#almost frustratingly so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rockingbytheseaside · 4 months ago

Text

✦ When someone tries to imitate you or take your place

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone

(tw: general mentions of violence and intimacy, swf. Old ask suggested by the lovely @pandaquick, better late than never)

Your position in the Fatui is a much more personal and delicate matter. You are not just some high-rank advisor or soldier idling within the Zapolyarny Palace, nor can you be defined as another Fatuus. You are someone of a different echelon - a Harbinger’s beloved, safeguarded with the utmost honor conferred by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It is no secret your significant other would utilize a whole army to protect you, but what happens when someone, in their foolishness, forgets that?

✧ Pierro was the first to notice that someone tried to imitate you. An individual of high status endeavored to emulate your work and areas of expertise. Subsequently, this individual began to adopt aspects of your appearance, from hairstyle to clothing. However, the breaking point occurred when this foolish person attempted to purchase an identical jewelry brooch to the one you frequently wore. It was a similar piece, one gifted to you by Pierro.

Except that imitator missed one important clue - Pierro orders you custom-made silver adorned with deep-cut sapphires that would put the Tsaritsa’s crown into shame. A one of a kind piece.

This cheap attempt to imitate you and usurp your spot was what forced The Jester to abandon his silent observation. His gaze has long caught the envious glances directed towards you whenever you accompanied him on meetings, whenever he linked his arm with yours, whenever he generously kneeled beside you to put his coat over your shoulder and keep you warm from Snezhnaya’s cold - the same individual, always seething with resentment. Thus, it was time for the Director to silently act.

He kept tabs on this person via a network of spies, gathering intel on their behavior and intentions. And with the most skilled spies raised from the House of the Hearth, it didn't take long to have a whole pile of evidence right on his desk. And with the simple snap of his fingers, he effortlessly orchestrated the apprehension and subsequent banishment of the culprit, sparing no unnecessary words. Hearsay will not be tolerated in the Fatui, but to see some lowly scum tarnish your reputation by cheap mimicry then it’ll be his responsibility to weed out.

“Pierro, dearest, What's wrong? You seem so deep in thought.” - Your gentle murmur broke The Jester's train of thought. As he lay in bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm draped over you, he reminded himself that he was in the comfort of your love. He doesn't have to mull over the bloodied ordinances when he feels the warmth of your skin underneath the covers.

“Apologies, my divine. It seems my mind was drifting to troubling thoughts. But it no longer matters when you're here.” - Thus, he gently planted a kiss on your forehead and tucked the covers around your body which harbored marks of his devotion earlier that night.

✧ Il Capitano clutched the hilt of his sword in resolution. Something was wrong and he could see it. The Harbinger was in the middle of his morning spar with you, a regular training session where you and the Captain warm up as a routine. He stood in a defensive stance, his movements fluid yet measured as his sword received blow after blow from your weapon. You, on the other hand, moved like a silent tempest, your strikes precise yet frustratingly urgent.

It was unlike you to be so unsteady, noted Capitano to himself, especially when fighting. Despite the unspoken patience, an undercurrent of concealed despondency and anger laced your body language.

“Alright, my dear, I can feel your unease. What troubles your heart?”

You shook your head, panting as you almost faltered. You insisted on continuing the training session, but it was clear your brave facade was almost crumbling.

“It would be foolish to continue. And I care about your well-being. Please, confide in me, my beloved.”

You tried, you really did. But before you know it, your lips pursed into a thin line and a flood of tears escaped the moment you shakily lowered your weapon. Now the Captain was on full alert, rushing towards you and gently supporting you before you could hide your tearful face in shame. With an arm around your trembling form and much persuasion - you relented and shared the source of your frustration. A newly enlisted soldier had undergone thorough training under the tutelage of Il Capitano, and their impressive advancement was unmistakably evident in their unwavering dedication. However, this individual began to devote more time to the Captain, delving into military intelligence and climbing the ranks. You genuinely felt joy for the new recruit, truly. Yet in timid humiliation, you had to confess you felt obsolete as if your power alone wasn’t enough for a harbinger of his caliber and ranks.

“Ah, my dear, you are far from weak. My time with the trainees is merely a duty, a part of my job as the 1st Harbinger. But when it comes to you, my dear, your might and wisdom are incomparable. You don’t deserve my ranks, you deserve my life laid before you.”

But whatever gentle words of affection were coming out of the Captain, your next words of truth made him halt at once. “... At least, that’s what the recruit told me when we spoke. That I'm weak.”

“...What did you say?”

The gentle armored hand on your shoulder now tightened in restrained anger, fury flaring within his chest. Capitano now understood: your tears, your sudden insecurity, your doubt, your silence… It wasn’t coincidental. This recruit who was so conveniently rising in the ranks made sure to aim not just for the Harbinger. Specifically, you; to sow self-doubt onto you and hinder your precious relationship. Someone was deliberately bullying you.

You looked up at Capitano’s dreadful silence, asking him what was wrong.

“It… seems, my dear, someone has crossed an unforgivable line. One that would cost them their life dearly. And I am to blame for not noticing when harm and doubt came your way. I must amend this transgression for your forgiveness.”

You blinked in response, not having time to comprehend the severity of his words; It’s hard to respond when your beloved suddenly kneels and bows like a knight on duty. In the end, Capitano ushered you to take a day off and let your mind rest easy.

The next day, Capitano returned home early but was eerily silent once more. He stayed with you the whole day, like a hawk overlooking his nest, his arms crossed but his touch gentle. Although he claimed nothing was wrong, you received news that certain recruits were gone, and any upcoming soldiers that would come into his care would receive even stricter training from now on. That day, you wondered why some Fatui soldiers feared talking to you. Not to mention the armor around Capitano’s knuckles seemed faintly red-tinted.

The Fatui organization was a constant battle of powers and ranks. But to climb the ladder and meddle with the life of The Captain was a personal offense, one that would result in quick and unapologetic bloodshed. Nevertheless, he made sure to remind his soldiers about that.

✧ When one of the folks working under Il Dottore as a lab analyst approached you, you didn’t expect them to call you names so suddenly. You stood there, confused and apprehensive at the sudden barrage of insults from the stranger. But they explained:

“You don’t do anything when helping during research, you know! I don’t even know how The 2nd tolerates you when you’re this useless. I’ll tell you what, quit your special-treatment act, and don’t come back to the lab. The Doctor is better off with someone of his level of intellect.”

You didn’t fight or defend yourself, you didn’t even insult the assistant. Instead, you smiled simply - “Very well, I won’t. Good luck.”

That day, you turned and left. The frustrated lab analyst was left in confusion but thought they succeeded in eliminating the only obstacle left to get closer to the elusive yet powerful Harbinger. After all, what the hell do you even do at his lab? You exchange a few words with Dottore, maybe sporadically point at what to do, and remain seated in the back, resting as if you were the Tsaritsa herself. The audacity. How come Il Dottore never kicked you out?

Well, it didn't take long for this person to find out.

The next day, naturally, Dottore couldn’t find you when he proceeded with work. You were neither at his study, nor at the lab, nor at your favorite corner of the library. It was barely noon, and receiving your warm greetings was his routine. And the Doctor always follows the agenda.

“Where are they?”

His question was brief but pointed, and his subordinates knew exactly who he was referring to. They could sense the tension in his voice. The only individual privy to the reason for your absence smirked smugly and responded.

“Hmph. It seems they decided not to come, Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

That was their first mistake because The Doctor caught on to the haughty smirk coming from his new analyst.

“And you know so certainly how?” - he quickly gestured to a nearby Fatui servant with a flick of his wrist. “Send in servants to check in on my behalf. I wasn’t informed. If my darling is feeling tired or unwell, bring their preferred refreshment immediately, and ensure it is warm.”

However, this displeased the new lab assistant, as even while you were away, Dottore was still dotting on you as if it was his second nature to do so while he was busy with work. Thus, they cleared their throat and spoke up:

“They… barely accomplished anything in your presence, doctor. So I advised them to leave, to which they agreed. Pretty straightforward, s-sir.”

“Oh? Did you, now” - A burning rage, like never before, flared up within Il Dottore. With clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, his voice oozed with venom. But any seasoned lackey working under Dottore knew that this was the calm before the storm. Because soon, an echo of shattering vials and slammed objects would ring out from the laboratory. And in your absence, nothing would prevent the doctor from showing a bit of despotism.

Much later that evening, after everything was set and done, the servants informed him of your whereabouts. Il Dottore briskly made his way through the Zapolyarny Palace to find you. Spotting you tucked away in a secluded nook of the palace, he hastened over, anxious to ensure your well-being, fearing you might’ve withdrawn due to the influence of some blabbering lowlife.

“Dear! There you are… No one has the right to speak to you like that ever. Are you alright? My dearest, why did you not tell me immediately?! I would’ve-”

Dottore’s frustrated rambles come to a halt when you place a finger on his lips to shush him. You didn’t look despaired, in fact, you looked calm - “Zandik? Did you have another tantrum in your lab while I was absent?”

The doctor gulped, remembering his place. Calming his senses, he placed his hands on your waist and ushered you closer to his arms.

“... Perhaps. But I had to. How could I be certain that no one had harmed you? Why did you comply with that impudent fool? You should’ve gone to me first.”

“Well, it was unpleasant to hear the insults, sure. But…" - you glanced apologetically and a knowing smile returned to your lips. "I knew you'd find out and deal with the issue very quickly."

✧ You and Pantalone were an odd couple. You didn't hail from a rich background, nor were you well-versed in the art of business and finance. You were more proficient in adventuring, your travels taking you to all sorts of journeys and commissions, a polar opposite from your beloved Pantalone. This led to raised eyebrows among the aristocrats of Snezhnaya. How can the richest man of Teyvat, who lives and works in prestige, be associated with such a simple person as you? For some, this gave the impression that they had a better chance of winning him over.

Thus, once upon a night, Pantalone was invited to a luxurious soirée. Here he was, clad in his finest suit, silver rings complementing his equally expensive optics. But to the Regrator, the jewelry adorning him was the least of his concerns - because you were the most precious gem in this gala. You accompanied him, although reluctantly, feeling out of place amidst the grand assembly of extravagant guests and the languid orchestra.

