#and in hindsight i'm thankful for that too

[luvvictoria]

A gate to hell

+ pairings. suguru geto x f!reader/satoru gojo x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, cheating, betrayal, dark romance themes, love triangle (more like a square), secrets and lies, eventual smut

+ status.on-going

+ official playlist.by victo

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part

+ a/n. Reblog with your favorite line! It would help me to grow my account !! Thank you in advance. Thank you so much for your support ! It means very much to me! Also if you want to take a little peek at the next chapter here is my ko-fi !! Also, this is the last chapter of my fanfic, thank you so much for reading this shit, and also I'm very grateful for the amaizing people that had been here from the beggining , I love you so much guys and I'm thankful for your support !

These secrets in my head Oh, how they burdened me These secrets in my head Burdened with urgency If I tell you one or two or three Can you keep them a thing between you and me? Dirty secrets

Days following Yo’s arrest were a never-ending nightmare of fear and guilt. Satoru, who had always taken pride in being the protector, the one others could rely on, now found himself drowning in a sea of doubt. The weight of betrayal from Haibara’s arrest and Suguru’s actions had shattered everything he thought he knew about the people closest to him. The walls around him seemed to be closing in, and he could no longer escape the suffocating feeling that his world was crumbling. Each day, he questioned whether Suguru would betray him too. The constant gnawing suspicion wore at him, a shadow that followed him wherever he went, refusing to let him rest. The more he thought about it, the more it ate away at him. Was Suguru — his oldest friend, his closest confidant — capable of the same treachery?

Satoru withdrew, his isolation growing as he distanced himself from everyone. The dread inside him was all-consuming, clouding his mind with doubts and fears. His mind kept spiraling, replaying everything that had happened. The betrayal felt personal, a brutal gut punch that he couldn’t shake off. He had always seen Suguru as a brother, someone who would stand by him no matter what. But now, he was left to confront the ugly truth: Suguru had been hiding his true nature for so long, and Satoru had been blind to it. His heart ached with the realization that the person he had trusted most in the world was no longer someone he could rely on.

Suguru’s actions, once unfathomable, now seemed inevitable in hindsight. The carefully crafted mask Suguru had worn for years was finally slipping, revealing the darkness beneath. What Satoru had once believed to be loyalty, friendship, and shared purpose now felt like a twisted game that Suguru had been playing from the start. And the worst part was that Satoru had played along, unknowingly complicit in Suguru’s manipulations. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant weight in his chest that refused to be ignored.

But nothing could have prepared Satoru for what came next — the cruel revelation that shattered what little was left of his trust in Suguru. [Name] had uncovered Suguru’s affair, the betrayal deeper than Satoru could have imagined. The love they once shared had been a lie, a web of deceit that had spun around them without their knowing. [Name] walked away, their heart broken and trust destroyed, leaving Suguru alone in the wake of his own selfishness. The breakup was explosive, a violent eruption of emotions that left nothing but a trail of broken promises and shattered hearts.

Suguru, now left to face the consequences of his actions, fell apart. He withdrew further into himself, the pain of his choices too much to bear. His world, once filled with power and control, had come crashing down around him. He had lost everything — [Name], Yo, Haibara, even Satoru — and he didn’t know how to cope. His mind was a swirling storm of rage, regret, and fear, and in his desperation, he turned to drugs and alcohol, seeking an escape from the chaos he had created. But even as the substances dulled the pain, they couldn’t silence the growing emptiness inside him. The weight of his own self-destruction was suffocating, and he couldn’t outrun the darkness closing in on him.

Satoru, despite everything, still felt an unshakable pull to help Suguru. The anger and betrayal that festered inside him couldn’t erase the years of friendship, the brotherhood they had once shared. So, one night, when he found Suguru passed out in a filthy bathroom, surrounded by smoke and empty bottles, Satoru’s first instinct was to help. It should have been satisfying, seeing Suguru unravel, paying for his mistakes. But instead, Satoru felt a deep, hollow sorrow. Suguru was beyond saving now, a man broken beyond repair.

But when Satoru approached him, Suguru’s eyes snapped open, wild and manic. A surge of energy radiated from him, and before Satoru could react, Suguru lunged at him, attacking with a rage that sent a shiver down his spine. The years of friendship, the trust they had once shared, meant nothing in this moment. Suguru was no longer the person Satoru had known. He was someone else, consumed by the darkness within him. Satoru managed to defend himself, escaping with only a few shallow scars, but the intensity of Suguru’s rage left him shaken.

“Enough,” Satoru muttered, backing away, his voice low, laced with a mix of fear and sorrow. He was ready to leave, to walk away from the destruction that Suguru had become. But just as he turned to go, a dark, mocking chuckle echoed from the kitchen. “Did you think it was that simple?”

Satoru froze, the familiar voice sending a chill down his spine. Sukuna. His heart pounded in his chest as the sound of footsteps approached, each one a reminder of the danger he was in. Before Satoru could react, everything went black, a sharp blow to his head knocking him unconscious.

When he woke, his head throbbed with unbearable pain, and his surroundings were unfamiliar. He was tied to a chair, his arms bound tightly behind him, unable to move. The air was thick with tension, the silence deafening. The only sound was the harsh, guttural voice of a man yelling at him, demanding answers.

“Where is the money?”

Satoru blinked, trying to focus through the pain. His mind was clouded, disoriented, but he recognized the voice. Suguru. He turned his head slowly, his stomach sinking as he saw Suguru standing in front of him.

“You’ve taken the hardest hit,” Suguru said, his voice cold, calculating. “You’re quite the fool.”

Satoru’s chest tightened, the truth sinking in with a crushing weight. Suguru was no longer the man he had trusted. He had become something far darker, a force that could not be reasoned with. The betrayal was complete.

“Suguru…” Satoru whispered, his voice barely audible. His throat was dry, but the question hung in the air. “What the hell have you done?”

Suguru’s smiled, cruel and triumphant. “I realized Haibara was making a fortune,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “I had to play him, control him. I scolded him, but that’s just how it is. It’s a boyish thing, really.”

Satoru’s mind raced, his thoughts jumbled. Haibara had always been paranoid, always speaking in riddles, warning of the danger that loomed over them. He had told Satoru once, "I think the guard is onto me." Suguru had manipulated him, pushed him into a game he couldn’t win. Haibara had been right to be suspicious.

Suguru’s laugh was dark, bitter. “I told him he’d be in trouble for years. He should’ve just told me where he hid the money. But he didn’t trust me. He knew I wasn’t the most trustworthy.” Suguru leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “You’ve been his best friend since you were kids. It was clear he’d tell you. Come on, I know you’re nervous. Just tell me where the money is, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Satoru’s stomach churned. The pieces were falling into place. Suguru had orchestrated Haibara’s downfall, turning him into a pawn in a game he couldn’t possibly win. And now, Satoru was caught in the web, trapped by his own misplaced trust.

“Tell me where the money is,” Suguru repeated, his voice eerily calm. But the madness in his eyes betrayed him. “All the cash is in the garage on Porumbacu Street. " Suguru looked at Satoru and said, " Thanks, bunny. And here’s a little secret to end on a good note.” Suguru paused, savoring the moment, before leaning in closer. “I know my ex-girlfriend was cheating on me with you.”

Satoru’s heart stopped. The shock of the revelation was enough to freeze him in place, his blood turning cold. But before he could react, Suguru’s finger tightened on the trigger.

The shot rang out.

And in that moment, Satoru realized that everything — every decision, every betrayal, every lie — had led him to this. He was trapped in the darkness, in a place where he couldn’t escape, where there was no way out. The last thing he heard was Suguru’s voice, cold and triumphant, before the world went black.

Satoru’s final thought was a quiet, painful question: Was this the end of everything they had once been?

The news hit like a punch to the gut. It was as if time itself had stopped, the world coming to an abrupt halt. The words echoed in [Name]'s ears, a relentless, hollow thrum that drowned out all other sound. Satoru was dead. The announcement flickered on the screen, flashing in bold red letters: “HOMICIDE.” “INVESTIGATION.” It was as if the entire universe had shifted out of place, the ground beneath her feet slipping away. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was tight, as though someone had reached into her ribcage and was slowly squeezing the life out of her.

This couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be.

But the cold, hard reality was there, staring back at her from the television screen. The images blurred together — Satoru’s name, a face too familiar now in the context of death. The world seemed to twist, contorting into a shape that made no sense. A cruel, nightmarish reality that she couldn’t escape. Her phone buzzed incessantly, vibrating like it was a part of her own pulse, but she couldn’t answer.

Not now.

It felt like her limbs had gone numb, her thoughts slow and heavy, as if they were trapped underwater. She couldn’t keep up. Riko’s messages flooded in, frantic and worried, then Utahime’s, the words twisted in agony. Even Haibara’s sister reached out, her text an insistent call to action. Everyone was asking the same question, and none of them had the answer. Where is Satoru? Why haven’t any of us heard from him?

But [Name] knew. Deep down, she knew the answer. They had all felt it long before the truth had come out. The dread had settled into their bones, an unshakable feeling that something was terribly wrong. It had started with the betrayal, the cracks forming in the people she had once trusted with her life — Suguru and Shoko.

That was only the beginning.

The sickness had slowly crept in, worming its way into their lives, and now... now, it had culminated in something she couldn’t have possibly prepared for.

Her mind was a maelstrom of confusion, guilt, and sorrow. She had felt the shift before, seen the signs, but had been too blind, too unwilling to acknowledge them.

How had she not seen it coming?

How had she not known what was happening?

How could I have missed the warning signs?

Satoru had always been the one to protect everyone. He had been the strong one, the leader, the one who took care of them all. And now he was gone. Just like that. She wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but her voice was trapped in her throat. Her chest constricted, suffocating under the weight of a pain she couldn’t express. She couldn’t even bring herself to stand, to move. Her body felt like it was made of stone.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she stared blankly at her phone. Her hands were shaking as she clutched it, the cold screen reflecting the tears she hadn’t yet allowed herself to shed. The messages were piling up, one after another, desperate, worried. Her heart ached with each vibration, each plea for information, each wish for Satoru’s safety. But there was no answer. There would never be an answer again.

She had called him so many times. Her voice, hoarse from the hours of pleading, leaving message after message, desperate to hear his voice, to know he was okay. Satoru, where are you? Please, call me back. Please let me know you’re safe. She had texted him, sending one message after another, never imagining that each one could be the last. She never thought that the silence would stretch on forever, that she would be left here, holding on to a phone that now felt like a cruel reminder of her failure.

The silence had been deafening, and now, she was left to confront the cruel, inevitable truth. Satoru was gone, and she hadn’t been able to save him.

The weight of that realization crushed her, pushing the air from her lungs. It was as if someone had reached into her chest and ripped out her heart, leaving a gaping hole where it had once been. Every part of her ached — her body, her mind, her soul. How could this be happening? How could Satoru, the one person who had always been there for her, be taken so suddenly, so violently?

But as the truth settled in, something darker began to twist inside of her. It wasn’t just that Satoru was gone — it was how he had gone. He had been murdered. And it hadn’t been random. It hadn’t been an accident. No, it had been planned. Calculated. The feeling of betrayal was suffocating, the idea that Satoru’s death was a direct result of the treachery that had been festering for so long. It was as if the people she had trusted most — Suguru, Shoko — had all conspired to bring him down. But why? What could have driven Suguru, someone who had once been Satoru’s closest friend, to do something so monstrous?

The questions circled in her mind, faster and faster, like a whirlpool that she couldn’t escape. Why had Suguru done this? What had pushed him to this point? She had known Suguru, or at least she thought she had. She had trusted him, had believed in the bond they all shared. But now, she realized how naive she had been, how little she had known. Suguru had been playing a game all along — one that had cost them everything. It was his hand that had pulled the trigger, his twisted need for power, for control, that had led to Satoru’s death.

The guilt ate at her. If only she had known. If only she had seen the cracks in Suguru, had recognized the signs sooner, maybe things could have been different. Maybe Satoru would still be here, laughing with them, reminding them that everything would be okay.

But now, it was too late. She had lost him. And with him, she had lost a part of herself. The guilt settled like a weight in her stomach, heavy and relentless. She couldn’t escape it. It was her fault for not seeing what was happening, for not recognizing the signs. For not protecting him.

Tears began to fall, hot and unrelenting, as she finally allowed herself to break. She cried for Satoru, for the loss of someone who had meant everything to her. But she also cried for herself — for the person she had become, for the mistakes she had made, for the trust she had misplaced.

She cried for the world that had fallen apart around her, for the future that had been stolen from them. And she cried for the person she had loved and lost — Satoru, the only one person she could never have imagined living without.

Her mind raced with memories of their time together — his voice, his smile, the way he had always been there for her when no one else was. She could still hear his laughter echoing in her mind, a sound that now felt so distant, so unreachable. She would never hear it again. And that thought, that brutal, final realization, shattered her in ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

The world had turned dark, and she was left in the shadows, questioning everything she had ever believed in. All the people she had trusted, all the bonds she had built, seemed like fragile illusions now. Suguru’s betrayal had torn everything apart. And the only thing left in the wake of Satoru’s death was emptiness.

And a question: How could she ever forgive herself?

It started with Utahime.

She had always been the one to keep them grounded, the one who could hold it all together even when the world around them was crumbling. Her sharp wit, her unyielding calmness — she was the one everyone turned to when the chaos became too much to bear. But when the news of Satoru’s death sank in, even Utahime couldn’t maintain the facade. The weight of it, the loss of their rock, had cracked something deep within her. The steady hands that had once kept their world from spiraling now trembled with fear.

It wasn’t just the loss of Satoru that shattered her, though. It was the looming fear — the knowledge that they were coming for her next. She knew it was only a matter of time before they hunted her down. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she would be spared. They had already taken so much from their group, and Utahime was a threat, too close to the truth.

Utahime didn’t want to face it. Didn’t want to be hunted. She had tried to run, tried to escape before it all came crashing down, but there was no escaping Suguru. He always knew where they were. Always watching, always controlling. He had been playing them from the beginning — pulling strings, sowing distrust, and making sure none of them could ever be truly free. Suguru was the puppet master, and Utahime was just another piece on the board.

In the dead of night, when the air was thick with dread, Utahime had called [Name], her voice thin and strained. It was the sound of a person who had realized too late that they were already caught in the web.

"[Name], they’re coming for me," Utahime’s voice cracked over the phone, and it sent a chill down [Name]’s spine. "I can hear them. I’ve made too many mistakes. They know everything. They know I was trying to escape… I'm sorry…"

The call abruptly cut off, leaving only static in the air. [Name] stood frozen, phone still pressed to her ear, unable to shake the image of Utahime, so strong and defiant, now reduced to a woman broken by the ghosts of her own fear. That was the moment [Name] knew it was already too late for them all.

She didn’t wait. [Name] rushed to Utahime’s apartment, heart pounding in her chest. With every step she took, she felt the darkness closing in, felt the weight of everything spiraling into chaos. She didn’t know what she would find when she arrived, but she already had a sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same.

When she reached Utahime’s apartment, the door was ajar, swinging on its hinges like a silent warning. The quiet of the place felt wrong — too still, too heavy. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back, but she pushed the door open, entering the apartment.

The moment she stepped inside, the smell hit her. It was suffocating, thick with the metallic scent of blood. She choked on it, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but her feet carried her forward, deeper into the apartment. The silence was deafening, oppressive. It clung to the walls, to the floor, as though it had become a part of the very air.

And then she saw it.

Utahime’s body sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide open in shock, frozen in an eternal expression of terror. Her mouth hung slightly open, as if she had tried to scream, to call out for help — but it had been too late. Her body was a lifeless, crumpled shell, the once strong woman reduced to a victim of a fate she had tried so desperately to avoid.

The blood pooled beneath her, dark and sticky, a stark contrast to the pale blue of her skin. There were marks on her neck, deep bruises, like fingers had wrapped around her throat and squeezed the life out of her. But it was more than the physical wounds. It was the absence of life — the absence of the person who had once been their pillar.

[Name] felt her legs give way beneath her. She sank to her knees, her breath catching in her throat, fighting the overwhelming surge of grief and guilt that threatened to crush her. How had it come to this? How had they all been brought to this end?

But as her eyes drifted to the walls of the apartment, she realized it wasn’t just her friend’s body that had been left behind. There was something more sinister, something darker. Words were scrawled on the walls in jagged, uneven letters. Scratches. Messages from Suguru and Sukuna. A taunting, mocking reminder of how powerless they had all become.

You should have seen it coming. You’re all fools. You’re all mine.

The final message was etched across the mirror in Utahime’s bathroom, where she had likely spent her last moments, looking for a way out, a way to escape the suffocating truth. It read:

You'll never escape, Utahime.

[Name] closed her eyes, tears slipping down her face as the weight of the loss settled deep within her. She wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but there was nothing left. No one to fight for her, no one left to fight with her.

She knew, deep down, that Utahime was gone. And soon, they all would be.

But Suguru — Suguru had made sure of it all. He had been playing them, manipulating them, controlling them from the shadows. And now, in the wake of Utahime’s death, [Name] knew with chilling certainty that there was no escaping the nightmare. There would be no reprieve, no salvation. Just darkness.

A silence deeper than any grave.

And in that silence, the reality began to settle over [Name] like a thick fog. This was only the beginning. Suguru and Sukuna had already taken one life. They would take more. One by one, they would tear apart everything she had ever loved, until nothing was left but the broken remnants of what they once were. Dirty secretes

Riko was next.

She had always been the calm one — the strategist, the one who kept her cool in the midst of chaos. In a world teetering on the edge of ruin, Riko was the one who always had a plan. She was the pillar, the one who gave others the sense that maybe, just maybe, they could outsmart their way out of any disaster. But no one had ever accounted for Suguru’s twisted mind, or Sukuna’s unrelenting thirst for destruction. No one had anticipated how far they were willing to go.

