#and being all like 'huh well if they can do that–'

[madamechrissy]

Stripclub Owner Sukuna

Stripclub owner Sukuna x Fem! Stripper reader- headcanons

This will be a full oneshot or mini seriess, if you wanna get tagged in this drop a comment. <3 MDNI- warnings- OBSESSED Sukuna, oral sex (both receiving) fingering, spitting, cum swallowing (both of em lol) he's almost a little Yandere tbh lol, explicit sex, mentions of drugs, Sukuna being whipped lol

Stripclub Owner Sukuna- who loves what he does, the money he makes, the women, the entire atmosphere. What more could he really need in life?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna lights up a blunt with his co owner, Toji, as they lounge back on one of the bright red Sofa's, watching their girls dance around them while they hold business meetings. Sukuna certainly doesn't mind beautiful women, nor does he mind snorting coke right off them.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna throws back a shot, when suddenly he sees someone so different, so fucking pretty it makes his heart thud in his chest. He can barely stop himself from yanking you right away from this. He's slicking back pastel hair when Toji introduces you so casually, wearing a pretty silver bikini that shows too much of your sexy body. You look shy? You look nervous?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna takes your hand then, smirking at you, watching the blush decorate your cheeks, when he finds you're going to be a dancer, he immediately wants to say no, dance for just him, a level of possession he's never even felt with his girlfriends. Sukuna's shared plenty of women, but if he got you!?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna smacks Toji for even bringing you here later, and Toji scoffs. 'She has a kid and shit, she'll make top dollar here' Sukuna falters at such news. 'Don't ya think she'll make bank?' 'Tch, of course she will... it's just she's so...' Toji snorts. 'you got the hots for her, huh? Well she ain't some easy girl, I know her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna knows he must have you, when you're stepping around the stage, and he's eyeing you, sitting right in front of the stage as you get on your knees, crawling toward him and smiling shyly. 'how're you a shy stripper, huh? not gonna work' he huffs, and you tilt your head, hand slipping down his tie. 'No allure in a shy dancer, Mr. Sukuna?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loses his mind when he hears his name spilled from your glossy lips, as he thinks of shoving his cock deep inside that mouth, so close to his when you turn. You bend over, ass right in the air, begging for a smack as you look back at him, hair falling over your face. 'Why're you here?' he demands, eyeing the curve of your back, cock hard like he's some pathetic teenager or something.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna tenses when you say - 'I need the money, isn't it why everyone does this?' 'Toji says you got a kid' you tense then, turning toward him nervously, as the stagelights glimmer all over your skin. 'That a problem?' Sukuna shakes his head. "Nah, lots of girls here do...' You exhale. 'I'm a single mom, my friend can watch her at night, why not work while she's asleep? I can spend my time with her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna admires the fuck out of you as you dance your pretty ass off, but he hates the men that see you, see you in just your little bottoms and tassells, breasts bouncing, ass jiggling as you shake it, as you move. You're a whole star quickly, the few hours a night you come in you make bank, but as soon as you leave, he's in his office, jerking it to you, imagining those nipples, that pussy he sees hints of with your spandex panties.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna On one particular night forgets to lock the door, you're still out there dancing but he can't take it, you're too fucking sexy, he's picturing burying his face in that nice ass of yours as you step inside, shutting the door quickly when you see it, his enormous dick in his hands, covered in precum. You gasp, looking away quickly. 'shit I'm sorry, it's my ex... he's such an ass and I didn't want him to see me...'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna pauses, in shock as you look back down at him, licking your lower lip. 'I'm interrupting...' you come closer though, watching, breath catching in your throat. 'Want me to beat him the fuck up? ruin him?' Sukuna murmurs, voice husky, when you keep walking towards him, and he slowly strokes, from the base to the tip of his veiny length, acting so casual. 'No, you don't have to do all that, you're already so good to me' he laughs then, shaking his head. 'You are, maybe I should... be good to you?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna can't form a thought when you're stroking his cock, leaning so close, lips just a breath from his, taking two of his fingers and sucking his precum off them, cheeks hollowing. Sukuna loses his control then, using those two fingers to slip so deep you cry out, earning his groan, uncaring if anyone heard. He's curling them up in your walls as you stroke, his eyes laser focused on your pretty face when he grips your hair by the nape of your neck. 'wanna suck me, huh brat?' he tries to keep it together, but when you nod eagerly, on your knees, he can't take how good your throat feels.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has his cock fucking up into your throat, his salty precum against your tongue, and he wonders if it's some dream it has to be, you're too fucking beautiful to just be doing this, you shouldn't even be working, he thinks. He'd like you just naked around his house, to fuck you on every surface, fill you up with so many kids you'd never leave. Sukuna is groaning while you suck him greedily, looking up at him with dilated, beautiful eyes, making him simultaneously want to fuck you and want to make love to you, stupid insane shit that irritates him.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna stutters when you suck harder, and he's cumming deep in your throat, not meaning to. No he wants to fuck your pussy, not this, but you make him cum so fast it's stupid, swallowing him with a pretty smile, as you lean up on shaky legs. He presses a kiss to your lips, desperate and messy, tasting all of his cum all over your mouth. You're gasping, until the door opens, and you pull apart, seeing an amused Toji. You are losing your mind later as you clean up to go home, wondering what's gotten ahold of you, when Sukuna is waiting right outside.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loves it when you look down so shy and pretty, you're biting your lower lip to death, he releases it from the grip of your teeth. 'you free tonight, brat?' you blink in confusion. 'you want...' 'want you at my place, spread wide f'me, yeah?' you gasp at the thought, shaking your head then. 'I'm not, I have to get home to my kid... but tomorrow night?' he nods, ushering you to your shitty car, picturing you in something so much better soon, leaning over with a smirk as he seatbelts you in.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna now that he's had a taste, he can't stop thinking of you, when you're at work the next day you're quickly in his office again, this time he's got you grinding on his lap, slick arousal pooling in your little outfit. 'I'll fuckin pay you triple, take the day off' "Mr. Sukuna...' 'Take. The. Day. Off.' Sukuna finally gets you home, having you bent over his couch before you can blink, ripping your pretty costume to shreds, pumping you so full of his cock you're trembling, shaking, head falling back as he fills you so good, slamming your cervix.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has never felt anything like you, like your cunt pulsing around his cock, like his balls slapping your twitchy little clit, as you're sobbing it hurts so good, tears streaming down your pretty face while he rails his cock so deep. Sukuna busts deep in you as he wraps a big hand around your throat, fucking into you over and over, feeling you milk his cock for all he's got. 'Gonna fill you the fuck up, huh brat? gonna drip on the goddamn stage'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has your pussy on his mouth when he's busted in you, starting to lap all the gooey white cum from your pretty pussy. 'Sukuna! ah!' you've never felt like this, so fucked out as his tongue scoops all your cum out, he's leaning over you, spitting it right into your mouth, chuckling. 'pathetic, just how I fuckin need you'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna is pathetic for you, he doesn't let you leave, he pays you for another day, fucking you in every position, at some point he's holding you upside down, you're bobbing on his cock as he's gripping your ass, moaning against your hole, you're falling apart, so weak and sore. when you finally have to go home, because you have your kid, Sukuna can't stop thinking about you, about how he wants you to have his babies, to be under him every goddamn night, so excited when you come into work, only to see you devastated.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna demands to know what's wrong, only to see your shady ass ex, who wants to saunter up to him like he's shit, you shake your head, but soon Sukuna is beating the fuck out of him. 'you have no clue who he is, Mr. Sukuna...' you tell him then, earning Sukuna's chuckle, his big grin. 'You don't know who I am, baby'

Soooo this is kinda a tease of what's to come for this lil storyyy (lmk if you're interested in the full version!) <3

permatags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @n1vi @aldebrana @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy - also taggingggg- @naammiii @msniks @1worm1 <3

[seungkwansflower]

inspired by: unconditional by jaehyun <3

pairing: husband!s.coups x fem!reader

genre: pure fluff

wc: 349

a/n: uhhhh…this is my first fic EVER, so bear with me folks. i’m thinking of doing drabbles like these for all the members but idk yet. thank you to @injeolmibbingsuu for encouraging me ^^

~~~~~~~~~

Taking off the hair tie that held your ponytail for the tiring work day, you walk into your bedroom. Instead of finding any evidence of your husband’s return from work, a very suspicious bag is placed on your white linens. By “suspicious”, you mean a perky white and black Prada bag. You huff, hair tie thrown on your bed, your phone ringing your husband and slotted between your ear and shoulder. He answers on the second ring as you sit down to take off your heels, a gift given to you by your husband for your previous birthday.

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He lets out a sigh—he knows he’s in trouble now. “Yes, my lovely wife? My darling baby? My queen?” You can picture the face he’s making—as if he was performing aegyo for a fan.

“You know what you did,” you declare, firm and unrelenting.

“Hm, I don’t follow.”

Sighing, “I thought we agreed to start saving more? The vacation to Greece next year? Remember that, Seungcheol?”

You can tell from his voice that he’s pouting at your use of his full name, “Baby! C’mon, your mom and I were shopping today—“ 

Exclaiming in surprise, “You went out with my mom?”

“Yes, baby. We both were missing you, but that’s not the point.” 

You huff as he continues, “We saw this Prada bag and thought it would look great on you. It’s in your style and everything. You know I had to get it. Do you like it?”

You look up at the bag. It just so happens to be the bag you’ve had your eye on for a while now. A beat of silence among the two of you occurs before you reluctantly respond, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He laughs, “See? I told you so. Your Cheolie knows you well, huh? Stop being so cruel to me, love.”

You hum noncommittally, “Fine, but please, no more expensive purchases for me, I already have enough.”

Your husband lets out a chuckle, “Heh. Too late. Your mom and I found the cutest YSL shoes for you.” 

Exasperatedly, “Oh my gosh, Cheol.”

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

So, pack up your car, put a hand in your heart, sing what ever you feel, be wherever you are

We ain't angry at you love. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The pain of the neglected soul. Under the heavy mood lingering in the manor. An architectural design that screams wealth but is never wealthy with love and laughter. well, at least not to the second youngest child of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy, the most powerful man in Gotham City. Being a product of a mistake between an infamous prostitute and a well-known, almost "celebrity"-like man was not really an ideal life. Being shunned away by the woman who you call Mom, who's supposed to whisper sweet words to you and rock your fragile body back and forth to ease you of whatever you feel bad about, instead shoves you into the arms of an unknown man who's your supposed father. Yeah, that sucks.You've always adored your mom. Despite the horrible words she casually whispers to you - "you ruined me, kid"—you turn a blind eye to her actions and act deaf to her cruel words and instead pretend that she's the mom who loves you and adores you just as much as you do for her. Because it was better. It just was. Your brain can't really process the fact that your abusive mother can be abusive. No, not when she was the one who carried you for 273 days, birthed you, and gave you your name. A 5-year-old's brain can't possibly carry the thought of having that same woman hate you. So even when it was your birthday, you waited for her all day to come home and give you kisses and maybe a birthday cupcake or present. just for once, she comes home drunk, messy, and dizzy with a man on her arms while laughing feverishly. It crazy to think that was the most happiest you've seen her; she was always scowling when she was with you. Strange. Even so you greet her with a hug. "Momma, I've been waiting for you all day—" she cuts you off and tells you to get away from her and calls you this strange name "annoying" huh. Wonder what that means. And for the next hours you spend your birthday alone, in your bedroom. Awake and hungry. But it doesn't matter at least mom came home! Sometimes she doesn't even come home for a few days, but she came home today! That means she must love you. Only for a few days she stays at home with the strange man she brought home on the day of your birthday. It doesn't bother you, it was normal after all. She always do this and then after a few days the man's gone. Yeah, this is just temporary. You say as you clean the house full of dirty clothes and empty alcohol bottles. And then one night the strange man is yelling at your mom; screams filled the tiny apartment with smashing sounds of bottles echoing around the room. You're furious, and you want to defend the woman who you oh so lovingly call "mother" You push the man away, and it angers him. With his bloodshot eyes, he grabbed the bottle and smashed it at the side of your tiny head. You soon wake up in a large room with bright lights and thick white walls. Soon you find out that you're in a hospital; its so cool, it's the size of your living room! Maybe even bigger… Moments later you found out that your mother gave you up to some unknown man who is to be called your "father.". You thrash and scream against the nurse's hold and scream for your mommy, yet she never came.A strange man came and introduced himself. He said he was "Alfred" and said from now on he will take care of you. That's silly because no one in your entire life has had someone take care of you. Soon he drives you to a gloomy big house with lots of statues as Alfred proceeds to tell you that this will be your new home now. Different portraits adorn the walls, and shiny pottery and impressive works of art fill the house. Alfred soon introduced you to your father, Bruce Wayne. Now this is where it all starts. With your new home, hope sparked through your heart, and you believed that somehow, someway, maybe you'll be able to get the love that you have always longed for, yearned for, waited for.

Wrong.

Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, the most powerful man of Gotham, the heartthrob, the Batman, but never the father of y/n l/n. He doesn't even know you. Doesn't even try to acknowledge you and your hard work, desperate to try anything to make him pay attention to you. To give you the attention you crave and yearn for ever since you arrived at the comfort of his home. You weren't stupid. You knew who he was and his nightly activities. You understood. But what hurts was that despite this, he managed to give every. Single. One. Of his children, attention except you. Was it because you weren't like them? Was it because you didn't fight bad guys for a hobby? Or was it because he never deemed you worthy of his time? Why? Were all the things the kids and big adults whispered behind your back true? That you were a child of a whore and you were bound to become one too over a matter of time? Was it true you'll never compare to your siblings? Being compared to your siblings, who had so much talent and had their own special abilities that yours can't compare to, was draining—and partially true. Your little ballet classes can never impress bruce over his other children's combat skills, multilingual abilities, and genius calculations. And you learned to accept that over the years as you grew up.

Richard grayson, dick, the loving big brother, the family guy. Maybe he was a good guy. After all, he managed to acknowledge you for about 6 seconds one time! He even asked you about your ballet classes! Though that was only to distract his self before Damian came. Always the big brother and Lil brother duo! .. Despite being busy with being a full-time cop and a vigilante, he still makes time for family, the ones he considers as family. Not you, never you. Who were you kidding? Dick is the star of the show, and you're just another side character in his main character life! Just a plain, old, boring bystander. That's all you will ever be to little Richard Grayson's glam life story.

Jason todd was different. He was known as someone who was brutal and full of anger. So it was no problem for him to shove you and tell you off. He had no conscience in telling you to go away, and you liked that. You like the fact that at least he had the decency to not give you false hope. Jason todd hates you, and you know it. Jason todd is jealous of your normalcy and how oblivious you are to the danger of the world. In his eyes, you were his replacement; looking at you makes the green monster of envy crawl out of him and take his anger out on you. The way you are so vulnerable stirs something up inside of him, and he realizes that your eyes look just like his when he was full of wonder and innocence. It made him restless and irritated. It reminded him of his mistakes, foolishness, and those memories he buried deep inside his mind to save him from countless nightmares he desperately ran away from.

Timothy Drake, the genius Robin, the hero by choice, the prodigy son. You would be lying if you said that you weren't jealous of Tim at all. I mean, look at him! He's a genius, a hero, a heartthrob, and a role model to several youths of Gotham. He was exactly like Bruce, and I mean exactly like Bruce. His life revolved around solving crimes, fighting bad guys, acing all of his tests, and coffee. Anything was more important other than you. Sure! He has time to cuddle with his family for movie night (without you, of course) but never has the time to play video games with you. Everything seemed to send thrills to his veins and spark an interest in him except your very existence. If you were just a mere bystander in Dick's story, you weren't even in Tim's!

Cassandra. The girl of the family. You have always envied her. Not only was she the only girl of the family and doted on by every single one of your brothers, but you and she also shared the same interest. What's even more infuriating was that she didn't even have to try. She didn't have to beg countless times to have anyone attend her performances because they were all there. Even Jason, who hid in the shadows. They were all there to support her and show her the love you have always asked for, begged for. She swooned all of them with her dancing, and you can't help that maybe her hands are more gentle, maybe her feet are more pointed, maybe her posture is more straight than yours, maybe she's prettier than you, maybe she's more worth than you.

And finally. Damian al Ghul Wayne. The youngest son, the baby brother, the scarred child loved by his family. When Damian came into the manor, you were thrilled. You thought that maybe you and he could bond over the same trauma. Maybe finally someone can understand you.You thought wrong again. Damian thought you were weak and a disgrace to the bloodline of the Wayne family clan. He called you thousands of cruel names and insulted you whenever he had the chance to. He always belittled you and showed you no mercy, going as far as to drag the blade of his sword across your neck, drawing blood, just for him to cruelly laugh in your face and tell you that you are being dramatic. You forgave him. You were a good kid. Right? So why is it that a kid who made thousands of innocent lives bleed through his sword is sitting with his father—your father—on the couch, sleeping soundly on his chest? It's not fair.

They were never fair.

As Dick was checking the CCTV footage of the manor out of boredom, he managed to catch a glimpse of footage—about 2 weeks ago—of a person packing their bags and putting things from the manor into a box and leaving. It must be a thief! But that's impossible. The manor has many securities that even a skilled assassin could not pass through the gates; it's impossible. Unless…Dick took another glance at the footage and zoomed in on the screen and squinted his eyes. And for a second, his breath hitched and his heart pumped fast, his hand trembled, and his eyes dilated.

It can't be.

[verushkak70]

I understand what you're trying to do but in my experience it doesn't work

I've debunked literally hundreds of insane, factually & scientifically wrong crap a friend has been sending me off social media since the FIRST orange asshole campaign

It has not made a difference & I recently realized why (aside from, y'know, tens of thousands of Chinese & Russian social media bots gaming algorithms to inject false narratives into the mainstream to influence elections & democracy in multiple countries...)

It's because facts do not matter to him anymore

This is a belief system very much like religion - it might as well be religion

It is impervious to facts & science

Yet this is someone who I once considered highly intelligent & I still cannot understand how he's fallen for all of this except that, deep down, he must have either a hollow core, or a core of hate, that wants everyone else in the world to be as secretly miserable as he is (which I only know because I've known him for decades - since high school - casual observers would never say "this guy is miserable & self-loathing")

Objectively, on paper, he is intelligent or at least was intelligent & high scoring enough to get into Ivy League universities when we were graduating high school (he did not go to any tho; neither of us could afford such universities; we went to the state university that would take literally anyone, at the time, & from which you had to work at getting kicked out)

This was formerly a pro-choice, pro-porn, pro-drug guy who has drunk the Kool-aid - he's still pro-porn & pro-drug but suddenly in the past 2 years, as "throw it back to the states" became the propaganda on X (his favorite social media, ugh), he started saying it should be thrown back to the states

This from a guy who used to say - in his 20s, 30s, 40s - that abortion should be available on demand at drive thrus (which was hyperbole ofc; obvs you can't get one at an actual drive thru; it was the concept of fast & easy access he was championing)

As these right wing evangelical positions have trended on X, they have come up in his speech the past couple of years (really the past decade, but it accelerated like the speed of light once he moved from FB to the post-Musk Twitter/X)

Because I've known him for so long, I've been able to say, "Huh, you never used to say/believe that over the last 40 years... Why the change, & why now?"

& even that does not get him to realize his opinions are being deliberately shaped by propaganda

He will deny it or say "well I always kind of thought that way" & when I say "dude, you've never been shy of sharing your opinions, whether people wanted to hear them or not, especially if not! so why haven't you mentioned this change of opinion until after X became your main source of 'news'?"

That gets evasions & subject changes because the idea that he didn't come up with these ideas on his own is unacceptable

He will share literally fake news from X & when I ask, "OK, I get that you don't trust mainstream media, with good reason; or the government, with good reason; or the medical/scientific establishment, not without good reason; but you'll just believe anything some clown you don't know on the Internet - who could be anywhere in the world despite his "US Navy Vet" trucker hat - says, without question?"

& his response is always subject changes & attacks on mainstream media/government/politicians/parties but never an answer to the actual question because there is no rational explanation & he knows it

& if I call him on the subject changes, he just ratchets up the subject changes & attack rhetoric as if I'm one of those easily offended wilting liberal flowers he can steamroll, which I'm not & never have been, so it's interesting (if sad) that he thinks what works on other people will work on me

Or maybe he just doubles down because there IS no rational explanation, idk

This is seriously depressing me because this guy was my BFF for like the first 30 of our 40 year friendship - my older sisters would call him "our adopted little brother" - & I don't recognize him anymore

The only reason I continue to talk to him, really, is my oldest sister, who passed away a year ago in February, & was a big activist & organizer/coordinator of various (large) protests here, said "don't give up on him, don't fight or argue - just keep listening & questioning" because "he's a good egg"

& honestly he is, underneath all the sourball curmudgeon thorny exterior - the man has never not been there when I needed him & lots & lots of times when I didn't, just for fun

But this is becoming exhausting & I'm stressed out from not literally screaming "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!? WHERE IS MY FRIEND, YOU CRAZY POD PERSON WHO TOOK HIS PLACE??"

