#and nowhere around is open this time of night

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ I’ll spend forever convincing you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men planning a special date after not seeing you for a long time

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The hum of the engine is the only sound filling the quiet night air as Sylus straddles his motorcycle. You’re still rubbing sleep from your eyes, standing on the pavement in mismatched shoes, your pajama shorts and his oversized hoodie, blinking at him in confusion.

"Get on," he says, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

You cross your arms, raising a skeptical brow. "Are you kidnapping me?"

Sylus chuckles, reaching out to tug you closer by your wrist. His grip is warm, calloused, familiar. "Haven't had much time together lately, so I figured we'd fix that. Midnight road trip. Just you, me, and the open road."

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip. He always had a way of making things sound effortlessly exciting. Still, you narrow your eyes at him. "And where exactly are we going?"

He pulls a folded map from his jacket pocket and hands it to you. "Wherever you want."

You glance between him and the map, before dramatically closing your eyes and jabbing your finger onto a random spot. Peeking at the location, you snort. "We're gonna end up in the middle of nowhere, you know."

"Even better," he says, already revving the engine. "Now get on before I throw you over my shoulder."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you slip onto the bike behind him, arms automatically wrapping around his torso. The scent of his leather jacket and that faint mix of sandalwood and something unmistakably him fills your senses as he accelerates down the empty road. The world around you blurs, the streetlights turning into streaks of gold, the wind whipping through your hair.

At first, you rest your cheek against his back, just feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body beneath your hands. Then, as the city fades behind you, you lift your head, taking in the vast, open road stretching endlessly before you.

"Feeling alive yet?" Sylus shouts over the wind.

You grin, squeezing him tighter. "You wish. Try harder."

He laughs, deep and rich, before suddenly accelerating. You yelp, but it's drowned in laughter as the bike surges forward, the thrill of speed sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

As you ride through the night, he occasionally glances back at you, ruby eyes flickering with something softer, more content. And in those moments, you know—he’s not just enjoying the ride, he’s enjoying you, your presence, your laughter, the way you lean into him like you belong there.

After miles of roads and stolen kisses at red lights, you finally arrive at your random, nowhere destination—a quiet stretch of land with an open sky scattered with stars. Sylus kills the engine, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, breathing in the stillness of the night.

You slide off the bike, stretching your legs. "Well, this is... remote."

Sylus only smirks and pulls you into his chest. "Wasn't about the destination anyway," he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your temple.

You scoff but let yourself sink into his warmth. "So what now?"

He tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk. "Now? We enjoy the night. And maybe—just maybe—you admit this was a great idea."

You huff, but the fondness in your gaze betrays you. "Fine. But next time, I'm driving."

His laugh echoes under the starlit sky, deep and full of love. 

୨ৎ── . Zayne

The front door clicks open softly, and you barely stir under the warm blankets. You know it’s Zayne before you even open your eyes—the faint scent of antiseptic and the quiet, measured footsteps are enough to tell you he’s finally home.

He’s late again. Too many shifts, too little time together.

You hear him sigh as he kicks off his shoes, but before he can crawl into bed beside you, you turn over, blinking sleepily at him. “You look exhausted.”

Zayne freezes, caught in the act of peeling off his jacket. His sharp green eyes soften when they meet yours, and for a moment, he just stares. Then, he exhales a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always catch me.”

You smirk, stretching lazily. “Maybe because you’re terrible at sneaking in.”

He grins, but instead of climbing into bed, he tugs at your hand, coaxing you up. “Come on.”

You groan dramatically. “Zayne, it’s past midnight. Where are we going?”

“To the kitchen.” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “We’re having breakfast.”

You blink at him. “Now?”

“Now.” He tugs you up more insistently. “We haven’t had time together lately. Let’s change that.”

Your lips part in surprise, but the way he’s looking at you—so hopeful, so needing you—makes it impossible to refuse. With a resigned sigh, you let him pull you out of bed, following him to the kitchen.

The kitchen is bathed in a warm, golden glow from the dim overhead lights. Zayne rolls up his sleeves and grabs ingredients while you sit on the counter, watching him with an amused smile.

“So, Doctor, what’s on the menu?” you tease.

He shoots you a playful glare as he sets down a carton of eggs. “You’re the one who wanted waffles the other day.”

“I didn’t say I wanted them at midnight.”

“Too late. You’re getting waffles.” He tosses you a whisk, and you barely catch it in time. “And pancakes.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but start mixing the batter anyway. Zayne may be tired, but right now, he looks more at peace than he has in days. His usual aloofness melts away as he works beside you, measuring, stirring, stealing kisses and little glances your way.

When the first pancake is ready, you grab a plate and start decorating it just for him. You drizzle syrup in the shape of a heart and add fresh berries around the edges. With a proud smirk, you slide the plate toward him. “For you. A masterpiece.”

Zayne leans on the counter, inspecting it with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Hmm… artistic. A bit crooked, though.”

“Oh, shut up. Yours better be good.”

He smirks before taking his time plating your waffle. When he finally slides it over to you, you nearly choke on laughter. He’s drizzled chocolate sauce in what’s supposed to be a smiley face, but it looks more like a deformed ghost.

“What—what is that?” you wheeze.

“It’s you,” he deadpans. “Beautiful.”

When everything is ready, you two sit down at the kitchen table. As you take your first bite, you hum in approval. “Okay, maybe midnight breakfast was a good idea.”

“Told you.”

You glance at him, finding him already looking at you. The tired lines around his eyes don’t look so heavy anymore. Instead, there’s something else—something warm, content.

You nudge his foot under the table. “You should sleep after this.”

Zayne sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches over, his fingers brushing against yours. “I will.” Then, quieter, “Thank you for staying up with me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

And in the quiet of your little kitchen, under the glow of soft lights and the scent of fresh waffles, you both finally breathe.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

The salty ocean breeze kisses your skin as you step onto the warm sand, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore is soothing, but your mind is fixated on something else—the note in your hands.

"If you want to find me, follow the clues. I promise the treasure at the end is worth it."

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. Rafayel—always the dramatic romantic. It had been a while since you two had spent proper time together, both of you caught up in your own worlds. But instead of simply asking for a date, your ridiculous, artistic boyfriend had decided to set up a full treasure hunt.

Shaking your head in amusement, you glance down at the sand near your feet, where a small arrow is drawn, pointing toward the rocky cove in the distance.

“Alright, Captain Rafayel,” you murmur to yourself, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You follow the arrow, the soft grains of sand shifting beneath your feet, until you reach a cluster of large rocks. Nestled between them, half-buried in the sand, is a small glass bottle with another note inside.

Unrolling it, you read:

"Remember where we watched the stars that night? I left something for you there."

Your heart stutters at the memory—the two of you lying on a blanket under the night sky, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your arm as he murmured about stars.

With a renewed sense of excitement, you make your way to that very spot, just beyond the dunes. And waiting there, tucked beneath a seashell, is a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny charm—a crescent moon. A quiet gasp leaves your lips as you pick it up, your fingers brushing over the cool metal.

Another note sits beneath it:

"A small piece of the night sky for my star. Keep going."

You swallow against the warmth blooming in your chest, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist before continuing.

The next clue leads you to a weathered wooden pier, where you find a small box of your favorite chocolates wrapped in twine. Then, to the tide pools, where another note is hidden inside a sketchbook, filled with unfinished doodles of you—your laughter, your scowls, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.

By the time you reach the final clue, your heart is racing.

The last note simply says:

"Turn around."

You spin on your heel, and there he is. Rafayel, standing a few feet away, watching you with that familiar smirk—but there's something softer beneath it, something tender. The setting sun catches in his eyes, making them glow like embers, and his hair is tousled slightly by the wind.

“Well?” he drawls, spreading his arms lazily. “Did I impress you?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you march straight toward him and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He stiffens in surprise for only a second before he melts into you, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“You absolute idiot,” you murmur against his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

His chest rumbles with a quiet laugh as he presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “I wanted to.” He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. “We haven’t had enough time together lately. Thought I’d remind you how much I love you.”

Your breath catches at the quiet sincerity in his voice. For all his teasing and confidence, Rafayel loves deeply—intensely.

You lift your wrist, showing off the bracelet with a small smirk. “You’re just trying to bribe me with gifts.”

He huffs a laugh but tugs you even closer. “Maybe.” Then, lowering his voice, “Did it work?”

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe I need a little more convincing.”

His lips twitch before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, the taste of the ocean and him stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his voice a whisper against your skin.

“I’ll spend forever convincing you.”

୨ৎ── . Caleb

The scent of summer grass and candle wax lingers in the air as you lie back on the soft blanket, gazing up at the endless stretch of stars above you. The night is quiet, except for the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. And beside you—so close that his warmth seeps into your skin—is Caleb.

Lately, your time together had been slipping through your fingers, stolen away by busy schedules and fleeting moments. But tonight, Caleb had shown up at your door, eyes burning with quiet determination, holding a basket in one hand and a thick blanket in the other.

"No excuses," he had said before you could even ask what was going on. "I’m taking you somewhere."

You had rolled your eyes, but your heart had betrayed you, skipping a beat at the sheer intensity in his gaze. And now, here you were—miles away from the city, surrounded by nothing but open fields and a sky so vast it made you feel weightless.

"You’re quiet," Caleb murmurs beside you, his deep voice laced with something softer than usual. He props himself up on one elbow, watching you instead of the stars.

You let out a small hum. "Just enjoying the view."

He smirks. "I hope you mean the sky and not me."

You turn your head to meet his gaze, the glow of the lantern casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. His purple eyes, always so intense, hold an unreadable expression.

"Who says I wasn’t talking about you?" you tease.

His smirk falters for a fraction of a second before he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep saying things like that, and I might just have to keep you here forever."

"Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?"

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing slow circles against your wrist. His possessiveness—the way he always needs to be touching you, keeping you close—would have annoyed you if it didn’t feel so achingly sincere.

"You work too hard," he murmurs against your skin. "I wanted to steal you away for a little while."

You sigh, letting your fingers tangle in his hair, feeling the way his body relaxes slightly under your touch. "You make it sound like I’m the only one who’s been busy."

He hums, conceding the point. "Maybe. But I miss you."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his voice. You shift onto your side, reaching up to brush your fingers against his jaw. "I’m right here, Caleb."

His gaze darkens slightly, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours—slow and deep, like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve been apart. When he finally pulls away, his breath is warm against your cheek.

"You taste like strawberries," he mutters, and you laugh softly, nudging the fruit bowl between you two. "Would’ve been weird if I didn’t."

Caleb rolls his eyes but tugs you closer, your body fitting against his like you belong there. With one arm draped around your waist, he tilts his head back toward the sky. "Alright, since we’re technically stargazing, tell me—what’s your favourite constellation?"

You smile, pointing at a cluster of stars. "That one. Because it looks like a cat."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not a real constellation."

"Sure it is. I just discovered it."

Caleb huffs a laugh, shaking his head before tightening his grip around you. "Fine, then from now on that one is my favourite constellation too.”

୨ৎ── . Xavier

The soft hum of whispered conversations and the scent of old books fills the air as you step into the library, your fingers laced with Xavier’s. The warm lighting casts a golden glow over the endless rows of bookshelves, making everything feel timeless—quiet, intimate.

You glance up at him, finding his gaze already on you. His big blue eyes are unreadable, but you catch the slight quirk of his lips—the rare kind, the one that means he’s up to something.

“You’re staring,” you tease, nudging him playfully.

“You’re worth staring at,” he says simply, like it’s a fact, like it’s as natural as breathing.

You roll your eyes, but your stomach still flutters. Even after all this time, he gets to you so easily.

“So,” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck, “why a library date?”

Xavier’s grip on your hand tightens slightly as he tugs you further inside, leading you between the towering bookshelves. “We haven’t spent much time together lately,” he says, voice calm but certain. “I figured this would be quiet. Just us.”

You soften at his words. He’s always like this—aloof on the surface, but his love sneaks up on you in quiet, thoughtful ways.

“Alright,” you hum, stopping in an aisle filled with well-worn classics. “How are we doing this?”

He tilts his head slightly, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “We pick books for each other,” he says, reaching for a worn, leather-bound book. “One that reminds us of the other.”

You raise a brow. “That’s dangerous territory, Xavier. What if I give you something ridiculous?”

His lips twitch. “Then I’ll read it. No complaints.”

Your smirk widens. “Even if it’s a trashy romance?”

His eyes flicker with amusement. “Especially then.”

You hum in approval before slipping away to find his book, scanning the shelves as he does the same. When you return, you place your choice in his hands: a poetry book filled with love letters written in secret.

Xavier glances at the title, then at you. “Subtle.”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “I just think you’d like it.”

His gaze lingers for a second too long before he hands you his choice: a novel about a sharp-tongued heroine who drives the stoic hero absolutely insane.

You snort, flipping through the pages. “Oh, this is on purpose.”

His smirk is barely there, but you see it. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Shaking your head, you both settle into a cozy corner of the library, sinking into the soft cushions. It’s comfortable—him next to you, the quiet rustling of pages, the occasional shared glance when one of you reads something interesting.

Then, after a few minutes, Xavier pulls something from his pocket—a small stack of sticky notes.

You raise a brow. “Planning to vandalize the library?”

“Not vandalizing,” he corrects smoothly, peeling one off and scribbling something down. “Leaving something behind.”

He sticks the note inside a random book before handing you the pad. “Your turn.”

You open the book he left his note in, curiosity getting the best of you.

“If you’re reading this, I hope you find what you’re looking for. -X”

You press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Typical Xavier—cool, distant, but just poetic enough to make your heart ache.

Shaking your head, you write your own note and tuck it into another book.

“Love is like a good book—you never know how much it’ll change you until you’re deep in it. -X’s annoyed girlfriend”

Xavier peeks at it, then exhales a quiet chuckle. “Annoyed?”

You smirk. “Obviously.”

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the sticky notes from your hand, his touch lingering longer than necessary. Then, in a single fluid movement, he leans in, lips ghosting against your ear.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, just for you.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly to meet his eyes. Even in the silence of the library, Xavier always finds a way to make you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

You glance at the books surrounding you, the little notes left behind for strangers to find, the weight of his arm resting against yours.

“I think,” you say softly, “this might be my new favorite kind of date.”

Xavier just smiles, turning back to his book. But his fingers never let go of yours.

[elryuse]

Pt. 9 Fuck Me Like U Mean It

BABEL'S CHAINS MASTERLIST : HERE

Your POV

Morning Possessiveness

The first thing you felt was warmth.

Soft, steady breathing tickled your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open, the dim morning light slipping through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room.

Karina.

Her face was nestled against your chest, her body pressed closely to yours, her arms locked tightly around you like a vice.

Her long hair cascaded over her pillow, strands lightly tickling your chin.

For a moment, you just stared.

You had never seen her like this before—completely at ease, vulnerable in her sleep, her usual guarded expression nowhere in sight.

The events of last night came flooding back.

The drunken call. The desperation in her voice. The way she dragged you into her room, kissing you with reckless abandon. The way she begged you not to leave.

Your heart pounded at the memory.

You had stayed.

And now, waking up beside her, you weren’t sure what came next.

You shifted slightly, trying to sit up—

But the moment you moved, Karina’s arms tightened around you.

A small, muffled growl vibrated against your chest.

“…Don’t.”

Her voice was hoarse, barely awake, but firm.

You stilled.

“…Karina?”

Her grip tightened.

“Stay.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the same desperation as last night.

She buried her face deeper against your chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

“I don’t care what time it is,” she mumbled sleepily. “Just… don’t go yet.”

Your heart ached.

You had never heard her sound so fragile before.

“…Alright,” you murmured, relaxing back onto the bed.

A content sigh left Karina’s lips as she snuggled closer, her body molding perfectly against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Just the sound of steady breathing.

The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

The way her warmth seeped into you, making it impossible to think about anything other than her.

Minutes stretched into an hour.

You weren’t sure when exactly Karina drifted back to sleep, but eventually, she stirred.

Her eyelashes fluttered slightly before her eyes cracked open.

She blinked up at you groggily, her expression still hazy with sleep.

“…You’re still here?”

You chuckled. “You wouldn’t let me leave.”

A faint blush spread across her cheeks as she buried her face back into your chest.

“…Shut up.”

You smirked, brushing a hand through her messy hair.

She let out a small, content sigh at the motion, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against your arm.

For a moment, it felt like this was normal.

Like this was something you did every morning.

Waking up beside her. Holding her like this.

But the reality of what had happened last night lingered between you both.

Eventually, Karina pulled back slightly, propping herself up on one elbow.

Her eyes met yours.

“…So,” she murmured. “What happens now?”

You swallowed hard.

That was the question, wasn’t it?

Last night, she had let down her walls.

But what about now?

Now that the morning had come—now that the alcohol had worn off—did she regret it?

“…Do you regret it?” you asked cautiously.

Karina’s gaze softened.

“…No.”

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt.

“But I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

She let out a small, bitter laugh.

“You know what.”

Your throat tightened.

She was scared of messing up again.

Scared of pushing you away.

Scared of the fact that she wants you, but doesn’t know how to handle it.

You reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I meant what I said last night,” you murmured. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Karina’s breath hitched.

Her eyes searched yours, as if trying to find any sign of hesitation.

But you weren’t hesitating.

Not anymore.

“…Okay,” she whispered.

It wasn’t a promise.

It wasn’t a confession.

But it was something.

A start

An Interruption Just as the moment lingered between you both, Karina’s phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

She groaned, rolling over to grab it.

You caught a glimpse of the caller ID—Winter.

Karina hesitated, then answered.

“…What do you want?”

Even half-asleep, she still managed to sound annoyed.

From the other end, Winter’s voice was unmistakable.

[“Ohhh, so he’s still there, huh?”]

Karina’s eyes widened slightly before she glared at the phone.

“…Shut up.”

You smirked, already knowing where this was going.

Winter’s teasing voice continued.

[“Did you confess your undying love yet, or are you still in denial?”]

Karina groaned, shoving a pillow over her face.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter.

“…I hate you,” Karina muttered into the pillow.

Winter’s laughter rang through the phone.

[“Nah, you love me. But not as much as him, apparently.”]

You watched as Karina’s face turned bright red.

“…I’m hanging up.”

[“Tell lover boy I said hi.”]

Click.

Karina groaned again, tossing her phone onto the bed.

You chuckled. “So… they know?”

She shot you a glare.

“Of course, they know. Winter saw how I looked at you ages ago.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“How did you look at me?”

Karina’s face turned even redder.

She rolled over, shoving her face into the pillow again.

“…Shut up.”

You couldn’t stop smiling.

She was adorable.

And despite everything, despite all the complications, one thing was clear—

Karina wanted you.

And this time, she wasn’t pretending otherwise.

An Uncertain Future

Eventually, you both got up.

Karina lazily dragged herself into the bathroom, muttering something about needing to wash the “stupid blush” off her face.

You took the time to check your phone.

A few messages from Ryujin.

Ryujin: Morning! So… how was last night? 😉 Ryujin: Don’t lie. I know you stayed over. Ryujin: Wanna come over today?

You smiled at the last message.

Ryujin, huh?

Things were about to get even more complicated.

Before you could respond, Karina reappeared, dressed in an oversized hoodie, her hair still damp from the shower.

She crossed her arms, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Who are you smiling at?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Jealous already?”

Karina huffed, looking away.

“…Shut up.”

You chuckled.

Yeah.

Things were definitely getting complicated.

But for the first time—

You weren’t afraid of it.

Because no matter what happened next…

Karina wasn’t letting go.

And neither were you.

The moment you reached ITZY’s apartment, you barely had time to knock before the door swung open.

“FINALLY!”

A blur of energy launched at you.

Yuna.

Before you could react, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, almost knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Yuna—”

“You’re so late!” she whined, squeezing you even tighter. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

From inside, Ryujin’s voice called out lazily.

“He’s like ten minutes late, Yuna.”

“That’s too long!” Yuna shot back, still clinging to you like a koala.

You laughed, reaching up to ruffle her hair.

“Missed me that much?”

She pulled back, pouting. “Of course! You haven’t been hanging out with us lately. And don’t think I don’t know where you were last night.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“…What?”

Yuna grinned mischievously. “You were at aespa’s place, weren’t you?”

Before you could answer, Ryujin appeared at the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.

“More specifically, Karina’s room.”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You guys are stalking me now?”

Ryujin shrugged. “Please. Winter practically broadcasted it.”

Yuna gasped, dramatically covering her mouth. “So it’s true! You did spend the night with Karina?”

Your silence betrayed you.

Ryujin’s smirk widened. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

You groaned. “Can I at least come inside before the interrogation starts?”

Yuna giggled, finally letting go of you, and Ryujin stepped aside, motioning for you to enter.

“Welcome back, lover boy.”

Settling In, But Not Really

You had barely sat down on the couch when Yuna flopped beside you, resting her head on your shoulder.

Ryujin sat across from you, her sharp eyes locked onto you like she was analyzing your every move.

“So,” she started. “What really happened last night?”

You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“Nothing happened.”

Yuna gasped dramatically again. “LIES.”

Ryujin smirked. “Be honest. Did Karina confess? Did she kiss you?”

Your face burned.

That was way too specific.

“…Why do you care?”

Yuna nudged you with her elbow, grinning. “Because we care about you.”

Ryujin nodded. “Exactly. You’ve been so hung up on Karina for so long. And now, suddenly, you’re spending the night in her room? Something changed.”

You hesitated.

They weren’t wrong.

Something had changed.

Karina was opening up in a way she never had before. She was letting you see her vulnerability, her fears, her possessiveness.

And you—

You weren’t running away.

“…It’s complicated,” you finally said.

Ryujin raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t all relationships?”

Yuna pouted. “So you do like her?”

You hesitated.

Did you?

Of course, you did.

You always had.

But saying it out loud—

“…I don’t know,” you admitted.

Ryujin leaned back, watching you carefully.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You’re scared.”

Your jaw tensed.

She always saw through you so easily.

“…Maybe.”

Yuna groaned. “Ugh! Why are boys so stupid? If you like her, tell her! If she likes you back, be with her!”

Ryujin chuckled. “It’s not that simple, Yuna.”

Yuna huffed, crossing her arms. “It should be.”

You smiled a little.

Maybe in a perfect world.

But in your world—

Things were never that easy.

The conversation eventually drifted to other things—memories, inside jokes, playful bickering.

For the first time in a while, you felt at home.

Ryujin stole the remote from Yuna. Yuna dramatically whined and sprawled across your lap. You barely managed to push her off before she started tickling you.

Everything was exactly how it used to be.

And yet—

Something was different.

The way Ryujin’s eyes lingered on you longer than before. The way Yuna clung to you, her touch more possessive than playful. The way you felt—torn between the past and the present.

Ryujin smirked suddenly. “So, when are you seeing Karina again?”

You sighed. “You really wanna talk about this, huh?”

Yuna giggled. “Of course! We need to know if we should be jealous~”

You choked on your drink. “What?!”

Ryujin rolled her eyes. “She’s kidding. Mostly.”

Yuna pouted. “Hey, I’m partially serious!”

You stared at her.

She wasn’t joking.

Not entirely.

Your heart pounded.

“…Yuna.”

She stuck her tongue out playfully but didn’t deny anything.

Ryujin watched the interaction closely, her usual teasing smirk faltering slightly.

Something about the mood shifted.

It wasn’t just you who noticed things changing.

They did, too.

Later that night, Ryujin found you alone on the balcony.

She leaned against the railing beside you, looking out at the city lights.

“…You okay?”

You exhaled. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Ryujin hummed. “About Karina?”

You smiled wryly. “About everything.”

She nodded.

A comfortable silence settled between you.

Then—

“Do you ever think about us?”

You turned to her, surprised.

She wasn’t looking at you.

Just staring out at the skyline.

Your heart tightened.

“…Yeah.”

Ryujin exhaled softly. “Me too.”

Another silence.

This one heavier.

“…Do you regret anything?” you asked.

Ryujin finally looked at you.

Her expression unreadable.

“…Sometimes.”

Your breath caught.

She wasn’t one to be vulnerable easily.

But tonight—

She was letting you in.

Just like Karina had.

And suddenly, you felt like you were standing at a crossroads.

The past. The present. The girls who once meant everything. The girl who was starting to mean everything.

And you—

Stuck in between.

Not knowing which path to take.

The next morning, a text lit up your phone.

Karina: Are you free today?

Your heart pounded.

You weren’t sure what you were doing.

But one thing was clear—

This wasn’t just about Karina anymore.

This was about all of them.

And sooner or later—

You’d have to choose.

You stood outside aespa’s apartment, staring at the door.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, an uneasy mix of anticipation and confusion twisting inside you.

Karina had texted you—short and simple.

Karina: Are you free today?

And now, here you were.

Taking a breath, you knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, and before you could react—

A pair of arms wrapped tightly around you.

Karina.

She pressed herself into you, holding on as if she was afraid you’d slip away.

“Hey,” you murmured, surprised.

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Just held you.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to do.

Then—

You hugged her back.

Her body relaxed slightly, but her grip remained firm.

Like she needed this.

Like she needed you.

When she finally pulled away, her face was unreadable.

You studied her, trying to figure out what she was thinking, but Karina was good at hiding things.

Too good.

Before you could say anything, a voice called from inside.

“Well, well, look who’s back.”

You turned to see Winter leaning against the couch, arms crossed, smirking.

Giselle sat beside her, grinning knowingly.

Ningning peeked over the back of the couch, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

“Welcome home, lover boy,” she teased.

You groaned. “Not you guys, too.”