“Pantalone, do we have to…? I know you said this is not a business party, but there are so many guests already lining up to talk to you.”

“Oh do not fret, my sweet. Evening galas like these are where the real negotiation and connections entail. But I know the details bore you, so I promise we won't stick here for too long. Besides, I get to introduce you as my one and only!”

That's exactly what you were afraid of. As a company of some esteemed noble ladies adorning elegant gowns, you had difficulties matching Pantalone’s polite smile. Overwhelmed by the scrutinizing gazes of some guests, you politely excused yourself to the bathroom. Pantalone was concerned, thinking of following you, but that was exactly what the guests wanted.

You spent a long while by the hallway alone, trying to stabilize your breathing. The muttering of guests enjoying drinks and strolling was faint, but you could hear some people nearby:

“How can the 9th be with someone like them…? Surely it’s a joke.”

“A charming, rich man like him, and he can have anyone he desires. Yet he wastes his time on a simpleton?”

“Someone was definitely in it for the Mora, maybe he hasn’t seen real class. Quick, let’s go talk to him while he is alone.”

You stood with your back to a wall, and for the first time, uncertainty crept in. With fists clenched by your side, you reprimanded yourself that you are not alone. You came here with your significant other - and he, above all else, knows that gossip has no place in your shared private life. Hence, gathering up your courage, you raise your head high and strode back into the gala.

Pantalone, unfortunately yet expectedly, was surrounded by the same foul-mouthed nobles who wished to impress him. They prattled on about his financial success, while ladies fanned their folding fans and stood too close for his comfort. While they humored him, The Regrator cast hurried glances around the gala in search of you. Where are you?

“Lord Harbinger, may we offer you more champagne? I am sure this expensive bottle is up to your taste.”

The 9th attempted to hide his frown at the woman's tone, his stomach unwilling to ingest any drink some excessively elaborate name. “No thank you, I’d rather decline. I am waiting for my dear. I promised her a dance later this evening.”

“Oh, please sir, I insist. The night is young and there is plenty more for-”

Before the woman could continue, your voice cut through the air; calm, yet unmistakably firm. “He said no. Simple enough to understand.”

A hush fell over the gathered guests, the weight of your words settling like a sudden gust. Only Pantalone beamed with a genuine smile. “Ah, dear! There you are,”. The Harbinger was about to step back towards you, when the same lady suddenly blocked his path, her back facing him while her tone edged with defiance.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid the question is directed towards Lord Harbinger Pantalone. I am sure you wouldn't know the pleasure of tasting a 500,000 Mora champagne from Fontaine.”

You recognized the snark in her tone directed towards you, and you couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting in your gut as eyes narrowed in your direction. However, with a shake of your head, you reminded yourself who you truly are and simply said: “Sheesh, lady, you spend that much on a drink that tastes worse than sparkling water? To each their own, I presume”

Her smile vanished. The guests stared in stunned silence, but it was Pantalone’s genuine laughter that pierced the tension. The sound was rich and real—because only he knew how adept you were at humbling an overconfident aristocrat with a dose of blunt truth. That’s how Pantalone managed to push through the crowd and circle his arm back around your waist, leaving the astonished onlookers behind.

“Ah dear, you’re a savior. I apologize I dragged us into this unpleasant company…” - he confined to you apologetically as you two walked away. “You always knew how to be sincere in your honest way.”

“It’s not like I meant to pick up a fight…" - you sighed. "I simply couldn't bear the humiliation, Pantalone. I'm aware that some people give me strange looks when I'm with you. They regard me as if I'm some peasant standing next to a powerful Fatui harbinger. That I'm nothing. That's why I couldn’t just hide, I had to step up to defend myself.”

“Oh, darling… My sweet, precious darling.” - The two of you left the manor that hosted the soiree, the chill night breeze muting the faint sound of guests and replacing it with a symphony of cricket noise from the garden nearby. Pantalone's fingers intertwined with yours.

"You are not just 'nothing' - you're my everything. You did not come from riches, and neither did I. You of all people know that. Would I really hold respect for some rich fool who didn't know an ounce of hardship when Mora was all they had since birth? No, dear, I wouldn't."

With a tender hand, he rested his palm on your waist, gently guiding you along the cobblestone path as if leading you into a slow waltz by garden roses in the night.

"Besides, you should never be ashamed to seek out my help. Although I must admit... Your tone earlier - oh my. Use it on me more often, darling. I wouldn't mind."

5K notes · View notes

extinctlesspains · 25 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐫: 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞-𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 ✧･

»»——⍟——««

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞-𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞-𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬.

　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The rules of the games were clear: trust no one, form alliances only if necessary, and never show weakness. Sae-Byeok lived by those principles, but there was one complication she hadn’t accounted for—you.

From the moment she noticed you, something shifted. It wasn’t love at first sight or some fairytale nonsense, but a quiet realization that she found you… distracting. You had a way of carrying yourself, a confidence and calm that stood out in the chaos of the game.

And it wasn’t just your demeanor. You were beautiful, in a way that tugged at her focus. She hated it.

But even more frustrating? You knew. Every time she tried to get close, you seemed to read her like an open book. And instead of playing along, you made her work for it.

It started during one of the few quiet moments in the dormitory. Most of the players were either asleep or murmuring in hushed tones, strategizing or trying to make sense of their situation. Sae-Byeok saw you sitting against the wall, your arms draped lazily over your knees as you stared at the floor.

She didn’t think twice before sitting down beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. You didn’t acknowledge her at first, but she wasn’t deterred.

“You’ve been keeping to yourself,” she said, her voice low.

You turned your head slightly, offering her a faint smile. “Not much worth saying.”

Her lips twitched in a smirk. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Plan for what?”

“For staying alive,” she said bluntly.

You shrugged, your eyes glinting with amusement. “Maybe I’m just waiting for someone to impress me enough to team up.”

It was a challenge, and she knew it. She leaned in just slightly, her voice dipping into a playful, almost seductive tone. “You don’t seem easy to impress.”

“I’m not,” you replied smoothly, meeting her gaze.

Sae-Byeok’s smirk widened. She liked a challenge.

Over the next few games, Sae-Byeok’s interest in you only grew. She’d catch herself glancing your way during tense moments, like the tug-of-war game where you held your ground with surprising strength.

Between games, she made more attempts to talk to you, to draw you out of your shell. She wasn’t subtle about her attraction, either—leaning closer than necessary, finding excuses to brush against you, her compliments laced with an undeniable flirtation.

But you remained frustratingly nonchalant.

One night, as the dorm quieted, she sat beside you again, her tone casual but her intentions clear. “You know, I don’t trust anyone here.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. “Not even me?”

“Especially not you,” she replied, a hint of teasing in her voice.

You chuckled softly, and she found herself staring at the curve of your lips. “Smart move,” you said. “I could be dangerous.”

“You don’t scare me,” Sae-Byeok shot back, leaning closer. Her voice softened, growing almost intimate. “In fact, I think you like the attention.”

You met her gaze, holding it for a long moment before shrugging. “Maybe. But you’re going to have to try harder.”

The opportunity to push things further came late one night. After the lights went out, you slipped away to the bathroom for a moment of solitude. Sae-Byeok noticed and followed, her steps quiet as she slipped inside behind you.

You turned, startled. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re not sneaking off to do something stupid,” she said, though her tone lacked any real conviction.

“Right,” you said, crossing your arms. “And this has nothing to do with you wanting to corner me alone?”

She smirked, leaning against the wall. “Maybe it does.”

Her boldness caught you off guard, but you didn’t back down. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. Her eyes traced over your face, lingering on your lips. “I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, your voice softening despite yourself.

“You,” she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But you already knew that.”

The tension in the room was almost suffocating. Sae-Byeok was close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from her body. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm.

For a moment, you considered pushing her away, keeping up the game. But the way she looked at you—intense, vulnerable, and so full of want—made you falter.

“Sae-Byeok,” you murmured, and before you could overthink it, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to hers.

She responded instantly, her hands gripping your waist as if afraid you’d change your mind. The kiss was slow at first, a testing of boundaries, but it quickly deepened, all the tension from the past few days spilling over.

When you finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

“You win,” you whispered, and she let out a soft laugh, her lips brushing yours again.

“I always do,” she teased, her voice full of satisfaction.

#kang Sae-Byeok #Kang Sae-Byeok x reader #Squid games #squid game #squid games x reader #067 #kang sae byeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #sae byeok #wlw #squid game x reader

1K notes · View notes

sturnlsstuff · 3 months ago

Text

CHRIS IS OBSESSED WITH HIS BROTHER's GIRL. [smut, masturbation, mdni]

chris knew how wrong this was.

the guilt and feeling of betrayal building up in his chest, but he couldn't help himself, not when it came to you. matt's girl. it wasn't like you and his brother were together, you weren't his girlfriend, you two were only hooking up, but you still belonged to matt. he had some interest in you, maybe even liked you, a lot. so chris was fully aware how fucked up the situation he found himself in was. he just wished his room was the one you go to every time you come over, not matt's. it all was making him frustrated.

especially now at one in the morning when he was trying to sleep and not listen to the sounds coming from the other room, but it was fucking hard not to hear. even nick texted the group chat telling you and matt to shut the fuck up, but it didn't help much. actually neither you or matt cared at that moment.

the constant sounds of bed cracking, skin slapping against each other, the headboard hitting the wall and more specifically something that chris focused on the most. your moans.

the thing was, chris had no clue that you caught up on the stares he'd give you anytime you come over, how he would hungrily look at your body, especially when you were wearing these mini skirts of yours. so maybe you were really loud on purpose right now, wanting him to hear. just maybe.

so he really tried to actually fall asleep, but it was just impossible and his imagination got carried away. in his head he was the one making you sound like this, moaning his name while he was fucking you from behind on his bed.

he didn't even realize how painfully hard he was and when he would slid his pajama pants down his hips, freeing his already leaking with precum dick. he also didn't necessarily know at what point his hand started moving up and down his length. was it when he heard you moaned "harder" or maybe the strangled sound of your crying from pleasure?