I'm sorry - I'm just venting, I guess

But please tell me how someone can maintain the cognitive dissonance of a high index of suspicion for the mainstream media, the government, & medicine/science, but not some Joe Blow clown on the Internet - as if somehow that guy (who's probably actually a Chinese or Russian bot) is telling the gospel truth & has a hidden mainline to the secrets of the universe

Because I can't understand it

I can understand it in people who've not had the privilege of university education (my friend has)

or international travel (my friend has, multiple times, with me & others)

or who never left the neighborhood or town where they grew up (my friend did as soon as he could)

I cannot understand it in my formerly skeptical & always shrewd friend

I honestly do not get it 😞

So many people do not understand the relationship between climate change and cold weather.

[insidekatmind]

Mission- Bucky Barnes

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The jet lands with a jolt on the deserted runway of a private island. Outside the window, palm trees sway in the breeze, and a pink sunset paints the horizon. There’s no time to appreciate it, though. You’re here for a mission, and it’s already off to a bad start.

“I can’t believe I have to do this with you,” scoffs Bucky Barnes, throwing you a look of pure disgust.

“The feeling is mutual,old man,” you reply through gritted teeth. Your name, Y/N, is printed on the fake passport you’re holding, but your real task is far more complicated than maintaining a false identity. The mission requires you and Bucky to pose as a happily married couple to infiltrate an exclusive gala hosted by an international arms dealer.

“Wasn’t there literally anyone else available?” he asks, shaking his head.

“We’re not here for sympathy, Barnes. You’re the only one with a shady enough past to avoid suspicion.”

He laughs, but without a shred of humor. “And you’re the only one who speaks enough languages to keep up with a crooked diplomat. Just don’t expect me to pretend I enjoy being here.”

“And don’t expect a hug from me,” you reply with an icy smile.

---

The villa assigned to the two of you is luxurious: white marble, designer furniture, and an ocean view that takes your breath away. Too bad the tension in the room is heavy enough to crush any promise of relaxation.

“There’s only one bed,” you say, pointing to the massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“Perfect,” Bucky replies, dropping his bag on the armchair nearby. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance. I need proper sleep for tomorrow night’s gala.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he says with a smirk. “I wouldn’t come near you even by accident.”

You finally decided to share a bed. You were wearing shorts and a tank top as you stared at the ceiling.

Bucky lies next to you, tense and unmoving. Even without looking at him, you can feel the distance between you both, like a chasm that can’t be crossed. Your eyes wander to the ceiling, tracing the pattern of shadows in the dim light. Finally, he breaks the silence.“Do you expect me to believe that you actually need sleep?” he mutters under his breath.

"What?" You ask, turning to him.Bucky doesn't turn to you, but his voice is still laced with sarcasm. "You heard me. I know you're used to pulling all-nighters for missions. You don't exactly act like the type to need a full eight hours to feel refreshed."

You look at him with a twinkle of sarcasm. "Well this time it's different, I'm on a mission with you and I have to put up with you, so I need sleep".

Bucky rolls over onto his side, finally facing you. “Oh, so I’m such a pain that I keep you awake now?” he says with a smirk. “Is this how you treat all the people you’ve ever worked with?”

"not just old men who think they are better than others" you reply looking at him.“Old man?” He repeats, sitting up on the bed. “You’re really calling me an old man? Aren’t you supposed to flatter your partner on these missions? Or is that just reserved for the men you actually like?” he jokes.

You roll your eyes ignoring him.Bucky doesn’t get ignored easily, though. He scoots his way towards you in the bed, his prosthetic arm brushing against your arm. “What, no smartass reply? I can’t believe I’ve finally managed to shut you up,” he teases, his voice low and quiet.

“Keep your hands or I'll turn your other arm into vibranium too,” you threaten.

Bucky holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m just trying to get a reaction out of you.” He scoots even closer, so that you can feel the heat of his body next to you. “And I think I’ve succeeded.”

“Very funny arm wrestling,” you say sarcastically.“You got plenty of jokes, huh?” Bucky replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans in a little closer, the distance between you almost vanishing. “You know, I can think of a better way to occupy that smart mouth of yours, princess.”

You turn and find yourself a little too close to him. "Oh really?" you say sarcastically.Bucky takes advantage of your proximity, invading your personal space even further. His face is inches from yours now, his breath dancing across your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, a hint of danger in his voice. “I’ve got some ideas….”

Bucky’s fingertips graze your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “I wonder if you’d be this sarcastic if I took away that smart mouth of yours.”He shifts his weight on the bed, pinning you against the sheets as he leans over you. He’s so close now that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

"What the hell are you doing?" You murmur, looking at him above you.Bucky smirks, relishing your surprise. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, his voice a low growl. His head dips down, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m testing a theory….”

Bucky's hands roam over your body, the metal one surprisingly gentle. “Tell me your theory,” you manage to gasp as his fingers tease the edge of your tank top.Bucky's lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “My theory is that your smart-ass mouth isn’t as tough as you think it is,” he whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “And I bet I could find a more entertaining use for it.”

“Your theory is wrong old men” you say.Bucky laughs at that, his chest rumbling against yours. “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he says, his hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt. “I’ve yet to see you speechless. I bet I could make you speechless. I bet I could make you forget every smartass comment you’ve ever thought and make you begging for more.”

“get your hands off me” you say looking at him.Bucky's hand stills, pressed flat against your stomach. “Is that what you really want?” he asks, his voice a low murmur. “Or are you just saying that because you’re too stubborn to admit you like my hands on you?”

"Why would I like it, hm?" You murmur, looking at him.Bucky grins above you, his eyes flicking down to your lips. “Oh, I think you do. I think you like me this close to you. I think you like the way my hand feels on your skin….”

His prosthetic hand travels up, pushing under your top until you can feel the cool metal against the skin of your stomach. “I think you’re just too stubborn to admit it,” he says, his voice a sultry whisper.

His fingers trace the edge of your bra through your shirt, a light touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “I think you’re struggling to keep hold of all those smartass comments, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “I think you’re about to lose your words completely.”

“fuck you” you blurt out looking at him.Bucky laughs, his voice a deep rumble. “Now that’s exactly the kind of dirty talk I like to hear,” he replies, enjoying your reaction. His hand slips down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “You know, you really should watch that mouth of yours, princess.”

You could feel his hardness touching you and you looked up at him. "You like this kinky game, yes?" you murmur.

Bucky’s smirk turns into a grin, his eyes darkening with want. “I like anything that gets a reaction out of you,” he replies, his hand roaming across your hip and up your thigh. “And you’ve been giving me quite the reaction.”

His hand slips under your top, his fingers splaying across your back. He pulls you closer to him, his hips grinding against yours. “But I have a feeling we could both have some more fun…”

You hold back a moan feeling his hardness more towards you.Bucky’s smirk only widens as he hears your stifled moan. “That’s more like it,” he says, his hand moving to the back of your neck. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to make a noise for me.”

"you won't get anything from me" he murmured not with the same certainty that characterizes you.Bucky laughs, his breath hot against your skin. “Oh, princess, I think you underestimate me,” he replies. “I’ll get you to make all sorts of pretty noises for me before the night is over.”

His lips find your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “And you can’t fool me,” he murmurs. “I can feel you shivering, I can hear your breathing getting rougher. You like this, don’t you? You like the way I’m touching you….”

His hand is roaming over your body, pushing your shirt higher over your stomach and your chest. “Go on,” he urges, his voice husky. “Say it. Tell me you like it when I touch you like this….”

“No, I don’t,” you say even as your sighs grow heavy.

Bucky laughs at your stubbornness, but there’s an edge to it. “Oh, princess, you’re a terrible liar,” he says, his hand moving to your waist. “I know you want this. I can feel it in the way you arch your back when I touch you. And I’m not going to stop until you stop pretending.”

His mouth is on your neck now, his teeth scraping against your skin. “Stop playing games, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me.”

You moan at the contact. “no, I don’t” you say in a tense voice.

Bucky’s smirk widens, his hand sliding up your leg. “Your moans don’t seem to agree with your words,” he murmurs. “I know you can’t resist me. I know you’re just as much of a mess under my touch as I am under yours….”

His hand moves farther north, slipping under the hem of your shorts. “Give in, princess,” he whispers, his voice a low growl. “Just say the words and I’m all yours….”

You closed your eyes trying not to give in but you could feel Bucky's hand playing with your thong.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you react to his touch. “There you go,” he murmurs, his fingers playing with the lace of your lingerie. “I know you’re close to breaking, isn’t that right? I know you’re just moments away from giving in…”

His thumb brushes against your most sensitive spot through the thin fabric, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Come on, princess, I want to hear you say it,” he says, his voice dripping with want. “I want to hear you admit that you want this as badly as I do…”

You moan at the touch and arch. “I hate you so much” you murmur.Bucky laughs huskily, feeling your body respond to his touch. “No, you don’t,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “You don’t hate me at all. You hate how much you want me…. How much you need me….”

His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, his hand edging them down your hips. “Admit it, princess,” he whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Admit that you want me as badly as I want you….” His hand moves to your inner thigh, his touch light and teasing. “Say the words,” he urges, his voice low and rough. “Say you want me, princess. Say you need me just as badly as I need you….”

You bit your lip to keep from giving in but it was very difficult, you were wavering and you just wanted him to give you pleasure.Bucky lets out a low curse as he feels you resist him. “You’re such a stubborn little thing,” he grumbles, his hand tightening on your thigh. “But I won’t let you keep up this act, princess. I’ll break you, it’s only a matter of time…. Just say the words, sweetheart….”

His fingers slide further up your thigh, edging up under your shorts. “Just a few words, princess,” he urges, his voice rough with want. “Just tell me you want me, and then I’ll give you what you need…”

You moan again but you don't want to give in. "No".Bucky curses again, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re so damn stubborn, princess,” he mutters, his voice tight with want. “But you’re also lying to yourself….”

Bucky finally leans down and kisses you passionately and hungrily.The kiss is almost violent, a clash of need and desperation. Bucky’s lips are hot against yours, his tongue seeking yours as he presses you into the sheets. He bites at your bottom lip, then leans back, his eyes dark with desire. “Say it, princess,” he growls, his hand still on your thigh. “Just say you want me….”

You moan and kiss him. Bucky laughs huskily, his hand moving up your body. “There we go, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for…”His lips move down to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there and causing you to gasp again. “Say it, princess,” he repeats, his hand finally moving up to cup your core. “Just tell me you want me….”

You moan at his words and surrender to him. "I want you".Bucky lets out a low growl of satisfaction as he hears your words. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his fingers trailing against your skin. “I knew you couldn’t resist me for long.”

He takes your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head. His body presses against yours, his weight holding you in place. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, princess?” he whispers in your ear, his breath hot and heavy.His hand slides down your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “But now that you’ve given in, I’m going to have some fun with you…” he murmurs, his voice dark with promise. “I’m going to make you scream for me…”

He kissed you again and put two fingers inside your panties and into your core making you moan into the kiss.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you arch against him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let it out. Let me hear how good I make you feel…”He moves his fingers slowly, finding a rhythm that makes you moan again. “I knew you’d feel good,” he whispers, his eyes dark with want. “

His fingers move a little faster, the pressure inside of you increasing. “But I bet I could make you feel even better…” he murmurs, his mouth moving down to your neck. “I bet I could make you scream for me".

“Bucky” you moan and arch once more.Bucky’s smirk is almost feral as he hears you moan his name. “There it is,” he mutters, his fingers working faster as they press deeper into you. “I knew you’d sound like that when you finally let yourself go…”

He bites at your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. “And I know I can make you moan louder, sweetheart… if you beg me right…”

His fingers move again, finding a place inside you that makes you gasp. “Beg me, princess,” he murmurs, his voice rough with lust. “Beg me to make you feel good. Beg me to give you what you need…”

You felt his fingers go faster and faster inside you and you could feel yourself getting close. “Please Bucky,” you murmur.Bucky grins at your words, his fingers moving even faster. “Please, what, princess?” he murmurs, his mouth moving to your ear. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do…”

“let me come please” You murmur moving your hips on his fingers.

Bucky grins at your pleading tone, his fingers finally getting the reaction he wanted. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You sound so pretty when you beg for me like that… so pretty when you ask for what you want…”

His fingers move a little faster, going deeper. “You’re so close, princess,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I can feel it. I can feel your body tensing up… begging for release…"

He moves his mouth back to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he presses his forehead against yours. “But you have to ask me nicely if you want it…” he mutters, his voice raw with need. “You have to beg me for what you need, princess…”

You whimper at his words. “please Bucky, I’m so close” you murmur.Bucky’s grin widens at your words, his fingers finally giving you what you’ve been craving. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he mutters, his touch rough yet still gentle with you. “You like it when I make you beg for it…”

“please” you murmur moaning feeling yourself getting closer and closer.Bucky’s fingers move a little faster at your words, his touch more insistent as he moves against you. “Almost there, princess, you’re so close,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “But I need you to say those magic words. I need you to beg me one more time…”

"Bucky please" you scream.Bucky grins at your scream, his fingers moving faster than ever inside you. “There it is, princess,” he mutters, breathing hard. “You sound so pretty when you scream my name… now let go for me, sweetheart."

You moan at his words and come on his fingers. “fuck” you murmur, closing your eyes in pleasure.Bucky let out a low growl as he feels you come on his fingers. “That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough with satisfaction. “That’s my good girl…”

He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean. “You taste so sweet,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust. “I knew you’d be sweet"

Bucky leans down, his body pressing against yours. “But I’m not done with you yet, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “Not even close…”

You look at him knowing you were in for a long night.

[midnite-c6]

Ok now do a trilogy to Thanos x Namgyus gf but make it a threesome 💔

okay 💓 was thinking of doing that in part 2 but i wanted to edge. LMAO.

previous : part 1 ! part 2 ! <3 thanos (choi su-bong) x namgyusgf!reader pt. 3 warnings: 18+, cheating, degradation, pwp, rough sex

ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆ with the back and forth of videos (of you getting fucked by them) being sent on both their phones, it turned into a competition of the two. to see who could make you feel better, but that was getting boring, the best solution is to just share! obviously.

nsfw below!! -> 🫶🏻

"you lying, cheating, slut." nam-gyu slips his cock from your pussy, before ramming it back in again, starting another rhythmic pace of his dick sliding in and out of you. your body was practically floating, having su-bong hold you up from the ground, with his hand tightly holding onto your hair. from this view, he could see you look up at him with cheeks stained with your mascara, how your makeup is ruined, and how you were taking him so well inside your mouth, just like the first time. "so fucking wet." nam-gyu would groan out, pointing out how easy it was to just slip in and out of you for hours. "damn it. one dick isn't enough for you, huh?" your eyes move from thanos' looking up at your boyfriend's. "your slutty dumb brain needs two cocks to fill her up so it's happy, am i correct?" he'd particularly thrust harder during the last sentence, you barely even heard what he said because you were too busy thinking of what he's doing to your cunt right now.

"she's just searchin' for the best." the one inside your mouth replied. you'd only choke against him as he forces himself deeper inside your throat. "fuck off." but nam-gyu couldn't lie, you were clenching him like crazy. he'd only let out a moan from that, spitting on your clit. that was the only sensation your clit had gotten, nam-gyu was ignoring it the whole night because you don't deserve to be pleased like that! now both your pussy and chin is dripping wet from their filthy juices and saliva.

su-bong would pull out of your mouth, giving it some kind of mercy, you can finally breathe the air around you, that was still a difficult task considering now every time nam-gyu pushes inside you, the head of his cock hits your g-spot so perfectly, you'd wonder if he's trying to impress you, that thanos was only second best compared to him, maybe that's why he was your boyfriend in the first place... thanos looks down at your pretty, fucked out face and laughs, "you're such a freak for liking this!" wow. he was one to talk. he then places his dick on your face, rubbing his leaking pre-cum to ruin your face even more. "damn .. even prettier like this, señorita." he just loves seeing your face covered in his sticky cum.. </3

"ma' bro, let me fuck her." nam-gyu stops his thrusts, though not bothering to look at su-bong. "urgh. no." thanos tilts his head to the side. "how about we fuck her both, at the same time?" "what. you're into anal?" "psh, what am i not into? but. both of us. inside her pretty cunt. you can take it, right?" he asks as he tugs on your hair, you were still only getting to calm down from all the thrusting.. "fuck no, dude! i don't want my dick touching yours!" clearly, nam-gyu wasn't high enough for this. "fuuck, man, don't think 'bout that shit, she'll scream ten times more. high risk, high reward. i've seen it in a porno." nam-gyu scoffs, "high risk, high reward my ass. don't care shit 'bout what you watch." nam-gyu was opposed to it.

but seeing you to become an absolute shaking, screaming mess? hell yea. now you're laid down on the rought cement floors of the office room inside club pentagon, your legs being spread wide open, nam-gyu's arm hooked to your left thigh as su-bong's to the right. nam-gyu was first to enter inside you, then you'd already start yelling how it was too much when su-bong starts to push himself in aswell, "su-bong! s-stop! stop!" nam-gyu would harshly slap your face. "no moanin' his name, only mine. got it?" you nodded, fuck was he strict. "yes, sir.." you'd whine out lazily. you were being stretched like crazy, you swear they'd rip you open right about now. thanos finally bottoms out inside you, your body was already shaking, even when they're not even moving. but oh you wished that they stayed that way. now you're moaning crazily, for sure everyone inside the club, even with the loud music could hear how much you were being fucked. they were both fast as fuck, not giving you any time to breathe at all, it was like a literal race. nam-gyu's veiny, ringed hands were wrapped around your neck, just to let you know he's in control. thankfully, su-bong would pay attention to your clit, with his thumb pressing hardly against the sensitive bud, maybe you could cum tonight.

that's how you'll spend the night, and many more nights, but right now they're determined to fill your womb with their cum mixed together, like true bestfriends.

phew guys i forgot to add plot this is all sex. damnn . gonna start becoming inactive again and WAY more slow with reqs 💔 i love journalism hahah.

[chancloud8]

Positive Surprise

Pairing: lee felix x reader

Word count: 1,3k

Tags: fluff, pregnancy

Summary: you and felix tell the boys there's a baby on the way

can be read as a standalone, but there's a part one where you find out you're pregnant; here

A week after your first ultrasound you invite the boys over for dinner and because it wasn’t unusual for you to do so, as they came over regularly to enjoy your cooking, no one suspected that something was up. 

When Chan and Jeongin are the first to arrive, the table is already set, soft music is playing in the background and the smell of lasagne baking in the oven fills the house. 

‘Something smells delicious,’ Chan says as he kisses your cheek in greeting. ‘Do you need any help?’ 

You shake your head and smile at him. ‘Nope, got it all covered Channie, go and relax.’ 

‘Is he sleeping?’ you whisper to Jeongin when Chan is out of ear shot. ‘He looks like he’s about to collapse.’ 

Jeongin sighs and pulls you in for a short hug. ‘Who knows.’

The arrival of Jisung and Minho distract you from worrying and you go through the greetings, hugs and declining help once more, ushering them towards the living room. You’ve just finished slicing up the bread and are putting the finishing touches on the salad when the last three arrive.  

Once they’re all in the living room with a soda, you and Felix quickly set up the surprise you have for them. You take away the plates you already put on the table and replace them with boxes, each with a handwritten name card. You got yourself and Felix a box as well so it wouldn’t give away that the gift comes from you. Inside each box you put a personalized romper, a mug, a package of baby wipes, a package of blue and pink candies and a baby t-shirt with the Stray Kids logo. 

‘You ready?’ you ask Felix when everything is in place.

You know the boys are going to be overjoyed, but nervous butterflies still fill your stomach when he nods. You interlace your fingers with his and lean up for a kiss. 

‘BOYS,’ you yell. ‘Come her for a second.’ 

It doesn’t take long before they fill up the kitchen one by one, all of them looking curious. No one has noticed the table yet, so you just smile and point towards it. 

‘Presents!!’ Jisung cheers, running around the table to find the one with his name. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin follow his example, but none of them open the box yet, even though you can basically see their fingers itching to rip off the tape and look inside. 

‘What’s this? Did one of our sponsors send us gifts?’ Chan asks. 

You shrug and find the box with your name. ‘It got delivered this afternoon, I thought you set it up because we’re all here tonight,’ you lie, only feeling slightly guilty when you see Chan’s confused face. 

‘Can we open it?’ Felix grins, playing along perfectly. 

Everyone looks at Chan, and Felix winks at you. You smile back at him and bring your hands up to gently rub your belly. You weren’t showing yet, but according to the app on your phone the baby was already the size of a strawberry. 

‘Okay, sure,’ Chan nods and as one everyone reaches for their box. 

‘Huh?’ a surprised sound leaves Changbin’s mouth as he’s the first to rip apart the top of the box. ‘Did we get new merch?’ 

‘Oh this is adorable,’ Jeongin coos and he holds up the tiny t-shirt with the Stray Kids logo for everyone to see. 

Gasps sound from every direction as they all agree how cute the tiny shirt is and it takes everything in you not to burst out in nervous giggles. 

‘Wait,’ Seungmin yells out then. 