Winter chuckled. “You did spend the night here. The entire night.”

Giselle smirked. “It’s only natural we ask questions.”

Karina shot them a glare. “Stop teasing.”

But her ears were turning red.

You sighed. “Can I at least sit down before the interrogation starts?”

Giselle patted the empty space beside her. “Go ahead. Make yourself comfortable.”

Karina tugged you toward the couch before you could react, practically shoving you down beside her.

The other girls exchanged knowing glances but said nothing.

For now.

A Comfortable Chaos

Spending time with aespa felt different than before.

There was an ease to it, a familiarity you hadn’t realized you missed.

Giselle teased you relentlessly, Winter made sarcastic remarks, and Ningning giggled at everything.

But Karina—

Karina was different.

She barely left your side.

Every time you moved, she moved with you.

Her hand brushed against yours more times than you could count.

Her eyes lingered on you, soft and warm.

And when she laughed—

God, you had missed that sound.

At one point, Ningning leaned close and whispered, “She’s different when you’re around, you know.”

You turned to her, surprised.

“She likes you,” Ningning continued, grinning. “Like, really likes you.”

Your stomach flipped.

You glanced at Karina—who was currently trying (and failing) to swat away Winter’s teasing.

She caught you staring.

And for the briefest moment—

Her expression softened.

Then she quickly looked away, pretending to be annoyed at Winter.

But you saw it.

The way her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach for you. The way she bit her lip to hide her smile. The way her entire body leaned toward yours without her realizing it.

She did like you.

And that scared you more than anything.

Because you weren’t sure if you were ready to accept it.

Or worse—

If you were ready to hurt her again.

A Moment Alone Eventually, the other girls left the room, giving you and Karina some space.

You sat in silence for a while, neither of you knowing what to say.

Then—

“I missed you,” Karina whispered.

Your chest tightened.

“…I missed you too.”

She looked up at you, searching your face for something.

Then, hesitantly—

She reached for your hand.

Her fingers curled around yours, warm and gentle.

“Are you…” she hesitated. “Are you seeing anyone else?”

Your breath caught.

You thought about Ryujin. About Yuna. About the way their eyes lingered, the way their touches felt different lately.

But in this moment—

None of them mattered.

Only Karina.

“…No,” you admitted.

She exhaled, relieved.

Then—

She smiled.

A soft, genuine smile that made your heart ache.

“Good,” she murmured.

Then, without another word—

She rested her head against your shoulder.

And for the first time in a long time—

You let yourself enjoy the moment.

Even if you knew it wouldn’t last.

Even if you knew this was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

Because right now—

Karina was in your arms.

And that was enough.

For now.

You and Karina sat close on the couch, her head still resting against your shoulder.

For the first time in a long while, things felt calm.

The conversation between you two was soft, almost hesitant.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Karina murmured, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your palm.

“About what?”

“You.”

Your breath hitched.

She didn’t look at you, but you could feel her grip on your hand tighten slightly.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” she admitted. “I can’t.”

A lump formed in your throat.

Before you could respond—

Your phone rang.

You glanced down at the screen.

Ryujin.

You hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Before Ryujin could even speak—

Karina suddenly reached over and snatched the phone from your hands.

Your eyes widened. “Karina—”

She ended the call.

Your heart dropped. “What are you doing?”

Karina turned to you, her eyes dark with something unreadable.

Possessive.

Desperate.

“She doesn’t need you right now,” Karina whispered. “I do.”

You swallowed hard.

Something about the way she said it sent chills down your spine.

Karina placed your phone face-down on the table, as if making sure you wouldn’t touch it.

You stared at her, still processing what just happened.

“You can’t just end my calls like that,” you said, voice calm but firm.

Karina frowned, almost pouting.

“Why not?” she muttered.

“Because it’s not okay, Karina. That was Ryujin—”

Her expression darkened at the mention of Ryujin’s name.

“She can wait,” she said coldly.

Your chest tightened.

You had seen Karina jealous before.

But this—

This was different.

There was an obsession in her eyes.

A need for control.

And it scared you.

“…Karina,” you said carefully, watching her reaction. “You’re acting strange.”

She tilted her head, smiling sweetly.

“Am I?”

You nodded.

“I just don’t like sharing,” she whispered.

Then—

She leaned in.

Her lips ghosted over your jawline, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched. “Karina—”

“You belong to me, don’t you?” she whispered.

You felt trapped.

Cornered.

Her fingers curled into your shirt, gripping tightly as if she was afraid you’d disappear.

She wasn’t asking.

She was stating.

And deep down—

You weren’t sure if you had the strength to deny her.

A Dangerous Obsession

Your breath hitched as Karina leaned in, her warm lips pressing against yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

Her hands curled into your shirt, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as if she was afraid you’d slip away.

Your mind screamed at you to stop.

To push her away.

To tell her that what she was doing wasn’t right.

But your body—

Your body didn’t listen.

She pulled away slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breath warm against your lips.

“Focus on me,” she whispered. “Just me.”

She reached over and grabbed your phone—

Then threw it across the room.

The sound of it hitting the floor echoed in the silence.

Your stomach dropped.

“Karina—what the hell?!” You tried to move, but she tightened her grip around you.

“I don’t want any distractions,” she murmured, her eyes filled with something dark. “Not when you’re with me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest.

This wasn’t just jealousy.

It was something more.

Something dangerous.

“Karina,” you said carefully. “You can’t just—”

She kissed you again, cutting off your words, her hands sliding up your arms, her touch possessive.

“Please,” she whispered against your lips. “Just for today.”

You felt like you were drowning.

Trapped in something you weren’t sure you could escape from.

And the scariest part?

A part of you didn’t want to.

Something’s Wrong

Ryujin furrowed her brows, staring at her phone screen.

The call had ended.

Just like that.

No explanation. No reason. Just a sudden, abrupt disconnection.

She tried calling again.

No answer.

Her fingers tapped impatiently against her thigh as she sat in the ITZY apartment, her mind racing.

She called again.

Still nothing.

She scoffed. “What the hell?”

Yuna, who was sitting beside her, glanced up from her phone. “What’s up?”

Ryujin clenched her jaw. “He’s not picking up.”

Yuna blinked. “Huh? He just texted earlier, right?”

Ryujin nodded. Exactly.

It wasn’t like you to ignore her calls. If you were busy, you’d at least text back.

But this?

This felt wrong.

She gripped her phone tighter and called again.

Voicemail.

Her stomach twisted.

Something wasn’t right.

She tried again.

Nothing.

“…Something’s wrong,” she muttered, standing up abruptly.

Yuna sat up straighter. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Ryujin didn’t answer.

Her heart was pounding now.

A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she stared at the unanswered calls.

Where the hell were you?

Ryujin tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her jaw clenched as she sped through the dimly lit streets. The city lights blurred past her, but her mind was fixated on only one thing—you.

You weren’t answering.

She had called at least ten times, yet every single one went to voicemail.

That wasn’t like you.

Not at all.

A bitter taste formed in her mouth as she replayed the last conversation she had with you. You said you were going to see them—Karina and the rest of AESPA. At first, she thought nothing of it, but now…

Her fingers tightened around the wheel.

The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she became.

The way Karina ended the call so abruptly.

The way you didn’t even get to answer her properly.

The way Karina had always looked at you.

Obsessive. Possessive.

Ryujin had noticed it before, but she never thought much of it. Maybe she was just overthinking things.

But now?

Now, she wasn’t sure.

The rain started drizzling, tapping against the windshield as she pressed harder on the gas.

She didn’t care.

She just needed to see you.

To make sure you were okay.

As she approached AESPA’s apartment building, she parked her car carelessly and jumped out, not even bothering to take an umbrella. The cold wind bit against her skin, but she barely noticed it.

Her heart pounded violently against her chest as she reached the entrance.

She took a deep breath before pressing the buzzer.

Once.

Twice.

No response.

Her patience wore thin. She pressed it again, this time holding onto it longer.

Finally, the door unlocked with a faint click.

Without hesitation, Ryujin stepped inside, her breathing uneven as she made her way toward their unit.

Something wasn’t right.

And she was going to find out exactly what it was.

Ryujin barely took a moment to acknowledge Ningning before cutting straight to the point.

"Where is he?"

Her tone was cold—distant.

Ningning, who had been rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, frowned at the unexpected hostility.

"What do you mean? It’s late—"

"Where is he, Ningning?" Ryujin’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for excuses. Her piercing gaze made Ningning hesitate, shifting uncomfortably.

The younger girl sighed. "He’s in Karina’s room."

Ryujin felt her stomach drop.

Her grip on her phone tightened, her mind racing.

Something about this didn’t sit right with her.

Ningning, noticing her expression, furrowed her brows. "Why are you even here? It’s late, Ryujin. You’re acting weird—"

Ryujin didn’t respond.

Instead, she pushed past Ningning, marching straight toward Karina’s room.

She didn’t care about the consequences.

She needed to see you.

And she needed to see you now.

Ryujin’s footsteps were heavy, her heart pounding violently in her chest as she stormed through the hallway.

Each step closer to Karina’s door made her blood boil hotter.

And then—she heard it.

Muffled noises.

Moans.

"Y/n… Y/n… that feels good."

Ryujin froze, her breath hitching.

Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists.

The anger. The confusion. The betrayal.

It consumed her.

Without another second of hesitation, she shoved the door open with force.

BANG.

The door slammed against the wall.

And what she saw made her stomach churn.

Karina was straddling you.

Her hands gripping your shoulders. Her flushed face inches from yours.

Your hands were on her waist.

Your shirt was half undone.

Karina gasped at the sudden intrusion, her head snapping toward the door.

Ryujin stood there, breathing heavily—her eyes burning with rage.

"What the fuck is this?" Ryujin’s voice was sharp, venomous.

You immediately pushed Karina off you, scrambling to sit up.

"Ryujin, I—"

"Save it." Her jaw tightened as she glared at you.

Karina, still catching her breath, smirked slightly.

"You should knock before coming in, Ryujin."

That smirk. That tone.

It sent Ryujin over the edge.

Her hands trembled. Her body burned with frustration.

"So this is why you didn’t pick up my calls? Because you were too busy fucking around with her?"

You ran a hand through your hair, guilt written all over your face.

"It’s not what it looks like—"

"Oh, it looks pretty damn clear to me." Ryujin scoffed bitterly.

Karina let out a small chuckle, tilting her head as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders possessively.

"He’s mine, Ryujin. He chose me."

Ryujin’s eyes flickered between you and Karina, the weight of the situation settling in.

Her heart sank.

"So that’s it, huh?"

Her voice wavered for the first time.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

The silence was deafening.

Ryujin let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

"You’re fucking unbelievable, Y/n."

She turned around, storming out without another word.

But before she left, she paused in the doorway.

Without turning back, she spoke one last time.

"I hope she’s worth it."

And just like that—she was gone.

Your breath was shaky as you tried to sit up, your mind still processing the look on Ryujin’s face before she stormed out. The guilt gnawed at your chest, but before you could move—

Karina pushed you back down.

Her strength caught you off guard. Her body hovered over yours, her dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous—something possessive.

Your lips parted, ready to protest, but—

Karina’s fingers pressed against your mouth, silencing you.

"Shh…" she whispered, her breath warm against your skin.

You tried to turn your head away, but her grip was firm, refusing to let you escape.

"Don’t speak. Don’t think about her. Just focus on me, Y/n."

Your heart pounded.

This wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t Karina.

At least… not the Karina you used to know.

Her other hand trailed down your chest, her touch light but possessive, as if she was claiming every inch of you.

"The night is still young." She leaned in, her lips ghosting over your ear. "So I want you to continue."

Your breath hitched.

"Forget her, babe."

Her voice dripped with sweetness, yet there was an underlying obsession in her tone.

"You have me now."

Your throat went dry.

This wasn’t about love anymore.

This was control.

Possession.

And no matter how much you wanted to deny it—

You were trapped.

You pushed Karina's hand away, standing up despite her resistance.

"Y/n… don’t go."

Her voice wavered, a mixture of desperation and frustration. But you couldn’t stay.

This was wrong.

You turned away from her, ignoring the sting of guilt in your chest as you walked toward the door.

You had to find Ryujin.

"She’s not even worth it!" Karina’s voice cracked, her frustration spilling out. "She doesn’t love you the way I do!"

You clenched your jaw.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

Karina suddenly grabbed your wrist, her grip tight—almost painful.

"Y/n, don’t leave me for her." Her voice trembled, her dark eyes searching yours. "She’ll never be able to love you the way I do. I need you. Please."

You slowly pulled your hand away.

"I need to fix this." Your voice was firm, but your heart ached seeing the way Karina's expression shattered.

Without another word, you walked out of the room.

Out of her grip.

And out into the night—toward Ryujin.

The Cold Night and Ryujin’s Silence You bolted down the stairs of Aespa’s apartment, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. The winter air bit at your skin, but the cold was nothing compared to the storm raging inside of you.

Ryujin.

She was already getting into her car, her fingers gripping the steering wheel, her eyes fixated on the road ahead. You could see the sharpness in her gaze, the coldness in the way she moved.

She was furious.

You sprinted toward her, desperation clawing at your chest.

"Ryujin, wait!"

She didn’t turn to look at you. Her expression remained unreadable as she reached for the ignition. The engine roared to life, the deep rumble of her sports car filling the silent parking lot.

You stepped in front of the car, hands raised, breath fogging in the icy air.

"Ryujin, please. Just let me explain!"

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

You could see it—the way her jaw clenched, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She was angry. Hurt. Betrayed.

Still, you didn’t move.

Then, she revved the engine.

Vroom.

The sound was deafening, drowning out your voice.

You flinched slightly but held your ground.

"I swear, it wasn’t what you think!" You pleaded, your voice straining against the overwhelming noise.

Vroom. Vroom.

Louder.

Your words were swallowed by the growl of the engine.

"Ryujin… I need—"

Vroom.

"For fuck’s sake, just listen!"

Vroom. Vroom.

She revved again. Louder this time. The engine roared, the vibrations rattling through your chest.

She wasn’t going to let you talk.

You could see the fire in her eyes. The pain. The anger.

She was daring you to move.

She was telling you, without saying a single word, that she was done listening to excuses.

You exhaled sharply, your breath visible in the cold air.

"Ryujin…"

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she cranked up the gas once more, and for a moment, you thought she might actually drive off. Maybe even push past you.

But she didn’t.

She just sat there, watching you with that same icy glare.

Waiting.

You swallowed hard, your fists clenching.

You had to do something. You had to make her listen.

Without thinking, you took a step forward—closer to the driver’s side door.

Ryujin’s foot hovered over the pedal, but she hesitated.

That hesitation was all you needed.

You reached for the door handle and pulled it open before she could react.

She turned to you, eyes burning with fury.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the night like a blade.

You held onto the door, refusing to let her close it.

"I’m not letting you leave like this," you said, breathless. "Not until you hear me out."

She scoffed, looking away. "Why should I? I already know what I saw."

"No, you don’t!" You took another step closer, desperate. "It wasn’t like that, Ryujin. You have to believe me."

She exhaled through her nose, her grip on the wheel tightening. "Oh, really? Because from where I stood, it looked pretty damn clear."

Her voice was filled with venom.

"Karina was all over you, Y/n. I heard everything. I saw everything."

You felt your chest tighten.

"She was drunk, Ryujin. She—"

"And you let her straddle you? You let her touch you?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she quickly masked it with another glare.

You hesitated.

You didn’t know how to explain it.

It did look bad. It sounded bad.

"I pushed her away," you finally said, voice softer. "I told her no."

Ryujin’s expression flickered for a moment.

You saw the slightest hint of hesitation in her eyes.

She wanted to believe you.

She really did.

But the damage was already done.

"I can’t do this, Y/n," she muttered, shaking her head.

You felt your heart sink.

"Ryujin—"

She suddenly reached out, grabbing the collar of your shirt.

She pulled you closer, her face just inches from yours.

"Do you love her?"

The question caught you off guard.

"What?"

Her eyes were searching yours, desperate for an answer.

"Do you love her?" she repeated, her voice quieter now. More fragile.

Your breath hitched.

The truth was… complicated.

But you knew one thing for sure.

"No," you said firmly. "I don’t."

Ryujin’s grip on your shirt loosened.

But she didn’t let go.

She bit her lip, eyes darting away for a moment.

"Then why did you let it happen?" she whispered.

You swallowed hard.

"I didn’t," you insisted. "I stopped it before it went too far."

Ryujin didn’t respond.

For a moment, there was only silence.

The cold wind blew between you, ruffling her hair.

She still looked angry. But there was something else in her expression now.

Something more vulnerable.

"You always say the right things," she finally muttered, looking away. "But I don’t know if I can believe you anymore."

Those words hurt more than anything else.

You felt your chest tighten, your throat clenching.

"Ryujin, please…"

She let out a shaky breath.

Then, without another word—she let go.

She let go of your shirt.

Let go of whatever hope she was holding onto.

And just like that… she turned away.

You watched helplessly as she stepped back into the driver’s seat.

The door slammed shut.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t say anything.

And then—

Vroom.

The sound of the engine roared once more.

You stood there, watching as she shifted into reverse.

The tires screeched slightly as she backed away.

And before you could say anything else—

She was gone.

The red taillights disappeared into the night, leaving you standing alone in the parking lot.

Heartbroken.

Defeated.

And completely, utterly lost.

The Aftermath You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the cold air biting at your skin.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, but you didn’t have the strength to check it.

Your mind was still replaying everything.

Ryujin’s anger.

Karina’s desperation.

Your own fucking mistakes.

You should’ve done something differently.

You should’ve stopped Karina sooner.

You should’ve run after Ryujin sooner.

You should’ve…

The thought trailed off as your phone vibrated again.

With a deep breath, you finally reached into your pocket and pulled it out.

1 New Message.

From: Karina.

Your jaw tightened.

You hesitated before opening it.

Karina: I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin things for you.

Another vibration.

Karina: But I meant what I said.

You exhaled sharply.

You couldn’t do this right now.

Your head was pounding, your heart was fucking breaking, and you had no idea how to fix any of this.

Slowly, you typed out a reply.

You: I need time, Karina.

You stared at the screen for a moment before sending it.

Then, without another word, you turned off your phone.

You shoved it back into your pocket and ran a hand through your hair.

The night was still young.

But you?

You felt completely drained.

And for the first time in a long time…

You didn’t know where to go.

Or who to go to.

All you knew was one thing.

You had to find a way to fix this.

To Be Continued

[witherby]

With Dick being so angry about Conner breaking in i could only imagine how chatic him actually meeting Conner would be, like having to keeo him in one of those kiddie keashes or he‘ll try to kill the guy 😭

A 17 year restrianing a whole adult man with one of those kid harnesses

Honestly? Yeah. Gimme some genuinely angry Nightwing every once in a while. Let that parentified man get some of that pent-up rage out!!!

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Family

Masterlist is Here!

Conner opens his eyes and sits up when he hears you step into his room. He stares at you incredulously, then at the darkness and the way it seamlessly folds and bends to your will.

"You're invulnerable?" You ask him.

"Yes?" He responds, confused. It's just past eleven at night, and you've shown up out of nowhere to chat when the only other time you've spoken was when he came to your room three days ago. "A bullet bounces off me at point-blank range. Feels like somebody flicked me with their finger, at most."

"Okay," you say, looking nervous, "because my family found out you broke into the house to talk to me, and they're, like, super livid. I just came to give you fair warning because they might, uh, try to kill you."

Conner chuckles. Your face doesn't change. He stops chuckling.

"What, you're serious?"

"They're looking for their stashes of Kryptonite right now. I hid most of it, but they probably have more I don't know about. Just...be prepared. And don't kill any of them, or you'll have to hide from me, next."

The shadows in his room curl around you again. You step into them and allow darkness to envelop you completely.

"Bye, Conner."

"Um," he blurts, cheeks reddening, "same. I mean, bye. Goodbye to you, too."

He hears you snort in amusement before you're gone again. Conner is then left alone to process, 1, that you were concerned for his well-being enough to come warn him about your family, and 2, that he made you laugh.

He can't sleep the rest of the night, giddy with the swell of adoration he has for you.

--

The next time Luthor has him leave the facility to do his job as Superman, it's when the first Superman has to go off-world again over a month later. Conner stops a bank heist, saves some hostages, puts out a fire, and helps a child find her parents when she wanders too far off in the mall.

Then he meets your youngest sibling.

His moniker is Robin. The implanted information helps Conner identify him immediately, which helps him realize that Robin should not be in Metropolis, and especially not in full costume. Alarm bells are ringing in his head.

"I was warned you might show," Conner says, hovering in the air as he looks down at Robin.

"Then you know what you've done wrong," Robin calls back, unsheathing a sword from his back and pulling a batarang out of his pocket. "Come here and face the consequences."

"I'm fine where I'm at, thanks."

"It wasn't a request, Superboy."

"Superman," Conner frowns.

Robin sneers. "Not from what I see."

Conner feels a flare of anger surge within him. What was the big deal? He just needed to see you. He didn't hurt you — he would never dare — just stopped by your home to talk. And you did the same thing! Why some human with an eye mask and a sword feels like they can berate him for that, he doesn't know, but he's not going to take it lying down.

Faster than Robin can blink, Conner snatches the weapons from his hands and tosses them aside, then flips his cape over his head with a sneer.

"Go home, sidekick," Conner says. "I don't have time for this."

"I do."

Something hits Conner's back. It actually hurts, which is the surprising thing, and he yelps as a man in black and blue spandex descends upon him and starts beating him with a pair of escrima sticks. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by a brand new sensory input he hasn't experienced before, then brings his arms up to shield his head and curls up further.

Nightwing, his brain registers between the blows. But according to his knowledge base, the man is usually not this violent. He always pulls back from an opponent when they duck down or hit the ground, and Conner is practically in fetal position. His sticks are glowing green, which is not a good sign. Conner feels sick.

"Oh, shit — hey, he's on the ground, pull it back!"

"This wasn't the plan, Nightwing, cool it —"

"I think he's doing great. Let him get a few more swings in."

"Robin you're not helping!"

"Seriously, get off him!"

Conner groans and gasps in pain. His whole body feels like it's on fire. There's sounds of a scuffle happening above him, but he picks up on someone else's shaky breathing a few yards away.

He cracks an eye open and spots a civilian half-hidden around the corner, filming everything happening.

The birds want to come to Metropolis and mess with him? Well, two can play at that game. They're about to be hated by the masses for touching the city's new golden boy.

Conner makes a panicked expression, lifts his arm and waves it in a sweeping motion, and starts shaking his head.

"R-run," he wheezes, "go, get away from here, get to safety!"

"What's he — shit! HEY, C'MERE!" Nightwing gasps, pointing at the civilian. The woman turns and darts into the building she was hiding by, fingers flying across her screen like lightning. "God dammit! Red Robin, can you —"

"I can't," the third figure standing by him says, sounding just as stressed. Conner recognizes both him and the Red Hood's silent figure, who had been physically holding Nightwing back from continuing to swing on him. Robin tsks and presses a few buttons on his gauntlet.

"We'll need to retreat and prepare to do damage control. The batmobile is coming, ETA 30 seconds. What do we do with him?" Robin kicks Conner's arm.

"We can't leave the kid. He's got Kryptonite poisoning and we dunno where his boss is to dump him for medical help," Red Robin says, crossing his arms and sighing. "We gotta take him with us and get the shards out."

"I say leave him anyway. It's just a couple pieces, and if he's as stupidly strong as the real Supes, he'll walk this off," Red Hood suggests.

"We wouldn't have to debate this if Nightwing had kept his cool," Robin grouches. Nightwing has the good graces to look chagrined and tucks his sticks away.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about...I'm sorry. C'mon, B will skin is alive if he finds out we left him for dead. Get him in the car."

They're about to abduct him, now, too? Conner almost laughs at the absurdity. All of this, just for paying you a visit? It's madness. But then he imagines some other stranger breaking into your room to talk to you, to touch you, to hurt you, and has to focus his energy to not start burning everything with his laser vision. It's not really absurd anymore. If he could draw a full breath without feeling like white-hot knives are slicing his vary atoms apart, Conner would attempt to explain himself. But he can't, so he doesn't.

He doesn't resist when two of them lift him and start loading his body into the back of a sleek, black vehicle. Metropolis' threats have been neutralized for today, so he technically doesn't need to stay in town. Instead, he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift.

They're taking him to Gotham, which is where you live. He has no qualms with that.

[kawhh]

Dark!Quinn would totally be obssessed with author-and-oblivious!reader. That's like a whole dream for Quinn....until reader goes out to party without telling him... (I've been trying to picture this coz I write and always at home.)

Dark!Quinn with an oblivious reader forever speaks to me. It's the corruption whore in me screaming out for help.

Combine that with a reader who's inside most of the time too? I'm deceased.

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, paranoia, location tracking, controlling behaviour, fear over what might happen to you, drugging talk.

He doesn't have to worry about you being outside, surrounded by strangers. Doesn't have to worry about who you're talking with, if people are flirting with you, if you're getting lost. Nothing. He knows you're safe with him.

He knows you're home whenever he gets home from a game, knows he can cuddle you, can wrap his arms around you, can watch your face flood with heat from his attention and affection. Kissing your stomach while you write, gently caressing your skin, not pushing you too far. He finds it adorable how oblivious you are about everything.

He never has any fear about you changing your routine. Never once crosses his mind until he comes home from a game one day, his fear escalating as you're nowhere to be found.