chris was so desperately turned on, squeezing his eyes shut while he was thrusting into his fist, his thumb occasionally brushing against his sensitive tip, making him groan quietly. the sounds you were making, it all made him going feral, "--oh shit, y/n..." he hisses speeding up his movements and his head throws back at the sensation. he'd imagine you being here with him. on top of him, jerking him off. how you would use your thumb to smear his precum all over his slit and head of his cock, how your small hand would look working on him. maybe you'd even use your mouth to suck on his tip. then taking him deeper and he'd see how hard you try to fight the gag reflex, saliva dripping down your chin as you take him all in, looking up at him with those puppy eyes of yours. he could physically feel his tip hitting the back of your throat until you pull out to catch your breath, your spit connecting his cock and your lips and your hand working on him again.

his own thoughts made him groan a bit louder, accompanying your own muffled moans still coming from matt's room. "fuckkk—" he whimpers, squeezing his hard member a bit, causing his hips to jerk upwards. chris tried to be quiet, his jaw was slacked as he started to feel his orgasm building up, all the images he had in his mind right now sent him right over the edge, his body tensing up while he frustratingly was moving his hand faster on his cock. his other hand gripping the sheets, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. "oh shit, yes-- please... fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk—" he almost whined as he heard your final moan, assuming you just reached your climax and the thought of him finishing at the same moment as you made his body heat even higher and with another groan, warm drops of cum bursts from his tip all over his hand, thighs and lower stomach as he moans out your name once again.

the realization of what just happened, what he did, started hitting him only a few seconds after he opened his eyes, seeing the mess he'd make and tried to calm himself down. he really felt fucking bad about this, but at the same time it was one of the most intense orgasms he's ever had while jerking off. and all it took was to hear your pretty sounds and a little bit of imagination.

chris would actually kill to make it happen in reality and feel your skin against his at least for one time.

@xaristhings @certifiedstarrr @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @chrislovespepsi @r0s3luvr @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo blurb

1K notes · View notes

sugoroo · 4 months ago

Text

GOOD COP, BAD COP!

ʚɞ summary: you get arrested and are determined not to reveal a single piece of information about your associates. that is, until the two officers interrogating you start employing... unique tactics to get you to talk.

warnings: fem!reader x choso kamo & toji fushiguro, police officer!au, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, praise kink, voyeurism, leg humping, power play, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.0k

it was a simple job — or atleast, it was supposed to be.

it began with the same simple plan as any other low stakes bank heist.

get in, get the money, get out.

but unfortunately, this time, someone in your little group decided to snitch - alerting the authorities of the exact location and time of the job before it even began.

so while you were in the middle of stuffing wad after wad of cash into a duffle bag, the last thing you were expecting was for a bunch of police officers to come barging into the bank, guns raised and badges being waved.

well shit.

silently cursing whichever person from your group that informed them, you made a break for it, darting towards the back entrance with the duffle bag clumsily slung across your shoulder.

but you didn't make it far.

the rest of your group managed to escape the bank in time, piling into the awaiting getaway car, but of course, you had to get stopped by a large hand wrapping around your wrist. you desperately tried to tug it free, but their grip was firm; almost frighteningly so.

"shit. guys, wait for—!" you attempted to yell, but the sound of the engine revving as the car dashed away interrupted the sentence, almost as if it was mocking you.

"looks like your little friends left you behind, doll." a low voice you assume belongs to the hand around your wrist rumbles from behind you, the amusement in his tone clearly at your expense.

"fuck you." you spit out, still stubbornly trying to tug your arm from his iron grip even though it's abundantly clear that it's a fruitless endeavour.

"ah ah," the voice chides, yanking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket with his other hand and effortlessly clicking them in place over your wrist, then doing the same with the other, despite your relentless struggling. "an attitude like that won't get you anywhere now."

with your movements now severely restricted by the harsh metal of the cuffs, you have no choice but to comply as the police officer manhandles you, roughly spinning you around until you come face to face with him.

unsurprisingly, the man's cocky expression fits his voice. his lips, which have a noticeable scar running down the side, are pulled up into a smug smirk as he looks down at you, and some messy strands of black hair are falling into his eyes.

"got nothin' else to say?" he snorts, his smirk only widening when he notices the way your features contort into a scowl — clearly fighting the urge to snap back at him again. "yeah, that's what i thought."

it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to list off every single curse word you know as the officer practically drags you through the bank, carelessly shoving you into the back of his squad car.

so much for a simple job.

so that's how you manage to find yourself slumped against an uncomfortable plastic chair in an interrogation room at the local police station, handcuffed to a desk.

it feels like it's been hours since the arrest, but there's no way of telling how much time has actually passed in this frustratingly empty room since there isn't even a clock to decorate the plain white walls.

when you'd first been left in here, you'd been angry.

angry at whichever member of your group decided to snitch on the operation, angry at your accomplices for leaving you there in the bank (although you probably would've done the same if the roles were reversed) and angry at the irritatingly smug officer who arrested you.

but eventually, that anger started to slowly but surely fade away —instead replaced by an overwhelmingly painful sense of boredom as you sat here with nothing to do.

you resorted to counting the tiles on the ceiling above you in a last ditch attempt at keeping yourself atleast somewhat amused. what number were you up to again? oh, right. eighty two... eighty three—

"hey, hey! s-sorry i'm so late." a voice hurriedly announces as the person it belongs to clumsily stumbles into the room, rambling about something to do with a coffee machine malfunction as he slides into the seat opposite yours.

slowly casting your eyes down from the ceiling to take in the police officer now sat in front of you, you're relieved to realize that it's not the same one from earlier. no - the difference between them is almost comical.

this one has dark tresses of hair pulled up into two messy pigtails, a small tattoo inked across the bridge of his nose, and his pale hands are shaking on the table where they rest. he seems nervous — almost as if he's the one about to be interrogated and not you.

"u-uh, yeah, as i was saying..." the man continues after a few moments of squirming under your gaze, pushing a mug across the table. "i thought i'd get you some coffee to help you feel more at ease. but the settings on that pesky machine are so complicated! i-i'm new here, by the way."

"i gathered." you murmur with a small, bemused smile pulling at your lips in spite of the situation you find yourself in. you then glance down at the mug, raising an eyebrow — it's not like you can pick it up and bring it to your mouth with your hands cuffed to the desk.

"o-oh, shit. i didn't think of that," the officer curses under his breath, grasping the mug in two trembling hands and thrusting it towards you. the movement jostles the liquid slightly, causing some of it to drip onto the table. "here."

you lean forward to reach the outstretched mug, taking a small sip of the warm liquid and resisting the urge to wince at the overwhelmingly bitter taste; this guy really wasn't joking about not being able to use he coffee machine properly.

"thanks." you push out with a somewhat strained smile, not wanting to appear ungrateful for the kind gesture. he nods quickly, seemingly pleased by your manners, placing the mug back down on the desk and pulling some files from his bag.

"so..." he begins, fanning the various folders across the desk and squinting down at them, as if trying to make sense of what's in front of him. "oh, wait! i forgot to introduce myself. i'm officer kamo — but you can call me choso, i-if you want, that is."

"right. well, it's nice to meet you, choso." you respond carefully, silently observing the way the apples of his cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink at the sound of his name leaving your lips. interesting.

"y-you too, um..." choso stammers awkwardly, glancing down and reading your name aloud from one of the files. "so, it says here you were the only suspect apprehended from the group who attempted to rob a local bank earlier today. is that correct?"

"it is." you mutter, pushing at the bed of one of your nails as some of the anger from earlier surfaces again. why did it have to be you who got caught? you should be at home rolling around in a heap of cash right about now, not sitting in a sterile interrogation room answering questions.

"i see," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck in a clear sign of discomfort as he takes note of the sudden defensiveness in your demeanour. "well, um, i was just wondering— i mean, i have to ask you... is there any information you can give us regarding your accomplices?"

your head snaps up at this, a flicker of uncertainty alighting in your chest. obviously, you were anticipating this question - but hearing it said out loud is an entirely different feeling.

the small part of you that still burns with anger wants to spill everything, get your fellow group members roped into the same predicament as you as payback for them abandoning you at the bank. but the other, more rational part of you, knows that nothing good can come of snitching on them. it would only serve to get you in even more trouble; just not with the law.

"no. i'm sorry, but i don't have anything to tell you." you lie through your teeth, toying with the edge of the metal handcuffs where they're digging into your wrist.

"a-are you sure about that?" choso prompts, seeming slightly unconvinced. he's trying to catch your eye, tilting his head towards you. "names, addresses, vehicle numberplates... anything?"

you subtly clench your jaw, shaking your head from side to side. as strong as the urge is to supply him with the information he wants, deep down you know it would only make things worse for you in the long run.

choso huffs out a small breath of air, fidgeting in his seat as he tries to remember his interrogation training. he may be new to this — but he's not oblivious. he can tell you're not being truthful, and although he understands the reasons behind that, he needs this intel if he wants to hand over a satisfactory report to his boss at the end of the day.

"if you're worried about the consequences of confessing, we can always put you into witness protection." he tries, his voice soft and earnest. it's clear he's not putting on an act, he does mean what he says. but that does nothing to change your mind.

"i don't have anything to tell you." you repeat without hesitation, your blank expression betraying nothing of your inner turmoil. you have to keep silently reminding yourself — it's not worth the risk to snitch.

"alright." choso sighs in response, wringing his hands atop the table as he seemingly tries to think of another approach to get you to talk. he has a feeling none of the other methods from his basic training are going to work with you. "um... how about i offer you something in return for your cooperation?"

"like what?" you mutter cautiously, fully intending on rejecting whatever it is he has to suggest.