Everyone stops to look at him and this time you do let out a giggle. Seungmin is holding the romper you had made for everyone. His says ‘My uncle is Seungmin from Stray Kids’ and there’s a little picture of his skzoo puppy underneath, looking up at the text. Everyone has one with their own name and animal. 

‘What is it?’ Minho asks, not being able to see what’s on the romper. 

‘Look at yours,’ Seungmin answers and then he looks at you with questioning eyes. 

You giggle again and nod, spurring him into action. He drops the romper and runs around the table to envelop you in a hug just as the room bursts into chaos. There’s screaming and yelling and suddenly you're hugged and touched from all sides while question after question gets thrown at your head. 

All you can do is laugh. 

You laugh and laugh until you’re crying, hugging every one of the members close to you as they congratulate you. The boys feel like family to you and having them know that you and Felix have a baby on the way makes it even more real. It feels complete somehow. 

When you notice Chan is crying you pull him close and cup his wet cheeks. ‘Why are you crying Channie?’ 

‘I’m just so happy for you guys,’ Chan sniffs, smiling through his tears. ‘We’re going to have a ninth member or actually, a tenth member.’ 

‘I’m not having twins,’ you grin up at him, wiping away his tears. 

‘He means that you’re out ninth, silly,’ Changbin speaks up from behind you. 

‘Yeah you’ve been for a while now. You’re family Y/N,’ Jeongin agrees. 

‘And so will baby Lee be,’ Hyunjin adds. 

‘You said so on the rompers, we’ll be their uncle,’ Minho nods. 

‘The mugs say so too,’ Jisung says, holding up his mug with ‘Promoted to Uncle’ printed on the side. 

‘I think Chan’s should have said Grandpa instead of Uncle,’ Seungmin grins, shoving Chan’s shoulder. 

Everyone laughs at that, but you can’t help but cry along with Chan again. The love you feel from these guys is something you’ve never experienced before meeting them. You truly feel a part of their family, their bond. 

Felix gently pulls you into his arms and presses a kiss on top of your head. 

‘I love you guys so much,’ you cry, reaching out for the others with one hand while the other grasps onto Felix his hoodie to keep him close.

‘We love you too, Y/N,’ Minho says, taking a hold of your fingers. 

All the others grab onto your hand, wrist and arm as well and for a while you just stand there, surrounded by your boys. Your family. 

‘This baby is going to be so loved,’ you whisper, leaning your head against Felix's chest. 

‘They already are, Angel,’ Felix smiles, kissing your temple again. 

The boys all nod and hum in agreement. 

‘Can I touch your belly?’ Hyunjin asks then, his voice soft and unsure as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask such a thing. 

You giggle. ‘I’m not showing yet, Jinnie, and the baby isn’t kicking yet either. It’s too early.’ 

‘Oh,’ Hyunjin looks down, clearly disappointed. 

‘How about this,’ you say, immediately missing his smile. ‘You’ll be the first, after Lix obviously, to know when he or she does start kicking and then you can touch my belly all you want.’ 

Felix huffs behind you. ‘Not all he wants, only whenever you're comfortable.’ 

‘He knows that,’ you say, rolling your eyes. ‘Right, Jinjin?’ 

Hyunjin nods, the smile back on his face. 

‘What about us?’ Chan pouts. ‘We want to feel the baby kick too.’ 

‘And you can,’ you laugh. ‘As long as all of you will get me whatever I’m craving during this pregnancy.’ 

Jisung drops down on one knee, his hand still holding onto your wrist. ‘At your service my lady.’ 

One by one they all follow his lead, even Felix and you know then, that whatever happens, you and your little bean will be okay and loved.

a/n: there was high demand for a part 2 where they told the boys hehe so I hope you enjoyed this <3

-

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @delulustardust @velvetskize @channiefever @luvbangchan @aalexyuuuhm @katsukis1wife @herpoetryprincess

[logoleptic-since-06]

It's Two-Faced, It's Too Late

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, College AU, Athlete!Toji Fushiguro, Hacker!Reader, Stalking, Crack, Profanity, Suggestive, Not Proofread

MDNI

<- Prev Part 2 Next ->

Toji checks his phone to see the time is exactly 7 PM, so here he is standing in front of your dorm room’s entrance just as you asked him to. He rings the bell and waits. A few seconds pass and the door opens by itself, revealing a dark room only lit by purple LED lights.

“Toji Fushiguro,” he hears a voice call. His eyes follow the sound to find you sitting in front of your computer setup, your back facing him.

“Y/N?” he asks as he steps in hesitantly. Once he does, the door closes and locks behind him automatically.

What have you made your room into?

You kick the chair next to yours before saying, “Sit.” And for the first time in his life, Toji feels as though he is the one being intimidated. He sits on the chair and finally sees your face when he feels his heart do something it has never done before. 

It skips a beat.

Toji clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Toji.”

You look like you’re suppressing a mocking smile. “I’m aware.”

“Right, so–”

“Give me your phone.”

Right on business, huh? Just the way he prefers anyways. Then why does he feel a pang of disappointment? Ignoring the confusion bubbling in his head, he unlocks his phone and gives it to you.

“Has this stalker ever called you?”

“No, they just send me texts from different numbers.”

“When did it start?” you ask as you begin to connect his phone to your PC.

“About two weeks ago.”

“And how frequently do you get these texts?”

“At first, I used to get one every day, but after a week of that had passed, I’ve been getting multiple texts a day.”

“Show me the texts.”

He hesitates.

“What?”

“Well, the texts are just them telling me where I currently am and sending me screenshots of the tape.”

“I genuinely don’t care about seeing anything explicit, if you have the courage to film it, you can show it to me. I’m helping.”

He opens each text one by one and shows them to you; and in the last one, you see that Toji had finally asked what they demanded to which they talked about him having to resign from the basketball team.

“Is it okay if I transfer data from your phone to my PC so I can work on this?”

“Do anything, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay then, just a second,” you say as you open a window on your computer that is completely unknown to Toji. He unintentionally stares at you in awe as you work on your craft like an expert. As he watches as you type in what he assumes are codes, he can’t help but feel impressed by your skills.

“So how come I’ve never seen you around campus before?” He breaks the silence.

Your eyes don’t divert from your screen when you answer. “Uhh, I attend most of my classes online, and I don’t really have that many friends that I hang out with.”

“Why do you attend your classes online if you’re already on campus?”

“Well, first of all, I have a job so time management can be a hassle. And most of my work is online anyways, I have everything on this PC that I can’t carry to my classes.”

“Right.”

You soon disconnect the cable from his phone and hand it back to him. “I will do a thorough check up on the data and reach out to you later, okay?”

“Sure, thanks, doll.”

“Fushiguro, I have access to your entire photo library along with your browser history. If you call me that one more time, I won’t just go through them but also leak every single one of your secrets.”

“You have my what? I thought by data you meant my phone bill history or some shit.”

“I had to take everything just in case.”

“Just in case of what, exactly?”

“Who knows?”

Wow, he is terrified of you. “So like, are you gonna go through my shit now?”

“I’ll go through whatever I need to go through in order to investigate. Nothing more, nothing less. Now leave.”

“But you–”

“Leave.”

“Fine, damn,” he snaps before stealing one last glance at your face and turning back.

Note: The writing feels very bland and that's definitely not because of my busy schedule (it totally is). Part 3 will be out tomorrow hopefully.

Tags: @linaaeatsfamilies @aseqan @corvid007 @sevensdigitalheaven @minkoq

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 5/7

summary: part 5 of the naive series baby!! you and mandy get some one on one time bc she’s going thru it until she sends you and hamzah off on an adventure of ur own ;)

contains: SFW and NSFW content… it’s going down.

w/c: 3.4k-ish

a/n: ik yall hate me atp but listen. listen. uhhh.. yk what just read it!

~

Hotel breakfast is really good. It's even better when you can be an annoying vacationer and sit in the dining hall to eat while wearing your pajamas. The dirty looks from the well-dressed staff does nothing to deter you from going to town on a plate of scrambled eggs and toast with assorted spreads. The one thing that is ruining your appetite, however, is your gloomy friend prodding her food with her fork.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you ask for what feels like the hundredth time that morning.

"Mhm."

Mandy continues moving her eggs around her plate and never taking a bite. She's been in a near catatonic state since last night. By the time you'd taken a shower and gotten unready, she'd already passed out in your bed without so much as an explanation as to what happened. You exhale loudly and she looks up.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

She drops her fork. "I think Martin is hiding something from me."

"Oh!" Your eyes widen and you try to look confused. "What makes you think that?"

"He's been acting so weird," she says, resting her elbows on the table and holding her head in her hands. "Even before we came on this trip... I don't know. Something's off."

"What d'you mean?"

"He's being so secretive," she says. "I don't have proof of anything, but he's, like, really bad at acting innocent."

"Is that why you guys have been fighting?"

"Well, I don't exactly want to fight with him!" She tosses her hands in the air. "I wish he'd come out and say whatever it is. It drives me crazy that he acts like nothing is going on."

In that moment, you consider blurting out the truth. Talking about Martin's proposal idea would be so much easier than sitting back and watching the couple get into trivial arguments from Mandy's growing paranoia. But alas, you've sworn to secrecy and you really don't think it would be your place to ruin the surprise, even at a time like this.

"Have you asked him about it?"

"Yeah. He just deflects. I thought I could get him to talk last night, but I ended up crying because I got so frustrated with his cryptic bullshit."

You're stuck on what to say. It breaks your heart to see Mandy like this, but there's not much you can do without giving away her soon-to-be fiancé's plan. It's not exactly a conversation you thought you'd be having to mediate.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Martin is doing all of this to deliberately hurt you," you say, reaching across the table to hold her arm. "He loves you. A lot. He's just an idiot sometimes."

Mandy smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you."

"I mean it, Mandy. What you guys have is really good. Don't let a bump in the road ruin the rest of the journey."

"When did you become such a beacon of wisdom?" she asks sarcastically, looking down at the table.

"I'm trying my best here. Be grateful." You begin to laugh and she joins in.

You bring your plate back in front of you and gesture for her to do the same. The two of you chow down and talk between bites, discussing what other places you could visit before your inevitable departure from Curaçao. Despite the challenges, it's been an experience for the books and you take a moment to reflect on the joy that it's brought you.

As you take a sip of your tea, your phone buzzes in your pocket. When you unlock it, you open up the message notification and bite your lip to hide your smile.

i see u

"Is that Hamzah?"

You look up at Mandy and your face flushes. "Huh?"

"You remind me of when I first started talking to Martin." Mandy points at you with her knife.

"Shut up," you groan. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Yeah." Mandy nods. "Plus I saw his name on your screen."

You glare at her and she giggles at your expense. Over her shoulder, you spot him. He's in the buffet line, also in his pajamas, and you stare for a little too long at his grey sweatpants. When he turns his head in your direction, you duck behind Mandy's figure.

"He's coming." You use your phone camera to quickly assess your face. "I look rough. Fuck."

"Girl, you look fine," Mandy says, rolling her eyes, "and you've literally slept next to each other. It's nothing he hasn't seen before."

"Wow, uplifting. Thanks."

When you dare to raise your head again, he's making his final few strides towards your table. You smile and wave, and he attempts to do the same. He shakes his hand that's holding a cup of coffee and it sloshes around, nearly spilling all over him. Mandy gives you a funny look before greeting him.

"Good morning," Hamzah says cheerily.

He places his plate and cup next to yours. You scoot over so he can sit down, but he moves to sit so close to you that the sides of your thighs are pressed up against each other.

"Good morning," you reply, slightly taken aback by his chipper mood. "Sleep well?"

"I slept great," he says. He takes a bite of his eggs with bacon and looks between you and Mandy. "So... was it a breakup?"

You slap him on the arm and scoff. "Come on."

"'M just asking!" he all but shouts, earning the three of you a couple more dirty looks. "Last night looked serious."

"No, we didn't break up," Mandy mutters. "But I'm considering it if it means not having to deal with you anymore."

"That's mean," Hamzah says, taking another bite of his food. "I'd stay friends with you if I broke up with Martin."

"Don't talk while you're chewing," Mandy warns.

"Thorry." He swallows his mouthful. "So what are we supposed to do if you guys are still fighting?"

"I don't know, Hamzah." Mandy sighs. Then she looks at you. "I don't really feel like going out today. Maybe you two could do something."

Your eyes narrow and she shrugs innocently. "Where would we go?"

"Google some nice places. Walk around the city. It can't be that hard."

"I'm down," Hamzah says. "I'm in charge of directions, though."

He smiles mischievously and you mock him, making him laugh. You turn to Mandy, noting the way she's picking at her food again.

"Will you be okay? You can stay in my room, but I don't know what time we'll be back."

"There's free WiFi and room service. I'll be fine. Go have fun."

Mandy was right. Finding something to do in such a tourism-centered area isn't hard. The difficult part is spending time with Hamzah with no social buffer to avert the tension between the two of you. You hope it's not too apparent that you're staring at him every chance you get, but you can't find it in you to care about getting caught anymore.

"Now we go left," he mumbles, placing his hand on your shoulder to direct you to the crosswalk.

You know he tends to be touchy with his friends, but with how awkward he usually is about it, this feels different. Even when you hung out as a group back in Toronto, you could always sense that Hamzah was a little more hesitant around you. You chocked it up to not knowing him that well, despite having mutuals. Being close with each others' friends did provide an entry point for your friendship to blossom, but this trip has done more for your connection than all the time you've known him previously. Maybe it's because you're in such constant, close proximity now that your initial attraction to him has finally taken shape, unavoidably so.

"Alright, it's down from here," Hamzah says, gesturing at the beach you're nearing.

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," you say, furrowing your brows.

"We're not swimming." He shakes his head. "Over there."

You look to where he's pointing and take notice of the mountainous landscape surrounding the beach. Their overarching coves reach the edges of the shore where the waves splash against the rocks.

"I'm not cliff diving. No way."

You stop in place and cross your arms. He turns and walks a few steps back to you.

"We're not doing that either, my gosh," he grumbles playfully and takes hold of your hand, "follow me."

Hamzah leads you through the sand to the bottom of the ridges. This beach isn't nearly as busy as the one near your hotel, so the silent walk with your palm in his feels all the more intimate. The sun is less harsh under the arch, but the sand is still warm beneath your feet. The soft earth easily gives way as you take a seat in the deeper parts of the rocky expanse.

"How'd you know this was here?" you wonder.

"I found it before the trip," he says, stretching his legs out in front of him until the waves are barely licking at his skin. "I didn't think I'd get the chance to visit, though."

"Guess it's a good thing for the fight then," you joke. Hamzah looks at you with his face scrunched up and you share a laugh. "Sorry. Too soon."

You stare out at the horizon, absentmindedly cupping the sand and letting it pour down between your fingers. The waves are crashing, but there's a quiet serenity inside of the cove that makes you feel at peace.

"Nah, I just think we talk about them enough, right?" He leans back to rest his weight on his palms and your eyes flicker to the sight of his shirt stretching across his pecs. "Wanna talk about us."

"Right," you agree. "I never really expected this."

"What?" he asks. You become aware of how close his body is to yours.

"'Us.'" You make quotes in the air with your fingers. "I didn't even think you saw me that way."

"Really?" he questions, tilting his head. "I thought the same thing."

"Hm. Funny."

You move to lay on your back. You'd decided against changing out of your pajamas—the two of you look infinitely more out of place in such beautiful scenery—but it makes for great cushioning against the ground. Hamzah stays unmoving, looking straight ahead.

"Do you see us being the same way? When we go back home?" He speaks outwardly, eyes on the view.

"I don't know. Do you?"

"You answer first," he says, smiling at you from over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and try to push yourself further into the sand, as if it'll provide a protective barrier between him and the words you're going to say next.

"I hope so," you answer honestly. "I don't see why it’d change."

"What if it doesn't feel the same?" he asks like he's talking to the sky. "What if it's just because we're here, y'know? Isn't it usually a 'what happens in Vegas' thing?"

"Oh, so you've done this before?"

Hamzah groans and you snicker, flicking sand into his pocket. He doesn't notice so you continue until it's full, giggling to yourself.

"Of course not," he says, shaking his head. Some of the sand trickles out. "I guess what I'm saying is...I hope you don't feel that way."

You take a deep breath to calm the butterflies that erupt in your belly and sit up. You look at the impression your body has left in the sand before turning to completely face him, criss-crossing your legs.

"I won't," you promise. "I couldn't."

"Good." Hamzah's eyes finally meet yours. "I don't think I'd be able to handle it."

You grin and let your fingers trail up the side of his neck, not wanting to hold your affection back any longer. He closes his eyes as you trace his cheek, the charming acne scars and slight stubble on his jaw acting as a roadmap for your fingertips. Then, you cup his chin and lean in. His lips move softly against yours. He places his hands on your thighs and runs his fingers across your bare skin where your shorts have ridden up. It's almost like the whole world goes on mute, and all you can possibly focus on is the way his touch awakens every cell in your body.

Without breaking the kiss, Hamzah pushes you down into the indented sand until he can comfortably slot himself in the middle of your legs. He holds himself up with a hand by your head, the other resting on your waist. The gentle caresses turn heated, and pretty soon the two of you are full-on making out, pulling each other closer and closer until his body fully surrounds yours. You love how he hums when you wrap your arms tighter around his neck and run your nails across his shoulders.

You can't get enough of him, holding his hips in place with your knees as your tongues entwine. When his hand strays below your hoodie, you pull away momentarily to slip it over your head. He helps tug it off you when it gets stuck, the two of you giggling quietly before tossing it away and locking lips again. His fingers trace a path up your torso, clad in nothing but a thin tank top. His palms slowly find their way higher up, and you moan when he gives your chest a testing squeeze. Upon hearing this, he squeezes again before running his thumb across your nipple, making you shiver.

His hoodie comes off soon thereafter, except he's completely bare underneath. You run your hands down his chest and his stomach clenches under the ghost of your touch. When you reach the edge of his boxers, he breaks apart to leave kisses from your cheek down to your neck.

"I-I didn't really prepare for this," Hamzah whispers against you.

"You didn't shave?"

"No, idiot," he scoffs, making both of you giggle giddily. "I, um, didn't bring condoms..."

You breathe out as he continues kissing your skin. "That's fine. We don't have to do anything."

Your fingers are tucked in his waistband against his happy trail, but you make no effort to move them. If it wasn't evident already, his erection presses against you painfully, a reminder of how close yet so far you are from what you're craving. Still, he seems determined to make the most of the moment. He sucks on the spot below your ear, making your mouth drop open in a breathy moan.

In a hasty decision, you take your tank top off and lay back down. Hamzah's eyes follow along your newly exposed skin and he leans down to kiss a trail from your collarbone to the valley between your breasts. His hands leave a wake of heat everywhere he touches you, yet goosebumps rise on your arms when his lips reach your lower stomach.

"Can I?"

He looks up at you, his eyes half-lidded and his hands on your shorts. You nod and raise your hips so he can pull them off. When he sees your underwear, he raises an eyebrow.

"You wear boxers, too?" Hamzah jokes, tugging on your waistband and letting it snap against your skin. You flinch and he laughs.

"They're comfy!" you defend, blushing. "I wasn't exactly planning for this, either."

"I'm kidding. Why would I care?" He leans up on his forearms to peck your lips. "They're coming off, anyway."

He reaches under your final layer of clothing and you gasp when he touches you where you need him most. His lips part as he dips into your wetness, bringing it up to circle your clit deliciously. You grasp his bicep and your other hand holds the back of his head as he continues his delightful assault on your throat.

When you feel his fingers inch into you, your hips jut forward. He whispers praises in your ear as he fucks his fingers into you, first slowly then relentlessly. You can't contain your moans. Your fingers tug at his curls lightly when you feel the knot in your stomach forming. All too suddenly, he pulls his hand out of your underwear and you whine.

"As much as I like 'em, they gotta go," Hamzah says, leaving one final kiss on your jaw before dragging your boxers down your hips.

He flings them aside and you breathe heavily as he descends to your lower body, situating his head between your legs. He plants kisses on the inside of your thigh teasingly, dipping his head down only to start back at the top with the other thigh until he has you squirming under his grip. Just when you think you've reached your limit, he bites at the swell of your thigh and connects his mouth to your core. Your lungs spasm as you feel his tongue flick your clit, struggling to catch your breath at the surreal sensation.

He sucks on your bud and has you a complete mess of moans under him. Loosening his grip from your thigh, he makes eye contact with you as he brings his hand back to your center and his fingers penetrate you steadily. Your back arches and he groans when you clutch at his hair. He suctions his lips, watching every reaction and noise you emit without once coming up for air. It's a dizzying sight, and your head lolls to the side as your moans get louder. He works harder, curling his fingers, toying with you in all the right ways to make you fall apart.

"Just like that," you cry out, "Hamzah, please."