He's frantic, searching every corner of the apartment. Slamming open any closed door in a rush, ripping open the wardrobe doors, checking behind the shower curtain, checking everywhere.

He doesn't even think about checking your GPS location for a while, the panic monster taking over his brain. Too concerned if you've been attacked here, the change in the routine making him spiral.

The minute he does check? He's furious. He knows the club well. He knows what happens there often. He knows you're not used to being around people, won't know how to look after yourself, he doesn't understand how you're even there.

If it was for book research, you should've asked him. He would've gone with you, would keep you safe. Would keep people away from you, keep you buried against his side the whole night while you made notes.

What if you get drugged? What if someone touches you? What if you feel pressured? What if you panic? How are you getting home? Are you drinking? Why'd you wait for him to be at a game? He doesn't know how long you've been gone. Doesn't know what you're wearing - what if you feel exposed and cold.

He suddenly can't stand how oblivious you are. Fuck, you won't see anything coming. He can't. You're supposed to be home, safe.

He's breaking every speed limit and traffic law on his way to get to you. He won't freak you out, he won't be angry at you. He doesn't want you upset with him, he needs you. But he's not leaving you out there. You've done your research and now you need to be home.

Storming his way inside, the fear and panic leaving his system making him a little breathless when he spots you, sitting in a corner on your own, nursing a drink you probably bought to keep up the image.

The way your eyes widen when you see him, the look of regret and fear in your face. He knows he can't react, he can see how bad you feel about what you've done to him plastered all over your face.

He's not above embarrassing you as revenge, throwing you over his shoulder and tapping your ass. He's taking you right out of there, right back into his warm car, back into his apartment.

He's not having this happen again. He's not afraid to corrupt you just a touch, he's been holding back trying to fully protect you, but you need to know why you should stay there with him constantly. You need to know what could happen, you need to be consumed by him.

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

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[narcissisticsmoker]

It started with the way she said his name. The crack in her voice, the way her fingers trembled when she tried to talk about him, like she was afraid saying too much would break her all over again. I sat there, pretending to listen, pretending to care about every pathetic detail of the boy who didn’t deserve her in the first place. But inside, I was seething.

Because I was there the whole time. I was the one she cried to. I was the one who held her while she broke apart. I was the one who swallowed every desire, every filthy craving, because she needed a friend.

But friends don’t look at their friends’ mouths and wonder how they’d taste stretched around their cock. Friends don’t sit through sob stories with their fists clenched, picturing their hands around her throat instead. Friends don’t burn with the need to fuck the memories of some other man right out of her pretty little head.

But I was never her friend. Not really.

My fingers found her knee without thinking, tracing small circles, then higher, just enough to see if she would flinch. She didn’t. Her breath hitched, her thighs pressed together for a second, then eased apart. Her body was begging me without a single word.

You don’t want to talk about him, I said, voice low, rougher than I meant it to be. You want me to make you forget.

Her lips parted but nothing came out. She didn’t have to say yes. I could feel it in the way her pulse raced under my fingertips. I took her hand, pulled her up from the couch and led her to my room, closing the door behind us. There was no hesitation. I pressed her against the wall, my hands already around her throat, my mouth on hers before she could second guess a single thing.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a warning. I was taking everything. Every moan, every breath, every soft little sound she tried to hold back. My fingers slid into her hair, tugging her head back so I could kiss down her throat, feeling the way her pulse pounded against my tongue.

Clothes didn’t matter. I stripped her fast, impatient, tossing her shirt to the floor, sliding my hand between her legs to find her already soaked. You wanted this the whole time, didn’t you baby. All those nights crying to me, you wanted me to pin you down and fuck you until you couldn’t even remember his name.

She whimpered, legs trembling as I dragged her to the bed. I tied her wrists to the headboard with the scarf I always kept ready. I’d imagined this moment too many times not to be prepared. Her body was trembling, but it wasn’t fear. It was need. It was mine.

I knelt between her thighs, spreading her wide so she had nowhere to hide. My mouth covered her, tongue sliding through the mess of her arousal, licking up every drop like it belonged to me. She cried out my name, her hips lifting, chasing my mouth, and I gave her everything. Teeth, tongue, fingers stretching her open, fucking her slow until she begged me to ruin her.

And I did. I climbed over her, pinning her down, thrusting inside her in one brutal stroke that made her scream. I didn’t hold back. Every thrust was a punishment for every tear she ever shed over him, every time she let herself think someone else could touch what was mine. My fingers curled around her throat, squeezing just enough to feel her pulse throb beneath my palm.

Say you’re mine, I growled against her ear. Say it or I’ll fucking break you.

Yours, she gasped, nails digging into my back even with her wrists bound. Yours. Only yours.

The words sent me over the edge, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I fucked her like I was carving my name into her bones, like every thrust was a claim, every bruise a signature. I didn’t stop until her voice was hoarse from screaming, until she couldn’t even think about anyone but me.

I kissed her after, slow and possessive, fingers still wrapped around her throat, feeling the pulse that only beat for me now. Her body, her mind, her soul.

Mine.

Forever.

[f4dedtouch]

╰┈➤ there for you

pairing: fawn!reader x s3 rafe

summary: fawn!reader getting asked out by a random guy on a date the one guys rafe specifically tells her not to go with. light angst with a happy ending.

warnings: mention of cursing, rafe being a bit mean.

you were curled up in bed, highlighter in hand, trying your best to stay focused on your notes. rafe was sprawled beside you, arm tucked behind his head, lazily scrolling through his phone like he had nowhere else to be. this was normal—him hanging around your place, making himself comfortable while you studied, offering absolutely zero help but keeping you company.

for a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft scratch of your pen and the occasional vibration of his phone. but your mind was elsewhere. you’d been holding onto something all day, and you knew if you didn’t say it now, you never would.

taking a quiet breath, you finally spoke. “so… i think i’m going on a date this weekend.”

rafe barely reacted at first, just a slow blink before his eyes flicked to you. “with who?”

you hesitated, shifting on the bed. “you know that guy… uh, logan? the one with the stupid expensive watch he never shuts up about? yeah, him.”

his jaw tensed immediately. “no. don’t go.”

you sighed, setting your highlighter down. “rafe—”

“no, i’m serious,” he cut in, sitting up now, his whole posture shifting. “that guy’s a total dick. i promise you, he’s not a good dude.”

“you say that about every guy,” you argued, crossing your arms. “every single time someone asks me out, you find something wrong with them! i’m tired of it, rafe. i actually wanna give him a chance.”

“and i’m tellin’ you not to waste your time,” he shot back, brows furrowing. “i know guys like him. he doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“oh, and you do?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it. his expression hardened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

“yeah,” he said quietly. “i do.”

you swallowed, but the frustration was still there. “i just—i don’t get it. why do you care so much? why can you never just be happy for me?”

rafe scoffed, shaking his head as he stood up. “fine. do whatever you think is right.”

his voice was calm, but you could tell he was pissed. he grabbed his keys, casting you one last glance before muttering a quiet, “goodnight,” and walking out.

you laid back against your pillows with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling, feeling strangely unsettled.

you had put in the effort. the dress, the hair, the subtle makeup. you’d spent way too long deciding on an outfit, checking the mirror one last time before heading out.

and now, you were sitting alone at a candlelit table, fingers gripping your phone as you checked the time again. ten minutes late. fifteen. twenty.

the restaurant was buzzing with couples and conversation, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart as realization settled in.

he wasn’t coming. all that effort for nothing.

embarrassment crept in, your throat tightening as you quickly grabbed your bag and left, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stepped into the cool night air. you felt so stupid. this was supposed to be your first real date.

your hands shook as you unlocked your phone, pressing the only contact you could think of.

“rafe?” your voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

there was a beat of silence before he answered. “where are you?”

you swallowed hard. “he—he didn’t show up.”

another pause. and then, voice softer now, “i’ll be a little late, yeah? hang on for me.”

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.

when rafe finally pulled up, you immediately noticed the way his knuckles looked slightly bruised, like he’d been gripping somethin’ too hard. his breathing was controlled, but there was an edge to him, somethin’ unreadable in his expression. you didn’t say anything.

he didn’t say anything at first either, just opened the passenger door of his truck for you, just reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, his fingers brushing against your arm for the briefest moment before pulling away.

the car was quiet as he started driving. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, shame curling in your stomach.

“i should’ve listened to you,” you mumbled finally, voice small.

rafe exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. “yeah, you should’ve.”

your stomach twisted. “i just—” you shook your head. “i thought maybe, for once, things would be different.”

he glanced at you, and his voice softened. “that ain’t on you. some people are just assholes.”

you bit your lip, guilt gnawin’ at you. “are you mad?”

“no,” he said easily. “just pissed you looked that good for a guy who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

you blinked, caught off guard, but he just kept his eyes on the road, like he hadn’t just casually complimented you. I mean he always complimented you but this felt different.

a few minutes passed before he spoke again. “you hungry?”

you shook your head. “not really.”

“yeah, you are.” he pulled into the drive-thru of your favorite fast-food place without waitin’ for an answer. it was a tradition—eating in the car, parked in a quiet spot, just the two of you.

he ordered for you, knowing exactly what you liked, even throwin’ in your favorite dessert.

when you were parked, he handed you your food, watchin’ as you picked at it before finally takin’ a bite.

neither of you talked much, just eatin’ in comfortable silence, the familiar presence of him settlin’ somethin’ deep inside you.

when he finally drove you home, you turned to him, voice quieter now. “thanks for pickin’ me up. and for the food.”

“don’t mention it,” he said, jaw clenchin’ slightly.

but then, his expression softened, and he looked at you, somethin’ unreadable in his eyes. “hey,” he murmured. “if you need a date, let me know, alright? you don’t gotta go out with assholes.”

you let out a quiet laugh, shakin’ your head. “i’ll keep that in mind next time.”

he smirked slightly before leanin’ in, pressin’ a soft kiss to your forehead. “goodnight, sweet girl.”

your heart stuttered. “goodnight, rafe.”

he waited till you got inside then you watched as he pulled away, the glow of his taillights disappearin’ down the road.

what you didn’t know was that when rafe got home, he busied himself with paperwork, emails, anything to keep his hands from curlin’ into fists again.

because the sight of you sittin’ there, all dressed up and lookin’ like a dream, only to be stood up by some loser?

yeah. that was enough to make him wanna beat the guy into the ground all over again.

[mahalachives]

Part 1: Oops, I Tripped Into Prythian

Summary: In which a fan gets yeeted into the world of fae

Genre: humor, drabble, minor az x reader (bcus why not)

You were just minding your business, lying in bed, rereading A Court of Thorns and Roses for the fiftieth time, when the universe decided to absolutely wreck your life.

One second, you were flipping a page; the next, you were free-falling through what could only be described as the worst interdimensional portal ever. No warning, no flash of light—just a violent, gut-churning yeet straight into the land of hot Fae males.

You crash-land face-first onto something soft, groaning as your limbs flail like a traumatized starfish. Someone clears their throat.

“Why,” a silky male voice muses, “is there a human in my lap?”

Your eyes fly open. Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. Captain of Sarcasm. Maker of poor life choices. And you? You were sprawled across him like some overenthusiastic fangirl who finally got her wish—but at what cost?!

“Oh gods,” you whisper, scrambling off, only to face-plant into the grass. “It’s happening. I’m in Prythian.”

Rhysand raises a brow, looking equal parts amused and suspicious. “You know where you are?”

You sit up, brushing dirt from your face. “Yes, obviously. Unless I have a really specific fever dream going on right now.”

Before Rhys can respond, Mor appears, grinning like she just found the juiciest gossip. “Well, this is new. A human dropping out of nowhere?”

Cassian strolls up, arms crossed. “Did you summon her, Rhys?”

“I did not summon a clumsy human who smells like anxiety and… is that cheese dust?” Rhys sniffs disdainfully.

You blink. “I was eating Cheetos before I got transported. Excuse me for having snacks.”

Nesta appears. “What’s a Cheeto?”

Feyre, looking far too composed for the insanity at hand, sighs. “More importantly, who is she?”

You inhale, sit up straighter, and declare with absolute confidence: “I am just a humble reader who was yeeted here against my will. But—” You raise a dramatic finger, “—I refuse to waste this opportunity.”

Cassian smirks. “Opportunity?”

You whip around, eyes locking onto him. The shadowsinger, lurking in the background like a hot, brooding cryptid. Azriel. The Book Boyfriend.

Your voice drops to a sultry whisper. “Azriel.”

His shadows twitch. His brows raise just slightly. He looks at you as if you are both an anomaly and a problem. Which is fair, because you are.

“Oh no,” Rhys mutters, face-palming. “Not another one.”

You scramble to your feet, dusting off your pajama pants. “Listen. I don’t know how long I have before the universe decides to yeet me back to reality, but I am shooting my shot.”

You turn fully to Azriel, who is now staring at you with the intensity of a thousand unread texts. “Azriel, my dark and broody king, my nightmare of the night—”

Cassian snorts.

“I would like to formally volunteer as your emotional support human.”

Azriel blinks. Once. Twice. And then—he walks away. Just… turns and leaves.

You spin on Rhys. “DO SOMETHING.”

Rhys, grinning, shrugs. “If he didn’t kill you immediately, I’d say that’s progress.”

You fist-pump. “Yes.”

Nesta mutters, “I want to hate this, but I don’t.”

Feyre, ever the diplomat, sighs. “Let’s get you inside before you fall into another male’s lap.”

Mor loops an arm through yours. “I like you. This is going to be fun.”

Cassian winks. “For us.”

And just like that, you, a simple ACOTAR reader, are now a walking disaster in Prythian.

…And maybe, just maybe, Azriel’s shadows linger a little longer than usual as he watches you.

Because what fresh chaos is this?

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You’d been in Prythian for approximately four hours, and already, you had:

Fallen from the sky like a cursed shooting star.

Launched yourself into Rhysand’s lap (an experience that would haunt you forever).

Profess your undying love for Azriel, only for him to stare at you like you were a particularly difficult puzzle—and then walk away (rude).

Been force-fed fae food by Mor, who was far too excited to introduce you to “actual, non-poisonous, non-human garbage food.”

Currently, you were in the House of Wind, which was all well and good except for one small problem:

“No elevators?” you whisper, staring at the 10,000 steps leading up to it. “No escalators? Not even a rope lift?”

Nesta, standing beside you with her arms crossed, smirks. “You think we just float up there?”

You give her a very serious nod. “That is exactly what I expected. I mean, Rhysand has wings, Azriel has wings, Cassian has wings. Feyre could have wings. This entire operation seems wildly ableist.”

Cassian cackles from behind you. “She’s got a point.”

Nesta squints at him, then turns back to you. “If you want to get up there, you have two choices: One—train until you can make the climb without dying. Or two—bribe one of the bat boys to fly you up.”

Your head whips toward Azriel, who is conveniently leaning against the wall, arms crossed, exuding maximum broody energy.

You smile. “Azriel.”

His shadows curl around his shoulders, as if sensing danger.

“Would you like to give me a ride?” you ask, voice absolutely dripping with suggestion.

Cassian chokes on air. Mor drops her goblet. Feyre buries her face in her hands.

Azriel, who has likely survived countless wars and assassinations, looks like he wants to die on the spot. His shadows frantically swirl around him, whispering all kinds of warnings, probably screaming abort mission, abort mission.

But to your absolute delight, he simply stares at you for a long, painful moment, then says, “…No.”

Cassian howls with laughter. “I take it back. I love her. She’s staying.”

You huff. “Fine. I’ll get another ride.”

Mor, still laughing, grabs your hand. “Come on, I’ll winnow you up before you give Az a heart attack.”

You shoot Azriel one last dramatic look. “You could have had all of this,” you say, gesturing to yourself. “But you played yourself.”

Azriel blinks slowly.

He looks… confused. Intrigued. Maybe even a little impressed.

The moment Mor winnows you away, you just know his shadows will be whispering about you for weeks.

Later that night, in the House of Wind…

You are lounging in the giant fae living room, eating whatever snacks Mor gave you, when you hear Cassian scream.

You shoot up. “What the—”

A second later, something huge crashes through the door.

It’s Azriel.

Holding a chicken.

Correction: a very angry, flapping, unhinged-looking chicken.

Cassian is on the floor, laughing so hard he’s wheezing.

Rhys is leaning against the wall, covering his mouth with a hand, his shoulders shaking.

Nesta is watching in judgmental silence.

Feyre looks between everyone. “What… exactly… is happening?”

Azriel glares at Cassian, who is too busy dying to explain.

You blink at the chaos, then point at Az. “Why… are you holding a chicken?”

Azriel exhales sharply. “Because Cassian thought it would be funny to sneak a mortal farm animal into my room.”

Cassian cackles from the floor. “You should have seen his face. Pure terror. The great and mighty Shadowsinger, scared of a little chicken.”

Azriel glares at him, but his grip on the chicken tightens as it attempts a murderous escape.

You stand, crossing your arms. “Azriel.”

His hazel eyes meet yours.

“I have a very important question.”

He sighs. “What?”

You smirk. “Would you say that this is fowl play?”

There is silence.

Rhysand snorts.

Feyre groans.

Nesta covers her face.

Cassian completely loses his mind, laughing so hard he starts crying.

Azriel, for a brief second, looks like he might actually be fighting a smile.

And you?

You decide right then and there that you are never leaving Prythian.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Azriel, still holding the feral chicken, looks one deep breath away from assassinating Cassian. His shadows curl around his shoulders, clearly debating if this situation is beneath their skill set. The chicken, meanwhile, pecks his leather vambrace with zero fear.

“I swear,” Azriel mutters, “if you don’t take this thing back, I will personally deliver it to Eris.”

Cassian, sprawled across the floor, wheezing, waves a hand. “Take the chicken. See if I care. Maybe Beron will make it his heir.”

The chicken squawks in defiance.

You—being the kind, merciful, and deeply chaotic human that you are—decide it is your duty to name this creature.

You step forward, tilting your head. “Azriel.”

His eyes flick to yours, cautious.

“His name is Cluckriel now.”

Cassian completely loses his mind. He rolls onto his side, pounding the floor, gasping, “Cluckriel—”

Rhysand is now facing the wall, shaking.

Feyre bites her lip. Nesta is openly smirking.

Azriel closes his eyes, breathes through his suffering. Then, he turns—completely ignoring you—and walks away with the chicken still in his arms.

You call after him, “Are you keeping him?! Is this your emotional support chicken now?!”

Azriel does not answer.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You were beginning to accept that Prythian was your new home, and frankly, you were thriving. Between terrorizing the Inner Circle and dramatically flirting with Azriel (to which he mostly responded by walking away or sighing heavily), you were settling in just fine.

Which was precisely why it made perfect sense that Rhysand decided it was time for you to meet the other High Lords.

“Be on your best behavior,” Feyre warns as you stand before the shimmering portal leading to the neutral meeting grounds.

You give her an exaggerated salute. “Absolutely. I will represent the Night Court with grace and dignity.”

Cassian leans in. “She’s lying.”

Nesta sighs. “She’s lying.”

Mor grins. “I kind of hope she isn’t.”

You dramatically adjust your borrowed Night Court cloak, striking a heroic pose. “Fear not! I shall charm them all.”

Rhys rubs his temples. “Let’s get this over with.”

The moment you step into the meeting, you realize two things:

You are underdressed. The High Lords are all adorned in their regal finery, and you are wearing what can only be described as Night Court athleisure.

Tamlin is here. And he looks like he just smelled something foul. (Probably your sheer audacity.)

Beron eyes you with the disdain of a man who thinks fun is punishable by death. “And what, exactly, is this?”

You beam at him. “Hi, I’m Y/N, and I’m here to ruin everyone’s day.”

Helion chokes on his wine. Kallias straightens in interest. Thesan tilts his head, studying you as if you are an interesting new species.

Eris mutters, “Oh, this will be fun.”

Tamlin crosses his arms. “Another human playing at being something they’re not.”

You gasp, clutching your chest. “Oh no, my deepest insecurities, exposed by such a keen intellect! However shall I recover?”

Rhysand makes a strangled noise. Azriel looks suspiciously like he’s trying not to smile. Cassian grins outright.

Helion leans forward, intrigued. “Tell me, Y/N. How did you come to be in Prythian?”

You consider your answer carefully. “I fell through a wormhole. Or perhaps the universe just decided I deserved to be here. Either way, I am thriving.”

Kallias, cool and composed, nods. “And what is it you do?”

You shoot Azriel a slow grin. “Oh, you know. Make things awkward. Bring joy to those who don’t want it. Offer emotional support to broody males.”

Azriel exhales through his nose. Cassian is beside himself.

Beron sneers. “And why should we tolerate this nonsense?”

You tilt your head, giving him a sharp, knowing smile. “Because it amuses you, Beron. And gods forbid you ever admit that you need a little amusement in your miserable existence.”

For the first time in history, Beron has no retort. He just squints at you like he is debating whether to set you on fire or adopt you.

Rhysand claps his hands together. “Well, I do believe that concludes introductions. Shall we proceed to the actual discussions, or should we just let Y/N continue to terrorize everyone?”

Helion raises a hand. “I vote for terror.”

Eris raises his goblet. “Same.”

Tamlin storms out.

Azriel sighs. “I hate this.”

You grin. “No, you don’t.”

And for a moment—just the briefest of moments—his shadows curl around his shoulders in silent, reluctant agreement.

[mullermilkshake]

Hide and seek

Things get hot and heavy before the eve of the next game. The players vote to stay.

Frontman!Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x Frontman!Suguru Geto (Squid game au) Request by @vampir-queen Tags- MINOR DNI, Smut, PIV sex, semi-public sex, readers a virgin, murder,misogyny,mentions of threesomes/ejaculation/creampie, voyeurism, lets be honest Satoru and Suguru have definitely fucked, canon-typical violence, blood gore, kind of torture

Part three

Suguru laid up in his bunk after the final vote for the third game, he should have been elated. Yet the niggling feeling he had didn't leave his mind entirely.

Where had Satoru gone, and where were you exactly? 

He hoped he’d get a chance to spend time with you before the next game. Your little innocent face making him think about settling down often.

Maybe he should get away from these games and find himself a wife who took care of him, and in turn, he would take care of her.

He was an accomplished lover and he could imagine the sort of faces she’d pull when he did his duties as husband. Then, he thought about your pretty face, and how that would look.

Suguru turned over and fiddled with the sheet on the bed in the deepest thought he’d been in since entering. He could admit that he sort of liked you, but more in a ‘like to fuck you and run’ sort of way.

You had debt in your name, and though it wasn’t by much, it was still an inconvenience to him financially.

He had overheard once that Sukuna was married. Suguru wondered who was dumb enough to go with a grumpy old man such as him and actually make it legal. Would she be as dramatic and twisted as he was? Or perhaps she would be the innocent type like you who would most probably do whatever she was told?

Who knew? If there was one thing Suguru learnt from the brief reflection, was that he just wanted to get laid, a quick fuck to tire him over and help him sleep.

Lights out was fast approaching, Satoru and you were still nowhere to be found. So he got up and asked to be taken to the toilets, to relieve himself before the night started. 

Suguru barely opened the door when an old man marched out, folding his arms and cursing to himself about respect or something.

Then he heard it. Moaning, excited huffing and natural slapping of wet, sweaty skin.

“You like that?” A loud smack echoed around the restroom.

“Yes- yeah, I really do- oh god.” A breathless woman, clearly fucking in one of the stalls.

Suguru wanted to pay it no mind, consciously fighting his inner monologue to give the guy a handshake for getting lucky. He took a piss and tried his best to ignore the distorted moans, the water from the sinks sort of blocking it out.

And when he turned to leave he heard it again. “This pussy is mine, you hear me? Fuck, I wish Suguru could see this-“

Hold on a second… is that Satoru?

He tiptoed over and got as close as he could before his shoes would be visible under the door. The idiot got lucky enough with someone, though Suguru had his hunches, because unlike Satoru he wasn’t an idiot.

Satoru had gone missing. You were missing too. It wasn’t difficult to piece it together.

Well, fuck.

“I’m… oh my- I’m going to-“ your moan hit his ears, that sweet innocent drawl turned filthy.

You were most probably thinking that tomorrow was going to be it, that tonight was the last night before death. Suguru simply wouldn’t allow it, he would make sure you got through it, because he wanted some of what Satoru was having.

But for now he wanted to ruin it, because he was a dick.

He knocked and waited for Satoru’s lazy retort. “Fuck off. This stall’s occupied, if you couldn’t hear.”

Suguru snorted and stood closer so that his shoes were visible now, then knocked again.

“Jesus - I’m trying’ to get laid here, can it wait?”

He heard you whispering to him, audible only just barely. Satoru responded again. “Look, I’d be happy for you to join, but the lady ain’t up for that so get out of here.”

“Ten minutes until light’s out, Satoru.” The bathroom stall went quiet when Suguru spoke for the first time.

“Shit, that’s you?” Satoru laughed, the sound of skin on skin sounded again, your little moans were stifled but still there. “Open the door will ya?”

“What? No, I don’t want people seeing me like this, I’m embarrassed already.”

Satoru cooed and whispered back, “Don’t worry, Suguru’s like a brother to me, it won’t be weird, I promise.”

Suguru could hear you were uncomfortable, but decided not to comment on it, not if it gave him material to keep burned in his memories. And what a sight too, you half naked, sat on Satoru’s cock like the most comfortable seat in the house.

Now, Suguru had seen Satoru’s cock plenty of times, just like he had seen his too. Plenty of threesomes when times got boring in between games in their little town. Plenty of pretty girls, and what’s a little quick fuck with a girl in between amongst friends?