"well, let's see," he hums thoughtfully, glancing back down at the files before returning his gaze to you. "how about a shorter sentence? i think we can do that."

this makes you pause — if only for a moment. a shorter sentence does sound tempting, but you can't let the idea weaken your resolve. after all, once you got out, there would be hell to pay for snitching. "less jail time isn't going to change the fact that i don't have anything to tell you."

choso's shoulders visibly sag with disappointment at your continued refusal to give up any information; he really thought that suggestion would have swayed you. "o-okay. so how about something else then?"

now that catches your curiosity.

because what else could he possibly offer you aside from a reduced sentence? that was usually the absolute best bargaining chip police officers were allowed to utilize in interrogations — you'd seen enough tv shows to know that.

he perks up when he notices the subtle signs of increased interest in your demeanour, leaning forward in his seat with clear eagerness. "okay! you're curious, that's good. s-so... what i'm suggesting is... um..."

you raise an eyebrow at his sudden hesitation, noting the way his eyes dart away from yours and his already pinkened cheeks flush further. "what you're suggesting is...?" you prompt.

"that... um... i—" choso tries again, anxiously digging his nails into his palm. he can't believe he's actually going to say something like this out loud, but he needs to get this information if he wants to make good progress at his new job. "i s-service you."

what?

you have to hold back a choked sound somewhere between a snort and a gasp at his words, your eyebrows raising so high they almost disappear above your hairline.

hearing this timid-looking, blushing rookie police officer say something so... suggestive was definitely not the way you expected this interrogation to go.

it was like the start of some cheap porno.

"are you serious?" is all you can manage to mutter, leaning forward in your seat slightly to get a better look at his expression, searching for any signs that he's just playing with you; maybe trying to get you to lower your guard so that you're more likely to spill intel.

"...yes," comes choso's meek reply, his voice so soft and quiet it's hardly audible, despite the lack of any other sounds in the room. he looks like he's about to die of embarrassment, his flush spreading down his neck and disappearing below the neckline of his uniform.

"i don't see how that's supposed to get me to supply you with information that i don't have." you huff bluntly, keeping up the act as best you can; but you can't deny there's a small part of you that's curious as to what he would actually do if you were to agree to the proposition.

he finally meets your gaze again at this, the look in his eyes telling you point-blank that he knows you're holding back the truth from him. and he knows that you know he knows.

it's a stalemate.

"h-how about..." he mumbles after a long stretch of silence, rolling a dark strand of his hair between his fingers nervously. "how about i just try something? you don't have to agree to anything yet. i-i just want to try."

again, choso manages to capture your curiosity.

he's now basically offering to please you for nothing in return — although he's obviously hoping he'll be able to get some information out of you eventually, maybe during or after this 'service'.

you wish you could say you weren't tempted by his offer. but as a criminal, most of the people you associate with are disgusting lowlifes who you wouldn't even dream of letting in your bed.

needless to say, it's been a long while since another person brought you pleasure.

"so if, hypothetically, i was to say yes, i wouldn't have to actually agree to anything yet?" you repeat cautiously, your demeanour still guarded. you can't afford to let him get the upper hand here, no matter what happens.

"y-yes," choso nods in response, seeming slightly pleased by the fact you haven't outright rejected his suggestion or threatened to report him to one of his superiors. "hypothetically." he adds, for good measure.

another few moments of silence pass where you mentally weigh up your options. you come to the conclusion that it couldn't hurt to go along with his little proposition for now, as long as you make sure you keep your guard up throughout. right?

"okay." you hum, leaning back in your chair and observing the police officer before you. he seems to be trying to hold back his excitement at having won you over, but then you can see the exact moment it dawns on him what it is he's actually signed himself up for.

choso swallows thickly, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he stands up from his chair, legs visibly trembling in his dark uniform trousers as he awkwardly shuffles closer to your side of the desk.

you open your mouth to speak, but whatever you were about to say instantly leaves your mind when he sinks to his knees before you, effortlessly moving your chair to the side so that he's positioned directly between your legs.

"i know you said that you're new and all," you mutter with slight amusement as you watch him look up at you with those wide eyes from where he's knelt on the floor. "but i'm pretty sure most police officers don't do this for suspects."

"i-i know that," he huffs sheepishly in response, the tips of his ears reddening to match the shade of his face. "but i couldn't think of any other ways to get you to talk."

"who said i'm going to talk?" you murmur, enjoying the way his bottom lip juts out into a little involuntary pout in response to your words. "i didn't actually agree to say anything, remember?"

choso doesn't reply this time, seeming to have come to terms with the fact that he can't convince you with his words alone; this situation clearly requires him to use his actions.

the problem is, he's never actually performed said actions on a woman before. sure, he's watched his fair share of porn — but he knows that doesn't compare to the real thing.

he's just going to have to wing it.

he brings a shaky hand up to one of your legs, slowly trailing his fingers up the skin there. it's soft to the touch; much softer than he expected. he had this stereotypical notion imbedded in his head that a criminal's skin would be rough and hardened - but not yours, clearly.

choso can feel your eyes on him the entire time his digits travel up the length of your leg, can tell that you're curious about exactly what he's going to do as his so-called service to you.

he couldn't tell you even if you asked — he's just going to make it up as he goes along and hope he does atleast something right that might get you to spill some information while you're lost in the throes of pleasure.

eventually, his fingers reach the hem of your skirt, and he pauses for a moment to look up at you, as if asking for silent permission. you nod with a small jerk of your head, so he steels himself before continuing.

he lifts up the material of your skirt slightly, taking a quick peek underneath to see what he was to work with. and oh, he almost forgets that he's supposed to be the one holding the power in this situation when he catches a glimpse of your covered cunt.

your panties aren't anything special — since you obviously weren't expecting to end up in this position today. but choso couldn't care less, his closed mouth filling up with salvia as he stares at the small wet patch forming on the front of the fabric.

you can't help but huff out a small laugh, the sound halfway between bemusement and slight embarrassment as the police officer before you just kneels and stares between your legs, the silence in the room so thick you could hear a pin drop.

"trying to make me uncomfortable by staring isn't going to make me tell you anything, you know." you mutter with eyes narrowed in suspicion, causing his head to dart up in surprise.

"w-what? oh... um, sorry. i didn't mean to stare." he rasps hurriedly, forcibly shaking himself out of his daze. he knows you're right; he's not going to get anywhere by just kneeling here completely motionless like a statue.

he needs to get to work.

choso starts by brushing a gentle, barely-there kiss against your inner thigh, his lips soft as they press against your skin. it feels a little too intimate for what is supposed to be an interrogation tactic, but right now, he can't bring himself to care.

you feel a small shiver ripple down your spine as he leaves a trail of sweet kisses up to the apex of your thighs, his head disappearing underneath your skirt with just the tips of his dark pigtails peeking out.

this entire situation is so overwhelmingly surreal — just hours ago you were being arrested, and now you're in an interrogation room with a pretty rookie police officer inches away from making contact your clothed core.

what a strange turn of events.

your sink your teeth into your lower lip once you feel his breath fan across your panties, attempting to hide any sounds that threaten to escape. you have to make sure not to let on how much you're enjoying this - have to make sure you don't lower your guard and accidentally let any information spill.

choso presses a chaste kiss to your covered mound, and it's all you can do to hold back a little gasp at the action. he's just so sickeningly gentle with you; like he's handling his lover and not a criminal under arrest for robbing a bank.

a soft rumble, almost a groan, comes from under your skirt, the sound vibrating against your skin as it leaves his lips. you can't see his face, but if you could, you'd see how drunk he is on you already — just from the miniscule taste of you he's gotten through your panties.

"h-hah," he breathes quietly, mostly to himself, flicking his tongue out gently against the now-dampened fabric to get a better taste. "i never thought a criminal would taste so sweet."

fuck.

those simple words shoot straight down to your cunt, causing a small gush of arousal to trickle out into your underwear. you're sure he can feel it against his tongue, and you wince. it's going to be more difficult than anticipated to keep your composure if he's gonna keep saying things like that.

choso gasps slightly, the sound quickly morphing into a satisfied hum when your syrupy slick seeps through the fabric and onto his awaiting tongue. despite never having done this before, he's sure no one else could possibly hold a candle to how delicious you taste.

he's in trouble.

at this rate, he's going to be the one falling apart first instead of you; he can already feel himself growing hard in his slacks, pushing against the restricting material.

gently pulling your soiled panties to the side, he swipes his tongue through your glistening folds, gathering more of your juices on his tastebuds. he's not sure what else to do to please you, all he knows is that he wants more and more of that sweet sap.

choso is so lost in 'interrogating' you with his mouth, and you're so lost in trying not to forget about the consequences of snitching and just tell him everything you know, that neither of you notice when the door creaks open.

"well, well, well... i assign you to your first solo interrogation—" an irritatingly familiar voice grunts out, the sound of the door clicking shut sealing him in the room with you. "and where do i find you? with your tongue on the suspect's cunt, kamo."

it's him. the way-too-smug officer with the scar on his lip who arrested you back at the bank, who fastened the handcuffs so tight the harsh metal dug into the skin of your wrists. who simply laughed mockingly at your struggles to break free. him.

choso breaks free from between your legs so fast he probably gets whiplash, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he peeks out from under your skirt. he resembles a deer frozen in headlights.

"oho, don't go stoppin' on my account." the other officer chuckles deeply, sauntering closer and grasping one of choso's messy pigtails. he uses the grip to push him back under your skirt, forcibly pressing his face against your needy flesh.

choso whines, a pathetic, drawn out sound, feeling conflicted. he's unsure if he's supposed to stop or continue; unsure if his boss's words are meant as sarcasm or not. is this some sort of test from his superior? he doesn't want to risk losing his job, not when he worked so hard to get here.

"c-captain fushiguro... i'm sorry. but i-i don't understand." he mumbles shakily, his meek voice vibrating directly against your core.

"tch. thought i told you before to j's call me toji, didn't i?" the smug officer — toji, apparently— huffs in irritation, practically ignoring your presence entirely as he shoves choso's face right into your pulsing heat. "now get back to fuckin' work. that's an order, rookie."

unable to resist the authoritative tone of his voice, choso's tongue peeks back out from between his lips and swipes through your sopping folds again, his mind quickly going pleasantly blank a second time from your sweet saccharine taste.

toji's eyes then meet yours for the first time since he stepped into the interrogation room, seemingly seeing effortlessly past your careful blank expression. he smirks, in the same annoyingly smug way as he had when he arrested you.

he knows that while his subordinate may be trying his best, the small amount of stimulation from the inexperienced man isn't anywhere near enough to properly please you.

and if they want their stubborn little suspect to break, you need to be more than properly pleased.