Riko had always kept her distance. She had been smart enough to know that staying too close to the storm could pull her into its deadly whirlpool. She had tried to keep out of the mess, knowing full well that her sharp mind made her a target for those who couldn’t tolerate anyone smarter than them. It wasn’t that Riko had feared them — no, it was something deeper. She had known, instinctively, that Suguru and Sukuna would never stop until they had burned everything to the ground, and anyone who could challenge them would be reduced to ash.

But Suguru had planned for this. He had been watching her from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. Riko’s attempt to distance herself, to play her own game of survival, had only made her a more intriguing target. She had never thought she would be caught in their web, but now, she would be just another piece in their sick game.

It happened so quickly. Riko was sitting alone in a small, dimly lit café. The aroma of coffee mixed with the hushed conversations of strangers, and for a brief moment, she could almost convince herself that life was normal again — that the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on her every second of the day. But that fleeting sense of peace was shattered the moment Sukuna walked in.

He didn’t even need to say a word to announce his presence. His dark eyes swept across the room, and it was like the world itself held its breath. Everyone else in the café was too absorbed in their own lives to notice, but Riko saw him the second he stepped through the door. She stiffened, her sharp instincts telling her that the calm of the moment was an illusion, and something much darker was lurking just beneath the surface.

The second their eyes met, it was over. There was nowhere to run. No way to hide. Sukuna closed in on her with an air of finality, his steps slow and deliberate, each one echoing in her chest like a death knell. She tried to stand, tried to leave, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. The walls of the café seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with every passing second.

He cornered her against the wall, his expression cold and cruel. There was no compassion in his eyes, only the gleam of a predator. He didn’t say anything at first — just looked at her with the faintest smirk curling on his lips, as if savoring the moment. And then, in the most casual manner, he whispered something that chilled her to the bone.

“You should’ve known better, Riko,” he said, his voice a smooth, deadly murmur. “You thought you could escape this. But no one ever does.”

Riko’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing. She had always been a step ahead, always calculated her moves carefully, but this… this was different. This was a game she had no control over. She was just a pawn in Suguru’s twisted scheme, and Sukuna was the executioner.

Before she could even react, Sukuna struck. It wasn’t violent, at least not in the way she had anticipated. There was no dramatic flourish, no drawn-out struggle. Just a swift, silent motion. The sound of her own breath escaping her chest as she crumpled to the floor.

Her blood stained the floor of the café, hot and sticky, mingling with the dust and dirt of the world around her. She had never thought it would end like this. Not Riko. Not the one who had always had a plan, the one who had known how to stay calm in the face of danger.

But Riko was gone.

And in the blink of an eye, the world seemed emptier. The absence of her sharp mind, her quiet strength, left a hole that was impossible to fill. She had been more than just a friend. Riko had been a stabilizing force — a person who kept them all tethered to reality when the world threatened to tear them apart.

Now, with her gone, the silence was deafening.

[Name] didn’t know when she had started crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The weight of Riko’s death pressed down on her chest, suffocating her, making it hard to breathe. It felt as though the world itself was collapsing in on her, one piece at a time.

The loss was sharp. A jagged, painful cut deep into her heart, and it hurt in a way she couldn’t describe. She had known they were all in danger, but she never thought it would happen so quickly. Never thought they would lose Riko—the one who had always been there, the one who had kept them grounded.

But now, she was gone. A memory.

[Name] couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how easily it all fell apart — how their once tight-knit group had become nothing more than a series of broken fragments, strewn across the floor like shattered glass. Each death, each loss, was a weight that dragged her down, deeper into the abyss.

And still, Suguru’s shadow loomed large over everything. He had orchestrated this. He had taken Riko from them. He had taken everything from them. And the worst part was, he was enjoying it. Every moment of this twisted game, he was savoring the chaos. Savoring their pain.

[Name] wanted to scream, wanted to rage against it all. But what was the point? She was just another pawn, just another piece in Suguru’s sick game. No matter how hard she fought, it would never be enough. No one would ever be enough. Not while Suguru and Sukuna were still breathing. Dirty secrtes

Nanami had always been the rock. The one who kept his head level even when everything else seemed to be spiraling out of control. He had a way of grounding the others, of finding the quiet in the storm and bringing them back to reality when their emotions threatened to overtake them. But in the end, even Nanami wasn’t immune to Suguru’s manipulations. He had always been sharp, always seen through the lies, but this betrayal was something he hadn’t been prepared for. And it was something Suguru had orchestrated with chilling precision.

Nanami had been investigating, pulling on threads he never should have touched, uncovering secrets that Suguru had worked tirelessly to bury. When he finally pieced it all together, the weight of it crashed down on him like a wave, drowning him in the sheer scale of the betrayal. Suguru hadn’t just been playing the group — he had been playing both sides. And Nanami wasn’t stupid enough to think he could keep it quiet.

So, he did what anyone with a shred of honor would do: he confronted Suguru. They met in the dead of night, somewhere far from prying eyes. Nanami stood tall, his back straight and his jaw clenched, but his eyes... his eyes were full of rage. Rage at the man who had once been his friend, his brother in arms. Rage at the realization that Suguru had sold them out, that the bonds they had shared had been nothing more than a facade.

“You’ve lost everything, Suguru,” Nanami said, his voice cold, but there was a tremor underneath it — betrayal, heartbreak, the unmistakable weight of loss. “You’ve betrayed all of us. You think you can just walk away from this? That we’ll let you get away with it?”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, but Suguru just looked at him with that twisted smile. It was a cruel thing, something Nanami hadn’t seen before — something that made his skin crawl. Suguru wasn’t just breaking their bond, he was toying with it, enjoying the destruction he was causing.

“You think you still matter, Nanami?” Suguru’s voice was sharp, but there was an underlying venom to it that made Nanami’s stomach turn. “You think you’re better than me? You’re just a puppet in a game you’ll never understand.”

Those words cut deeper than anything Nanami had ever heard. It wasn’t just the anger in Suguru’s voice, but the way he seemed to look down on him — dismissive, condescending. Like Nanami had never mattered. Like everything they had fought for, everything they had built together, had been a joke.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Nanami could feel his chest tightening, a knot of emotions — anger, regret, disbelief — building up until it felt like he might snap in half.

"You've gone too far, Suguru," Nanami said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity behind it was undeniable. He was tired. Tired of pretending that everything could be fixed, tired of trying to hold on to something that was already broken beyond repair.

Suguru didn’t respond with words. Instead, the sound of a gunshot rang through the night like a death knell. Nanami didn’t even have time to react. The bullet pierced his chest, and his body crumpled to the ground, his hand grasping at the wound as if he could somehow stop the life from draining out of him.

His vision blurred, the world spinning around him, but there was no fear in his eyes — only regret. He had known this was coming, had known that Suguru was too far gone to be saved, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It wasn’t just the physical pain — it was the emotional weight of everything they had lost. The years of camaraderie, the trust, the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could turn around.

As Nanami’s life slipped away, his final words were lost to the silence, swallowed up by the night. He wanted to scream, to fight, to make Suguru understand that this wasn’t the end they deserved — but all he could do was gasp for breath, feeling his world slip away.

Suguru stood above him, his face unreadable. There was no joy in the act — just a cold, detached finality. He didn’t even look down at the body he had just created. Instead, he turned and walked away, leaving Nanami to bleed out in the shadows, the echoes of his final moments fading into the darkness.

Suguru didn’t need to say anything. The silence spoke volumes. He had won. Dirty secrets

Shoko’s death was perhaps the most personal, the most painful. She had been with Suguru longer than anyone else, and their connection had been one of trust — at least, that’s what Shoko had believed. She had seen the boy he used to be: kind-hearted, brilliant, always thinking five steps ahead but never losing his humanity. Or so she had thought. But as the years passed, that boy had faded, replaced by someone colder, someone consumed by ambition and darkness. And yet, despite the changes, she had clung to the belief that the old Suguru still lingered somewhere deep inside.

It wasn’t a blind trust. Shoko was too intelligent, too sharp to overlook the warning signs. She had seen the cracks in his facade, the inconsistencies in his words, the growing shadow in his eyes. She had heard the whispers of betrayal, felt the weight of his absence during their most vulnerable moments. But she had hoped — foolishly, desperately — that her faith in him would be enough. That she could pull him back before he crossed the point of no return.

That hope shattered the night she confronted him.

It wasn’t a confrontation born out of anger, but heartbreak. She had pieced the truth together carefully, methodically, each discovery cutting deeper than the last. The lies he had spun, the alliances he had forged with their enemies, the sacrifices he had made without a second thought — they painted a picture of someone she barely recognized. And when she stood before him, her voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and disbelief, it wasn’t just a plea for answers. It was a plea for him to remember who he had once been.

"Why, Suguru?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why did you do it? To us? To me?"

Suguru didn’t answer immediately. He stood there, his expression unreadable, his eyes cold and calculating. The silence stretched between them, suffocating. For a moment, Shoko thought she saw a flicker of the boy she used to know, the one who had always protected her, stood by her. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a smile that was more a weapon than an expression.

“You should have known better, Shoko,” he said, his voice soft but laced with venom. “You should have never trusted me. But you did. And now look where we are.”

The words felt like a physical blow. Shoko staggered, the weight of his betrayal crashing down on her. She had trusted him with everything — her life, her secrets, her heart — and he had torn it all apart with cruel precision. Her chest felt tight, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the enormity of the situation sank in.

"Was it all a lie?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything we shared, everything we built… Did none of it mean anything to you, just like it didn't matter with her?"

Suguru’s gaze didn’t waver. "What we shared was a necessity, Shoko. Nothing more. You were useful to me, and now you’re not. That’s all there ever was."

Her knees buckled, but she refused to fall. Not in front of him. She had always prided herself on her composure, her ability to keep her emotions in check, but now she felt like she was unraveling. How had she not seen this coming? How had she allowed herself to be so blind, so vulnerable?

But even as the tears threatened to fall, a part of her still refused to give up. Maybe she could still reach him. Maybe there was a chance to save what was left of the man she had once called her closest friend.

"Suguru, you don’t have to do this," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "You can stop this now. You can still come back from this. Please."

For the first time, something shifted in Suguru’s expression. A flicker of emotion — regret, hesitation — crossed his face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the icy resolve she had come to dread.

"It’s too late for that, Shoko," he said, stepping closer. "It’s too late for me. And it’s too late for you."

Before she could react, before she could process the finality in his words, it happened. Quick, brutal, and utterly devoid of mercy. She felt the sharp, searing pain for only a moment before her legs gave out, her body crumpling to the floor. The world blurred, her vision darkening as she tried to focus on him, to make sense of what had just happened.

As the life drained from her, a wave of emotions overwhelmed her — anger, sorrow, regret. But most of all, there was a profound sense of loss. Not just for herself, but for the man Suguru could have been, the man she had once believed in with all her heart.

And yet, even in her final moments, she couldn’t hate him. Despite everything, despite the betrayal and the lies, she still remembered the boy who had been her friend, her protector. And it was that memory she clung to as the darkness closed in, as her world faded into nothingness.

When Suguru finally walked away, the room felt colder, emptier, a void left in the wake of her death. But for Shoko, the fight was over. And for Suguru, it was just another step into the abyss.

Dirty secrets

[Name] was the last. Alone, vulnerable, betrayed by everyone she had once called a friend. The weight of it all bore down on her, pressing against her chest like an iron vice. The people she trusted, the connections she had nurtured, the memories she had cherished — they had all crumbled into ashes, leaving her adrift in a sea of deceit and pain. Suguru’s manipulation had been meticulous, a web spun so tightly around her that she hadn’t even realized she was trapped until it was too late. His control over her mind, her heart, her very sense of self, was absolute.

Now, standing in front of him, she barely recognized the man she had once loved. His face, once so familiar and warm, was a mask of indifference. His eyes, which used to hold unspoken promises, were cold and calculating. It was as if every ounce of humanity had been stripped away, leaving behind a shell that thrived on cruelty.

Suguru tilted his head, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down her spine. It wasn’t a smile of affection or amusement; it was the kind of smile that predators wore when they knew their prey had nowhere left to run. His voice, soft and almost gentle, cut through the tension like a blade.

“You know,” he began, each word deliberate, measured, “I knew all along. You thought I didn’t know? You thought I didn’t see? I knew you were cheating on me with Satoru. I knew.”

The accusation hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. She stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest. Cheating? Satoru? The words didn’t make sense. Her mind raced, trying to piece together how Suguru could twist reality into such a grotesque lie.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, her pulse roaring in her ears. Finally, she found her voice, trembling but defiant. “You’re insane,” she said, her tone laced with a mix of disbelief and fury. “You’ve twisted everything. You destroyed everything.”

Suguru’s smile didn’t waver, but something flickered in his eyes — a spark of satisfaction, as though her pain was exactly what he wanted. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring its kill.

“You’re nothing but a liar, Suguru,” [Name] spat, the words tumbling out before she could stop herself. Her voice cracked, a mixture of rage and sorrow spilling over. “You destroyed everything. You destroyed me.”

For the first time, Suguru’s smile faltered, but only for an instant. He laughed softly, a hollow sound that echoed in the empty room. When he spoke again, his voice was low, devoid of any warmth. “You think I care?” he asked, his tone almost mocking. “You’re nothing now. You and Satoru were both just distractions. Fleeting moments in a life that was never meant to be.”

The words cut deeper than any blade, slicing through her resolve. Her hands clenched into fists, trembling as she tried to hold herself together. But she couldn’t. Not this time. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. There was a desperation in her tone, a final attempt to reach the man she once knew. “You loved us. You loved me. I know you did.”

Suguru stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then, without warning, he raised the gun in his hand. The sight of it made her breath hitch, but she didn’t move. She didn’t beg. She met his gaze head-on, searching for any trace of the man she had loved. But there was nothing.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly, almost sadly. “I never loved anyone.”

Before she could react, the gunshot shattered the silence. The pain was immediate, searing, blinding. She crumpled to the ground, her legs giving out beneath her. The world tilted, her vision blurring as she clutched at her chest. Warmth spread beneath her fingers, sticky and relentless.

The physical agony was nothing compared to the emotional devastation. As she lay there, gasping for air, the memories came rushing back — the laughter, the stolen moments, the promises they had made. Had it all been a lie? Had she been nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game?

The emptiness consumed her, a void that swallowed every ounce of hope she had left. And yet, in her final moments, there was clarity. She saw Suguru for what he truly was — a broken man, consumed by his own darkness, incapable of love or redemption.

Her thoughts drifted to Satoru, to Utahime, Riko, Nanami... Shoko , to the friends she had lost along the way. They had all been caught in the same web, victims of the same betrayal. And now, as her world faded to black, she realized the truth: none of them had stood a chance.

As the sound of the gunshot faded into the suffocating silence of the room, Suguru stood over [Name]'s lifeless body. The weight of the moment pressed against him, heavier than anything he had felt before. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to look down at her, at the blood pooling beneath her, at the expression frozen on her face — a mixture of shock, pain, and something else. Betrayal, perhaps. Or maybe pity.

He exhaled shakily, his fingers still gripping the gun. The room was deathly quiet now, save for the faint ringing in his ears. The power he had felt moments ago, the cruel satisfaction of having the last word, was already crumbling. Instead, a hollow emptiness began to creep in, swallowing him whole.

“You’re nothing now.” His own words echoed in his mind, mocking him, taunting him.

Suguru staggered back, his knees threatening to buckle. He turned away from the sight of her, but it didn’t help. Her face was seared into his mind, her voice still ringing in his ears. The memories came unbidden — her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved, the way she had trusted him even when he didn’t deserve it.

For a fleeting moment, he had believed his lies, convinced himself that none of it mattered. That none of them mattered. But now, standing in the aftermath of his choices, the truth was undeniable.

They had mattered. She had mattered.

Suguru clenched his jaw, his hand trembling as he raised the gun again, this time pointing it at his own temple. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. The weight of everything — the betrayal, the deaths, the lies — pressed down on him, suffocating him. He had thought he could live with it, thought he could keep going, but now he knew.

There was no moving forward. There was no escaping what he had done.

“You always saw the good in me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. “Even when there was nothing left. You were wrong.”

He closed his eyes, the gun cold against his skin. Images flashed behind his eyelids — Satoru’s grin, Shoko’s quiet kindness, [Name]’s unwavering faith in him. The people he had destroyed, the ones who had tried to save him.

A single tear slipped down his cheek. For the first time in years, the mask cracked, and the full weight of his guilt crashed over him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though he knew no one could hear him.

And then, with a final, resolute pull of the trigger, Suguru ended it.

The sound echoed in the empty room, a final punctuation to a tragedy that had been unfolding for far too long.

When the silence returned, it was absolute. No one was left to bear witness, no one to remember the laughter or the love that had once filled these spaces. Only the echoes of what had been, and the hollow reminder of what was lost.

In the end, Suguru had destroyed everything, including himslef.

The room was still. The bloodstains on the floor, the discarded gun, the silence — it was the final tableau of a story that had unraveled into tragedy.

No heroes. No redemption. Just echoes of what could have been.

As the last light of the setting sun filtered through the cracked blinds, it painted the room in hues of red and gold, a cruel mockery of peace.

And in the stillness, it became clear: this was the end.

A gate to hell, and no one had made it out.