“Hey man, you good?”

He nodded and folded his arms, standing out of the bathroom stall looking in. “Can’t complain, but I came looking for you when you disappeared.”

“Sorry, got caught up in this, can you give us five? I wont take much longer.” Satoru continued to fuck you, though you wouldn’t dare look in Suguru’s eyes.

There was nothing to be embarrassed about, the human body was beautiful, Satoru’s included and Suguru would never judge someone getting off in the midst of murder and bloodshed.

He wondered, would you take him into the toilets too? He could only dream.

“Yeah, just be back by lights out, or the masked guys will come looking.”

“You got it.” Satoru slammed the stall door shut and Suguru left the bathroom, wandering back to his bunk and the mindset to fight off the hard on he was currently battling with. He could just go and jerk off when the lights went out, tonight was safe enough before the special game tomorrow, but he wanted to savour it.

To savour you. 

If Satoru had you, then Suguru automatically wanted you, it was just a thing that happened between Satoru and Suguru regularly. Like brothers or bratty children that wanted everything the other had.

He thought about how Satoru would finish, would you be risky and let him come deep inside you so that you were dripping come light’s out? Or perhaps you were a prude and made him come all over your tits or ass so it dripped all over the tiled floor for the masked soldiers to clean up.

Oh… now that was disrespectful. Something Suguru admired.

He’d ask Satoru about it later.

Once in bed, Suguru closed his eyes and never bothered to wait for Satoru to come back, slipping into sleep quickly before the usual boring music woke everyone up for the impending game.

Which game would it be today? Hide and seek maybe… or what about the other one? Suguru’s favourite, a game he came up with actually.

Only one way to tell.

“Mornin’.” Satoru climbed off his bed and joined Suguru down by the stage, awaiting the square mask to accompany them inside. “Man, I slept like a baby.”

“I bet you did, you sly dog. How many attempts did it take to get her in that stall anyway?”

“None.”

Suguru did not expect that, not from you of all people. “None? You mean-”

“Yup.” Satoru was incredibly pleased with himself by the grin on his face. “She propositioned me, and she’s a freak too- she put it under the guise that she was scared of dying today so she wanted me to take her virginity.”

“She was a virgin?” Holy shit, Suguru missed a few chapters here. “Fuck, how did you get so lucky?”

Satoru shrugged and watched as the large cool double doors opened for the soldiers to enter. “What can I say? I’m just one hell of a dreamy guy.”

“The next game will start shortly-”

Suguru ignored the soldiers. A virgin, you were a fucking virgin- how were you a virgin? “Lucky? That’s a one in a million.”

Fuck.

“Morning you two.” You appeared out of nowhere, your player jacket zipped up all the way this morning. 

“You seemed chipper today.” Suguru was making polite conversation as they entered the set of staircases leading to the game hall.

“Um… I mean- well I got some sleep. So I think that’s why.” 

Yeah, not because you had your brains fucked out by his best friend. Satoru wasn’t even trying to hide it, much to your own shyness, looking around every so often with his arm around you blushing and twiddling your fingers.

“Oh right, yeah, I’m sure that’s why.”

As they approached the doors to the game room, Satoru leaned into Suguru away from your prying eyes. “Hey, how do you wanna do this today?”

“I’ll take her this time, it’s my turn.” 

Satoru pouted. “Aw, what? But I’m on a roll here.”

The audacity. “Yeah, and you got to fuck her last night, give me some slack.”

“You coulda joined if she was into it, but she said no, what could I do?”

While Suguru did agree that it was your choice, he hated the carrot being dangled that close to his face and he couldn’t dive in head first to try it.

When the doors opened, the room was littered with furniture and Suguru could tell immediately what it was. He invented it this way. Large sofas and table tops, chairs and bed frames set up in an almost surreal way, tilted and twisted in the ground into sections. Comfortable enough to hold two people at a time.

“Welcome to the third game. The game will be played in pairs. The game is, The Floor is Lava. All players will stand on the ground until the countdown of twenty seconds begins, then players will need to find somewhere off the ground to remain while the floor becomes lava. There will be six rounds. Those who fall off, or if there are more than two people in the specified safe area, the players will be eliminated.”

“Oh god…” You looked around too, clinging to Satoru’s arm like you were rubbing it in too.

Luckily for you, Suguru knew the way around this game like the back of his hand.

He squeezed between you and Satoru and took your hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe this round, I used to be the best at this game when I was a child, right Satoru?”

Satoru just grumbled. Suguru relished it.

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course.” Suguru smiled as sweetly as he could and waved Satoru off. “See you on the other side, Satoru.”

He grumbled and wandered off in the crowds with his hands in his pockets. You were indifferent to his departure and observed the forming pairs and hung close to Suguru.

“So how should we go about this?”

“I repeat, welcome to the third game. The game will be played in pairs. The game is-” 

Suguru took your hand and held it firmly. “Stay with me at all times, if we climb on something, I’ll make sure no one gets on with us. That’s how we do this. But relax and do as I tell you and we’ll be just fine.”

“Alright then.”

The first round began once everyone was in pairs, the creepy music played that Suguru chose himself and each pair walked around the room anticipating the countdown that went off at random intervals.

Twenty seconds ticking away and Suguru pulled you over to an upturned sofa stuck in the ground at an angle. The part of the lava being on the floor had been misleading, though true. The floor was out of bounds and totally uninhabitable when it counted down to zero.

No shooting in this game.

You held on and Suguru watched, the panels in the floor opening completely which caused several people to disappear. The drop down into the pit was a massive one, fully set with punji sticks for added measure for the depravity Suguru held.

Satoru enjoyed breaking people down to nothing, Suguru enjoyed eviscerating them, making them suffer under the guise of conserving ammunition. Sukuna had been amused by that, he seemed to enjoy the punji sticks and was adamant to get a camera installed to watch as the players landed on them.

All Suguru had to do was keep you on a solid piece of furniture to get through the next five rounds.

After the numbers of the deceased players were called, the floor reset itself and the music began again. You climbed off first and slipped your hands in his for the time being, watching the countdown clock to go off at any second. 

“You’re doing great, just keep focused, can you do that for me?”

You nodded and zipped your head around for a piece of furniture when the timer started. You ran over to a table this time, not the best when it was slippery, but it would do. Once you climbed on, another player came over and yanked you off of it by your hair.

Suguru’s eye twitched, it was part of the game and there was nothing against the rules. However he wasn’t about to die for some dumb loser who couldn’t  get their life in order. Not at all. So he yanked the man off and shoved him into another table close by. He kicked the other player he was with off, pulling you up in the process just as the timer clicked off.

The men fell to their deaths and two other select pieces of furniture disappeared into the pit when there were more than two people on it.

Should have listened to the rules, they aren’t exactly difficult.

As the numbers died down and the final round approached, people were getting more desperate, frightened, and Suguru grew more excited.

Seeing people fight each other for survival fascinated him, he also wanted to see how you would fare too at some point.

But after he got a chance to fuck you.

Look at you now, clung to a sofa for your life. You were just begging to be fucked again. 

And where better else to be holed up in the bathroom during the special game tonight?

Perseverance, and he’d get rewarded.

Part two <- -> Part four

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen, or anything from Squid game. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[rayyanishere1]

"Studying? Yeah, Totally."

A Short FiddleStan Oneshot

(Part of the Loser Ford AU, but isn't relevant to the lore whatsoever lmao)

One night, Ford announced that he'd be at the library for a couple of hours.

"Knock yourself out, Sixer."

Once he left, Stan and Fiddleford looked at each other.

"Wanna..?"

"You don't even have to ask."

Stan led Fiddleford to the couch with only one motive in mind.

Forcing him to watch trashy television! They spent good money on that TV, and by God, they were gonna use it.

"Ladies and Gents, welcome back to 'Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong!' The show where you don't win prizes, but you don't get punished, either. I'm your host, Zain Squalus—"

Ah, yes, gameshows. The peak of entertainment.

"Is this really what you wanna watch?"

"It's either this, weird chick dramas, or the news."

Welp, can't argue with that.

Fiddleford tried many times to make a move; pretending to yawn to wrap his arm around Stan's shoulder, not very subtly inching his hand towards Stan's thigh. Hell, he tried to go in for a kiss at least 3 times!

Without fail, something would make Stan dodge his advances. Oh, he suddenly has to shift a little in the opposite direction to grab something, oh, something shocking happened and he needed his whole body to react to it.

Seems fate was planning on cockblocking Fiddleford today. Not cool, man. Not cool.

During a commercial break, Stan left to get some snacks. That gave Fiddleford some time to think.

It was obvious that subtlety was getting him absolutely nowhere. He just had to be a little more direct, right? Yeah, that's definitely it.

Stan returned with a bowl of chips and sat back down. Now was time for Fiddleford's master plan.

He used every tactic he knew all at once. Wrapping an arm around Stan's shoulder, leaning in closer. Maybe he should also try getting Stan's mind off of this weird gameshow he was so invested in...

"You know, Stanley, we're home alone."

"I would hope so, yeah."

"And we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, we are! We're watching Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong, the totally original gameshow based in Oregon."

"I just thought that, with Stanford gone, we'd be doing something else."

"...I don't follow."

That's Stan Pines for you, folks. The dumbest genius on Earth.

"Stanley..."

Fiddleford didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Instead, he decided that his plan of being direct was the right way to go.

"Stanley Pines."

"That's my name. Am I in trouble?"

"You're going to be if you don't kiss me right now."

"Haha, what?"

∆∆∆

The TV buzzed on in the background as they practically devoured each other's faces.

"Fidds, if you were this—hah—pent up, you could've just told me.."

"I tried to! For an entire hour!"

"Wait, really?"

"Lord, yes! I suppose something was keeping you from noticing."

"Uh huh.."

Deeming the couch to be too uncomfortable, Fiddleford took it upon himself to bring them somewhere more suitable for their.. Activity.

He picked Stan up like he weighed nothing and carried him to the bedroom.

Many kisses later, the two were shirtless and all over each other. It was like they were trying to fit multiple days worth of making out into one session. To be fair, though, it wasn't often that they had alone time like this.

Stan pulled away for a moment, much to Fiddleford's dismay.

"Ford's been out later than usual. He could come back any minute..."

Just as he said that, they heard the front door open.

Oh, God.

They rushed to put something on, not bothering to check what they had grabbed. If Ford saw them like this, in their shared space, Lord knows they'd never hear the end of it.

"Wait, are you wearing my—"

Too late to change now!

A few lazy knocks came from the door before Ford went in. He didn't even look at them, he just dropped his bag on the floor and flopped face first onto his bed.

Stan sighed in relief. It was a good thing that Ford was so tir—

"Wait."

The couple tensed up, expecting to get berated for their "inappropriate behaviour." Instead, Ford just took his glasses off and put them on his side table before promptly passing back out.

That was close...

[ellswritings]

Fight Me

Cody Rhodes x Reader

TW: Blatant violence (wrestling), mentions of Cody’s injury, reader and Cody are jerks, mature language, lots of tension.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Being an upcoming star in the World Wrestling Entertainment company was no easy feat, especially in the women’s division. Y/N L/N, or better known to the audiences as S/N, was hand-picked by CM Punk about a year or so ago to further her career.

He saw a lot of potential in her. Naturally charismatic, confident to a fault, a damn good wrestler, and not to mention, pretty easy on the eyes. She had all the makings of a legend, and he’d be sure to keep her on the right path to success.

Y/N knew that Phil had seen the ugly sides of the business and could navigate through it. She trusted him, despite the controversies that plagued his name. When she found out he was interested in mentoring her, she jumped at the opportunity without thinking twice about it.

Their partnership was absolutely perfect. He practically became her best friend in a matter of months. Not to mention, she had become a fan favorite thanks to his coaching. She’s made a lot of progress in an extremely short amount of time. She’s already taken on big names like Alexa Bliss and Liv Morgan, winning both of those matches. With the way things are going, she’ll be heading to Wrestlemania in no time.

She enjoyed playing her character when she got the chance to. Cocky, flirty, and not afraid to play a little dirty. But backstage, Y/N could not have been more different. Of course, she still has that natural charm, but she’s nowhere near as big-headed as her alter ego.

That’s why she became close with Joe and the rest of the Bloodline. They all found her behavior rather endearing. She was a breath of fresh air and quickly became like a little sister to their family. She wasn’t necessarily a member of the Tribal Chief’s table, a decision she made on her own, but she did always have their protection.

When Roman/Joe offered her a seat at the table, she did consider accepting the offer, but she wanted to start her career off with her hard work. She didn’t want to take the easy way by using the Bloodline’s status to get popular. Thankfully, Punk supported her decision and even commended her for her determination to make a name for herself.

She didn’t really have any issues with anyone in the company. She got on well with pretty much everyone, and even if she didn’t talk to someone, she still kept things cordial. There’s really only one person who seemed to always rub her the wrong way.

Cody Rhodes.

The American Nightmare had a way of pushing all of the wrong buttons. It all started the night of her third match on SmackDown. She had just beaten Nia Jax and was on an absolute high after that victory. As a part of her storyline, she accompanied the Bloodline to watch Roman fight in one of his matches. Of course, the Tribal Chief emerged victorious, but not before Cody’s music echoed throughout the arena, ruining the moment.

This moment is what sparked one of the biggest feuds in WWE history. And no, not between Roman and Cody, but between he and Y/N. She didn’t know why his confident, ‘better than thou’ demeanor bothered her so much, but it did. The way he walked out in his suit, pocket watch chain dangling from his pocket, it angered her to no end. He walked around with his head held high, nose stuck in the air, and all she wanted to do was spear him to the ground without thinking twice.

The moment he opened his mouth, it made her blood boil. Roman barely got one word in even though Cody originally came out there to taunt him. He and S/N ended up having more of a verbal beat down than anything.

Punk loved the idea of her feuding with Cody, but that’s simply because he didn’t like the American Nightmare either. Originally, everyone thought it was just a character feud. Just the two of them going at it in the ring, but it ended up transferring to their backstage lives too. No matter what capacity they were in, they always found ways to undermine or anger each other.

One particularly bad time was when Y/N was in the middle of an interview with a rather forward reporter. He wasn’t shy about expressing what he thought about Y/N and how she looked in the ring. She remained in character, but she wouldn’t deny that it made her rather uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I really love your costume. Whoever decided to put you in that knew exactly what they were doing to the audience,” the random man’s eyes briefly rake up and down her form. It’s not an obvious invasion of her privacy, but she caught on.

She keeps her feet planted firmly, her confident smirk never wavering despite the chill creeping up her spine. “What I wear isn’t a costume. And it’s most certainly not for viewing pleasure,” she replies smoothly. “What I wear is a message to my opponent that I’m going to completely obliterate their career and look absolutely fantastic doing it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

A small scoff and mocking laugh causes the camera to turn in the direction of the person who did it. Y/N stiffens, her eyes narrowing menacingly as Cody Rhodes appears seemingly from out of thin air, his signature smirk plastered on his face. She doesn’t understand how anyone can look at him and find him appealing. The terrible dye job, the very obvious fact he uses whitening strips, the way his clothes cling too tightly to his body. Even the way his piercing blue eyes silently judge her every move, it’s infuriating.

“Really, Y/N? ‘Cause from an outsider's perspective it looks a little more like a cry for attention.”

His cool tone is like taking a bucket of ice water to the face. Normally, she would be able to snap back at his retort with no hesitation, but after being ogled by this interviewer, she felt off her game. She didn’t know if Cody had heard anything the interviewer was saying, but it didn’t matter. He was trying to embarrass her in a moment that was meant to further her career.

“I didn’t realize you cared about what I wore so much Rhodes,” she says in a mocking tone. Her face remains impassive, but she can already see the field day the reporter next to her is having with the sudden tension in the room.

Cody scoffed, tilting his head at her with that insufferable smirk. “Oh, I don’t give a damn what you wear, sweetheart. I just think it’s funny how you act like you’re so above it all, but half your fanbase is too busy staring to even notice if you can actually wrestle.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. It was always like this with him—always some backhanded insult wrapped up in that cocky little smirk of his. She opened her mouth to snap back, but before she could, the interviewer let out an obnoxious chuckle.

“He’s not wrong,” the man said, his gaze dragging over her like she wasn’t standing right there. “Not that I’m complaining. I mean, the entrances alone are worth the watch, but, uh… the wrestling’s a nice bonus, I guess.”

Y/N felt her stomach twist. She’d dealt with this kind of thing before, plenty of times. It came with the territory. But something about the way this guy said it—so casual, like she was just some side attraction, like she was there for his entertainment—made her skin crawl.

Cody, for once, was quiet. Then, after a beat, he let out a sharp laugh and shook his head. “Wow. That’s cute,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You do realize she could break your nose in under five seconds, right?”

The interviewer blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Hey, I’m just saying what the fans are thinking—”

Cody turned to him with a flat, unimpressed stare. “Nah, you’re saying what you’re thinking. And maybe if you’d spent less time running your mouth and more time watching the actual matches, you wouldn’t sound like such an idiot.”

Y/N stiffened, her hands clenched at her sides. Cody wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean she wanted him stepping in for her. And she definitely didn’t want him making her look like she needed defending.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, so now you’re my knight in shining armor? That’s rich.”

Cody turned to her, and that smirk was back—only this time, it had a sharper edge to it. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, princess. I don’t give a damn about your honor. But if anyone’s gonna put you in your place, it’s gonna be me. Not some bottom-feeder looking for a headline.”

Y/N felt her face heat up—partly from anger, partly from something else she didn’t want to name. She should’ve fired back. She should’ve ripped into him like she always did. But for some reason, the words caught in her throat.

And Cody noticed.

His smirk deepened, and he took half a step closer, lowering his voice just enough that only she could hear. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?”

That did it.

Y/N turned on her heel and stormed off, shoving past crew members on her way to her trailer. She didn’t stop until she was inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

She needed space. She needed to breathe. Because for the first time since she’d met Cody Rhodes, she hadn’t had a comeback. And that pissed her off more than anything.

After that, she made it her mission to always have an insult for him in her arsenal. She hated feeling that vulnerable, especially around him. So when the opportunity to embarrass him as much as she could arose, she took it. He and Kevin Owens had been in the middle of a rather intense showdown in the ring, throwing more verbal insults around than anything. All of a sudden, her entrance music plays and she smoothly slides into the ring with a cocky smile on her face.

Both of them were rather confused, but to Kevin’s delight, Y/N challenged Cody to a mixed tag team match. He couldn’t deny her in front of the millions of people watching, it wouldn’t have looked good for their rivalry, or his image. So he of course accepted.

Which is what led them to where they are now.

“You got this, kid,” Punk mutters to her as he rubs her shoulders, pumping her up before she makes her entrance. Kevin is already out there with Cody and Bianca Belair, who the latter chose as his partner. It surprised a lot of people as the two of them haven’t really interacted much, but Cody’s always been one to respect hard work and dedication. Bianca embodies both. The fans went crazy when they found out how intense this match was going to be. Four big names going head to head. They tried to sell it as part of Cody and Kevin’s feud, but everyone knew who this fight was really between.

“I wanna rip his face off,” she grumbles lowly, waiting for her music to start as her cue.

“Well, as much as I would love to watch that, you can’t,” Punk pats her back softly. “You’ve gotta fight Bianca. But hey, if you win, you technically still beat him. So you got that to look forward to.”

As the first notes of her entrance music hit, the energy in the arena shifted. The roar of the crowd was deafening, the bass thumping through the speakers and rattling the very foundation of the building. The lights dimmed to a deep red glow, casting long shadows across the stage as smoke billowed from the floor. The LED screens flickered to life, displaying her signature logo—S/N—a name that sent a thrill of anticipation through the audience and a chill down the spine of her opponents.

Then, she stepped out.

Y/N L/N—**S/N, the woman who never backed down from a fight, the woman who never let anyone, especially Cody Rhodes, get the last word—**stood at the top of the ramp, her silhouette cutting through the haze like a warrior stepping onto the battlefield. One hand rested on her hip, the other lazily dragging across her lips, as if wiping off a kiss she never wanted.

Her signature smirk tugged at her lips, but her eyes held something sharper, something dangerous. The camera zoomed in, capturing the slow flick of her tongue over her bottom lip, a silent promise of chaos. She scanned the ring, her gaze locking onto him.

Cody Rhodes.

His arms were crossed over his chest, his jaw set, but she caught the way his fingers twitched at his sides. He was watching her. Good. He should.

With the confidence of someone who owned every inch of this stage, she began her descent down the ramp. The crowd reached out for her, their cheers swelling as she passed. Her black and red gear shimmered under the spotlights, her knee-high boots clicking against the metal as she moved like a storm rolling in.

Kevin Owens leaned against the ropes, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he watched her approach. Bianca Belair shifted in the corner, sizing her up, but neither of them mattered right now. Not yet.

As she reached ringside, she placed one knee on the apron before turning her head to the side, casting one last slow, deliberate smirk at the crowd. Then, with effortless grace, she slid between the ropes, standing tall in the center of the ring.

And she made a beeline straight for Cody.

The moment she stepped up, the air between them crackled. She tilted her head slightly, studying him, lips curving into something both mocking and enticing.

“Miss me?” she asked, voice dripping with condescension.

Cody exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Like a damn headache,” he muttered.

She chuckled, reaching up to tap her chin. “Funny. I was gonna say the same about you.”

Cody took a step closer, refusing to be the one to back down. “You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?” he taunted, tilting his head. “Last time you got in my way, you didn’t exactly walk away unscathed.”

Y/N let out a low hum, as if considering. Then, in a flash, she flicked her fingers out and booped him on the nose.

Cody blinked. The crowd erupted.

She grinned, leaning in just enough for only him to hear. “The difference between you and me, Rhodes? You think you’re untouchable. I already know I am.”

His jaw ticked.

“Hope you stretched,” she added, patting his cheek lightly before stepping back and rolling her shoulders, eyes flicking toward Bianca. “Wouldn’t want you pulling something when I drop you on your ass.”

Cody scoffed, shaking his head with a grin that was all irritation. “You talk a big game, but let’s see if you can back it up.”

Y/N only winked. This was going to be fun.

Bianca and Y/N were the ones starting the match off. They stood in their respective corners, the two of them mentally preparing for the grueling fight ahead. The bell finally rang, and Bianca wasted no time, lunging at Y/N with a burst of power.

Y/N ducked under the first swing, pivoting swiftly to land a stiff kick to Bianca’s ribs. The EST staggered but quickly recovered, flipping herself back up to her feet with effortless grace.

The two women circled each other, the crowd electric as they exchanged blow for blow. Bianca went for a clothesline—Y/N rolled under her arm, popping up behind her with a brutal dropkick that sent Bianca sprawling.

But Bianca wasn’t one to stay down. She kipped up effortlessly, catching Y/N off guard as she launched into a spine-rattling spear.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, and Bianca wasted no time, hoisting Y/N up for a vertical suplex. She held her there—just a little longer than necessary, letting the blood rush to Y/N’s head before slamming her onto the mat.

The crowd roared as Bianca went for the cover—

One!

Two!

Kickout!

Y/N threw her shoulder up at the last second, earning a frustrated groan from Bianca.

Rolling to her feet, Y/N shook off the pain before smirking at the EST. “That all you got?”

Bianca didn’t hesitate. She charged again, but this time, Y/N was ready. She dodged, catching Bianca’s arm and twisting her into a brutal DDT.

The crowd exploded.

Y/N glanced toward Kevin, debating the tag—but before she could move, Bianca was already rolling toward Cody.

Tag!

Cody stormed in, and Kevin, seeing no other option, slapped Y/N’s hand—

Tag!

Now it was Cody and Kevin’s turn.

The two men wasted no time trading blows. Cody came in hot, ducking a punch and catching Kevin with a snap powerslam that shook the ring.

Kevin countered, using his sheer strength to muscle Cody into the corner, delivering stiff forearm shots to his jaw.

Cody, never one to back down, fought his way out, hitting a disaster kick that sent Kevin sprawling.

The match raged on. Near falls. Reversals. Momentum shifting back and forth.

And all the while—Y/N and Cody never stopped glaring at each other.

Every time Y/N stood on the apron, Cody would glance at her, eyes sharp with irritation. Every time she smirked, he clenched his jaw just a little tighter. When she reached out for a tag, he stepped just out of reach, forcing Bianca to pull him back into focus.

It was personal.

And then, the moment of truth.

Cody had Kevin where he wanted him. He hooked his arm, twisting into Cross Rhodes—

But Kevin reached out.

Slap!

Tag!

Y/N launched herself into the ring.

Bianca barely had time to react before Y/N cracked her with a brutal enzuigiri.

Without missing a beat, she climbed the ropes, steadying herself before launching into the air—

Diving Corkscrew Stunner.

The crowd lost their minds at the brutality. She didn’t even give Bianca time to catch her breath before completely driving her into the ground. Y/N grins up at the camera cockily, pretending to glance down at an imaginary watch as the ref begins to count.

One!

Two!

Three!

The bell rang.

Y/N and Kevin had won.

Cody, still standing on the apron, looked furious. He didn’t even see how close Y/N was for Kevin to tag her in. It all happened so quickly. One minute he had the match in his grasp, the ultimate bragging right, and then it was snatched away from him by the smug woman in the center of the ring.

Y/N pushed herself up, breathing hard, her smirk returning as the ref raised her hand in victory. She turned to Cody, her eyes glinting with pure satisfaction.

She tossed him a mocking salute, a subtle jab at his stage name.

And then, with a wicked grin—

“Kiss my ass, Rhodes,” she says. But the crowd is too loud to hear her vulgar words. Only he and those standing close enough to them heard it.