"y'er not gonna get her to reveal any damn information like that, kid." toji grunts in a mix of amusement and annoyance, tugging choso back by his pigtail and causing him to whimper pathetically. "d'ya even know where her clit is?"

"c-clit?" he repeats timidly, glancing between your pretty pussy and his boss's unimpressed face, as if unsure which to give his full attention.

"yes, clit. jesus, what are they teachin' you youngsters these days?" toji mutters disapprovingly, snaking his free hand underneath your skirt to point directly at your puffy little bud without much trouble. "should be right... there."

you can't stop the sharp gasp that escapes your lips when he pushes down on your sensitive clit like a button, snapping your head to the side to send a sharp glare in his direction.

"aww, look at that," he coos mockingly, removing his finger as quickly as he had placed it there and returning your scowl with his trademark smug grin. "little lady still has 'er attitude, i see."

"fuck you." you hiss out, not appreciating where this is going. the sweet rookie officer servicing you was one thing, but the infuriating one who arrested you joining in? now that's an entirely different situation.

"ah ah, doll," toji hums, waving the finger he just had pressed against your clit in front of your thoroughly irritated face. "'m not here for that, unfortunately. just thought i'd give kamo here a little... helping hand, 's all."

"well i don't want your helping hand." you scoff in response, but despite your desperate struggling against the handcuffs that still have you chained to the desk, you can't do anything to slap his hand away when it returns between your legs.

he ignores your protesting movements completely, angling his face down to glance at choso, who is watching his superior's pudgy finger rubbing teasingly slow circles on your clit with rapt attention, seemingly tuning out the bickering between the two of you.

"y'see now, rookie?

choso nods a little too enthusiastically, and the moment toji removes his finger, his tongue is back on your cunt. but this time, it's circling messily around your little bud, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated.

a small moan escapes your lips unwarranted, and you instantly snap your eyes shut in embarrassment — it's becoming increasingly harder to keep your priorities straight with these two extremely attractive police officers attempting to wreck your resolve.

"yeahhh, she likes that," toji leers mockingly, rubbing his fat thumb against the edge of your thigh just to work you up even further. "dontcha, pretty?"

"shut... up." you push out through clenched teeth, fighting not to lose yourself in the sensations they're providing you with. you have to stay strong. you won't become a snitch.

he only snorts in response, pulling his thumb back and giving you a brief moment of relief before swiftly slapping a hand against your folds, the obscene wet squelching sound echoing throughout the room. "don't tell me what to do, girl."

"t-toji," choso whines, pulling his tongue from your clit and glancing down at your twitching flesh from the slap, which he starts peppering with gentle kisses in an attempt to soften the blow. "that was mean."

"oh, that was mean, was it?" he scoffs, rolling his eyes and giving the other man's pigtail a sharp tug as punishment for his words. "what would've been mean is if i fired your scrawny ass the second i got in here for fraternizing with a suspect. but i didn't, did i?"

"n-no... you didn't." choso murmurs meekly in response, his eyes wide and pleading at the prospect of losing his job. he quickly attaches his mouth back to where toji showed him your clit is, suckling gently in an attempt to please both you and his stern boss.

"now thaaat's more like it," toji croons lowly, his voice rich and gruff as he pats the top of choso's hair like he's a well-trained dog. "good boy."

a quiet mewl spills from his busy mouth in response to the praise, his hips weakly bucking against your leg as he tries desperately not to let himself fall apart without getting the information they need from you first.

toji notices, because of course he does, and he wraps a hand around your chin and forces you to look down at the pathetic display below you. "look at him, pretty. y'got him humping your leg like a damn bitch in heat. pussy must be sweet as candy."

"i-it is— shit, it is." comes choso's slurred mumble, popping his mouth from your clit with an lewd pop! before delving his tongue back between your sweetened folds. he may be inexperienced, but he's a quick learner.

"'s that right?" he chuckles, tilting his head to the side. he's speaking to his subordinate, but his eyes never leave yours. it makes you shudder involuntarily, his smirk stretching wider when he takes note of your reactions to him. "lemme get a lil' taste for myself then, kid."

choso obediently moves to the side to make room for toji, but when he doesn't join him on his knees, he looks up with an adorably puzzled expression across his features.

his boss moves his hand from the other man's pigtail down to grasp his chin, roughly pulling him up into a bruising kiss before he can even think of uttering a single protest.

choso whimpers helplessly into the kiss, not bothering to fight back at all as toji sucks lewdly on his tongue, stealing your sweetened juices straight from his subordinate's mouth.

he smacks his scarred lips once he pulls back, humming in satisfaction as his eyes return to you. "rookie's right; that's one ripe cunt y'got there. too bad it's wasted on a damn criminal."

his words make a mixture of arousal and annoyance flare up in the pit of your stomach, another small trickle of wetness gushing out of your core to pool on the plastic chair beneath you as you glare up at him.

"you're deluded if you think i'm telling you anything when you talk to me like that." you spit out, the look on your face one of pure disdain, despite your situation.

"oh, dollface," toji chuckles deeply, ignoring the squirming choso beside him and leaning down so his face is level with yours. "you're not gonna tell us just anythin'. you're gonna tell us everything."

before you can scoff right in his face, choso has been shoved back between your legs by his hair yet again, the feeling of his sweet, warm mouth sucking on your clit making your eyes almost cross in your head.

taking your distracted state as an opportunity to rile you up even further, toji shoves a pudgy thumb between your lips, pressing it right to the back of your throat so you can't even think of talking back anymore.

your resolve is hanging by a very, very thin thread.

despite how much you despise toji, you instinctively start to suckle on his thick digit, too blissed out from choso's sloppy ministrations to bother with how shameless you must look right now.

"mhmm, that's a good girl," he coos mockingly, swirling his thumb around inside your mouth. as composed as he seems, the feeling of your warm, soft little lips around his digit is making him extremely hard in his slacks. "knew y'had some obedience in ya somewhere."

choso mewls again when he feels your spongy walls fluttering around his tongue when he slides it inside your needy hole, assuming that must mean you're close to the edge; close to spilling the information they need.

instinctively, he speeds up his movements, fucking you on his tongue in such a lewd yet somehow gentle way as he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from squirming on the chair.

but suddenly, just when you can feel the coil of an impending orgasm building up in the depths of your stomach, all the stimulation is gone.

toji's thumb leaves your mouth with a wet pop!, and choso gets yanked away from your core with his mouth open and drooling like a dog.

"what the fuck?" you pant out breathlessly, your eyes half-lidded as you glance between them quizzically. choso looks just as confused as you, wriggling against toji's grip on his hair in a fruitless attempt to get back to your sweet pussy.

"what? y'thought we were g'nna let ya cum that easily?" toji chuckles richly, a wide grin stretching across his scarred lips as he easily restrains a rabid choso with one strong hand. "nah, girl. y'gotta tell us what we wanna know first."

shit.

you should've known this would happen. to begin with, you were sure you could manage to keep yourself together if it was just choso servicing you. but now, with your body writhing and desperate for release and it was just toji standing in your way to stop you from getting it?

you were surely about to break.

"what's the matter?" toji croons, his voice dripping with mock concern as he thumbs at your lower lip with his free hand. "lost y'er attitude, pretty?"

you could just stay quiet. refuse to talk — get sent to a jailcell with your panties soiled and your cunt still throbbing with need.

or, you could tell them what they wanted to know. spill the beans on your shitty team members who had abandoned you and were probably rolling around in heaps of cash right now at your hideout without a care in the world. and in return, get your first proper orgasm in a long, long time.

you already know which option you're going to choose.

your voice quiet, you mutter the numberplate of the getaway car your group had used to escape the bank. it's all they need to find your associates; a little tracking using the police system and they can easily decipher the exact location of the vehicle.

toji grins, reaching up to give your head a condescending little pat as a reward while he releases his grip on choso with the other hand, causing his subordinate to dive face first back into your needy pussy.

a shameless moan escapes from deep in your throat, your hips weakly grinding up into choso's face as he feasts on you like it's the last meal of his life. you can feel him smiling happily against you, clearly pleased his method of interrogation worked out in the end, even if he did need his boss's help.

you end up hurling into an overwhelming orgasm when toji spits down onto your cunt, the salvia being swiftly lapped up by choso's eager tongue without a moments hesitation.

your entire body convulses against the plastic chair, the handcuffs digging into your wrists as you writhe and squirm, shameless mewls and cries escaping your lips as you attempt to come down from your high.

you can't even remember the last time you came that hard.

"aww, y'didn't even make 'er squirt, kamo," toji huffs in overexaggerated disappointment, causing the other man's swollen lips to form into a confused little pout. "dontcha think she deserves a proper reward for givin' us the information we were after?"

"squirt? how do i make her do that?"

"tch. damn clueless rookie," he huffs, shoving choso away from between your legs and sinking to his own knees before you. "let me show ya."

suddenly, the consequences of snitching don't seem so important anymore.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

#★sugoroo #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso #choso x reader #choso kamo #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #choso kamo x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x you #choso smut #toji smut

2K notes · View notes

kamitv · 5 months ago

Text

Thinking about Sukuna who...

Hates you (affectionately).

If you expect the king of curses to ever admit his romantic and blissful emotions of love in regards to you, you'd have to (quite literally) be on the verge of death.

He says it a lot too. "I hate you," in place of saying the opposing three words. When you two first got together you found it odd but at some point, you realized that was his idiotic way of saying he loves you.

He'll always have this mean look on his face but sometimes, and only sometimes, you swear you'll find faint little hearts in his eyes when he looks at you. (Then again you might be delusional because look who the hell you're in love with anyway).

Always fucks you like he's mad at you.

Tying you up, choking you, biting you, scratching you-, oh the list goes on with the number of things this man does to you during sex.

He's so mean to you in bed, being sure to stuff you full of his cock(s) for hours on end until you're left completely ruined, and even then most times he doesn't want to stop. The only reason sex ends with him is simply because he pities your lack of stamina.