[ask-rain-world-characters]

Scugs, how do you feel about iterator siblings? 👀

Survivor:

Monk:

Hunter:

Watcher:

Gourmand:

Artificer:

Rivulet:

Spearmaster:

Saint:

Enot:

Transcripts:

Survivor: "If you're talking about the pink and the blue ones (who I have unfortunately not yet learned the names of), then I know who you're talking about at least! I feel a little bad about the blue one since, well... I tried eat her white floaty things a couple times. Keyword being 'tried'. Monk stopped me before I even got to taste one. Apparently, eating the white floaty things hurts them. The smaller pink iterator, on the other hand, I feel no remorse for. I mean, he tore open my buddy Spearmaster's chest! That's freakin' bonkers! I don't like that guy."

Monk: "I-I'm not sure, the iterators kind of scare me a little bit."

Hunter: “If you mean Looks To The Moon and Five Pebbles, then you’re in luck! For I, the great and wise Hunter, have met them both!” “Pebbles was always a little stick in the mud, but I’m sure he meant well! I mean, why would he help me all those cycles back? When I was sent to revive Moon?” “And as for Moon… she was the kindest soul I’ve ever known! Sweet and elegant, and her lessons are a joy to listen to as well! Survivor also likes to visit her from time to time, and I can’t blame him! I just hope she's doing ok…”

Watcher: "I never met them before, but if the stories that I heard from others are true... I feel sorry for them. One wanting to escape the cycle, hurt the other in the process. Now he regrets what he did to the Moon, while rotting inside. Although both of them try to fix their relationship, the scars left from the past won't disappear so easily..."

Gourmand: "Siblings? You mean the two neighbors near the eastern shores? I only recently heard that Moon referred to herself as 'Big Sister'. Somehow, I doubt that they were created by the exact same people, and that they're siblings for real. But I have a feeling it wasn't meant to be understood literally, and was just a nod to how close Five Pebbles' structure was to hers. It seems like iterators use words a lot differently, than us. Which does make sense. We are very different, after all. And in terms of my feelings, I don't really have many, at least not towards them. I met Pebbles once, and he ushered me out rather fast. And I don't really plan on returning, with how dangerous him and his chambers were. Moon is a lot safer, and acts a little more mellow. Likely because she lost her powers. My clan needs me, and she lives quite far from us, so I can't do much for her - but I'm thankful there are other slugcats who can offer her company and aid. She does look like she needs it."

Artificer: "I've never seen the iterators as siblings, Pebbles is like family to me in a way but that's it, really. Besides I haven't really met the others, only slightly heard about them."

Rivulet: “Well, I like Moon, she’s fun to be around cause she listens to me a whole lot! Pebbles, I have warmed up to more recently especially after realizing how dire his situation was, however I remember being very upset with his mean demeanor before, especially towards Moon. Though in hindsight I understand where he was coming from, and well, that’s all I can say, since I don’t have many of the exact details and I've realized it isn’t really my place to speak. For me, if Moon forgives Pebbles, then he’s good in my eyes for the most part.”

Spearmaster: "Iterator siblings as a whole is a nice idea. They need that sort of thing for how lonely they can get. If you mean the specific ones I've met before? I couldn't tell you many positive things. Five Pebbles was heartless and cruel to me, and I won't forgive them for what they've done. Looks to the Moon was a more pleasant experience, even if bittersweet. Even still, climbing up to her chamber was a dreadful experience. I'd much rather stay with Suns for now."

Saint: "Looks to the Moon and Five Pebbles? I haven't met the former, and I'm not too fond of the latter. But...I feel as though it's only a matter of time until our paths, or rather, our fates collide. Whatever that feeling means I'm not sure, but we'll see."

Enot: "I dunno, the only iterator I've seen is pebbles and he doesn't talk about his family drama or anything." "Speeeaking of which, I need to get my next order of Pebbsi."

[simplepotatofarmer]

I hope this doesn't upset you, but has it really been 2 years since that video with Technodad and Dream. I still haven't watched the full thing, I couldn't, but maybe it's time, maybe...

Do you remember when it came out? What it was like?

Again I hope this isn't upsetting I'm just thinking out loud here

it has been.

i remember exactly what it was like when it went live and sadly it was very tainted by people being cruel and crass at the time.

but going back and watching it now, all i can see is two people who loved techno and i'm so grateful we got to hear technodad speak about him. he's been such a comfort to techno's fans and it means a lot to me.

[winepresswrath]

Darla/Angelus is also great because the show has a competing designated OTP and they exist to serve as contrast and hateful competition to THE ship. they are soulless monsters even by the standards of soulless monsters, they literally make the other soulless monsters go "yikes... your relationship seems not good maybe." but they love each other so fucking much. the writers can't help it. they are constantly trying to find their way back to each other. the way she hits him over a head with a shovel and leaves him to an angry mob while he tries to say he doesn't mind dying if it's with her AND the way they coo about it to each other afterwards. the way she takes him back against her better judgement because she missed him so so much but then kicks him out again later because he still can't be who she needs him to be. that's just how they say i love you.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Can someone please draw this...

...to look just like this.... :' )

are you a "you might not see a great difference between good and evil, but saving others will make your world a little more beautiful"

or a

"even if you are nothing more than a pattern on the surface of raw power, you are you; because all humans, all lives, and the bodies and brains comprising them, are nothing more than patterns; beautiful patterns, etched into this physical world"

type of wise older male figure who realizes everything they should have said long ago only on their deathbed, and encourages the lost boy protagonist who questions their humanity to live, with words that will be the most uniquely validating and comforting to them?

[pasta5284]

i'm just glad he's gone. idc what he does w his life or if he's happy or suffering or whatever i just am glad he's far away from me. i have never regretting loving and caring for anyone (even the real shitheads) until him. he did not deserve all the time and energy and support i gave him

[miabrown007]

1, 6, 9 and 10 for feral fanfiction asks <3

1) What fanfic are you going to hell for?

I don't think I've written anything very cursed, though I do have an unposted one-shot about sentis that probably will remain this way, because I do not wish to include myself in the Discourse that would cause dgfhfjg

2) What fic of yours do you refuse to acknowledge exists?

hmmm. well, I'm not particularly proud of all the Bad Takes I had when writing HP fanfic at 16, or the edgy-for-the-sake-of-being-edgy fics I wrote when getting back to writing for ML, but, you know, learning curve. I wouldn't be here without them now, so writing bad stuff is actually super necessary. how else would you know you improved:D

10) Which fic is your baby?

Heist AU <333

[kenobers]

magic hands | Jason Todd x Sionis!Reader

but first free palestine !! Your regularly scheduled hook-up session with Jason Todd is rudely interrupted by the arrival of your period. As tragedy strikes, you have to ask Jason to buy you pads, perhaps throwing a curveball in your still emerging relationship. this installment comes before this one; you don't know jason is red hood in this one (not that it really matters to this particular story) tw: periods, mentions of drugging, reader having issues with acts of service, afab readera/n: i'm writing additions to this story completely out of order because i can. don't worry - you're gonna be the one comforting jason soon, just stay tuned. and if you're following me for the obi-wan content, i promise you'll also be fed soon. the sionis!reader concept was inspired by this ask on gilverrwrites' blog! In hindsight, it might've been kinda weird of me, but i couldn't get the concept out of my head. thank you to gilverr and anon! please check out their blog!

Yo

You cringe a little at your choice of words, wishing you'd thought harder before sending the text. Well actually, you cringe at the entire situation. You despise having to ask for help, but you're a little desperate.

Would you-

Too entitled.

Would you mind-

Passive aggressive.

Will-

Your phone buzzes before you can finish typing.

yo.

That was fast.

You take a deep breath. Jason was coming over anyway and it wasn't like you were in any position to have sex like you were planning to. And this constitutes as a bit of an emergency, considering you're currently sitting on a wad of toilet paper.

Can you pick me up some pads?

You hit send and drop your phone on your bed. This is so embarrassing for no reason. Jason's a good guy, he isn't going to judge you for being on your period of all things. He's not going to hold it against you if you can't have sex either.

It was just that you weren't sure your relationship was...like that. Acts of service and all that. A month ago, you wouldn't have even considered asking him to do this. But you'd been a lot more personal with one another lately. Making dinner, staying the night, being physically affectionate while your clothes were still on.

Your phone vibrates and you frantically feel for the purple case in the grey and white sheets. You'll deal with that giddy feeling later.

i don't know, can i?

Fucker, you think, glaring at your screen. You start furiously forming a response about how you aren't in the fucking mood for this when your phone buzzes again.

yeah, of course i can. need anything else? painkillers? chocolate?

You eye the empty bottle on your nightstand. Your stomach cramps painfully.

I'm out of ibuprofen

Then you consider for a moment. With a sigh, you bite back your pride. Well, if he's offering.

...and maybe some ice cream.

you got it babe.

Babe. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the corners of your mouth twitch upwards.

Ten minutes later his name flashes on your screen again, along with a photo of a wall of pads.

which kind

Damn, he was kind of good at this. A flare of jealousy burns through you at the thought of Jason doing this for some other girl. Another feeling you'll deal with later. You circled your preferred brand and send it back.

check. headed your way shawty.

After another ten minutes, the rumbling of a motorcycle echoes through your street. Nine minutes and 45 seconds later, the sound of your living room window sliding open lures you from your bed.

You fight back a goofy grin at the sight of Jason's large-than-life frame slipping through the window, two plastic bags balanced in one gloved hand. Leaning against your kitchen island, you allow yourself a second to admire the curve of his ass in those joggers.

"Hey," you greet, shivering as a gust of wind followed the man. He gives you a toothy grin, sliding the window shut. With a dramatic flourish of his arm, he presents the drugstore bag to you.

"Your essentials, m'lady."

"Oh, my hero," you giggle, taking the bag gratefully. You eye the second bag suspiciously, although the telltale red thank you print and the smell of fried rice give the contents away. "Chinese?"

"Chinese," he confirms. "And before you say anything, I was already picking it up when you texted."

You purse your lips. He was starting to know you too well. You would've said something, would've lied about how you weren't hungry. The idea that he'd already thought to do something nice for you before he even knew about your situation makes your stomach twist.

Jason takes a step closer, trapping you between him and the island. He reaches behind you to set the food on the counter, green eyes trained on your face. It's hard not to shrink below his quizzical gaze. Goosebumps cover your bicep as the leather of his jacket rubs against your bare arm.

Bastard.

"That okay, pretty girl?"

Fuck, he's handsome. He knows it too, know to flick his dark hair just so. Knows how to look at you so that any "oh, you shouldn't have" argument you can conjure up falters before it can reach your tongue. It certainly doesn't help that he's flexing the arm reaching behind you just so.

"Perfect, even," you purr, uncrossing your arms to play with his jacket zipper. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it." You try not to roll your eyes at him, reminding yourself that you were opting to be nicer to him tonight. He is your hero after all. His hands fall to your hips, his thumbs running along the bone. "How you feeling?"

You shrug, suppressing another shiver as his pinkie pokes below the length of your shorts.

"Shitty. Like everything hurts," you answer honestly. Your lip twitches and you abandon his jacket zipper in favor of the strings of his sweatshirt.

"'m sorry we can't, y'know, do what we planned." The apology floods abruptly from your lips. "I would offer to do it anyways, but I just, I-I can't with these cramps." Your hips twinge with pain to emphasize your point. "But, I mean, I can blow you if you really want-"

"Hey."

Two fingers tilt your chin up, tough leather juxtaposing soft skin. You hadn't even realized you'd stopped looking at his face. He's smiling at you.

"Don't worry about it," he says for the second time. "Lemme make you feel better. It'll piss Roman off just as much."

You both look pointedly at the bookshelf you're fairly certain your father had hidden some sort of recording device.

"Besides," he continues with a wolfish smirk. "I've become accustomed to a certain level of performance from you and I'm not sure if I'd receive that if you're not at your peak."

"Fine, only because you insisted," you sigh. "And I'm gonna do you a favor and ignore that last part." You turn away from him, fishing the package of pads and the ibuprofen out of the drugstore bag. "I'm gonna go...yeah."

You wave the package in the air as you head for the bathroom. With your back turned, you don't catch Jason saluting you.

When you return, you notice one of the books on the shelf has been inconspicuously placed over a Wonder Woman knick knack. Part of you is relieved to know your father can't spy on you tonight. Another part of you feels a pang of anxiety knowing that means tonight is just for the two of you to enjoy each other's company. As people. Not fuckbuddies.

This is still casual. Professional, you tell yourself. It's not like he's my boyfriend.

You turn to the kitchen, where Jason is pulling plates out of a cupboard, and ignoring the smaller voice that wouldn't mind him being your boyfriend.

He hands the plates to you, letting you dish the both of you up.

Jason sidles up behind you, pressing his chest to your back. You lean into him, letting him support your weight.

"Chinese was a good call," you say. He hums in response, dipping his hands under your shirt to rub your sides. You yelp in alarm as something wet hits your skin.

"Dude! What the fuck!"

Jason backs up, holding two cream covered hands in the air. He looks apologetic enough, but still smirks at the way you glowered at him over your shoulder. It's an awful cute look when it isn't coming from behind an ugly ass skull mask.

"It's just CBD."

You spin around, pointing your spoon straight at his heart.

"CBD- what, are you trying to get me high?"

It's all Jason can do not to double over laughing. He'd take a picture if he wasn't certain you would find a way to lodge that spoon in a major artery.

His laughter has you fidgeting nervously, trying to maintain your hard stare.

"Don't laugh at me."

To his credit, he stops almost immediately. He straightens his posture and gestures to a small round container on the counter.

"It's just a lotion. Helps with joint pain, I use it all the time. I thought it might help with cramps."

You blink. That was...incredibly thoughtful of him.

"Oh."

You turn back to the food, continuing your task sheepishly. All you ever do in front of this man is embarrass yourself. And orgasm.

He creeps back to his spot cautiously. You glance over your shoulder, briefly meeting his eyes.

"You can...continue," you tell him, your tone much softer now. He presses a kiss to the exposed junction of your neck and slides his hands back under your shirt.

It does feel nice to have him massage the cool lotion into your aching body. His fingers seem to know exactly where to go, undoing the built up tension and leaving a light buzz in its place.

"I'm sorry I snapped like that," you whisper. "I overheard some of my dad's idiots talking about some kind of lube that's infused with LSD or something. Apparently it's becoming a popular method for people to get what they want so...little on edge."

After a moment, Jason speaks again, "I wouldn't drug you like that, you know."

"What, topically?" You scoff, dividing the orange chicken equally.

"Without your consent."

You pause. You suppose you hadn't given much thought to how much Jason respected you in that regard. To be fair, you'd never really been around men that respected you at all.

"Well, that's good to know." It's not the most sensitive response, but you're sudden determined to move on from the conversation before you start oversharing. "Let's eat, big guy."

After dinner, Jason applies the lotion again. This time, you're sat on the couch between his legs as he drives the stuff into a knot on your hip. The TV drones with some black comedy series the two of you have been watching at the recommendation of one of his brothers.

"Do you get a lot of joint pain?" You ask suddenly, looking back at him. He doesn't tear his eyes away from the screen.

"Huh?"

"You said you use it a lot on your joints. Do you get a lot of joint pain?" Now he looks at you, one slit eyebrow raised. For a moment you watch him try to remember when he told you that. Then he smirks, a silly view from upside down.

"I do whenever you get through with me," he says, his chest vibrating under you. You give him a look. "Sometimes after the gym, yeah."

You're not quite sure you believe him, but you let it slide, turning back to the TV in time to see your least favorite character earn a smack to the face.

"It was nice of you to bring it."

"'s helping?"

"Mmh," You sigh as he works a particularly tough spot. Your relief is short lived however as the small of your back cramps up. A small gasp escapes you and you squirm and swear in Jason's arms.

He pauses his work on your hips.

"Where's it hurt?"

"Back," you whimper, turning over so he can get to it. He obliges immediately, rubbing the butt of his palm into the sore spot. You groan into his chest, melting beneath his magic hands. "The fuck did I ever manage this shit before you."

He snorts, "very bravely, I'm sure."

You smile at his answer. Clever boy. You reward him with a kiss, pleased when he returns it in kind. His hand doesn't stop its work on your back as his soft lips move gently with your own.

"You sure you don't want a blowjob?" you murmur against his mouth.

Jason nods, giving you another chaste kiss before pulling away. "You're in pain, sweetheart. Let yourself rest."

He moves his lips to your ear, lowering his voice.

"Now, how about that ice cream, hm?"

Absolute professional.

[hotchner-edu]

Candied Hearts | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: You and Aaron have a no-strings-attached relationship, but things change after Aaron suffers an injury while on a case.

Pairing: BAU!Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: sugar baby arrangement kinda, allusions to smut (heh), fluff, jack doesn't exist in this universe (sorry)

"Aaron?" Your voice comes out thick with sleep, eyes still closed as you slowly rouse. The man in question stands frozen at the foot of his bed, having accidentally dropped a binder on the floor just moments before.

"Yeah, sorry for waking you." He says softly and walks over to rub your back as you roll to lay on your stomach.

"What time is it?" You practically slur out as you sink back against his pillows.

Aaron smiles fondly, one that you can't see, and smooths down your hair. "Too early for you to be up."

"Going to work?" You crack an eye open to peer up at him as he stands by the bed, hand trailing down to your spine. Shivering at the touch, your mind flashes back to the events of the night prior.

He hums and nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll be away for a couple of days. Are you sore?"

"I'm all good, agent." You tease quietly and smile tiredly. "Go save some lives."

He chuckles and nods. "Alright. Get some more sleep." He whispers to you before standing straight again and getting ready to leave. When you hear the front door shut, a vibration from your phone causes you to sit up slowly and grab it from the nightstand.

Glaring back up at you is an email from your university with a receipt thanking you for your tuition payment. Huffing softly in disbelief, you shoot a quick text to Aaron, knowing he was the culprit.

'I thought we agreed that it wasn't necessary?'