The camera caught the sharp tick of his jaw as she spun on her heel, reveling in her victory.

The celebration backstage was nothing short of wild. As soon as Y/N steps backstage, she’s enveloped by loud cheers and is launched in the air by the Uso’s, setting her up on their shoulders. A loud laugh escapes her lips as they chant her name and offer congratulatory slaps on the back. Phil makes his way over to her as well, giving her a proud hug before getting out of the way. Even Joe, who usually tries to stay in his Roman headspace backstage, broke for a second to tell her how proud he was of her for how well she did.

It felt good. Seeing all the people she made proud. Hearing the crowd screaming her name. She could even hear Joe Tessitore’s voice ringing in her head as he practically screamed about her perfect form. She felt like she was floating on cloud nine even as she made her way to her trailer to get changed and wind down for the night, knowing she didn’t have to be on camera until the next morning for her victory interview.

A relieved sigh escapes her lips when she pulls off her heeled boos and finally gets herself into a pair of sweats and a sports bra. She flops down onto he small couch in the little living space, taking a sip of water before letting her body accept the exhaustion it had been working so hard to fight off. Her eyes drift to a close, planning on napping until the show is over, where her friends will no doubt be dragging her out to a bar after to go celebrate.

Planning. The key word was planning.

Two rather loud knocks sound at her door, making a small groan escape her lips. She truly did not want to get up. But she figured it was probably Phil wanting to do a recap of the fight, give her pointers on her form and things of that nature. He didn’t get the chance earlier due to the number of people swarming her. Unfortunately for Y/N, it was not Punk standing at her door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She says snappily.

Cody Rhodes is standing in front of her, his face accompanied by a look that the Bloodline would call ‘mean mugging.’ There’s a small bruise already forming on his left cheekbone from where Kevin punched him in the middle of their match, a few cuts here and there, a small abrasion on his elbow, but otherwise he seems unscathed. Well, physically. His ego is a completely different story.

He doesn’t say anything, his eyes trained on her the whole time. She can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, like he wants to say something but he can’t figure out what. He is angry though, she knows that much. His pretty blue eyes have never been colder.

“Hello?” She waves her hand in front of his face, irritated by his silence. “Did Kevin rattle around your last living brain cell a little too much, Rhodes? I asked you a question. Why the hell are you here?” She sasses, silently hoping to get out of the doorway soon. The crisp night air is making goosebumps break out on her exposed skin.

Cody doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just keeps staring at her like she’s the reason his whole night went to hell. And maybe she is.

Y/N huffs, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, if you’re just gonna stand there and glare at me all night, then go do it somewhere else. I’ve got better things to do than watch you brood on my doorstep.”

She turns to shut the door, but Cody’s hand shoots out, slapping against it before she can close it on him. She barely has time to register what’s happening before he’s pushing inside, slamming the door behind him.

Y/N whirls on him, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Who the hell do you think you are barging in here like you own the damn place?”

“Who the hell do I think I am?” Cody scoffs, stepping closer, his broad shoulders nearly filling the small space of her trailer. “I think I’m the guy who just got screwed out of a win because you and Kevin pulled your little last-minute tag stunt. I think I’m the guy who’s been dealing with your insufferable antics for months, and I’m damn sick of it.”

“Oh, you’re sick of me?” Y/N lets out a bitter laugh, tilting her head. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s been throwing a tantrum about me since the day I stepped into this company. You’re just mad because I don’t bow down and worship the ‘American Nightmare’ like everybody else does.”

Cody steps closer, eyes blazing. “Mad? You think I’m mad? No, sweetheart. I’m pissed. I’m pissed that every time I get in the ring, you make it your personal mission to humiliate me. I’m pissed that you’re constantly running your mouth, getting under my skin, and making everything more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Oh, I’m making things difficult?” Y/N snaps back, stepping up to him, refusing to back down. “Remind me, Cody—who was the one who stole my ring gear before my match last month so I had to wrestle in joggers? Who was the one who had my entrance theme switched out for some god-awful country song in front of a live crowd? Who spent weeks spreading rumors about how I ‘couldn’t handle the pressure’ just to try and shake me?”

Cody smirks, though it’s anything but friendly. “You mean the same person you locked in a supply closet before his main event? The same person you bribed catering to ‘accidentally’ serve extra spicy wings right before a promo? The same guy whose rental car mysteriously ended up with four slashed tires the night before a big match?”

Y/N’s lips twitch, but she fights the urge to smile. “That was a real shame. Wonder how that happened.”

Cody lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You drive me insane.”

“Well, right back at you, Rhodes.”

His eyes are still burning with anger, but there’s something else now—something simmering beneath the surface that Y/N can’t quite place. It makes her breath hitch, just slightly, but she covers it quickly.

Cody shakes his head, voice quieter but no less intense. “You know what the worst part is?”

Y/N raises an unimpressed brow. “Oh, please. Enlighten me.”

He exhales sharply, jaw clenching. “That no matter how much you piss me off, no matter how much I should hate you—I can’t stop looking at you.”

Y/N stills.

It’s the way he says it. Low, almost begrudging, like the words taste bitter in his mouth. Like he doesn’t want to admit them, but they’re forcing their way out anyway.

She blinks, momentarily thrown off her game. “What?”

Cody’s lips press into a thin line, but his eyes betray him. There’s heat there, undeniable and crackling in the air between them. “You heard me.”

Y/N opens her mouth, then closes it again. Because what the hell is she supposed to say to that?

Her hesitation lasts only a second before her defenses kick back in. She narrows her eyes, pointing a sharp finger at his chest. “You think you can just stand there and say something like that after everything we’ve done to each other? After all the shit we’ve put each other through?”

Cody steps in closer, the space between them nearly nonexistent. “Oh, don’t act like this is one-sided. I see the way you look at me. The way you find excuses to be in my business. You hate me, huh? Then why the hell do you care so much about what I do?”

Y/N lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Grow the fuck up, Cody. You are so full of yourself.”

Cody’s smirk returns, cocky and insufferable. “Maybe. But I’m also right.”

Y/N doesn’t even have time to argue before he’s kissing her.

It’s rough, heated, and everything it shouldn’t be. She doesn’t think—just reacts, grabbing his shirt and yanking him closer as she kisses him back just as fiercely.

For months, all they’ve done is fight, push each other to their limits, tear each other down just to build themselves back up. They thought it was rivalry. Thought it was hatred. But this? This feels dangerously close to something else entirely.

Cody’s hands grip her waist, pulling her flush against him, and Y/N thinks she might lose her mind.

She pulls back just enough to catch her breath, lips swollen and chest heaving. She smacks his chest, but it doesn’t hold as much weight as it normally would, “I still hate you,” she whispers breathily.

Cody smirks, running his thumb over her jaw. “No, you don’t.”

And then he’s kissing her again, and this time, she doesn’t stop him.

[accio-sriracha]

WIP Game

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

I was tagged by both @ephemeralstarss and @bradleysass ..... You guys realise I have over 100 wips, right?😭

I literally don't know this many people so OPEN TAGS!! Please tag me in your posts so I can see your wips!!

(Because of the sheer amount, if you want to ask about a fic just ask in the comments of this post and I will respond there, feel free to ask about as many as you'd like!)

All 131 titles after the cut <3

Drarry:

The Honeymoon

What You Think You Know

The Next Morning

Truth Be Told, It Happened Again

What Happened In The Dark

On The Ministry's Galleon

Six Feet Deep

Lovesick

The Slytherin Bet

Wounds That Heal Us

A Heart For The Holidays

The World Around Us

Hopeless Infatuations

Oh, To Be Loathed

The Boy Who Lived

Something To Run To

Panic

Changes

To Capture Or Kill

You Only Live Once

A World On Fire

If Not You Than Nothing

A Marriage of Convenience

Smoke and Mirrors

Empty Promises

First Priorities

Falling into Memories

Professors

Through Dangers Of War

The Scars Kept Hidden

Everything I’m Not

Golden Hours and Pyrrhic Victories

Coffee At Yours

Save The Last Dance For Me

What Once Was Gold

Wolfstar:

Revenge

Hearing You

Dreaming Of You

Clashing Teeth

Looking For This?

Four Places At Once

The Full Moon

Interruptions

Silence

The After Party

The People We Become

If We Should Fall

Waking Up Beside You

Venture or Veritaserum

The Intimacy Of Being Understood

Friends To Lovers (But They Were Never Just Friends)

A Tale From The Beast Himself

Kissing Number Three

An Odd Announcement

Letters From You

Schedule

Head First

Dear You, Love Me

Fresh Coffee and Split Knuckles

Sirius And The Black Family Trauma

Wherefore Art Thou?

The Enchanted Mistletoe

Affection

In Your Shoes

What Once Was Mine

Sirius Black Fucked Everything Up

The War Won't Wait For Us

Catching Feelings

Whatever It Takes

The Summer We Fell

To Ache Is To Be Alive

Of But Flesh And Bones

The Road Trip

How To Prank Sirius Black

Take My Name And Make It Yours

What You Make Of Me

XOXO -Moony <3

Moonlight Miracles

Jegulus:

My Brother’s Best Friend

Stuck In Your Head

I Want You

First Time?

The Night In The Tower

A Hostage Situation

A Good Memory

Who I am (Is In Love With You)

Nice Speech, Potter!

To Be Known

Everything To Lose

Lily’s Ex Boyfriend

To Fall For The Fallen

If Not For Wings

Chasing Stars

The Brother Next Door

The Play

Once Upon A Time

The 7 Stages Of Falling In Love

Jegulily:

Him or Her

Woe Is The Man Who Falls

When Two Becomes Three

Jily:

Soda, Secrets, and Stereos

To Be Together Is To Be Home

Finally

Marylily:

Smoke Hazed Conversations

Dorlene:

What Aligns Within Us

Rosekiller:

Born of Hatred, Living in Fear

General:

Falling Into You

Pretend To Love Me

The Road To Nowhere

Hurts Like Hell

That Time of Month

Making Our Mothers Sad

You Are Not My Father

He Was Mine First

Returned To Sender

Hold Your Tongue

Where The Sun Shines

Marauder Ever After

If It Comes To It

Where The Lines Blur

The Good Brother

James Potter’s Love Affair

The Breakfast Club

The Princes of Polaris

Hey, It’s Me Again.

Fated Misunderstandings

Lily Evans and the Marauders

It’s In The Eyes

The Words You Spoke (And The Ones You Didn’t)

The Stars In Your Name

Life After Death

[dalishthunder]

Been thinking a lot about annuum my beloved

[michyeosseo]

semidoyi backstory;

title taken from lyrics to lifts, c/o my 아두 derangement playlist ♡

[peachsayshi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁ THE KING  ₊ ⊹ .

(boxer!sukuna x reader)

⊹ tags: ryomen sukuna x female reader; childhood friends; character mentions: uraume - satoru gojo; unresolved tension; sukuna is oh so in love; fluffy but a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; p in v sex; unprotected sex; dry humping; making out; oral sex;

:about: you've known sukuna before he was a world boxing champion, when he was just a scrawny kid who used to hide behind your legs when you were both in kindergarten. sukuna is growing tired of the fame and fortune, and all he really wants is to fall into the arms of the one person who he's always considered his home.

this fic is one shot. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding boxer!sukuna x reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.

wc: 19K+

Sukuna steps out of the shower, his body wound up in a tight coil after the night's fight. He presses the bridge of his nose together to relieve his throbbing head, but his brow is searing with pain. When he opens his eyes he catches a reflection of his self in the bathroom mirror- a split on his bottom lip, a cut on the arch of his right eyebrow and a slight bruise on his left cheek. 

It's rare for him to look this battered after a match. 

He's been untouchable for years, he's almost forgotten what it's like to take a few good hits in the ring. 

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" 

His eyes flicker up toward Uraume, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere.  

He shakes his head at his manager. "Nothing happened, I won. Isn't that a good thing?"

Uraume narrows their gaze, sharp like a sly little fox. They can read Sukuna like a book, but Sukuna chooses to play ignorant and brushes off their knowing stare. 

He knows that the inquisition isn't about the sponsors, the money, or the win. 

He also knows that Uraume never asks questions that they don’t know the possible answer to. 

Thankfully, his manager just sighs. 

"The limo is outside waiting to take you to the party," they state, their heavy exhale indicating that they know Sukuna won't own up to what they are trying to prod out of him. 

"Fuck," Sukuna grumbles. The towel hangs low on his hips, and he throws the one that is around his neck onto the ground. He steps outside to the locker room and proceeds to change. He dries off, puts on his boxers and picks up his black t-shirt before pulling it over his bare chest marked with ink. He then tugs on his jeans, and secures his belt around the waist. "Do I have to go to that?" 

Uraume shrugs, "Don't you want to parade your big victory over Satoru Gojo to the rest of the world?" his manager adds, slipping both hands into their pocket as they stride casually toward Sukuna who is merely trying to gather the rest of  his things. 

The last touch is his signature silver chain necklace. He hooks the accessory around his neck, while mentally preparing himself for the crowd waiting for him outside. For the voices that would be screaming out his name, and the obnoxious paparazzi who can't seem to grasp the concept of personal space. 

They all gawk at him like he's a endangered animal at the zoo.  

His chest seizes at the thought. 

He used to gloat over being in the spotlight. He took to stardom with an extreme sense of pride, but the thought of it right now just makes his skin crawl uncomfortably. 

The only thing that Ryomen Sukuna wanted at this very moment, is to go home in fucking peace. 

He’s given the fans and the world what they wanted. 

"Little shit got what was coming to him," he blurts out in response to Uraume. "It'll take him a while to lick his wounds and get over his broken pride..." 

Uraume chuckles, "and I was worried that he might have actually had an advantage over you..." 

Sukuna swallows the sudden lump in his throat. 

God he was fucking tired. His whole body is aching, begging him to get some much needed rest. He hadn’t trained this hard in a long time. The strict diet, the isolation, the strenuous days in the gym and in the training ring slowly started filtering into him in doses. 

"Almost," he admits quietly, a little bitter over the reality of the situation that he was close to losing. "He's good for his age. Really good actually." 

Uraume's face falls at that. "You don't sound like yourself, my king," they tease half-heartedly, addressing Sukuna by yet another title which he earned in the ring. 

"The King", "The Beast", “The Champ”, “Monster of The Ring”…

There was a time when he was younger, when the fire for the fight burned inside him with such intense conviction, that he found dignity in the titles that he's earned from every match. The thrilling sensation of him standing in the middle of the ring, his hands raised with victorious joy as he looked down at his opponent while the crowd would cheer for him like he was a figure of the divine, used to mean a great deal to him. 

But those titles feel…hollow. An old skin which Sukuna unknowingly shrugged off without even realizing it. 

"I'm just exhausted," he breathes with a hint of frustration, giving Uraume a reply after allowing his mind to drift for a few seconds. "I've got a raging headache and my shoulder is killing me." 

He slings his bag over his good arm, before turning to face his manager. 

The pair walk down towards the end of the hallway, and Sukuna can already hear the muffled voices from the press that have slowly gathered inside. He elongates his spine naturally as he holds a domineering pose. He quietly huffs out a breath and tries to steady the uneasiness coursing through his veins. The second the press lay their eyes on him, they stampede towards Sukuna like dogs off their leash. A flash of white and blue flickers around him, disorienting him for a single moment. 

"Hey, champ! How does it feel to knock out Satoru Gojo after everything he said this season?" 

"Way to prove that you're still The Beast of the Ring! What's next for our King?" 

"You've held your championship title for ten consecutive years! How do you go up from here?"

"Sukuna! Sukuna! Is it true that you've just locked in a multi-million dollar deal with Nike?"  

Uraume steadies the crowd, protectively standing in front of Sukuna as they gesture everyone to calm down. 

Despite the sheer difference in their size, Uraume has a natural way of commanding a room. 

That's one thing Sukuna has always been grateful for regarding his manager; Uraume always looked out for his best interest first.  

"Hello, everyone," they politely speak, their voice calm and pleasant. "While we appreciate the enthusiasm; our champion, Ryomen Sukuna, will only be making a single statement. He's had a long night and needs his rest," they announce, before looking over their shoulder and giving Sukuna a nod of approval to say what he needs to say. 

The man is thankful for Uraume every single day. He already informed them earlier that he wasn't interested in any post-match interview or conversations with the press, and Uraume happily obliged by accepting the privacy that he desperately needed. 

Sukuna tightens his grip around the gym bag over his shoulder. He stares at the small audience before him before clearing his throat to speak. "Young fighters like to run their mouth. I know because I used to be one of them. It's easy to be all bark and no bite. But in my case, I came out teeth first-" he states with a patronizing tone, noticing the press eagerly hang onto his every word and even laughing at his snide remark. 

They are waiting for a brutal comment from the badass himself, for him to add the cherry on top of all the shit-talk he’s already dished out. 

But Sukuna acknowledges that there is no place for it now. 

He doesn't need to add more to the hurt he's already caused to Satoru Gojo. 

Everything was settled in the ring, and now it was over. 

"However, I have to admit that this was one of the best fights of my career. I had fun. He's been a thorn by my side but I respect Satoru, and I know he has a brilliant career on the horizon. That's all I have to say about that for now. Have a good night." 

He steps away from the press, who trail at his feet like a pack of rats rattling off question after question as Uraume tries to console their demands. His manager delays their footing, all the while Sukuna finds the rest of his entourage at the arena exit. 

A string of bodyguards help him get through the second crowd of loyal fans who have gathered. They are waving phones in the air, begging for photos and videos. Sukuna obliges with a few, trying his best to fight off the shakes that's starting to make his hand tremble slightly. People lift up their shirts, flash their cleavage and pull out posters, bras and clothes for him to sign. He does so, his signature faltering from a clean string of letters to a fast doodle of his name. His fans offer him flowers, art, and mementos which he takes, and whatever extra he can't carry he hands off to one of his guards. When he's finally had enough of giving himself to the fans, he bids everyone a wave as his bodyguards escort him to the private parking lot in the back of the arena. 

Sukuna doesn't even realize how hard his heart had started hammering until he's embraced back into the quiet again. He feels incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and he isn't sure if it's the apprehension or the adrenaline wearing off from the fight. The phone in his pocket buzzes, probably Uraume wanting to make sure he's made it safely to his vehicle, but he can’t bring himself to answer the call. 

"Sir," one of his bodyguards states, "There's a VIP who is expecting to see you..." 

"So?" Sukuna scoffs, the black Mercedes in the distance a sanctuary. "I don't want to fucking see them." 

"Well, you see, they insisted. They weren't taking no for an answer." 

"And you would be shit at your job if you just let them roll over you like that," Sukuna begrudgingly replies. 

Sukuna wasn't particularly fond of the VIP guest lists. A majority of them were people who wanted to fawn over him, or simply weasel their way into his pants. The other half were people with deeper pockets trying trying to bargain him into fixing fights so that they can win big bucks on their bets.

Sukuna did not have the time or patience for the latter, and even the former as well. 

Especially tonight. 

"Actually, Sir, she's waiting for you as we speak-" the bodyguard stammers, having to look up when he addresses Sukuna. 

The champion stops abruptly to give him a puzzled stare and a piece of his mind over his bodyguard’s stupidity, but his attention is sharply drawn back to the car when he notices a figure step out of the Mercedes. 

You're wearing a denim skirt, a fitted white top and a pair of black boots. Sukuna’s heart skips a beat, noticing that your hair looks a little different from when he last saw you. A sparkle of silver glitters on your neck that matches his own chain, and you beam at him with a bright smile that steadies his soul.

  The click of your heels echo a little louder from the distance as you approach him, waving your fingers delicately in his direction to say your first hello. Sukuna's feet moves faster than the rest of him. He drops his bag off his shoulder, the gifts in his hands splay across the concrete ground and he scoops you up in his arms before spinning you in the air the second he wraps his arms around you. 

You giggle at his greeting, your body trapped in a blanket of muscle and cologne. Your fingers thread between the strands of his red hair, tears pricking your eyes at the sight of your best and oldest friend. 

Sukuna squeezes you tightly, "they should have just told me it was you by name," he exhales with a hint of annoyance, then carefully places you back down to rest your feet on the ground. 

You laugh under your breath, "Don't worry, I gave them hell for it. I told them that I'm the only VIP who mattered considering I have been on that list the longest...." 

You try to loosen your grip but Sukuna tenses up, so you ease back into his hug. 

He didn’t want to let go just yet. 

And truthfully, neither do you. 

"Hi, princess," he whispers in your ear, his voice deep and thick with fatigue. 

"Hey, 'kuna" you reply softly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as your heart beats heavily against his now relaxed chest. 

₊ ⊹ .

The light from the car's backseat illuminates Sukuna's ruggedly handsome face. You cup his jaw between your fingers, and lightly trace your thumb over the cut on his swollen lip. Your eyes track upward and you wince at the gash across his brow. 

"He got a few good hits on you didn't he?" you point out, not as a question necessarily but more as a statement of the obvious. 

"A few good hits doesn't mean shit..." 

"When was the last time you got hit this bad in the ring?" you press. 

"I fight for a living, someone was bound to land a punch someday. Besides, it's not a concern. I had my good luck charm tonight without even knowing it..." he responds with a wolfish grin. 

You jab him playfully in the chest. "You're not made of steel you know? You had me concerned for a second..." 

"I roughed him up too," Sukuna states with a pout, "you're all acting like he walked away completely unscathed..." 

He slings an arm over your shoulder, his strength pushing your body weight to lean closer against his side. You shake your head with disapproval as you press the button to switch off the light above you both. 

The city moves past you in a haze, but you can't stop taking in the man before you. 

Ryomen Sukuna. 

The first time you met him was on the playground of your old kindergarten. You were all outdoors, and you noticed that these two bigger kids were knocking him around. The kindergarten teachers weren't anywhere to be seen. At the clear imbalance of power and with your sheer sense of goodwill, you decided to go over there and help. 

Sukuna had just joined your class only three weeks before that. He was the smallest kid, and had a hard time keeping up with everyone else. Everyone made fun of him and called him "chili crisp"  because of his hair. They teased him constantly for how he looked, how he dressed, and how he spoke and simply refused to play with him. 

Being young and impressionable, you never engaged. But you didn't do anything to help Sukuna either. It made you ache seeing him treated this way, and this time you weren't just going to let it slide anymore. 

Sukuna did nothing to deserve this treatment in the first place. 

However, despite his small stature, Sukuna was a fighter even then. 

He kept getting up even if it meant that he would just be shoved down once again. 

You remember walking up to both those kids and grabbing them by the collar. You yanked them off, placing yourself in between them and Sukuna before scolding them both for their terrible behavior. 

"I'm gonna tell!" you squealed with a furious point of your finger, threatening them with snitching words. "And if I ever see you hurt him, I'm going to make sure everyone knows how bad you are! And you’ll get into so much trouble with the teachers!”

You sharply kicked them both in their heels, and watched the kids scamper off, a little more intimidated now that someone they deemed as an equal threat entered the playing filed. Once they were gone, you turned toward Sukuna who was planted on the concrete ground. He was wiping away his snotty nose and trying to hide his tears. 

You scratched the back of your head nervously, your throat all itchy and tight from the sight of him. 

"You're-you're not a chili crisp," was all you could think of telling him in that moment. You gave him a small but kind smile, before offering him both your hands and helping him on his feet. 

He was a whole head and shoulder shorter than you were back then. His clothes barely hung onto his body. He had to fix up his t-shirt and readjust his shorts. 

"I know that," he answered with irritation, and a scowl that never seemed to have left him. 

You assisted in brushing the dust off him. 

"Your name is Ryo-men Su-ku-na?" you asked, breaking down the pronunciation of his name to make sure you said it correctly. 

He nodded his head quietly. 

You gave him another tender grin, and reached out for his hand before introducing yourself. 

"I know who you are, I'm not stupid." 

You frowned at his sharp response. "I never said you were." 

The two of you stood there facing one another in awkward silence, unsure of how to proceed from the moment. 

You shifted your weight from one foot to the next, kicking a random little rock on the ground. "Those kids are stupid." 

"Yeah, they are." He grumbled through gritted teeth. 

"So, if I'm not stupid and you're not stupid, why don't we be friends?" 

Sukuna's eyes widened slightly at your words, like he couldn't believe what you said. 

"Friends?" 

"Yeah!" you squeaked with a little more excitement. "You'll have someone to sit next to and play with every day!" 

He nervously gripped the hem of his tee. 

He never gave you a real response, but the next day he showed up and took a seat right next to you in class.

You were both six years old, and have been insuperable ever since. 

₊ ⊹ .

You press your cheek against his broad shoulder, and Sukuna sighs as his body melts into the leather seat underneath him. His hand gently rubs your own shoulder, with the two of you sitting in silence together as you have done many times before. He instructs the driver to take you both back to his penthouse, disregarding some after party that he's expected to attend. 

At the call, your heart flutters with anticipation because it was a clear sign indicating that he wanted to be alone with you. 

You shivered thinking of the last time that happened. 

It's hard to believe that this version of Sukuna co-exists with the person you've known for a majority of your life. 

The day after he sat next to you in kindergarten, everything changed for the better. 

Sukuna still grimaced at everyone else, but kids no longer picked fights with him and he had a warming smile that was reserved for you alone. 

Whether in class or outside of school, you both spent every spare moment that you could together. You were glued to the hip like two peas in a pod. Your parents adored him, doted on Sukuna despite him resisting their affection. It was only one night, when he was having yet another sleepover at your place, where you finally asked him how is he able to hang out with you all the time. 