You're panting at this point, yearning for a release that's sure to send you reeling.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs. "Cum for me."

The quickening of his pace has you clenching around his fingers, and as soon as he speaks those words, you screw your eyes shut and let your climax overtake you. Your jaw slackens and you throw your head back. Your legs shake uncontrollably as you call his name out in broken gasps while you ride out your high. The scent of saltwater and moss fills your nostrils, and all at once your vision clears when he lightly kisses your sensitivity. You sharply inhale and white-knuckle the sand below you. Your other hand wraps around the side of his neck to hoist him back up so you can be face-to-face.

Hamzah's arms cage you in and you pull him down to lock lips. He tastes sweet. Then, he rolls the two of you over so you're sitting in his lap while he lays flat.

"All good?" he asks, holding your cheek.

"Perfect."

You lean in to kiss him again, propping your hands on his chest. Teasingly, you grind your hips against his and he groans.

"Stop," Hamzah grunts. "I don't wanna cum in my pants."

The friction makes you shudder, but feeling how hard he is makes you not want to stop. You laugh and do it again, making him squeeze your hips. He halts your movements and grins, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"That's it."

Without warning, he sits up and you wrap your legs around him, latching onto him like a koala as he stands straight. The swift switch in positions makes you squeal. His palms cup your ass as he walks out from underneath the cove.

"What're you doing?!" you screech, clutching him as tight as you can.

"I asked nicely and you didn't listen!"

He cackles maniacally as he wades deeper into the water. When you're up to your hips in the waves, he turns backwards and sends the both of you plunging into the ocean. In an instant, you're soaked to your bones and springing up to the surface.

"You bitch!" you nearly scream as he re-emerges beside you. "I'm butt-ass naked!"

"No one's here, don't worry," he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. "Look. Just us."

Hamzah lifts you in the water and swings you around to show you the entirety of the vacant beach. He's laughing above you while you smack his arms to let you go.

"Okay, I get it! Put me down."

You plummet into the depths once more.

~

a/n: sorry to disappoint w the lateness again this would’ve been updated sooner if california didn’t literally go up in flames around me and half my roof tiles got ripped off my house from the crazy ass wind (another one flew off as i typed this). also my dumbass friend deleted tiktok off his phone and we lost our 231 day streak bc he can’t get it back no matter what we tried. also elon did the hitler salute?????? what is going on. anyways lmk if u enjoyed or want me to rot for eternity <3 love yall sm

[rie-092]

hihi!! can i get prompt ["Tainted Love" (Soft Cell) Once I ran to you, now I run from you.] for ijekiel alpheus? also i hope your writing and yourself keep thriving!!

EVENT'S ENTRY OO6 : TAINTED LOVE

[ yandere! ijekiel alpheus ]

note: the event ←⁠(⁠>⁠▽⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

ijekiel alpheus was always been the smart and level-headed one. atleast that's what he thought until he met you, his father's ward.

the unknown child that his father brought in the alpheus estate.

he said that you were his late friend's daughter. but he doubt that since aside from being his late friend's daughter, his father refuse to tell him any information about you.

and he noted that you're really affectionate when it comes to jennette.

that's how ijekiel's curiousity worsens.

this guy was really determined to uncover the mystery behind your real identity. that's why he started observing you. he started noting your favorite food, flowers, colors, etc.

and seeing that this won't get him anywhere, he started stalking you. and going on your room, looking for some clues whenever you were hanging out with your friends.

ah, he know this is wrong but he was at the point of no turning back. because he started to became obsessed of your real identity.

and the fact that you play along with him didn't help his obsession at all. you only made it worse, stupid.

but at the same time, the doubt inside him started to disappear. well, that's until anastacius, the previous emperor appeared.

and it was revealed that you were jennette's older sister and anastacius heir. and you only used the alpheus dukedom so that you will be able to help your father achieve his goal.

and what is ijekiel's reaction about this? sure, he felt betrayed. since he was starting to trust you and your intentions. but at the same time, this..... excites him.

he doesn't know what's wrong with him. but everything about your betrayal excites him. the time where he confronted you, and the time you hesitated to use your black magic to kill him— he realized the effect that he has to you.

adorable, you're really adorable.

and so, when you and the previous emperor got caught. he basically begged athanasia and claude to give you to him. and when athanasia asked him what will he do to you, he started to spout some bullshit. surprisingly, athanasia agreed and claude— he really didn't care so he just let his daughter to decide.

and after a few years. there's a rumor about duke alpheus (ijekiel) getting married. yet, the mysterious duchess never appeared in the public eye because of her poor health.

and who's the person behind those rumors? well, it was ijekiel himself. because he want everyone to be curious about you just like he did.

so you better stay still now, love. because sure, ijekiel was really soft when it comes to you. but, you see.... your betrayal changed him and his personality a little. so if you don't want to add the little cute collar that suppress your mana (that he bedrugingly asked lucas to make) in your neck, listen to him, will ya?

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

“ huh? you want to run away from me? now, that's not fair, love. you will leave me when you were the main reason why i became like this? ”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Try, Try, Try 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics including adultery and trying to conceive. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: husband!Andy Barber, friend!Thor

masterlist - to be added

Summary: your husband puts high expectations on you but you don't think you'll ever be enough for him.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A single line. Negative. You cringe as you hold the plastic stick over the bin in disappointment. There’s a knock at the door. 

“Well,” Andy’s voice rumbles through. 

You drop the test into the garbage and exhale softly, “not this time.” 

You crank on the faucet and rinse off your hands. The door opens from the other side and Andy meets your eye in the mirror. You can see the same disappointment in him. He even looks angry. 

“You been taking your vitamins?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod to the pillow box, each day a separate compartment, filled with the multicolor tablets. “I’m off coffee finally. No drinking. I gave Lisa a bunch of wine.” 

Your husband sighs, “you were ovulating. You said so.” 

“Andy,” you shrug. “It just takes time.” 

“Three years,” he says. “Yeah, a long time.” 

You wince at his disapproval. You shut off the tap and dry your hands. “I know. I’m trying.” 

“We’re both trying,” he insists. “Even on the days I’m tired, from working, when all I wanna do is nothing, I try. All according to your calendar. Are you sure you’re doing it right?” 

“What?” You face him. “Yeah, it’s an app and the tests--” 

“I don’t know. Maybe you aren’t trying as hard as me. Or maybe you’re hiding something.” 

His accusation is like a slap in the face. You blink furiously and shake your head, “what are you saying?” 

“You went to the OBGYN last week. How do I know you didn’t get pills? Or an insert?” 

“Huh?” You grimace. You got your IUD out the month before the wedding; because he asked. It wasn’t fun or easy. “Why--” 

“Cold feet? I mean, you leave dishes in the sink, maybe you’re not ready for a kid.” 

Your lashes flutter as your eyes burn. You leave a glass or two in the sink but the place isn’t a sty. You heave and swallow down the hurt. He’s frustrated. That’s it. 

“I’m ready. I’ve been just as ready as you,” you croak. 

“Hm, well, maybe you should book another appointment. Get a referral and figure out what’s wrong with you.” 

“What’s wrong--” 

“There are options. In vitro. Surrogate,” he crosses his arms and leans on the door frame, “I’m not getting any younger. Neither are you.” 

You want to say that it could be him. That you’re not necessarily the problem but you can’t be entirely sure of that. You sniffle, “Andy, I want it just as bad. I understand that it’s hard but you don’t have to be mean.” 

“Cecilia and Mark started trying last year and she’s about to pop,” he retorts. “And Timothy, he’s older than I am and he’s got twins.” 

“Andy,” you plead. “You’re acting like this is some conspiracy.” 

He looks away as if to suggest that’s possible. You stagger with hurt. His mom always accused you of being a gold digger. Does he believe you? He’s the one who told you to quit your job and stay home. 

He clears his throat and his eyes flick over sharply, “almost forgot. Found a cooking course for you. Down at the Elmwood.” 

“A cooking... what?” 

“Mom suggested it. Said it could help with everything. Make it more manageable if you know what you’re doing.” He drops his hands to his hips. 

“But... you like my cooking.” 

“Honey, you cook out of cans and the freezer. It’s something but if we’re going to have a little one, you need to start making more organic meals. Processed foods are awful, especially if you’re going to be breastfeeding,” he girds. 

Your heart sinks even further. You just can’t do anything right. Not since he put that ring on your finger. You’ve let him down in so many ways. You can’t give him a baby, you can’t cook what he likes, and last night he said you were too dry. Not your fault when he doesn’t offer any foreplay. 

“It will be fun too,” he offers. “I’m sure you’ll make some friends. Maybe some who can give you good advice... moms.” 

You restrain the flinch and nod. “Sure, probably will be. I guess... learning new things is good.” 

“Sure it will be, honey,” he shoves away from the wall and comes closer. “Look, it’s not that bad, alright?” He brushes his hand over your hip and along your lower back. He turns you to face him, “we can try again. Before work?” 

He pulls you against him and you have to resist tearing away. You’re not mad. You’re hurt. Why can’t he ever tell you what you do right? 

“Sure,” you run your hands up his white tee shirt. 

“Mm, when’s the last time we were spontaneous?” He purrs as his attitude shifts entirely. “Come on, get on the counter. Just like old times.” 

Your cheeks sear at the memory. When you were his law clerk, it was so exciting. Your little rendezvous, the under the desk fun. Now it’s so much pressure. Now he really feels like your boss. 

He backs you up and you brace the counter. He helps you up and pushes between your knees. You gasp as he steps between them and pulls down the straps of your nightie. A shiver speckles goosebumps across your chest as he bends to bury his face. 

You clasp the back of his head as he fondles one tit in his hand and latches onto the other. He groans as he teethes at you and sucks as he pulls back, stretching your nipple until it pops free. He looks up at you and purrs. 

“You know, when you’re expecting, those are gonna be bigger,” he stands and you hide your disappointment. No foreplay. Again. “I can’t wait.” 

He spreads your knees and pulls you so your pelvis is curled. He pushes down the elastic of his boxers as he slides you closer to the edge. He grabs your shoulder, pushing you back against the mirror as he guides himself along your cunt. 

He growls as he pushes inside of you, rocking until he finds his way in. He grunts and snaps his hips as you whine. It scrapes dryly as you’re unprepared for his suddenness. You brace his forearm and grit down on the pain. 

“You’re dry again,” he snarls and thrusts. 

You rasp, “sorry, I’m trying.” 

You reach down to your clit and he swats your hand away. He snags your wrists and brings them above your head. He pins them to the mirror and rams in harder. You whimper and curl your legs around him. 

“Ah, Andy--” 

“Yeah, you like it, don’t you? Like how big I am?” He pounds into you without patient. “Want me to fill you up, don’t you?” 

You gulp and gasp around his raw intrusion. He squeezes your wrists until your fingers throb and you notice how he watches himself in the mirror, almost entirely unconcerned with your presence. You turn your head down and bite your lip as he uses you. You just need him to get off and then you can go cook him a breakfast he won’t he even like. 

[enemiestolovershoe]

Backstage Comfort

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Noah takes care of reader while being on her period. Matt and Folio wouldn’t be Matt and Folio when they wouldn’t tease Noah.

Words: 798

Warnings: Period and Cramps, Teasing

A/N: This was requested but I somehow deleted the request. I wrote another version of this with just reader and Noah. Click here.

The backstage area of the venue buzzed with pre-show energy. The hum of amplifiers being tested, the shuffle of crew members setting up, and the distant roar of an excited crowd all blended into a chaotic symphony. Normally, you thrived in this environment, feeding off the adrenaline of watching Noah and the rest of Bad Omens prepare for another killer performance. But today, you weren’t feeling quite as enthusiastic.

You sat curled up on a couch in the corner of the green room, clutching a small pillow to your stomach. The ache in your abdomen hadn’t eased all day, and no amount of ibuprofen or deep breathing seemed to help.

Noah walked in from the hallway, dressed in his signature all-black outfit. His dark eyes scanned the room, immediately landing on you. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with concern as he crossed the room in a few long strides. “You okay?”

You managed a weak smile. “Just cramps. I’ll be fine.”

Noah frowned, crouching in front of you so he could meet your eyes. “You don’t look fine.”

“It’s just one of those days,” you admitted. “Don’t worry about me. You have a show to get ready for.”

“Yeah, well, you’re more important than the show,” he said simply, his brow furrowed. “What do you need? Food? Tea? Heating pad?”

Your heart melted a little at how quickly he shifted into caretaker mode. “I don’t think they have a heating pad in the green room,” you said with a small laugh.

“Then I’ll improvise.” He stood up, glancing around the room.

At that moment, Matt walked in, clipboard in hand and his headset slightly askew. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and teasing. “Why’s Noah looking like a guy on a mission?”

“She’s got cramps,” Noah said without missing a beat, turning to Matt. “Do we have anything warm she can use? Like a towel or something?”

Matt’s mouth quirked into a smirk. “Look at you, Dr. Caregiver. You thinking of adding ‘period expert’ to your résumé?”

Noah shot him a flat look. “Are you going to help, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Matt replied, his grin widening. “But mostly jokes.” He turned to you, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You sure you’re okay? He’s not being too overbearing, is he?”

You smiled despite the ache in your stomach. “No, he’s perfect.”

“Perfectly whipped,” Matt muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from Noah.

Folio wandered in next, a drumstick twirling lazily between his fingers. “What’s going on? Why’s Noah looking like someone kicked his puppy?”

“He’s trying to MacGyver a heating pad,” Matt explained, clearly enjoying himself.

Folio raised an eyebrow. “So, full boyfriend mode, huh? Let me guess—he’s already planning a tea ceremony and a hot towel spa experience for you.”

You chuckled at their antics while Noah groaned. “You two are so helpful,” he said dryly, heading out of the room.

“Always,” Matt called after him, winking at you.

When Noah returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a warm towel and a bottle of water. He placed the towel gently over your stomach, adjusting it with care. “Better?” he asked, sitting beside you.

“Much better,” you said softly, leaning into him.

“Need anything else? Tea? Snacks? Ice cream?”

“You’ve already done enough,” you replied, touched by his efforts.

“Too bad. I’m not stopping.”

Matt, who had taken up residence on the couch across from you, grinned. “You’re really setting the bar here, man. How’re the rest of us supposed to compete with this level of dedication?”

“You’re not,” Noah replied without missing a beat.

Folio snorted. “Okay, but if she starts expecting this every time, we’re blaming you for creating unrealistic standards.”

Noah smirked. “Good. You should all take notes.”

Despite their teasing, Matt and Folio made themselves useful, making sure the crew left you alone and bringing over a blanket they found in the equipment closet. Between Noah’s warmth and their lighthearted banter, the ache in your stomach seemed just a little easier to bear.

When it was finally time for the show, you felt well enough to join the crew at the side of the stage. Matt gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up as you took your spot, while Folio leaned over and muttered, “Let us know if Nurse Noah slacks off.”

Noah rolled his eyes, but his arm slipped protectively around your waist as he glanced down. “You good?” he asked quietly.

“Perfect,” you said, smiling up at him.

And as the lights dimmed and the first chords rang out, you couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for Noah, but for the ridiculous, wonderful team around you who made even the worst days bearable.

Taglist: @courta13

[gotham-daydreams]

Suspicions

Day 3 {Challenge Masterlist}

Getting close, but not close enough. Something's wrong here. How could they have known? Who did this?

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only briefly talked about in dialog), cults, occult like acctivites, weird behavior (?), arson (sort of).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

------------

Unlike the previous two days, this one starts off rather eventful - which is honestly more common and normal than anyone in the Wayne family liked to admit, but really, it wasn’t their fault they all just worked better in chaos. Nevertheless, for those that weren’t up already, the day is smooth sailing until they exit their rooms - or wherever they slept - and are left to find what’s happened in the batcave.

Tim is one of the last to find out, as he just gets his slow morning started - grabbing a cup of tea to help him wake up instead of coffee, rubbing his eyes to get the tiredness out of them, and starting things off officially with a plate of breakfast. Once that’s done and out of the way, he finally gives himself a good, simple stretch before heading down to the batcave. It’s only there, does he see the mess unfolding.

It’s subtle, sure, but with how long Tim has technically been a Wayne, well, he can tell when something’s going on. Bruce is drinking coffee, and Cassandra, while out of the suit, already looks to be itching to put it back on again. Tim noticed that Stephanie had slept over while he was on his way to the kitchen earlier, but didn’t think much about it - though what caught his attention was the fact that not only was Jason here, but that he was awake. Huh.

“What’s going on here?” Tim asks, voice having its usual echo as he takes a sip of his tea, approaching the little crowd by the batcomputer - taking note of Barbara’s presence as well, have any of them slept?

Cassandra seems to take note of him first, and perks up, though just as she goes to supposedly explain what they’re doing, Jason cuts her off. Instead, he straightens himself out, and asks, “Hey, have you or any of your birds seen anyone weird around, lately? Like, extra shady or just new? Like they come from out of the city?”

Tim raises a brow at the question, “This is Gotham? Every other person looks like someone shady- and what does ‘extra shady’ even mean? And besides, Gotham is a big city, newcomers come in and out everyday,” he points out, and though his response only gets an annoyed groan out of Jason, he can’t help but remain curious, “why? What’s going on this time?”

Jason seems to ignore Tim’s own question, and instead asks, “Okay, have you seen anyone with some weird symbol on them? Something simple that represents a sun, maybe on their neck, wrists, arm, or just some exposed part of their body?”

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Just as Jason looks like he’s going to throw something, or someone, Tim adds, “but I think a few of the birds have, and- hey, some new officers came in from Metropolis, right? What’s up with that?”

Just as Jason goes to open his mouth again, Cassandra gives him a nudge, and gestures for Tim to come over.

From there, he’s given the gist, and he has the reasonable reaction of just, being confused. While he understands what’s going on, what he doesn’t get is the supposed group itself. While they do seem to be working towards this ‘Red Dawn’, is it something they’re working towards, or merely preparing for? Is there something on that specific day that will happen, and will allow… well, whatever they’re hoping for, to happen? There are a lot of things that are undetermined, but Tim is on board with the general goal - they have to learn more about these people, what they want, and put a stop to it since it has to be something bad that people are killing themselves over it. You were right when you said that the only people they were hurting were themselves, but they were still people, and what if their influence spreads? What if they rope in more people, only for them to die-

Duke rushes into the cave, a smile of sorts on his face and he hurries around the space, gathering a few things here and there - mostly his gear, but some other things too - quickly, as if in a hurry. It was hard not to notice, seeing as he was the only real movement going on in the room and it drew the attention of those at the computer. Tim was the first to question it, asking, “What’s the rush?”

“Patrol!” It was an easy enough answer, but something felt off about it, though Tim couldn’t put a finger on it - no one really could, but those that were paying more attention did notice something.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” Barbara points out, and Duke pauses, chuckling briefly before grabbing his helmet.

“Right- thanks! Anyway, gotta go-!” With that, the young vigilante rushes out of the cave after hurriedly putting on his suit and gear. A few of those in the cave stare, raising a couple of brows or just looking confused before ultimately returning to what they were doing – even if such a sight weirded them out. Cassandra, however, couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the sight as she watched Duke rush out of the cave.

He seemed… really excited to be going on patrol… hm.

Duke could hardly focus on where his feet were going as he rushed out of the house, a warm sort of feeling blooming in his chest as he made his way out of the cave, and through the front door – nearly bumping into someone on the way out. Even if he was able to just barely move out of the way, a quick, “Sorry! I’ve really got to go, Selina!” Leaves him, the words tumbling out of his mouth like how he almost trips over the single step in front of the door. Leaving behind a confused but amused catwoman all the while.

Getting to the city is easy enough, and even more so with a small tug in his chest seemingly guiding Duke somewhere. Does he know where? Not particularly, but he can’t help but have a good feeling about this.

Dropping down in an alley, Duke peaks around a corner to get a glimpse of the city before slipping out – only to bump into someone… somehow.

Shaking it off, he goes to say something – only to stop himself when he sees who it is, what a coincidence. “Oh, [Last Name], what’re you doing here?”

You glance over your shoulder, and raise your brow at the sight of the teenager, “Grabbing breakfast? Why else would I be waiting in line at this breakfast spot?” A small, amused chuckle escapes you as you offer a hand to help him up, and it’s only then that Duke notices he fell at all.

“Oh! Yeah, that… um, makes sense?” Grasping your hand, he pulls himself up and glances to the side awkwardly. This wasn’t very professional, was it? As a vigilante, he was supposed to be better than this – and more, well, vigilant! He had to get it together, he couldn’t embarrass himself in front of you!

Clearing his throat, Duke meets your eyes once again, “Seems like things are busy here, huh?” Just what the hell was he trying to do? Duke couldn’t understand – he had patrol to do, he couldn’t just sit here and make small talk-

“I guess you could say that, it does seem busier than it has been the last few days, but nevermind that- what’re you doing here, Thomas?” Your grip loosens on his hand, but Duke can’t find it in himself to let go. Not after what you just said, and so casually at that – like knowing his secret identity was common knowledge and not, well, secret!

Duke’s mind races, with him staring at you like your face alone will provide all the answers, and in the midst of his disbelief, a breathless, stunned, “What?” Slips past his lips, and your brows seem to furrow.

“Is something wrong, Thomas-?”

“How-” Duke can barely even speak, his eyes blown wide. He wants to pull away, but it’s like your hand is the only thing keeping him grounded – making him almost hate how real it feels, especially as his hold tightens. With him now grasping onto it like he’s both afraid to let go, and desperate to cling onto something, but what? Duke doesn’t know. Hell, he’s almost scared to know, and that confuses him even more. “How do you know who I am?” It’s a simple question, but it’s spoken so quietly and hesitantly that it’s like Duke himself is unsure if he should’ve spoken at all, or if he even said it to begin with. As if, for a moment, he couldn’t tell if he managed to speak at all, or if his eyes and the way his hand shook had asked the question for him.

It’s beyond confusing, and honestly making Duke’s head hurt the more he tries to make sense of everything. The world spins, and yet zeros in on this moment at the same time, and Duke almost feels like he’s about to fall or even collapse all over again-

Then, he sees your smile and how you turn more towards him, and it’s like he can breathe all over again.

“Well, you’re adopted- or at least being taken care of by Mr. Wayne- aren’t you? It’s pretty hard to not know you, Thomas, especially in Gotham. Which- is sort of like Mr. Wayne’s little empire, don’t you think?” You respond easily, words almost playful as you carefully rest your other hand over his – most would pull away or tell him to stop because of how much it hurts, but you don’t. Almost like you can’t feel it, or just see how much the small action means to him – to hold onto something steady, unmoving, and undeniably real in this moment of confusion, dread, and fear. Maybe it’s both, but who’s to say.

Duke struggles to respond, only managing to stutter out an, “I-” a few times before you decide to spare him once more.

“Granted, I’m surprised to see you out and about so early. A growing boy like you needs his rest, doesn’t he?” Your fingers brush against the back of his hand, and it’s only then that Duke realizes that he’s feeling it on his skin, not though his gloves or suit – and he finally looks down. When… did he put on civilian clothes?

Regardless, he can’t help but ease. The tight tension in his shoulders drops, and Duke exhales, relieved. “Right- well, I was just out grabbing a quick bite to eat. Always good to get outta the house, yeah?” He replies easily, the excuse coming easy to him – and as if on cue, his stomach rumbles… Did he eat breakfast this morning? When’s the last time he’s forgotten something like that?

Your expression softens, and you give a small shrug, “‘Suppose you’re right, can’t really argue with that.” You glance down at his stomach before looking back at the teen, and pull your hand back – an action that makes Duke’s hand twitch before he lets it fall back to his side. “How about you join me?”

Duke can’t help but be taken aback by your request, and stammers a little as he straightens up and says, “I couldn’t- I can’t-”

“Oh, c’mon. It’ll just be a little bite, and besides, I’ve already got a table. Breakfast’s on me, yeah?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“[Last Name]?” A waiter calls out, causing you to perk up.

“Ah, that must be it! Now, c’mon,” you gesture for Duke to follow you inside, “I promise I won’t keep you long. But consider this my thanks for yesterday- I definitely underestimate how big Gotham really is.”

The young vigilante hesitates, unsure if he should follow you or try to decline again. After all, he still had patrol – and with this weird group going around, he couldn’t afford to just go off and push aside his duty for breakfast, could he? In situations like this, it was best to stay on top of things and remain vigilant, wasn’t it?

Duke feels his stomach growl much more insistently this time, and he can practically feel the painful pinch of the void growing inside it… It wouldn’t be good if he did patrol on an empty stomach, would it? After all, he had to be in top shape to properly perform his duties, right? Being on an empty stomach wouldn’t do him any good, and would only hinder him further…

“You comin’, Thomas?” The teen’s feet before he could fully process your words, but he offers a nod and agreement all the same.

Bruce would understand, right?

The waiter leads you and Duke to a booth, and from there, things go smoothly. The silence isn’t as bad as one would think, and for those that didn’t know any better – they’d think you were friends or had some friendly relation since conversation flowed seamlessly and easily. It wasn’t long before your orders were made, with you encouraging Duke to order whatever he liked, and the wait was practically nonexistent. Though, that’s only to be expected when you two got along so well. It may have been weird in any other circumstance, but here, it wasn’t. It was natural, just like everything else was.

Really, only those on the outside looking in could notice anything, and someone eventually did.

Cassandra had felt that something was weird, and with how Duke’s body language had read this morning, she couldn’t help but be curious. Not to mention worried, especially since they had enough things to worry about. So, seeing her brother eating with a cop from Metropolis was… weird to say the least. It felt weirder knowing it was you for some reason, but she couldn’t explain why. You couldn’t have possibly been the reason for Duke’s excitement, could you? No, that didn’t make any sense – unless… you knew each other previously? Would Duke have left something like that out?

Just seeing something like this spawned too many questions, and Cassandra wasn’t getting any from standing across the street. Especially not when your body language reads as calm, happy, and oddly enough – full of energy, along with a trace of confidence. With Duke being almost… too happy, too calm and content for someone that was supposed to be a stranger. You were helping them on the case, of course, but they didn’t know you as civilians. They weren’t supposed to, and yet Duke didn’t have the suit on – where was it?

… She could stand there until you both left, but something told her that wasn’t going to get her anywhere either. Something told her that she had to approach, if only to confront you and get Duke out of there herself. To help him get back on track if anything, and to get some sort of explanation if she was smart about things.

So, approaching the establishment, Cassandra steps inside and wastes no time heading over to where you and Duke are sitting. Resisting the urge to just grab you by the collar and get answers out of you, she simple rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze – which is more than enough to grab your attention.

Looking up at her, a confused expression passes by before another bright smile rests and makes itself home on your face. “Ah, You must be Cain, correct? Or would you prefer Cain-Wayne?” A light laugh escapes as you add, “It’s a bit of a tongue twister, but the choice is really yours, young one.”

Surprised, Cassandra can’t help but blink before her expression hardens and he brows furrow. Taking note of her confusion, you simply say, “I haven’t been here for long, but word travels fast in Gotham! Besides, who wouldn’t know about the children Mr. Wayne has taken in? You’re all a very common topic amongst the city folk, and from your expression – I’m willing to assume you’re surprised to hear that.” There was something in your tone that made those last few words of yours almost sound sarcastic. Cassandra couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it made her narrow her eyes all the same. What were you trying to get at-?

“Cass?” Hearing Duke’s voice makes Cassandra glance at him for a moment, and the look in his eyes rubs her the wrong way. He shouldn’t have an expression like that, not for a stranger, even if you are from Metropolis. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were still… home.” The small pause in his words doesn’t slip past her, and it certainly doesn’t make Cassandra feel any better either, but it isn’t enough to make her leave.

Even as she doesn’t say anything, her eyes say enough, and you notice how Duke tenses slightly while under her gaze. You don’t understand what they’re saying, or whatever they seem to be communicating, but you’re not bothered by it. Communication was a universal thing, after all, and you’ve seen many people find all sorts of ways to do it – with or without words. It’s something you’ve picked up on with time, but that’s a given considering things.

Nevertheless, you speak up and interrupt… whatever it is that’s going on here. “Why don’t you join us, Cain? Thomas was just finishing up, but it’s like they say; the more the merrier!”

Cassandra seems taken aback by your offer, and so does Duke, but you only focus on her for now. Despite not having said a word, it’s like you can feel her growing quieter, and just as you go to say something else, she glances at Duke before promptly taking a seat next to him – nearly pushing him towards the window just to create some space for herself.

Naturally, Duke responds with a surprised, “Hey!” At the sudden intrusion of his space, but ultimately does little to get it back, and instead moves over to grant Cassandra her desired space.

From there, you carry on as you did before, but the younger ones across from you seem awkward – you can’t decipher a reason for this, not on your own, but a few eventually come to you and you try to work around it as best you can. At the start, things are strained and it’s obvious that there is something more than what both are deciding to show. Which, while smart, is inconvenient at best.

Regardless, you do what you can to spark conversation. Duke responds well enough after a few questions that ease him back into the flow of things, but Cassandra takes a while longer. Though that only makes sense since she’s just gotten into things, and is only starting to get into that flow as well. It’s not hard to notice that she’s simply just observing for now, and most likely wants to keep it that way, but you didn’t make that offer for her to just watch.

You start with something to drink, offering coffee since that seemed to be a common choice around here, and even take a sip of your own beverage while you were at it, and ask if Duke wanted anything else. It’s always the little things that count, but of course Cassandra remains as she is, and doesn’t respond. It’s only after a good minute or so does she get something, though if it’s to ‘blend in’ easier or because she genuinely wanted something to drink, you couldn’t tell – but that didn’t matter. Eventually, she gives you small responses by nodding or shaking her head, among other small gestures that seem to give just enough information to count as some sort of reaction. Cassandra was responding and reacting more to things Duke was saying, but that didn’t bother you. She was beginning to ease up, and that’s what ultimately counts.

Then, you’re given a golden opportunity as her stomach gives a small rumble. It’s barely noticeable, and not even Duke hears it, but Cassandra does and you notice her reaction well enough to tell. Of course, you give her the same offer you gave to Duke earlier – and even if she is more hesitant and reluctant, you take a risk and push things as you get her something. Just as before, the wait is hardly long at all – even if Cassandra seemed to feel it more than you did – and when it comes, it takes her a bit to even poke at it, but she caves eventually.

From there, everything eases just as it did before. Whatever you picked, she ends up liking it, and the conversation flows much better now that Cassandra is less tense. Your smile from before remains, and the morning carries on splendidly.

However, as with all things, it eventually comes to an end as you get a notification on your mobile device, and a small huff escapes you. Things are coming along, but it’s time to call it – you’ve been here long enough. You signal for the check, and once it arrives, you simply say, “Well this has been nice, hasn’t it? I don’t know what I expected, but I’m pleasantly surprised by both of you. This has been… eye opening, as one would say,” you muse, another light laugh escaping you, “but I’ve kept you both for long enough. I’m sure you both have places to be.” You don’t even look as the waiter takes the check back after you slip on your Rose Bank card.

Duke seems to tense slightly, and stops you from standing as he shoots up from his seat, “Wait, do you have to go right now? If there’s anywhere you need to go, I could take you-” You wave him off, and shake your head.

“There’s no need, I know my way around well enough, but thank you-” Cassandra moves to stand as well, and before she can even fully get out, Duke scrambles to get out of the booth and stand in front of you.

“You just got here a bit ago, right? I’m sure I can still help-”

“Thomas, I assure you I’m fine. I’m just heading back to the station,” you handle the check and slip your card back into your wallet when the waiter comes back around. Duke struggles to speak, and Cassandra seems concerned. Hm.

Exhaling softly, you give the teen a pat on his shoulder, “If anything happens, remember, you can always contact the GCPD if need be, alright?” Duke didn’t seem too pleased with that response, but all it takes is one more long look before he averts his gaze and nods.

“Yeah, yeah… alright.” You grin, and give him another pat.

“Perfect! See you around, kid!” With that, you leave without a second thought, feeling more confident then before – and Cassandra could tell. Of course she could, but before she could think about why you were going to the station this early in the day, her eyes drift back to Duke, and she can’t help but pause. His body language and overall attitude is completely different now… but… why? What could have made him so upset?

The young vigilante glances up when she hears the small bell of the door, indicating your leave… and she doesn’t know why, but she can’t help but feel disappointed.

— — — — — —

Making your way to the station is easy enough, and as you check the time, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Just in time.

You turn around, and are greeted by the sight of blue eyes and dark hair – honestly, if his face shape was different, you’d think he was Bruce. It’s almost weird that they aren’t biologically related, but that’s the funny thing about genetics, you suppose.

Nevertheless, you offer a smile as always, “I got your call, but I didn’t expect to be meeting you in Gotham this soon, Grayson. You really are punctual. Though noon is an odd time to meet up, don’t you think?” Richard – or as everyone apparently calls him, Dick – just gives a smile of his own that borders on a smirk, and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Couldn’t think of a better time, and besides, it isn’t that bad. It’s just in time for lunch!” You hum at his response, finding it a bit curious before giving a nod.

“Well, when you put it like that it almost sounds smart,” You chuckle out, watching as his face contorts slightly. “Regardless, I got your call. You wanted to discuss the case?”

Dick doesn’t seem to appreciate your little jab, nor how you brush past it so fast – but just huffs before giving a nod. “Yeah, some guys said you’d know some things…? Or that someone here did?” You raise a brow before a look of confusion settles on your face.

“A few of us here do, but the one that would know the most would be detective Greenwood,” yet, you pause, as if thinking for a moment before adding, “I assume the situation in Bludhaven has gotten worse?”

The sigh that escapes him is telling enough, even more so with how he rubs the back of his neck, and the nod he gives is almost guilty. “Yeah… and even saying that feels like you’re sugar coating it.” Hm, must be like Metropolis then – that’s good to know. “I guess Ludwig told you?”

“Among a few other things, but just gave a general idea,” Dick visibly deflates at your words, and so, as if extending an olive branch of sorts, you gesture to a cafe nearby. “How about we get you some coffee and a quick bite to eat, hm? Can’t imagine getting here was an easy trip.”

Dick’s practically already following you to the small shop when you make your offer, and a low, exaggerated groan escapes him. “You don’t even know the half of it, it’s like Gotham’s become some highly sought out tourist destination overnight! It’s insanity, I tell you- makes no sense! The people who live here don’t like it enough as it is, why would anyone else want to be here?”

You shrug your shoulders, and guide both of you over to the cafe, “Not a clue, but it is weird when you put it like that. But maybe it’s nothing, who knows? We’ve got enough to deal with, anyway.”

“Tell me about it… not like there's anyone around here that wants to deal with this kind of weather. It feels way too warm for fall, if you ask me.” Dick mumbles, making his way over to the counter to order, and you only partially shrug, giving another nod in half agreement. You didn’t feel a difference, but it could just be because you’re used to it.

“I guess so,” you say, pulling out your wallet to pay – seeing as you offered to begin with. Obviously, Dick notices and doesn’t move to stop you, but can’t help but raise a brow.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?”

You glance at him for a moment before huffing softly, almost as if amused by what he said, and just hand the cashier your Rose Bank card to pay.

“I had a filling brunch.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Despite everything that’s been going on, this is probably one of their more organized efforts to tackle the night – which is really saying something, since there’s always been attempts, but it’s hard to be orderly amidst chaos. Something that Gotham practically breeds, even if this particular strain comes from out of town.

Tim and Duke are in the manor running tests on the organic material Stephanie and Jason had managed to get from the other night, with Barbara doing similar work in the clock tower. The others are out in the city, with Bruce running some things by Gordon, Selina being god knows where, and the others tracking some shipment while taking care of minor crimes and such along the way.

It’s almost… weird how coordinated this ‘cult’ seems to be, not to mention just how many people seem to be in on this thing. There didn’t seem to be an exact number at the moment, and if they really did split up, then there may even be more members that they weren’t aware of that have taken refuge outside of Gotham-

Point is, there were definitely a lot of people in this cult. Maybe even too many to coordinate and organize, at least for them to work so in sync with one another as they were now. It’d make more sense if they were only in Gotham, but until they got Clark’s report, no one could be sure of that – even if Dick responding so readily when Bruce had called him in was telling enough on its own. There was also the possibility of there being multiple organizers and leaders for this, which seems like the obvious choice, but even so – who could get a system in place that works this smoothly? It’s almost unnatural. Uncanny, even. Not to mention it doesn’t make sense if there’s no incentive for these people to be doing all of this-

Tim couldn’t figure it out, anyway. It felt like there was still so much they didn’t know yet, and like one thing was happening right after the other. Despite not being out in the city himself, he could use his birds as his eyes to see outside while he remained in the cave – so, in a way he was also tracking the cult. What Tim found weird himself is that you didn’t think the cult had a proper name, or that they weren’t called after the event all of these groups seem to be working towards. It made the most logical sense that they would be, or at least something similar to it – but you, someone who's been working on this case longer than anyone they knew at the moment, disagreed. Why? Regardless, aside from this supposed ‘Red Dawn’, what incentive did… well, anyone have to be a part of the cult to begin with? Did the event itself grant them something? What even was the Red Dawn? What did it have to do with all this soil and sand?

There were too many questions and not enough answers, but he supposes that’s why they’re even investigating to begin with. Though, if Tim had a say in this – it feels too organized to be something that only started three or so days ago. Have they really only been in Gotham for just a couple of days? If what his birds are seeing is real, then it’s more likely that they’ve been here for months-

[“Oh, would you look at that? They split again. Geez, really makes you wonder why they’re moving this stuff around like this. Seems ssseriously inefficient if you ask me.” Jason’s voice sparks in the commlink, tone sarcastic and rough.]

[“Agreed, there hardly seems to be a purpose to such tactics.” Damian huffs, going quiet for a moment only to add, “Unless they really are trying to distract us.”]

Tim perks up at this, and uses a nearby bird to perch on top of one of the telephone lines that go across the street. Watching as the next load of… whatever this cult was hauling and bringing around, drives off down the street. Some of it in a truck, and the other half of it in various cars. Not exactly subtle, but it would be hard to keep track of it all if one person was trying to keep tabs on things. Especially if said person was human.

[“Gonna have to agree with you guys, these people… they’re doing something, alright.” Stephanie chimes in, the suspicion clear in her voice.]

“What does that mean?” Tim can’t help but ask, trying to focus on the sample he’s analyzing, but can’t help but focus more on what his birds are seeing – especially when it’s more interesting the shuffling through samples of dirt.

[Stephanie sighs, “Seems like they’re trying to spread this stuff all around. Parks, gardens, bakeries, flower shops- all kinds of places, and from the looks of things? Whatever they’re doing here, it’s getting to other civilians as well. Guards and employees are helping them, and not just to open the back door either.”]

[“Someone open the front door?” Jason asks rhetorically.]

[Stephanic stiffs a chuckle, but Cassandra responds with a curt, “Yes. And storage.”]

[Jason was quiet for a moment before a small, “... Right, ‘course they did.”]

With his birds, Tim is able to follow as many trails as he can – and upon noticing a particularly weird detail, his brows furrow. “They… looped back around.”

[“Yep, I see them. Right back at the gardens… weird.” Stephanie confirms, sounding equally confused.]

[“They’re obviously trying to play us, but why? So they can plant more of this… red shit everywhere?” Jason can’t help but question.]

Tim shakes his head, which the closest bird to Jason and Damian emulates, “No, that doesn’t make sense. They’ve got loads of this stuff all over Gotham- I don’t see why they’d need more, unless…” He grows quiet, thinking for a moment before he looks down at the sample he’s supposed to be examining. Were they thinking of this the wrong way?

[“Unless… what?” Stephanie asks.]

He tries to think of a way to explain it, fumbling for a moment before just saying, “Well, do we even know what this stuff does?”

[“That’s what we have you looking at it for, yeah? Shouldn’t you or Barbara, or hell- even Duke know?” Jason chips in again.]

[Damian sucks his teeth, “Of course you can’t even do the one job we actually give you, Drake.”]

Tim can practically feel the disdain in Damian’s voice as he says his last name, which makes his brow twitch – but he shakes it off. He tries to, at least.

“I’m trying! I just… don’t know what I’m looking at, or why, okay? This whole situation is… weird.”

[“Look, Tim, people… people died over this stuff. There’s gotta be something weird about it. Maybe weird chemicals or…?” Stephanie tries to suggest.]

The watcher huffs at the reminder, but ultimately relents as he gives it another look while still having his birds keep tabs on things. All he sees is the same thing, and as he increases the magnification on the microscope, he only finds himself growing more… confused. More weirded out than anything, and a little curious, sure, but confused all the same.

Leaning back, he takes a breath, “I don’t understand, it looks alien… but how can that even be possible?”

[“We work with aliens, is it really that strange, Drake?”]

“I know that- but this is like- different! The organisms in the dirt are being taken over by something- and it’s like it’s both trying to take over and adapt to it?”

[“Like… a parasite trying to get used to its host?”]

“Kind of? It’s hard to explain… and this substance in the dirt- no wonder some of it looks like sand…”

[“So, instead of ‘getting used to’ the host, it’s killing it.” Jason suggests.]

“Yeah, like it can’t adapt properly or… is valuing infection over adaptation. It seems to feed on organic material and create more- but there’s something weird about it too.”

[“... And that is?”]

Tim hesitates for a moment, unsure himself, before eventually just putting the idea out there. “Well, at this pace… if their plan is for it to infect all the organic material in Gotham for whatever reason, then this is a seriously inefficient way to do it. Their plan here isn’t to have this stuff in all the dirt - at least, not to change it all. It seems more like a byproduct of whatever they’re trying to do with it.”

[“Well, what’s in the dirt, Tim?” Stephanie asks.]

“That’s the thing- I have no idea. It’s like its own organism, but I haven’t seen anything like this. It’s completely alien, and I doubt it’s the friendly kind.”

[“Well- I have to agree with you there. If it was… well, who knows how this would go. But nothing about all of this particularly screams ‘friendly’.”]

[“Did the people shooting themselves give that away?” Jason sarcastically quips.]

[“The purposefully suspicious activity certainly doesn’t help.” Damian adds, sounding equally pleased.]

Tim zones out of the conversation, glancing back at the samples Jason and Stephanie were able to bring in that he hasn’t fully looked at yet. The samples themselves don’t seem to ‘decay’ necessarily, and it seems to take them a while to eat away at the dirt or sand they’ve been ‘mixed’ with – from the looks of things, anyway.

No, if anything it gives the impression of a substance trying to reach homeostasis. Since, it’s either that or it’s trying to revert back to it’s original state for… whatever reason. Whatever other material it produces in that process is simply a byproduct of its efforts. The real question is why. Why is it trying to change? Why is it working to do… whatever it’s trying to do?

Mindlessly, Tim’s blank eyes drift over to where Duke was sitting, only to pause.

The teenager was hunched over, entirely focused on the task at hand – and whereas that isn’t inherently a bad thing, Duke hardly seems to be breathing, like the smallest gust of air or wind will tamper with the sample so much. Taking too much precaution when it comes to treating it. Not like it’s dangerous, but like it’s precious, like handling something more fragile than glass.

The sight alone makes Tim feel unnerved, and as his senses heighten – its only then does he pick up on the faintest smell. What… what is that-?

[“Oh shit- we’ve got to bounce. Now-!”]

[“Agreed. How did you even manage to-?”]

[“Let’s save the questions for when we’re out of the burning warehouse.”]

Tim blinks, eyes blowing wide as he looks away from Duke and focuses back on what’s going on. Using one of his birds, he can see that a warehouse is, in fact, on fire – and it is growing fast. “Steph-”

[“Already made the call, fire department is on the way but- how in the world did you guys even manage to set the whole place on fire?”]

[“Don’t lump me in with this brainless brute-” Damian’s complaint is cut off.]

[“I didn’t even expect the stuff to catch that fast! Just- ugh,” Jason groans, the subtle sound of the warehouse coming apart is just barely audible through the comlink. “Do everyone a favor, and keep those samples away from fire. That shit lights faster than propane.”]

“Even if it spreads quickly, how did the fire get strong that fast?!”

[“Hell if I know! You said this crap is alien, right? How is anyone supposed to figure it’d have so much kick!?”]

“You knew it could set on fire?!”

[“Last I checked, dirt isn’t flammable- of COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW!”]

[“Guys! Just- focus on getting out of there! We can figure out all of this once we regroup. Meet me and Cass at the station. We need to tell Bruce about this.”]

Tim glances at Duke once again, who’s hand twitches slightly, and the watcher grows quiet before looking back at his own sample.

… Could this night get any weirder?

— — — — – – – – – – — – – –

Eventually, towards the heart of the night, Bruce is able to reach the batcave once more, and everyone recounts what they found or learned – minus certain individuals.

The discussion is as chaotic as one would imagine, but the main points get across eventually, albeit between suspicions a few of them had, and more speculation on what could be going on. The biggest question is why this group had chosen Gotham of all places, if they really have been here recently or have been in the city for longer, who Tim and Cass were able to identify as members of the cult, and so on.

Whoever was organizing this was clearly doing something to the people following them. How perfect everything seemed to flow without their presence was uncanny and unnatural, not to mention how readily members have killed themselves without a hint of hesitation. Honestly, it was terrifying – and the fact there was still so much left unknown wasn’t helping. Not knowing who was behind this, or at least in charge of the group in Gotham was setting them back – and the risk of confrontation was too high. There was no telling if they’d dispose of themself just as quickly as the other members of the cult, but that was assuming there even were other leaders in place.

They certainly had their influencers and people who brought in more members into their cult, but for some reasons… most of the vigilantes had a feeling that there wasn’t. That there was just one person in control – the lack of evidence on that end didn’t help, but they sort of just knew. Regardless, it wasn’t enough to fully dismiss anything, even if some of them were pretty set on a couple of things. Duke, Jason, Stephanie, and Cassandra in particular. Bruce was… well, himself, but he seemed to have his mind set as well even if he left the door open for possibilities.

If this was really alien, who knows what they’re dealing with – and if what Clark said earlier was true, then it’s definitely mind altering, at the very least. Though, that did pose another question entirely about you and the cops that came in from Metropolis.

Were any of you under the influence of this… alien substance?

They weren’t given much time to dwell on that as something pops up on the batcomputer – a notification of sorts. “Ah, must be Clark.” Bruce mumbles, already working on displaying and finding out all the information Clark had gathered.

A map of the United States first flashes onto the many screens, before red dots begin to appear on the map. Like little fairy lights, they flicker on, and don’t stop until it looks like the country has got the bad case of chickenpox. Then, it zooms out, showing the whole world map, and more dots appear. They’re sparse in some areas compared to others, but the message is made clear enough.

Yet, before anyone could fully digest even the point Clark was trying to make, the funniest thing happens.

The dots begin to move. They weren’t just markers, they were trackers.

Some move faster than others, all of them blinking for a moment before shifting, showing their movement. There aren’t any labels, but the direction seems to be clear enough. Especially as the map zooms back into the United States, and shows the movement there a little more clearly.

On the East Coast, all of the dots closest to there seem to be moving towards two cities in particular – but before it can be shown where they are clearly moving towards, the power cuts. The batcave is swallowed by darkness, and the vigilante family is left in complete darkness for a few moments. The cave being the most dark any of them have seen it, and the silence near deafening.

It doesn’t take long for the lights to flicker back on, but they have the oddest shade of pink, and as everything powers back on – the ventilation is still paused, and something else has taken place of the map on the batcomputer – it’s taken over every screen even remotely connected to the advanced computer, actually.

A red solar eclipse with a timer right on the bottom, counting down. No explanation, nothing aside from the eclipse and countdown.

There’s no way someone in the cult could’ve got into the system, and especially not tonight when they were all on high alert and keeping an eye on them! It wasn’t possible, the security in the cave and manor would’ve been enough to stop anyone from getting in, or at least notified any of them if someone had gotten in. Hell, Damian’s sense and trigger would have alerted him if anyone had so much as stepped onto the property that wasn’t supposed to be there. There are too many precautions put into place for this to happen – and for the sight to stay on screen as well.

That didn’t leave many possibilities, and it was less about the why and more about how this could even happen. Which, amongst the options to shift through… with the threat they were dealing with here, only one seemed to stick out and seemed the most plausible.

There was a traitor among them.

[sugarwarachan]

addicted to you

summary: Kirishima Eijiro's pretty positive he’s going to hell. You can’t listen to your buddy’s girlfriend cum that many times and not be on a one-way ticket to the fiery pits of doom. When he's at the end of his rope, one night might change the dynamic of his relationship with you. pairing: bakugou x reader x kirishima wc: 1.6k content warnings: smut mdni, threesome dynamics, dirty talk, degradation, voyeurism, oral, m!receiving, kirishima's raging size kink

Plap plap plap -

"Oh god, Kats..."

It should be fucking illegal for walls to be this thin, Kirishima thinks, staring up at his ceiling, willing his dick to soften. This is the fifth night in a row that he’s heard your guts getting rearranged by his best friend, and it’s starting to take a toll on the pro hero.

“Yeah, baby? Too much for ya?”

A soft groan emits from Kirishima’s throat at the high-pitched whine you make in response.

It’s not gentlemanly of him at all, but he pictures how gorgeous your face must look right now, mouth hanging open, eyes rolled up in your head—

"Not enough," he hears you shoot back.

He slams the pillow over his face and rolls onto his belly, rutting his dick across the mattress in one long drag.

Fuck.

When he first heard you two have sex, he really tried to do the respectable thing and not listen, he swears. When noise-canceling headphones didn't cut it, he went on long walks the minute you and Bakugou disappeared behind closed doors. It’s made for some very awkward late-night convenience store runs.

He lifts the pillow from his face. No noises sound from next door. He sighs. Time to address the raging cockstand in his pants, then.

The fantasy he conjures is familiar, well-worn. He starts in the middle this time, at the part where you’re already gagging on his dick, eyes welling with tears as be bullies his cock down your throat.

Kirishima grabs the lube from his nightstand and coats his palm. His hips buck into his hand as he works himself up and down, idly wondering how much of him you'd be able to take. He hates it, but the thought of your face scrunching up as you struggle to fit him all the way in shreds his sanity to ribbons.

"Kiri?" your voice sounds through the door while his hand is mid-stroke on his cock.

It’s like he summoned you.

"Yeah?" Even that minor syllable sounds like he’s fucking drugged.

"Can I come in please?"

His eyes bug out of his head. Are you fucking serious?

"Just a minute!" he shouts, shucking up his sweatpants and toweling off the mess between his thighs.

He hears Bakugou’s voice next. "Just let us in, idiot, she’s gotta ask you something."

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit—

He’s gonna die tonight. You’re probably outside thinking he’s a digusting pervert, in here fucking jerking off to you—what was he thinking?

Apparently not even the panic can make his dick cooperate though. He tucks it into the waistband of his pants and prays for a swift end.

When he opens the door, he expects to dodge a punch. But you’re standing there in a see-through red teddy, and all semblance of thought goes out the window.

“Did you finally hear me this time, Kiri?”

Huh?

He’s pretty sure he just splutters. Bakugou barks out a laugh behind you. "Told you this dummy was in denial, pretty girl."

His brain stumbles. "You wanted me to hear?"

You let out a husky giggle that goes straight to his groin. If possible, he gets harder.

"I like how you watch me, Kiri," you admit, eyes darting to his lips. His mouth goes dry. "I keep thinking about how you’d touch me."

He balls his hands into fists at his side to keep from hauling you onto his bed. "This is something you two have talked about?"

Bakugou has the audacity to look annoyed. "Doesn’t take a fuckin’ genius to figure it out. You’re always starin’ at her. Besides," he runs a hand straight down your back; you shiver and lean back into him. "Can’t deny this sweet thing much."

The good thing about being a pro hero is that you learn to adapt to situations quickly. Kirishima's brain is spinning with this new information, but he’s reacting before he realizes it, hand reaching out for your waist.

Your nipples tighten—he wants his tongue on them, sucking through the lace. He looks to Bakugou, but the man’s just sauntering into the room, settling into the desk chair with his legs kicked out, gray sweatpants tented.

“Go on, then.” He palms his cock. “Make her feel good like you’ve been wanting.”

Kirishima doesn’t need to be told twice. He picks you up and arranges you both on the bed, your thighs draped over his hips. You’re soaking wet; he can feel the slick dripping from your pussy fall on his stomach.

He’s so hard it hurts.

You’re not much better off, whimpering and rutting in his lap like a bitch in heat.

"Touch me, Kiri, please," you say, nosing at his neck and sucking on his pulse point. "Need your big hands on me."

God, you even beg cute.

His hands span up your back, pressing your tits into his chest and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You groan into his mouth, hands tangling in his hair, tugging at the strands.

"Wild little thing, aren’t you, baby?" Kirishima chuckles when you glare at him. "No judgment here, I fucking love it. Been listenin' to you long enough to have an idea of how you like it."

He looks over at Bakugou. "You just gonna watch?"

"Gotta make sure you do it right, Shitty-hair," he grits out, fist moving up and down. “Ya already need me to step in?”

Kirishima laughs under his breath. "Fuck you too, asshole." He cradles your face in one hand, tilting your lips up to his. "Come here, princess, let me see how hard I can make you cum, huh? Harder than he does?"

One breath against your clit and you’d probably scream for him right now. He can't help but puff out his chest a little at the thought.

Clothing comes off in a flurry. Every inch of skin exposed is a fucking godsend, more for him to touch, to caress.

When his cock bobs in between your bodies, he swears your mouth goes slack.

"Oh, Kiri," you breathe out, wrapping your hands around him. "You didn’t tell me you had such a pretty dick.” He chokes and rolls his hips into your fist. "You’re big, too. I don’t know if you’ll fit all the way."

He grunts. "Fuck baby, you can’t say shit like that to me, drives me fuckin’ crazy—"

The smile you give him is sinful. "I know." You shut him up by undulating your hips, sliding your pussy folds along the head of his cock.

"She's a little brat, Kiri, don't be afraid to put her in her place," Kirishima hears Bakugou say in the background. His voice is strained, husky. Both of you moan at the sound.

"Is that right, princess?" He nips at your mouth. "You think I'll give you whatever you want?"

You nod, the sweetest whine falling from your lips as he starts to inch his dick inside your quivering hole. You're so tight it's like your pussy can't decide if it wants to suck him in or spit it out.

"Stay fucking still," he growls, hold fast and hard on your hips. You squeal at his tone, gasping as he stretches you open, working the tip in and out.

Your hands scrabble at the sheets, his forearms, anything. He just holds you in place as your cunt gets sloppier and sloppier, lewd squelching noises filling the room.

"Kiri please just fuck me. Please, I've been thinking about it for weeks now—"

Bakugou kneels on the side of the mattress.

"You're mouthy tonight, baby. All because you're showing off for him?" He taps the side of your mouth. "Let's put that mouth to better use, yeah?"

If Kirishima wasn't about to bust his load, he sure as fuck is now, watching you greedily suck his best friend's dick as he works his into your sopping wet core.

When he finally bottoms out, the sound you make is pornographic, throat stuffed up with dick, humming out your pleasure...

"God that's so fucking hot, baby, look at you." He sets a rough, steady pace. Your tits bounce as your throat works to take Bakugou. Drool trickles down your chin; he wipes it away and squeezes your neck. It's driving him crazy, watching your tongue and lips work in tandem. "Takin' dick so well, there's a good girl."

Bakugou has a tight grip on the headboard, veins straining in his neck.

"Fuckin' hell, I'm close. Pinch her clit, Eiji, that'll make her cum quick. Get her there for me, let me see her fuckin' scream."

Kirishima rolls your bud between his fingers, and sure enough, your pussy starts clamping down on him. His rhythm gets erractic, wild. All he can think about is the sticky wet rush of slick between your legs, your channel milking his cock like you'd been waiting for weeks for it—

Bakugou slides out of your mouth with an obscene pop, spitting into his palm. "Dirty little slut, love getting used, don't ya?"

Kirishima keeps working your clit, dick jumping inside you. "There's our pretty girl, doing so well. Where do you want me to cum, honey? Can I cum here?"

He presses down on your tummy and pinches your clit at the same time. Slick gushes out of you.

"Cum in her, Kiri," he hears Bakugou bark out, hand speeding up. "I'll clean it up later, just wanna see you both cum with your dick in her."

It's embarassing, but that's really all he needs to hear before he's coming the hardest he ever has, cock twitching and pumping seed into you as Bakugou spends onto your tits.

Your own orgasm takes you over, bowing your back off the bed, mouth hanging open as incoherent babble falls from your lips. Kirishima fucks you through it, each small tremor of your subsequent orgasms like jolts of lightning.

He's pretty sure he knows the answer when he asks, "We get to do that again, right?"

You look at Bakugou, who just smirks. "Won't get rid of us that easily."

taglist: @luleck, @yesshayhere @grim-reapers-wife @dai-png @burgvndy

[rinsthighsweat]

hi i saw your latest works and they are so good. you wrote that you write nsfw but you dont do it well so can i ask for something light if you dont mind? bllk characters who are more stoic/dominant and all that in normal life but with a very dominant s/o in bed? just headcanons if you want 🦅

Hey anon!!! Thank you so much! And sure, I tried to do it the best I could, I hope you like it, I made it like a mixture of headcanons and fanfics. You didn't name any characters so I decided to put the ones I know the most and like writing about, I hope you don't mind that! Oh yeah, also... Sorry for the delay, I had busy days.

Light nsfw! In these scenarios Rin is already an adult.

They are not dominant in everything

Rin, Barou, Kaiser, Shidou and Aiku | masterlist

۶ৎ Rin Itoshi

Rin has always been in control of his life, his training, his emotions, his career. But when you confidently take the lead in the bedroom, it shakes his world in a way he never anticipated.

The first time you pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with a mischievous smirk, he froze. His sharp eyes widened slightly before narrowing, his voice a mix of defiance and curiosity. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He tries to maintain his stoicism, but the way your hands explore his body, coupled with your commanding tone, has his breath hitching.

Rin isn’t particularly vocal, but the way his body reacts, tense muscles relaxing under your touch, the soft gasps he can’t suppress, says everything.

You teasingly call him out for being so obedient, and his face flushes red as he mutters, “I’m not… I just…” before trailing off, completely at your mercy.

Post-intimacy, he’ll try to act indifferent, turning his face away while his ears burn red. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that next time.” But deep down, he craves more.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Barou Shoei

Barou doesn’t relinquish control easily, and the idea of someone dominating him initially makes him scoff. “Like hell you’re calling the shots.” But when you assert yourself, pinning him down, he’s speechless for the first time.

He fights it at first, growling lowly as if to test you, but the firm, confident way you handle him stirs something unexpected within him.

Barou is a mix of frustration and desire, his breaths coming out in heavy pants as he realizes how much he enjoys being at your mercy.

You teasingly tell him he’s more obedient than he lets on, and his prideful glare softens into something almost vulnerable. “Don’t push your luck… but keep going.”

He secretly loves the way you take control, your strength and confidence drawing out a side of him he’s never shown anyone else.

Afterward, he grumbles about being “too lenient,” but his actions betray him as he pulls you close and mutters, “Next time, I’m in charge… maybe.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser’s cocky attitude doesn’t falter easily, and when you first suggest taking the lead, he smirks and leans back, arms crossed. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, liebling.”

His confidence wavers the moment you take control, your bold movements and teasing words leaving him breathless. He tries to regain his composure but fails miserably.

Kaiser loves the way you dominate him, your assertiveness making his usual bravado crumble. His gasps and groans become more desperate the longer you keep him on edge.

He’ll try to tease you back, but his words falter as you keep him under your control. The way you smirk at his vulnerability both frustrates and excites him.

Post-intimacy, he chuckles softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “You really know how to leave a man speechless. I might let you take charge more often… if you ask nicely.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shidou Ryusei

Shidou is chaos incarnate, and he thrives on unpredictability. When you take the lead, his initial reaction is pure excitement. “Oh, so you’ve got a wild side, huh? Bring it on.”

He’s the most vocal of them all, moaning, growling, and tossing out filthy comments that only spur you on further. “That’s it, babe. Show me what you’ve got.”

Despite his playful resistance, he loves being at your mercy, the way you tease and control him making his mind spin.

Shidou is all about pushing limits, so he encourages you to be as dominant as you want, his cocky grin never fading even as he’s begging for more.

Afterward, he’s sprawled out with a satisfied smirk, panting as he pulls you into his arms. “Damn, you’re good. Next time, let’s see who can outdo who.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Oliver Aiku

Aiku is smooth and confident, used to being the one in control. But when you turn the tables on him, his usual charm slips, replaced by something more raw and vulnerable.

He watches you with wide eyes as you push him down, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh? Didn’t expect this from you… but I like it.”

He’s surprisingly submissive under your dominance, his deep groans and soft murmurs betraying how much he enjoys being led.

Aiku can’t stop complimenting you throughout, his voice husky as he whispers, “You’re incredible, you know that? Keep going.”

He’s left in awe of your confidence and control, his usual suave demeanor replaced with genuine admiration.

Afterward, he’s all smiles, pulling you close and tracing lazy circles on your back. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Guess I’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

© 2025 rinsthighsweat — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[ivoraic]

Closer than Infinity

Summary: No one touches Gojo Satoru without permission. No one bypasses his infinity. And yet here you are, clinging to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Paring: Gojo x Reader who’s cursed technique is cursed energy absorption

Word Count : 9.6k

Cw: choking (as in the trying to kill you kind not the sexy kind), potential jjk spoilers, kidnapping, mahito, kenjaku performing experiments on you. let me know if i missed any pls mostly just tooth rotting fluff with satoru being whipped for you (and some heart wrenching angst as well... but with a happy ending!) Read on ao3

The sun glares down at you, searing and relentless. It was bright. Too bright. A moment ago, you were in your room, lulled by the soft patter of night rain against the window. Now, you’re here, disoriented and overwhelmed, standing in the middle of a bustling Tokyo street.

The sky feels heavier here, the air thick with something you can’t quite place; cursed energy, though you don’t know it yet. People bustle about around you, eyes glued to their screens, their expressions vacant. No one spares you a second glance.

You don’t understand where you are, and the anxiety starts creeping in, your vision blurring as tears threaten to spill.

Then, you hear a voice.

"Hey, hey, you okay there? So, you’re the one displacing all the cursed energy in this area, huh?”

You turn toward it, and he’s just standing there, hands shoved into his pockets lazily. Clad in an all-black attire, his blindfold is tugged just above his sharp grin.

His name, you would come to learn, is Gojo Satoru. The catalyst for your new life.

There’s something about him, something undeniably safe despite the power that hums around him, distorting the air. The oppressive weight pressing down on you seems to lift in his presence, and instinctively, you take a step toward him.

But before you can reach him, a careless passerby bumps into your shoulder, sending you stumbling.

Your hand shoots out, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself.

His smirk falters.

His mind blanks for a second, and his eyes widen just slightly; a flicker of shock. His Infinity didn’t activate. Didn’t even react.

You had bypassed it entirely.

Why… why did my Infinity not activate?

He didn’t drop it. He knows he didn’t. And yet, your hand, small, soft, and trembling, touches him like it’s nothing. Like touching Gojo Satoru is the most natural thing in the world. His brain scrambles for an explanation, but all you do is blink up at him with wide, confused eyes, unaware of what you’ve just done.

It fascinates him. No one gets this close to him without permission. No one just touches him.

But you did.

And you're clinging to him like he's the only safe thing in this entire strange world.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, is rattled by a single touch. He masks it quickly, of course. A sly grin spreads across his face as he leans in, eyes narrowing with interest.

"Oh? You must be special, huh?" he teases, but there’s an edge to his words, a curiosity that borders on obsession.

He doesn’t give you the chance to answer, not that you could. Before you know it, he’s taken your hand, his grip light yet unyielding.

Because now he needs to know.

Why you can touch him. Why his Infinity doesn’t react. Why he can’t see through you with his Six Eyes.

You’re like a puzzle he can’t solve, and Gojo is obsessed with solving things. He takes you back to Jujutsu High, deciding to figure out exactly what you are.

---

At the school, he watches you quietly, letting you stick close to him. His explanations about Jujutsu society, cursed spirits, and techniques are frustratingly vague, always seeming to leave out some crucial detail. You scramble to piece things together, devouring books from the school’s archives and pestering him with endless questions, to which he mostly responds with amused grins and teasing remarks.

“You’ll figure it out,” he’d casually reply, lounging back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. “You’re a quick learner.”

Despite his carefree demeanor, you soon realize that he’s much sharper and more perceptive than he lets on, and he takes a certain delight in testing your limits. Through a series of spontaneous, almost playful experiments, you both begin to uncover the nature of your cursed technique: cursed energy absorption.

“Let’s see what happens,” he announces one afternoon, tossing a small flicker of cursed energy your way. It’s harmless, just a wisp, really, but the moment it touches you, it vanishes, swallowed into the void of your body. You barely feel it, just the faintest tingle, like static electricity dissipating against your skin.

Gojo’s eyes narrow slightly, his interest piqued. “Huh. That’s neat.”

He doesn’t stop there. For extra measure, he releases a low-grade fly head into the room; a harmless cursed spirit. The creature buzzes around erratically, its movements jittery and unpredictable. But the second it brushes against you, it crumples up and disappears completely, as if sucked into a black hole.

He lets out a low whistle. “Scary,” he murmurs, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

But you’re not invincible. Physical attacks, you quickly discover, can still hurt you. The realization makes Gojo frown thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he processes the implications.

“So cursed techniques don’t work on you, huh? But a punch in the face would?” He leans in slightly, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “That’s… not good.”

You huff at his bluntness, crossing your arms. “Thanks, mister obvious.”

He chuckles at that, but his expression grows serious as he continues. “All this cursed energy you absorb, it has to go somewhere, right? Energy can’t just vanish into thin air. It’s gotta build up or… redistribute somehow.”

His words linger in your mind for days, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Where does all that energy go? You find out soon enough.

It happens by accident, during another one of Gojo’s experiments. He’s been pushing you harder lately, testing your capacity to absorb larger amounts of cursed energy. You’re already tired, your body humming with the energy you’ve collected over the past hour, when he suddenly says, “Alright. Let’s try something new.”

Before you can protest, his hand lands gently on your shoulder. The moment his palm touches you, the world shifts.

It’s like a thread pulls taut between you and him, an invisible line that snaps into place and yanks you forward. The energy within you stirs violently, surging toward him as though drawn by an irresistible force. And then, without warning, you’re pulled in.

Your physical body seems to dissolve, your consciousness folding into his. It’s not painful, more like slipping into warm water, the boundaries between you blurring as you’re absorbed into him completely. You’re disoriented at first, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of sensations. His cursed energy roars around you, infinite and untamed, but instead of drowning in it, you find yourself amplifying it. Strengthening it.

And then you feel his thoughts.

They’re loud and clear, vivid and raw. His confidence. His focus. His endless, swirling intellect. But underneath it all, there’s something else. A quiet loneliness, buried so deeply that even he might not realize it’s there.

You know he feels you too. His awareness brushes against yours, tentative at first, then curious. He’s seeing all of you. Your awe, your nervousness, the way your heart stutters when you think about him.

A voice echoes in your mind. His voice, but softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Is this… you?”

And then it’s over.

Your body emerges from his in a rush, like being expelled through a barrier. You’re weightless for a moment, reeling from the sudden separation, before his arms catch you instinctively. One hand steadies your waist, the other bracing your back, holding you close as though afraid you might collapse.

You’re trembling, your head spinning, but his grip is firm, grounding. His expression is unreadable, his gaze flickering between concern and amazement.

“That,” he finally says, his voice low and breathless, “was… unexpected.”

You nod weakly, still trying to process what just happened. “What… what was that?”

Gojo tilts his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the obvious seriousness of the moment. “Looks like your cursed technique has a little bonus feature,” he says. But there’s an unmistakable gleam in his eyes, something almost giddy, like he’s already thinking of all the ways this changes things.

“Merge,” he murmurs thoughtfully, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “You can merge with me. Boost my energy, maybe even my technique… and I can feel everything you feel.”

You blink, the weight of his words sinking in. “I… merged with you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone light. “I could feel you in there. Your thoughts, your emotions. It was… intimate.”

The word makes you flush, but Gojo doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he’s just enjoying your reaction. He allows you to remove his hands from your body and step back, regaining your composure.

“This changes everything,” he continues, his mind already racing with possibilities. “With an ability like that, you could turn the tide of any battle. But…” He trails off, his expression darkening.

“But what?”

He meets your gaze, his tone unusually solemn. “It also makes you a target. If people find out what you can do, they’ll come after you. And not just curses—the higher-ups, other sorcerers, maybe even people we don’t know about yet. You’ve got something they’ll want to control.”

The gravity of his words makes your stomach twist. You realize, perhaps for the first time, just how dangerous your ability could be. Not just for your enemies, but for yourself.

Gojo must see the worry on your face, because his grin returns, softer this time. “Don’t worry,” he says, ruffling your hair playfully. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m the strongest, remember?”

---

Word of your ability spreads fast. It’s not long before the higher-ups find out. They hear whispers of an anomaly. Someone who can bypass Gojo’s infinity, someone with a cursed technique powerful enough to absorb energy itself.

You first hear about their unease from Gojo himself. He brings it up casually one day, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

“The higher-ups are wary of you, you know.”

You glance up from the book in your hands, frowning. “Wary? Of me? But I haven’t done anything, have I?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, as if the answer is obvious. “You have. You can do what no one else can.” He leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, a small smile playing on his lips. “You can touch me.”

To the higher-ups, you’re a threat. An unpredictable variable that could shatter the delicate balance of power.

If she can bypass Gojo, she can kill him.

And if she can kill Gojo, she can destroy everything.

The order is swift: Immediate execution.

Gojo only laughs when he hears it. Laughs in that cold, dangerous way that makes the air around him tighten.

“Oh? You want to what now?”

They try to argue.

“It’s a precaution. You can’t possibly guarantee she won’t turn on us.” “It’s too dangerous to let her live.”

Gojo’s smile sharpens. “No. You’re not laying a hand on her.”

And that’s the end of that conversation.

Even though the higher-ups were afraid of you, the one they were most afraid of was Gojo. They knew better than to risk provoking him. Instead, they compromise. If they can’t execute you, then they’ll find another way to control you.

That’s how you end up being appointed as Gojo’s personal assistant. Or, as you later realize, his handler. It’s a political move, thinly veiled under the guise of practicality. They claim it’s to “help you grow as a sorcerer” and to “ensure your potential is properly utilized,” but the truth is far simpler: they want you close to him, where they can keep an eye on you both.

Gojo seems happy enough with the arrangement, informing you of it with a wide grin.

You frown. “How is this a good thing?”

“Because,” he says, ruffling your hair playfully, “it means I get to keep you close. And you’re safer next to me than anywhere else.”

---

At first, Gojo is determined to keep you emotionally far away from his heart. He knows better than to get attached to someone like you, someone vulnerable and still finding their footing in the world of curses and sorcery. He’s lost too many people he cared about already. He can’t bear to go through that kind of pain again.

But you’re like gravity to him. The more time he spends with you, the harder it becomes to stay away. Not to mention the way your cursed technique pairs so naturally with his, like a missing puzzle piece. He tries to keep his feelings at bay, but he keeps getting pulled closer.

And slowly, before he even realizes it, he’s falling.

The first time you merge with him during a mission is a nightmare for you. As he’s cutting through curses with ease, beneath the adrenaline, he feels your awe and your admiration for how effortlessly powerful he is.

Your thoughts begin drifting to the image of him while fighting, the way he can effortlessly fight hand to hand, the way you can sometimes catch a glimpse of his well-built stature and abs when his jacket lifts up slightly mid battle…

God, he looks so attractive when he’s fighting.

He smirks mid-battle. Shoot.

“Oh? Is that what you’re thinking right now?”

You flush with embarrassment, mentally scrambling to cover it up, but it’s too late. He finds it adorable. He doesn’t stop teasing you about it for a week afterwards.

You find that you can merge with other sorcerers too. It isn’t just Gojo’s cursed energy that’s compatible with yours, as much as he likes to loudly claim that his is the best match. Nanami, for instance, has a steady, almost soothing flow of cursed energy. Organized, predictable, and oddly comforting in its calmness.

But there was admittedly something about Gojo’s cursed energy that stood apart. Merging with him felt... natural. Like his energy wasn’t just accepting of yours, but welcoming, pulling you in with an ease that was almost magnetic. You last longer in the merged state with him, your abilities amplified in a way that feels effortless. It’s a fact he takes great pride in, often teasing you about it with a smirk.

“Guess my energy is just built different,” he says, smirking. “No one else can keep up with you like I can, huh?”

It’s infuriatingly true, and he knows it. But his smugness doesn’t stop you from practicing with others. After all, you can’t rely on him for everything.

One day you decide to practice with Nanami in one of the training rooms. His cursed energy is steady as always, and you focus on syncing your flow with his, attempting to enter his body the same way you do with Gojo. The process is slower, less intuitive than when it’s with Gojo, but you’re making good progress.

You’re in the middle of a successful merge when you feel a strange presence, faint but undeniably familiar. Turning your head slightly, you spot a flash of white hair peeking around the corner of the doorway.

At first, you think you must be imagining it. But then the head tilts, and you catch the unmistakable glint of Gojo’s dark sunglasses reflecting the light.

Was he seriously spying on you?

It takes all your self-control not to burst out laughing. You can’t tell if Nanami is unaware, or just ignoring the figure at the door, though you assume the latter. He just continues with his usual calm focus, adjusting his stance and refocusing his cursed energy.

You glance back at the doorway, only to find Gojo glaring. Not at you, but at Nanami. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his expression is a mix of a pout and a death glare, like a sulking child who’d been told to share their favorite toy.

He catches your gaze and immediately straightens up, feigning innocence. With exaggerated casualness, he leans against the wall, whistling as if he hadn’t just been caught.

“Don’t mind me,” he calls out, his voice entirely too loud and cheerful. “Just passing by. Carry on!”

Nanami sighs, clearly unimpressed. “Gojo, if you’re going to spy, at least be subtle about it.”

“I wasn’t spying,” Gojo retorts, strolling into the room with his hands shoved in his pockets. “I was monitoring. Big difference.”

“Sure,” you say, smirking. “You’re monitoring my progress with Nanami. That’s why you were hiding behind the corner and glaring at him, right?”

Gojo’s eyes widen in mock offense, one hand flying to his chest. “Glaring? Me? I don’t glare. I radiate charm and positivity.”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about Gojo’s inability to take anything seriously.

Gojo ignores him, turning his full attention to you. “Anyway, you’ve been practicing enough with him. Time to come back to the one and only,” he declares, pointing at himself with a dramatic flourish.

“Jealous much?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? Jealous? Pfft, never.” But the faint flush creeping up his neck betrays him.

Nanami, ever the professional, simply rolls his eyes. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says, stepping back. “Good luck.”

You both know the last part is directed towards you.

As soon as Nanami leaves, Gojo sidles up to you, his grin a mix of smugness and relief. “So, how’d it go?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes betraying his curiosity.

“Fine,” you reply, being deliberately vague.

“Just fine?” he presses, leaning in closer.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “…Your cursed energy still feels the best.”

The triumphant grin that spreads across his face is both endearing and irritating. “Knew it,” he says, ruffling your hair.

---

Your new life is strange. But you grow used to it. You grow close to the staff members and students at the school and become more familiar with your cursed technique.

Over time, merging with Gojo becomes second nature. But what surprises you the most isn’t how well your cursed energies sync. It’s the emotions you begin to feel through the connection.

At first, it was fleeting impressions. An ache that wasn’t yours, a flicker of sadness that disappeared almost as soon as it surfaced. It was like catching shadows in the corner of your eye. Easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

But you were paying attention.

Through these merges, you truly begin to understand him. Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer alive, but also someone who carries an almost invisible weight on his shoulders. You can sense his loneliness. It’s heavy, quiet, and constant, masked by his confidence and easy laughter. You begin to see the cracks in his carefree facade, the moments of vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see.

Beneath the teasing remarks and self-assured smiles was a man who bore the pain of loss and the burden of protecting a world that barely understood him.

You can’t shake the feeling. It lingers long after the merges end. You find yourself wanting to do something, anything, to ease that aching loneliness.

You start paying attention to him in ways no one else had.

When he cracks one of his terrible jokes, you laugh. Though not out of pity, but because more often than not, he’s actually hilarious in his own absurd way. When he tugs you away during missions to slack off, you go along without complaint. You let him have his fun, matching his playful energy with a smile of your own. You find his cheerful grin and happiness worth every second of it.

The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself saying “yes.” Yes to his impromptu plans, late-night snack runs, and the ridiculous detours he insists on taking just because something caught his eye. Every spontaneous moment and silly adventure feels like a glimpse into a part of him the world rarely gets to see. A part he doesn’t let anyone else in on.

And slowly, things began to shift.

He doesn’t have to beg Nanami or Shoko to join him anymore because he has you. You’re the one he starts to seek out. Because you’re one of the few people who can offer him genuine comfort.

You see how his eyes light up when you listen to him ramble on about various topics, how his posture relaxes when you’re around. Slowly but surely, the walls he had built around himself start to crumble for you.

---

The streets of Tokyo are alive tonight. Lanterns light the pathways, casting a warm glow over the festival-goers. The scent of grilled skewers and sweet treats lingers in the air, mingling with the distant crackle of fireworks. You walk beside Gojo, his towering frame impossible to miss even in this crowd. His blindfold is in place as always, covering his eyes from your view. But you can tell he’s enjoying himself from the faint but genuine smile tugging the corners of his lips.

You had toured the festival together, eating your fill of tasty street food, and laughing as Gojo tried (and failed) to win you a stuffed animal from a claw machine. As the night winds down, the streets grow quieter, the hum of the festival fading into the distance. Gojo suggests taking a walk, and soon, the two of you find yourselves on a secluded hill overlooking the city. The soft glow of Tokyo stretches out below.

Gojo tugs his blindfold down, letting it rest loosely around his neck. His snowy white hair ruffles in the wind as he closes his eyes for a moment, letting the cool night breeze brush against his face.

He’s still holding his dango stick, though it’s down to one last piece. With a smirk, he holds it out to you.

“Wanna try?” he asks, his voice light and teasing.

You lean down, taking a bite. The sweetness of the sauce melts on your tongue.

“It’s good!” you exclaim, glancing up at him with a smile. But you pause when you see the way he’s looking at you.

His gaze isn’t teasing or playful like usual. It’s different. Softer, unguarded. His vivid blue eyes are fixed on you, admiring you like you’d hung the very stars that shine down upon you both.

The vibrant hues of the fireworks reflect off your face, your hair gently blowing back in the night breeze. And in that moment, with the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, the way your smile lit up the world around you, he realized something he couldn’t deny any longer.

He was hopelessly, utterly, entirely in love with you.

You tilt your head, a little confused. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

That snaps him out of it, and he lets out a soft laugh. “No,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent. “…You’re perfect.”

As the city lights sparkle below and the wind carries the distant echoes of the fireworks overhead, standing next to you, he wonders if this was the happiness he had been craving.

He doesn’t even realize his Infinity begins instinctively sneaking around you, hovering just above your skin, careful not to be absorbed by your technique. In time, it becomes second nature to him. Because in Gojo’s mind, you’re not just beside him, you’re a part of him.

He never realized how much he needed you until you were here with him.

But happiness, you learn, is fleeting in the world of jujutsu sorcery.

---

Kenjaku had heard of you. Your cursed technique, the ability to merge with other sorcerers, and amplify their power. Such a gift was dangerous, especially when paired with someone like Gojo. He recognizes the danger you pose if you’re allowed to grow stronger, especially under Gojo’s protection. But Kenjaku is patient. That’s why he waits. Waits for the perfect moment, when you would be at your most vulnerable.

Shibuya, 9:27 PM. Gojo Satoru was sealed.

You wander the winding halls of the subway alone, eyes frantically darting all around you. Where was he?

You two had arrived at the scene together, alongside the other sorcerers, but it soon became clear the situation was much graver and more calculated than anyone had first expected. Gojo headed towards Fukutoshin Line Platform alone, entrusting you with Nanami and the remaining sorcerers. Nanami made sure you stuck close to him, not letting you out of his sight for a second as you two split off from the other sorcerers to search for Ijichi, who had mysteriously gone silent on the intercoms a while ago. You couldn’t help but feel pity for the man. You already knew how insufferable Gojo could sometimes be towards him. You hoped he was alright.

Nanami led you through the streets above, the city now a warzone. Buildings shook, the air thick with cursed energy. You followed his lead, searching for Ijichi amid the destruction. The cursed energy in the air continued to grow heavier, more menacing. And then you heard it. The sound of a swarm. A wave of curses emerged from the shadows, surrounding Nanami in an instant. He fought them off with a calm precision, but there were too many.

You couldn’t get close enough to touch him, couldn’t merge with him to amplify his strength. You tried to fight, but without a partner, your cursed technique was nearly useless.

“Run,” Nanami ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. “I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Go!” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your heart pounding, you turned and ran. The only place not teeming with curses was the underground subway entrance, so you slipped inside, cursing yourself for your own weakness.

---

That’s how you end up in your current predicament.

The subway is eerily quiet, the faint tremors of battle above shaking the walls. Dust particles fall from the ceiling as the yellow tinged led lights overhead flicker on and off. The air is thick with the stench of blood and curses. You swallow your fear and keep pushing forward in the dimly lit corridors. The sound of your footsteps seem to echo too loudly off the walls as your eyes dart around, searching desperately for Gojo.

“Gojo?” Your voice trembles as you call out for him, the silence swallowing your words. Something wasn’t right.

The floor beneath you shudders violently, and for a brief moment, you think the ceiling might collapse. You didn’t know it, but Sukuna and Mahoraga were clashing above, their battle shaking the city to its core.

You turn the corner. And you freeze.

You come face to face with a humanoid curse. Dead, greyish blue eyes and hair, and a patchwork face. His eyes widen with excitement as he spots you. You had seen the report from Nanami. His name was…

Mahito. A crazed grin stretches across his face, eyes glinting with manic glee as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against.

“Ohhh, you’re the one they’re all talking about.” He tilts his head.

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to remain calm, or at least give off the pretense of it. “Stay back,” you warn, your cursed energy flaring.

He keeps talking like he doesn’t even hear your words. “I wonder… what happens if I do this?”

His hand lashes out faster than you can process, aiming for your arm, intending to twist your flesh and warp your body just enough to incapacitate you.

But nothing happens.

His palm presses against your skin, and he feels it. That pull. Like his cursed energy is slipping away, getting swallowed into a void.

Mahito’s grin falters for the first time.

He jerks his hand back, staring at you with narrowed eyes. Then realization dawns.

“Ah… right. That’s your cursed technique, isn’t it?”

His confusion quickly twists back into delight.

“Oh, this’ll be fun. No wonder Kenjaku wants you alive”

You take a step back to run, but he moves faster. His fist connects with your stomach, and the impact sends you lurching into the concrete wall, where you slump to the ground.

“Alive doesn’t mean unharmed.” He crouches down to grab you by the collar. “You’ll come with me now.”

The damp, musty air clings to your skin when you wake in the dark, your head pounding. The walls of a dingy cell press in around you, suffocating in their emptiness. No sunlight reached here, only the faint, flickering light of a distant bulb that barely illuminated the room.

Your limbs feel like lead, barely able to resist as Kenjaku runs countless experiments, one after the other on you. The sting of a needle piercing your skin feels all too familiar now, followed by the burn of whatever strange liquid he would inject into your veins. Each time, it drags you into unconsciousness, the edges of reality slipping away.

You have the same reoccurring nightmare every time. You see Satoru walking ahead of you, but no matter how fast you run, how loudly you call out to him, his back only grows smaller and smaller. Your hands reach out futilely towards him, but he doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t stop. Then he’s gone. And all you’re left with are the whispers. Cruel, taunting voices in the back of your mind.

If only you had done something differently.

You let him down.

He’s not coming for you.

The ground beneath your feet cracks, a void forming and swallowing you whole. You let out a soundless scream as you fall, knowing he wouldn’t be there to catch you. Then you wake in a cold sweat. There was no solace for you, no relief. The darkness of the cell is no better than the darkness of the void.

You’re growing weaker. You miss him. Desperately. Miss that familiar warmth of his cursed energy, miss his teasing voice, miss those kind, comforting eyes.

Groggily, you open your eyes, the faint sound of voices breaking through the fog in your head. Kenjaku and Mahito are speaking just outside your cell. You don’t know how many days it’s been. Your throat aches, you’re so thirsty. Their words come slowly, distorted by your exhaustion, taking time to process in your mind.

“…too dangerous to use…” Kenjaku’s voice is measured, clinical.

“Absorbing curses if she’s near them too long…” Mahito adds.

“So then, a waste of time.” Kenjaku concludes, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Her ability is far too advantageous for the sorcerers. If she remains, she’ll only become a liability to us.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. Were they planning on getting rid of you? Then that meant… Your body jolts as the barred gate is thrown open loudly, and you scramble to your feet using what remains of your strength. Mahito steps towards you wearing a terrifyingly wide smile. Too wide. He’s still talking to Kenjaku, though in your panic you can’t hear what he’s saying properly. The sound of your pounding heart fills your ears. You attempt to back away from him but you can only move so far before your back hits the wall. You see his mouth move again.

“If she serves no purpose to us then… why don’t we just get rid of her?”

His cold hands wrap around your throat, before you can process it. He’s squeezing, watching you choke and claw at his hands. He only laughs at your attempts to struggle, clearly unhinged. Tears fill your eyes, flowing down your cheeks. He coos in mock sympathy at the sight. It was sickening. Was this really how you were going to die? Your vision becomes hazy as your hands slowly drop to your sides.

The ground trembles beneath you as a deafening explosion tears through the air. The crushing grip around your throat falters in shock, and you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Shards of debris cascade around you like a deadly rain, but all you can feel is the warmth of sunlight spilling across your skin. It’s warm. A warmth you’d almost forgotten.

Blinking through the haze, your eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden brightness. You see a tall silhouette standing within the light, his white hair illuminated like a halo, his piercing blue eyes filled with raw fury. It’s him.

Satoru.

He looks frantic, his gaze locking onto you. You don’t remember what happens next as you finally pass out, but you swear you can hear your captor’s pitiful screams weaving their way into your dreams.

---

When your eyes open again, the harsh glow of artificial lights fills your vision. It takes a moment to register where you are. Shoko’s clinic. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air, and the faint beeping of monitors accompanies the sluggish rhythm of your heart. Your body feels impossibly heavy, and the stiff brace around your neck prevents you from moving your head.

Your eyes begin to dart around the room, searching, desperate. The heart monitor beside you spikes erratically. Panic claws at your chest, tears stinging your eyes before you even understand why. You don’t know why you’re crying, just that you need to see him, badly.

Then a warm hand wraps firmly around your own. You recognize the touch instantly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is soft, steady, pulling you back from the edge. “I’m right here. You’re awake… thank god.”

Your body relaxes hearing his familiar voice, and a shaky breath escapes your lips, one you hadn’t realized you were holding. The bed shifts slightly as he leans over, his face coming into view.

And that’s when the tears fall in earnest.

You try to speak, but your throat is raw, the words breaking apart between hiccups. “I— I m-missed you so much— I…”

He silences you with an understanding smile, his thumb brushing gently at the tears streaking your cheeks. “I know. I know. I’m here now, okay? You’re safe.” His voice is quiet, soothing, but there’s a tremor of something beneath it. Relief, fear, maybe both.

He stays by your side, his hand never leaving yours, as silence settles between you. You finally notice how exhausted he looks. Dark circles shadowing his usually bright eyes, his normally neat hair a tousled mess. Even so, to you, he’s never looked more beautiful.

“You scared me, you know?” he murmurs after a while, the words almost too quiet to hear. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You want to apologize, but your voice catches. So instead, you squeeze his hand weakly.

---

A few days later, as you’re discharged, Shoko explains your injuries in her usual clipped tone. Your body is severely malnourished, and the curse had nearly fractured a vital bone in your neck. If Gojo had arrived even a few seconds later… she doesn’t finish the sentence, but her expression betrays the relief she doesn’t say aloud.

“You need to rest—no overexertion, no training, no missions,” Shoko warns, fixing you with a stern look. “I mean it. Don’t make me hunt you down.” Although her tone is clipped, you can tell she’s just as relieved as everyone else that you’re okay.

You manage a small smile, thankful for her concern for you. You make a mental note to gift her a bottle of her favorite wine later as thanks. Checking your phone, you notice a timid message from Ijichi, kindly pleading with you to try not to get kidnapped ever again, because Gojo was an absolute pain to deal with.

You find out later from reports that there was nothing left of the place, just rubble and ash. He had obliterated it all. Somehow Kenjaku had managed to escape during the chaos. But Mahito… it was a bloodbath. He didn’t stand a chance. The sheer devastation speaks volumes, but what hits you harder is the knowledge that he hadn’t stopped for even a moment. The second he was unsealed and heard about your disappearance—your likely kidnapping—he was livid. He didn’t rest once until he found you, until you were back in his arms where you belonged.

It was the first time you saw just how deep his need for you went.

You’re badly shaken. The events will haunt you for the rest of your life, your first taste of the brutality and violence of the Jujutsu world. But it’s clear Satoru fared even worse. After that he doesn’t leave your side for days, hovering constantly, as if afraid that you might disappear again the second he looks away. The whole experience serves as a painful reminder to him of your vulnerability. Without him, you were a target, easy prey for those who sought to exploit or destroy you. The thought eats away at him.

“You’re moving in with me,” he says one day, standing over you with an air of finality that left no room for argument.

You blink up at him from the couch, still recovering. “What?”

“It’s not up for debate,” he continues, arms crossed. “You’re safer with me. No one can get to you if you’re in my home.”

You take a moment to consider, but you find that you don’t really want to argue with him anyway. You can hear the hidden plea beneath his words. A part of you knows he’s right. If this is what he needs to find some semblance of peace of mind, then so be it. And a quieter, more selfish part of you doesn’t mind the idea of being close to him, spending more time with him.

“Okay,” you finally relent.

That’s how you find yourself standing in his penthouse a few hours later, what few belongings you own packed neatly into a bag at your side.

The penthouse is just as over-the-top as you expected: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek furniture, and little touches of Gojo’s eccentric personality scattered throughout.

“This is... a lot,” you murmur, taking in the sprawling space.

“Only the best for me, and now for you,” he says with a wink, tossing your bag onto the plush couch.

What catches your attention the most is the care he takes in making space for you. Your favorite snacks fill a section of the fridge, an extra toothbrush sits beside his in the bathroom, and a cozy corner of his study has been cleared out for you. It’s the little things, the quiet gestures, that tell you just how much this means to him.

But even as you settle into this new rhythm, something doesn’t sit right with you.

Satoru starts taking on more missions, alone. Where he used to insist on dragging you along for backup, now he refuses. Each time you bring it up, his excuses are vague, his tone dismissive.

Lately he had been returning home later and later, some nights not at all. His once-vibrant energy feels dimmed, like he’s burning himself out trying to shoulder more than even he can bear.

You hate seeing him like this.

The curses have been more active than ever, and you know he’s overworked. You try your best to help him with what you can, managing the paperwork, maintaining the space you shared, even preparing meals for him. But it’s not enough. He’s still stuck with the belief that as the strongest, he had to carry everything himself. You frown at the thought. You wish you could do more for him.

You hear the front door open, and you rush out of your shared bedroom to greet him. But your smile fades as you see him standing there, shoulders sagging with exhaustion, his usual carefree grin nowhere to be seen.

Your heart aches at how drained and worn out he looks. You tentatively step closer to him, wanting to soothe him but unsure of how. His blindfold keeps you from seeing his eyes, as if acting as the barrier between you and his true self. You feel an urge to pull it down. He lets you, hands resting at his sides as you gently tug down his blindfold. His weary eyes meet your own. Those usually sparkling eyes, now dull and lifeless.

You don’t know why you do it. It must have been instinctive. You just want to be able to lighten his pain and offer him rest, even just the slightest amount. Your hands move on their own, rising to lightly rest over his tired eyes. Covering them completely.

But the second your hands cover his eyes, his breath hitches. He can’t see anything. No cursed energy, no shapes, no flickering auras; its just darkness, pure and quiet. He’s stunned. His hands shakily reach up, wrapping around your wrists. Not to stop you, but to keep you there. Like if he lets go, that peace might disappear.

“What do you see?” you ask softly, almost afraid to disturb the stillness.

“Nothing. Nothing but you. Only you,” he murmurs, his voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter the moment.

Gojo, burdened by his Six Eyes from birth. He had spent his whole life seeing everything, constantly overwhelmed by the endless stream of cursed energy and the weight of being the strongest. He can only find true relief with you. For once, he isn’t the strongest sorcerer, the invincible figure everyone relies on. With you, he’s just Satoru, resting in the soft comfort of your hands, shielded from the constant noise of the world.

From that moment on, it becomes your thing together. After long, grueling missions where he’s pushed to his limits, when his mind is frayed and his vision is burned with cursed energy, he’d search for you, tugging gently on your hands, silently asking for comfort. He leans into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Sometimes he pulls you into his lap, burying his face into your neck, quietly asking, “Just for a minute… please…”

And you allow him as long as he needs, stroking his hair gently. Letting him enjoy that rare, sacred peace.

The intimacy deepens his attachment to you in ways he never thought possible. You’re no longer just his assistant, his partner. You’re the one person in the world who truly understands him, makes him feel human. It’s in these stolen moments, when the world falls away and it’s just the two of you, that he realizes how much he truly needs you. And when he thinks about how fragile you are, how vulnerable, it terrifies him.

You’re my everything, he thinks to himself one night, as your body rests above his. The room is quiet, save for the faint sound of your breaths and the steady rhythm of Satoru’s heartbeat beneath you. You lay sprawled across his chest, your cheek resting against him as his arms hold you close to him.

Maybe that fear is the reason his arms wrap around you just a tad tighter, why he holds you flush to his own body as if afraid you’ll disappear.

“What do you think about having kids one day?”

Satoru blinks, caught completely off guard by your question. He stares at you, his mouth opening slightly before closing again. For once, Gojo Satoru, the man who always had something clever to say, was at a loss for words.

“You—kids?” he finally manages, his voice slightly hoarse.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. Kids.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, tilting his head back against the pillow as he processes your words. “Huh. You really know how to throw a guy off, don’t you?”

Your smile widens, and you prop yourself up on his chest, looking down at him. “I’m serious, Satoru. What do you think?”

His eyes flicker to yours, searching your expression for any hint of doubt, any sign that you might be joking. But you aren’t. You’re completely serious.

“I… I never thought about it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I never thought I’d want something like that. Or that I could even have it.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Why not?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. “Because I’m me,” he says simply. “The strongest. The guy everyone depends on. The guy who…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I never thought I deserved that kind of happiness. Not with the life I’ve lived. Not with all the things I’ve done.”

You feel a pang of sadness at his words, and you reach up, brushing your fingers gently along his jawline. “You deserve to be happy, Satoru,” you say softly. “You deserve to have a family, to have someone who loves you unconditionally. And you know what?”

He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t quite place.

“I think you’d be an amazing dad,” you continue, your voice steady and sincere.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable. But then his lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say, your voice firm.

He lets out a quiet laugh, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You make me believe it,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. When you pull back, his eyes are still locked on yours, searching, as if he was trying to commit this moment to memory.

"We'd make a cute kid," he eventually says, a genuine smile spreading across his face, one that makes your heart swell.

You can’t help but grin back, bright and contagious. His hands slide to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he guides you gently toward him.

And then he kisses you, slowly, deeply, as if pouring all of his emotions into that single moment.

In his arms, you feel it. The warmth, the love, the unspoken promise of a future that seems a little brighter, a little fuller.

With him, it feels right.

---

The kiss lingers in your mind, even as the two of you walk side by side toward the battlefield. The warmth of his hand in yours grounds you. His long fingers curl tightly around yours, as if to anchor you to him. To remind you of his silent promise.

I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you.

But even with his reassurances, there’s a weight in the air, heavy and oppressive. You both know this fight isn’t like the others. Ahead of you, Sukuna’s cursed energy crackles in the distance, dark and suffocating, a storm that threatens to swallow everything whole.

Gojo’s grip on your hand tightens as you near the edge of the battlefield, and the two of you come to a stop. You glance up at him, and the sight takes your breath away. His white haori catches the breeze, billowing behind him like the wings of an angel sent to bring judgment. To you, maybe he was exactly that.

His hair is wild, tousled by the wind, and his blindfold is gone, leaving his piercing blue eyes on full display. They glimmer with an intensity that’s equal parts terrifying and beautiful. But beneath the crystalline clarity of his gaze, you see something softer. Something meant only for you.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice soft yet steady, the calm within the chaos.

You nod, your hand squeezing his in quiet reassurance. “Always.”

For a moment, the world seems to fall away. It’s just the two of you standing there, bound together by something deeper than words. You wish he didn’t have to fight. You wish things were different, that there was another way. But you know this is the path he has to walk. The world is counting on him. They always have.

So you’ll stand by him, no matter what.

Somewhere in the pit of your stomach, the uneasy feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong begins to take root.

---

The air crackles with cursed energy as Gojo and Sukuna stand, facing each other. The battlefield is in ruins, the ground scorched and torn as the clash of the two strongest sorcerers continues. Gojo stands in the center of it all, his body aching, his cursed energy reserves dangerously low. But inside him, he can feel you, your cursed energy merging with his, amplifying his strength, your unwavering determination giving him the edge he needed to keep fighting. Your presence is warm, steady, even as you pour every ounce of your strength into helping him.

But he knows what you’re doing.

“Stop it,” he grows, his voice strained as he sends another powerful attack towards Sukuna. His words aren’t aimed towards his enemy, but at you. “You’re pushing yourself too far. I can handle this.” “No, you can’t,” your voice echoes softly in his mind, calm yet firm. “Not alone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he blocks another strike, his fingers trembling from the strain. He can feel it, feel your energy fading, slipping through his fingers like sand. It’s not just his body weakening. It’s you giving everything you had, pouring your soul into protecting him.

“Damn it, stop!” he shouts, his frustration boiling over. But you can hear the desperation and worry beneath the words. “I’m telling you, don’t do this! I won’t let you-”

“You don’t get to decide this, Satoru.” There’s a bittersweet smile in your voice, one he feels deep in his chest. “If it means keeping you alive, I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

He freezes for a fraction of a second, Sukuna’s cleave grazing his shoulder. His eyes widen in a panic as your words register. “No- no, don’t talk like that. We’re getting out of this together, you hear me?”

You don’t reply. Instead, he feels his arm raising on its own, his hand forming the symbol for a hollow purple. But he’s not the one in control. You are, your cursed energy overriding his will, guiding his body. The over exertion from the devastating technique would drain you completely. You both know it.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely audible now. “Thank you… for everything. For making me feel like I wasn’t alone. For loving me. I’m sorry...”

“No. No, no no!” Gojo cries out desperately, as he tries to force his arms down. But his own body doesn’t listen to him, controlled by you using the last of your energy. The blinding glow of purple grows bigger at his finger tips, ready to end the battle. “Don’t you dare say goodbye to me! Don’t you dare-”

But then, he feels it. The moment you fade entirely. That comforting presence, the warmth he’d grown so used to. It was gone. His fingers release in that instant, his hollow purple launching forward with imperceivable speed, overpowering Sukuna in a brilliant burst of energy. It was over. Gojo had won. But victory feels like ashes in his mouth.

Because you were gone.

As the dust settles, he falls to his knees, his chest heaving. His hands claw at his heart, trying to feel for you, trying to sense even a sliver of your presence, but there was nothing. Nothing but a hollow, aching void, filling every crevice.

“No,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “No, no, no. Come back. Come back to me!” He clutches at his chest, tears streaming down his face as he calls your name over and over again. “Please… don’t leave me. I need you. I need you…”

Then, a faint glow emerges from his chest. He freezes, his breath hitching as he watches a small, delicate gem form in his hand. A teardrop shaped crystal, shimmering faintly with the last traces of your essence. It’s beautiful, radiant, and it breaks his heart into a million pieces.

He stares at it, tears dripping onto the gem as he cradles it in his palm. All that’s left of you. His hands shake as he holds it to his chest, gripping it tightly as if afraid it might vanish. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the sobs wrack his body. “I should have protected you… I should have stopped you… Why did you do this for me?” His voice cracks, raw with pain.

“You promised we’d stay together…”

---

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months. He barely sleeps anymore. Reduced to a shell of the man he used to be. He has the gem crafted into a necklace, the delicate pendant resting over his heart at all times. He clutches it during sleepless nights, fingers brushing over its smooth surface as he whispers your name into the silence.

“Do you know how much I miss you?” he murmurs one night, his voice hoarse. He’d been crying, again. He always did when the nights were too quiet. “Do you know how much it hurts to wake up every day without you here?” His thumb traces the edges of the gem as if it could bring you back.

Sometimes, when the moonlight hits the gem just right, it seems to shimmer, and he swears he can feel a faint warmth radiating from it. As if you were reassuring him. It’s foolish, he knows, but it’s the only thing keeping him sane at this point.

“I still look for you,” he admits quietly. “In the crowds. In my dreams.”

His voice cracks, and he bows his head, tears falling freely. “I miss you so much. I miss everything about you. Your laugh. Your touch. Your stupid little jokes.” His grip on the gem tightens. “God, I’d give anything to hear you again. To feel you again. Just… once.”

He pauses, his breath catching.

“If I had known…”

His voice trails off as he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Had I known I wouldn’t see you again,

I would have said goodbye.

Unbeknownst to him, the gem begins to glow faintly, a soft, warm light pulsing from within. At first, it’s subtle, almost imperceptible. But then the light grows brighter, more radiant, until it fills the room, making his breath hitch. He freezes, staring at it with wide eyes. For a second, he thinks he’s hallucinating, his grief playing cruel tricks on him. But then he feels it. The familiar hum of your cursed energy. A presence he hadn’t felt in so long.

“…No,” he whispers, weakly shaking his head in disbelief. “No, this can’t be…”

The light begins to shift and shape itself, materializing into something he thought he’d never see again.

You.

“Satoru,” you say, your voice soft and warm, filled with love and longing.

He doesn’t move at first. He can’t. He just stares at you, his entire body trembling. “…Is this real?” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Are you real?”

You smile at him, stepping closer. “It’s real,” you say gently. “I’m real.”

He reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might disappear if he touches you. But the moment his hand brushes against yours, his composure shatters. He pulls you into his arms, clutching you tightly, face buried in your shoulder as his body shakes with quiet sobs.

“You’re here,” he says breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re really here…”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him just as tightly. “I’m here,” you murmur, your voice soothing. “I’m sorry it took so long, Satoru. My cursed energy… it was all but gone after the battle. But there was a sliver of me left in that gem. Over time, I slowly regained my strength… enough to come back to you.”

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks at you, his tears streaming freely. “I thought I lost you,” he chokes out. “I thought you were gone forever.”

You smile, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. “I was never really gone,” you say softly. “You kept me close the whole time. Thanks for taking such good care of me, even in gem form,” you can’t help but add with a chuckle.

His laugh is shaky, barely more than a breath. “Of course I did,” he says, his voice low and trembling. “It was the one thing that kept me sane. The only thing I had left of you.”

Your heart aches at his words, and you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry for putting you through all that,” you whisper against his lips. “But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a long, shaky breath. “You’d better not,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t…”

“You won’t,” you promise, your hands resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You saved me, Satoru. You saved everyone. You were so brave. So strong. I’m so proud of you.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I didn’t save you,” he says quietly. “You saved me. You always have.”

You smile softly, your hands brushing through his hair. “Then let’s call it even,” you say, your voice light and teasing.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru smiles, warm and genuine, brimming with everything he feels for you. He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go.

His warmth was the first thing you felt as you entered this strange world. You hope it’s the last thing you’ll feel as you one day leave it behind, together with him.