He doesn't reply until twenty minutes later when you've managed to lug yourself out of his warm bed to brush your teeth.

Of course, even without any context to your message, Aaron knows exactly what you're talking about.

'I wanted to'

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed, and shake your head, typing back quickly as you swipe your toothbrush from the medicine cabinet.

'Thank you, be safe <3'

'Always. Have a good day.'

You suppress a smile as you place your phone down on the sink, beginning to brush your teeth. As you stare at your reflection, you attempt to ignore the way the moment feels all too domestic, a faint whiff of his signature cologne dancing around the bathroom.

In hindsight, you wishing him good luck was probably a jinx.

Or at least, that's all you were thinking when you had gotten the phone call that Aaron was in the hospital for a pretty bad head injury, getting banged up in the process of chasing their suspect.

It had been two days since you last saw Aaron, and only a few hours since he last called you to send you money for lunch despite your protests. So you hadn't bargained on hearing that he was involved in an accident serious enough to leave him hospitalized.

You had initially been sent into a blind panic as the man on the other side of the phone asked if it were possible for you to fly out since Aaron kept asking for you.

That's how you knew it must have been bad.

Aaron was the type to suffer in silence as to not burden others, so if he was asking for you enough that someone had to call you— it must have been really bad.

The moment you land, you're rushing to the hospital without even dropping off your bags. Your taxi driver had wordlessly slammed on the gas when he saw your pallid face, only asking for directions when you were already halfway out of the airport drop-off.

You practically fly through the hospital once you get there, weaving around nurses and patients as you make your way to the front desk.

"For Aaron Hotchner." You say breathlessly, ignoring the incredulous looks you were getting.

The nurse receptionist quickly types on her computer, not batting an eye at your disheveled appearance. "ID, please?"

You quickly grab your wallet and slide your ID for her to check and note down.

"Aaron Hotchner is on the second floor, room 206. Here's a visitor badge, please keep it on the entire time you're here." The woman says politely, handing you back your ID and a visitor badge sticker.

"Thank you." You rush out before quickly making your way to the elevator, a fog of dust practically erupting behind you from how quickly you race away.

When you manage to locate Aaron's room, you see a couple of people already hovering by the door, peering inside. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, you pat down your clothes a little before stepping forward.

"Sorry... is this Aaron Hotchner's room?" Your voice comes out a bit meek as the three unfamiliar faces suddenly turn to you. Their eyes flicker around your face and stature almost imperceptibly, a brief pause occupies the air between you all as they assess you.

"Yes, it is. I'm Derek Morgan. We spoke on the phone I believe." The man is quick to introduce himself, extending a hand forward for you to shake.

"Oh, yes, hi. I'm glad you called." You shake his hand and smile a bit nervously. "I'm Y/N."

"Thank you for coming so quickly. Are you a friend of Hotch's?" One of the women speak up, eyes gleaming in curiosity. You gaze at her dark hair and sharp features and you couldn't help but notice how attractive Aaron's work friends were.

Perhaps it made dealing with suspects easier?

"Oh, yes. I'm a friend." You reply softly, knowing it must be a strange picture for them to digest since you were a bit younger and looked completely unfamiliar to them. "Is Aaron okay?"

"He'll make a full recovery, he just got a pretty bad concussion and whiplash from the crash." The blonde woman explains, stepping aside so you could make your way into the room.

Your brows furrow in worry. "Oh... thank you."

As you step in, your eyes immediately find Aaron's figure on the hospital bed, sitting up but looking a bit dazed. There's another blonde woman doting on him, hovering by his bedside and holding some balloons.

"You cannot do that again, sir! Do you know how terrifying it is that the one time I come with you guys, you nearly get flung through your windshield?" The woman says in exasperation, shaking her head as if trying to escape the mental images her words conjured.

You just stand there for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but Aaron glances toward the doorway and sees you.

"Honey..." his voice is barely audible, and you can see the relief in his eyes.

The woman spins around with an expression of utter shock (and delight?) before grinning brightly, a complete switch from her worry while fretting over Aaron just moments prior. "Hi! You must be Hotch's friend! I'm Penelope."

You go in for a hand shake but she opens her arms and you wordlessly oblige, charmed by her already. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Is he doing alright? I heard he was asking for me."

Before she can answer, Aaron speaks up again. "Sweetheart, come here."

Penelope catches on to her boss' fond tone and a smile tugs at her lips. "I'll leave you both to it then!"

She's hurries out of the room without another word, closing the door to give you both privacy.

"Aaron, are you okay?" You immediately ask, walking toward his bedside and reaching to gently cup his cheek.

His hands moves up to rest on yours and he nods. "I'm okay... just needed you here."

You can tell he's a bit high on pain medication at the moment and you chuckle. "Yeah, I was surprised when Derek called me. They really did not hold back with the pain meds, huh? I suppose that's good, otherwise you'd probably have a hard time even talking to me right now."

"I'm fine." He grumbles, clumsily reaching for your other hand.

Watching him grasp your hand gently, your face softens a bit and you sit on the edge of his bed. "How long have you been up? You should get some sleep, Aaron. Your body needs to heal." You say gently, leaving no room for argument.

He stares at you with a small frown, probably not even realizing how tired he really was. "You just got here though..."

"And I'll still be here when you wake up. You need to listen to your body."

He glances down at the bed and starts scooting over to one side. "You should rest too, then."

"What if I accidentally smack you in the neck while I'm asleep?" You ask with a raised brow, only being half serious.

"It's fine." Aaron mumbles and lifts up the blanket, his hospital gown and semi-delirious gaze making him look less and less like the collected man you were used to seeing.

Sliding into the vacant spot next to him, you have to caution him again about his own injuries when he tries to turn over to spoon you. "Goodness, Aaron. How high are you right now?" You stifle a laugh as he gives you an indignant glare.

"Okay, fine, fine. We can cuddle."

While Aaron is able to snooze after you both settle in, the cramped hospital bed and Aaron's light snores wake you up after an hour.

Instead of laying beside him as your right leg felt fuzzy from restricted blood flow, you slip out and decide to go grab a few things from the vending machine.

The floor you were on was quiet, your trek going undisturbed as you fish out what few bills are left in your wallet.

When you get back to his room, you nearly jump out of your skin when you see that Aaron is awake and sitting up, staring at you owlishly. "Oh my goodness!" You gasp out and hold a hand to your heart.

Aaron says your name softly, voice tinged in confusion. "You're here?"

"Yes?" Your tone matches his. "You don't remember me getting here? You were pretty high from the meds, so that's fair." You joke softly and close the door behind you.

"I remember bits and pieces... but I thought it was a dream." He says, slowly leaning back as he watches you walk toward him with a variety of snacks.

"Oh? Do you remember whining and begging me to spoon with you?" You tease and smile, opening up a cold water bottle for him to drink.

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and drinks some of the water. "I'm sorry you had to fly out here."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I didn't miss any classes or anything, but I had to cancel a date I had." You joke and shrug.

Aaron immediately frowns at this and his eyes avert to look out the window. "I'm sorry." He says softly.

"Huh?" You tilt your head and sit by his bedside again. "I was just kidding, Aaron. Who would I be going out on dates with? No one can pay for my tuition and my takeout like you can." Your teasing words draw a grunt out of him as his lip twitches, a smile threatening to appear on his face.

"Brat." His hand reaches to draw you closer.

"Old man." You retort and scoot closer to him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Better now that you're here." He says quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your nose scrunches at that and you smile in disbelief, spurring him to continue. "I'm being serious, y'know..."

As you gaze at him, his hand comes up to cup your cheek. "When they took me into the ambulance, I kept going in and out of consciousness. But I kept thinking about you... the night before I had to leave for this case, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

Aaron draws in a deep breath and his thumb mindlessly sweeps across your cheek. "I think we should end our arrangement."

Your heart drops at his words and you laugh softly to hide your hurt. "You thought you were going to die and your last thoughts were that you should have broken it off with me first?"

His mouth parts a little in surprise before he shakes his head quickly and sputters a bit. "No, that's not, uh, that's not what I meant. It's just that for me, this—" he gently gestures between the both of you, "has turned into something deeper... and I wanted to end it so that we could start a real, closed relationship together."

"I mean, our relationship has never really been open." You say with a humored smile. While it was true that the arrangement wasn't exclusive, neither of you had ventured to start any connections with other people.

Aaron chuckles a little and nods, his hand dropping down to take ahold of yours. "I suppose you're right. I also wanted to talk to you about this because I know that having a romantic relationship together wasn't on the table for either of us when we started this... but I want you to know that I am in no way trying to steer you toward something that may be uncomfortable for you."

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you shrug a little and smile at him shyly. "I'm not uncomfortable... I think I want to give us a try too." You respond quietly.

"Really?" He breathes out. From the way his eyes flicker around your face, you can tell that there are a plethora of thoughts consuming him right now. "I... It's selfish of me to want you so wholly, sweetheart. With my work and my age, you deserve better."

"Aaron, if I wanted someone else do you think I would have stuck around this long? I mean I sure as hell wouldn't have gotten on the first flight here in a blind panic hoping you weren't dead." You retort, squeezing his hand as you try to mollify his insecurities. "Besides, who said being old doesn't look sexy on you?"

That elicits are an amused huff from him as he shakes his head. "You're probably the only person who thinks gray hairs and aching joints look good on me."

"Well that's just wrong, but even if that were true, my opinion is the only one that matters in this case." You smile cheekily and kiss him.

He kisses you back, slowly and meaningfully as your words sink in. Pulling back a little from your lips, he whisper softly. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Positive." You whisper back. "Now be quiet and let me make out with you."

Aaron's chuckle is deep and smooth as he smiles. "Yes, ma'am."

On the other side of the door to Aaron's room, his team are huddled together to try and peek into the door's little window.

"What are you people doing?" Rossi's voice suddenly rings out, painted in amusement at how ridiculous they looked. They all look back at the older man, eyes comically wide and resembling guilty children caught red-handed

"Trying to figure out who Hotch's mystery friend is." Derek answers, coolly stepping back as he plays off how his face was practically pressed against the glass.

"Oh? See anything of intrigue?" Dave asks with a small grin, tucking his hands in his pockets and pretending like he had no clue about you and Aaron.

Derek is about to answer, but he's interrupted before he can utter a single syllable.

"Uhh, guys, they're..." JJ says softly, drawing everyone's attention back to the glass. They see you both inside and they suddenly straighten up and step back.

Emily is the first to speak after a long pause. "Dinner, anyone?"

Penelope looks dazed and shakes her head. "Yes, and some new eyeballs please."

Rossi chuckles and begins walking toward the elevator, deciding to let Aaron fill them in later about his experience as a sugar daddy. He was just pleased that he was no longer going to be alone in the team's inescapable teasing about old men and their love lives.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Walking the Road for Her

Wanda Maximoff x Gray Witch!Reader

Word count: 1.2K

Summary: You can't live without Wanda and you've tried everything else so when Agatha comes knocking on your door you accept immediately, but the teen that's with her...he seems so familiar

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 3 OF AGATHA ALL ALONG! Grief/Loss, hallucinations, death/mortality, emotional distress, supernatural elements, implied self-sacrifice, character death, reunion with a deceased loved one

Authors notes: Thank you @scarlethexelove for indulging in my random Wanda thoughts.

When Agatha asked for you to walk the witches road, you didn't hesitate. She was put off by your eagerness, but never told her why you were walking. You kept that part to yourself she didn't seem to mind. Everyone had a reason, and everyone had their secrets, so no one asked, and you weren't about to tell them you wanted, no needed Wanda back.

You would give up anything and everything to have Wanda back. If it meant to team up with Agatha, you would do it.

So you did. You met up with her and put on the cheery smile she hated. You always assumed she hated you for being a younger witch still full of life, but since Wanda died, you felt like you died too. You got along well enough with the others. You knew Jen the best being closer in age, though you didn't care for her products.

The teen seemed eerily familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. Why does he remind you of Wanda of a life you can't seem to remember.

You're overly protective of him. You don't let him have the wine, and when you hallucinate from said wine, you blink, and suddenly, you're looking at Wanda. Back in her early twenties with the eyeliner, ripped stockings, painted nails, and rings on every finger. You cry over it, cupping her face until it turns back to his.

“Are you okay.” He looks at you with concern. You pull away quickly and wipe your eyes.

“S-Sorry.” You quickly run the ingredients back, trying to escape the feelings. You need to stay strong. You need to get Wanda back.

You end up getting through the trail. Not without its costs. Losing Sharon wasn't something you had in mind, but the witches road is treacherous and has no place for mortals. You never should have let Agatha do that, but hindsight and all that. You knew you had to press on and on the road Teen asks,

“Are you sure you're okay? You and Sharon called out for the same person.” You swallow hard.

“Yeah I'm fine. We all had hallucinations about things. I'll be okay.” You tell him and then mumble under your breath, “Not like I don't deal with it every morning...” his head swivels.

“What was that?” He asks.

“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.”

The further you journey, the harder it gets. Sometimes, you want to give up, to give in, and join Wanda another way. But something stops you every time. You almost think you can feel her, feel her all around you. In the trees, the air, the leaves beneath your feet. With a quick turn of your head, you think you so the soft auburn color you miss so much. The road is playing tricks yet keeping you grounded to your goals.

You make it to the end. Finally passed the last trial everyone who had made it. Their prize awaited them. You waited, didn't see her, and then you heard a whisper in Sokovian.

Your name.

You looked around everywhere. “Over here milaya.” You hear her call. You whip around and see her. She doesn't look like the Scarlet Witch anymore. Back before that. Like when you were on the run. You run into her arms without a second thought.

You can't help as you cry. Burying your face in her neck as your body shakes with sobs. Her vanilla scent invades your senses. “Shhhh sweet girl, I've got you.” Wanda holds you close. Your heart feels whole again now that you're back in her arms.

Your sobs turn into sniffles. “I've missed you so much.” You mumble against her. Her nails lightly scratching at your back. Something she's always done to sooth you. Kissing the side of your head and letting her lips linger.

“I know Detka. I'm so sorry. I'm here now. I'll never leave you again.”

You held onto Wanda tight, afraid to let go as if she'd disappear again if you stopped.

Wanda opened her eyes, looking past your shoulder her eyes widened in surprise and then softened as she saw him.

“Bi-Billy?” Wanda's voice shakes slightly. You pull back but not fully letting her go. You follow her gaze that lands on the teen. Your brows furrow before you look back to Wanda.

“Wanda?” You question her.

She lets go of you when Teen responds to the name. He tries to say something, but the sigil protects him. A wave of Wanda's hand changes that. “Billy?” She asks again.

“Yes, that's me.” You're really confused as you see Wanda's red tendrils come out sending red waves through his eyes before disappearing. “M-mom? H-how did you...?”

Billy runs towards Wanda, slamming into her, but she doesn't budge. She holds him tightly in her arms. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn't know my own son?” Wanda whispers. It's just loud enough for you to hear. Confusion morphs into realization as you look on.

The reason he looked so familiar, the reason he reminded you of her. Of course, it was one of the twins. Sure you hadn't been a part of the hex, but you had seen the recordings of it. Last you had seen the twins, they were 10 inside the hex.

Your heartbeat quickens when you remember what you had seen next as the hex fell the you Wanda had created was destroyed along with the twins. She had held you tightly until you were no more.

It's a shock to see him in the flesh. To understand who he really is. He pulls away from Wanda and turns to you. “Mama?” He's cautious having been giving the memory from Wanda and realizing that you had never got to meet him. Do you even know who he is? Will you accept him as your own?

Your breath catches. It's like waves of memories flood through you as if they had always been there. Everything from the hex coming to life as tears fill your vision and spill over. “Oh my sweet little boy...look at you!” Your arms wrap around him tightly. It had been there, blurry when you thought about it. Of this being your son. “Mama is sorry you had to go through all of this.”

“Mama don't apologize. I'm happy to have you back.” He pulls away slightly keeping an arm around you and opening his other for Wanda. She joins into the hug.

“I'm happy to have both of you back.” You can feel the tears pricking your eyes.

You hug them both tightly. This still left you without one son, but you knew you'd find him. If Billy made it out somehow, then Tommy must be out there, too.

Wanda cups both of your cheeks and looks between you. “Moya lyubov i moy syn (my love and my son).” Tears in her eyes she can't believe she is back and that she had both of you. Her heart is almost complete, but there is still a missing piece to the puzzle.

You didn't need her powers to know what she was thinking, “We'll find him, milaya.” She smiles at you, giving a soft peck on your lips.

“We will. Now that I have you two I know we will.”

This was more than you could have asked for at the end of the road.

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Advice for beginner Hellenists

This isn't necessarily a post where I include a list of Gods, epithets, resources, and offerings for said Gods, but rather, hopefully soothing the worries of those of us who are starting the journey into the religion. As someone who was once in a religion that made other religions sound like something absolutely terrifying, my journey into Hellenism was once which was also... pretty terrifying, and this fear was mostly just from my own mind.

Anyways, my list of Advice:

You can literally just start praying. If you want to get more formal, you can absolutely get more formal, but you very much don't have to. I've definitely had my first prayers to some Gods be "hello, [God or Goddess's name], I want to worship You! Please lead me in my journey. Thanks!" I can promise you, the Gods are much kinder and more understanding than any of us fully know.

You can also just start worshiping in general. I feel like I've seen on occasion people worried about the Gods not "calling" to them. This is definitely not something that needs to happen pre-worship. If you find them interesting enough to pray to, then that in and of itself is enough.

In a similar vein, I wouldn't be too concerned about the idea of "signs". I feel like there's a tendency for folks to be incredibly worried about everything when first starting out - the behavior of a candle, the sighting of an animal, a strange dream, all can suddenly seem to take on jarring significance. But I can promise you, the Gods don't constantly give out signs, and frequently, these strange occurrences can be attributed to the mundane. When something comes from the Gods, you will know, trust me!

You don't have to worry too much about the idea of cleanliness, be it spiritual or physical. Khernips are cool, and I'd definitely recommend integrating them into your practice sooner or later. Hygiene is cool too! But if I'm being honest, we in the modern day are far more physically clean, and a lot less likely to regularly encounter the type of pollution that would have been encountered in ancient Greece.

The Gods will be at varying distances over the course of your worship. Sometimes, They will feel close, joyfully, burningly so. And sometimes, They will feel far, and prayers may even feel a bit futile. Both of those are perfectly okay, and neither of those will be permanent.

And, once again in a similar vein, you will likely not find yourself having constant, close mystical experiences with the Gods (i.e., conversations, visions, etc.). These experiences are rare and far between, and I would advise that you not make them a central part of your worship. They will come when the Gods deem you're ready for them, and you definitely won't be expecting it. Focus on the little things!

My final thing (for now) is that you also shouldn't put undue pressure on yourself to be doing some sort of big offering to the Gods. If that's what you can afford, that's great! But if not, fresh water, a small wildflower that you came across and picked*, or a small bit of a meal also count as a good offering!

And with that, my (much longer than I was previously planning on) list of things for beginners to keep in mind! A lot of this list is made up of things which I picked up along the way, and a lot of it is also made from my own personal hindsight being 20/20. I hope this is helpful to someone, and that it maybe soothes some of the (incredibly common) worries which so often accompany those who are venturing into the world of Hellenic polytheism!

[123ohwell]

LEVERAGE GRIFT TRACKER

I FINISHED SEASON 1! Shoutout to @grandma-waldo for the idea

Extra details in the parameters and the job list. I kept a list of all grifts in order they occur through season 1. If I thought about it before hand I would have draw a line between each episode but oh well hindsight and all that.

Any questions? Yes I welcome them and I'll try to answer them. Want to know why I split something? Just ask - there was definitely an overthought process to my madness. Any ideas on adjusting job titles? I want to hear it please. I invested too much in this lol but it's been fun.

Season 1 was tough in trying to decide what the jobs would be while trying to keep them broad and trying to think so I wouldn't need to add anymore come later seasons . Also me and excel nearly got into a fight.

I'm going to do the rest of the show but that will be slow coming. When I figure out how to make a master list with links, I'll make one. Since this is like my 4th post on the topic and there will be a bunch more to come

Surprises and Revelations

- Hardison grifts in intense spurts

- there was only 1 real royalty grift in season 1??? And it was hardison?? But there were 5 Southern Belle/Beau grifts

- Sophie was the first athelete?? Ik I already posted that but it still shocked me (Olympic luge)

- Parker interacts with people more than most of the team - she thieves in the shadows but she talks to people often as a misdirection

- FBI and just an ordinary person (Civilian) were the most common grifts of season 1 > not surprised since everyone played FBI in pilot part 2

- runner up was The Damsel. Plenty of times the team did the Damsel and Damsel's Knight grift together as a misdirection. But going "oh no I need help" to a stranger/mark was more popular

- Hardison and Parker were the most likely to play the Damsel card

(Sidenote: i thought about wanting to know all the scams the team calls out in the show. "Burn scam" "the cherry pie" etc. But I think someone has already made a list but I can't find it. Also my family might kill me if I restart the show - again. I was already getting side eyes for skipping back a few seconds to check out who was grifting when I wasn't paying attention)

If you've read this far! Thank you! Hope you have a great week!

[anyamaris]

Morning Glory

Summary-Your best friend comes over after an unexpected visit from your cheating ex, and a night of comfort produces something unexpected.

Pairing-BFF!Yeosang x F!Reader

Genre/Trope-Smut, non idol au

Word count-4.5k

Warnings-Mentions of cheating (ex), some emotions due to break up, vulgarity, adult language, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, some iffy touching while you're both half asleep, NSFW 18+

A/N-This is for the Language of Flowers event for CultofDionysusnet! I hope you enjoy, I've been struggling a bit with writers block so I'm happy to put something out for this event! Make sure to check out the other entries!

Tags- @cultofdionysusnet @ksmutsociety @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @starlitmark@millennial-fangirl @ericssmile @wooahaeproductions@changbinslovelylegs @yeosxxx @millennial-fangirl @starillusion13 @duchesskaren @minki-moo @woosanbby

@cafekitsune Thank you for banners and dividers! 🤍💜🤍

It’s been three months. 

Three whole months…

Three months full of shock, pain, sobbing, anger, guilt, and finally, acceptance.

A quarter of a year of your life spent lamenting the almost two years spent with someone who threw away everything without a second thought.

They say time is all you need to move on, but what they don’t tell you is the amount of regret that is left lingering.

How the hindsight can hurt you more than the breakup itself.  

How you blame yourself for the time wasted, for the signs you never saw.  

How you start to rethink the things you thought you knew.  

Words like, “I love you” and “I promise” become both fleeting and weighted.  

All of these thoughts swirl in your mind as you stare into the face of the man who caused this turmoil.

No, that’s wrong.

All he did was cheat on you, lie to you and walk away without batting an eyelash.  

Suppressing a cynical laugh, you just stare into the face of your betrayer.  

His eager smile doesn’t evoke the tickle in your tummy like it used to.

His handsome, sheepish face doesn’t make you want to rush into his arms like before.

“Hi.” 

Once upon a time, that simple line would have you opening the door further and inviting him in, your deceitful mind telling you that he must have a good reason.

Unfortunately for him, the you that used to cave to his ridiculous lies and excuses doesn’t exist anymore.

“What do you want?” Your voice is harsh, a frown tugging at your lips.

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t evoke any emotions in you.  

You feel the hand on the door shake as you grip it harder, anger coursing through you.

“I…I missed you.  Can I come in to talk?” He asks, the arm behind his back slipping around to present you with a small bouquet of flowers.

“Look, I brought your favorites.”

Frowning at the offering, you can only blink at them. 

Not once has he given you flowers. 

Not one time.

Scoffing, you stay where you are, blocking the entrance.

“My favorites? Do you even know my favorite flower?” 

Though they are pretty, the roses are far from your favorite flower.  The very fact that he chose red roses too was so cliche.  

You wince at the rage making your voice shake.  

Dear god, please don’t let him think I’m getting sad over him.

“Uhhh…flowers are flowers, right?” He asks, shrugging a shoulder and brushing his hair back.  

“Look, I don’t know why you came here of all places.  But you’re not welcome.” 

You begin to close the door in his face, but he lunges forward, stopping you before you can escape him.

“Wait-I know we didn’t end on the best of terms-” 

Your laugh halts him momentarily, rolling your eyes at his choice of words.

“-look…all couples take a break-” he’s continuing but you’re done listening.

“Stop. One, we are not a couple.  We broke up.”  You hold your hand up to halt his retort.

“Two, you cheated on me.”  

He frowns at your fingers as you hold them up, counting his mistakes.  

“But-”

“Three, there is nothing you could possibly say or do that would have me opening this door to you.  I suggest you find someone else’s door to go knock on, because you’re not welcome here.” 

You give him a good shove to remove him from the doorway and slam the door, leaning back against it as you hug yourself.

Jumping at his loud pounding, you can only let out a shaky sigh.  

“Go away, seriously.”

“Look, I made a mistake, we love each other-” 

You snort at his words, cutting him off. 

“The only person you love is yourself, so fuck off.”  

Walking away from the door and his ridiculous protests, you make your way to your shower to wash off the ick from seeing him again.

Emerging from the bathroom, you listen for a few and smile as silence greets you.  

“Finally.  Idiot.” you mutter, but you sigh as you feel your body shake from the encounter.  

The sheer audacity of him, showing up with roses like that would immediately evaporate all of the pain and hurt he caused-

Your mind whirls as you clench your fists.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a ding from your phone.

Hesitant to check it, you slowly make your way to look at the screen.

Letting out a soft sigh, your body relaxes slightly as you read the text from your best friend. 

“If Wooyoung asks, I have absolutely no idea what happened to his favorite hoodie.” 

Your lips curl as you shake your head, drying your hair as you remember the fate of said hoodie.  

“Sure, you definitely didn’t use it as a mop when you spilled that drink last week.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” You get back and you just sigh, tossing on some pajamas. 

“Sure thing, no idea.” you respond, chewing your lip as you ponder if you should tell him about your unwanted visitor.

Yeosang had been there through everything, through the relationship, through the breakup, through the aftermath.  

He’d been your rock, and now….

Now you selfishly wanted to vent at him, to have him comfort you and calm you down.  

“Is everything okay?” he sends and you blink at the text.  

“I swear, he reads my mind.” you hum as you stare at the phone.

Giving in to your instincts you just send him one word.

“No.”

A moment passes, then your phone lights up, ringing with the familiar song you have set to him.

Before it can ring twice you answer, holding the phone to your ear without a word.

“What happened?” His voice washes over you like a warm blanket, the deep tone seeming to uncork the stress, the distilled pain you’ve been holding in.

Instead of answering, when you open your mouth, all that comes out is a sob.  

“Hey-hey-what happened? Are you hurt?”  His words are laced with panic and you collect yourself enough to reply.

“No…I’m okay, I think.  He showed up.  At my door.”  

Silence greets you from the other end, and a slight rustling is heard as you do your best to try to calm down, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Before the call cuts out, he utters a simple phrase that has relief flooding through you.

“I’m on my way.”

“Shh, it’s okay.  It’s okay to cry, really.” Yeosang is saying, his hand rubbing your back as you both sit on your couch.  

He’d gotten over to your place in record time, so quickly that you thought the pounding was him coming back.

“I’m sick of crying, Yeosang.” You get out, leaning into him as he nods at you.  

His eyes are full of concern, and what you hope is care and not pity.  

Of everyone, Yeosang was the last person you wanted to pity you.  

He meant far too much to you for that.

“What the fuck did he even want? Showing up at your door-” he blurts out, clenching his fist on his thigh.  

“He…I think he was trying to crawl back here, his other girlfriend must have kicked his ass out.” You tell him, wiping at your nose with the tissue in your hand.

You smile as you watch Yeosang purse his lips, not saying a word.  

He’d never truly expressed what he thought of your ex, and you had a feeling he’d never actually liked him much.

At least one of you was smart, you think.

“He even brought flowers.  Fucking roses, like they would fix everything.  Fucking asshole.” 

Yeosang just listens, taking the tissue to replace it with a fresh one.  

“The first time he ever brings me flowers, and he brings me roses after three months of silence and cheating and-” you just shake your head, irritated at the whole situation.

“He said they were my favorite too.  I wonder if he even remembers anything I like.”  You continue, finally feeling a bit of relief after venting to your friend.

Yeosang just sighs, reaching out to brush a tendril of hair back, holding up the glass of water he’d gotten for you when he arrived.  

As you drink, he just watches you, finally speaking after you set it down.

“Come on, let’s watch something.  It’ll help you relax.  How about your favorite? Princess Bride?” He asks, grabbing the remote to scroll through your many apps on the television.

“You’re sick of that one, aren’t you?” Eyeing him, you can’t help but smile.  

A small stirring of your old crush on him teases your mind, but you push it down.

Must be my stupid emotions, you think, watching as he puts the movie on.

He holds out his arm, allowing you to snuggle against him as you normally do.  

“If it’ll make you smile, I’ll happily watch it twenty more times.”  He grins, tossing a blanket over you as you make yourself comfortable on him.  

Watching the beginning scene, you look up at him.

“How come you never say anything about him when I complain? It must get old.” You ask, blinking at him.

Yeosang just looks at you, his honey brown eyes studying you as he seems to think about his answer.

After a moment, he just shakes his head.

“I want to hurt anyone who hurts you.  So anything I have to say isn’t going to help what you’re going through. Now pay attention, Buttercup.” 

He boops your nose as he gestures to the screen, smiling as you let out a soft laugh.

His words have an effect on you that seeing your ex doesn’t and you push them down as you get lost in the movie with your best friend.

The first thing you become aware of is the distant rumble of thunder.  

Then, the soft pattering of rain upon glass, soothing you as you inhale deeply

Stirring, you adjust as you try to get comfortable.

The blanket over you is soft and warm, as is the body underneath you.

With your eyes closed and sleep hazing the edges of your brain, you snuggle deeper into the strong arms around you.  

Drawing your leg up, you nuzzle your face into the soft material beneath it.

A familiar scent tantalizes your senses as you inhale deeply. The light scent of blackberry, bay leaves and sandalwood soothes you, and you can’t help but cling to the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face into his chest.

Yeosang.

Your sleep addled brain whispers the name as you press closer to him, your body moving instinctively before you can think anything through. 

Was he always this…built? Where did these muscles come from?

Your hands seem to have a mind of their own as they skim down his side, splaying out over his stomach.  

A soft murmur greets your ears, a deep humming stirs beneath your cheek as his arms tighten ever so slightly around you.  

Was he awake? 

Your hand stills, feeling your cheeks heat as the fog slowly clears from your brain.  

Slowly, you take stock of where you are, how you ended up here.

You’d fallen asleep on the couch watching the movie, you realize.

You were laying half on his chest, his arm wrapped around beneath you with your leg draped over one of his own.

His other arm was tossed over your side, your cheek pressed to his chest above his heart.  

The rhythmic thump under your ear is calming, and your lips twitch as the soft sigh that escapes him as he slumbers.  

Pervert, were you really trying to feel up your best friend? You think to yourself.

In his sleep, no less.

It’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate with anyone, and your body seems to have a mind of its own.

Traitor. Perverted, horrible traitor.

It’s fine, just errant thoughts.  Nothing you hadn’t thought before of him.

As long as they were just thoughts.

But it was different right? Being pressed so close to him, feeling the way your bodies fit together. 

How if you just slipped your hand down-

Your mind takes a moment to command you to stop, freezing you as his breath hitches.

You close your eyes, trying to calm the racing thoughts in your mind, the throbbing need that seems to be increasing the longer you lay like this.  

You stiffen as he shifts slightly under you, his hand splaying out on your side.  

A heat flushes your cheeks at how he lifts his leg, his thigh pressing between your legs as he adjusts, drawing out a small involuntary whimper from your throat.

Dear lord, you think, this is NOT helping your plight.

It didn’t help that the sleep shorts you were wearing had shifted slightly during your sleep. 

Not to mention that you weren’t wearing panties… 

Now the thin fabric was riding up, the way you were laying on them teasing at your core as your hips instinctively rock against his thigh before you can stop yourself.

Your heart seems to beat in your throat as you glance up at him, the angle you’re at allowing you to see his pretty lashes in the moonlight.  

Was he sleeping? Did he know how you were reacting to his innocent movements in his sleep?

Did he know what a bad friend you were, thinking about getting off on him as he slept beneath you?

You study him as his lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them.

At the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.  

At the curve of his pectoral muscles…

Your gaze just slowly takes him in, raking down his body.  

You just need to extract yourself from him, make a quick exit to your room.  

To take care of this aching need that is driving you to these depraved thoughts.

Decided, you shift to pull back from him, slipping your hand up his chest to find the outside of the couch, intending to crawl over him.  

Before you even find a spot for leverage, his hand slips down the curve of your side, your hip, grasping your ass gently.  

“Mmm…” he murmurs and you freeze as he shifts again, causing you to bury your face into his neck.  

“Yeosang?” You manage to squeak out, inhaling sharply as his hips tilt.  

“Uhh…?” His sleep rasped voice brushes in your ear as he seems to come around.

Dear god, he’s not even awake and he’s-

The sharp intake of breath is paired with his hand slipping along your ass as he hikes your thigh up over him.

Fuck…you were straddling him.  

Double fuck, you were definitely very aroused from this and you needed to get away quickly before-

Suddenly, as his hands grip your cheeks to rock you against him, you realize how very hard he is.  

“Fuck-” He hisses as you draw back, your lust clouded brain screaming for you to wake him completely, to tell him that it’s you; that he’s-

Every thought following flies from your mind as his hand slips between your ass from behind, his fingers taking advantage of the way your shorts have shifted to expose your very wet core.  

There’s no time to muffle the moan that leaves your lips, no time to stop your legs from parting eagerly; no time to stop your hips from jerking against him, rubbing your naked sensitive nub against his rough jeans. 

Your cheeks burn with a mixture of lust and shame, knowing his body is likely reacting instinctively.  

“Yeosang-” You try again, pulling back slightly to see if you can wake him, to stop this-

His dark brown eyes meet yours in the dim moonlight, his lips parted as his fingers slip further down, fingertips dipping daringly into your now clenching cunt.

For a moment, all you can both do is look at one another as you hold tight to him, his eyes searching yours.

The silence is broken by your shameless whimper, your hips grinding down against him as he gives you a little grin.

“Should I stop?” He asks, his voice hoarse from sleep, though he continues to tease at your hole with shallow dips of his fingers.  

The hand on your ass squeezes gently, making it extremely hard to think.  

“Yeosang, I-” you try to say but then one of his fingers slips further into you, causing you to moan softly.  

“Is this because of me…or were you having a wet dream?” His eyes dance as he watches your face, seeming to enjoy the fact that you can’t form proper words.  

“You-but…oh god…” you whine as the hand on your ass slips over to yank your shorts farther from your crotch and you can hear a slight tearing noise as the material gives.

Something about the hungry look in his eyes, the soft rip of your flimsy shorts, the way his finger curls as your walls pulse around him tips you over the edge. 

His eyes widen as your mouth smashes against his, but they flutter softly as his tongue meets yours eagerly.

Your fingers twist up into the soft strands of his hair, tugging gently as a small growl leaves his throat.  

“No-don’t-fucking-stop-” you manage between breaths, your free hand slipping down to tug at his shirt.