Sukuna revealed a truth that broke your heart entirely. 

“Here is better than being home. Usually it's just me..." 

"Just you?" you whispered innocently, "but your mom and dad?" 

You watched him shrink into his blanket with uncertainty. "Don't know. I live with my Grandpa. He works a lot..." 

It's only later in your life where you learnt the full story. 

Sukuna’s parents abandoned him, leaving him with his grandfather to pursue reckless adventures together. At the time Sukuna was only three years old. His grandfather worked hard to provide for the boy, but he was an aging old man and didn’t expect to be responsible for such a young child. Sukuna's grandfather always showed deep gratitude to your parents for helping out and providing Sukuna with another safe space that gave him some much needed stress relief on his end. 

His daughter eventually returned, in tow this time with Sukuna’s half brother Yuji. His dead beat dad was gone for good. But by then Sukuna was already fourteen. 

He’s always had a complex relationship with his family, but things seem to be better with his brother. The two of them could pass off as identical twins, it was almost scary how alike they looked. 

You loved Yuji; he was a living antithesis of his older brother. Always perky, smiling so bright it’s like the sun follows his footsteps. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, carried the shadow and gloom of a waning moon. 

Your childhood and early adolescent years were precious, cherished moments and memories that solidified the strength of your relationship. But despite everything, you were the only person who saw how bright Sukuna's own light could shine. 

The driver finally parks the car in front of one of the most expensive buildings in Tokyo. Sukuna gets out first, and extends a hand into the vehicle to help grab yours. The touch sends tingles up your arm, but you do your best not to read into the reaction just yet. 

The two of you enter the building, passing the security who simply tilts their head in acknowledgment, but from your peripheral vision you notice Sukuna’s eyes shifting around his environment.

“No cameras,” you reassure him with a squeeze to his bicep. “No paparazzi…” 

Sukuna was aware of what he signed up for with fame, but that did not mean that you had to be subjected to the aggressive violation of privacy. 

And after everything that happened, after the horrific clashing of both your worlds, he felt himself breathe a huge sigh of relief. 

“They probably think I am showing up to the victory party,” he answered with gratitude.

The elevator rings, the doors opening as you both step inside. 

Sukuna hits the button to the penthouse suite, and from the way his shoulders slump you can tell there is something off about his demeanor. 

This isn’t the Ryomen you knew who walked away from a fight with the buzz of the winner. 

He’s dimmed. 

A bulb that’s flickering. 

Something’s wrong, you thought, looping your arm around his and keeping your eyes on the numbers increasing as you swallow your concern. 

₊ ⊹ .

Puberty didn’t hit Sukuna; it struck him like a brick over his head. 

At sixteen years old, Sukuna was no longer the loser kid that everyone picked on. He was a tower, a watchful pillar that looked down on those around him with an intimidating stare. All of a sudden this scrawny boy shot up like a tree, his body springing into a new version of himself. His voice broke, dropping octaves lower than the soft tone of what it used to be. His shoulders broadened, lean muscle forming since he spent most of his time wrestling and boxing.  

He became the bad boy that everyone blushed and fawned over. 

The athlete that people admired.

His coaches loved him - called him a prodigy, and a star of the future.

Sukuna carried himself with plenty of self respect, and was extremely well spoken. Outside of his athletics he enjoyed reading and learning history, and his venture into sports only happened because it kept him busy and gave him some much needed space away from his home. He was readjust to a new life with his mom back in the picture, and a brother who was five years younger than him. At first it was simply an escape, but once he settled into the atmosphere of it all, it gave him a sense of structure. Sukuna was diligent about his training and academics, outsmarting and outplaying almost everyone around him. His motivation was fueled with every game and competition, and you quickly saw that Sukuna only had the expectation of being a winner and nothing else. 

Navigating your teenage years was a bit tough for both of you. 

It began with one sleep over just a year prior, the moment where you both recognized that things couldn’t progress as casually as they used to. You woke up tangled in each other’s arms, hyper aware of your bodies and the parts that were blooming. 

Sukuna slept on the sofa every sleep over after that. 

Thanks to your eruptive hormones, the both you bickered often and frequently. As you and Sukuna started understanding your own senses of selves, a hint of distance started to grow. For a long time the two of you only ever had each other, but with Sukuna now a part of the athletic group and you falling in line with your own little clique, the both of you were finding some time away from each other and identifying who you were without the other person around. 

However, you always came back to one another, like two little magnets seeking each other out. 

It’s all you’ve ever known since you were six. 

One afternoon, while hanging out in the school’s basketball court, Sukuna turned to face you as you paced behind him while he was throwing some shots for fun.

“They think you’re my girlfriend,” he casually stated, referencing his new set of friends who always studied you with intense curiosity. 

Your face burned multiple degrees hotter than it should. 

“W-what?” You stammered. 

“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly, and you watched him dribble the basketball as the awkwardness settled.  

“That’s…that’s weird…” was all you could think of adding on. “You told them I am not, right?” 

Sukuna furrowed his brows and hummed. But he nodded his head. 

“Just because we are friends that doesn’t automatically mean that we are “boyfriend and girlfriend”,” you insisted, using air quotes to emphasize your statement. 

Sukuna turned so his back was to you, and tossed the ball directly into the ring. 

“That’s what I told them…” he reassured, but something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

The summer that followed - Sukuna’s grandfather, mom and brother took a trip away. Sukuna declined to join since he was participating in a tournament. After his wrestling team came out victorious, he decided to throw a secret bash at his place to celebrate. 

You were there helping him hide away all the fragile items, before staring at him in shock when he placed a few beer cans on his kitchen counter. 

“How did you get that?” You asked in a low whisper, afraid that you both might somehow get caught for doing something that you aren’t supposed to. 

He just gave you a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, Princess…” 

That nickname stuck on you like glue. It’s something Sukuna called you with annoyance when you were both kids, and you used to call him an angry dragon in return. Even though you stopped using that silly term, for some reason Sukuna’s pet name morphed into one of endearment and affection which he kept using. 

“It’s just the team and a couple of girls that the guys have been trying to get with…” he ensured, “The guys wanted the beers, so I managed to sneak some from my grandfather’s stash…” 

“And what if he finds out?” 

Sukuna laughs, “that old man can’t even remember what day it is. I’m sure he won’t notice a few beer cans missing…” 

That night you had your first secret party, your first sip of beer and your first kiss; it was one of those core memories that lingered that was reminiscent of the adrenaline rush from living out the freedom of being young with no responsibilities. You don’t remember who it was who called out the idea of playing seven minutes in heaven, but suddenly all of you were sitting in a circle spinning an empty bottle on Sukuna’s grandfather’s worn rug. Your heart sat at your throat, your eyes fixated on the piece of twirling glass, half wondering who it would land on. You watched as couples disappeared into Sukuna’s room, everyone snickering in a circle thinking about what the potential couples could possibly be doing. 

The boys were crude with their commentary, and the girls giggled with feign disgust. 

Some people came out looking displeased, clearly unamused by what they experienced, while others had a look of euphoria on their faces. 

When the bottle landed on you, the first person you found yourself seeking out was Sukuna. 

However, the other end of the bottle wasn’t pointing to him, but to one of his teammates. 

His friend’s eyes widen with intrigue, a cute smile forming on his pouty lips. 

Your own cheeks warmed with curiosity. 

He helped you onto your feet, but the two of you were struck with an abrupt question that had you pausing your movements. 

“Do you want to do this?” Sukuna pointedly asked, his focus on you alone and no one else. 

There was a grave but serious look resting firmly on his face. 

Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t place why. With the eyes of everyone else on you and his teammate, you instantly wanted to divert the intense attention elsewhere. 

“Of course!” You said with a casual shrug, then grabbed his teammate’s hand and led him into Sukuna’s bedroom. 

You’ve been in here countless of times, never once feeling uncomfortable in this space. But this time, you were quite aware of the state of his bed, of the slightly rumpled sheets that were tugged from edge to edge. Your mouth went dry, your body suddenly trying to recollect every movie, book and comic that explained or depicted the intimacies between two people. 

Two hands touched your waist, spinning you on your feet. 

“Time’s ticking,” his friend said. “We shouldn’t waste it…” 

“I’ve never done this before…” you blurted out. 

“I haven’t either…” he answered kindly, and that made you feel better. 

“Okay…” you said, before placing your hands awkwardly on his shoulder. 

“Let’s just start with a kiss…” he suggested and then leaned forward. 

You were frozen then, unsure of what to do. You stood there with wide eyes as you felt his lips on yours, the sensation making your belly tingle. 

He pulled away. 

“That wasn’t too bed…” you admitted and he laughed. 

“Do you want to try?” He asked. 

Your first initiated kiss wasn’t magical, nor was it horrendous as some of your other friends experienced. Even now when you think about it - the only memory that hits you is one of innocent exploration. It took a minute for you to get comfortable with his prodding tongue, to figure out the clash between lips and teeth, and to allow his wet muscle to access our mouth and glide over your own. The sensation reminded you of sticky, tacky popsicles that clung to your lips in summers past. 

It was fun…until a loud bang startled you both, making you split from each other’s arms like opposing forces. 

“Time’s up,” Sukuna growled, before barging in without even so much as asking if you were decent like he did with the other pairs. 

The look he gave his teammate was terrifying, even you couldn’t help but gulp. 

His friend let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of his head as he scurried his way out. “Damn, that was fast!” He tittered nervously, his voice cracking slightly towards the end. 

Sukuna narrowed his gaze as he watched him leave the room. Meanwhile, you both stood there facing each other, noticing his nostrils flaring as your breath rose and fell. 

“What?” You questioned, returning his hard stare with an even stronger glare. 

He huffed out a breath through his nose, “are you okay?” he asked, in an attempt to compose his clearly frazzled state. 

“Yes!” You blurted back, a little shaken. “Was that even seven minutes?” 

Sukuna grimaced, holding onto your eyes before he stormed out of his room, scoffing with annoyance at your response. 

Neither of you really spoke about the awkwardness of that moment, and instead carried into the heat of that summer like nothing even happened. 

But, what did hurt you after that, was that Sukuna never invited you to any of his “parties” again. 

He fibbed and said it was just “a team thing”, but you eventually heard about the other attendees at the party, and only through the grapevine found out about Sukuna’s first kiss.

It felt like a betrayal in its own way, this sudden shakiness in your friendship as uncertain as tectonic plates waiting to crash into a shattering earthquake. 

You called him one night to confront him, asking him why he wouldn’t tell you about his first kiss when you both should be able to talk about everything. But that conversation just resulted in an argument, a blow out that felt like a collapse in your world. 

You both didn’t speak to each other until the end of that summer, when Sukuna finally waved the white flag by crawling to your front door late one evening with some ice cream as a peace offering. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, while you both sat on the sidewalk, scooping wooden spoons into the tub of vanilla with chocolate chips. 

It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to you. 

Even when you were kids, Sukuna refused to ever say he was sorry. 

He would just pout angrily before over compensating with his sweetness to show you that he didn’t mean it. 

But not this time. 

You licked the vanilla off the spoon, biting down on the rich chocolate chunks, and hoping that the tears wouldn’t fall from your eyes from how your chest swelled at his remorse. 

Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, “I hate that things have been weird between us.” 

“You made them weird…” you mumbled and he just sighed. 

“‘Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted, “yes, I did…” 

You turned to look up at him, and he gave you a solemn smile. 

“I’m a little possessive of you, I realize…” he explained, his lips forming into that small frown, mirroring his childlike expression. 

“A little?” you answered back with a snarky tone. 

“You’re my best friend,” he admitted, his eyes downcast with regret. “You have always been my person.” 

“You’re my person too, ‘kuna…” you murmured, “but…but being best friends means that we have to trust each other. That we can’t just…hurt each other. That we should stop being honest or talking to one another when things get bad…that we can’t face things that make us…I don’t know, feel weird and stuff…” 

He rested his chin on the top of your head, the two of you finally bridging the gap of what seemed to be the first real challenge of your friendship. 

“It was a shit kiss…” he sighed, “I was just too fucking embarrassed to tell you.” 

You gazed up at him from underneath your lashes. 

“Why?” You said with a light laugh.  

Sukuna’s attention dipped to your mouth for a split second and back to your eyes again. “I don’t know. You just seemed to have enjoyed yours in comparison. I felt like I lost a game or something. I didn’t want to admit that mine was awkward and wet and just…not fucking good…” 

You laughed at that. 

“Everything with you is a competition…” 

“Not everything…” 

You nudged his stomach playfully with your elbow. “Do you remember when we played Mario Kart for the first time? When you lost three rounds in a row and nearly ripped my head off?” 

“How was I supposed to know you are freakishly good at that game?” 

You laughed, “I stay the reigning champion of rainbow road!” 

“You stay a pain in my ass…” 

You rolled your eyes, “a pain in your ass that will never leave you, so stop complaining about it…” 

Sukuna exhales, “It was…a bad kiss,” he admitted shyly, “She was so damn skittish, and I think I was too. I didn’t…I didn’t think it would be so…ugh. It was just not the right person…” 

“Or maybe you were just nervous…” you answered honestly. 

Sukuna shook his head. 

“No, I know it wasn’t the right person…” he said with confidence. 

You unraveled from his hold for a moment to look deep into those heated eyes. 

“Can I say something?” he questioned, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, a blush you’ve seen before but never realized how adorable it actually looked on him until this moment. 

“Anything”

“I don’t want you to think I am being weird or take this the wrong way…” Sukuna explained, pausing for a single breath before continuing. “I just thought the first person I would’ve kissed would have been…well, you… 

The world went still in that moment. All you could hear was the soft rustle of the trees in the distance, and all you could see was the open vulnerability of Sukuna’s heart resting on his face. 

It’s incredibly rare for him to even show it, your friend guarding that part of himself with such conviction. 

“Oh…” 

“But then I realized that you’re not supposed to be kissing your best friend,” he added on, stomping on the spark that flickered between you both before it even had a chance to even light. 

“No,” you agreed quickly, your eyes darting to the tub of ice cream. You pressed the back of your spoon into the creamy texture, doing your best to ignore the sudden pulse in your chest. 

“My second kiss was a lot better that’s for sure…” Sukuna rambled on, digging his spoon around yours as he scooped himself another serving of ice cream. “Way better actually…and on round three I think I got the hang of it…” 

You swallowed the tiny lump in your throat. “I don’t need to know the gross details, please,” you implored, though your stomach rolled with a hint of nausea at the reality that he’s kissed more people than you expected. 

You never admitted it out loud, but the confession made you a little jealous. 

If you were an option in his head…why didn’t he just ask? 

₊ ⊹ .

. 

Sukuna lost his virginity to a freshman college student a year later when he snuck into a party with two of his former teammates. You lost yours on the night of your graduation party to the same boy you kissed for the first time. You and Sukuna were expected to attend the same university (with him obtaining a full scholarship for academic excellence), but your friend had deviated from the shared path after being scouted. The two of you commuted to see each other often, with you visiting him when he was training and him stopping by the campus whenever he had free time. 

You and Sukuna knew about the other person’s intimate lives from the stories you shared, and despite continuously being plagued with constant accusations of being “more than friends”, you both agreed never to allow that discomforting prospect to intervene with your friendship again after that terribly awkward summer.

Rather than ignore the fact that you were growing to be even more beautiful by the day, Sukuna just became extremely blunt around you. He didn’t hide his eyes checking you out, noticing how your curves were starting to fill out and how you began to mature into your own features. He confidently spoke about how attractive you were, and often boosted your ego in ways that only enhanced your own confidence. 

You enjoyed reminding him that once upon a time he thought “girls were disgusting” and “looked funny”. 

“Let’s not forget I am the first guy to marry you,” he joked, recalling a game you both used to play where you pretended to be characters from a fantasy realm. 

“Actually you were the first dragon to marry me,” you clarified, because Sukuna loathed the prospect of playing a prince. “I don’t really think it counts…” 

“Maybe not - but all these guys fawning over you are going to find out you’re some kind of monster fucker and start running in the other direction…” 

It was safe to say that the banter between you both never changed.

You on the other hand, were recognizing just how handsome Sukuna was becoming too. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times up until this point, but something about watching the definition of muscle build into his new physique, and noticing the way manhood slowly enveloped his body, began to hit you in different ways. This was especially noticeable when you would watch him train in the ring, paying attention to the fact that Sukuna wasn’t built just like any average person. It didn’t even occur to you how incredibly strong he had become until he would lift or move your body around like you were weightless and not a living, breathing human with physical mass. 

One evening, while you both were walking back to your dorm from a dinner at a cheap ramen bar, Sukuna had the audacity to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder because “you couldn’t keep up with his pace”. 

All of a sudden, you were acutely aware that the scrawny boy that you used to protect was now all grown up. 

Sukuna morphed into brick and stone, while you were merely glass. 

For some reason, it put a strain on your heart. 

You guys really weren’t kids anymore. 

This was only solidified a year and a half into his career when Sukuna fought in his first professional tournament at twenty years old. The man dominated the ring against his opponent. He broke the record of the most knock outs and became a household name almost overnight. 

“The King”

Time moved at double speed after that. 

Your fingers that were clinging to bits of nostalgia weren’t able to keep them from it slipping between your grasp. Things were happening in a blur, and the sudden shift in Sukuna’s world felt like a birthing black hole in your own.

The night before Sukuna was flying off on his first world tour, the two of you were cooped up in your dorm room, snuggled underneath the blanket like you used to be when you were both kids. 

This time, it wasn’t awkward. 

You had both experienced love and lust in different ways up until that point. 

You knew that being this close didn’t have to mean anything risqué. 

You were comfortable with yourselves far more than you were five years ago.

“It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time,” you whispered with a sniffle, while Sukuna traced the shell of your ear. 

Two silver chains mirrored one another, one on your neck and the other on his. It was your parting gift to him, a reminder to keep a piece of each other around when you couldn’t be together. 

You assumed Sukuna would find it stupid, but instead he clasped the necklace around himself before doing the same for you in silent contemplation. 

“I’ll keep in touch, brat” he soothed, but you could hear the ache in his voice too.

You circled your arms around his neck, eagerly clinging onto him as closely as you could for the little time you had. 

“I am really proud of you though,” you spoke, your shaky breath against his collar bone, a tear rolling down your cheek as you inhaled the herby scent of his soap. 

“I’m paying off your loans when the money really starts rolling in,” he chuckled against your temple. 

You shook your head with disapproval. “Just buy your grandpa something nice,” you insisted. “And make sure to spoil Yuji…” 

“That kid’s already spoiled…”

“But he’s a sweetheart,” you emphasized, “and I know he’s probably going to miss you more than me…” 

Sukuna hummed. “I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

You tilted your chin up as he dropped his head down, your noses merely inches apart. You relaxed the muscles on your face, your thumb reaching to smooth the crease from between his brows. 

“God knows what would have happened if you didn’t save my sorry ass back when we were kids…” he said with an easy smile. 

“You would have eventually fought back,” you giggled, “besides, you don’t need me protecting you anymore…” you pointed out, your voice a little breathless, and your anxious mind running on the concern of if you might even fit into Sukuna’s new life after this. 

He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into the seam of his frame. 

“I always need you,” he confessed, and those words were enough to make you break as the pain of his departure finally collided into you. 

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna went off to having an extremely successful boxing career. 

At twenty-two, he had turned into one of the hottest sports stars the industry has ever seen. 

He had win after his win under his belt, and the second he partnered with Uraume it was a match made in heaven. 

He was insanely good, and with Uraume by his side, he was now unstoppable. 

You were provided tickets to any of his fights, accompanied with private transportation and accommodation if necessary. Sukuna always made sure that you were well take care of, and you always accepted because it was the only time you were able to actually see him. Those few days were precious together, before you had to depart and return to the real world once again. Each of Sukuna’s fights was a mesmerizing experience. There was something about his flow in the ring that managed to make everything else around him blur. 

He was strong, but agile. 

Brutal but swift with his movements. 

He moved with regal precision, a dancer that understood the rhythms of strength. 

Everyone challenged him, but all of them failed. 

Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. 

Despite the distance, you and Sukuna always made a conscious effort at keeping in touch with each other. You may not be physically there in each other’s presence, but not a day went by without a phone call or multiple texts.

At twenty-seven, Sukuna was at the peak of his stardom. Your best friend found himself tangled between the world of fame and fortune, alongside his old life of normalcy and humble peace. He made good on his promises; setting up a trust fund to ensure that Yuji was well taken care of in every capacity. He paid off all your loans in secret because he knew you would never accept it from him upfront. He bought his grandfather a home in Osaka for him to retire to. And his peace offering to his mom was renovating their old, broken home into something new and vibrant for her to live her life happily now that she seemed to have finally settled down in her third marriage. Sukuna even offered to take care of his step brother, Choso. They may not have been personally close, but he was grateful that Choso was keeping a watchful eye on Yuji. 

Your own life was starting to unfurl as well - you had graduated university, were experiencing your first serious relationship, navigating various friendships and landing your first job. It all felt normal compared to Sukuna, but the man never minimized your experiences. 

When you were together, it’s like nothing had even changed, but the moment your realities bled into each other, it was a constant reminder of how just how far apart your lives actually were. 

You were harassed by the paparazzi who constantly overstepped. 

Sukuna’s boundaries were crossed by the people you knew because everyone wanted a moment with the star. 

You found yourself in environments with the rich whose beauty, wealth and status seemed far out of your reach. 

Sukuna found himself being treated more like an object than a person. 

And yet, you both seemed to be settling down into your own versions of the life you were creating - always weaving the other person in no matter the obstacle.

At twenty-eight, Sukuna had earned more money than he could even imagine, and was still somehow only moving onwards and up. He was plastered on every magazine cover, was the the center of attention on social media by his most dedicated and loyal fans. He was stalked and obsessed over, admired and feared. Networks wanted to feature him on shows, movies and every talk show. The man was a composition of everything that people were projecting onto him. 

He had become an untouchable to the eyes of every living mortal. 

But to you, and just you - he would always be the little boy who was far too small for this big world. 

After years of flings with influencers, models, and high end socialites - it seemed that Sukuna was finally settling down with one of the top actresses in the industry. The moment the two of them were caught kissing at a party, their secret was revealed to the public. 

You, however, knew all the details of the ways in which Sukuna was slowly wooing her. 

At this point you’ve both grown tolerant of hearing about the other person’s love life. And at this time especially, you weren’t affected by Sukuna’s first serious relationship because you and your boyfriend were discussing the possibility of marriage which felt close on the horizon.  You had just bought your first house, and was considering the big gesture of having him move in with you. You had gotten an incredible promotion at work, and for the first time you felt a sense of stability that you had never really experienced before. 

“We should have dinner together!” You offered one night to Sukuna over the phone. 

“The four of us?” He questioned. 

“Yeah, I mean…you know Sousuke really well…” 

“Yeah, and he hates me…” 

“But I haven’t met Mei yet…and no, Sousuke doesn’t “hate you”…”

“I hate to break it to you, Princess. But the guy can’t stand me…” 

You glanced towards your boyfriend who was sitting on the sofa, his attention on the television show he was watching. You stepped away from the living room, and quietly made your way to the bedroom. 

“’kuna…” you spoke, your throat catching, “I think…I think he might propose…” 

“What?!” He exclaimed and you had to pull the phone away. 

“Jeez! Don’t shout! You’re going to make me pop an ear drum!” 

He groaned. 

You sighed, “we’ve been talking about it…and I just…I just really want you guys to get along is all.  I just think you guys are just not seeing eye to eye…” 

Sukuna remained oddly quiet on the phone. 

“Can you say something?” You begged. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, “we can do dinner at my place. The paparazzi have been hounding me trying to get any shot they can find of me and Mei. I would rather we don't go anywhere public...” 

You smiled, “dinner is perfect!” 

At first glance, the dinner seemed like a complete success. 

The four of you chatted and enjoyed your night like you were all old friends, especially after Sousuke got over his starstruck moment when he met Mei. You and Sukuna told stories of your years together, inviting your partners to the pieces of your lives that you both shared. You could see that Sukuna was clearly attracted to Mei, and in turn he could see that you were happy with Sousuke. The night felt like a convergence without an implosion - an easy going settlement on the two roads that you and your friend had taken. 

That’s why when your boyfriend called things off with you three months later, it took you completely by surprise. 

Nothing in this world could have prepared you for that heartbreak. 

It was a grieving period, a dark time of mourning that had you glued to your bed most days. This life that you had been carefully piecing together toppled like dominos. After breaking the news to Sukuna, you spent two weeks isolating yourself from anything and everything else. 

Your best friend couldn’t stand seeing you in this state, and showed up at your door out of the blue one evening.

You burst into tears at the sight of him.

He was there to mend your broken heart, and he never left your side. He told his team that he was taking a much needed break, and during that time made sure that you were fed and comfortable. He handled any extra chores, slept on the floor in your bedroom every night so that you weren’t alone. He spent hours with you in silence while you wept, listened to you angrily vent your frustrations on how your ex could treat you this way. 

One night, he woke up and realized that you weren’t in bed. He searched for you, finding you in the kitchen staring at a small pile of bridal magazines. 

Your clothes were rumpled, you hadn’t changed or freshened up since that morning. 

Sukuna didn’t say anything, just placed two hands on your shoulders and turn you away from the painful memories. 

You gasped and hiccuped into his chest. 

“I couldn’t sleep…” you explained, “I r-remembered that I still had these, and just…just wanted them gone…” 

Sukuna tenderly stroked the back of your neck. “You know,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean itself, the tone the texture of velvet. “I can always break his fucking legs…” 

The comment made you choke out a laugh. 

“It’ll ruin your career,” you whimpered. “It’s not worth it…” 

“For you,” he soothed, his thumb lightly tracing the space where the base of your neck and spine connected. “It’s always worth it” 

₊ ⊹ .

The blunder in Sukuna’s career hit early last year, when his relationship with Mei fell apart and resulted in one of the worst break ups that people have ever seen. Mei released a public, viral video that had millions of views and thousands of shares. She accused Sukuna of cheating for the entirety of their two year relationship, crying crocodile tears on camera over how she was simply another trophy that he could successfully claim while his heart always belonged to someone else. 

That video made your blood boil. 

You knew Sukuna wasn’t perfect - but if there was one thing you would never doubt about that man it was his loyalty. 

You saw it towards grandfather, to Yuji, to Uraume, and even yourself. 

That man scoffed at the prospect of cheating, believing it to be a cowardice act. 

And Sukuna was no coward. 

Even in prior relationships, he was always clear about where he stood. If he couldn’t commit to something, he made it perfectly known. You still didn’t know what it was about Mei that had him finally let his walls down. But when they were together, he looked perfectly content. Every desire and every fantasy he dreamt up in his youth had finally been accomplished. But all you knew about their break up was that things weren’t working out, and Sukuna wasn’t willing to share more than that. 

You were being respectful of his privacy, understanding firsthand how tough this kind of heartbreak can be. 

He called you when the Mei's video first broke out, his voice strained. 

“You know it’s not true, right?” He questioned before even saying hello. 

“Ryo, of course I know that-” 

“I’m not a little bitch who would cheat. I would never do that. Nor am I that fucking stupid thinking I would ever get away with it-”

“I know…” you reassured, hearing the apprehension laced through his words. “Ryomen, I know you. I know you better than anyone else in this world.”

He breathed a long sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if you might have been convinced otherwise”  

Your stomach tightened. 

“But if you believe me, then I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.” 

Something about that conversation clung onto you, it sat like a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t quite possibly shrug off. The tabloids, news outlets and social media accounts were throwing ingredients upon ingredients into the rumor pot that was bubbling and boiling over. On top of that, a new rising star had just entered the boxing world, and Sukuna was suddenly dealing with brutal comparisons to the younger, hotter talent that was Satoru Gojo. 

You were the one who offered to take him out to dinner to get his mind off of things, not realizing just how bad it actually was for him. 

When a gossip magazine posted the photos of you both huddled together (as you have done many times before) while having an ordinary dinner, it spun your world inside and out. Though the pictures were quite blurry, there were a few people who were able to recognize you. You were being harassed at your work, interrogated by your friends and were even being accused of being “the other woman”.

The worst part is was when Mei fed into the chaos, making a follow up post and stating that “a woman always knows, and is always right” in regards to her break up situation with Sukuna.

She may not have explicitly said it, but her fingers were pointing at you.  

You don’t know how your address got leaked, but when you started finding paparazzi stalking you in your own home it became far too much for you to handle. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, was infuriated. 

This whole time he was disengaged by what was going on, but once you were caught in the mix of this mess, it seemed that he was suddenly ready to cause equal destruction. 

He sued his ex for defamation, sued multiple media outlets for harassment. He had Higuruma Hiromi, one of the top lawyers in his field, at the helm of this take down, and the second he shot back, it had everyone scurrying in retreat. 

The tabloids, blogs and magazines all redacted the photos of you, reducing your digital footprint. 

His ex, under pressure of Sukuna’s threats, came out with a public apology so that he would drop the charges against her and help her avoid her own PR nightmare. 

The rest of Sukuna’s anger was taken out on the ring, with people seeing another side of what The King could unleash. 

His match against Hajime Kashimo was one of the bloodiest in boxing history, his opponent left crimson and defeated despite seemingly holding a strong front in the beginning. 

They dubbed him: “The Monster of The Ring” after that. 

The damage was already done, and the stress of it all was starting to hurt Sukuna’s focus. When he nearly got disqualified in a match, that is when Uraume intervened, and felt it was necessary to include you in the discussion. 

You’ve always had a complicated relationship with Uraume. They respected you, but you know it’s only because of your mutual relationship with Sukuna. Uraume, however, has made snide remarks  towards you when you were both alone - about how you were merely a distraction when dangled in front of his champion’s eyes.

“I think some time apart would do you both good,” they said. “They are never going to stop hounding you because they think there is something more going on, and besides…we can’t have Sukuna fucking up with Gojo now in the mix. We need to show the world that he’s still as strong and as relevant as ever…” 

“It’ll die down,” Sukuna stated with frustration. 

The both of them bickered over it. It was the first time you have ever witnessed them in a heated exchanged. Your heart started to hurt because you were aware how all of this was only making your best friend see in shades of red. 

He wasn’t himself. 

He wasn’t thinking clearly. 

This was impacting him.  

You getting involved in this was impacting him. 

“Ryomen,” you said seriously, placing your hand over his. “I think Uraume is right…” 

The man turned to you, his fingers lacing between your own subconsciously as he squeezed it tightly in disbelief. 

It was the first time you’ve ever seen him hurt. 

“It’s just a short time apart,” you said with a comforting smile, “once everyone gets bored we can resume our lives in peace. But right now, I can see this taking a toll on you…” 

He furrowed the front of his brows. 

“Uraume is looking out for you, and I think what they are saying makes sense. Don’t you?” 

“No, I fucking don’t…” he snapped, his eyes glaring at his manager who remained stoic as ever. 

“Don’t let your emotions get the better of you,” they remarked, “I know a part of you agrees with what I have to say.” 

“You’re not in the right state of mind, and you need to be” 

“It’s for your own good,” Uraume insisted. "You are gambling with your career. With your legacy"

The decision was mutual but entirely heartbreaking all the same. Sukuna drew the circus away, and it broke you when you realized that in order to protect you, he had to sacrifice something in return. 

The comfort of your friendship, the sanctuary of your company.

It was the price of fame, and one that he was willing to keep paying. 

As a result of this tough decision, Sukuna had grown cold. Not because he was being mean or cruel, but because he thought he was offering you some peace of mind. Because he thought that by withdrawing from you, it would make the pain of the separation easier. He wanted this distance to be a clean break for the both of you, and while he honored keeping in touch, it was just at the bare minimum because his calls and texts were few and far between. 

The most you saw of him was on a screen, and you could see that Sukuna was miserable. 

He was turning into something vicious in the ring, a violent machine that people glorified. He wasn’t moving with the fluidity of an artist that you used to admire when you first started watching him fight. There was a sense of brutality that was now a part of his make up. 

Sukuna was no longer a man, he was a beast. 

His persona was dwindling into only intimidation. Every interview, every guest appearance, and every social occasion was met with detachments or disinterest. He was growing snarky and irritable, no longer willing to charm the people around him. 

Satoru Gojo was the first to shoot at Sukuna with his words, dredging up his painful break up and even dragging you back into the fold with his commentary. The two of them grew to have a very intense rivalry. They exchanged heated arguments on social media, smack talked the other person in live interviews and had tense interactions in public. 

The press and the people were eating up every single second of it.

On the eve of his thirty-first birthday, you received a call from Uraume. 

“We are back in the city,” they said, “Sukuna needs to start training up for his match against Satoru Gojo.” 

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. 

“Why didn’t he tell me he was back?” You asked softly. 

Uraume sighed, “I don’t have to tell you that he’s been in a fowl mood. The agency is throwing a huge birthday party for him tonight which he is refusing to attend…” 

“So, why are you calling me?” 

“Because…” Uraume sighed, “he’s about to fly to close to the sun, and I can see he needs an anchor to bring him down to Earth a little bit…” 

Your cheeks burned at the statement. “Are you saying I am his anchor?” 

“I am saying it’s been almost a year since he last saw you…” Uraume explained, “And I don’t want him feeling awful on his birthday. I care about him too, you know?” 

You nodded your head, “No, of course. I know that.” 

“I told him that I would stop by to pick him up for the party, but I think giving him a nice surprise might do him so good. Remind the guy to enjoy himself a little…” 

“You’re sweet,” you said with a smile. 

“As are you, my dear,” Uraume replied tenderly. 

“My, my, are you actually giving me a compliment?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” they remarked playfully, and you felt a hint of ease realizing that things might not be as cold between you both as you thought. 

That Uraume was really only ever considering Sukuna's well being first, just like you.

₊ ⊹ .

Uraume made sure that you got to Sukuna’s place in one piece and without anyone knowing that you were even there. You clasped your best friend's present between your fingers, your exposed body shivering from the cold air as you rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment.

It felt right to dress up; you wore a white mini dress with a mesh overlay that had little embroidered detailing on the fabric. There were cut outs in the back, with an adjustable strap from behind cinching the bodice perfectly to your shape. Your kitten heels clicked against the floor, the nerves suddenly tingling their way up your legs as you thought about what Sukuna’s reaction might even be. 

This year felt like a century in the timeline of your friendship. 

You knocked on his door gently, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

You could hear the trudge of footsteps from behind the frame, Sukuna’s voice bellowing as he spoke. 

“Uraume, for the last fucking time, I told you I am not going, and if you force it I will fire you on the spot-” 

He swung the door open and froze. 

“Surprise!” You squeaked lightly, awkwardly lifting the gift in your hands. “I got you a present!” 

Sukuna blinked once and then twice, his lips parting as if he’s seen a ghost. 

“Uraume asked me to come,” you explained. “They told me that you guys were back…” 

He stood there dumbfounded, for once rendered completely speechless. 

You cleared your throat, feeling a warmth rippling over your skin as the man gave you a once over. His eyes flickered down your body, hovering over all the parts of your exposed skin. Your bare thighs, your décolletage, and up the nape of your neck. 

“T-they wanted you to have fun on your birthday,” you added on with an apprehensive grin, “they actually suggested maybe a quiet night in and thought you might just want to spend it with an old friend instead of a bunch of people you probably don’t even like…” 

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a firm line. 

He looked…upset. 

Was he not happy to see you? 

“Uhm,” you mumbled, your fingers toying with the ribbon at the odd dismissal and lack of enthusiasm, “I-I don’t have to stay, but I did just want to wish you a happy birthday…” 

You took a small step forward, holding the present up as an offering. “Happy birthday, ‘Kuna…” you said with a quiet warble in your voice and feeling like a complete idiot for showing up. The disappointment of his response sat heavily on your chest.

He lifted his hand, gripping the present as he plucked it out of your grasp. You cleared your throat, anxiously scratching the back of your ear as you lifted up the strap of your dress which fell on your right shoulder. 

“I’ll just…” you added on in defeat, gesturing behind you to indicate that you were leaving. 

You didn’t even notice his arm sling behind your waist when your eyes fell downcast. 

Suddenly you were pulled over the threshold, the door closing behind you in a bang before your back was pressed up against the wooden frame. Your gaze lifted up to Sukuna, your pupils widening when you you were met with his menacing stare. 

“You know,” you said with a gulp, hoping to the ease the tension as you tried to catch your breath. “You really do look like a dragon when you scowl like that…” 

“Are you stupid?” He spat with irritation. “What if someone saw you come over? We just got the press off our backs…” 

Your pulse hit the base of your throat. “Uraume ensured that no one was around…” 

“I thought we agreed to take time apart…” he argued, ignoring your words. “You agreed.” 

“You’re mad...” You pointed out, the tip of your nose wincing as you pursed your lips. 

“I’m not mad, I’m furious…” he said with irritation. “I’m trying to keep you out of this fucking chaos and you just waltz in, in this sorry excuse of a dress, like everything is perfectly fine?!” 

You looked down at your outfit, and folded your arms over your chest. 

“I…” you spoke, your voice trailing off as your shoulders slumped. 

You didn’t even know if you should apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong and this wasn’t even your idea to begin with. You’ve also never seen Sukuna speak to you this way before, and your confidence bubbled when you recognized that this...wasn’t him. 

You straightened your back, tilting your chin up to face him with defiance. 

You’re the only person in the world who willingly challenges him. 

You don’t even have to raise a fist to watch him break. 

He was pushing you away, the same way he did when you found him on the ground of that kindergarten because that’s what Sukuna does when he’s hurting the most. 

“God, you’re just as miserable as look…” you pointed out with a quirk of your brow. 

His jaw twitched. 

“I don’t give a shit who catches me here,” you boldly claimed, “I miss my best friend…” you added before shoving his shoulder, “and you, you asshole, have no excuse for not telling me that you are back home. Just because I agreed to us spending some time apart, that doesn’t mean you get to just...cut me off like that. To not call me, to barely answer my texts, and to just push me away like I don’t matter to you…” 

Sukuna winced, taking a step closer to seal the gap of space between you both. He brought his head lower, dipping his forehead to press against your own. Your spine seized in that moment, your lips parting feeling the heat of his breath on your skin. 

You were expecting a rebuttal, but this…this wasn’t what you thought would happen. 

“You are a pain in my ass…” he whispered, closing his eyes as he circled his free arm around your waist, “and the only thing that matters to me…” 

He nudged his face closer, so close you swore to yourself that he might kiss you, before tracking his lips along your jaw and cradling his forehead in the crook of your neck instead. 

Your right hand moved him to touch his shoulder, your face contorting with a hint of concern. 

You felt it then, something wet on your skin where his forehead lay, and you took in a sharp breath as Sukuna tightened his arm around your waist. 

“You shouldn’t have come…” he took a deep inhale against your neck, smelling your skin before clearing his throat from any shakiness. 

“You said that already…” you grumbled unamused. 

“Stubborn woman, you never listen...” he breathed in once more, “God, I fucking missed you.” 

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna opened his present once everything was settled, and once he finally embraced the reunion without questioning any other factors. He laughed at your little DIY stress kit that you put together for him. You both ordered in pizza, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa with the open cardboard box between you. You talked, and talked, and talked into the late hours of the night.  Until there were only crumbs on the bottom of the box which Sukuna placed on the coffee table. The bottle of champagne that you have both been nursing was nearly empty. 

Drunk on each other, with a belly full of food and simplistic joy settling in. Sukuna leaned against the arm rest, sprawling his long legs and patting his thigh sweetly. 

“C’mere…” 

Your heart hammered, and you bit the rim of your champagne glass before obliging. 

You stood up, swaying a little and watching his hungry eyes blatantly check you out as you sat on his lap. Sukuna adjusted his position, before dropping his palm on your thigh, his touch stroking up and down your skin. 

“What’s going on with you?” You inquired, placing your elbow on his shoulder as you rested your warm cheek against your palm. 

You were looking at him with concern, noticing his face sink. 

He rubbed one hand over the exhausted expression, an intoxicated blush painting his cheeks. 

“The press are worse than ever. After Mei, it’s been…relentless. The stories they are coming up with, the things that they are saying about me. I went from being on top of the world to being the guy everyone loves to fucking hate. And with every fight I go into, people are just waiting for me to wash up. The cherry on top of this whole fucking thing is Satoru Gojo, who won’t stop running his fucking mouth. I want cut the little shit in half…” 

You smiled, not to be condescending, but out of gratitude that you both easily slipped back into the shell of your own comfort. “Ryomen, he’s twenty-one years old. Do you not remember how you were at that age?” 

He rolled his eyes. “I had more class than he did…” 

“But you were aggressive,” you reminded, “You weren’t afraid to tear down the legends that predated you.” 

“So, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that maybe Satoru drew inspiration from somewhere…” 

You placed the champagne glass on his chest, your fingers holding the stem as you swirled the liquid around gently. The silence hung in the air because Sukuna knew you were right, but there were other lingering questions pressing you at the same time. And thanks to the alcohol, you had all the courage you needed to ask.

“What happened with Mei?” You wondered, shifting your gaze to meet his. 

Sukuna’s index finger tapped up and down your thigh in contemplation. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Nothing.” 

You quirked your brow again, taking a swig of your champagne. 

Sukuna used his free hands to wrap around your own, and he pulled the glass away from you to take a sip himself. 

“Why won’t you tell me?” 

He chugged the rest of your drink, and placed it on the ground beside him. 

“Ryomen…” 

“Don’t push me, brat…” 

“But why not?” You wondered, “I just…it just seemed like you both were so happy and then all of a sudden…” 

He dropped his head back against the arm rest and stared up at the ceiling. From underneath his black shirt you saw the silver chain poking through. 

Your heart tightened. 

You drew one hand on the locket, your finger curling underneath as your thumb tracked over the texture of the necklace. 

“You’re still wearing it…” you mumbled. 

Sukuna faced you. “I never take it off. Only when I have to get in the ring…” His eyes shifted to your exposed, naked neck, and you mindlessly reached for the silver chain that you were currently not wearing. 

“I don’t wear it on certain occasions…” you explained guiltily, “only because I am afraid that I might lose it.” 

“Plus, it wouldn’t go with this dress...” Sukuna nonchalantly added on and you laughed at his comment. 

He sighed in defeat. “The necklace was a small reason,” he opened up. “Mei hated that I wore it all the time. She would badger me about taking it off. The time I spent with you after Sousuke didn’t help…” he added, treading the delicate topic with as much sensitivity as he could, “she accused me for cheating. I told her she needed to back off because you and I had a history that predates her. I told her that if the roles were reversed, you would be there for me because you have always been there for me…” 

Your body froze. 

“She would pick fights with me over everything about you. Finally I had enough, and told her she needed to fucking trust me if this was going to work. But things never went back to the way they used to. It was always up and down with Mei. Finally, when she had enough, she told me that I had a choice to make. Either I cut you off for us to happily together. Or…she leaves…” 

You sat up, staring at him with wide eyes and shock.  

“I’m…” you gasped, “I’m the reason why you both broke up?��� 

The guilt struck you harder than you expected, and you looked down at Sukuna’s torso shamefully as you recalled the state of yourself post-break up, thinking of all the moments where you might have potentially stolen precious time away from his former lover. 

“Ryomen, I am so…I am so sorry…” 

Two fingers brushed underneath your chin, and Sukuna lifted your head so you could see him. 

“I picked you,” he confessed, “I picked you.” 

“But-” 

“There is no “but”,” he said with a shake of his. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for over two decades. You are my person. You are my family. You…”, he sighed, “you didn’t deserve what happened afterwards...”

His hands trailed up until his digits caught the hem of your dress. 

“I’m keeping my distance to protect you..."

“But you loved her,” you gasped, “I saw it. I saw you both. I would’ve…I would’ve stepped aside. If I was causing any issues, I would’ve…respected your boundaries. I love you, Ryomen. I just want you to be happy, and if that means that I take a step back-” 

“I did love her,” Sukuna interjected, the heat of gaze flicking upward, the rims slightly red from the alcohol he consumed. “But I love you more…” 

He drew all the air out of your lungs with the slip of his tongue, making you perch yourself up so you were actually looking directly at him. His pupils were dilated, widening as if to give you access to the depths of his soul. In all your years you’ve known him, you don’t think the two of you ever actually exchanged those words. It was always veiled with “I care for you,”, “I adore you,” “You’re my person,” and “this is why we are best friends.” 

But love… 

That felt forbidden to say out loud, even though you both knew that the root of your friendship was only built on love, it shouldn't have come as such a shock to you for the confession to slip so naturally.

You gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, in a way that you haven’t since you were both sixteen years old. 

Wondering…

Considering…

“I don’t…” you said quietly, sitting upright as he shifted beneath you. 

You wound up straddling him, both your hands resting on his shoulders while his own continued to tease the hem of your dress. 

“I don’t know what to say…” you exhaled. 

Sukuna pinched the fabric between his thumb and index finger, allowing the silence to hang for a few minutes before switching the subject. 

“Did you dress up for me?” He joked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his devilish mouth. He slid one hand underneath your dress, making you gasp as his touch moved dangerously high up your thigh. 

“Wanted to look cute,” you murmured, your words lacing tightly together as the champagne danced across your tongue. You felt a pulse radiate between your legs, and you unknowingly clenched much to Sukuna’s amusement.  

“Cute for me?” He coaxed. 

“Cute in general,” you remarked. 

His other hand sprawled across your back, and you knew he was testing his boundaries.

“Ryomen…” you warned, but it only made him break out into a full grin. His irises were drowning in lust and inebriation, and your own were falling in suit. 

The hand on your hip dragged up further, until his fingers brushed over the string of your underwear. You scratched your nails down his chest, feeling your back arch into his palm as you mindlessly rolled your hips.

His lips moved to your ear, that mellifluous voice dangerously close. “Let’s play a game…” 

He squeezed the fat of your hip, his weight lifting you up and the entire room spun as he pinned you underneath him when he switched your positions. He locked you against the plush sofa with his thighs, a throaty laugh coming through from your sudden squeak of surprise. 

“Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Princess...” He teased, his teeth nipping at the side of your throat. “Or you’ll end up being my dinner…” 

Your body vibrated from the sensation of his touch. You gripped his jaw firmly and pulled his face towards you, your brows furrowing at the proclamation of a challenge. 

“It’s not fair to go against a boxing champion,” you argued, your spine curving as Sukuna slipped his other thigh between your legs. 

He dropped his head to the base of your throat, his teeth catching the sensitive spot just above your collar bone, “don’t worry,” he soothed over the gentle bite, “I’ll play fair…”

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled through gritted teeth. 

“You’re fault for waltzing into the dragon’s lair…” he alerted, quoting the very same line he used to when you would both play this silly fantasy game together. 

But you’re not wielding plastic swords and entering into the enemies domain with a sense of courage. Now, it felt like playing with fire. Your skin was burning at the contact, at Sukuna’s weight over your throbbing body. When he nibbled on your neck again, your hand gripped onto the back of his head, tugging his hair a little roughly as you pulled him away. 

Sukuna purred. 

“You’ve never been able to beat me…” you teased, giving into the world of make believe just one more time but speaking the truth regarding this fact. “I’ve always been your biggest challenge…” 

“Watch me win tonight,” he pushed with confidence, reaching for your wrist and pinning it above your head. 

“And what are the rules here exactly?” You quipped, your tongue tingling and your body buzzing with excitement and curiosity. “Am I supposed to kill the dragon and win back my castle?” 

Sukuna laughed, his eyes darkening as he pressed his forehead to yours once more. 

“No need to draw any swords. Let’s play a game of submission…” he boldly claimed, and your attention flickered to find his brazen smile burning even brighter on his face. “First person to cum loses” 

“Are you making a move on me?” You light heartedly disputed. 

“Not at all,” Sukuna maintained, but you can tell from his tone that he’s veiling the truth.

There was something hard pressing up against you, and you had a feeling it was a nudge for some relief. 

“It’s the dress isn’t it?” you giggle.

“If you even call it a dress…” 

“Can’t handle a little skin?” 

“I don’t want to shock you by telling you got me half hard just showing up,” he confessed, something unfolding in your drunken stupor. 

“I can feel you…” you sighed, and the man hummed as he molded his body into you.

You felt him twitch, and it made your thighs tremble. 

“We had too much champagne,” you informed. 

“That we did” 

“We should probably stop…” you exhaled, your lashes fluttering when you felt his thigh flex against your cunt. 

“Do you want to?” Sukuna asks, his voice growing serious. His hand on your hip tugs at the string of your underwear, and he releases it with a snap as it pinches back against your skin. 

You licked your lips, your brain too fuzzy to contradict what your heart wanted. “You know I will never back down from a challenge with you…” 

“That's what I like about you,” Sukuna adoringly praises. 

“And we both know you’re going to lose, right?” 

Your throat shrinks, Sukuna’s hand gliding over your pubis to press the drenched spot against your underwear. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Princess,” he advices ominously, “we’ve never played a game like this before.” 

₊ ⊹ .

Clothes had to stay on - that was the rule you both agreed with. 

To keep things fair. 

To keep it…playful. 

Your nipples pebbled, poking hard against the fabric of your dress as Sukuna sucked on the skin of your neck. You knew for a fact that he was leaving a mark there, and all you could do was bite back as his mouth trailed down the column and over the slope of your breast. You whimpered when he tugged at your clothed nipple with with his teeth, making the muscles in your leg seize from the sudden contact. 

You had to do something, and so you reached your hand between your legs to lightly graze over his erection pressing against his sweats. 

Sukuna groaned, and you sniggered at the reaction. 

You lifted your head and neck, bringing your mouth to his own ear. 

“You know,” you seductively stated, your fingers outlining the length of his hard member. “The first time I ever touched myself was after watching you practice in the ring…” 

Sukuna cursed under his breath, your fingers squeezed around his length. You proceeded to stroke the heat of his member, striking hard for your first blow. “And I always do whenever I watch you fight. I get so hot and bothered seeing you in the ring. I even have a a specific vibrator I use…I named it after you…” 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed when you snuck your hand underneath his waistband, bringing your touch even closer as you palmed him over his boxers. 

“I’ve never told you that secret…” you declared, bringing your own teeth to his earlobe which you tugged mercilessly. 

Sukuna lost himself for a moment, making you think this was going to be an easy win. But you heard him steady his breathing, could his muscles flexing as if to tame his own body back from giving in.  

“I heard you once…” he stammered suddenly, closing his eyes as he recollected his memories. “Back when you were living in the dorm. I came over to drop off something, and you…ugh, fuck-…you were in the bathroom…moaning. I thought you were in pain at first, until I realized…” 

Your own cheeks burned at his confession, the surprise making you ease your grip. 

Sukuna grabbed your wrist then and pulled you away from his crotch. He placed it on your breast, and you absentmindedly pinched your nipple as he slid his hand between your legs. He lowered himself down, slithering underneath you and making your ears sting with vexation. He pushed your dress over your thighs, exposing your light colored underwear. The noticeable wet patch made his eyes glitter with satisfaction. 

“I would have jacked off on the spot, but I left. I was clearly intruding on a private matter, but that didn’t stop me from blowing a load the second I made it to my place,” he carries on, bringing his nose and pressing it against your slit. “So fucking sweet…” 

You tried to push his head away, and in response he dragged his tongue over the moist patch on your underwear. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your hips bucking from the sensation. 

“You’re the first person I think of when I touch myself,” he revealed, humming as his tongue lewdly licked over your underwear. 

Your whole lower belly tingled, your arousal only slicking the fabric. 

You needed to distract him from carrying on, but Sukuna hooked two fingers underneath your underwear and tugged them to the side. 

You sat up on your forearms, pressing your thighs against his cheeks to stop him from diving in. 

“Don’t cheat,” you sternly addressed, but Sukuna only scoffed vindictively. 

“You’re still wearing them, Princess…” he pointed out, and the loophole made your core pulse with anticipation. “This isn’t cheating…” 

With your panties tugged aside, Sukuna used two fingers to spread the lips apart. 

He was staring at your pussy, studying it like it was the first one he’s ever looked at. 

You wanted to say something, to ask what he was doing. But to your surprise he just placed a gentle kiss on your clit before murmuring sweetly into your sex. “You’re beautiful,” Sukuna complimented, as if expressing a blessing before a meal then finally dragging his wet tongue up along the slit of your exposed pussy. 

“You’re ch-cheating…” was all you could think of blubbering out in the haze of lust, feeling the vibration of his laugh as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder. 

It hits you then - the fact that this man indulges in going down on women. Though he never explicitly shared all the lewd details with his past partners, he did mention how it was “his favorite thing to do”. After all these years, you finally get to experience it for yourself. Feel how he latches onto your pussy as your arousal drips like he’s pouring honey out of the jar and slurping the sticky, creamy essence. You whine when he prods his tongue between your folds, expertly sliding the muscle as he rolls it in gentle waves to stir a budding orgasm. Your fingers intertwine around his locks, reading to yank him off until he slurps and sucks in just the right spot that has you simply massaging his scalp instead. 

“…’kuna~…” you mewl, your nails dragging over his scalp. 

The man circles his mouth over your tender clit, sucking on the bud before pressing another kiss on the nub. 

Your pussy throbs when he pulls away, but you were proud for holding back. 

It was your opportunity to distract him, and you shrugged off one of your straps to pull down your dress to expose your left breast. Sukuna’s attention flickered upward, watching you tweak at the hard nub as you gave him a shy grin. 

“The felt really good,” you breathily whined. 

He began crawling his way back up, and you used this opportunity to lift your body upright. He was distracted, wasn't even thinking about you finding a way out of this position. His lips instantly latched onto your nipple, his hands gripping the fat of your ass as he sucked on the point feverishly. 

You licked your lips, doing everything in your power not to fall back into the black hole of his gripping dominance.

When he released you, you instantly pushed his back against the couch and climbed on top of him so you were safely straddling him again. You forcefully dragged your wet cunt over his erection, leaving a little trail of you to stain the fabric of his pants. Sukuna grunted with pleasure, bucking his hips as you ground yours. 

“You’re not as sharp with me,” you giggled, languidly gliding your cunt over his begging member. 

“Because you’re fucking distracting,” Sukuna grieves, his hands clenching into tight balls by his side as he refuses to grab onto your ass and push for more friction. 

You felt him sink, using his shoulders as leverage to keep you perched in just the right position so your pussy was rubbing over his cock. You bit back a sound of pleasure from leaving you, and instead exhale softly as you continue rocking back and forth. 

“You’re big everywhere aren’t you,” you tantalized, noting the way his jaw tense as a rumble erupted from his chest in a deep groan which morphed into a slightly sinister laugh. 

“Let me show you.” 

He lifted his hips, making you pause at the sudden awkward shift. He pushed his sweat pants down just to meet the end of his boxers. The removal of the first layer was a small relief, but your eyes widened as he settled back down. His erection was tenting, pressing up against the thin black material and making you see a clear distinction of his balls and thick shaft. 

“Go on then,” he tempted. 

Your could feel yourself getting wet. The tightness in your belly only contracting further. 

You stared him down, knowing full well that he was manipulating you at that very moment. 

“Why stop there?” You rebutted. 

You helped pulled out the weight of his heavy cock from the restraint, watching his length smack against his lower belly as the tip dribbled with cum. Sukuna moaned when your thumb pressed against the slit, your touch dragging back and forth as you aligned yourself. 

The sounds of your panting breaths were far too loud in this quiet room. You hesitated for a minute before lowering yourself, pressing the fat tip at your entrance. You gulped down air from the stretch alone, your arousal enough lubricant for your take him. You sank, your attention on Sukuna’s whose eyes were honed in on the point of contact of your sexes. 

When your pelvis finally kiss his own, when your bodies were merged into one, you felt two hands seek your waist as you trembled in his arms. 

Your dress had fallen back over, covering him buried inside you. You were looking up at him now as his chest rose to press yours.

A puzzle piece finally connecting. 

He twitched inside you, and you clenched around his length, but neither of you moved. You forgot, for a moment, that this was just a game. That the two of you were probably going to wake up tomorrow morning not being able to face the other person. Your heart was racing, your body begging for movement but you couldn’t snap yourself out of the bold decision you already made. 

Sukuna was looking deep into our eyes, the sparkle behind his own irises making you think of embers on winter night. 

His hands slipped up your waist, over the curves of your breast and up on the length of your neck. He held your head between his palms, the tips of his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks, with his fingers to the back of your neck. He tilted his head down slightly, his nose brushing against the bridge of yours and he did something that caught you entirely off guard. 

His lips were warm on yours, the kiss the softest gesture you’ve ever experienced from him. He held a firm kiss at first, long enough until you were crumbling apart. You parted your mouth, granting him entrance and he swiped his tongue to lick the inside. He was tracing your own, his wet and wanting mouth only growing more hungry as you eagerly accepted his kiss. Your heart hammered heavily in your chest, and goosebumps peaked all over your skin when you felt his thumbs gently caress the soft skin of your cheeks. 

You’ve never been kissed like this before. Never felt bursts of light erupt from behind your eyelids or your stomach explode with fireworks. This always just fun foreplay for you, but nothing that would make you quiver in heat. You almost came on the spot from this one little act that you’ve imagined since you were sixteen, the one which you thought would never occur because of an unspoken rule on boundaries. But it was finally happening, and it was far too magical for you to even comprehend. 

He swallowed your moan, tasted how sweet your desire actually was. The kiss was getting heated, your walls tightening around his cock His lips wrapped around your tongue. He sucked on it, before sliding his own back over yours. 

You felt so weak; were reminded that you truly were just a fragile thing in his arms and nothing more. 

He pulled away, a string of saliva sticking from his lips to yours but you shook your head as you circled your hands around his wrists. 

“More,” you cried desperately without thinking. 

Sukuna smiled against your mouth and obliged. 

You don’t know how long you both sat there making out. But every time he tried to pull you away you sighed “again,”, or moaned “don’t stop”. You didn’t even consider kissing to be an option on the table, but the more you were getting turned on the further your guard went down. Your hips started to bounce lightly, your pussy so bothered that it wanted some relief. You started fucking yourself over his length, your mouth battling with lips, teeth and tongue in a very heated stand off. Sukuna relaxed his body against the sofa, noticing you melt over him like you were wax. Your hips were moving up and down, your tongue languidly rolling around his mouth. You could feel Sukuna moving with you, bucking his hips in return. His jerks were growing sharper, his hands dropping back down to your hips to keep you in place. Your foreheads were touching, lips parting, panting heavily as you climbed and higher. The two of you were lost in the moment, forgetting everything else that led up to this. 

You were going to lose this one, you thought, and you didn’t even care. 

Your head was spinning, your heart bursting, and you reached to hold his jaw in your hand out of desperation, hoping that by clinging to him it meant that you wouldn’t disappear into the haze of it all. Entirely overwhelmed by the feeling, by this particular connection, your eyes started to water, with tears falling as your nose grew stuffy. 

“Ryomen~” you begged, your dulcet voice full of affection. The tip of his cock hit your sweetest spot and at that point you knew you were done for. 

But Sukuna jerked his hips, the groan that ripped out of him made your belly spasm. He pulled out fast, shooting his cum all over you. Your orgasm collapsed into you just seconds after, and the two of you were shaking against one another as you tried to reorient yourselves to the present. 

You were a mess, and so was he. 

Two hands found your thighs as your torso collided into his. You placed one hand on the base of his neck, and rested your cheek against the crook.  

“You lost,” you joked with a sniffle, because you were unsure what to say, and because you realized you had just fucked your best friend and had no idea what that meant. 

Sukuna just grinned, flashing you a knowing smile and a devilish smirk. 

He perched your chin under his fingers, tapping the end sweetly. 

“Doesn’t feel like I did,” he breathed, and your eyes glittered once more. 

You arched up to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t know a dragon could kiss this well…” 

Sukuna chuckled, bumping the tip of his nose to yours affectionately as he tilted his head down. “I’ve had time to practice.” 

You sighed into another kiss, “What did we do, Ryomen?” 

“Something we should have done a long time ago…” he responded in between. 

“You love me…” you breathed. 

“And you’re surprised?” He interrupted with another kiss. 

“I don’t know what that means…” 

He nipped at your bottom lip. “It means what it means. I love you. Fuck, enough that I nearly fucking came inside you without thinking. You haven’t been around and I feel like I've lost my goddamn mind in just a year…” 

Your nails dragged down his chest your heart leaping its way up your throat. 

“I love you too,” you revealed. “I love you, Ryomen. And I missed you too."

You both fell asleep on the sofa, waking up the next morning and replaying the events of your drunken stupor. After you both cleaned up and showered, you had a serious conversation over two cups of coffee. Though, you aren’t quite sure how "serious" it was, considering that Sukuna had you sitting on his lip while you were gently stroking his hair.

He revealed that the reason why he didn’t tell you about his return was also partially due to the fact that he was leaving that very night to hop on plane and fly halfway across the world. He couldn't bring himself to see you for only a short stint when he knew he needed far more time together after everything.

“Uraume is right,” he bitterly admitted, “You are a big distraction for me right now, and I have to be in the right headspace for this fight with Gojo” 

“You sound worried,” you pointed out with a furrow of your brows, your hands dragging back his locks as you threaded your digits between the strands to push his hair back from his forehead.

“If he beats me then I am done,” Sukuna blurted, “what I have built will diminish into nothing. I can’t lose to him. It’ll cost me my career…” 

Disappointment wrapped its arms around you just as Sukuna loosened his own grip. But you could hear the hint of tiny, tiny fear behind his words was enough to you feel hollow. Sukuna has never felt threatened, but this was a serious fight for him. He’s worked so hard for all of this, and he was not willing to give it up to some punk who just shot into the scene. 

“Why don’t we revisit this after the fight then?” You offered.

He glanced at you.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." you exhaled, "what if maybe we just need to wait a little longer before we allow ourselves to have this..."

Sukuna paused for a moment. “You’d wait for me?” He asked. 

A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, because you always come back to me” 

“That I do” he responds

You brush your fingers under his chin, tilting it upward once more to receive another kiss. “I’ll wait for you,” you ensure. "Because I'll always come back to you too."

₊ ⊹ .

One hand slides into the front pocket of your denim skirt, and Sukuna rests his chin on top of your head. You smile to yourself, though he can’t see it, because he’s busy watching you slice bits of fruit as you place it into one of his ceramic bowls. When you were kids, Sukuna would have to look around your arm whenever he hugged you from behind. The years show the evolution of this gesture, from him suddenly perching over your shoulder until he could simply see over your crown. 

He sighs, his other arm curling over your belly as he embraces you. 

“Don’t add the blueberries,” he mumbles. 

You oblige, your back leaning into the breadth of his chest. 

The two of you haven’t touched one another since that faithful night. 

Up until the fight, you and Sukuna simply returned back to the way things used to be. Except this time there were little alterations in your day to day conversations that indicated a shift. 

For one, Sukuna was a flirt. 

You were use to this commentary, but now that your friendship has taken a turn you find your cheeks growing heated more often around him because his words weren't gray. What he says toward you, and the way he compliments you rings very, very true.  There is also a deep tenderness for one another that you both are finally allowing to express freely. You don't dull your affection, and instead allow it to overflow. And last of all, the longing to be back together was pathetically obvious. 

You placed the strawberries, sliced peaches and peeled oranges into the bowl, your fingers a little tacky. “I need to wash my hands,” you indicate, and Sukuna begrudgingly releases you from his hold. 

You’re surprised that he didn’t pounce on you so quickly. 

The two of you only had one other sexual moment just a few months ago. 

Sukuna video called you one evening, his face tight with frustration. 

He was exhausted from training, and even more drained by the press. 

They were claiming that his new “pumped physique” was due to steroid use, and one little rumor had the representatives of the boxing association hounding him like he was a real culprit in this make believe story. Suddenly, his hard work and training was being reduced to the thing that the press claimed him to be: a cheater.

He called you to ensure you that everything was alright. That he was forced to take tests which all came out negative (obviously) and and effectively proved his innocence. 

“I can’t wait to be home,” he breathed with annoyance. “I’m fucking sick of this shit…” 

You were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, gently patting your moisturizer onto your face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you stated, offering him only an apology because it's all you could give. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?” 

Sukuna arched his brow, his attention hovering in front of the screen. 

“Yeah, you can take off that robe you’re wearing…” he teased. 

You jerked your head to the camera in surprise, noting his cheeky tone. 

“Ha-ha…” you remarked. 

“I’m being serious,” he answered back, his mouth dropping into an instant frown. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I can’t even do the one thing I want to help me relax…” 

You arched your brow. “And what might that be?” 

He revealed his canines, a wolfish grin brightening that handsome face. “Fucking my girl...” 

Your heart thumped, and you swallowed the sudden tightness in your throat. You picked up your lip balm and dabbed your finger into the ointment before gliding it over your bottom lip. 

“Your girl, huh?” You reiterated casually, hoping that Sukuna wouldn’t quite pick up on the catch in your throat. 

“You’re always my girl, even when you weren’t mine to call that…” he added softly, his voice pulling your attention back towards him. 

He wasn’t kidding around, with the look on his face entirely serious. The tips of your ears stung with a heat that you couldn’t explain, and you just had the sudden urge to reach through the screen and pull his face back towards you. 

You wanted to kiss him, to tell him that you always felt like you belonged to him too. 

The two of you an inseparable pair for a reason. 

Instead, you stripped down to reveal your naked form. You perched the camera towards the back for a wider shot, and allowed your body to speak to Sukuna instead. One of your legs was resting on the bathroom sink, the other grounding you on the floor. You had the camera facing your cunt, with your fingers buried deep inside. But it was nothing compared to the stretch of Sukuna’s digits, wasn’t filling you enough to reach you to the pleasurable climax you desired. 

“It’s not enough,” you gasped in between breaths, watching Sukuna passionately jerk off from he other side of the screen, “Need you, ‘kuna~” you whined, “it’s not enough with you…” 

The memory hits you, making your lower belly tighten.

You dry your hands off to face him, only to find the man standing with an expression of guilt on his face. 

The same concern you had earlier when you left the elevator reappeared once more. 

You pick up the fruit bowl from the counter, trying your best not to give the discomfort attention. You offer Sukuna a strawberry, lifting it towards his mouth but he instantly circles his hand around your wrist and pulls it back down.

“I need to tell you something,” 

You scrunch your brows, and place the fruit bowl back onto the counter. 

“What’s wrong?”

Sukuna closes his eyes, a look of shame washing over him. 

You take a step closer, wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” You repeat, coaxing him to speak. 

“I nearly threw the fight tonight.” 

You jerk your head up in shock, your lips parting as your jaw falls from the confession. 

“You…what?” 

Sukuna rubs his tired face with one hand, using every ounce of courage to look back at you. 

“There was a moment in the ring when Satoru threw a relatively decent punch,” he explains, “I had the lights knocked out of me for a split second. When I turned to face him it hit me then...that I could fake dodging his next attack before giving him the opening that he needs to win. One more hit and I’d...collapse. Let the referee do his count, and that would be it…”

You knew the exact moment he was referring to. It was the point in the match where your ears were ringing because you truly thought that you would be witnessing a loss on Sukuna's part. The entire crowd was muttering in shock, all of them on the precipice of a potential shift in legacy. 

“I didn’t follow through because I think Satoru noticed a change in my demeanor. It was only a few seconds, but the kid is fucking sharp. He wasn't smugly determined then, he was looking at me with...confusion. I couldn't do it then. I didn't want him to get a cop out on my end. So, I carried on the fight the way I would. After the match, I thought I could just let the moment pass but Uraume tried to bring it up later and I shut it down because I didn't want to admit it. Anyway, I needed to just get it off my chest…” 

“You were going to give him that win?” You expressed with deep concern, tightening your hold around his waist as you watched Sukuna’s face to turn hard. 

It hits you then - that the Champ, The Monster of The Ring, The Beast and King Himself was…burnt out. Sukuna’s fire had been gone for quite some time, you just thought it would reignite after tonight. 

But it didn't.

You bring your hands to his biceps and caress your palms up and down. 

“Ryomen,” you speak, licking your lips with hesitation before finally asking. “Is this what you still want?” 

Contemplative eyes meet yours as his palms find both your cheeks. He drops his head down, his lips seeking yours as he takes into account the gash on the muscle, then places a careful kiss on your mouth. 

“I just want you,” he hums. 

“M’right here,” you murmur back, “Not going anywhere.” 

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he adds on, “that’s all I could think about during the fight. Was just coming home to you, coming home to us…” 

A shiver runs down your back, but your body vibrates with an innocent excitement. “We don’t have to wait anymore,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere no matter what happens. No matter what comes next…” 

Sukuna looks at you then, knowing full well what your statement means. 

Once news breaks out of the two of you being an actual item, heaven knows what might happen. If the paparazzi have been plaguing Sukuna like a curse this whole time, it was only going to get even more complicated with you so intimately intertwined in his world. And now that he was back on top as the champion, he knew full well that all eyes were going to remain on him.

From when he was a child, no matter what he believed about his life that would deter you from him. His broken home wasn't enough to push you. His anger wasn't enough to push you. His detachment wasn't enough to push you. The chaos that is his world wasn't enough to push you.

You have always remained solidly by his side.

His constant. The only thing in the world that he can rely on.

“I love you,” he states under his breath, leaning in to peck you for a second time. 

“I love you too,” you repeated with a smile against his lips. 

There was no epic moment around this sober reveal, no exceptional circumstance other than the privacy of it being spoken with no one else to hear it other than the two of you.

You loved one another, in the deepest possible way you could love a person. From there your lips parted, and you carefully kissed the man before you as he scooped you up in his arms. 

He repeated the phrase again when he placed you on the kitchen counter, with his fingers buried deep within the folds of your wet pussy. 

You moaned it back to him after he carried you into his bedroom, with your fists tangled between his hair as he ate you out. 

He grunted it out one last time, with his hand gripping the headboard as he watched your body melt into the matters when he thrusted his dick in and out of you as he made love to you feverishly. 

And you mumbled it back one last time while he held you in his arms, the two of you falling asleep from a very long night of unbridled passion. 

Sukuna was the first to wake at the crack of dawn. He rolled over to grab  his phone from the side table in an attempt to turn off his alarm before it woke you up as well. As he looked at the device, his heart sank. 

A number of notifications were blowing up his phone and it was making him feel dizzy. 

News articles were already painting him in all his glory after his fight with Satoru, with his opponent looking battered in defeat. The press had finally flipped, and suddenly began to revere him the way he deserved to be. There were text messages from an influx of people, either congratulating him or wanting get his thoughts on the match. Sukuna feels the tremor in his hand build as he starts to scroll through the notifications. 

He places the device on the blanket in front of him, his eyes looking out to the large windows as he watches the sky shift from a deep violet to a lilac blue. He turns this head to gaze at you. This image of you by his side, in a position that he’s seen multiple times in his life, feels different now too. The soft glow of new daylight washes over your body, and the stillness of the hour has him believing that he actually made it to heaven. Sukuna places a soft kiss on your forehead, then carefully kicks off the blankets. He searches for his boxers, then pulls on the pair before stepping out into his balcony. 

He calls Uraume. 

Usually they pick up quick, but Sukuna counts down the rings until they do. 

“My King,” they tease, their voice a little groggy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Sukuna watches a bird fly across the horizon, the ease in his chest an affirmation to what he’s about to say. 

“I’m retiring,” he announces. “I’m done.” 

The silence hangs in the air, streaks of orange and yellow begin to tint the clouds. 

“I had a feeling you were going to say that…” 

“is that why it took you long to answer my call?” 

Uraume huffs out a laugh. “I guess I was hoping for another piece of news…” 

“Are you mad?” Sukuna asks, only honoring Uraume with his worry because he knows how much they have done for him to begin with. 

Uraume sighs, “I’m not actually. It’s the smartest decision you can make. You retire now and you basically leave the game while sitting at the top. You’ve earned that throne, and it won’t be easy for these rookies to take it from you so quickly…” 

Sukuna chuckles, “you’re right about that…” 

Uraume lets the quiet overtake the conversation. “I’ll give it a few days before I break the news to the press.” 

“And then what?” 

“There’s definitely going to be a lot of interviews, and a retirement party that you will have to attend wether you like it or not…” 

“And what about you?” 

Uraume hums, “You and I had a good run. If it’s the end for you, then I guess I can finally retire too..” 

Sukna furrows his brows, his nails scratch over the rail on his balcony. “I don’t want you doing that because of me…” 

Uraume laughs, “You’ve earned my loyalty, what can I say?” 

“Thank you,” Sukuna breathes, “For everything you’ve done for me. You’re more than just a manager, but I think you already know that...” 

“I know it,” Uraume answers back. “And I also know that this is the right decision because you sound…relieved.” 

He hears you then. 

You were calling out to him, “‘kuna, where are you?~” 

He turns his back to face the railing, missing the sun breaking through the horizon at the sound of your voice. He smiles thinking about the adorable, frustrated look on your face when you probably reached out and couldn’t find him, and he slowly begins making his approach back into his bedroom. 

“I am,” he speaks to Uraume, “I’ve got to go. Will talk about this later.” 

He hangs up the phone, and returns to the shadow of deep, restful slumber. He places the phone back on his side table, and smiles at the exact disappointed expression that he pictured when he was outside. 

The second you feel his warmth back in your presence, you snuggle up into his frame. 

“Where did you go?” You mumble with a yawn, and Sukuna wraps his strong arms around you as he nestles back into your body. 

“Nowhere,” he breathes, easing back into your embrace. 

“Heard you talking,” you add on, you eyes still shut but your arm slinking around his neck to keep him close.

It’s taken you both over two decades to get here, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to come in the way of that. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he reassures, keeping his loving eyes on you as he clutches onto his bright, new future with his favorite person.

A life that you both will now get to live in peaceful happiness. 

₊ ⊹ .

:note: hi, everyone! long form fics has been really draining for me these days but these one shots feel like a great refresher. I know this is a monster of a fic, but I hope you enjoy the story. comments and reblogs are appreciated!

tags (only tagging those who asked): @after-laughter-come-tears @not-9ok @axxk17 @sukubusss @lavenderdaydream97 @charlie-xo @kunasthiast @celestep004 @brownskinnedgirll @sukunasweetheart @kunascutie @joontroverted @emi311 @yuujispinkhair @starmapz @bellyei

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What? 

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face. 

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips. 

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight. 

It was just your luck. 

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather. 

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up. 

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place. 

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had. 

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting. 

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well I thought you wouldn’t  want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim. 

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?” 

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“ 

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.” 

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?” 

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were. 

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?” 

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips. 

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head. 

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years. 

Not since the very last summer just like this. 

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto. 

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back. 

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness. 

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically. 

But you couldn’t blame him all the same. 

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks. 

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?” 

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,” 

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,” 

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch. 

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you. 

“What should we watch?” 

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much. 

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line. 

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,” 

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest. 

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.” 

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo. 

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name. 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now. 

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“ 

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,” 

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“ 

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips. 

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now. 

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you. 

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side. 

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,” 

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“ 

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly. 

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already. 

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?” 

He’s too sweet. 

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch. 

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it. 

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips. 

But you weren’t going to tell him that. 

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,” 

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches. 

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other. 

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,” 

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“ 

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?” 

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for— 

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“ 

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat. 

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip. 

But not for long. 

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were. 

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it. 

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,” 

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“ 

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?” 

~~~ 

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you. 

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat. 

How had he resisted for so long? 

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance. 

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Not without you by his side. 

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin. 

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?” 

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice. 

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same. 

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same. 

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy. 

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy. 

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same. 

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!” 

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?” 

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“ 

He’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,” 

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make. 

Almost. 

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now. 

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was. 

And he would die happy. 

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were,  “s’cute, is it that easy?” 

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum. 

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw. 

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off. 

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop? 

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly. 

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?” 

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,”  and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched. 

And you were more than happy to oblige. 

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre. 

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“ 

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“ 

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,” 

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,” 

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?” 

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,” 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours. 

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,” 

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—” 

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,” 

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well. 

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,” 

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth. 

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,” 

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were. 

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind. 

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high. 

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now). 

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does. 

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief. 

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic. 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed. 

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,” 

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,” 

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower. 

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?” 

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!  

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it. 

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?” 

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl