he chortles and he's leaning so close to your folds now, huffing hot puffs of air onto your saturated slit.

you nod in desperation, another plea begins to escape your lips but is interrupted by a cute and sobbing shriek leaving your lips as toji finally caves in — but you don't get his meaty thumb rubbing fast circles into your little sensitive bud. no — instead, you get his hot and slippery tongue massaging its taste buds into your clit.

"toji!" you're cutely choking out his name as the surprise makes your hips stutter. your small hands scramble to bury fingers into his black hair and pull.

more tears threaten to fall from the way toji's rolls your clit with his wet muscle. your clit feels so hot that you wonder if it's gonna melt and you're chanting toji's name as the tip of his tongue rubs tight circles against your bud, sweetly pushing you closer to your orgasm. the build-up feels so good that you want it to last forever, he's so talented at eating your pretty cunt and the way he fucks you with his thick fingers always has you reeling. his tongue rubs a few more circles into your clit, and with a perfectly timed prod against your g-spot — toji sends you flying over the edge and into the silky hot bliss of your orgasm. his cheeks are warm as he listens to you lose yourself, a mixture of dirty moans and gasps for air filling his ears. shit. his doll sounds so pretty and fucked out; and all she had was his thick tongue on her clit and his thicker fingers in her drooly cunt!

your trembling thighs attempt to snap shut but toji's in the way, your trembling thighs now being make-shift earmuffs for him. your hips wildly buck and grind to the point where you're practically riding his face — precious fingers continuing to yank at his hair. toji's tongue feels so good that each flick and rub is a hot burst of warmth that spreads from your pretty clit to your lower tummy — and the way his fingers continue to work into your gooey and squishy patch has your walls radiating a warmth that only toji can make happen.

toji falters when he attempts to suckle at your overstimulated button and hears a small and strained "oooh" from you. he's pulling his slick covered lips away from your slippery cunt and slowly pulling his fingers out — enjoying how your velvety walls still clench and squeeze him, pushing through the remnants of your orgasm. his two fingers are absolutely drenched when they're finally pulled from your hole — a naughty string of your cum is still clinging on. you whimper in embarrassment at the sight, but toji has no problem — he hurriedly dives in to catch it on his tongue before it snaps in two, wanting to relish in the taste of his gorgeous doll's cunt a lil' more. his lips wrap around his fingers and roughly suck off the slick. you always taste so good, but you taste especially better when your cum and arousal is mixed together and leaking out.

he's letting out a cocky chuckle as he hears you mumble a polite "thank you". he allows you to take your sweet time to recoup, taking the free time to move out from between your shaky legs. you collect your breath as you feel his weight shifting on the bed, he's making his way from the side of your legs to where your head lays. dazed eyes watch as he roughly yanks his sweats and boxers down to his mid thigh — his meaty cock bobbing before it hangs steadily right above your face, rigid head already threatening to plop a drop of pre-cum onto your parted lips.

"alright princess, i think it's time i get my fill."

#toji smut #toji drabble #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader smut #jjk drabble #jjk smut

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navybrat817 · 10 months ago

Text

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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