Desperation suddenly takes over, and before you know it, his fingers part from your aching cunt and he’s lifting your hips, both of you clawing at the button on his jeans.  

You watch him as he watches both of your hands, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  

Following his gaze, you can’t help but bite your lip as he manages to finally unzip, then push down his pants.  

You can’t help but reach eagerly for his thick, rigid length as he tugs his boxer briefs down.  

All logical thought is gone as you hear his low, deep groan as your fingers slip along the silky skin of his cock.

There’s nothing slow or tentative about the way he grabs your hip, the way you guide him to your throbbing entrance.  

The way you cry out as he pulls you down, the way you stretch deliciously around him.

The quiet room fills with the combined sounds of your moans, the slapping sound of your bodies meeting as his hips tilt and thrust, guiding your own as you reach up to grab his shoulder.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” he groans, and you can feel the material of his underwear gathering your arousal as you leak down on them.  

You shudder as one of his hands yanks up your shirt, awkwardly trying to help him shed the offending garment.  

Tossing it to the side, his lips waste no time latching onto your nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh as he licks and sucks.

“Oh my god-” you cry out, feeling the tight knot in your abdomen ache. 

His mouth leaves your breast with soft pop, his breathing harsh as he looks up at you, his hips never faltering to meet yours.

“Yeah, baby? You like my cock?” His voice is deep and shaky, his pupils blown from lust as he grips your hair to force you to look at him as he thrusts even harder up into you.

“Fuck-Yeosang, I fucking love it-please-!” your brain fogs as his arm slips around your waist, holding you tight as he begins to set the pace.  

“Please what? Hmm?” He rasps out, his own moans peppering his speech as his fingers dig into your hip.  

“Tell me, baby.  Tell me what it is you want, hmm?  I’ll give you everything you want, you just have to ask-”

His words pause as he dips down to take your other nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly at the bud.

“Harder-” you cry out, “Feels so fucking good, I’m gonna-” 

At your words, he suddenly sits up, tipping you onto your back as he follows, guiding your legs around his hips.  

He somehow manages to keep himself deep inside of you, his form hovering over you now in the dark room.  

He tears his own shirt off before he’s pressing himself against you, your breasts squashed between you both.

“As you wish, Buttercup-” He growls, slipping his hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, his own setting a pace that leaves you breathless.

The sight of him above you, the feral gleam in his eyes as his cock seems to drag your quivering walls in all the right ways has your vision blurring at the edges.

Crying out, you rake your fingernails down his back and the way his eyes roll at the sensation has you rushing quickly towards alleviating the ache slowly bubbling within you.

“Yeah? Right there? You look so fucking good taking my cock, baby.” His deep voice paired with those words begins the first quiver of your impending orgasm.

“Right fucking there, harder-please-don’t stop, Yeosang!” You scream as you feel his body react to your words, to your slick walls pulsing around him.

“Come for me, that’s it-” he moans, the motion of his hips beginning to stutter, each thrust punctuated by a word. “Let me-see you-come around me with that-tight little cunt-” 

Your mouth opens on a long wail as you clamp around him, your entire body stiffening as you quake under the sensation.  

Your fingers grasp at his back and shoulders frantically as you chase your high as his pelvis grinds down into your clit, every nerve ending in your body seeming to fire all at once.

“Fuck, you look-so fucking beautiful-” his erratic breathing and moans suddenly hitch as he thrusts hard and deep, a long whimper escaping his throat.

His body stiffens as you feel his cock pulse over and over as he spills hot come within you, your name falling from his lips like a mantra.

Slowly, all of the noises die down as the early morning silence creeps back in.  

The thunder and rainfall from before has quieted.

Only the sounds of your labored breathing, of his muted pants and grunts as he slowly collapses on top of you hang in the air.

Bringing a shaking hand up to comb through his damp locks, you lean your cheek against his.  

“Yeosang?” You murmur, greeted with only a small whine in reply.

“Don’t say it.” He finally whispers, burying his face into your neck.

Confused, you pause your movements through his hair, your hand stilling on his back.

After a moment you merely reply, “Say what?”

“That this was a mistake. That you’re sorry.” he responds quickly, pulling back to look in your eyes, his own shifting and studying you.

“But I-”  you start, frowning but he cuts you off.

“I don’t care if you need comfort, I don’t care if you need to get your ex out of your head.” his eyes are pained, and you can only listen as he rambles.

“It doesn’t have to be anything if you don’t want it to be, but I’ve-” 

His throat works as the morning sun starts to illuminate his beautiful brown strands, kissing the honey of his skin and making him appear as glorious as any fictional god.

“-I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

His words take your breath away, and you can feel tears pricking your eyes as you blink in shock.

Brushing back his hair, you swallow back  a small sob as you bring his lips to yours, reveling in his confession.

The soft yellows and oranges start to light the room even as time seems to stop, the night's events culminating in this wonderful revelation.

By the time you part, the day is fully upon both of you.  

Clothing litters the area around you and you can feel the mixture of your releases leaking out from where he’s finally slipped out of you.  

His brow is furrowed as he takes you in, and you can see the hint of worry in his eyes as you begin to speak.

“The only thing I’m sorry about…” you say, feeling your cheeks heat, “...is getting touchy with you in your sleep….”

The silence lingers between you for a moment before it’s broken by his silly little giggle.

He leans down to peck your lips, rolling you both to the side as he cradles you in his arms.

“Is that all?” he asks, his voice deep and low as he nuzzles your cheek.

You close your eyes, your heart surging as his words finally seem to actually hit you fully.

“You…you love me?”  you ask him, pulling back to look at him fully.  

His cheeks stain with a hint of red as he nods, his eyes darting away.  

Cupping his cheek, you tilt his head back so his eyes meet yours once more.

“My ex has nothing to do with anything, Yeosang.  Long before him….it was you.”  

He blinks as he processes your own confession, then his lips are on yours once more.  

Not many words are spoken after, throughout the day and into the evening as you both finally express the long held back emotions for one another.

When you get a delivery of morning glories the next day at work, you swear everything you’ve gone through has been worth it.  

Of course, you think, wiping your eyes.  Of course he knew your favorite flower.

Pulling out the card, you can only let the tears roll down your cheeks at the words that stir your very soul.

“From the moment you came into my life, I knew it was always going to be you.  From your favorite food to the way your eyes dance when you laugh, I’ve memorized every aspect of you.  The good, the bad and everything in between, it’s always been you.  I’ve weathered the dormancy of winter while I waited for you; now that the spring has begun, let’s tend this garden together and watch our love bloom. As the flower implies, this is my promise.  Whether your petals are open to warm yourself in the morning sun, or withered by the evening, you will forever be my morning glory.”

[ataleofcrowns]

Note On Previous Chapters

Wanted let you all know ahead of time, while I'm writing CH12 I've decided to add some important coding updates to previous chapters. Namely the checks that involve the Crown's security, which impacts what happens in CH9, and their relationships with the nobles and the public.

I wasn't very experienced with handling so many different variables at once when I first designed these systems, so in hindsight I can see that it has come at the expense of clarity on which choices contribute to which outcomes.

Particularly the Crown's security and how the choices you make in CH6 connect to the outcome in CH9 have been bothering me, so I'm going to endeavor to clean it up a bit, as well as add some more hints in CH9's text to indicate which choices may have lead to the outcome you get. I noticed that I also changed the variables involved in those decisions somewhere later along the way, but I seem to have forgotten to go back and update previous chapters--so some of the choices you make regarding that sequence haven't been registering properly lol.

Thankfully, the benefit of AToC being a WIP is that I can go back and edit stuff without feeling bad about it!!

You may want to replay the game starting from CH5 if possible once CH12 releases (I can't tell you when that will be other than before the end of the year haha), in order to update the stats correctly so you don't run into any bugs. But I'll remind you of it again once the chapter releases, too.

Mostly I know some players have remarked that the transparency regarding those choices was lacking, so I wanted them to know that I'm working on the issue!!

Thank you for your patience 💖

[rinhaler]

I Should Just Walk Away !

His knuckles are split, what are you meant to do? Not tend his wounds? Someone’s gotta do it! It doesn’t mean you’re going to fuck him again. No way.

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot (and a sprinkle of angst?) Notes: I'm gonna make a masterlist and stuff bc I love this au but I'm lazy pls bear with me! ♡ Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, blood ♡, wound care, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, tit sucking ♡, slight edging?, dacryphilia, m+f masturbation, car sex ♡, vaginal sex, creampie ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, kid), mutual pining ♡, angst??, calls ur pussy she/her ♡, (lmk if i missed any!!) Words: 8k

—

Even after proclamations of love for each other, the rest of the ride home is silent and uncomfortable. In hindsight, it might not have been the best decision to divulge the truth of your tryst with Sukuna to your little brother.

You could try to reassure him. But what would be the point? You’re only a few years older than him, yet somehow, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager. When you were Megumi’s age, though, you had parents.

They were alive.

Sure, you were somewhat rebellious but you behaved for the most part. You studied, worked hard, steered clear of ‘bad’ boys. And, as Sukuna so elegantly put it, you’re a ‘snooty doctor’. You’re thankful for that, because without that salary you’d never be able to afford subsidising your brother.

You had your parents.

But you’re all Megumi has.

It’s a little unsettling how quiet he’s actually being. You were bickering not too long ago, you’re taken aback that he seems to have no desire to continue. A fleeting thought that he might be trying to punish you enters your mind.

Your head snaps a few times to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same. There’s a little grimace on his face as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

It’s disgust.

“Are we okay?” you wonder, and the way it leaves your lips in a warble must be pathetic for your brother to hear. He scoffs immediately after, still outright refusing to say another word. You make sure to keep an eye on the road, though your gaze can’t help but wander towards your sibling when you get a chance. “I’m just going to make sure he’s patched up properly, okay? He’s not staying the night.”

“As if that matters.” he rolls his eyes.

It should matter. You don’t know what he means, and you don’t dare ask him to elaborate. There’s no reason for you to be scared of a seventeen-year-old. You aren’t. You’re more afraid of disappointing him.

“Megumi…” you take a breath. “It’s late. I think we should talk properly tomorrow.”

He takes a breath not too dissimilar to yours, you aren’t sure if it’s inherited or if it’s a habit he’s picked up from you. Is he mocking you? He doesn’t say much more, shrugging his shoulders is an answer all on its own. And still, it makes your heart twist as anxiety pierces through it like a stake.

“Fine.”

“Really?!” you bark out unintentionally. Maybe he’s more mature than you’ve given him credit for, because agreeing to talk properly is the last thing you expected. Your eyebrows knot briefly, and you look at him again when you reach a red light. “Are you fucking with me? You’re not serious, are you? You’re gonna sneak out in the morning and I won’t see you until—”

“I said fine. Didn’t I?” he grunts. “At least be quiet when you fuck him if you insist on lecturing me in the morning.”

“I’m not doing it again, I told you.” you assure him. “It was a stupid mistake and I regret it but I just wanna make sure his hand is okay. And then I’ll tell him to leave. I promise.”

“Should prob’ly tell him that, ‘cause he won’t stick around once he realises.” you both find yourselves looking in the rearview mirror at the man following behind you at a distance before quickly averting your eyes. “Don’t make promises you’re not gonna keep. You sound like my dad.”

“Ouch, babe. Noted.” you laugh a little despite being genuinely offended.

The rest of the journey is completed with your brain on auto-pilot. You aren’t even sure how you made it home without crashing once you realise you’ve parked perfectly in the driveway.

Megumi snatches your purse and ducks out of the car, making a beeline for the front door. You watch him as you allow your head to gently thud against the headrest behind you; he’s frantically looking for the house keys so he can shield himself from any possible sighting of you and his boss together.

He drops your purse on the ground with little care once he finds what he’s looking for, and you’re startled when you hear a knuckle lightly rap against your window.

“Nice place, princess.” he speaks, though it’s slightly muffled by the closed window.

“Stop calling me—”

“Oi. Pick up the purse.” Sukuna warns your little brother before he can hide indoors.

He looks over his shoulder at you both before slowly crouching down to pick it up. He grips it tight before finally disappearing.

Sukuna gives you room to breathe before offering a hand to help you out. Like you’ve never gotten out of your car before. Instead of taking it, you stare. You stare at his obscenely large hand and can’t help but remember his fingers had been inside of you mere moments ago.

You smile, as politely as you can, before hurriedly chasing after your brother.

He saunters after you with a lazy smirk playing on his features. You only see it when you remember you’d forgotten to lock your car. The sound of his Mercedes locking is a deafening reminder.

You enter your home; he hadn’t even bothered to turn a single light on as he charged straight towards the kitchen. You’d expected him to have locked himself in his bedroom by now. But instead, his silhouette is illuminated by the light emanating from the open fridge.

He grunts when you switch on the living room light, looking at you like a raccoon caught going through the trash as he chomps down on the cereal you’d bought on the way home from work.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the cupboard?” you ask him as you take off your coat and throw it down over the back of the couch. “You shouldn’t be eating so late, y’know.”

“I’m starving. I didn’t eat today, ‘m a growing boy, y’know.” he counters. He moves to look through each and every cupboard. He looks at you and shrugs before continuing to eat.

Your eyes are both directed to the sound of a gently closing door. You half smile at Sukuna as he enters before you look at your brother again in contemplation.

“Oh I moved it to the bathroom ‘cause we never use it.” you sigh as you make your way there. “You can finish eating in your room if you want.”

“Tryna get me out the way?” he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t wanna stick around here anyway.” he side eyes Sukuna as he walks with his bowl towards his room.

You don’t see the amused grin he offers your little brother while you retrieve the first aid kit.

If you had, you’re sure you would have sent him home too.

“Sorry,” you groan, setting the kit down on the coffee table. You stand with your hands on your hips as you stare at him. It’s dawning on you, now, regardless of how exhausted you are. You’ve let a man you barely know into your home. A man older and stronger than you’d ever hope to be. You’ve welcomed a criminal into the space that is meant to be the safest for your little brother.

“I’m not gonna kill ya, sweetheart.” he cuts through your thoughts as if he can read your mind. It makes your heart race, though your face remains stoic as you try and disguise your evident worry. “Last thing I wanna do is scare you, though. I’ll go if you’re—”

“No, it’s fine.” you interject. “I’m tired, though. I’m gonna get changed because I wanna go straight to sleep after this, okay? You’re not staying.”

“Shame, I had fun.” he grins, circling the couch before sinking into it. His body is angled towards you while his eye looks you up and down with purpose. “Get comfy, I’ll be right here waiting for you, darlin’.”

Even someone as headstrong as you can’t deny how giddy he makes you. You walk backwards, unable to take your eyes off him before you eventually find your bedroom. Everything he says is so intentional, it’s almost vindictive. Like he knows just what to say to have you weak at the knees for him.

But this isn’t you.

You’ve never been the type to fall for a man’s alleged charm quite so easily. But you also didn’t think you were the type of person to fuck a stranger. He isn’t exactly a stranger, though.

He’s Megumi’s boss.

“Stop calling him that.” you whisper to yourself as you try and break yourself out of your spiralling train of thought.

You dress yourself in the most unflattering pyjamas you can find, wearing them with the full expectation of turning Sukuna off of you. He can’t possibly still be angling to fuck again when he sees you in mismatched pyjamas, complete with aged holes and stains from that one spaghetti night you and Megumi attempted.

There’s a feeble attempt made at wiping your makeup off, although you barely try. Your smile is almost blinding as you look at what a mess you are. The panda eyes from your smeared eyeliner and mascara enhance your sunken eyebags. Your eyeshadow glitters across the bridge of your nose and into your hairline beside your temples. Your pretty lipstick that you’d lined so perfectly is half removed while the other half is smudged down your chin.

You emerge from your bedroom with a confidence you only ever experience when you’re at home in your comfiest clothes. Despite your appearance, and even despite your company, you’re so content.

His eyes squint as he looks at your face, and even still, he’s smiling. He chuckles softly as you get closer to him, sitting beside him as you open the first aid kit.

“You look way prettier like this, princess.” he tells you, folding his arms across his chest as he continues to stare.

“Ah! Really? You think I look prettier?” you ask sarcastically.

“No, you look awful.” he laughs. “Is this all for my benefit? I still want to fuck you, admirable attempt though.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes as he laughs a little more, and you force yourself to frown when you realise his laughter is contagious. Everything he does is so effortless; you can’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled so hard it hurt your cheeks.

His eye fixates on you as you begin to look through your little first aid kit and pick a few things to use on his knuckles.

“I’m sure you could have done this yourself,” you start as you pick up a packet of antiseptic wipes and begin to clear the blood surrounding his knuckles. “Could have gone to a walk-in place if you were really worried.”

“Of course I could. Been doing this for years, did you really believe I don’t have my own first aid kit?” he asks. “I wanted you to do it.” he confesses, though he’s no longer smiling. You don’t stop wiping away the combination of wet and crusted over blood on his hand, though you can’t help but stare back at him.

Is he trying to scare you?

“You’re unbelievable.” you tell him, quietly.

“It’s hard to do it with one hand, sweetheart. And you’re a professional, I’d have to be an idiot to do it myself.”

You look away, only to pour rubbing alcohol onto a clean wipe. He can’t help but be transfixed as he watches you, admiring how your dainty little hands are so delicate with the equipment. How your face appears so irritated as you perform tedious tasks such as this, but you do it regardless, and he thinks it’s sweet.

“You should be on my payroll,” he finally smiles again. “My private doctor.”

“No.” you shut him down.

“I forgot how stuck up you are. I thought you’d at least be fununtil tomorrow.”

“Be grateful I’m doing this at all.” you reply with ease. All enjoyment and giddiness over his company seems to be a distant memory as you recall the type of man he actually is. You’re grouchy and exhausted, and he’s testing your patience. “I don’t like you and I don’t like what you do. And I hate that you’re involving Megumi.”

“Lighten. Up.” he warns you.

You press the wipe quickly into his cuts, and you can’t help but smile as he winces from the abrupt stinging pain. You laugh harder as he tries to downplay it. His expression becomes unreadable as he tries to appear detached. You can see it in his visible eye, though. It’s watering.

He can’t help but break at the sound of your laughter, however, as you continue to snicker whilst rummaging through for a roll of gauze to wrap around his knuckles.

“I usually don’t crack when I do that myself. You wanted it to hurt.” he smirks, shaking his head.

“Guilty.” you continue to giggle as you face him again.

He doesn’t say another word as he watches you wrap a thick enough layer of bandages around his bloody knuckles. The somewhat shallow lacerations seem to cause slight discomfort despite being taken care of. You watch him, purposefully, as he flexes his fingers a few times to test how it feels.

You aren’t sure if he knows you’re staring, but his guard seems down. It could be an act to disarm you, but you aren’t convinced he’s a good enough actor to pull it off. The genuine curiosity and intrigue on his face due to your handiwork makes you feel off. Is he judging your ability to provide proper care?

It’s not like you wanted to.

But you both know that’s a lie.

He grins when he finally notices you staring at him. And that makes you relax. You were right, he was genuinely lost in thought despite being in your presence.

“You should go now,” you say quietly. You angle your body to rest your arm over the back of the couch, your balled fist supporting your head as you begin to yawn. “I’m tired.”

“Sure.” he nods, moving to stand before relaxing into the soft seating. “I need your number.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, ya need to give it to me sweetheart,” he smirks, mirroring your body language. “Need it so I can tell you when I wanna see you again.”

You scoff, shaking your head defiantly at his bold claim. The thought of him clicking his fingers for you to come running like a loyal lap dog is almost enough to make you gag. You’d slap him if it wasn’t so late, you’re too tired and you don’t want to cause a fuss for Megumi or your neighbours.

“You’re never gonna see me again,” you smile, biting your lip as you look him up and down. “And you’re not seeing Megumi, either. He’s done with your little fight club. And I’m done with you, period.”

“Aren’t you meant to be smart? Concerning that a doctor could be so naïve.” he squints slightly as he regards you, looking you up and down as you had him. You’re so sure of yourself, he can’t help but wonder if you’ve forgotten about your current appearance. “I’ll be seein’ you both again. Megumi isn’t quitting. And I like you, and I’m not the type of man to give up things I like.”

“Tough shit,” you laugh lightly. “You’re gonna have to find another poor woman to pester. I’ve got enough going on without dealing with a loser like you.”

“A loser? Really?” he chortles. “You were moaning on my dick and calling me daddy earlier. Now I’m a loser?”

“Shut up.”

He leans in close to you, noses almost touching and his smile widens further as he sees how glittery your face is from your poor makeup removal. “Are you only going to be nice to me when I fuck that brat out of you?”

You turn your head away, your heart racing as your body betrays you. The want and desire bubbles in the pit of your stomach. But you can’t. You know you can’t; because you promised.

He isn’t special.

Sukuna is not special.

“You’re not fucking anything out of me.” you tell him, peering out of the corner of your eye to see him look a little surprised at your declaration. He thought you were playing hard to get. You aren’t playing. “It was a one-time thing.”

“Really?” he asks, barely missing a beat as he responds. “I don’t understand you. I thought—”

“Of course you don’t understand me. You’ve known me for a few hours. Just because we’ve fucked doesn’t mean you know me.” you remind him. And he nods, he agrees with you. He’d be a fool not to, and the man is no fool. “It was just a heat of the moment mistake. I mean it. I don’t want to see you again and I’m not letting Megumi fight anymore.”

“Why?”

“Why?” you scoff. “He’s a child. It’s dangerous. I don’t want him—”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not stupid, I know why you don’t want him to fight anymore. Do I look like a moron to you?” he asks, voice gruff and harsh as he interrupts without a care. His temper is visible and rising as he begins to run out of patience for your attitude with him. “Why don’t you want to see me?”

“Because you’re shady and I don’t want to upset my brother. He’s already upset, I don’t want to make it worse.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“Excuse m—”

“That’s a reason why Megumi doesn’t want you to see me. Yeah I’m a little shady, but you like me. I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me come over here, see where and how you live, and tend my wounds like a good girl.” he sneers.

“Fine. I don’t like you and I don’t want to have a platonic relationship with a criminal. Let alone a romantic one. What happened earlier was a mistake.”

“… You’re lying.” he says, and it’s curt. You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head with an amused laugh as you digest his denial. How he can sit there and act so full of himself when you’re being perfectly clear is beyond you. It’s jarring.

You jolt as you feel thick fingers lightly grip your jaw. Your wandering gaze is now brought to him. Your eyes forced to fixate on the placid expression plastered across chiselled features.

“I see you, princess. You don’t wanna see me because you want to get mixed up with a criminal, and you’re scared of that. I see you.”

You stare at him, licking your lips not so discreetly as he continues to cradle your jaw. His lips curl at the sight of the little pink muscle slipping between your lips to wet them. You’re angry. Furious at yourself for letting him touch you, hold you, like this. And you hate yourself, right now. Maybe even more than you hate him, too.

Because he’s right.

Your lack of action gives him cause to stare down at your shimmering lips, it’s a warning. A silent announcement for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t let go, but his head tilts. He leans in closer to you, daring to give you what you both know you want.

And again, he’s thwarted.

You turn away, unable to look at him right after this time.

“… You should go, now.” you tell him.

He sighs, but pulls away. You almost mewl as his thumb softly swipes across your chin. And when he withdraws it, you feel your body fill with loneliness. Your skin feels colder.

And it hurts, because he’s on the right track. You’re pushing him away because of Megumi. But deep down, as much as you crave him right now, you know it’s the right thing to do. You jolt a little as he abruptly stands up from the couch, the breeze from his movement makes you freeze.

He sees it.

“Go to bed, you’ll warm up.” he says bluntly before making his way towards the front door. He stops as he grabs the handle, holding up his bloodied knuckles. “Thank you, for the first aid.”

“It’s… it’s fine. No problem. Goodnight, S-Sukuna.” you say, cursing yourself for the audible whine in your words despite your attempted conviction. You watch him as he grabs the handle before turning to face you again.

“Come with me.” he tells you, curling the tip of his index finger. “I need to give you something, don’t argue. For once.” he demands.

You’re compelled to follow, in spite of his demeaning way of summoning you. You truly don’t want him to leave, you don’t want him to go, so any extra time you can spend with him, you’ll take.

He walks ahead of you, leaving you shivering in the doorway as you try and preserve any warmth you can. He opens the door to his car and turns around, a little bewildered that you aren’t right behind him. It makes you giggle to see him look around in search of you before he finally spots you still at the front door.

“Come here.”

You close the door and rush to his side, quickly looking back to make sure Megumi isn’t looking for you. He rests his arm atop the roof of his Mercedes, before holding out a small piece of paper between his fingers to you.

It’s a business card.

“What kind of thug needs a business card?” you ask before you even think about what you’re saying. He scoffs, squinting at you.

“You’ve only fucked me once, you don’t know me.” he smirks. And at that, you can’t help but laugh. “What you said… makes it seem like we’ll learn more about each other if we keep fucking.”

“I don’t want to know you, Sukuna.” you sigh, reluctant to keep up the charade. Reluctant to keep pretending he doesn’t excite you. To keep pretending the few hours you’ve spent with him haven’t been the liveliest your life has been in years. Maybe ever, really. “I can’t be selfish, you don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised.” he says, abruptly. “Why did you follow me out here if you don’t want to know me?”

“Because you asked me to, you said you wanted to give me something…”

“You could have said no. Do you always do what people tell you? You wanted to. I wanted you to. And now you’re here, you have my number. If you want to be selfish… you know where I am.”

“I don’t—” you sigh, shivering aggressively before you push his card back into his chest. “I don’t need this.”

He grabs your wrist hellbent on sending you away with this one little piece of the puzzle of his life. A way to talk to him again if you change your mind. He’s giving you access, he wants you to take it, desperately.

He crouches down, levelling his head with your own so his one, uncovered eye is levelled with yours. He can’t help but smile, it’s almost maniacal, as he watches your resolve falter under his glare.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, kid.” he grins. “And you’re not all that smart, for a doctor.”

Your face burns with heat. And you can’t tell if it’s rage or lust. Do you want to kiss him or kill him? You don’t know, you don’t know. His smile grows wider as he realises what he’s done to you. Your faces are so close to each other and this time you can’t will yourself to turn away. You can’t submit, not after this.

“I’m smarter than you.” is all you can think to say. It feels pathetic and phoned in. And he reads it, too, by the ever-growing look of amusement on his face.

“I don’t doubt that.” he nods. “What’s got you all hot ‘n bothered, hm? ‘Cause I called you a dumb li’l doctor? Or ‘cause daddy, called you kid?”

You feel your face sear further. So much so you can even detect each and every drop of sweat beading at your hairline. You’d forgotten it was freezing outside, instead trying to find a way to subtly cool yourself.

“You d-didn’t even call me dumb. I’m not.” you say, stuttering over yourself like a true idiot as you try and gain some semblance of composure through this agonising conversation.

He closes the already small distance between you, placing his hand on the small of your back and pulling you towards him. Your eyes flutter closed under his as he examines you. His head tilting and turning, forcing himself in your line of view.

“I am learning more about you. Should we fuck about it, sweetheart?”

“What are you—”

“Do I remind you of your old man, hah? I bet that’s it… was daddy never proud of you?” he chuckles darkly, carding his fingers through your hair as he stares down at you. “S’that why you like me, darlin?”

“Shut up.” you respond, voice meek and pathetic as you wrestle with your will and want. His fingers lace through your hair, delicately holding the crown of your head before you find yourself being pulled closer still. His lips ghost yours, and he’s a tease. He’s such a fucking tease.

“Got a thing for older guys who talk to you like shit… I see it. Get too much respect at your little doctor job all day. Do you like being talked down to, hm? No wonder you like a thug like me.”

“You don’t know what you’re— You d-don’t even know.”

“Yeah? I don’t?” he asks, his tone melodious and teasing. His head tilts back, the feel of his lips intensely teasing yours soon broken as he does. But you look up to him, eyes full of anguish and sorrow like a kicked puppy who doesn’t know what it wants. You hate him and the reason is clear.

You don’t hate him at all.

You just hate that he’s right.

“I think I’m right. I think you’ve got daddy issues, and you like it when I call you kid.” you turn away as he speaks. But almost as quickly as you do, he’s forcing you to look at him again. His ruby eye flaring, an expression all of its own. A warning, a look of command. A look of lust. “Am I right, baby? Is your little cunt soaked ‘cause I call you kid?”

“… I have to go.” you say, quietly.

“Sure.” he smirks.

A sense of déjà vu overwhelms you as you recognise in his smile that you’ve done this dance before. You can’t move and you can’t speak. There is no desire in you to leave him now and return to your home, your bed, like you should.

All you can do is stare. Your eyes fixated on the man who has just read you like a book. His amused expression doesn’t falter. He’s patient, surprisingly. You wouldn’t have painted him as a man with patience. But looking at him now, you know he’d be willing to wait all night if he had to. He’d wait for the sun to rise just to prove a point.

But he doesn’t need to.

You lunge forward, your hand cupping his face as you break the boiling tension between you and seal your acceptance with a scalding kiss.

He won.

He told you before, he doesn’t lose.

Your lips suctioning and pecking at his would make you embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. He welcomes it, too, meeting yours with just as much urgency. He wraps his arms around your back as you slip your tongue between his lips, allowing them to tangle and swirl in a passionate encounter.

He chuckles into it as you curse. Curse him, curse his name. You can’t believe he’s reduced you to this, again. Your heart heaves in your chest, and you break away just to instruct him.

“Open the fucking back door.”

He laughs again, keeping hold of you as he guides you in a way he can carry on kissing you and still do as he’s told. He ducks in first, pulling you in with him right after. You grind your hips against his heavy bulge as he closes the door after you. He looks up to admire you, to adore you.

“You smeared your makeup like a fucking idiot so I wouldn’t fuck you,” he laughs. “And look at you, humping my cock like a desperate little pet.”

“Shiiiit, I forgot I’m a mess.” you sigh, though you don’t really care. You wrap your arms around his neck, keening as his heavy palms grip your thighs press you flush against his body. “This is the last time. I m-mean it.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” he says, smugly.

You dismiss it, too enamoured by the feeling of his bulge alone as you continue to grind down hard and purposefully onto him. He’s relaxed, allowing you to take the lead and go at your own pace.

It’s embarrassing, really, you’re not as experienced as he seems to be. He’s older. And you hate to admit it, wiser. When it comes to encounters such as this, anyway. You’re smart and well read, sure, but casual hook ups are foreign to you.

You’ll keep that to yourself for as long as you can, you can’t think of anything worse than giving Sukuna that little tidbit of information about you. That he is only the third guy you’ve fucked.

He hit the nail on the head back at the club, but you can’t let him know that.

“Let me feel.” he mutters. His hand holds your hip to keep you in place. Another snakes down into your sleep shorts, his mouth falls open with an amused chuckle as he touches you. “Still full’a me, baby. Bet I’ll slide right in.”

His fingers play with your pussy without any real goal. And still, it makes you delirious. He smears the evidence of your previous tryst around your folds, and he watches with conviction as his fingers circle your clit.

He withdraws them, briefly, to move your shorts into the crease of your thigh. You watch him, and he doesn’t take his eye off you, either. Your lower lip droops as you admire him. Truthfully, you’ve never been in the presence of someone so domineering as him. He is the true definition of a red-blooded male.

Sukuna is huge. In the literal sense, he is unnaturally tall. His build is enormous, his hand is larger than your face. But his aura alone is enough to fill an entire room with an ambience that he sees fit. He could instil fear into the minds of men just because he wills it.

Unfortunately for you, you are not immune to his will.

“You’re so pent up darlin’, you must work hard. Y’need to relax… no wonder you can’t keep your hands off me.” he says. It could be read as demeaning. You think it should be. And yet, you don’t detect any malice from him. He makes a show of spitting on his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as the ‘ptuh’ sound leaves his lips. It makes you shudder.

Though when he touches you with such purpose, so lewdly, a whine you never knew you could make leaves your lungs. He looks up at you like you hung every star in the sky as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. The ‘shlick’ suctioning sounds of your already tainted walls couldn’t possibly be any louder.

He sees how embarrassed you are, but he doesn’t care. Your nose crinkles and your eyes close softly. He curls his fingers and his palm flattens against your clit. And you cry out for him, lurching forward as you wrap your arms around his head rather than his neck. He’s surprised to see your hips rock against his touches, riding his fingers like it’s the only contact you’ve ever known.

His free hand reaches up to tug down your vest. His tongue is flat and wide as he sticks it out to lick your bare tits. He isn’t rough, he isn’t aggressive, he isn’t rushing. He sensually swirls his tongue over your nipples, breathing heavily on occasion before he kisses them. You whimper when he sporadically skims his teeth across them. There’s no bite. No effort. He just wants to hear you cry for him like that. It’s like his teeth are barely there, just enough that you know they are.

“Do you touch yourself?” he mumbles against your skin. You can’t bear to look at him after hearing that. You pretend you didn’t, moaning louder as a diversion. It’s fruitless, and apparently you aren’t a good actress. He yanks your hair and forces you to look at him. His fingers stop, and your body writhes from the loss. “Don’t do that again. Answer me.”

“S-Sukuna…” you fuss. The feeling of your building pleasure being torn away from you is making you stupid. It’s pathetic. And yet, in spite of how humiliating it is, you’re still rolling your hips in a bid to get the feeling back. His expression falters to one you can’t read. You think it’s annoyance, but it’s so detached and expressionless. You yelp as he withdraws his fingers completely, with no time to feel the loss when he grabs your face with his slick-coated hand.

“I want to know if you make your pretty pussy cum after a hard day at work.” he says calmly, a low rumble in his chest as the words roll plainly from his tongue. Your eye contact falters as you notice him pulling at his sweatpants in search of his aching length. “And I want you to show me how you touch her. So go on, answer my question.”

“I… I—” you stumble. You watch him intensely as he frees his throbbing cock. He wraps his fist around himself and lazily strokes. He still glares at your features. While you’re utterly captivated by his cock.

It looks so angry. Too pretty and perfect to be real, you think. But somehow, it is. You think he’d be better suited as a porn star than a criminal with an asset like that. He spends an extra second squeezing his length just below the tip when he strokes himself, it’s like he’s ringing all of the pre out that he can. It dribbles out of his slit, coating his tip the more he summons. It’s beguiling.

You suppose you hadn’t really had a chance to admire him back at the club. It was so heated and hasty. Now, it’s purposeful. You look at his face again when you realise this is what he wants. He wanted you to look at how he touches himself and how gorgeous his cock is. He wants you to see how big he is and how much he aches and throbs when he needs to be buried in a sweet little cunt.

He wants the memory of this to stain your mind.

“I d-don’t.” you confess. “Not much… I’m always tired. Busy.”

“Mhmm… I can tell.” he nods, his voice is somewhat sympathetic. “Come here, princess. Sit on it.”

His hand grips into your hip while he lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him, you don’t hesitate. You let him push you down, you eagerly suck him in. Your eyes roll back as you feel him swell through your walls. Even after taking him earlier, you’d forgotten how monstrous he feels inside. And this time, somehow, he feels bigger.

“Fu-uck,” you gasp as his tip immediately nudges at your sweet spot. You hold his shoulders and hope he’ll assist you. The thought of disappointing him makes you anxious. The idea of him knowing how inexperienced you really are makes you sick.