That, and it annoys him when you're so fucked-out that the sound of his name leaving your lips is barely over a whiney little whisper. Followed by that is usually the frustratingly small pushes you give him, babbling something about it being 'too much', even though your cunt is always saying quite the opposite.

Aside from that, he fucking loves when you're scratching at his back, leaving bright red marks he finds prettier than the dark tattoos decorating the rest of his muscular body. He'll be sure to admire take a look at them the following morning. Then, whenever said scars begin to heal, he'll be sure to remind you to create new ones for him-- he loves them most when they're fresh.

Requires your full undivided attention no matter what.

The moment your name leaves his lips, Sukuna expects every ounce of your attention on him. He doesn't care what you're doing, you're required to be focused on him whenever he requests your attention.

It's almost like he doesn't even 'request' your attention, he commands it. It's in the way he looks at you; the way he'd tip his head into whatever direction you're looking into just so you can understand the seriousness behind his request-- and yes, sometimes he could be saying something pointless like, "You looked foolish running around in the garden like that earlier," To which you'd happily respond to him with both a smile and a chuckle, "You were watching me?" And then he'd feel caught and cover it up with a roll of his eyes, "I always know your whereabouts, human."

Secretly loves having your eyes on his.

Or, he think he hides his love for the eye contact pretty well...

Though, you see right through all of that rather quickly. The way he always tips your chin up so that he can get a full look at your face all the time, tells you to keep looking at him no matter the situation-- he could be balls deep inside you and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head and yet he still expects them to eventually return to him.

Even when he's not looking at you he tells you to keep your eyes on him. It frightens you sometimes when you watch him look at something else and then you try to do the same only to flinch at the sound of his rough tone hitting your ears seconds later with a swift, "Did I say you could stop looking at me?"

Hates to see you upset.

As much as the man thrives in the displeasure of others, you're probably the only living thing that genuinely irks his nerves to see upset.

Even though he finds your little pouts and huffs of frustration as cute as ever, he only finds such expressions enjoyable when he's the cause of them. And even at that point, he doesn't exactly like seeing you mad with him. Sukuna already feels as though you should hate him as is so whenever you're actually mad at him for something (most likely killing someone after you've requested him not to do so) it makes his heart twinge in unfamiliar ways.

That's typically when he'll decide it's a good time to throw you a very rare, yet much appreciated compliment. A simple, "You look pretty today," somehow always distracts you from whatever it is you're mad about. Which makes him smirk-- he finds it endearing how easy it is to please you. (Though, he only finds it so endearing because he knows only he can bring you such joy so simply).

Has a tendency to treat you more like some kinda pet instead of a partner.

He truly doesn't mean to but it happens naturally for a curse who knows little of what it means to love someone.

Stuff like, "Fetch me another water, woman." "Sit." and, "Stay here." is often slipping from his lips without second thought. And no he doesn't mean to make you feel like a pet, it's simply the way he speaks to everyone and you're no exception.

Well, you weren't an exception until you explained that you don't like it when he speaks to you like you're some kind of dog. To which he teased you, "Yet you enjoy my praises?" Naturally, you were confused so your brows twisted up and he went on to elaborate, "When I call you a, or my 'good girl', you always tell me how it arouses you." Then you're sputtering out an embarrassed little, "T-That's different and you know it!" "It is still something I would say to a dog." He deadpans, like he always does when he's speaking to you. Your eyes roll and he smirks within the split second your gaze isn't on his, "Yes, but I'm talking about the other things you say." Folding those large bulky arms of his across his chest as he stands before you, "Ah, so you mean when I command you?" Sukuna asks for clarification. "Yes," You reply simply with your eyes returning to his Again, he acts clueless, "You told me you loved dominant men." "That's not what I-," Your face is met with your palm and you let out a heavy sigh before giving up on your little explanation, "Y'know what, never mind."

He pretends to have no idea what you were trying to express in that conversation but you later notice the difference in the way he talks you.

Knows you have a not-so-secret thing for his thighs.

And how can anyone blame you? He often covers them up, of course, but when you first found out he had such slutty tattoos decorating his upper thigh, you couldn't help but he enamored by them.

Though, when Sukuna caught wind of this, he instructs you to ride those same thighs you find 'slutty' and audibly describe to him in detail what it is you like about his thighs so much. So when you're prettily sitting atop him with little to no clothes, safe for the lingerie set he had made for you, all he can do is stare at you with that cocky ass smile of his, ignoring his aching cock whilst he listens to your whiney descriptions of how attractive you find his tattoos.

Loves bickering with you.

He’ll admit this one. Sukuna can’t get enough of getting on your nerves in a teasing manner.

Flicking your forehead mid conversation just to watch your brows twitch and your face twist up, cutting you off as you’re talking just to watch the way you shut yourself up or sometimes keep talking over him as if to compete with him, and disagrees with most of what you say just because.

“The sky is so beautiful today, ‘Kuna, look!” You once exclaimed as you enjoyed a rather peaceful walk with the curse, your arms wrapped snuggly around one of his. He barely spares the sky a glance before grumbling a response to you, “It looks horrid.” “Sukuna,” You huff in that scolding tone he seems to adore so much. Biting back a smirk, “Woman.” With a little groan, you give his bulky arm a nudge with your head, “Can’t you be serious just this once?” “I am being serious,” Sukuna deadpans before looking down at you and meeting your gaze— feeling proud to find your eyes are already on his. You’ve got this pout on your face now, “What’s so ‘horrid’ about the sky? Hm?” Words are flying past his lips faster than he intends to, almost like second nature as he takes in the features of the only human to have every captured his attention, “It doesn’t look like you.” “I-,” You’re smiling immediately, “What?” “Nothing.” Oh how you adore when he does that — compliment you and then get all shy about it, his eyes darting elsewhere, “Awww, Kuna-“ “I’ll kill you, brat,” Sukuna cuts you off crisply as he tugs you further along the long path you’re headed down. “You love mee,” You reply in a nagging tone, flashing the man the brightest smile you can muster. And of course, he’ll never deny that but he also refuses to say those three words to you so, instead, he’s smirking slightly before responding with an expected command of, “Silence, human.”

Will never admit to being jealous.

Despite it being so obvious— he’ll always deny it when you ask.

He walked in on Uraume showing you how to properly prepare a meal one time and decided to nudge his personal chef out of the way just to show you himself. Muttering something about it being ‘easier’ if he shows you himself.

Sukuna often threatens those who have their eyes on you for any longer than five seconds at a time, even if you’re literally talking to them. And yes, yes he’s counting every second.

Has the most degrading nicknames for you.

“Whore.”

His “cockhungry slut.”

“Needy bi-“ He got hit for trying this one out without your permission.

“Brat.”

“Stupid woman.”

“Foolish human.”

But when he does say something affectionate— it typically consists of; “angel”, “perfect”, “beautiful”, “heaven in his hands”, y’know, the usual.

Finds his emotions only ever confusing him when you're around.

His heart feels strange in his chest when you give him small touches.

He can’t stop his breath from hitching in intimate moments when you’re running your fingertips along his jawline and studying his face closely.

You kissed the tip of his nose one time and whispered something about how handsome he was and Sukuna swears he’s never felt the need to protect and savor something more in his life.

If he were ever to lose you, he’d wreak havoc on the rest of the earth until you’re miraculously reborn, of age, into this world once more. (His words, not mine)

Loves your tits more than any other part of your body.

Sukuna likes playing with them for some odd reason. Like a big baby with a sensory video, flash your tits at the man and he can’t think of anything else aside from the soft flesh he’s toying with in his palms.

And he has two pairs of hands so he makes use of them quite often. Approaching you from behind, grabbing your waist with one set of hands and your breasts with the other— he’ll grope your tits and lean down to your ear to whisper about how soft and perfect you are for him.

Dislikes when you make him speechless.

And you do it often too. Each time he sees you, he only feels his words fading over and over again.

The first time he saw you in a red and black kimono constructed specifically for your figure, he felt all thoughts and words leaving him and the only thing on his body still working properly was his cock(s).

You notice how every time you call the curse ‘handsome’ he goes quiet for a moment longer than normal. He’ll stare at you like you’d said something foreign for a few minutes before muttering something along the lines of, “Stop telling me things I’m already aware of, brat.” But, his face is shaded a different hue of red and his eyes wander elsewhere for just a second.

Has and would kill anyone for you or because of you.

This, you have to scold him about. In the beginning of your relationship with the king of curses, he would dispose of people as if their lives had no true value— all for the sake of you.

You had to beg the man for months straight to let go of that sinful habit of his and almost did. The only difference in his killings now versus then is that you don’t know about them. Or, he trues to make sure you don’t know (he’s not that good at keeping things from you).

Is happiest when you call him certain names.

“My lord” “My king” “‘Kuna” “Handsome” but he’ll never admit to his preference for these nicknames over other ones you may call him.

A/N: lmk if there are any errors — this isn’t proofread!

3K notes · View notes

reignpage · 1 month ago

Text

Vice President!Sukuna

Pétain: losing it all pt 1

Word count: 4.4k Contents: 18+ mdni, cursing, smut, reading this is not compulsory, part 2 will explain The Night, so please read the warnings before reading, I will seriously block minors and ageless blogs Warnings: noncon, cnc, dub-con, primal play, threat of violence and act of violence, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, exhibitionism, slight blood play After much deliberation, I've decided to add noncon in the warnings, again proceed with caution

“Is that the Vice President?” Someone whispers.

Another girl whispers back, “No, he’s the President now.”

You ignore everyone and continue your way to the field, carrying two buckets of soil, ready to plant the seeds in your pocket. Being a member of the Green Thumb Society meant being at one with nature, giving back to the Earth so that we can maintain an equilibrium, ensuring that the future generations will have something to inherit.

Or whatever.

Truthfully, you haven’t been listening, simply itching to get your hands dirty so you can distract your mind. Not being the president means having lots of free time, but not having any friends means you don’t have anything to do in those times. At first, you were overjoyed because then you can focus on the mountain of work you have, however, once you sat yourself down to finish up all the readings and applications you had, you realised you didn’t actually have that much work to begin with.

So now, you’re digging in the dirt, right at the edge of the forest at the back of the Lawn, pretending you can’t feel searing eyes on your back. The ground is hard, and you’re not even sure this is the right season to start planting anything, but what do you know?

Because it’s almost winter, the sky is darkening much faster than anyone would like, and you’re starting to feel more and more anxious as the clouds turn orange in the horizon. Coupled with the fact that you can feel a presence looming behind you, making the hairs on your arms stand, your fight or flight has been activated.

“We need to talk.”

“No,” you say without missing a beat.

A hand comes out and grabs the back of your sweater, hauling you up, shovel falling to the ground. You’re being spun around to face a frustratingly handsome face and he’s giving you a deadpan look, unimpressed by your stubbornness. Standing on your tiptoes, you have to cling onto his jacket to keep steady.

“I wasn’t asking, prez,” he drawls.

Scowling, you smack his chest once and then again when he didn’t even flinch. “That’s the problem; you never ask.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, arm dropping so you can stand on your own, but he doesn’t let go. Probably thinks you’ll run again. Though, you’re not sure why he thinks you would; you’re not drunk. And you certainly don’t want a repeat of last time, people still come up to you to recite your speech.

“Let’s get outta here,” he pulls you with him.

You dig your heels onto the ground, slapping his arm to let you go. There’s no way in hell you’re going anywhere with him, being alone with Sukuna doesn’t work out well for you, it only forces you deeper and deeper into a hole you don’t want to be in and have been trying to get out for years now. Plus, you’d hate to give him the satisfaction.

“Stop being a pain in the ass,” he growls, dragging you with him regardless. Your futile attempts at escape are only irritating him more. “You’re gonna talk whether you like it or not.”

People are staring and you’re gritting your teeth, the embarrassment making your face heat up and you pull away harder. “Sukuna, stop, people are gonna talk.”

He gives you a look that screams, who the fuck cares.

“No, stop it, I’m serious,” people are whispering and pointing. “Please, Sukuna.”

Halting suddenly, your face hits his back. His back hurts, Jesus.

One glance at you makes him roll his eyes and then he’s dragging you the opposite direction, into the forest. It’s darkening and the thick lines of trees makes your heartbeat faster and, once again, you’re trying to wrangle yourself out of his grip. This is the kind of place young girls go to die.

“Not there, either!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

Eventually, the Green Thumbers disappear from you and all you can see for miles are trees. And a pissed off pink-haired, varsity jacket wearing pain in the ass, tapping his foot on the mud. You simply cannot catch a fucking break. Because apparently you committed some atrocities in your past life and now you must be punished. Again, and again and again.

“Talk me through what the fuck is happening. Why did you let that old fucker push you out of your position and why the fuck aren't you fighting to get it back?”

You lean against a tree, the bark scratching you even through your sweater. Guess this is happening. With a sigh, you explain, “There wasn’t anything I could have done, Sukuna. He said, I was giving the school a bad rep. That the trustees don’t think I’ve been a doing a good enough job, what with Cursed Womb still running amok, the gossip column spreading the students’, and the staff’s, dirty secrets across campus and even across the city. Not to mention all those times I’ve been late to meetings, files going missing, and presentations being inaccurate. Thank to you.”

Sukuna huffs, leaning against a tree too, hands stuffed into his pocket. At first glance, he doesn’t even look like he’s listening to a thing you’re saying, but you know him better than that, unfortunately. Because when he flexes his jaw, you know he’s annoyed.

“Alright, my bad.”

Your eye twitches. “Your bad? Your bad? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugs, “Yeah.”

You walk away.

With no idea where to go, you’re just marching away, kicking away leaves and pushing branches away from your face. Muttering curses under your breath, you grow weary of the darkening of the night, you start to regret letting him drag you away at all. Why do you always get swept up in his bullshit?

When you almost trip over a log, you screech. The ground nears but just as you’re about to fall, you’re being yanked back into a hard chest.

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he growls.

“Why are you such a fucking prick?” You scream. “You’re everywhere. Seriously! Fuck off! Why do you want to ruin my life? It isn’t enough that you forced me out of the position so you can have it for yourself, but now you want to make me miserable by not letting me do anything fun?”

Your hands are flying, half waving in the air and half smacking into him, hitting whatever you can reach and you’re stomping your feet. This is all ridiculous — he hated you, and then he has these stupid, ridiculous moments where he makes your heart clench, where he looks at you like you’re somebody, like you’re special, and it always left you reeling, unable to sleep at night.

“Calm the fuck down!” He yells back. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“CRAZY! I’m acting crazy. Ohhhhh, you’re such a fucking dick. I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

He’s grabbing your wrists, trying to restrain you so you’d shut up, but you’re done being silenced. Done with his horrible attitude and personality and his stupid face. Everything went to shit because of him, he ruined your first year, and now he’s ruined your third year, but apparently that isn’t enough because he’s trying to ruin every day of the rest of your life.

Sukuna’s trying to get a word in, but you’re rambling, screeching and hollering about anything and everything, somethings he’s willing to admit was his fault, but other things were just plain ridiculous.

“I dropped my bagel this morning and it was because of you! I can’t prove it but I know you had something to do with it. Your stupid malevolent energy reached me from whatever depths of hell you crawled out of, and you ruined my breakfast! That cost me £7! £7, Sukuna!”

“Shut the fuck up for just a second, y/n.”

“A-and when I slipped in the shower, I’m sure your evil spirit pushed me— “

“How could that possibly— “

“And now I have a bruise!”

“Have been my fault?”

SMACK!

In the midst of complaining and rambling, your arm had flung over, and your hand slipped. Right onto his cheek.

You slapped Sukuna.

And the clenching of his fists, his heavy breaths, tensing shoulders, and flexing of his jaw all scream you’ve fucked up. You’re inching away, hands coming in between you two, shielding yourself from him. The burning of your hand is urging you back and back, eyes firmly fixed on the raging bull in your china shop.

Oh shit.

In all the two years and a bit you’ve known Sukuna, have kept an eye out for him, you’ve never seen him look this angry. And though you once thought he’d never raise a hand against a woman, against you, you’re suddenly very very unsure.

His red eyes raise to meet yours and the tick at the corner of his mouth makes your heart drop. He says one word. And you turn away, silent screams escaping you.

“Run.”

Your legs pump, frigid air biting cheeks, stabbing every exposed inch of skin as you disappeared further and further into a forest, weaving around thick trees and hurdling over logs and rocks. You’re practically galloping, pushing your body to its limits as you twist and turn, shuddering breath misting in front of you as your heart skips a beat.

If he catches you, you’re dead.

“Fuck!” You cry out. Sprinting, you ignore the growing ache in your legs and the pain in your ankles; you’ve never run like this before. Although, to be fair, you’ve never been chased by a livid Ryomen. Not sure anyone has ever lived to tell the tale.

Leaves crunch under your shoes as you pushed through, unsure of where to go, where is safe. He's stronger, bigger and faster than you. You both know it. There isn't anywhere you could go where he wouldn't find you. It's as if you've entered a labyrinth of shadows, your vision obscured by the thickening blanket of night and every snap of a twig all around you threaten to make tears spill.

"Oh, prez, where are you?" His voice has taken a mocking, singsong tone, and it's scariest thing you've ever heard. It sends shivers down your spine, a promise of the damage that he could do, that despite the saccharine sweet words, he is nothing but nice. You fight the urge to scream.

"Leave me alone!"

Foot catching on something, you tumbled forward, palms reaching out and scraping against the rough earth. The sharp sting barely registered through the adrenaline coursing through your veins but you know it'll leaves marks. You scrambled to your feet, dirt sticking to your clothes, a sob catching in your throat, your eyes darting around the endless sea of trees.

"You know I can't do that."

"Why?" You yell back.

When you whirl your head back, scanning the area for any sign of pink hair or a purple jacket, you find nothing but shadows shaped like trees, their silhouette sharp and bony. You’re panting, chest heaving as you try to gulp air desperately.The trees look like his allies, obscuring him from your view, harbouring a criminal.

His voice is a low breeze and you can't pinpoint where it's coming from when he laughs sardonically, "You already know why, prez."

He could be anywhere, and you’re pressing yourself against a tree, nails digging into the bark as you looked around frantically. It’s dark. The only source of light being the moon and when you fumble for your phone in your jean pocket, you can’t find it. You must have dropped it.

“This isn’t fair!”

You’re sobbing, tearing out your hair. Seconds pass. Maybe even minutes and there aren't any signs of Sukuna, of anyone being here apart from you. He could have left already. You laugh hysterically.

“I did everything right! I worked hard, I never complained, never broke a rule. Why am I being punished?” You punch the tree and cry even harder when it hurt. Your fist throbs. “OW! Fuck! What did I do that was so fucking wrong?”

There were rumours once of a girl who had died in the woods, right at the very centre of the forest. She had a fight with her boyfriend about something or the other, and they fought here, all night. But when morning came, only one emerged. No one could verify this gossip, no news article, nothing concrete, but the students who passed through Eden spoke of it as if it was as true as the sun is blinding. You're trying to wrack your brain for any more information, your brain desperate to distract you from the mania creeping through veins.

She was a law student.

"I don't want to die," you cry. "I've barely lived. I still haven't gone skydiving, haven't driven on the motorway 'cause that shit's fucking scary. A-and I need to say 'I love you' to my mother, and well fuck my father. But I want to say goodbye to Mr. Teddy and Mrs. Kitty Cat. They'll be so fucking sad."

“Talking to yourself, prez?”

You scream.

Sukuna’s leaning against a tree a couple metre behind you. You hadn’t heard him. Not even a snap of a branch or the rustling of leaves. He has his jacket off and thrown over his shoulder, his shirt riding up as he brushes his hair back, a seething sneer on his face.

When he makes a step forward, you stumble back, another scream lodged in your throat. “Stay back! I swear, don’t come near me.”

A sharp smile climbs up his face, a glint in his eyes, and his jacket is being dragged behind him as he stalks over to you, completely disregarding your warning, his long legs taking him closer. You have goosebumps on your arms and you’re so close to pissing yourself.

“So you can use a little violence, but I can’t?” He cocks his head at you. “That’s not very fair, is it, my adorable little president?”

“I’m not yours!”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because the next thing you know you’re being pinned to the forest floor. You fall with a thump, screech muted by a hand over your mouth. His hip is between your legs, thighs spread and stretching to accommodate his body which holds you down, unable to wiggle or crawl away. Your hands claw at the leaves and mud, dirt caking your nails, and you’re trying to ignore the smirk on his face.

Tutting, he snapped, "This has been a long time coming, prezzy."

He looks murderous. Like a serial killer who’s just found the perfect next victim. And before you can complain, his mouth is crashing down on yours. It’s a clash of teeth, his tongue penetrating your mouth when you gasp, fighting yours as you push at his shoulders, bucking your hips to throw him off.

When your clothed core grinds against his hard length, you moan. “Let me go!”

Sukuna nips your bottom lip, the taste of iron filling your mouth and you’re lightheaded. With a growl, he promises, “Never.”

Bare hands clutching your sweater, he rips it off you, the fabric snapping and disappearing over his shoulder. The cool air pricks your skin, pebbling your nipples and he’s covering your tits with his huge hands, groping and kneading like they’re his worst enemies.

“No bra, prez?” He snarls into your ear before licking a strip up your neck. “You’re just walking temptation, aren’t you?”

His hips are grinding on yours, a punishing pace that sets your skin ablaze and you’re gasping with every roll of your nipples between his fingers and whimpering when he pinches and pulls. Like you’re being controlled by someone else, you grind back, legs crossing over his legs.

“Let me go!” You cry out again. “Stop it, Sukuna!”

He bites your neck, and you arch into him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. When you pull at his hair, he only huffs a laugh before he’s creeping a hand into your jeans, somehow having unbuttoned and unzipped it. His fingers press against your panties, and you hide your face into his neck, nipping him back.

“You tell me to stop but you’re soaked,” he laughs.

His hand weaves inside your panties, rubbing your clit at a merciless pace; hard and fast from the get-go, your eyes are shutting, and you cry out when he dips inside, soaking himself with your wetness. He curls them, prodding and pummelling that spot inside of you that has you digging your nails into his back, threatening to rip up his shirt.

With a broken moan, you smack his back, “No more!”

“More? This not enough for you,” his voice is mocking. “Don’t wanna cum from my fingers, is that it, you frustratingly beautiful piece of work?”

Before you could argue back, could push him away, or kick your legs, he’s pulling your jeans halfway off, and then he’s spinning you around, face down and ass up. The cold air brushes against your sloppy pussy, clit swollen from having been rubbed and petted by his hostile hand, longer fingers stretching you out.

And then something equally hot and wet touches your slit. He's lapping up your wetness, fingers still curled inside of you as he rubs your walls whilst he sucks at your clit. You're moaning, fingers digging into the dirt as you try to crawl away, but his spare hand is holding you down, forcing you to arch more painfully so he can suck and lick to his heart's content. He scissors his long fingers, forcing you to stretch.

"Stop! Stop it!" You sob. He isn't listening, he's taking what he wants from you, extracting a strained orgasm that makes you tear up, pussy clenching around his fingers. "No! No, I don't want this!"

"I don't care," is all he says. Through the fog of pain and pleasure, you hear a ziiiip, and you’re panicking, hands clawing even more. You have to get out of here, have to escape. If anyone's emerging, it's you. It has to be you.

But when he lines his cock up, you realise your face isn’t buried in leaves and mud, but rather something soft. It’s his jacket. He slams inside you in one thrust.

“FUCK!”

He’s thrusting inside, hard, and with a bruising grip on your hips, simultaneously keeping you still so he can drill his fat cock inside your clenching pussy and pulling you to meet his hips. The forest is quiet, apart from the choked moans and groans coming from you, and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

“Been keeping this tight pussy from me?” He thrusts harder, cock head rubbing against that spot inside you and it steals your breath. “Fucking selfish!”

You’re trying to argue back but it all just comes out garbled, drool pooling under your chin. There’s nothing you can do but maul his hands, trying to pry them off you. He doesn’t let up, only thrusts harder, like he’s punishing you for all his frustrations.

“I hate you!” You manage to push out.

Sukuna leans forward, heavy body pinning you to the floor even more so he can nip your ear, licking away the blood and growling at the taste. “You may hate me, but this cunt doesn’t.”

And to prove his point, he shuts up, grinding inside of you so you can hear the squelching of your pussy and the way it’s squeezing him for more, desperate to milk him so it can be coated in his cum. You twist, hand pushing against his chest whilst you cry, tears streaming down your face from the sheer stretch.

“Tell me what happened. Tell me what I did,” he orders.

You shake your head, groaning with every thrust, and when he rubs your clit with one hand, whilst the other gropes your bare tit, you can only cry out louder. “You ruined everything! Ngh! I had it all and you -ha- took it from me.”

Clinking of metal and rustling of paper catches your eye. He’s dropped money on the floor. Sukuna’s emptied his wallet in front of you, even his cards fall out, including a shiny black one. They all clink and clatter right by your head.

“Take it all as compensation for your fucking bagel, you damn brat.”

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE BAGEL,” you screech.

His hips don’t stutter, not even for a second, insistent on plunging his cock again and again so your pussy will never forget the shape of it. You can feel him in your stomach, can feel every ridge, every vein, and you think you might just pass out from the stretch.

Years of pressure, of tension, of hatred, of bitterness and resentment build up inside of you, tearing you apart. You think about the tears, the nightmares, the loneliness in your first year. The numbness in your second and the anger, the pain, the pleasure in your third.

“Keep crying, baby. Only —ha— makes me want to fuck you harder till you can’t cry anymore.”

It’s a tsunami approaching land, you can feel the painful orgasm creeping up, threatening to drown you. And when his left hand falls beside your head, steadying himself so he can angle his cock deeper, kissing your cervix with every thrust now, you see something that looks so familiar you missed it every time you saw it on his wrist.

He’s wearing your hair tie.

You cum all over him, drenching his abs with your wetness, and you’re tensing up, still being used as practically a sex doll, all limp and pliant for his pleasure. It’s the kind of pleasure you’ve never had before, the one you’ve chased with boys who didn’t know what they were doing, couldn’t tell your thigh from your clit, and have only ever left you unsatisfied and full of regret.

“Fuck! S’kuna!”

“That’s right, prez, cum all over my cock. Take what you want, baby.” He soothes your ass, watching the way it’s bouncing on his length to elongate your high, before he meets you in the middle.

And with one last moan, you fall, your ass kept up high by his hands only. Then, he cums with a growl, right in your ear, the vibrations piercing your body and lighting your soul with a warmth you can’t bear to think about.

“So fucking good,” he snarls. “Perfect. Fucking made just for me, yeah?”

He wasn't talking to you, was only groaning to himself, but you mutter agreements, everything you can to make him spurt out all of his hatred for you. And he does. You feel it spilling out.

When you both calm down, lying on the ground — you on his jacket and him on the floor — you feel something has changed between you. An acceptance of whatever the fuck is wrong with both of you. Of that strange, fucked up string connecting you both. You won’t fight it anymore.

Can’t fight it anymore.

You're a mess. Tears and drool drying on your face, your juice and his cum coating your inner thighs, dirt and blood caking your body. You've never felt more cleansed.

Feeling an urge to cry but having used up all your tears, you scoot over to him, lying on his chest and his arms wrap around you like it’s second nature, a hand rubbing your back whilst the other threads through your hair, pulling out leaves from the tangles.

“I’m bored,” you admit, tracing abstract patters on his chest. His shirt is sticking to him, slightly damp from the exertion. You’re completely naked, jeans discarded somewhere. There should be a fear of being caught, of being seen in such a vulnerable position, but for some reason you don’t care. Maybe it’s because you know Sukuna wouldn’t let that happen. Or maybe he would, and you just don’t care anymore.

He sighs. “I know.”

“I really liked being the president,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“But the Dean ruined everything. No, Mahito did. No, you did.”

He sighs again. “I know. I’ll fix it.”

You raise your head, chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. “How are you gonna do that?”

Brushing errant hairs from your face, he promises, “EdenU relies heavily on funding from my family. I’ll force the Dean’s hand, make him reinstate you.”

Unable to resist the urge, you bite his chin, feeling an aggressive desire to make him hurt. He smacks your ass in retaliation.

“But what about you? Didn’t you want to be president? Isn’t that what this whole thing’s even about?” It’s odd to be so casual, so conversational after that mind-numbing sex and the fact that there’s so much to be said, to be discussed between you two, but that’s just how it is with you and him. You aren’t normal. And certainly, aren’t healthy.

“Nah,” he scoffs, “been president for like a week and that shit was tiring. Dunno how you did it.”

You giggle. “It’s not for the weak, that’s for sure.”

Sukuna slaps your ass for his own pleasure, a grin growing on his face. matching yours. But then it drops as he looks over your face, like he’s just remembered what the whole thing’s been about. Your smile drops too.

“Do we have to?” You ask, but the grim look on his face is all the answer you need.

He cradles your cheek in one hand, uncharacteristically soft, and then he pecks your lips, once, twice. “Tell me what I did to you. Tell me what I put you through.”

You try to pull away but he’s holding you tighter. Your lip trembles and with a hiccup, you hiss, “What does it matter? Will you even apologise?”

“Yes,” he insists. “I’ll do it. For you. I’ll do it now.”

Sitting up, you try to find your clothes, fumbling in the dark. You find your panties and jeans, miraculously, and put them on. Unfortunately, your sweater is ripped up, but he drapes his jacket on you, and you both know it’ll stay with you from now on, like he had always intended.

“If I tell you, we’ll have to start over again.”

His mouth is teasing and tasting wherever it can reach, exploring your neck, brushing your cheek and your hair, as if he’s promising your body his sincerity when he says, “Whatever it takes, I’ll win you back. Even if it takes forever.”

You’re willing to test that out.

So, leaning back on his chest, you recount the night you set out to lose one thing and ended up losing everything.

#jjk x reader #jjk sukuna ryomen #jjk angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #jjk drabble #jjk fic #jjk smut #sukuna smut

986 notes · View notes