He throws his head back as your hole swallows him greedily. He looks at you through a heavy-lidded stare, and relief fills you as his hands grab the fat of your ass. You moan pathetically as he spreads them. But his ultimate goal is to bounce you on his cock. You feel weightless in his hands as he helps you. Each steep drop down onto his length makes your throat tight.

He's there.

You feel him there.

“Play with yourself, go on. Rub her f’me.” he says lethargically.

And your face feels like fire. The foreplay was gasoline and his command is a match. And yet, out of fear of him withholding pleasure from you again, you comply. Your hand slithers between your thighs and you do all you can to pretend you’re elsewhere.

You try and pretend you’re in your room, in your bed. What usually gets you going is a mildly heated scene from a movie or TV show. The sexual tension of an almost kiss makes your face flush, though a lot less than it is now. And you think it’s unbearable to witness sexual tension and not see any resolve, so you scamper to find a video online to suit your needs. Something quick and short as you reach into your nightstand to find your favourite toy.

The thought of being caught by your brother makes you sick so you have to be fast with it. The website you ordered it from assured the toy would be whisper quiet. And you can only hope it’s true. You don’t touch yourself, not without aid. And even then, it’s sparse. You haven’t rubbed your clit with your own fingers in years.

Years of being riled up and having a useless boyfriend who didn’t know what he was doing lead you to finishing yourself off each and every time. And you knew, the moment you got a job and your own income, you’d buy yourself a vibrator.

It’s hard to pretend Sukuna isn’t here, though. It’s hard to pretend you’re in your room with Netflix playing quietly enough in the background it can still cover the sound of soft core moaning from your phone while you vibrate yourself to completion.

Because his cock fills your each and every thought. Every sense you possess is dominated by him. The feel of him stretching you out beyond your limit and repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. The sound of the sticky tacking of his length as he slams you up and down on his pulsing member.

Your vision alternates between his gorgeous gaze and the point where your bodies connect again and again. Your pussy gushes slick and the evidence of your prior combined coupling stains your inner thighs and his crotch.

The scent of your sex fills the car and the heat of your sweaty bodies exacerbates it. Your skin is damp, as is his. And it’s overwhelming. He groans into a chuckle as you moan louder and louder for him. If anyone happens to be awake at this ungodly hour, they’ll no doubt hear you. If anyone looks out of the window, they’ll see how the car rocks back and forth. It turns you on further. The tang of sweat and arousal filling the car. It makes you lightheaded.

“I can— fuck— c-can taste you, daddy…” you whine. He urges you to fall forward so he can kiss you. It forces you to take over, moving your hips on your own as you try and maintain your building pleasure. “You’re too big… can feel you in my throat, Sukuna… tastes so good.”

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.” he smirks, kissing you again. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Not the good girl you pretend to be, hah?”

You nod, agreeing. He’s right, after all. You’re talking in a way you didn’t know you had in you. He takes over again, holding your rear so he can take full control of your body. He guides you repeatedly until your eyes cross from the pleasure. Your walls tighten, and your throat feels hoarse as you cry out for him.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, kid. Don’t be shy. Cum for daddy.” he encourages you.

You cry, at that. Falling forwards to envelop him in your arms as you come undone. He coos, sweetly, kissing your cheeks and licking away your tears. The feeling isn’t lost on you, the feeling of disgust. You’ve never felt happiness or value like you did just now. Realising how right he was about your issues and using them to subdue you.

Your pussy gushes and he moans further, chest roaring as he finally lets his sight drop to see what a pretty mess you’ve made of yourself.

Made of him.

Made for him.

He pushes his thumb into your clit and rubs quickly, further extending your pleasure through it all. You could just about cum again when you feel him shoot another load into you, his warmth filling your womb for the second time today. It makes you feel special. It makes you feel loved.

The very idea of it has you pushing yourself away from him desperately. But he holds you close. His moans are boisterous and uncaring. It’s loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, you think. And at the very least, you’re sure Megumi will hear if he doesn’t have his headphones on.

His arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place, his feet planted firmly on the floor of the car as he fucks himself into you. He’s sure to empty every last drop into your cunt, his balls slap against your ass as he ploughs into you furiously.

And when he stops, you freeze. You feel cold. You feel filthy.

He doesn’t discard you or try to kick you out. The opposite, really. He’s still holding you close, lightly peppering your chilled skin with kisses. Eventually stopping to rest his head on your chest. He feels you try to move away, but he only holds you tighter.

So you stop trying to leave. And instead, you run your fingers through his hair. He hums contently, at that. And you feel your heart pound harder, a little smile works its way onto your face.

Maybe he’s not so bad.

That thought alone makes you stop. He looks up at you, his stare soft and gentle as he wonders what made you halt your actions so abruptly. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you move to leave.

“I have to go, I really have to go now.” you say bluntly. He huffs, watching as you scramble to put your clothes back in place, clambering off him in a hurry. He doesn’t say anything in response. He watches as you scramble to open the door. Tears of panic begin to fall as you struggle to open it, you frantically pull and push as you try to get away. He leans over, and with little effort, he opens the door for you.

“Goodbye.” he says, simply.

“G-Goodbye.” you respond, ducking out and briskly walking to your front door.

You take a deep breath when you get there, preparing for the possibility that Megumi is about to greet you and bite your head off. Sukuna doesn’t move. He stays in the back seat and watches you with a sombre expression. With no inclination of what happened to change your mood, he can only assume he stepped out of line.

He doesn’t want to leave just yet. At least not until he knows you’re safely inside.

As you grab the handle of the door and push, your heart sinks.

“No, no, no… d-don’t do this to me now.” you sob, hysterically fiddling and pushing the door. You stupidly think that you just need to try harder and it will open. But no such thing comes to pass. You’ve locked yourself out.

Sukuna sits upright when he realises, watching as you slowly turn to look at him. His hand folds, gesturing for you to come closer. And with no other option, you do. Your phone is inside as well as your car keys. You can’t text Megumi to tell him what you’ve done. And even if you could, he’d only come outside to see that you’ve let him down. Again.

“Silly girl.” he says, looking at you with a weak smile when you finally approach. You duck down to look at him, not willing to get inside with him. “Do you want to come to my place? I’ll bring you back in the morning.” he suggests.

“I’m not fucking—”

“You can stay in a different room.” he answers your obvious assumption with a reasonable response. And still…

“N-No. I don’t want to go to your house.”

“Then I guess we’re sleeping in the car. Come on.” he sighs. He waits until you get in, begrudgingly, and then gets out himself. You watch him as he circles to the trunk of his car, looking ahead at your home as you wait for him to return. And he does, with a large, fur blanket.

“Why do you have this?” you wonder.

“I don’t remember. You better not be complaining, sweetheart. You’re lucky I didn’t fuck off right after I came like I usually do. Especially after that little performance.”

“Performance?!” you yell. You position yourself as far away from him as you can in the confined space, sitting as closely to the door as you can. “You just don’t get it! At all.”

“You’ve made that clear, princess. Don’t worry. I’ll steer clear when you get back inside tomorrow. I’m too old to be playing stupid games with little girls who don’t know what they want.”

You huff, covering your legs with the blanket before folding your arms.

“I told you it was a mistake.” you correct him. “I told you I didn’t want to see you or do that again.”

“Shut up.” he shakes his head. “Just go to sleep and we’ll never have to see each other again. Because that’s what you want, yes?”

You pause before speaking. Images of his delicate expression in your arms haunt you. You’d overreacted because of your own cowardice. Because of a promise you evidently had no intention of keeping. It wasn’t a performance. It was just… fear.

“Yes.” you tell him. Your response is bold and scathing.

He doesn’t react, he merely shrugs, adjusting the blanket over his own legs, too. His arms cross over his chest, and his head rests against the window. You can’t see beyond his eye covering, but you assume his visible eye is closed.

You do the same, hoping you fall asleep sooner rather than later.

You’re wrong, though.

His eye is open wide, looking upwards to the light polluted sky. There are a few stars visible, three. He stares at them, thinking about the events of the evening. He hadn’t expected to end up fucking once tonight let alone twice. But when you walked into his club and tried to give him a piece of your mind, he knew.

He knew he’d have to have you.

And he hadn’t expected to be so lucky so have you again, like this. But he can’t put his finger on why things went so sour. It could be one thing or a number of things. He has ideas. He thinks your less complicated than you seem to think you are. You’re keeping him at arm’s length, and that, he understands.

He’s a stranger, but he doesn’t have to be.

He doesn’t want to be.

But what can he do?

He’ll just stare at the stars until he drifts off to sleep.

Maybe things will be different in the morning.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

chapter one | m.list | chapter three

[fayes-fics]

Comfort

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict comforts his new wife when her courses arrive…

Warnings: mentions of menstruation, non graphic references to period blood. Otherwise, just the fluffiest of fluff.

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Thanks to @colettebronte for help with the title. Request fill for anon HERE, where Benedict comforts his new wife when her period arrives overnight. This might be the most saccharine-sweet fluff I have ever written. For my usual smut peeps… err, apologies? Normal filth will resume shortly, I'm sure lol. <3

You stir from your slumber to a dreaded dampness you know far too well. 

Oh dear heavens, no! 

Overnight, your courses have arrived without warning. Or perhaps, with hindsight, there were some signs, but you had assigned blame for the symptoms elsewhere. You had put your tiredness down to the exhaustive social whirlwind of your first ball as a Bridgerton. The dull lower back pain you had felt merely due to traipsing around the extensive grounds the host was keen to show off to all and sundry.

For a few moments, you lay staring frettingly at the ceiling, unsure what to do. You can tell that your nightgown and, likely, the bedsheets will carry evidence of this unwanted early arrival. You had plans to inform your lady's maids to prepare the following night. Trust your body to be at least a day early when you least need it. 

Next to you, your new husband of just fourteen days, Benedict Bridgerton, is sleeping soundly. You roll your head to look briefly at his handsome face in repose on the adjacent pillow, then bite your lip in anxiety.

Oh god, he cannot see this!! He simply cannot! What am I to do?!?

____

You had been taught a few things in the run-up to marriage by your Mama. One of them was never to mention or address the “monthly visitor” to your husband—it was a matter for you and your maids to deal with. On the nights you were “visited”, you were strongly counselled to sleep in your room rather than with your husband so he would not have to deal with “such unpleasantness”. This may have been logical advice for a regular wife of the Ton, but your mother probably never considered how non-traditional your husband would turn out to be. 

Hours after your nuptials, upon arrival at your new marital home - a wonderful brick townhouse just a few streets from Bridgerton House - you had politely inquired where your bedchamber was. At first, he laughed, then frowned when he realised you were serious. It turned out he had not made plans for, or indeed, set up a room for you separate from his.

“We are husband and wife now. We shall sleep together,” he explained, drawing you into his arms and planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

“But… every night?” you stuttered, still grappling with what exactly was expected of you as a wife.

“Yes darling,” he confirmed, still sounding vaguely bemused.

____

Since that day, you have shared a bed every night, which has been delightful for so many reasons. Indeed, you have never slept better in your life than in the two weeks since your wedding, falling asleep securely in his arms and awakening to his handsome, smiling face…

…Well, that is until now.

Now, you have no earthly idea what to do. 

You surmise it must be early, dawn breaking, a grey, feeble light peeking around the top of the heavy velvet drape curtains over the windows. Barely enough to see shapes and rough outlines as your eyes adjust. Not wanting to awaken Benedict by igniting a candle, you gingerly push back the bedspread and slide out as quietly as possible. In the mirror across the room, you catch sight of a scarlet bloom, visible even in this low light, so stark against your white cotton nightgown. Turning back around, your fears are fully realised when you see a mirror imprint left upon the sheet where you slept.

Horrified, you fly into a flurry of movements. Wanting to hide both your nightgown and the sheets you have sullied, albeit unintentionally. You slip as silently as you are able to the linen supplies cupboard and gather terrycloths designed for bathing. One, you wrap around yourself; another two, you decide to place upon the bed, hoping it will conceal the stain until your husband leaves the bedroom.  

You cannot wait to bathe but know that running a bath would surely awaken Benedict, the noise of water being poured into the echoey copper, even if across the hallway, being bound to rouse him.

Once back next to your side of the bed, you push the covers towards the middle and start to pull at the edge of the undersheet, hoping to slide a cloth under the stain and one atop, to stop the evidence from spreading. You glance furtively at your husband as you work, who unfortunately is turned onto his side facing towards you, as he often is when you awaken. 

In all heavens, could you not turn the other way just for once, my love? 

You move as stealthily as you can, so very keen to be unnoticed. The most challenging part is trying to wedge a cloth underneath, the sheet pulled taut by your husband's weight pinning down the other side. Just as you are fighting with both hands shoved far under the sullied sheet, you hear a sudden sharp intake of breath.

Oh no! He is awake.

His eyes fly open, and he squints as he takes in the sight before him. Then, a frown passes over his features.

“What on earth are you doing, my love?” his voice is deep and rough with sleep.

You whip your hands out from under the sheet, belatedly realising you are also muttering a repeated “no no, no no” under your breath as you attempt to reach for the upper cover and hide what has happened, but it is just out of reach, kneeling as you are beside the bed.

“Darling,” he sits up slightly, rubbing his eyes, obviously thrown off by your agitated state. “Please, whatever is the matter??” his tone rising in volume and concern.

Your eyeline falls reflexively upon what you are trying to conceal on the bedsheets, and his tracks yours. Unable to handle your embarrassment, you bury your head in your hands and slump backwards onto your heels, certain this will be repulsive to him.

“I am so sorry, husband; I was not expecting this to happen today; please forgive me,” you mutter defeatedly behind your hands, ashamed.

You are expecting a noise of derision or disgust. What you do not expect is a chuckle and then a large, warm hand brushing your shoulder.

“Darling, please get up off the floor,” his ask caring, no rebuke to be heard.

Your head slowly tilts up, and to your shock, he is leaning over onto your side of the bed, not far above the stain, and is observing you mildly befuddled benevolence.

“But, I…” you trail off, even as he reaches for your hand.

“It is fine,” he cuts in, squeezing reassuringly with his fingers. “You are a woman. Such things happen. There is no need for shame,” his eyes are soft with understanding. “I do have sisters, you know,” he adds with a sanguine laugh, a shorthand to explain his knowledge of your situation.

Your mouth falls open a fraction, completely taken aback by his affable, almost nonchalant reaction; it is very different from what your Mama taught you to expect. While you flounder in surprise, he rolls away and gets out of bed, padding around to your side, crouching next to you and drawing you into his arms.

“You… you are not repulsed?” you stutter as you recover, your brow creasing.

“Of course not, my love. It is perfectly natural, and there is nothing about you or your body that repulses me,” he assures, kissing your cheek. “In fact, it is very much the opposite,” his tone sincere and soothing.

You get lost in his hazy eyes and gentle smile, accepting his doting kisses that make you feel warm from head to toe. It is then he looks down and spies the bathing cloth you have swaddled yourself in from the waist down.

“I assume your nightgown is in a similar state? And that you would like to get clean?” he guesses empathetically as you nod demurely. “Then I shall summon the staff to run you a bath,” he hums, delicately brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen askew in your scrambling efforts.

“Thank you, Benedict, so very much” you exhale, relieved and still slightly unmoored by his reaction.

His face breaks into that crooked smile that makes butterflies flutter under your ribs. 

“Please, my love, it is literally nothing. We have promised ourselves to each other for life. I expect to see this many more times,” he explains calmly as he rings a bell to summon his butler and presently provides instructions for a warm bath to be drawn and the bedding to be changed by the maids.

“You do not wish for me to sleep elsewhere when I am so afflicted?” you check as soon as you are alone again.

He chuckles as he did before. “Whatever for? You are my wife. I want you beside me all the time. It matters not to me if you have your courses. I still wish to fall asleep with you in my arms.” His sweet sincerity makes your heart skip a beat as he nuzzles your temple. “Although it has been a few short days since our wedding, I have rather gotten used to you being beside me. I cannot sleep soundly without you, my love. Nor would I want to try. We shall share our bed every night,” he adds solemnly.

“But, what if one of us is sick?” you inquire as he helps you to stand up from the floor, pulling you into his arms.

“‘Tis no bother. We shall surely both contract the same, seeing as we reside under the same roof; at least we can suffer in company,” he jests warmly into your ear as his hands rub your lumbar spine with a pattern that soothes the ache you feel there.

“What if you must travel for your art?” you challenge.

“I would be heartbroken if you did not come with me,” he volleys back with a playful pout that you can't help but giggle at.

“What if one day we have a child, and they will not rest without their mother?” your question is almost timid, knowing there is a bloom on your cheeks at the very thought.

He cups your jaw gently and tilts your face to look up into his. His mien is so devoted that the air is stolen from your lungs. 

“Then they shall simply sleep between us, my love. It will be my child, too. You will not be alone. Not when you have your monthly courses and not in the raising of our children. Of that, I promise,” his cadence is lilting and ardent.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you breathe shakily, scarcely able to believe that the man you married is nothing like how your mother had warned. It makes you feel so grateful you cannot stop your emotions, heightened at this time of the month, from bubbling over.

A large, warm thumb blots the tears that gather at the corner of your eyes without comment; he just accepts your state, bussing a kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you, y/n,” he breathes, warm air gusting over your skin.

“I love you too, Benedict,” your reply muffled into his neck as you mould into his strong embrace, remaining there until a lady’s maid taps on the door to convey that your bath is ready.

And true to his word, over the years, you are never a night without your husband. Through many monthly courses, through sickness and health, through children and even grandchildren. It is always his face you see just before your eyes droop closed and the moment they flutter open again. Your safe space. Your comfort. 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb