#but you can’t have all three at once I’m sorry

[harmonyrae]

Inked - Part 2

Synopsis: You convinced him to take you on a race, can you handle the consequences? And a trip to Paradise reveals a new layer to the underworld Rafayel is a part of & reveals more about his interesting relationship with Sylus.

Part One

AN: This fanfic was inspired & entirely fueled by the artwork above, done by the amazing @obligatedart - thank you for letting me use your work as the cover art! Go check them out and see the other tattooed Rafayel pieces they’ve done. Comment if you want to be tagged for part 3 or any of my other fics.

Content Warnings: explicit language & sexual content, alcohol consumption, illegal street racing & evading, not-so-safe sex on a motorcycle, gambling, sassy Sylus, mentions of needles (tattoo needles, not medical), genital piercings, semi-public sex (if you squint), dom!Rafayel moments (bless), rough ROUGH, creampie, PiV, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 15k 

Now Playing (for club scene): Fuck Around Find Out - Mobiius Alone - Mobiius Smolder - Mobiius

“This should work. Don’t take off the jacket, gloves or helmet unless I say so, okay?”

Rafayel pulls a dark red leather jacket out of your closet. He digs through your dresser drawers and finds a black long sleeve shirt and your thickest pair of jeans, he tosses them on your bed. A pair of padded gloves and a white helmet with cute little light up cat ears sits on your dresser. You shrug your hoodie off and start to unbutton your skirt, Rafayel lays back on your bed and hums.

“Enjoying the show?”

“Well, there’s no music and you’re too far away, so no.”

You shake your head and continue getting changed. Once you have your pants and long sleeve on, you sit to lace up your moto boots. Rafayel shifts to sit behind you, he wraps his legs around you and removes the clip holding your hair up. You turn to reprimand him, but you feel him gather your hair and section it into three sections.

“Are you braiding my hair?”

He doesn’t answer, instead his fingers weave your hair together with ease. 

“When did you learn to braid hair?”

“Talia taught me. We would go swimming after I’d get out of school and she’d always get her hair caught in a reef. So she taught me to braid her hair. I got pretty good at it too. She had me do her hair for her wedding.”

“Talia’s married?”

Your high-pitched squeak makes Rafayel laugh. He secures your braid with a hair tie from around his wrist. 

“Her husband is very open-minded.”

You lean back against him and he kisses your temple. 

“Race starts at 9.”

You get up and zip up your leather jacket. Rafayel helps tighten your gloves and adjusts your helmet. He snaps the visor down and leads you through your living room - which is much too dark with the visor down. 

You’re surprised when you see his car parked in the garage. You put your hands on your hips.

“I thought…”

“That I’d bring my racing bike here? No, cutie. That would be silly.”

His mocking sing-song voice makes you growl, you pout - even though he can’t see it - and cross your arms.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Come on, let me show you my lair.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling.

“You have a lair? Like Batman? You’re – wait, if we weren’t getting on your bike, why am I wearing my helmet already?”

He opens the passenger door and looks back at you, his hand on his hip.

“Cause you’re just so cute with your little kitty ears.”

You open your visor so he can see you dramatically roll your eyes. He places a hand on top of your helmet to make sure you don’t bump your head when you sink into his car.

After driving through downtown for almost half an hour, Rafayel finally takes a back alley and approaches a man dressed in all black with a full face mask. Rafayel slows and nods at the man. As he drives past, Rafayel reaches over and opens the glove box to pull a mask out. He quickly puts it on before turning down another alley that leads to the highway. 

After a short drive, you can tell you’ve entered the no hunt zone. The cars that pass by are mostly armored and have tinted windows. The buildings are weathered with bars on the windows. Rafayel pulls up to a tall parking garage and heads to the basement level. You’re surprised to find a large garage door blocking off the lower level. Rafayel presses a button on his dash and the door opens. 

Inside, there’s row after row of expensive cars and a smaller selection of motorcycles of every make and model. Rafayel parks his car and hops out. You follow him to a white Kawasaki with dark red side panels and seat covers, the headlights also appear to be tinted red. Rafayel squats down next to the bike and runs his hand over the side panel down to the chain guard. He stands and pulls off his mask, tucking it into his jacket pocket.

“Good as new.”

He walks over to a wall with a huge shelving unit stocked with helmets. He picks up the helmet you saw that night at your apartment, now fully repaired. Rafayel sets the helmet on the seat of his bike and turns to you. With your visor still up, he tracks your eyes to his helmet.

“My team works fast.”

He reaches up and tugs at your helmet, checking the straps. He drops his hands to check your gloves… again.

“You’re nervous.”

He meets your gaze. 

“About having you on the back of my bike while I race through the city at breakneck speeds? Nervous doesn’t quite cut it.”

“I’ll be okay. I trust you.”

He sighs and stares at the floor. You reach up and hold his face in your hands. You don’t speak and he rests his forehead against your helmet. 

“Am I interrupting?”

Rafayel looks over your shoulder and he squeezes your hands, almost like an involuntary reflex. You start to turn but Rafayel tugs on your hands and you squint. You pull your hand free and turn to face a tall man in leather. You train your eyes over his apparel, black leather pants are tucked into combat boots, a black leather jacket with red and white lightning strikes adorning the sleeves and a fitted turtleneck. When you meet his eyes you gasp. Is this…?

���I don’t believe we’ve properly met. I’m Sylus.”

He extends his gloved hand and you hesitantly take it. Instead of shaking it, he lifts it to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. You stare at his face, those dark red eyes sparkling behind silver lashes that match his hair. Those lips. You definitely remember them. And his voice… 

“I mean we’ve met, but –”

Rafayel steps up beside you, his arms crossed. Sylus lets go of your hand. His devious smirk tells you he is enjoying this introduction. Your cheeks flush and you wish you could close your visor without adding to Sylus’s ego.

“We should probably talk before the rest of the crew gets here.”

Sylus crosses his arms, mirroring Rafayel. 

“I assume she knows already?”

Rafayel nods, you notice his cheeks are flushed. Sylus was definitely the man from the party. Sylus… Ryūō… Rafayel knew who he was, that he was his friend, and let him… Oh, you were so forcing him to tell you the full story now.

“She does.”

“And she knows my alias?”

Rafayel nods. Sylus turns to face you. 

“And she knows what will happen if that information is… leaked?”

Rafayel steps forward, putting you slightly behind him. 

“She does.”

You huff and step up to stand beside both the men, facing both of them. 

“She can answer for herself. I’m not going to leak anything. You have enough to worry about with whoever this Onryō person is.”

Sylus tilts his head and gives you a once over. His smile returns. 

“Fair enough.” 

Rafayel rubs the back of his neck before continuing. 

“Onryō probably won’t show up at today’s race, it’s too risky. But they’ll probably be watching. My people are still trying to track them down, whoever they are they’re good at covering their tracks. I’ll update you with any changes.”

Sylus continues to stare at you. You can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes as he forms his opinion of you.

“Your people have two more days before my people get involved.”

Rafayel uncrosses his arms and opens his mouth to say something.

“Rafayel, I already have a bounty on my head and whoever this Onryō prick is, they’re giving the authorities the idea that they can actually catch me. And those cops weren’t traffic cops, they were professionals.”

Rafayel starts pacing, walking slow circles around you and Sylus. He pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing when he realizes he pinched his piercing. He adjusts it before continuing to rub his forehead. 

“Do you think Onryō is undercover?”

Sylus shrugs.

“Not sure. Could be. All I know is I’ll probably have to retire Stella.”

“Stella?”

You finally speak up, your brain trying to keep track of all the information.

“He names his bikes.”

“Stella was the bike I drove last week. Now the cops know her make and model, it’s too risky to take her to the shop for a wipe down.”

Rafayel paces around him.

“Fuck…”

“Mephisto’s monitoring the shop. He runs a background check for every client, nothing sus yet.” 

Rafayel stops pacing, he turns to face Sylus.

“Did you just say ‘sus’? Like, with all seriousness?”

“Luke and Kieran said ‘sus’ means suspicious.”

“Sylus, you’re too old to say shit like that.”

Sylus glares at Rafayel, which amuses Rafayel greatly.

“You’re one to talk.”

Rafayel raises his hands in mock surrender. 

“Mephisto is watching the shop, what about Xavier?”

“Xavier’s in the bunker. He’s been there since the race. He’s being taken care of.”

Rafayel nods. You put your hands on your hips and try to hold your tongue, you’re so lost. Rafayel notices and circles behind you, rubbing your shoulders.

“Xavier is our designer, he creates the tracks and controls the app that we use for races. He also... monitors police frequencies to keep us up to date on any investigations.”

“And Mephisto?”

“A bird.”

“That’s a gross mischaracterization.”

Rafayel laughs and drapes his arm around your shoulder. 

“I’m… ha! I’m sorry, but he is a bird. A mechanical bird but still a bird.”

Sylus crosses his arms again and huffs. Rafayel holds his breath, trying to stop laughing.

“Okay, sorry sorry. He’s a huge help, eyes in the sky - literally - which we desperately need right now. You built him, right Sy?”

Sylus nods. You cock your head.

“Two days Rafayel. I’m not waiting any longer than that.”

Rafayel’s smile falls and he stuffs his hand in his pocket.

“Fine. Two days.”

Sylus looks at you once again. 

“We should get to know each other better if you’re going to be involved in our… business.”

“She’s not involved Sylus.”

“Of course she’s involved.”

“She certainly is.”

Rafayel and Sylus look at you, both somewhat surprised by your response. You turn to Rafayel, forcing his arm off of your shoulder. 

“If it was as simple as trying to stop illegal street racing they wouldn’t have kicked your bike. If this person is trying to hurt you I want to know their motive. So yes, I am involved.”

“So dinner, Sunday. My base. 7 o’clock sound good for everyone? Good. I’ll see you both there.”

With that, Sylus turns and walks away. Rafayel clears his throat and walks back to his bike. You follow, wishing you could remove your helmet and kiss him until that frown vanishes.

“We don’t have to go, he’s just being a pain in the ass as always.” 

You walk over and mount his bike, taking the driver seat. He leans down and places a hand on the handlebar and another on the seat behind you.

“Whatcha doin cutie?”

“Getting comfortable for storytime.”

He wrinkles his nose and cocks his head to the side. 

“I could always ask Sylus for the story behind that debt he repaid at dinner on Sunday.”

Rafayel’s ears turn bright red and his cheeks soon follow. He shakes his head and drops his eyes to the floor. He’s been avoiding this conversation all week and you’ve let him, with his injury still healing. 

“You did say you’d explain later. It’s definitely later.”

Rafayel sighs and leans his head on your shoulder.

“Fine. Yes, Sylus was the guy at the party.”

“The guy who sucked your dick.”

Rafayel lifts his head to glare at you. You chuckle and cover where your mouth would be with your hand, giving him an apologetic look. 

“He did do that, yes. The debt was… fuck… okay…”

He straightens and hooks his thumbs in his pockets, trying to look casual while you knew he was boiling alive. 

“For the past few years, every time we line up to start a race, Sylus and I will give each other shit. He’ll say something about dusting me or beating my record and I’ll tell him to… ‘suck my dick’ - it became a tradition I guess.”

He stutters and you rest your chin on your fist, leaning against the gas tank in front of you.

“We set up a tournament and we got a little… too competitive. We decided to make a bet and… he said he’d follow through on my…” He raises his fingers to make air quotes. “‘Catch Phrase’ as he referred to it, if I beat him.”

“And you beat him.”

“Yea…”

“And you enjoyed it?”

Rafayel's pupils dilate and you smile - if only he could see it through your damn helmet.

“I’m glad you did. It certainly gave you the motivation to eat me out like a man starved.”

He groans and turns around to start pacing again. 

“We should go.”

“To what?” 

“Dinner. At his place.”

He spins around, his eyes wide.

“Why?”

“He’s important to you, even if he’s just a rival giving you shit. Sunday is two days away, so you’ll either have an answer about Onryō by then or he’ll send his people out to hunt. I’m sure you’ll want another attempt at trying to convince him otherwise. Am I right?”

Rafayel sighs and nods reluctantly. 

“Then we’ll go. Plus it’s funny watching him get under your skin.”

“Rude.” 

You poke your elbow into his stomach. 

“It’s almost 9.”

You hop off the bike and he takes your place. You hand him his helmet so you can climb on behind him. He secures his helmet and revs the engine before reaching back to pat your leg.

“You ready?”

You close your visor, lean forward and wrap your arms around him.

“Whole new world time?”

Rafayel laughs and closes his visor. He lifts up the kickstand with his heel. 

“Come on Princess, let’s ride.”

He carefully weaves his way through the garage and out onto the street. You spot a long line of bikes parked on the sidewalk. Rafayel drives to the front of the line and pulls out his phone.

“It’s my turn to register everyone, so they’ll all drive up in a second.”

The roar of multiple bikes starting up is deafening. They slowly pull off the sidewalk to drive into a line near where Rafayel is parked. A silver bike with light blue headlights approaches first. Two long white braids hang over their shoulders. Their helmet is adorned with delicate snowflakes and lines that look like cracks in ice. A female voice greets Rafayel.

“What’s up Kiko? Yuki onna, 3146.”

Rafayel nods and types something on his phone.

“Oh you know, just hunting down the fuckhead who ruined our last race. Accept?” 

She taps her phone that’s mounted to the handlebars of her bike. You hear Rafayel’s phone chime. 

“Let me know if you need help with that.”

She pulls off and heads towards the back of the line. You recognize the alias, Yuki onna, snow woman. Her helmet design was much more Elsa than terrifying supernatural spirit, but still very fitting.

The next bike rolls up, the bright purple and pink streaks along the side panels glow in the dark, their pure white headlights are almost too bright. Their helmet painted a dark purple with white lightning strikes spreading out from the visor. The voice that greets you is loud and gritty. 

“Kiko, my guy! Since when do you have a backpack? What’s up babe?”

“Raijū…”

Rafayel’s tone is a warning, the biker shifts in his seat and waves his hand.

“I was just playing around. You find the prick who fucked you up?”

Rafayel shakes his head.

“Working on it.”

“They better hope you don’t find them, I’m sure you have something creative planned.”

Your grip around Rafayel’s waist tightens. You feel his hand rub yours. 

“What’s your number today?”

“Raijū, 1520.”

Rafayel types on his phone, the biker taps his smartwatch and Rafayel’s phone chimes again. They rev their engine before slowly moving forward.

“Have fun, backpack! Kiko’s a wild one.”

He drives off and takes an alley, which you assume loops around to the back of the line. If you remember correctly, Raijū is a thunder beast. Their legend was fairly vague, but mostly they were considered messengers from the gods. Their messages were mostly in the form of punishing lightning strikes. 

You don’t recognize every yokai alias that you hear, but the color choices and helmet designs give you plenty of clues. You try to take mental notes so you can look them up when you get home to see if your guesses were correct. 

The final bike in the line approaches and you recognize the leather jacket, the white and red lightning strikes glowing in the darkness. Sylus’s bike is all black with no side panels, the exposed interior a bright chrome. His black helmet had patches of golden scales lined with fire. You assume this is his backup bike since “Stella” had to be retired. Stella probably matched his alias much better.

“And you’re sure you want to ride with him?”

Sylus winks at you, which makes Rafayel huff in response. You laugh and move your arms to rest over Rafayel’s shoulders. Sylus reaches up to close his visor and clicks his phone into its holder below his handlebars. 

“What’s your number?”

Rafayel leans back against you and as you rub his chest.

“Ryūō, 7213.”

Sylus taps his phone.

"I would provide my usual taunt, but your response doesn't hold as much power as it once did."

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. Sylus is loving how flustered he now makes Rafayel and it shows. Rafayel flips him off and Sylus gives you a casual salute before speeding off to rejoin the line. Rafayel sighs as he continues typing something on his phone. 

“What are the numbers?”

Rafayel pauses, turning his head so you can hear him better.

“Confirmation IDs. They sign up on the app and get a number. They’d only have the number if they’re logged into a recognized account.”

“And… what did that guy mean by ‘backpack’?” 

Rafayel snorts, he secures his phone to its mount.

“It’s what bikers call their passengers. Well… mostly for special passengers.”

“Special?”

He lifts his visor, looks over his shoulder and winks at you. He turns back around and turns his bike back on, shutting his visor again as he lines his bike up on the street. The other bikers pull up beside him and rev their engines. 

“Remember, hands on the tank, don’t lean into or away from the turn, just stay loose and no sudden movements.” 

“Got it.”

You give his torso a squeeze and plant your hands on the tank in front of him. He leans forward and settles in. You look over his shoulder and see a countdown on his phone. Taking a deep breath, you watch the other bikers shift back and forth preparing to take off. You spot Sylus slightly behind the line, he leans on his elbows patiently. He gives you a cheeky wave and you spin back around to face forward. 

You watch the countdown and take a deep breath. Five… How fast does Rafayel’s bike actually go? Four… Is the whole race in the no hunt zone or does it loop back into the city? Three… Will cops show up? Two… How many times has Rafayel run from the police? One… What if you get caught or crash or…? The sound of a dozen engines drowns your worries - it’s too late to back out now.

How did you end up in one of those “so you’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.” Rafayel’s bike must have cost a fortune - you can’t imagine how many upgrades and illegal modifications it’s had. In a flash you’re speeding down a dimly lit street at 130. You’re suddenly very thankful Rafayel made you wear your thickest leather jacket, the wind alone would freeze you. 

You force yourself to take slow, steady breaths and follow Rafayel’s lead. His phone flashes every time he needs to turn. He drives like he’s swimming, his turns smooth, weaving between cars and the other racers seamlessly. You can’t hear anything but Rafayel’s bike engine - it’s somewhat calming. 

You hear the faint chirp of sirens and hold your breath. You hear Rafayel’s voice.

“We’re fine, don’t worry.”

You wince, his voice is loud.

“Your helmet has Bluetooth, I connected it before we left.”

You take a deep breath and stretch your hands trying to calm down.

“You can talk back if it helps?”

“Oh… okay.”

Your voice is shakier than you intended. 

“Just breathe, we’ll be okay. They’re following, but not chasing just yet.”

“When… will they chase?”

“Most patrol cops can tell when a race is done, they’ll chase the finishers. Big turn.”

You follow his lead and the turn is smooth. You hear the sirens getting closer. 

“Do they always wait?”

“Not always. Don’t worry, I’ll pull off if they get too close.”

“How fast are you going now?”

Rafayel laughs. “185.”

“Fucking hell…”

“I can hit 240 but only ever hit that on highway races with long straights. I won’t go over 200 in urban areas.”

You take a look around and see you’re on a backroad. You recognize the area, you’re close to the city now.

“Are we heading back into Linkon?” 

“Yep, the race ends at the pier. From there we circle back to a garage downtown for payouts.”

“Payouts?”

“Ahh, right. We gamble with our races. The top three split the pot.”

“Are you winning?”

“I’m in third at the moment. I don’t plan on winning.”

“Why not?!” Rafayel chuckles at your tone. “I want you to win!”

“You’re going to yell at me when I tell you why.”

“Well now you have to tell me.”

“My bike can’t go as fast with two people on it.”

“Oh my god! You’re calling me fat?!” You play up the sarcasm in your voice since he can’t see your face. 

“I knew you’d yell at me!”

“I’m not yelling!” You were, in fact, yelling. 

“It’s just physics or whatever! I swear I’m not calling you fat!” 

You’re not really upset, but hearing him backtrack is just too entertaining. As the race enters the city, Linkon city cops start following the race. The closer you get to the pier the more anxious you get. Rafayel continues to try to keep you calm, but as the sirens get louder you start to wonder what Jenna will say when you get arrested.

“Babe? You with me?”

“Yeah… yes, sorry.”

“It’s okay. Race ends around the corner, when I tell you to, I need you to turn around and tell me if any cops follow us, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Hold onto me, you’ll be okay.”

The pier comes into view and Rafayel slows as he approaches the finish line. You lift a hand to press against his stomach. You pass under the entrance to the pier and he brakes, his rear tire smokes as it burns out to spin completely around. Cops slam on their brakes and try to back up to turn around and follow, but they’re too slow. 

“Now, check now.”

As he speeds down the alleyway, you turn your head and look back, two white sports cars with lights on the dashboard flash speed up behind you. 

“Fuck! Two… two ugh… two nice, good, fast…”

“Two pursuit vehicles. How close?”

“On our ass!”

Rafayel snorts and you want to slap him, but you are clinging to him too tightly to even move at the moment. He winds down the city streets carefully, but picks up speed once he hits a long stretch. He takes a turn that leads back to downtown.

“Do you want me to check again?”

“Wait until I make this turn and then check.”

He takes a wide turn cutting into the opposing lanes, you look over your shoulder to see one of the pursuit vehicles lose control and clip the sidewalk. The car tips and the driver overcorrects making him spin out into the bushes, a tree stops the car completely and the sirens wail cuts out. Guilt hits you like a truck and you pinch your eyes closed.

“One of them crashed…”

“Okay, easy, we’ll be out in a sec.”

You keep your eyes closed and wrap your arms around Rafayel, gripping your wrists around his waist until your hands nearly go numb. All you can see is that cop crashing into the tree. The bike wiggles beneath you and Rafayel’s hand squeezes your leg.

“Babe, babe! Talk to me!”

You let out a shaky breath and gasp for air, you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until that moment. When you open your eyes your vision is spotty. White spots cloud your vision and you let out a quiet sob.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. We’re almost out. Talk to me baby, please.”

“They crashed…”

Rafayel takes a sharp turn and you nearly slip off the seat. The alleyway is too narrow for the other pursuit vehicle to follow. When Rafayel reaches the other side, he revs his engine and zooms down backstreets until he hits the highway. You glance over your shoulder and there’s no cops in sight. 

A few minutes later, Rafayel pulls up to a garage and honks twice. When the door opens and you see several of the bikes you saw earlier parked inside. All the racers still have their helmets on and are huddled in small groups. Rafayel drives inside and parks, he hops off and pulls up his visor.

“Hey, look at me.” He grabs your helmet and pushes your visor up. The lights of the garage burn your eyes and you squint. Your eyes water as they adjust.

“Babe, hey, the cop is okay.”

“How do you know?”

“I took that corner super slow. I banked on the cop slamming the brakes and skidding into the grass. If anything, they’ll have some bruises, but they’ll be fine.”

You close your eyes and feel tears trickle down your cheeks, you quickly wipe them away and square your shoulders. 

“I’m not crying, the lights, m’eyes are just sensitive.”

Rafayel hugs you, his hands glide over your back.

“I should have warned you about the possibility of how a chase could go… I’m sorry…”

“No. I knew the risks. It was just a reality check, you know?”

You look up to see two bikers approach. Rafayel snaps his visor shut before turning around. He grabs his phone off its mount and stares at the screen.

“Okay, Raijū you were third, Shinigami you were first and where’s Ryūō?”

A tall individual in a dark red jacket leans forward, their helmet is a dark grey with splattered red paint and two red devil horns fixed to the top. You’re surprised by the voice of the individual, its pitch unnatural and distorted.

“He got a call, he’s out back.”

Rafayel nods and taps on his phone two times. Two chimes ring out and the bikers check their phones before turning to leave. Raijū flips his visor up to wink at you and then skips back to his bike before Rafayel can shove him.

“How much did they make?”

Rafayel looks at his phone, scrolling slowly.

“13 racers, $25k to join, so the total was $325k. First gets 60 percent, second and third each get 20. So… Shinigami got $195k, Ryūō and Raijū each got $65k.”

You audibly gasp. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen $65k let alone over $100k. Rafayel chuckles and mounts his bike once more.

“Everyone here is an adrenaline junkie. Gambling ups the stakes.”

“Wait, so you lost $25k? Because of me?”

Rafayel turns on his bike and turns to watch his fellow racers leave the garage before driving through to the back door where Sylus’s bike is parked. 

“I told you, I didn’t plan on winning tonight. It was just about the experience.”

You lean back and cross your arms as Rafayel gets off his bike and unhooks the straps of his helmet. He sets his helmet on his seat and offers his hand to help you hop off. You let out a dramatic sigh and take the hand offered to you. 

Rafayel wraps an arm around your waist and pulls out the fabric mask from his pocket and puts it on before opening the back door and slipping outside. Sylus leans against the brick wall, his phone pressed to his ear. His helmet tucked under his arm. As you approach you hear the tail end of his conversation.

“Fuck no, kick them out if they’re harassing my girls. Take down their names and have Mike drag them out. Give the girls the rest of the night off. Paid, of course... I’ll call after closing.”

He hangs up and smiles, a stark contrast to the anger burning behind his eyes.

“Trouble in Paradise?” 

Sylus chuckles as he rubs his forehead. 

“Just some drunk idiots harassing my staff.”

“Paradise is his club, by the way.” 

Rafayel squeezes your hip and you hum in response.

“I saw my winnings come through, I assume everyone left?”

Rafayel nods. You lean against him and try to imagine Sylus in a club, he just doesn’t seem like the club type. You start to imagine what kind of club he might own and then an idea hits you.

“Wait, you own a club.”

A teasing smirk spreads across his lips.

“Yes, I do. Would you like to join me sometime?”

You feel Rafayel bristle and hold you tighter.

“No no, you own a club, why not use it? For you know, tracking down Onryō? I assume you both have the connections to get the word out there to… certain people… and if Onryō knows you’ll both be there they might show up.”

He takes a step toward you. 

“That… is a great idea, sweetie.”

Rafayel spins you around and walks you back to the door to the garage. 

“Yea, brilliant idea, let us know when it’s planned and we’ll be there, yea?”

You hear Sylus chuckle behind you before Rafayel rushes you back into the garage. Without his helmet, you can see his ears turning red. You’re starting to suspect that is not only a sign of him being turned on but also of him being jealous. Possibly both given his and Sylus’ interesting relationship dynamic.

You watch him shove his helmet back on and adjust the straps. You wrap your arms around his chest, trapping his arms to his sides. 

“Are you…?”

“Am I what?”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

He wiggles against your grasp and you giggle in response. He starts to lean back and you struggle to keep standing. 

“You’re cute when you think I’m cute.”

You finally release him and he turns to face you.

“It is a good idea by the way. An event like that will draw a crowd of all the wrong people, especially if they know Sylus and I will be there.”

You hold onto his hips as he reaches up to hold the chin of your helmet. 

“Then let’s focus on the event. Sunday’s dinner will be the perfect opportunity to help Sylus plan!”

Rafayel groans and bangs his helmet against yours. He turns to mount his bike and you follow suit. 

“I’m in charge of music!” 

Rafayel nods and you pull out your phone to sync up the Bluetooth in your helmets. He zips out of the garage and down an alleyway. 

After switching back to his street bike, Rafayel takes his time driving back to his apartment. The streets were unusually quiet after the night you’ve had. You rest your head against his back, reliving the thrill. 

The next song on your playlist is raunchy, and before you could think up an excuse you feel Rafayel’s chest shake with a laugh. You let out a deep sigh, he’s extra cocky tonight and it’s driving you insane. An idea pops into your head and you smile, thankful your helmet hides your intentions.

Your hands glide over his stomach. You let them drift further and further down, until your fingertips brush against the zipper on his jeans. 

“Patience, cutie. We’ll be home soon.”

You giggle, letting him feel the subtle shake of your chest against his back. The adrenaline you’d felt during the race had finally worn off, its replacement was much more… carnal. Patience was the last thing on your mind. 

You tuck your hands under his crotch and rub against his already hard cock. You feel Rafayel take a sharp breath. His hands gripping the handles tightly. He slows down slightly, but you don’t. You squeeze your hand as you cup him, you can feel his piercing and you rub your thumb over it with more force than necessary. He leans forward, trying to pinch your fingers and get you to let go, but you just squeeze him a little harder.

“Cutie…” You swear his voice dropped an octave. “I’ll have to punish you for this little stunt…”

You tug his shirt up and run a hand up his abdomen. His muscles tense at your touch. His breathing turns ragged and he grasps your hand through his shirt.

“Come on Raf… hot and bothered looks so good on you…” 

You feel his cock twitch against your hand and you roll your body against his back. He returns his hand to the handle and revs the engine, speeding up and blasting his way down back alleys to avoid stop lights. 

You rub him faster and run your nails across his abs. He turns down the road leading to his studio and the sudden burst of speed up the hill pushes the bike up onto the back tire. You tighten your grip around his waist and slow your massage, your heartbeat pounds in your ears - what song is even playing right now?  

You’re barely inside the private garage behind the studio before he is dismounting and tossing his helmet to the ground. He swiftly turns and starts tugging at the straps of your helmet. As soon as your helmet is off, he lifts you off of his bike and your bodies collide. The concept of patience is long forgotten as he slots his mouth over yours.

“Now how will I punish my precious angel for not being able to control her hands?”

You start undoing his belt when he grabs your hands and you tilt your head, looking up at him. 

“Oh no no no… You first, I insist.” 

His lips curve into a smug smile and before your stubborn nature makes you leave him high and dry, you reach up and pull him to you. You press yourself against him as your lips fight for dominance. You’re needy and don’t give a fuck, you want everything he has to give you tonight.

He bends his knees and lifts you by the backs of your thighs and you wrap your legs around him. You expect to be taken up the stairs to his apartment, but instead your ass meets the seat directly behind you. You gasp in surprise and your eyes fly open, breaking the kiss to look down. He’s put you back on his bike? You smile and lean into the kisses he’s started placing along your collarbone. 

Rafayel pulls your jacket off and drops it to the floor before lifting your shirt over your head. He takes a deep breath as his eyes rake over your chest, your lace bra hiding nothing from him. He dips his head down to press his lips over your covered nipples, making your back arch. You push at his jacket and he leans back to tug it off and drop it next to yours. He pulls his t-shirt over his head before returning to worship your body. 

His mouth meets yours again and he lifts a hand to tug your bottom lip down with his thumb, his tongue sliding into your mouth in an instant. You moan as he begins rocking his hips against you. He undoes your belt and tucks his hands under your ass to help you stand to peel your pants down your legs. His fingers trace the delicate patterns of your lace panties, his breath hot against your neck.

Before he can literally tear your panties off of your body, you stop him. With your fingers locked behind his neck, all he can do is stare at you. His cheeks are flushed and sweat drips down his chest. One thing you loved the most about Rafayel, his eyes would sparkle when he was lost in the heat of the moment. The pink hue would finally overpower the deep blue and it was like you were walking on a pink sand beach, warm and at peace.

You reach up and gently stroke his cheeks, he leans into your touch. You place a soft kiss to his lips and you feel him shudder. His eyes open looking more blurred and unfocused than before. 

You let him go to pull the straps of your bra down your arms and pull it over your head. Rafayel’s eyes instantly clear as he stares at your body. You reach down and take one of his hands, lifting it to glide over your stomach and over the swell of your breast. You release his hand once he starts kneading your sensitive flesh on his own. You whisper his name and his eyes snap to yours.

“Fuck me on your motorcycle…”

His chest caves and he stands up straight, hooking his fingers on the hem of your panties to yank them down. He plants his hands on your waist, lifting you and sitting your bare ass on the seat of his motorcycle. He whips off his belt, watching you spread your legs further. You extend your hand, pulling him forward by the belt loops. You reach around him and quickly squeeze his ass. He winces and glares at you. You’re about to laugh when he takes hold of your braid and tips your head back. He leans down and hovers his lips over yours.

“Bad girl…”

If his kiss is your punishment for squeezing his ass, you’ll be doing it a lot more often. He doesn’t stop you from pushing his pants down over his hips. He removes the hair band from the end of your braid and gently combs through your hair with his fingers. You reach down to take hold of his leaking cock, rubbing your thumb over his swollen tip. He steps closer so you can align him and you drag his cock over your slick cunt. He presses himself into your slowly, too slowly. You plant your hands on his hip and pull him forward, taking him all at once. He groans, throwing his head back. You let out a breath and rest your head against his chest as you adjust and let the pain melt into an intense pleasure. 

“Fuck… I need… I need to move, baby… hold onto me.”

You glide your hands up his chest to circle around his neck. You watch his eyes roll back before he pulls back to thrust. You start rolling your hips, driving yourself crazy with the friction of his piercing against your clit. You close your eyes and lean your head back, letting Rafayel find his rhythm. You run your hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. He holds his breath as he watches you, sweat glistening across your chest, your eyes closed, your lips swollen, your ragged voice moaning his name - losing yourself to the pleasure he’s bringing you.

He grips the center of the handle bar and holds you against him as his thrusts become more intense. The motorcycle sways, your arousal dripping down onto the seat is making it hard for you to remain still. You wrap your legs around him again to avoid slipping off.

You finally open your eyes and bring your hands to cradle his face, placing kisses along his jaw. He lets out a breathy moan and whispers your name over and over. You silence him with a kiss and his fingertips dig into your back.

You roll your hips one last time, meeting his most brutal thrust yet. You almost black out at the intense pain and pleasure of it all. He was so deep, his hips hitting yours so harshly you’re sure you’ll have bruises forming before he even pulls out. The muscles in your stomach tighten and when you can’t take a deep breath you know you’re done for. You scream his name as your climaxes hit at the same time. Rafayel whimpering against your neck as you claw at his chest. 

He rests his hands on the seat, his thumbs brushing against your thighs as his cock softens inside you. You make no move to drop your legs from his waist, not yet. You kiss the tip of his nose and he rests his forehead against yours. He looks down at his motorcycle and chuckles.

“Now how do I explain this to my detailing team?”

You laugh with him, finally letting him slip out and lift you off of his bike. He bends to pick you up bridal style and carries you up the stairs to his apartment. You nuzzle your head into his neck and sigh.

“Just tell them you had the ride of your life.”

“This is how I die, isn’t it? This is it. It was a great run.”

You can barely hear Rafayel under the pile of clothes you stacked on top of him. He’s the one who decided to lay down on your bed while you tried on outfits for the event at Sylus’s club. He knew the risks. You had nearly gone through every article of clothing in your closet and you were getting desperate. Nothing felt right. And of course work got busy as soon as the date was set and you couldn’t go shopping like you planned. 

“Stop being dramatic! Fuck, I have nothing to wear.”

“I beg to differ.”

Rafayel sticks his hand through the pile on top of him and wags his finger at you. You start shoving your clothes off of the bed, freeing Rafayel from his prison. He sits up and dramatically gasps for air. You flop down on the bed and cover your face.

“I just don’t feel comfortable in any of my clothes right now. I’ve gained weight, Tara is borrowing my favorite dress for her vacation with Jeremiah and I’m starting to think my body type is not good for dresses.” 

Rafayel pulls you on top of him and you squeal, he holds you close and nuzzles his face into your hair. You stop struggling and relax in his warm embrace.

“You’ll look amazing in whatever you choose. Your body is perfect and it’s definitely the type for dresses.”

You frown and try to look up at him. 

“The event starts in 3 hours… we should be getting ready.” Rafayel hums and slowly rubs your arms. You wiggle against his grasp, but he only holds you tighter. You whine and he laughs, giving the top of your head a soft kiss.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry. How about I pick out your outfit for you? It’ll be a surprise.”

Rafayel releases you and you sit up.

“You sure?”

He nods and you shrug before standing to head into the bathroom. 

You drag your fingers along your lash line to smear your eyeliner and mascara, adding black shadow to create a smoked out wing. After redrawing your eyeliner with precision and adding a small set of wispy false lashes, you feel more club-appropriate. The hot rollers in your hair were cool to the touch by the time you finished touching up your makeup, the curls were tight and bouncy - you knew they’d fall into loose waves by the end of the night. With a final flick of your lip gloss wand, you head back into your bedroom.

Rafayel stands beside your bed, he changed into the suit he brought with him and you nearly tripped over your own feet. His fitted black suit pants tucked into his worn boots. The sleeves of the matching suit jacket were rolled up over his elbows with a simple black button up left untucked and mostly unbuttoned underneath. The undone red bow tie around his neck was a surprising touch, the color complimented his tattoos nicely. He looked incredible and you suddenly became very aware you were still in your pajamas. 

“Damn. You clean up nice.”

“Thanks, cutie. You look ready to go, let’s head out, yea?”

You glare at him, his cheeky smirk making your heart flutter. You put your hands on your hips and he finally steps aside to reveal the outfit he selected laid out on your bed for you.

Surprisingly, it was a relatively simple ensemble. Wide leg, high waisted dark gray trousers, sleek black stilettos and a fitted leather jacket. You walk over and pick up the jacket, looking for a shirt and hold up a scarf you forgot you have.

“Where’s the shirt?”

“You’re looking at it.”

You stare at the scarf in your hand. The rich emerald green was definitely a good color option and the golden thread woven throughout sparkled in the light. But how on earth is this your top?

“You said you didn’t like anything you have, so let’s make something new.”

You drop the scarf on your bed and cross your arms. Rafayel picks up the scarf and swings it over his head to settle around his neck.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod sheepishly. He tugs on your baggie t-shirt urging you to change. You carefully pull your shirt over your head, making sure your hair isn’t touched. As you pull the trousers up, Rafayel steps forward to adjust the belt, twisting it to accentuate your waist before securing the buckle. You hand the necklaces he laid out for you to him and turn around. His fingers graze your skin gently as he hooks them together around your neck.

You shudder when his fingers slide along the back of your bra, pausing over the clasp. His lips press against the skin of your neck as he swiftly unhooks the clasp and pulls away from your body. You lean back against him and hold your breath as his hand sweeps your hair over your shoulder. He removes the scarf from around his neck and centers it across your back. He wraps the fabric under your arms and crosses it over your chest. He ties it behind your neck and slowly turns you around. 

He adjusts the scarf over your breasts and shivers spread across your skin when his fingers brush over your nipples. You watch him smirk and try to move away, he grabs your waist suddenly and pulls you into a kiss. His lashes tickle your cheeks and you giggle against his lips. He steps back and smiles at you. Your giggles turn to a full belly laugh and you wipe your finger over Rafayel’s lipstick stained lips. He kisses your fingers before reaching out to free your necklaces from under your makeshift top. 

Looking in the mirror you are shocked at how effortlessly Rafayel made a simple scarf into a beautiful top. The necklaces sit neatly in the folds around your neck and make the golden threading more prominent. 

“So fucking beautiful.”

Your cheeks flush and you try to distract yourself by fixing your lipstick. He grabs your jacket and guides your arms through the sleeves. He surprises you when he kneels beside your bed and lifts a hand. You approach slowly, unsure what he’s up to. He picks up one of the heels off your bed and points to your foot. You lift your foot and his hand circles your ankle. He slides the heel on and sets your foot down, reaching for the other shoe and waiting for you to lift your other foot. He repeats the action, but kisses the top of your foot before setting it down. 

“Ready?”

You’re actually speechless. All he did was help you get dressed and here you are barely keeping it together. He stands and offers his arm and you take it, your body buzzing with anticipation for what the night will hold. 

He brought a different car tonight, you’re not a car girl but you recognize the bright red Ferrari Enzo. Rafayel had done a spread in a tattoo magazine and posed with it on the cover. He opens the door for you and helps you in. He climbs in and the engine roars to life, its gritty rumble makes your chest shake. You instinctively reach out and grab Rafayel’s hand that’s resting on the gear shift. He links his fingers with yours and rests your joined hands on his thigh as he takes off.

The drive to the club was quiet, the street lights only ribbons passing by. Rafayel gives you the rundown regarding Sylus’s club, Paradise. 

“He has a shit ton of security, all well trained. Even his dancers and waitresses are trained in self-defense, he requires it. We both have people working the floor so we’ll stay in the VIP section with him, okay?”

You nod and give his hand a squeeze. 

“You good?”

You nod again, distracted by the flashing red lights a few streets in front of you. 

“We’re here.”

Rafayel pulls into the lot where the lights originate and you gasp. The building is huge, at least four stories, the black brick splattered with dripping red paint. Massive stained glass windows, which probably stand two stories tall, glow with the pulsing lights from inside the club. If you didn’t know better you’d think this was a cathedral, even spotting gargoyles lining the side of the building.

The long red carpet is packed with club goers and two burley bouncers stand at the entrance. The valet greets Rafayel and you barely register that your door is being opened. You hold onto Rafayel as he saunters to the front of the line. 

You feel the glares of those waiting and you try your best to ignore their twinge of anxiety forming at the back of your throat. Sudden flashes take you by surprise and one of the bouncers shoves a photographer back to usher you and Rafayel into the building. Once inside, you can’t hear anything but the rhythm of dark and bassy club anthems. 

Inside, you are conflicted yet again, this place had to be a church beforehand. With the stained glass windows, ribbed vaulting line the ceiling, every doorway has a pointed arch, two prominent aisles lined with pillars block off sitting areas and where the altar would be a huge DJ station sits. A large curved bar seems to have taken residence in the ambulatory circling around the raised DJ station. Red and purple lights drown the space and glints of gold catch your eye - sconces, lanterns, any metal detailing is glimmering like an ancient treasure. 

Rafayel leads you through a side door, leaving the chaotic sanctuary behind. The music softens slightly in the narrow stone stairwell. You follow behind him and find yourself in the gallery, over the railing you see the dancers sway to the music and gather around waiters to take shots or glasses of champagne. Then you are walking directly next to the massive stained glass windows. The artwork doesn’t depict the typical Biblical imagery, instead images of mythical beings are painted in vibrant hues. A gorgeous Pegasus with skeletal wings flies next to a dark red dragon. Another window holds the image of a minotaur fighting a sphinx, claws and horns clash in a brutal scene. The final window you pass you see a spectacular ocean and sky standing side by side. A phoenix soaring through the sky while a mermaid glides through the water, mirroring each other's movement in their own element. 

You hear Rafayel speaking with another guard and you’re pulled through an ornate door. On the other side, there’s small corner booths and standing tables scattered around. A private bar sits at the back of the room, the bartender wearing a mask with black feathers serves a couple leaning against the bar. A large balcony overlooks the club, many VIPs sip their drinks while watching the dancers below. 

You spot a familiar silhouette. Sylus stands at the center of the balcony, his white hair tinted red under the light. Rafayel approaches, he holds your hand tightly and you squeeze, trying to reassure him you’re okay. Sylus turns, the head of his dragon tattoo peeks out from behind his unbuttoned dress shirt. With his dark suit jacket hanging off his shoulders he looks ready to take flight. He locks eyes with you, something dark stirs behind those ruby eyes. But as quickly as you register the look it vanishes, replaced with his usual swagger. 

“Welcome to Paradise.”

You chuckle and graciously take a glass of champagne from the waiter that approaches you and Rafayel, who also takes a glass. You raise the glass to Sylus.

“It’s certainly not what I expected, but it is beautiful.”

Sylus smiles as he lifts his glass to his lips, he downs the dark amber liquid in one go and sets it on the waiter's tray. The waiter instantly turns to leave and Sylus steps closer.

“My people are tracking two right now. They won’t act, it’d be a death sentence. Regardless, keep your eyes open. And most importantly…”

He offers his hand to you and you hesitate for a moment before accepting. He lifts your hand to his mouth, his soft lips press against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Rafayel releases your hand and tucks his arm around your waist. You can feel Sylus’s breath against your skin as he laughs. He lets you go and takes a step back. 

“Enjoy the night. I’ll be around. Just say my name and I’ll be there.”

“Like a ghost?” You joke.

“Like an angel.” He says with a wink.

“More like a devil.” Rafayel mutters through gritted teeth.

Sylus lets out another breathy laugh. He pats Rafayel on the shoulder before sauntering away, leaving the VIP section.

“Madam, would you like your jacket checked?”

The waiter reappears and offers his hand to take your jacket. You shrug it off your shoulder and hand it to him.

“Yes, thank you!”

He nods and disappears to hang up your jacket. Rafayel kisses your shoulder. You lean against him and sip your champagne.

“Was this place a church?”

Rafayel leads you closer to the balcony and you look down at the crowd. You can see the whole bar, the DJ stand, the general sitting area - every corner is packed with people. 

“No, actually. Sylus had it built specifically to look like this. Hired an architect with a specialty in historical design and commissioned me to do the stained glass.”

“You designed the windows?”

He nods, craning his neck to look at the three windows above the DJ stand. The most prominent windows serve as the artistic centerpiece for the club, each window intricately designed featuring three creatures. The first appears to be a knight in golden armor surrounded by planets and stars. The knight fights against chains wrapped around its neck, raising a glowing sword poised to strike. The second a dark dragon, similar to the one you saw during your walk through the gallery. However, this one has what appears to be a massive hole in its chest where its heart should be. And the third is a merman, or maybe a siren. Its powerful tail wrapped around a broken ship mast, the sails torn and floating in bloody waves behind him. 

“They’re kind of tragic… Amazing, but… tragic.”

Rafayel stares at the windows, his hand falling from your waist to rest on the railing of the balcony. You place your hand over his and watch him for a moment. A pained expression crosses his face. He looks at the ground and shuffles his feet. 

“Do you wanna know why Sylus named this place Paradise?”

You lean against the railing and nod.

“He told me ‘even monsters deserve a paradise.’”

“I don’t understand…”

He turns to face you, the moonlight filtered through the stained glass glows around his figure. 

“Ever heard the saying ‘you’re the villain in someone’s story’?” You nod. “It’s kind of like that. Sometimes you’re the monster and you don’t want to be. But sometimes you do… want to be. Here, it doesn’t matter.”

He takes your hand and pulls you to him. His hips start to sway to the music and you bite your lip. He spins you around and holds your waist to dip you back. Once he brings you upright, you turn around and press your back against his chest. You mirror his movements, swaying your hips to the beat. He brings his hips forward and you grind your ass against his groin. He rests his hands on the front of your hips and dips his head down to kiss your shoulder. 

The beat quickens and your hips follow suit. You hear him groan softly in your ear and you reach your arm back to play with the soft curls that trail down the nape of his neck. You lean your head back on his shoulder and close your eyes. The music swells and the images from the windows flash through your mind. The golden knight, the dragon, the siren. Monsters to some, beautiful and regal to others. For a moment, you imagine them in this place, safe and free. 

“Do you want to see something?”

Rafayel’s voice breaks through the vision and you nod breathlessly. He takes your hand and you follow him through the ornate door, through the gallery and down the stairwell. At the base of the stairwell there is another door. A thumbpad above the handle suggests it’s most likely for staff. Rafayel places his thumb down and the pad glows green, the door clicks open. He looks over his shoulder at you.

“Perks of knowing the owner.” 

You follow him through the door and down a dark staircase, the door locking behind you. Fluorescent lights flicker as you descend deeper beneath the club. You are pulled through another door and gawk at just how massive this underground level is. Large round tables sit in each corner of the room, a circular bar at the center. 

Waitresses saunter around the room serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the patrons seated at the tables. From the entrance you can see playing cards laid out and it clicks. You’re in an underground poker den. You spot Sylus at one of the tables leaning back in his chair while he swirls the drink in his glass. Rafayel holds your hand as you approach Sylus’s table. Sylus smiles when he sees you approaching. 

“Welcome to The Abyss.”

Sylus stands and taps the shoulder of the man sitting next to him, he stands, places his cards down and walks to another table. Sylus pulls the chair back, motioning for you to take it. You hear Rafayel sigh and give his hand a squeeze. You sit down and you turn to see Rafayel place his hands on the shoulders of the stranger beside you. He tenses before tossing his cards down and quickly leaving the table. Rafayel is about to sit down when his phone rings. When he checks the screen, he gives you an apologetic look.

“I have to take this, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You nod and he walks to the bar before answering his phone. You’re curious why he had to walk away, but you’ll ask him later. You turn to face Sylus to find him staring at you. You lean back and meet his gaze, completely unaware of how the game at the table has stalled. 

“So, The Abyss?”

“Seemed fitting since so many people get swept away with greed or ill intentions when they’re down here.”

You laugh and lean towards him.

“I imagine it’s pretty easy to lose yourself when booze and Billie Holiday are involved.”

His face lights up when you recognize the artist, a genuine smile replacing his sarcastic smirk. 

“This album is one of my favorites.”

“Lady in Satin, nice choice.”

Sylus’s smile widens further and he rests his hand on the back of your chair. He’s failing to hide how giddy he is, and you’re excited to see this side of him.

“Not many people recognize the classics, I’m impressed.”

You smile and poke his chest.

“You’re not the only one with good taste. Rafayel told me you had this place built to look… like this… You hired a specialist in historical architecture?”

“I did and it was worth every penny. Do you think it’s offensive?”

You shake your head, leaning your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand. 

“If anything, I think it’s interesting. I’ve never been to a nightclub in a cathedral before. Now I can say I have.”

A waitress places a martini in front of you, taking you by surprise. You nod at her as she walks away before picking up the glass. Sylus reaches out and takes the cocktail pick out of your drink. He eats your olive and winks at you. You push your lip out in a dramatic pout.

“How dare you, I wanted that!”

Sylus waves the cocktail pick at the waitress and you look over to watch her prepare something behind the counter. Rafayel leans against the bar nearby and shoots you a smile before mouthing a quick “sorry” and continuing his call. The waitress exits the bar and you spot a small bowl of olives on her tray.

“Sylus! I didn’t need –”

“While you’re here, you’ll get whatever you want, kitten.”

The nickname takes you by surprise and you cross your arms. The waitress sets the bowl down beside you and pats your shoulder.

“Don’t worry darlin’, he does this all the time. I had this ready before I brought your drink over.”

Sylus chuckles and the waitress pats your shoulder again before heading back to the bar. You teasingly punch Sylus’s arm.

“How did she know?”

“Aubrey is very perceptive. Is there anything else you’d like? Just tell me.”

“Tell him what?”

Rafayel’s voice surprises you, his hand rests on your shoulder as he sits. You shift in your seat and take a sip of your martini. You pucker your lips and reach for an olive, the saltiness hits the spot and you sigh. You drop another olive in the glass.

“Start a new game, deal these two in.” 

You stare at Sylus. 

“I doubt I can afford the buy in.”

Sylus tilts his head and looks past you at Rafayel. You turn to see he’s already pressed his card to the panel in front of you, buying you in for $10k in chips. You slap his hand.

“Rafayel!”

He presses his card to the panel in front of him and buys into the game himself. 

“Relax cutie, just beat me and you can pay me back.”

Oh. The alcohol coursing through your veins gives you the courage you need to keep a straight face. This will be fun. You pick at your fingernails in your lap and shrug your shoulders.

“Fine… fine. I’m already bought in, might as well try. But I don’t care about money. If I somehow win, I want something.”

Sylus leans forward, intrigued. Rafayel nods and hangs his arm over the back of the chair waiting for you to make your bet.

“If I win I get to… give you a tattoo.”

Rafayel’s brows shoot up and Sylus laughs loudly.

“A tattoo? Really?”

You nod and finish off your drink. Sylus lifts a finger towards the bar and the waitress begins to prepare another drink for you.

“What do I get if I win?”

Rafayel leans closer, his fingers gliding along your arm making goosebumps rise. 

“What do you want?”

Rafayel’s expression darkens and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I’ve always wanted to try photography… but I need a model.”

You feel your cheeks flush, the implications clear when he drops his hand to your thigh. You narrow your eyes and flash a smile. You’re almost tempted to throw the game now. 

“Okay. Deal.”

He extends his hand and you shake it firmly. Sylus nods at the dealer and they begin passing out cards. You hold your breath and pray for a decent hand. You’ll bluff your way to victory if all else fails. 

The cards slide across the table into a neat stack in front of you. You place your hand over your cards and carefully lift the corners to check. Jack of Hearts and King of Hearts, decent. It’s time to overreact, Rafayel doesn’t know you spent almost every lunch period in school playing poker with your best friend. Caleb never let you win, he forced you to improve your skills and when you finally beat him the satisfaction made up for every loss. 

“The game is Texas Hold ‘Em, no limits. Place your bets.”

The first two men fold and Sylus tosses two chips to the center of the table. You tap your fingers on your cards, trying to appear thoughtful. You pick up two chips and toss them in.

“Call.”

Rafayel follows suit and the dealer flips the first card. A Jack of Clubs. A two or three pair is possible, if you are willing to risk it. The dealer looks at Sylus, who hasn’t stopped staring at you. You can feel his heated gaze and your ear burns. He tosses another two chips in, has he even looked at his cards? You call as does Rafayel.

Another card is revealed, a King of Spades. A two pair, it was something to stand on. The final card would determine if you needed to put on an act or just sit back and enjoy your win. Sylus tosses five chips in and you purposefully roll your shoulders, trying to appear tense, as if the bet was getting a little too high.

You call and turn to face Rafayel, scanning his face for any signs of a tell. He’s all smiles as he taps the center of his forehead with his index finger, considering the bet. He pushes his remaining chips to the center of the table. 

“All in.”

You raise a brow, allowing him to see your surprise, but not revel in it. You look over at Sylus who is finally taking a look at his cards. You doubt he will have any tells but you examine him anyway. The way his brows furrow, his chin tilts up and he drags his finger along the edge of the cards. You get the feeling he doesn’t care about the money, he just wants to see how your bet with Rafayel plays out. You’re still considering his motives when he pushes his chips towards the pile.

“Call.”

Both men stare at you now. Was this hand worth it? Is this what Sylus meant by losing oneself to greed? Wanting to win so badly you’ll risk it all? You close your eyes, letting the muscles in your face relax.

“Call.”

Rafayel chuckles quietly as you push your chips to the center. The dealer turns over the final card and you hold your breath. A fucking Jack of Diamonds. You have a Full House. There was no sequential order to the cards so they couldn’t have Four of a Kind since you had a King card yourself. Best they could do is a three pair… You won. You finally lift your eyes and peek at your cards again, looking “concerned.” 

“Showdown.”

The dealer leans onto the table to watch the reveal. Sylus flips his first, an Ace of Clubs and an Ace of Diamonds. A Two Pair wasn’t bad, especially if you and Rafayel were bluffing. Sylus leans back and crosses his legs, bringing his glass to his lips and sipping slowly. 

You look at Rafayel, he’s tapping his forehead with his finger again, his smile flashing the gem adhered to his tooth. 

“Last chance cutie. Say the word and maybe I’ll let you off the hook.”

He is still tapping his forehead. This must be his tell. Adorable. You’ll certainly use this to your advantage in the future.

“Not a chance.”

“Okay… Show at the same time then?”

You nod and Rafayel picks up his cards. He counts down and you hesitate, letting him lay his cards down first - give him a single moment of pride. A Jack of Spades and a 4 of Clubs. Three of a Kind, enough to beat Sylus, but not enough to beat you. When you lay your cards down Sylus claps.

“Very impressive performance, sweetie.”

You smile at Sylus before finally turning to face Rafayel, who is already pouting. 

“A Full House. You had a goddamn Full House?!”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. He runs a hand through his hair.

“You played me.”

You take his hand and give it a squeeze. He yanks his hand free before looping his arm around your neck and pulling you into a tight hug. His face is buried in your neck.

“Guess I still have a lot to learn about you cutie. Hope you’re ready for an interrogation.”

The sound of shoes approaching makes you pull back. You look over your shoulder and see a man in a suit leaning down to speak into Sylus’ ear. Sylus nods and as soon as the man turns to leave he stands and motions for you and Rafayel to follow him. 

He takes you into a backroom with several shelving units packed with liquor. A cozy sofa and mini-fridge sit in the corner next to a row of lockers. Sylus begins to pace and Rafayel straddles the arm of the couch.

“What happened?”

“We found our man, but he slipped away. Turns out he is undercover, but we don’t know who he works for exactly. My team lost track of him when he hopped on a bike out back. They got his plate number and they’re going through camera footage for a clear shot of his face.”

You cross your arms and step closer to Sylus.

“Can I have the plate number?”

Sylus looks at you with a rare expression, shock. 

“As a hunter I have access to certain things and maybe I can get more information for you.”

“Sweetie, we have ways of getting that intel ourselves you shouldn’t –”

You hold up a hand, silencing him.

“A way that won’t set off any alarms? As a hunter, I’m technically a member of law enforcement, so doing a routine search for a plate won’t raise suspicion. I want to help, so let me.”

Sylus tucks his hands in his pockets and steps even closer, his essence flooding your senses. The scent of whiskey and vanilla, the harsh fluorescent light reflecting off of his silk button up, he commands attention and you can’t help but stare. 

“Alright.” 

He grabs a napkin from the top of the mini fridge and takes a pen out of his breast pocket. He looks at you and twirls his finger. You squint at him and he repeats the motion, you realize he’s telling you to turn around. You slowly turn and he places the napkin on your back and begins writing.

“Are you using me to–”

He shushes you and when you feel the pen stop you turn to face him. He hands the napkin to you.

“We’ll meet mid-week. Just be sure not to dig your claws in too deep, kitten.”

You can feel Rafayel’s eyes on you, but you dare to step closer.

“Okay, what’s with this ‘kitten’ bullshit?”

Sylus chuckles.

“You just remind me of a mischievous kitten, that’s all.”

You put your hands on your hips and try your best to glare at this mountain of a man.

“Okay, how about we try… Bakeneko? Still a kitten, but twice as fierce.”

Great, he was referring to you as a monster cat, known for being little menaces to those around them. You should be angry, but instead you feel your heart swell with pride. To have your own yokai alias made you feel like you’re a part of their world. You decide to concede for now, the nickname could be worse. 

“Fine.”

Sylus laughs and pulls his phone out, tapping it twice before a knock at the door makes you jump. The man who spoke to Sylus at the table enters and hands Sylus a manila folder. He immediately hands it to you. You open it and see a short list of information regarding the individual including the license plate number. You close it and stare at the napkin in your other hand. You look up at Sylus.

“Wait… then what…?”

You open the napkin and see a phone number. Sylus extends his hand and you’re too dumbfounded by his forwardness to register your own actions. You extend your hand and another gentle kiss graces your knuckles. 

“I’ll speak to you soon, Bakeneko.”

Sylus leaves the room and you turn to face Rafayel. A subtle pout plays on his lips and you quickly lift his chin to kiss it away. He sighs and rests his hands on your hips. 

“Can we get out of here?”

You nod and give him a devious grin. He shrinks back and narrows his eyes at you.

“You have a tattoo appointment after all.”

The bell above the door at Lemuria Studios chimes loudly as you and Rafayel stumble inside. Rafayel has you on his back, holding your legs while your arms wrap around his neck. He kicks the door closed behind him and turns around to press his thumb to the keypad locking it again.

As he walks through the studio your heels slip off your feet and clatter to the floor. He sets you down when he reaches the door to his private studio and unlocks it. You shuffle inside and start examining the various machines and tools. 

“So what are ya lookin’ to get today sir?”

Rafayel laughs and moves you to the side to start preparing a station for you. He quickly washes his hands and puts on fresh gloves. You watch him line a metal tray with plastic wrap and secure it with tape. He pulls out two squeeze bottles from a lower cabinet, wrapping them with plastic wrap as well before setting on the tray. He grabs a new disposable razor from a drawer and secures the guard before setting it down. Taking a popsicle stick, he dips into a Vaseline jar and dabs it on the tray, placing small dots close by. He sets two ink caps on the tiny Vaseline dots, the caps sinking into the gel like glue. 

You hop up to sit on the counter next to him while he works and you lean down to kiss his temple.

“What colors do you want cutie?”

You look at the bin he pulls out of the cabinet and sift through the bottles. 

“Let’s just go with black, I’ll work up the courage to try color another time.”

“Oh, another time? Is this your new hobby?”

He pours black ink into the caps before closing the bottle and returning the bin to the cabinet. He places the new needle, still in its packaging, on the counter while he does a quick inspection of his tattoo machine. He unwraps the container and carefully removes the needle, sliding it in place. He pulls a small bag out of a drawer and drapes it over the gun, securing it with hot pink grip tape. After connecting the power cord, he kicks over the foot pedal and sets the machine on the tray. He sets the tray on the mobile cart next to him and rolls it over to the stool. 

He points at the sink and you hop off the counter. As you wash your hands, a sudden wave of anxiety hits you. He’s actually going to let you tattoo him? What if you hurt him? What if it’s ugly? Will he be mad? What are you doing?

“I think your hands are clean…”

You look down to see your hands are red from how hard you were scrubbing them. You dry them with a paper towel and he holds out the box of gloves for you. As you tug on a pair of gloves you watch him clean the chair he’ll sit on. When he finally looks up at you his smile instantly falls.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure this is okay?”

He places his hands on your shoulders and kisses your forehead. 

“I am.”

“But what if it’s ugly or I mess up or –”

“You wanna know how I see tattoos? It’s like a photograph, it takes you back to a previous version of yourself and you get to remember who you were and how far you’ve come. 50 years from now, I will look at the tattoo you gave me and remember this time in my life. And I’ll remember how cute you were worrying about giving me an ugly tattoo.”

You look at your feet, overwhelmed with your racing thoughts. The question you’ve been dying to ask gets trapped in your throat. This isn’t the time or place. Rafayel gently holds your chin and makes you look at him. 

“What are you thinking?”

“What if you regret it?”

His eyes soften as begins to understand your fear. He lets go of your chin and turns to the counter, opening a drawer. You hear him moving things around for a moment before turning around and holding a pen. He cleans the pen with a wipe and hands it to you. You realize it’s a tattoo pen, he used a similar one to draw the finer details of your tattoo before going in with the needle. He shrugs off his suit jacket, tossing it on the counter before sitting down on the padded bed and folding his hands in his lap.

“A tattoo is a moment, and in this moment, there’s nothing I want more than your artwork on my body. Okay, well… there is another thing, but we probably shouldn’t do that in my studio.”

He winks at you and you almost chuck the pen at his head.

“Also… I will never regret knowing you.”

Your eyes water and you roll your neck in an attempt to hide the wave of emotions that just crashed over you. How did he know? You walk over to him and uncap the pen. 

“Where do you want it, pretty boy?”

He starts to slowly unbutton his dress shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his torso. He lays back on the table and places a hand behind his head. With his other hand he points to his hip, right above the waistband of his pants. Your eyes widen and you feel how very dry your mouth has become.

“O-okay.”

You use your foot to tug the stool over and you sit, placing your elbows on the edge of the table and staring at his hip. 

“You have to clean and shave the area before drawing anything. Use the green bottle first, then shave, then the clear one.”

You follow his instructions, cleaning his skin and gliding the razor over a small patch of skin. As you do the final cleaning step you bite your lip, you knew what you wanted to draw but doubted your skills. You take a deep breath and begin lightly drawing the outline of your design. You make several adjustments using a makeshift eraser of paper towel dipped in the clear cleanser. Rafayel doesn’t move, he lets you doodle and brainstorm for over an hour. Finally, you sit back and smile.

“Do you want to look at it before I start?”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. 

“Let’s keep it a surprise.”

You pick up the tattoo gun and stare at it like you’ve never seen one before. You clear your throat and gently step on the pedal hearing the machine buzz to life.

“It’s not as scary as it looks.”

You look up to see Rafayel still has his eyes closed. 

“Go slow, focus on drawing straight small lines at first. You don’t have to push, just let the machine do the work. Use the paper towel to clear the excess ink. You’ve got this. Oh, and dip your pinkie in the Vaseline, it’ll keep your stencil from smudging.”

You hold the machine with a firm hand and dip the tip in the ink cap. You follow Rafayel’s advice and dip the side of your pinkie in the Vaseline before resting the side of your palm on his stomach. You cautiously draw your first line and wipe at the spot with a paper towel. You’re pleased to see the line is dark and relatively straight. You giggle and dip the needle in the ink cap continuing your work.

Rafayel remains completely still. His steady breathing keeps you calm. With each line, you become more and more confident. 

“Let me know if you need more ink.”

“I’m good. I wish I could do some shading, but I don’t think I’m good enough for that.”

Rafayel chuckles. You set down the tattoo gun and wipe it down one last time. 

“Okay… I think I’m done.”

Rafayel opens his eyes and sits up. You stand from the stool and watch him stride to the mirror. He stands close and looks between the mirror and his skin. The tattoo itself is more “cutsie” compared to the more intricate artwork he has covering his skin. A small fan-tailed fish floats above a kitten on their back. The small kitten has its paws extended towards the fish, its tail curled and a tiny smile under its button nose. 

“I wanted to add bubbles, but they’d just look like circles without shading so…”

Rafayel turns and grabs your face with both hands, he kisses you hard. His hands drop from your face to your hips. You sigh into his mouth and he forces himself to pull back. 

“It’s amazing. I would never have guessed this was your first tattoo. How about this, I’ll add some shading to it for you, yea?”

You nod and reach for the bandage Rafayel laid out on the counter. You press the bandage to his hip and use medical tape to secure it. He moves the tray to the counter and kicks the stool into the corner. As soon as you peel your gloves off, Rafayel’s hands are all over you. He pulls you back to him and drags his fingers down your arms, lifting your hands to his shoulders. He dives back in, capturing your lips with his own. He takes a step back and you follow his lead, he backs you against the padded table across the room.

His fingers fiddle with the knot holding the scarf around your chest. You feel the fabric loosen and slowly fall away. The cool air against your bare chest makes your nipples harden and you lean into Rafayel’s warmth. With his chest against yours, you feel his heart pounding. His nipple rings rub against your sensitive peaks and your breathy moans fill the room. He runs his fingers through your hair and you lean back, damn near lying on the table. 

You swiftly undo his belt and he kicks his pants down his legs and into a corner. Your hands are just dipping down the front of his boxers when he grabs your wrist.

“Turn around.”

His commanding voice takes you by surprise. Rafayel loved to switch up positions in the bedroom, but he usually prefers when you take the lead. It seems tonight he was worked up for some reason. You make a mental note to ask him about it later, for now you can only focus on how he unbuckles your belt and tugs your pants down with fervor. 

“I thought you said… we shouldn't do this in your studio…”

He silences you once his hand wraps around you and he fingers your clit, he traces circles slowly. You whine and push your hips back. He leans against you, his chest pressed to your back. He places open mouth kisses to your shoulder and up your neck, his voice is barely above a whisper. 

“I want you to know… I will spend every hour… of every day proving to you… that I will never regret knowing you.”

His cock presses against your entrance he begins rolling his hips forward, dragging his cock through your slick cunt. You let your head fall forward back, your forehead resting on the table. He runs his tip over your clit with his piercing. 

“Rafayel… fuck… please!”

He continues teasing you for another moment before you feel that perfect stretch that only his cock can provide. Your chest heaves and a guttural groan erupts from Rafayel’s throat. He lets go of your hips to hold onto the table. He’s halfway in when you feel your knees give out, Rafayel wraps an arm around you and thrusts his hips forward filling you completely.

“Right there oh god oh god yes Rafayel yes!”

He presses his face against your back and lets out a low growl. You know he’s close so you hold your breath and press your hips back. He suddenly pulls out and turns you around. He hikes your leg up over his hip before burying himself into your tight heat once again. You cling to him, your fingernails digging into his upper back. He gasps and he throws his head back. He finally lays you back on the table, one of his arms tucked under you. He grips your thigh and looks down at you with hooded eyes. Sweat drips down his cheek dripping onto your chest. 

“Shit shit shiiiiit baby I need to –”

He’s cut off with the sound of a bell ringing. The bell above the front door. You hadn’t even realized what time it was, early morning sunlight was just starting to filter through the windows. Rafayel bites his lip and slows his movements for a moment. You hear footsteps moving across the hardwood floors and the jingle of keys. You look over his shoulder and stare at the door, trying to steady your breathing. You’re about to uncross your ankles and move away when Rafayel rams his hips forward. 

“Raf!” You whisper yell.

You glare at him but his expression remains the same. His mouth covers yours in an attempt to silence you and your eyes roll back. A knock brings both of you to a halt. 

“Rafayel? Are you in there?”

Thomas, the studio manager, stands just outside the door and knocks again. Rafayel lifts his head and slowly rolls his hips, you close your eyes and try to keep your building orgasm at bay until Thomas is gone. But as Rafayel continues his movements, you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from crying out. So you lunge forward and sink your teeth into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

Rafayel shouts, not in pain, but rather surprise. There’s another knock on the door. 

“Rafayel?”

Rafayel slams his hand against the table, making the legs squeak against the floor. His cock twitches and you squeeze your thighs against his waist.

“Yeah… yes, sorry I stubbed my toe. Fuck!”

Your teeth sink deeper until you taste something metallic. He drags his hips back until only his tip remains tucked in your tight heat. He rams his hips forward and as soon as his piercing hits your g-spot you come. The sudden burst of warmth gushes over his cock and down his thighs. Your orgasm makes you bite down harder causing his release to spill into you.

A loud scoff from Thomas is heard through the door. 

“You know you can just say you’re fucking your girlfriend, right? Her heels are in the lobby.”

You unlock your jaw and release his shoulder, your head hits the table with a quiet thud. 

“Sorry Thomas…”

Your breathy apology makes Rafayel chuckle. He rests his forehead against yours as his cock softens inside you. He kisses the tip of your nose and looks down at you with such reverence your eyes start to water again. He kisses your cheeks and when a tear falls, he kisses it away humming softly. 

“Just clean the room before opening, please. I’m going to get another coffee.”

You hear his footsteps fade and the bell above the front door chime. Rafayel slips out of you and picks you up, setting you on the table. He runs his tongue over his labret piercing, sucking into his mouth. This cute little habit of his usually means he’s overthinking. You lift your hand and tug on his bottom lip with your thumb. He releases his piercing and sighs.

“We’ve never talked about that…”

“About what?”

“Using titles… like that.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and he steps forward between your legs.

“Do you want to use titles?”

“I’d… love to call you my girlfriend, but do you want to call me your boyfriend?”

You cup his cheeks in your hands and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“My boyfriend.”

You kiss the tip of his nose.

“My boyfriend, Rafayel.”

You kiss his left cheek and then his right.

He leans into your touch, savoring each kiss.

“Yes, I’d love to call you mine.”

Before he can pull you into another kiss, your eyes catch the swollen red spot on his shoulder. You see your bite mark, a small drop of blood trickling down to his chest. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I didn’t… I shouldn’t have…”

He looks down at his shoulder and wipes the blood away with his thumb. 

“I’m fine! You were just marking your territory.”

You slap his chest and he pulls you into a hug, his hands rub your back and you melt into his embrace. To think a few weeks ago you were on this table getting a tattoo and now you’re naked, holding onto your boyfriend. A sexy tattoo artist who has an illegal hobby of street racing his high end motorcycle and is much more complex than you could ever imagine. You’re not sure how, but the unexpected direction your life has taken has only brought you joy. And you’re excited to see where life with Rafayel takes you.

(AN Part 2: I don't know how to play poker, so I hope this is accurate! Also, mini spoiler for Part 3 - more crowfish smut. Smile.)

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @spacegroteske @namjoonseuphoria @celestialforce @rafshottestgf @oxamarok @withering-dream @zaynessbeloved @animecrazy76 @yournextdoorhousewitch @hauntedbysmut @addiglessthanthree @4ttack-ur-heart

[blondemrk]

IN ANOTHER LIFE

p jaemin x fem!reader genre angst. wc 700

the first time you met na jaemin, you were six years old, sitting alone on the swings at the neighborhood park, watching the other kids play. he had run up to you, all bright eyes and a toothy grin, and asked, “wanna race to the slide?”

and just like that, he became your best friend.

for years, you were inseparable. running through the streets barefoot in the summer, sneaking out to the convenience store at midnight, whispering your dreams into the night sky. you told him everything—your fears, your hopes, your secret wish to fall in love with someone who would look at you like you were the only person in the world.

the problem was, you had already fallen.

and jaemin never saw you that way.

the wedding invitation sits on your desk, unopened.

you don’t need to read it to know what it says. the elegant calligraphy spelling out jaemin’s name alongside someone else’s is already burned into your mind.

he had called you the moment he proposed, voice filled with excitement. “i can’t wait for you to meet her,” he had said. “you’re gonna love her.”

you had laughed, masking the way your heart clenched. “i’m sure i will.”

but the truth was, you had already met her.

and you hated that she was everything he deserved.

you don’t remember when it started—when the innocent warmth of childhood friendship morphed into something deeper.

maybe it was the way jaemin always knew how to make you laugh, even on your worst days. or the way his hand lingered just a little too long when he brushed hair out of your face.

or maybe it was the way he never looked at you the way you looked at him.

you told yourself it was enough. that being his best friend, standing beside him, was better than losing him altogether.

but then she came along.

and suddenly, jaemin’s late-night texts became less frequent. the spontaneous trips to your favorite café turned into plans that always ended with, “sorry, i’m with her tonight.”

you told yourself you were happy for him.

that if anyone deserved love, it was jaemin.

but when he held her hand for the first time in front of you, something inside you shattered.

and he never even noticed.

the wedding is in three weeks.

three weeks to figure out if you can watch the love of your life vow forever to someone else without breaking apart.

“you’re really going, huh?” chenle asks, watching you from across the table.

you sigh, picking at your food. “i don’t know.”

“you don’t have to do this to yourself, you know.”

but you do. because jaemin is your best friend, and best friends show up for each other, no matter how much it hurts.

the night before the wedding

the city skyline stretches beyond the balcony, the lights reflecting in jaemin’s eyes as he leans against the railing, sipping his drink.

“you okay?” he asks, turning to you.

you nod. “yeah. just… thinking.”

jaemin smiles, nudging you playfully. “about what?”

you could tell him the truth. that you’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. that every moment you spent together was a battle between wanting to stay by his side and wanting to run away before it hurt even more.

but instead, you force a laugh. “just… how crazy it is that you’re getting married tomorrow.”

his gaze softens. “yeah. it still doesn’t feel real.”

“are you happy?”

jaemin blinks, surprised by the question. then, slowly, he smiles. “yeah. i am.”

and that’s all you need to hear.

even if it breaks you.

the ceremony is beautiful. every detail is perfect, from the flowers lining the aisle to the way jaemin looks at her as she walks toward him.

and you realize—he never looked at you like that.

not once.

your hands tremble in your lap as they exchange vows, as jaemin slides the ring onto her finger, sealing a promise that was never meant for you.

“in another life,” you whisper under your breath, just as the priest announces, “you may kiss the bride.”

and as jaemin kisses her, you let go.

finally.

IM SORRY FOR THIS ONE .

[multiversefanfics]

Dear Dean

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warning: cussing, sadness, heartbreak Summary: You broke up with Dean with a letter Letter in bold Word Count: 853

You, Sam, and Dean were on a hunt once again, you help Sam with the research you never actually go out on the hunt, but you and Dean argued before he left. He drunkenly flirted with a waitress in front of you at the bar the three of you went to last night, he didn’t realize what he was doing until he turned and looked at you after talking to the waitress, he sobered up quickly when you stormed out the bar. He mentally punched himself and followed you outside “Y/N! Y/N wait!” He chased after you, but you didn’t stop walking, Dean caught up grabbed your arm gently and spun you around “Y/N I didn’t mean it.”

You snatched your arm from his grip “You didn’t mean it? C’mon Dean be fucking forreal, you always do this, and I’ve ignored it for so long but enough is enough.” You stared deep into his eyes, tears streaming down your face “You never cared about me, the ‘tough guy’ act is getting old and I’m tired of it!” You started to walk away and he grabbed your arm again “Y/N please I can’t live without you, I love you” You laughed coldly and rolled your eyes “You don’t love me, if you did you wouldn’t flirt with every woman you see”

Dean looked defeated when you removed your arm from his hand again “I need space, Dean.” He nodded and backed away. You continued back to the motel. You walked into the room you shared with Sam and Dean as soon as the door shut, you broke down, letting out small sobs. You stood there for another minute and took a deep breath "Pull yourself together." You whispered over and over to yourself.

You finally pulled yourself off the door and over to the table. You looked around for pen and paper, and to no avail, you couldn't find any. "What motel doesn't have pen and paper?" You sighed and opened Sam's laptop "I guess this will do." You stared at the screen for a bit then began typing.

Dear Dean,

I want to start off by saying I truly love you and will always love you, but the way you've been treating me lately, I can't look past. I know you mean well, but you never take into account how I feel. You only care about yourself, and for some reason, I ignored those red flags. I loved the time we spent together, and there were some good times, and those are what I choose to hang on to.

You mean the absolute world to me, and it pains me to leave this, to leave you this way. I know Sam is standing in front of you, watching your facial expressions, please let him know that I am sorry to do this to you and him. You both are important to me, and maybe in the future, we can all be together again, but for right now, I need to go.

I love you, Dean Winchester.

With love, Y/N

You wiped the tears from your face and reread your note, you didn't even bother grabbing your duffle bag, it was full of Dean's clothes anyway. You sighed and took one last look at the room, then walked out the door. You hated leaving like this, but you knew if you did it in person, you wouldn't leave. Dean would give you those famous puppy dog eyes, and you'd fall right back into his arms.

You were long gone before the boys got back to the motel; Dean figured a few hours alone would be enough time for you to calm down and have a conversation with him. The entire time at the bar after you left, he chugged water to sober up. Dean came through the door hoping to see you in bed asleep or at least just lying there waiting for him.

He looked around for you, but you were nowhere to be found "Y/N?" He checked the bathroom, and that's when the panic set in. Did someone take you? He rushed back into the main room, still looking around, hoping you had just come into the room. "Uh, Dean..." Dean stopped in his tracks and looked over at Sam who was fixated on the computer screen

"Not now, Sam. I can't find Y/N." Sam stood up, not taking his eyes off the screen "Yeah, I think I know why." Dean's head snapped in the direction of where Sam was and went over to see what he was looking at. Dean sat down and read the screen; he went through several waves of emotions in a span of 30 seconds. The last emotion he experienced was anger.

Dean flipped the chair to his right. Then punched the wall, and Sam flinched but didn't speak "Fuck I'm so stupid!" Dean screamed, looking back at the computer. "Dean, what happened?" Dean turned around to face Sam, tears streaming down his face "I fucked up, Sammy." Dean broke down falling to his knees, sobbing aggressively, Sam leaned down and held his brother while he cried.

A/N: I was in a bad mood while writing this, so I apologize for that. I hope you still enjoy it!😊 If you would like to be tagged in future fics, comment, message, or fill out this form

Main Masterlist - Dean Winchester Masterlist

[veilsofroses]

Hellow can I request for a jushiro x reader for the first time they have sex which jushiro initiates because they’ve been dating for a year.

Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, NSFW, smut, praise, vaginal fingering, penetration, no protection, creampie author’s note: so so sorry this took so long 💔💔💔 still enjoyed writing it tho, added a lil spin to it. this is for my ukitake lovers out there!!!!! i get it!!! word count: 2.4k

｡⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆｡

You slam the book on your lap shut with a huff. The two shinigami passing by jump, then scurry along. You had reread the same page about five times now, too lost in thought to focus so you give up. 

You stay seated for a moment, closing your eyes and dwelling on your thoughts. Tomorrow was going to be your one year anniversary with Jushiro, your loving, ever-so-sweet, captain of a boyfriend. Honestly, you really couldn’t ask for anyone better, he was the perfect man for you—kind, caring, beautiful, brave. But one thing irked you more than it should. 

He had yet to take you to bed. Sure, you’ve laid down and slept together, but never slept together, and it was really starting to hurt your pride. It made you question. Was this his way of being respectful or was there something about you-

You didn’t finish the thought. Jushiro was the perfect boyfriend in every way, there’s no reason for you to complain. In that year, he’s treated you better than you’ve been treated your entire life. But even so… 

You open your eyes, sighing rather loudly. 

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Jushiro’s soft voice fills your ears. Your head snaps in his direction, sitting up straight in the chair you sat in. 

Jushiro approaches you, his captain’s robe flowing behind him. He wears that usual warm smile that always melts your heart. “Oh! Uh—yes, yes, I’m fine, everything’s fine,” you reassure him, waving your hand and standing from your chair, praying he doesn’t pry. 

He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed, his long hair slipping from his shoulder. He doesn’t seem convinced, reaching out a hand towards you. You grab it before it reaches you, “I’m just hungry, that’s all,” you decide that’s the best excuse, giving him an overly wide smile. It wasn’t entirely a lie, you could eat. 

He gives you a defeated smile, grasping your other hand with his, understanding. His thumb brushes over your hand, “Alright if you say so. Let’s head to the dining hall then?” 

You give him a genuine smile, thankful he knows when to leave it alone, and nod, letting him lead you along to the hall. 

Once at the hall, food in hand, he leads you to a table where Shunsui sits with Nanao, both deep into their meals. They offer polite greetings when you sit. 

Shunsui clears his throat, “Captain Ukitake tells me tomorrow is officially your one year of being together,” he comments casually, leaning back in his seat. 

Jushiro rubs his forehead and grumbles softly, clearly a bit embarrassed Shunsui just exposed that he talks about you, though he was sure you knew that he did by now. 

You chuckle awkwardly, “Oh, yeah it is!” you say with feigned excitement. Normally you’re eager to talk about it—you love Jushiro and want everyone to know it, but you just can’t seem to muster a genuine response. You hope they don’t notice. 

Shunsui doesn’t and chuckles, continuing, “All I know is that you’re one lucky gal. He’ll tell you I was the ‘womanizer’ of the two of us but I heard tales from the girls. He’s not inno- AGH!” 

He’s cut off by Nanao smacking the back of his head with a clipboard. “Jeez,” he says, rubbing the area. “In what world is it a decent idea to tell Y/n that,” she scolds him. Jushiro sits silently, his head in his hands, questioning his choice of friendship. 

“Seems he must have wasted all his energy on those flings,” you find yourself saying, unable to catch yourself, your voice hard. 

The table goes silent, all three of them looking at you wide-eyed, caught completely off guard by your words. You can’t bear their staring any longer so you stand up, the chair scraping behind you, and you storm off, leaving your food on the table barely touched. 

Jushiro watches you march off, mouth agape, words caught in his throat. It was unusual for you to act this way.

“Trouble in paradise, huh- AGH! Again?” Shunsui looks at Nanao pleadingly. 

“Look at what you caused,” she shakes her head. 

Jushiro stares at the doorway you disappeared through before getting up and racing in the same direction without a word. 

You reach your private room, slamming the door shut behind you, and bursting into tears. You make for your bed, plopping down on the edge, your head in your hands. You made a fool of yourself, letting yourself say such a thing about the man you love, in front of his friends, on top of that. You didn’t deserve him. 

You don’t hear your door open and close quietly between your uncontrolled heaves. You only realize when a force weighs down the bed and wraps his arms firmly around you, turning your face to his. 

Worried green eyes rake over your face, “Y/n, what’s the matter?” his voice pleading, it stings your heart. Your regret for your actions deepen, you were being immature. 

No, you had a right to feel this way, but he also had the right to know why. 

You sniffle, attempting to compose yourself before you speak. He patiently wipes away your tears with a thumb, holding your face. You put your hand over his and he looks at you expectantly. 

“I just- I wish-“ you struggle to find the words but he just waits quietly, brushing a strand of tear-soaked hair out of your face. “Jushiro, why haven’t you slept with me yet?” It was a more direct approach than you anticipated to take but you suppose this got the job done. 

His eyes widen, his head jerking back slightly, clearly not expecting such a question. “Why haven’t I..” he trails off. 

You explain further, “I just.. I feel a bit.. rejected,” you look down, embarrassed at the confession. “Maybe I just haven’t been forward enough with my advances but I’ve never felt your desire to take it any further with me and it makes me question if there’s something about me that you don’t-“

He suddenly grips your shoulders, “No!” his voice desperate to prove something. 

You blink, “No?”

He also blinks and realizes how hard he’s gripping you and lets go, holding your hands instead, “I-I mean, no, of course not! I love everything about you. I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized you felt this way.” 

“Then why?” your voice cracks and that breaks something inside him. He sighs deeply, “What Shunsui said was true. I suppose I.. messed around a lot as an adolescent,” something uncomfortable stirs in your stomach at this, “but it’s for that same reason that I waited so long with you.” 

You tilt your head, “I don’t understand.” 

He puts a soft hand on your cheek but his eyes are serious, “I wanted to prove to you that I am serious about you. You’re not just another fling or something casual, I hope to spend the rest of eternity with you. I wanted you to feel respected. But it seems my foolish attempts made you feel the exact opposite,” he looks down, sighing in disappointment in himself. 

Of course, he would. You had heard from the other captains that he had matured a great deal since his youth. It made perfect sense for him to think that way. With someone like Shunsui around, it was inevitable for you to find out about his past antics, and because of that, he didn’t want you to feel like you were just another one of those girls, so he was probably waiting for you to openly say it was okay. You shake your head, you should’ve known and now you feel silly. You’re about to respond but he continues, his face flushing just enough for you to notice. “The truth is, holding back from you hasn’t been any easy feat. Now I find out you were waiting on me, and it angers me that I didn’t do this any sooner.” 

Before you can ask what he means, he pulls your lips into his, his hand firmly on the back of your neck. You yelp in surprise, your hands falling to his chest, not used to this boldness from him but you give in immediately, the built up desire from the last year finally having an outlet. 

He pushes you back against the bed, his lips never leaving yours, his long, white hair falling to your sides, caging you in. You eagerly oblige, opening your legs, the erection you hadn’t noticed brushing against you, making both of you gasp. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks red. “I’m so sorry, love. I never meant to make you feel unloved in any way.” 

You shake your head, putting a finger on his lips to shush him. “Enough of that. I know, Jushiro. Make it up to me now,” you smile softly but your words make his green eyes darken, lost in your gaze. He wastes no time in reconnecting your lips, this kiss much hungrier than the last. 

His hands roam your body, drinking in every curve, and you arch against him, desperate for his touch. 

He trails kisses from your mouth to your cheek, then down your jaw to your neck. You moan into his ear and feel him shiver at the sound, letting out a low groan. He grabs the collar of your uniform, pulling it off your shoulders, revealing your collarbones and bare breasts to him. 

He pulls back, unable to reel in his blatant staring. You lay there, smug, watching his face redden at the sight. “I-Is this okay?” his voice is barely a whisper, his composure gone. He brings his eyes up to yours, seeking. 

You answer by slipping your arms out of the top, your upper body now fully exposed, and by pulling his down, revealing his chiseled chest and abs. “Understood,” he breathes out, drinking you in once again before pouncing back on you. 

Despite his hurried kiss, his tongue is gentle, tracing your lips, asking for entrance, which you grant. You run your hands through his hair, tugging and pulling. He tugs at your pants and you lift your hips, allowing them to slip off easily without breaking the kiss. You do the same for him, his hard cock slapping on your stomach after being freed.

Jushiro’s skin was hot against yours, your bodies trying to feel every inch of each other. Each movement grinds his length against your stomach. 

He reaches his hand down to your thighs, squeezing and tracing his fingers along the sides of your core. Damn him. “I didn’t take you for such a tease,” you grind out in between kisses. He smiles against your mouth, brushing his fingers over your slick folds. You gasp, arching into him, your peaked nipples agonizingly rubbing against his chest. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, pushing his forehead against yours, sliding in one finger, then two. “J-Jushiro,” you moan out, his thick fingers stretching you out, preparing you for him. You feel his cock twitch. 

You grab his cock in your hand, earning a guttural moan you felt in your core, your walls swelling around his fingers gliding smoothly in and out, covered by your wetness.

You pump him slowly, Jushiro matching your pace with his fingers. His forehead on yours, he stares so intensely into your eyes, showing you all of him and trying to see all of you. 

You meet his lips once again, your pace on each other quickening. Wet sounds along with muffled moans fill your room, his fingers eventually outpacing your hand as you feel your climax approaching. 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers gently, your hips buck against his hand and he curls his fingers inside you, reaching your release, and you scream out, high-pitched and rough. 

He hardly gives you enough time to recover when he’s already flipping you over, putting you on top of him, his hands on your waist. 

“I want to see all of you,” he tries and fails to keep a composed voice, sounding raw. You lift up from his chest, taking him in below you, his white hair splayed out, wild, and yet, he looked as beautiful as ever. You steadily hold his gaze while you lift up, lining his throbbing cock against your soaked entrance, and watch his face as you slam down, taking his full length at once. 

He cries out, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut, his eyebrows twitching. His grip on your hips tightens as you also cry out, his thick cock burying deep inside you, stretching you out more than you ever have. 

His hands offer support, helping lift you up only to push you back down, his cock filling you up with each thrust. “Oh, Y/n-” he can hardly speak with you taking him in deeper and deeper each time, your pace quickening, skin slapping against skin.

He grinds his teeth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. But that doesn’t stop you from bouncing on him over and over. You throw your head back with a loud moan, squeezing your own tits. The sight along with your tight pussy squeezing his thick girth is enough to kill him. 

"Ah- J-Just like that-" he can hardly get the sentence out. His legs start to spasm, his hips bucking up against you, pushing his length deeper into your swollen hole, releasing broken cries. His orgasm comes rushing at him with one final thrust, and he spills everything he has into your wet pussy, lining every inch of your walls with hot cum. 

He releases your hips, his arms flopping down on the bed beside him with a thud, and you flopping down in his chest. Nothing but heavy, ragged breaths are heard, both of your hearts about to beat out of your chests. Your bodies are hot and sticky with sweat but you don’t move away from each other. 

“I’ll never forgive myself for waiting so long to do this with you,” he finally says, wrapping his arms around your back. You chuckle, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. 

“Glad you finally came to your senses,” you flick his forehead where white hair sticks to it. 

He laughs, “I deserve that.” He thinks for a moment then turns to the clock mounted on your wall. “Well, would you look at the time,” he looks back at you with soft green eyes full of nothing but adoration, “It’s midnight. Happy one year anniversary, Y/n,” he pushes his nose to nuzzle yours. 

You push further to give him a tender kiss, “Happy one year anniversary, Jushiro.” 

[awardenandacrow]

You know what 18 is fun too. It’s “Rook tries to impress someone.” Or, in Naimy’s case, two someone’s.

@erin-unknown sorry for taking so long on this one, it’s been kicking around for a little bit in the brain but it was in a lot of little pieces so I wanted to have it a little more together before sharing. Still three pieces but that’s better than it was!

[snippet 47: at the Ossuary, Naimeryn tries for convince herself… and Neve, and Lucanis, that she is capable of leading the team and NOT a total screw up]

CW/TW: strong language, death by drowning, other violence

——————————————————————————

“I’ve seen demons possess corpses. *Ashes.* even hair once.”

“At least this one has good taste,” Neve remarked with a smirk. Naimeryn did not succeed in suppressing a nervous giggle. That he did. She’d never been so grateful to see a Venatori guard in her life, to avoid whatever awkward exchange would have followed. Instead she ran forward, blasting Magic into the ground behind them, sending one flying *through* the Ossuary wall. She gasped and covered her mouth as she watched him drown. She spun back to Neve and Lucanis, eyes wide.

“*I didn’t know the enchantments were just — just —*” she waved her hands emphatically at Neve and then the wall.

“Not solid?” Neve asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“*Yes*!” Naimeryn snapped.

“Rook, *you* pointed out at the entrance that some of the walls were leaking.”

“Yes but I — I just thought — you know what?” Naimeryn rubbed her forehead and tried to still her panicking heartbeat. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. Let’s get the damn phylactery, kill this Calivan asshole, and get the fuck out of here.”

“I get that this is a rescue,” Lucanis smirked a little as they began walking again, “but you could leave a little for the rest of us, Rook.”

Naimeryn flushed at the remark. She felt like all she’d done was embarrass herself since she and Neve had arrived. But he seemed to… maybe think differently?

“Hey, Rook,” Neve said, falling into step beside her. “I can’t help but notice you rely pretty heavily on your staff attack.”

Naimeryn tightened her grip on the offending weapon. “Oh, uh, do I?”

“You *know* you do,” Neve frowned. “Are you more comfortable with your mageknife and orb? Why don’t you use them instead?”

“Oooooh, no,” Naimeryn laughed. “You do *not* want me brandishing this thing around.”

She patted it where it sat on her hip nervously. “This is mostly just for looks. I promise, I’m *way worse* at magic with this.”

“I didn’t say you were *bad* at ma— Rook, you’re about to—!”

Before Naimeryn could turn back away from Neve to look where she was going, she found herself tumbling down another slide made of sand. Blight and damnation, why would the Venatori build their prison in a ruin like this??? She skittered to a halt just before falling off yet another ledge. She started to sit up, then ducked to avoid a spell hurtled at her from the Venatori guards below.

“Hey!” She yelled down at them, throwing herself off the ledge and tossing magic of her own onto their heads to break her fall. All three screamed as the blast threw them all off the edges of the platform they’d been standing on.

“Serves you right for not even giving a girl a chance to get back on her feet,” she snapped to no one in particular.

“You can’t deny *that* was impressive,” she heard Lucanis say to Neve, and she flushed at the praise. No one had *ever* called her impressive before. At anything.

No, wait. Antoine had called her plan to save the village impressive. Why did this feel different?

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Neve replied drily, inspecting the ledge above for an easier way down to where Naimeryn stood.

“Oh, I’ve got you!” Naimeryn called up, waving her staff at a crumbled pile of what had once been a tall pillar. She floated the pieces over to Neve to create a suspended temporary staircase.

“Thank you,” Neve said, beginning to descend, “but I could have jumped.”

“I didn’t mean to imply I thought you couldn’t,” Naimeryn said nervously. Had she offended her? “It’s just, earlier when we had to, it seemed like it hurt? So I didn’t want you to have to do it again.”

“You really *are* sweet,” Neve chuckled.

“I just… uh…” *Damn it, Naimeryn, get it together.* Why did she have to be so awkward with Neve? All she’d done since they got to Antiva was make a fool of herself. “I’m used to just doing… practical stuff. To help out, you know? It’s just a… reflex. Um. Anyway.”

She was keenly aware of Lucanis studying her curiously. Just great. An amazingly talented, drop dead gorgeous, unbelievably smart mage she was growing to immensely look up to, and an incredibly attractive, clearly competent, used-to-taking-out-much-more-powerful-than-her mages, *man.* These were the people she was falling, stumbling, stammering, relying-on-her-basic-staff-attack in front of. Very confidence inspiring. Excellent leader material.

…

He was too strong. Even with Spite seemingly intent on helping, Lucanis couldn’t get close enough to Calivan to hit him. Any time Neve got close, he would blast her back and summon another demon to block her path. The Venatori guard grabbed her staff, and Naimeryn punched him in the nose, quickly bringing her attention back to Calivan. Maybe if she could do something to distract him, Lucanis could take his shot. She ducked under the sweep of another guard’s scythe, surveying the room for a second time.

Calivan’s desk was on a raised platform behind him, accessible by a curving staircase to either side. If she could drop down from above, pull his attention away from the other two… yes, that could work.

Naimeryn swung her staff, catching the guard she’d punched in the side of the head. He went down like a ton of bricks. The one with the scythe swung at her again, and she narrowly managed to parry, the blow sending vibrations up her arm. She planted her staff and pushed off the ground, swinging around it to plant both of her feet into his chest. He fell, and she sent a blast of magic from her hand into his face, rendering him unconscious as well. She leapt to her feet and ran, dodging ranged attacks from demons and wraiths, climbing the stairs two at a time. Just as she reached the top, she saw Calivan pivot, drawing closer to the side she was on. Rather than getting to his desk and jumping from there, Naimeryn readied her staff and leapt down towards him.

Calivan spun, a wicked smile cracking his face. He reached up and caught her, throat first, knocking the wind out of her and sending such pain through her spine as she was jarred to a stop that she saw stars.

“An incompetent mage,” Calivan sneered into her face as he pulled her in close, his fingers crushing her throat even as hers fought to loosen them. Out of the corner of her good eye, she could see Neve trying to get past the demon he’d summoned, fighting to get to her. “Zara will have *such* fun with *you.*”

“Nah,” Naimeryn wheezed, “I may be incompetent… but I’m *resourceful*.”

She quickly pulled her mage knife out of her belt and thrust it as hard as she could manage into his side. With a gasp, he dropped her, and they both crumpled to the ground. The demons he’d summoned disappeared. Naimeryn coughed and rubbed her neck as Lucanis stepped into her line of sight to stand over Calivan.

…

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to use this?” Lucanis asked, wrenching her mageknife free and wiping the blood on Calivan’s clothes for her.

“Not for *magical* things,” she said hoarsely, accepting it as he flipped the hilt towards her. “I know which end to stab people with; I’m not a *complete* idiot.”

“Maybe try convincing him of that when you haven’t just thrown yourself into close quarters with a powerful blood mage,” Neve shook her head. “That was reckless, Rook.”

“We needed an opening,” Naimeryn frowned. “I got us an opening.”

Neve gave her a hard look and curled two fingers under her chin, making her tilt her head back. She squirmed under the scrutiny.

“Really, I’ll be all right,” she insisted, giving Neve’s shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve faced down worse bullies than *him.*”

Yay! Either 11 or 18 for the prompts, if you like 😊

Ooooh I likey! 11: Rook is recognized for an accomplishment. This is off the cuff so forgive me if it’s a little rough!

——————————————————————————

“Rook will be making breakfast this morning!” Bellara beamed, giving a little hop of excitement. Naimeryn smiled nervously at the team, feeling absolutely foolish.

“So, eggs?” Harding smirked.

“*No*,” Naimeryn snapped, but Neve and Harding snickered.

“I’m missing something,” Taash crossed their arms over their chest.

“Rook does not cook,” Lucanis said gently, giving her an encouraging smile that made her heart do a summersault. “When I first arrived, the only thing she knew how to make was eggs. But Bellara has been teaching her some things.”

“Ah, excellent!” Emmrich clapped his hands together. “It is ever so important to always be open to learning new things!”

“I… don’t want anyone getting their hopes up too high,” Naimeryn said nervously. “Bellara is an excellent teacher, but I’m still learning.”

“If I die, I promise I’m going to haunt you,” Davrin said skeptically.

“I’ll withhold the poison then,” Lucanis said smoothly, “as I could not live with myself having subjected her to *that.*”

A chorus of laughter and Davrin’s good-natured protests filled the dining hall.

“Come on,” Bellara nudged her into the kitchen. You’ve got this!”

Under Bellara’s watchful eye, Naimeryn whisked and fried and flipped and sizzled. She was nervous — only Bellara had eaten her food thus far, and the thought of the whole team trying it was… admittedly terrifying. But the last batch had been pretty good, and bacon was much easier than she’d believed. She took a deep breath as she pulled the last pancakes off the griddle, and Bellara brought the syrup they’d bought in Arlathan to the table.

“Pancakes?!” She heard Neve cry immediately. “Did you actually teach her to make pancakes?”

“And bacon,” Naimeryn affirmed, turning to the table with a plate of each in her hands. “I made some crispier and some less so, so hopefully everyone has it how they like it.”

Naimeryn and Bellara served the rest of the team, then Naimeryn took her usual seat at the head of the table. Bellara, her plate in hand, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she sat to her left.

“*Rook!*” Harding spoke first, her eyes wide.

“Is it okay?” Naimeryn asked nervously, twisting her hands in her lap. She thought she might be sick.

“I’ve never had pancakes before,” Taash said, “but these are really, really good!”

“Really?” Naimeryn perked.

“You done did good,” Davrin nodded, shoveling a whole pancake into his mouth in one bite. Naimeryn didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him.

“I’m proud of you, Rook,” Neve said, taking a bite of bacon and smirking at her. “Your hard work really has paid off.”

“Not burnt, or stuck, or the wrong consistency,” Lucanis smirked. “You’ve truly come a long way.”

Naimeryn’s face burned. “I’m no *you.*”

“So, ah, is this gonna be a regular thing?” Taash wanted to know, holding up their empty plate. “‘Cos I want more. Please.”

As everyone began to laugh again, Naimeryn brought Taash her plate. “I’ll make myself more,” she smiled at the Qunari. “Apparently I can do that, now.”

——————————————————————————

I hope you guys enjoy! Guess we’ll call this snippet… 33? ;)

[mister-girl]

You ever begin developing a crush on a guy who’s just a lil bit too conventionally attractive and are like on second thought mmm no thanks no thank you sorry my mistake

[hplonesomeart]

@scimagic Uhhh made this because I just think they’re dynamic is neat. Also completely agree with the Puzzle headcanon super fun silly and very on point. As we speak he is clinging for his dear life :))

I really enjoy seeing the illustrated storyline you have unfolding between the two and figured it would be nice to see this motorcycle sequence in motion. So tadaa here it is! In animated form! Now your obligated to make a full length written novel in-depth about their relationship /j

Sincerely though thanks for the creative inspiration and keep on being a swagger artist 👍✨

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[kisses4themissus]

A Foreign Love || In-ho x Reader

wc: 2.6k a/n: Ahh i had so much fun writing this request!! if you would like a happier ending do please send me a message or inbox me i don't mind warning: (spelling errors possibly?)

Pt 2 | masterlist

You nervously played with your hands as you walked around the room, every team had gotten a sixth player, it didn't help that you were seemingly the only foreigner there.

“Excuse me, could I join you all?” You questioned as you walked up to a group of elders. 

Player 100 scoffed and dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “Please sir, I see your team is short a member..” You tried to convince him. He groaned at you before turning towards you. “Can’t you take a hint and leave...entitled americans!” He scoffed at you, looking you up and down in disgust.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized before walking away. You sat down near the wall and let tears well up in your eyes. As you let out a shakily breath, covering your face with your hands. You didn't even want to play more games, all you wished was to go home.

As you cried, a gentle hand was placed on you shoulder, making you peek through your hands. Player 388 was squatted next to you. “Are you alright, miss?” He questioned, concern in his eyes, you nodded and wiped your eyes with your jacket sleeve.

“Do you have a team?” He asked, helping you stand up; You shook your head at him, “Everyone claimed to have a sixth player..” You explained, he nodded slowly at your words before motioning for you to follow him. 

Trailing behind him, he led you to a group of three older men and one girl around your age. “I have found our sixth!” He announced happily before stepping to the side to show you.

They all blinked as you waved to them, a small polite smile on your face.

“The foreigner?!” Player 390 exclaimed, one of the other men; player 456 smacked his arm before greeting you with a nod.

“In my game we had a foreigner, he did well, he just got given the wrong kind of person during a game...” Player 456 explained.

“Welcome!” Player 001 greeted, you smiled and nodded your head in acknowledgment “Thank you for having me.” You bowed slightly.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You all sat together in a line as the games got announced. 

Ddakji, flying stones, gong-gi, spinning top, jegi and jacks.

“Jacks?” All of your teammates questioned. “You have to bounce a ball and collect little metal jacks and have to pick them up before the ball falls.” You explained, perking up. 

“Are you any good?” Player 001 questioned. You held your hand out and shook it side to side, “somewhat.” He nodded as the others began to claim the other games.

You all watched as the other teams went, before you knew it, you were the last team to go.

You all got up and waited as the guards chained you; Your team had done well til it had gotten to spinning top.

You groaned as he managed to toss it behind you all, he broke down, yelling at himself for his mistake, you leaned forward a bit and looked towards player 001, “We all make mistakes, maybe try your left hand!” You suggested, he nodded and winded the toy up before letting it go, you all waited with baited breath as it spun.

You all walked to the next mini game and began to hype player 456 up as he did jegi, you all moved forwards as both player 456 and 001 caught it with their legs that were tied together.

“You got this!” Player 388 smiled as the guard handed you the ball, you and your team squatted down so you could play on the small table, shaking you tossed the ball up, you had failed to catch the jack in time due to your shaking hands. You groaned, you had tried twice to get the jacks before the ball fell but failed, you were on the verge of a panic attack as you glanced up to the counter. 

“Calm down, we all make mistakes!” 001 tried to reassure. You just nodded and tried once more, you waited as the ball went up, with a swift hand you swiped up the mini jacks and the ball, you all yelled out in relief before running the fastest you could tied together.

You all cheered as you crossed the finish line; your beginning was cut short. Gunshots made you all flinch; The opposite team didn’t make it. You all stared horrified at the corpses while being unshackled.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You all walked back to the dorm, everyone's eyes on your backs. You had linked arms with 222, she had explained she was pregnant at the beginning of the game, you had gained a need to protect her ever since. As you passed player 100 and his friends you stopped at his words, “Both the foreigner and the pregnant girl lived, they’re definitely not making it to the next round!” He laughed, you turned and went to open your mouth but stopped as 001 walked over to them.

“What does that say about you? Your team is all old men, who’s to say none of you don’t have heart failure in the middle of the next game? What kind of men are you all, denying an expecting mother and an innocent foreigner help?!” He scoffed as the group of older men stumbled over their words.

He wordlessly walked away to his bed by the others.

You unlinked your arms as 222 walked towards another player, leaving you to follow after 001.

He sat on his bed, sighing. You quietly approached his bed, watching as he rubbed his shoulder, trying to give his muscles a bit of comfort. “Thank you again mister.” You muttered out, earning his attention, he looked in your direction. 

“For letting me on your team, and standing up to that player…thank you mister!” You clarified, nervously playing with your fingers. 

“Someone had to put them in their place, it was a matter of time really.” He lightly chuckled, patting the space next to him on his bed, you sit down.

“Why are you in the game?” He questioned, you softly laughed. “I originally came here to study abroad.  emergencies happened in my home country, I trusted the wrong shady guy to send money to my family..” You explained, he listened.

“What brought you here mister?” you questioned, sitting up. “Hospital’s build up a lot of debt..” He sighed, you nodded. 

He snickered, making you look at him confused. “You don’t have to call me mister, it’s-!” As he went to give you his name the others walked over, talking about the next vote.

“I think I threw my shoulder out!” Player 390 sighed, moving his arm in a circle motion. “I’m sorry about earlier, everyone..” 001 apologized. You all dismissed his apology 

Player 222 had walked over and sat on the steps beside your shoes; she looked around as the group sat down together and talked. “Oh what about her ddakji  play, im surprised she didn’t break the ground when she threw it!” Player 390 laughed, she looked bashfully to the ground, a smile on her face.

“Or what about her jacks play, swiped them better than a thief!” 388 complimented making you giggle; Player 222 bowed her head as she looked at you all. “Thank you for including me on your team.” she thanked. You quickly nodded in agreement, “thank you, i’d probably be dead if i hadn't found a team in time..” They all nodded.

“I think we’re lucky you two joined us, we’d be lost with the jacks or stuck on ddakji forever.” 390 joked, earning laughs from everyone. 388 stood up in front of you all, “listen since we’re sticking together, i think we should learn each other's names, it would be a good idea right?” He questioned, waiting for someone to disagree but it never came, you all nodded.

“I’ll start, my name is kang dae-ho; dae means big and ho means tiger!” He grinned, you all nodded.

“That’s a very cool meaning!” You grinned at him. Player 390 cleared his throat, “My parents didn't give me a cool name, it's just park jung-bae. Righteous and twice.. I guess they want me to be twice as righteous.” He sighed.

“My name is kim jun-hee, i dunno what it means though..” She gave a soft look before glancing down to her hands.

“Jun-hee, once we get out of here you need to go see a doctor, stress isn't good for either you or the baby.” 001 told the young girl, who nodded.

“I’m oh young il.” He introduced himself, you all nodded. 

“It kinda sounds like your number!” You pointed out. “It’s easy to remember,” He laughed, before turning to 456.

“You’ve all heard my name, it's gi-hun.” He dismissed you all, “What’s your last name gi-hun?” Young il questioned. “It’s seong gi-hun.” He explained, earning nods.

“I’m y/n y/l/n, my name doesn’t have any meaning like your guys.” You smiled, earning a laugh from jungbae.

“Very american!” He commented, earning more comments of your nationality. 

“Is it true americans carry guns everywhere?” Jung-bae asked, earning a laugh from you. “Um, certain states..yes.” You grinned.

You all had continued talking till a loud buzz, out walked the guards with the voting machine, you all watched as they set it up and went over the rules once more.

You all looked at one another’s badges. Young il cover his as you looked at him with a slight frown. ‘I’m voting to leave this time.” He nodded at you. You grinned and nodded “Maybe when we get out, me and you can go for dinner?” You suggested, a smile on your face, he chuckled at you “I’d enjoy that.”

You grinned at him as he walked to the machine and pressed the X.

You watched as the screen counting the votes go up as more people voted to stay, you began to shake as gi-hun pressed the X but was outvoted, you swallowed a knot in your throat. 

You stood beside dae-ho and jun-hee in shock at the results, “I’m gonna be sick.” You muttered before running to the restrooms. 

In-ho waited til everyone had disbursed before signalling towards the guard in your direction, you were to busy trying not to vomit in the dorm to notice anyone gaze.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Gi-hun had you all move your mattresses to the ground, he was on edge. He had told your group in his past game by the third game players had gotten violent during the night.

You sighed, laying down under the bed frame on your mattress. Slowly you had drifted off to sleep while the others continued to move more beds and set up a watch system.

You woke up during the night, having to use the restroom. You glanced over and saw everyone had fallen asleep. You quietly got up and walked to gi-hun, who watched for other players.

“I need to go use the restroom.” you told him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “It's dangerous out there!” He warned, you glanced around the dorm, no one was actively awake.

“I'll be ok, no one seems to be up yet either!” 

Before he could respond, you walked past and towards the side door and knocked. A triangle guard opened the small hatch, before you could say anything the door opened fully for you. “oh, thank you! I won't be long.” You thanked them, before walking into the restroom.

Gi-hun silently watched, holding back his yawns. A tap of his shoulder alerted him, in-ho smiled at the man. “Ready to switch off?” He asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes, gi-hun nodded and traded spots; In-ho waited til he knew gi-hun was asleep before getting up from the floor and walked to the side door and knocked in a pattern, the triangle guard bowed their head and stepped to the side.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

You yawned as you walked out of the restroom, as you went to leave back to the dorm, the guard stopped you, standing in front of the door, facing you.

“Can i get by please?” You motioned to the door with your hand. They shook their head at you before speaking. “Follow the guard.” 

You gave him a confused look, as you followed their raised hand you were surprised to see another guard, this guard was dressed different, his clothing was black and his mask had a sqaure. “Ok?” You quickly followed as the guard let you through the stairs, as you go to a certain part, they turned around and handed you a piece of black cloth. “Put it on.” They commanded, you nodded and tied it over your eyes, your heart began to pick up.

What did they want from you? Are they going to execute you? 

Your thoughts ran wild as the guard guided you through the halls. Finally you had stopped. The sound of shoes filled your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your vision was restored, you flinched covering your eyes due to the lights. You squinted at the figure.

“Who are you?” You questioned, your eyes adjusting to the room’s light, the man’s mask was matte black, it had a sort of 3D design to it.

“I am the frontman, owner of these games.” He introduced himself, your heart stopped. 

“Why am i here?” You questioned, too busy to see the guard grabbed rope and slowly approaching you. “I see you have gotten very close with one of the players…001.” You nodded, watching his every move.

“What did you do to him?” You questioned, the frontman stepping closer to you. “Nothing, just if your safe and away from him, he’ll do better at these games.” He explained, motioning for the guard.

As you turned your head the guard grabbed your arms and began to tie them together. You let out a yell as they pinned you and tied your legs together. “No one can hear you from here.” He explained, running one of his gloved fingers over your cheek as tears fell down.

He motioned to the guard to help move you to the bed he had in an adjacent room. You cried and thrashed the best you could.

He shushed you as you cried, he sighed, knowing it wasn't helping. He grabbed a remote he had on the bedside; he waited til the guard confirmed you were sacred in the bed before pressing a button, a small hiss filled the room. You stared at him in horror as gas filled the room. 

“Goodnight.” He nodded to you before shutting the room door, feeling drowsy, you tired to look around the room for any way out but stopped as your eyes forced shut.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Gi-hun and the others were startled awake as in-ho yelled at the guards. “What happened?” Jung-bae questioned, rubbing his eyes and began to stand up to see the commotion.

“YOU TOOK HER, I  KNOW IT SHE’S BEEN GONE FOR 5 HOURS!” In-ho yelled, pounding at the door where the hatch was closed.

Gi-hun and the others ran over to him, concerned and confused. “What’s going on?” Gi-hun asked looking at his teammate who sobbed squatting down to his knees, playing the grieving act.

“Those masked guards took y/n, she had been gone for sometime and i went to see if she was there and-!” He sobbed, earning worried looks from the group.

“Player 129 has been eliminated!” The voice rang out in the room. 

Everyone stared at each other in shock. Jun-hee covered her mouth in shock. Gi-hun sighed and squatted down to in-ho’s level and patted him on the back in comfort. “Help stop these games for her.” 

In-ho nodded and wiped the tears away. “For her..” He repeated sadly, knowing full well you were peacefully sleeping in his bed at the moment.

pt 2

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Four

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You navigate the aftermath of your confrontation. Azriel takes his first steps toward making things right.

Warnings: brief mentions of injury, bruises, and physical fighting. nyx being a cute baby. some fun introspection. reader is tired and overwhelmed. az is honest and open (hallelujah)

Word Count: 7k+

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Five

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Rhys was trying to be serious. 

He truly, truly was. 

From behind his polished desk, he looked every inch the High Lord—back straight, jaw tight, fingers drumming against the wood. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, as though he couldn’t decide where to start.

You shifted in your seat, your body aching in strange places from the fight. The cut on your cheek throbbed and the bruising across your knuckles made every twitch of your fingers tender. But none of it compared to the strain in your cheeks—from holding back a laugh.

Feyre was perched on the arm of a chair beside you, Nyx cradled in her arms, his tiny fingers gripping the fabric of her flowy blouse. She wasn’t looking at you—refusing to, actually. Her gaze was locked firmly on her son, her lips pressed together in a trembling line, but you could see the corners twitching with suppressed amusement. You kept your gaze on her, waiting until the burn of your stare would render too hot for her to ignore. 

It didn’t take long.

Feyre’s resolve crumbled as soon as her eyes met yours. She let out a laugh—sharp and bright and loud in the too-quiet room.

Rhys’s head snapped up. “Feyre, please. Not you too.”

Not you too. Morrigan had found the situation just as amusing. 

Her laughter only grew, and Nyx joined in, making incomprehensible happy gurgles in response to his mother’s amusement. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. 

She passed Nyx to your open, offering arms, and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around Rhys’s neck. Her cheek brushed against his as she murmured—loud enough for you to hear, “You have to admit it’s funny.”

Rhys groaned, glancing at you. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but you cut in, your voice laced with mock sternness as you bit back a smile. “Yeah, Rhys. You have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he replied, fixing you with a look. “It is not funny.”

You gasped dramatically, adjusting Nyx in your lap and covering his tiny,pointed ears. “Don’t teach your son it’s okay to lie.”

Another groan. A hand dragged down his face, but his lips twitched as though fighting a losing battle. Finally, with a resigned shake of his head, he muttered, “Alright. Fine. It’s funny. But—

His words faltered. 

“I am sorry,” you offered, filling the silence. You raised your free hand solemnly. “I lost my cool. That’s my bad. But in my defense, she really had it coming.”

Rhys casted a look at Feyre, who was leaning against the desk now, a smile still tugging at her lips. He shook his head again, sighing. “Maybe so,” he conceded, “But I can’t have our court’s emissary beating one of our citizens in broad daylight. It’s not a great look.”

“It wasn’t broad daylight,” you corrected, your attention shifting to Nyx as you untangled your hair from his iron grip, grimacing as the motion pulled at your scalp. “The sun was setting by the time we were done.”

Feyre let out another laugh, the sound powerful enough to pull a snort from her. 

“And,” you added, “It was, at most, semi-private.”

“Unbelievable,” Rhys muttered, though there was no real heat in it.

Nyx babbled again, his chubby hand reaching for your hair once more. 

“Okay, alright,” you said, straightening in your chair. The ache in your body flared as you moved, but you ignored it, your focus on Rhys. “You’re right, Rhys. I have a title and an image to uphold. I should’ve acted better. Tell me how to fix it, and I will.”

Rhys’s gaze lingered on you, as if the longer he stared at you, the easier words would come. Then he leaned back in his chair, his attention flicking to Feyre. They were in each other’s minds, you realized, talking in that way only they could. You could pick up the signs now, even subtle—a faint twitch of her lips, the softening in his gaze, even the rhythm of their blinks syncing up. 

Finally, Rhys looked back at you, then down at Nyx, who was still babbling in your lap. When his gaze returned to yours, there was a thread of warmth beneath his voice. “You’re the most, objectively, rational of us all. If you say there was reasoning, then I believe you.”

You gave him a grateful smile.

“We just have to prepare for some damage control,” Feyre said. “It’s not exactly comforting for our citizens to see three of their highest-ranking officials fighting in the streets.”

“Three?” You frowned. “What—”

You were cut off as the door creaked open. All three of you turned as Mor stepped in, a large grin on her red painted lips. She was holding something small in her hand, and when she held it up, the light caught on the all-too-familiar jewelry.

“Don’t forget. She also found these,” Mor sang as she entered fully. She tossed two bracelets into the air, catching both effortlessly before holding them up again for emphasis. “So, I think that’s enough for a pardon.”

Rhys stood, crossing the room in a few long strides as Feyre followed. He took one of the bracelets from Mor, inspecting it carefully.

“What did you find?”

“What Y/n heard was right,” Mor said, rolling the other bracelet between her fingers. “It’s a simple listening charm. Very basic.”

Rhysand hummed. “And how does it work exactly?”

“It’s an anchored spell.”

“What does that mean?” Feyre asked, frowning. “An anchor?” 

“It means the spell needs an anchor to function—a tether to keep it active and contained. Like a balloon tied to a string.” Rhys explained, his tone turning clinical. “It’s simple magic. The charm was designed to spy on whoever it was bound to.”

“And it was bound to who? Az?”

”Actually,” Mor said. She nodded towards you. “It was bound to Y/n.”

You weren’t paying full attention, not as you played a game of tug-of-war with Nyx and a strand of your hair. When the words finally hit you, you blinked, glancing between Mor and the bracelet in her hand. “What? On me?”

Mor nodded once more as Rhysand said, “Interesting.” 

”And this was in Azriels room?” Feyre asked, looking over at you. 

“One of them,” you confirmed. “The other Selene was wearing.”

Feyre’s gaze flicked to the cut across your cheek. “So she put it in Azriel’s room, but bound it to you?”

“No one tends to go into Az’s room.” Rhys frowned. “So she was only interested in conversations you were a part of.”

Of course. A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you clenched your jaw, forcing it down. You reminded yourself of what you’d seen earlier— the insecurity, rather than the malice you’d anticipated. Still, a certain annoyance lingered. Was her relationship with Azriel so fragile that she couldn’t talk to him? Were you so unapproachable that she couldn’t come to you? Instead, she planted a charm. To spy. 

”Can I see it?” You asked. 

Mor stepped forward, holding it out, and Nyx reached for it first, his tiny fingers desperately grasping at the shiny surface.

“This isn’t for you, buddy,” Mor cooed, crouching slightly. “This is Aunt Y/n’s special bracelet from her secret admirer.”

You shot her a flat look. “Secret admirer, my ass.”

Mor grinned, but her gaze flicked over you briefly, her teasing dimmed by something else—concern, maybe. Feyre stepped forward, lifting Nyx from your lap as you examined the bracelet.

“So what do we do with it now?” You glanced up at Mor.

“I can pay Helion a visit. Break the charm.” 

“Alright,” Rhys said, the word accompanied by a considering hum. “But first, let me talk to Selene and Runa—Runa was the other one, right?”

Hearing her name sent a wave of irritation coursing through you. Your grip on the bracelet tightened instinctively as you nodded, the cool metal digging into your palm. You held it out for Mor to take, watching as she then took the second one back from Rhys. He studied you for a moment, his gaze drifting to your clenched fists.

“You’re just too great,” He said with a small grin. It was very father-like in its presentation, like he was trying to cheer up a sad child. “It’s intimidating.”

You rolled your eyes, but his attempt worked— the easy cadence chipping away at the tension in your shoulders, managing to coax a reluctant smile to your lips. “So I’ve been told.”

Your attention shifted to Feyre as she rocked Nyx gently in her arms. His soft breaths had already settled into the rhythm of sleep, and something in you softened at the sight. Your smile deepened, this time warmer, more genuine. Feyre caught your gaze, then glanced at her mate.

“It’s his bedtime,” she murmured, her attention returning to you. “And maybe you could use some rest too.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Mor cut you off, her hand already brushing against your arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said softly, though there was no room for argument in her tone.

“I’m fine,” you tried to insist, but she gave you a look, leading you out of Rhysand’s office. You gave both him and Feyre a quick goodbye. 

“Walk or winnow?” Mor asked once you were in the hall, tilting her head.

You thought it over for a brief moment. “Winnow,” you replied.

She nodded in agreement, the corners of her lips curving upwards. “Probably for the best,” she said, “Wouldn’t want you to find another citizen to fight on the way home.”

You moved to swat at her arm in mock indignation, but she was already gone, her laughter echoing faintly as she winnowed away. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Mor was humming a small tune as she led you to your bedroom. She had a few more items in her hand since the last time you saw her, only a few moments prior.

“Sit,” she instructed, nodding towards your bed. Without waiting for a response, she pulled your chair from the small desk, its legs scraping sharply against the floor. Usually, you might've winced at the sound, but tonight it barely registered. You were too tired, too lost in your own thoughts to be fully aware of your surroundings. 

You lowered yourself onto the edge of your bed, hands folded in your lap, watching as Mor set her haul on your bedside table: a first-aid healers kit and a small jar with a golden lid, the faint scent of herbs already wafting from it.

“Whats that?” you asked, motioning towards it as Mor sat down.

“I stopped by Majda’s earlier,” Mor replied, grabbing the jar and offering it to you. 

You gingerly took it, running your fingers along the small glass. A healing balm, you gathered from the label, crafted and spelled to sooth the tenderness of injuries.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” she replied, fixing you with a look. She held her hand out in a silent request, and you granted it, placing the jar back in her soft palm.  “I ran into Adrin while I was there, too.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I think he has a crush.” 

Your brows furrowed. “On you?”

“No,” Mor laughed. “On you.” She twisted the lid off, the scent growing stronger, fresher. “This was practically free when I mentioned your name. He says hello, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes at the tone of her voice, at the small quirk in her lip.  “How generous of him.”

Adrin was one of Madja’s recent apprentices, a male from the Dawn Court. Over the past year, you’d developed a sort of friendship with him—inevitable, given how often you stopped by Madja’s for elixirs, balms, or to request healing for one of your family members. Adrin was sweet in a way that stood out, especially for someone of his stature and wealth. Humble, easy to talk to. You’d always enjoyed your small conversations with him, none of which had ever felt particularly flirtatious. 

But Mor liked to do this—tease you about romantic prospects where there were none.

“He seemed very sad to hear you were hurt,” she teased, dipping her fingers into the balm. “Here. Give me your hands.”

Reluctantly, you stretched out your hands, knuckles bruised and raw. She took them, her touch gentle as she worked the balm into your skin. It stung at first, then cooled, easing the ache. 

“He’s cute,” Mor said lightly, noting your silence.  “You should consider it.”

“Mhm,” you replied, not really listening. “Maybe.”

Mor glanced up at you, her hands pausing briefly before she resumed. “What are you thinking about?”

You shrugged and stared down at your hands, tracing the patterns of Mor’s thumbs as she smoothed over the worst of the bruising. “I don’t know. The whole thing, I guess.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t just beat them both.”

A small laugh slipped from you, unexpected. You were quite proud of how diplomatic you’d managed to be given the circumstances— though, you were sure diplomatic wasn’t the word Runa would use.

“I think,” you began, “I just figured it wasn’t worth it. At least with Selene, it wasn’t personal. There’s nothing I could’ve said to her that’d be worse than what I imagine she already tells herself. Runa just… said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

Mor nodded with an amused smile, tilting your chin up with a finger so she could dab the balm along your jaw. On a hit you hadn’t even noticed until it started throbbing an hour later.

“Still. A listening charm is kind of insane,” she said. Her tone was measured, but you caught the edge of anger beneath it. “Can you imagine what else she could’ve heard?”

Your chest tightened. You nodded. Although not to the extent you might usually have, you had thought about it—the implications of the bracelet, the act Selene had committed, the idea Runa had planted. It was almost laughable. Your court was condemned for its supposed cruelty, led by a High Lord as infamous as Rhysand, yet citizens still felt emboldened enough to pull stunts like this. In any other court, Selene and Runa would’ve faced very different—more permanent—consequences.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” you replied after a moment. “I’ll just get angry, and I’m kind of over that. It’s exhausting.”

“You’re better than me,” Mor muttered.

“Not really. I’m just tired.” You said simply. “Selene did a bad thing. She’s lucky it didn’t cause a serious disaster. I don’t feel the need to play the Mother’s role. Rhys will deal with her.”

Mor sat back, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “And in the meantime, I get pretty jewelry.”

You raised a brow. 

“What?” Her grin widened. “Like we told Rhys, it’s only a basic listening spell. If I’m in possession of both charms, and I’m not talking to you, then no one’s hearing anything.”

“And if you lose one?”

She raised an eyebrow, slowly twisting the cap back onto the jar. “I won’t,” she replied simply. And you knew that was the end of the conversation. Mor guided your head to the side, leaning in to inspect the cut across your cheek.

“That bitch got you good, though,” Mor muttered. She touched it gently, and you grimaced. “All this from that bracelet?”

“It was chunky,” you replied dryly. “And I think Runa split it open much further.”

Mor scowled. “If I see her, she's as good as d—”

“Mor.”

She sighed dramatically. “At least tell me you got her good.”

You gave her a look and her grin widened. “Gods, I love you,” she said, shaking her head. “You might be the most terrifying one of us all when you’re angry.”

A smile tugged at your lips, the faint pull of it brushing against the ache in your cheek. The sound of a laugh started to rise in your chest when a low voice cut through the moment.

“I would agree.”

You jumped, and your head snapped toward the doorway— where Azriel now stood. 

Your chest tightened at the sight of him, the moment’s levity collapsing under his presence. Instinctively, your eyes ran over him, taking in every detail. He looked tense, wings drawn in tight to his back, his posture stiff. Shadows hung close to him, unnervingly still. Disheveled, too—his hair was a mess and faint bruises bloomed along his face. His hands were hidden by his shadows, but you’d bet they bore the same marks as yours. Three officials, Feyre had said. You now knew the second. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Mor snickered beside you, drawing your attention just as her brows lifted in amusement. She turned away from him and faced you instead. “You hear that, Y/n? He’s sorry.”

You raised your own brows, gaze flicking back to him. “So those words do exist in your vocabulary.”

The bite didn’t feel as satisfying as it should have. It felt hollow, old. Azriel’s jaw tightened, his chest rising as he drew in a measured breath. After a moment, he stepped forward. His gaze lingered on you for another moment before he turned to Mor.

“May we have a moment alone?”

Mor’s eyes narrowed, the sharpness in her gaze dragging over him like a knife. She didn’t answer right away, looking back to you instead, searching your face for permission. Despite yourself, you gave her a small nod.

Her displeasure showed in the faint widening of her eyes, but she stood anyway, brushing her hand against yours in passing. Her touch was soft, careful not to press too hard against the bruises. “Love you,” she murmured. “Let me know if you need anything else tonight.”

You gave her a small smile, nodding again as she walked past Azriel. His shadows recoiled from her, drawing a dark outline along his arm. She casted one last glare over her shoulder.

“Idiot,” she muttered, loud enough for both of you to hear. Then she was gone.

The silence she left behind felt suffocating, a heavy thing that settled over the room. You avoided Azriel’s gaze, focusing instead on the healer’s kit sitting on the bedside table. You reached for it, but Azriel held up a hand to stop you.

“I can do it myself,” you said. 

“I know,” Az replied softly. “But let me. Please.”

You hesitated. He looked troubled, guilt heavy in his expression, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The conversation had been inevitable, long overdue. Might as well get it over with while he tended to the cut on your cheek.

Besides, you were too exhausted to care. 

“Fine.”

Azriel gave you a small, unsure smile—grateful, almost. He disappeared to the bathroom, and when he returned, he sat with a wet rag in hand.

You tried to hold on to your anger, to avoid his eyes, but your resolve began to falter the moment his shadows began to twist around your arms. They moved languidly, curling up your wrists and brushing your fingers as you played with your hands in your lap. You focused on them instead of him— on their quiet presence, the personality in them that so few ever noticed. You’d missed the way they felt like him.

Azriel began unpacking the kit—clean cloths, antiseptic. The smell made your nose scrunch. You took in the bruising on his face—on his cheek, a split near his eyebrow, even on his lip. Strange, strategically unplaced.

“What happened to you?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Cassian happened.”

And there it was— the third official. You wanted to probe for more details, were even tempted to make a joke out of his current appearance, but your irritation held you back. You stayed silent as he cleaned the wound, as he dried it. When he soaked another cloth with antiseptic, he looked at you.

“I owe you a big, proper apology.” 

You didn’t look at him, even as his words pulled at you. “Yeah.”

He paused— like he was thinking, like he was ashamed— and took a deep breath before he said, “Many, actually.”

You didn’t respond. You just nodded, watching him from the corner of your eye. When the cloth touched your cheek, you winced. He grimaced, eyebrows furrowing in apology.

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

Another pause. 

“You were right,” he said, his focus staying on your cheek. “And I should have listened to you.”

This time, the pull of his voice was strong enough to draw your attention. As he leaned closer to begin cleaning the cut, you studied his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the crease in his brow as he worked with precision. 

“I’m always right,” you muttered, and the words had more mirth than you’d expected. You supposed that was natural with Azriel, an instinct of sorts. Even when you were unhappy with him. “You’re going to have to be specific.”

Something softened in his expression—just for a second. But you saw it. You could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at his lips, heard a soft breath of amusement. His molten eyes met yours briefly.

“You were right about Selene.”

Your chest tightened. You didn’t know why, but his gaze burned. You couldn’t hold it for long and looked back down at your hands, letting the shadows weave between your fingers. You wondered what information Az knew— wondered who told him. If it was Mor who had talked to Cassian, if it was Cassian who then, in turn, had given Azriel the whole story. Had they fought beforehand? What for?

“I broke up with her,” Azriel added. “When I heard about what happened.”

You looked up, but Az’s gaze was no longer on you. “You did?”

He nodded. You tracked the bob in his throat as he swallowed. 

“There’s no coming back from what she did.”

Azriel set the cloth aside, carefully wiping away the excess antiseptic. He seemed unnervingly calm for the situation—for the invasion of privacy from someone he’d been intimate with. You’d expected something more. Anger like you’d seen with Eris, confrontation like he’d shown Lucien. But, instead, he was gentle. Maybe it should’ve bothered you, that he seemed so unphased at your current state. It didn’t. If anything, you were grateful. You would’ve been too tired to deal with anything else. 

You studied him closely. This side of him—tender, unguarded—wasn’t a side he let many see.

Your thoughts wandered back to Selene. It made sense, in a pathetic, strange way, why she might have done what she did. If she’d seen this side of him, this kindness, this care... how could she not have wanted to protect it? How could she not have gone to extremes to keep it?

You thought about it for a moment. Came to the realization that the love Azriel offered was probably worthy of madness.

“Because she spied on you?” 

It was a stupid question. But the urge to ask had persisted, so you voiced it anyway. Azriel stilled, his hand pausing mid-motion. Slowly, he turned to look at you.

“No,” he said, his voice softer. “Because she hurt you.”

His words landed with a force that sent your thoughts spiraling.

“Although,” Azriel added quickly, “The spying was definitely a dealbreaker.”

He was making a joke, you realized. Or a small attempt at one. And somehow, it settled something restless in your chest.

“She didn’t mean to,” you heard yourself say before you could stop it. 

The moment the words left your mouth, you cursed yourself. What the hell were you doing? You had no obligation. No reason. It was counterproductive, if anything. Rhys was bringing her in. You had every right to trash her, right here, to Azriel himself. To tell him over and over that you told him so.

But you didn’t. Maybe it was because she’d mattered to him—enough for him to trust her despite the flaws that had undone her. Even if that truth made your chest ache, you wanted him to make his decision with all the facts.

Your care for Azriel wasn’t something led by your pride.

“Selene didn’t mean to hurt me,” you said again, more certain this time. “It was an accident.”

His eyes softened as he observed you. You swallowed and shrugged. “Runa was the one who actually did.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel said. “You were in that situation because of Selene.”

A beat.

“Because of me.”

The air between you thickened. You tried to focus on anything else, anything but the way your chest tightened, the way your heart thudded faster than it should. But you couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked with his.

You thought about the past week, how something had shifted between you. The distance that had grown, how long it had taken him to reach out.  Azriel was someone who didn’t apologize easily. You knew that. But it hurt in ways you didn’t expect because you’d always thought you were different. That your friendship, your bond, was worth the discomfort. 

You thought he’d make it right. That he wouldn't have let it fester for as long as he did, wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving you simmering in your hurt. 

“Az?”

The name escaped your lips unguarded, and his face softened at the sound of it. His wings shifted too, just slightly, like tension bleeding out. You hadn’t said his name like that—without anger, without bitterness—for days.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you actually apologize earlier?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked down, as if the answer was there, somewhere in the floor. “I—I didn’t know how.”

You let out a breath—annoyance, defeat, something too messy to untangle. “It’s actually really easy,” you muttered. “You just open your mouth and say the words ‘I’m sorry for being a dick.’”

There was a soft shuffle as Azriel leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He tilted his head, trying to meet your averted gaze.

“Y/n,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for being a dick.”

You let the words settle for a moment before sitting up straighter. Met his eyes once more. You raised a brow, unimpressed. “A bit late, don’t you think?”

Azriel didn’t move, his eyes meeting yours steadily. He was closer now—close enough that you could almost feel his presence like a tangible, heavy thing. His shadows stirred, curling around your fingers, then shifting toward his hand. They tangled between you both, like they were tying you together, threading through the space that separated you.

“It is,” Azriel said. He looked down the second his words hit the open air. It reminded you of repentance, like a sinner confessing to a priestess. His hands rubbed together before he clasped them into a fist, looking up again.

Even then, his thumbs kept moving, brushing over each other in a way that gave him away. He was nervous.

“I messed up,” he said. “I knew I did the minute I repeated what Selene told me. But I’d messed up so badly that I felt like an apology needed to be big enough to make up for it. I couldn’t think of anything.” He took a shallow breath. “I—I was embarrassed.”

You frowned.  For Azriel, who stood in front of you, unwavering in the face of so many enemies, embarrassment seemed almost foreign.

“Embarrassed?”

“Yes.” His voice was quiet as he admitted it.

“What could you possibly have to be embarrassed about?”

Azriel’s face shifted, his eyes looking almost vulnerable, wide open, like you could see everything. Even his shadows slowed to a faint crawl. They seemed to be waiting for something. You weren’t sure what.

“That you were right. I was changing. For her. And I did it on my own.”

“What?” You barely breathed out, confused. “Why?”

“I just…” He hesitated, his eyes lowering. “I thought it might be for the better. That maybe this relationship, maybe Selene, could mold me into something else, something more…” He trailed off.

“More what?”

“Something—someone, more easy to love.”

Your breath faltered, and for a second, everything froze— like the sheer sadness in his voice was enough to freeze time. And then you were flooded with emotions, each different from the one that came before. Confusion. Anger. Pity. Heartbreak. You felt a deep, hollow ache at the idea that he truly believed he needed to change to be loved. 

For the first time, you weren’t sure what the right thing to say was. If there was one at all. All you could do, in the most genuine tone you could muster, was say, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel’s gaze faltered, his expression shifting as though he wasn’t quite sure how to process your reaction. You glanced at his hands, pushing the rush of emotions back, then met his eyes again.

“You should never feel like you need to change. Not like that.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened, and you found yourself focusing on the crease between his brows. It made him look so tender. So young.

Finally, he spoke again. “I was having a bad day that night you came to talk to me. I didn’t realize how I’d hurt you. I thought I just pissed you off, that you were angry.”

“Well, you did piss me off,” you said, your anger bubbling up once more. His expression faltered slightly at that, but you continued, “I’m still angry. You were dismissive. You made me feel selfish, like I didn’t have the right to care about you.”

The words caught in your throat, threatening to stick, but you pushed them out. You’d spent centuries enduring criticism from males in Prythian politics—males who dismissed your input no matter how educated or experienced you were. You knew how to let their opinions roll off your back, not to let them settle. But you never thought Azriel would be the one to hurt you. Make you feel silly. Stupid. Small.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darted away as if he was trying to find the right words. “It was all so stupid. I can’t believe I entertained her ideas—that I let my desire to be needed make me accuse you of having ulterior motives when you were just being a good friend.”

A good friend.

That was exactly what you were trying to be—and yet, the word hurt you. It made you want to wince like you had when Azriel pressed that rag to your cut. You thought back, unwanted, to Selene’s words, and your chest tightened even more. 

Was it possible for the room to be losing air? Maybe that would explain the stupid decisions you’d been making. The thoughts you could feel in the back of your mind. A lack of oxygen to your brain.

“So why did you believe her?” you asked quietly. Your voice sounded more tired now. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a long pause. “It doesn’t change what I did. It was cruel. It belittled you. And I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, at the set of his shoulders, the faint downturn of his mouth. He was sincere—you could feel it in every word, in the way his eyes stayed fixed on you, like nothing else existed in the room. You didn’t think you’d ever had someone apologize like this before, so open and raw.

And yet, something inside you still simmered. The anger hadn’t disappeared. Not yet.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “For apologizing.”

Azriel didn’t move. He kept looking at you, really looking at you, and you felt pinned beneath the weight of his gaze. His eyes had more green than Cassian’s. It wasn’t something you usually noticed—how the colors shifted in the light, how clear and startling they seemed up close. Now, though, you couldn’t seem to stop noticing, like every detail of him was suddenly magnified.

You wanted to stay angry. You deserved to. He’d hurt you, and that kind of hurt didn’t just disappear because he finally decided to show up and say the right things. But then his gaze held yours a little too long, his voice a little too raw, and that tightrope you’d built for yourself began to fray.  A sharp sting of guilt came, and you couldn’t shake it—couldn’t shake the growing realization that maybe you didn’t want to be angry at him. Maybe it wasn’t even anger anymore.

You cleared your throat as Azriel shifted his attention back to the kit, his shadows curling and shifting behind him. He grabbed a few butterfly bandages, his voice quiet when he spoke.

“You’re better to me than I deserve,” he said, almost to himself. “I think I convinced myself that it was a matter of time until the ball dropped—until you realized I wasn’t worth this friendship. I thought I’d finally reached that point. I almost just laid down and accepted it.”

You frowned at his words. 

Azriel always carried that shadow of self-loathing like a second skin, like he couldn’t believe anyone could see him as more than his darkest thoughts. As much as you wanted to heal him, to assure him that none of it was true, you knew better. It hurt to know that, after everything, he still didn’t believe it. Because, the truth was, Azriel wasn’t hard to love. It wasn’t hard to support him, to be his friend. He had his moments, as anyone did, but he was always there. Which, you supposed, is why the way he treated you hurt in such a deep, unique way.

The thought that he’d believed, deep down, that your friendship—your loyalty—could be so easily withdrawn, made something inside you ache. Made you sad. Angry. 

“I take back what I said earlier,” you murmured. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel’s lips twitched as he searched your face for any hint of a joke. His shadows perched on the apex of his wings, watching you both. Then, when his lips curled, just slightly, they began to move once more. 

“I have my moments,” Azriel said, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. He glanced at you, checking if it landed.  “Maybe one too many head injuries is getting to me.”

“Maybe,” you said, the hint of a smile brushing your lips. “In that case, we should keep an eye on Cassian.”

Azriel’s breath escaped in a quiet, almost relieved laugh.  He carefully removed the butterfly bandages from their small packs, the silence settling around you once more. But the air felt heavy, like there was something unspoken hanging between you. Like you needed to say something to rid yourself of the pressure in your chest. 

“You can’t just lay down and accept it, Az,” you said, your voice firm. His eyes snapped to yours. “That’s not what friendship is. Not ours.”

Azriel nodded, his expression softening. “I know. I’ll do better.” 

You smiled faintly, nodding back. Watching as he turned his attention back to the bandages on your cheek, you took a slow breath. His scent washed over you as he leaned in, familiar and warm. For a moment, you almost let yourself close your eyes, just to breathe him in further, to let his scent linger. Had it always been like this? Or had Selene’s words made you overanalyze everything?

“I was shocked when Cassian told me what happened. I can’t believe that while I was busy kicking myself for not doing anything, you were trying to talk to Selene. Trying to be kind. Do you realize how crazy that is?”

His words weren’t disbelief—they were awe. As if he couldn’t comprehend why you’d chosen the harder path, the path of peace. You could barely believe it yourself, sitting with a scratched-up face and a mind full of unwanted revelations. But in the end, it had been simple. 

You’d done it for Azriel. 

You’d found sympathy for her because of Azriel. You’d set aside your anger, your pettiness, because you valued your relationship with Azriel more. Even after everything, after the way he’d treated you, you still believed in him. Believed in his ability to know what he wanted.

“Your happiness was worth it,” you said finally. “I didn’t want to be the one to stand in the way of it. To make things hard.”

Azriel stopped at that, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel exposed in a way you’d never felt before with him. You shrugged it off, trying to play it cool, and added with a dry chuckle, “Also, I figured if I did the noble thing, I’d get to hold it over you for a few centuries.”

Azriel laughed—a genuine, rumbling sound. His shadows fluttered around him. “Yeah, well, you can. More than a few centuries, actually, because you came out with some battle scars.”

You almost spoke again, but the breath left your lungs as you felt his fingers gently press the butterfly bandages to your skin. It was almost funny to think about how angry you’d been—rightfully so. But now, with the feel of his hands on you, it all began to ease. A specific sense of healing, like the betrayal you’d felt—at least in part—was being mended. That Azriel tending to you now, with the soft touch he so rarely granted, proved that he didn’t mean to hurt you. That he did care. And maybe you could give him a little grace for being a flawed male.

When Azriel turned back to the kit, you touched your cheek, feeling the cut deeper than you expected. You hadn’t realized how long it was. Mor’s earlier reaction made more sense now.

Azriel glanced at the wound, then back at you, brow furrowing. “Is it okay?”

You nodded slowly, a soft breath escaping as you winced slightly. “Yeah, just tender. Thank you.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and moved to place the last bandage. And then, almost too quietly, he murmured, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am.”

“I know.” You hesitated before adding, “But you’re going to have to make it up to me. You know that, right? This wasn’t enough.”

Azriel steadied his gaze on you, leaning back to face you fully. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if anyone had ever looked at you properly. Not like this. Not as he said, “I will. I promise. In ways that are better than some baked goods.”

“Well… I wouldn’t mind some croissants. They looked good.”

Azriel chuckled. “Oh really?”

Soft tendrils of his shadows weaved around you as you nodded, biting back a smile at the tone of his voice. Something so lively. So Azriel. Although you were used to them, you resisted the urge to shiver as his shadows threaded through the ends of your hair. 

“That’s odd,” he said. “I seem to recall them looking untouched. Some even squished.”

The memory of how you’d grabbed the pastry in frustration, squeezing it in your hand, brought a small smirk to your face. You shrugged a little. “I was pissed. I couldn’t give in.”

“In that case, I’ll buy out the whole bakery.”

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile was still there. It was probably obvious to Azriel.  “The Spymaster supporting local businesses by single-handedly buying out a local bakery. How noble.”

He smiled at that, his expression lighter now—boyish, amused. But his words were sincere. “Whatever you need me to do. I’ll do it.”

“And if I told you to swim naked in the Sidra at night, when it’s cold and snowy?”

“I’d ask Rhysand to make an order for all the children to stay inside.”

You laughed at the thought, and the atmosphere shifted. For the first time in a while, it felt like the world had stopped turning its back on you. The anger, the grudge you’d been cradling like a newborn babe, didn’t feel so heavy now. 

Azriel stood, folding the bandages and packing away the medical supplies, and you found yourself watching him without meaning to once more. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly… beautiful he was. There was something in the angle of his jaw, the way the light caught his features that made your breath suddenly catch. He was always handsome, of course, but this was different. 

A sudden wave of curiosity bubbled up inside you. Before you could second-guess yourself, you spoke.  You’d never noticed the sharpness of his eyes, the intensity in them, the way his wings twitched when his shadows curled against them.

“Can I ask you something?” 

He paused, looking down at you with that soft gaze. “Always.”

“Why did you want to change into someone more loveable? Why stay with Selene?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I… I think I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

Azriel nodded. Something sad washed through him, made him blink, made his wings fall an inch closer to the ground. “Everyone around us is finding love. They’re starting new lives.”

Something sharp jabbed at you, a bitter feeling you didn’t quite understand. Was there something wrong with you for not feeling the same need to fall in love?

“I’m not,” you said. 

The expression that took over Azriel’s face was one you couldn’t describe, but there was a new kind of weariness in it. His lips parted as though to say something else, but instead, he simply shook his head with a small, wistful smile. “It’s only a matter of time, Y/n.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re you. You’re amazing. It’s only a matter of time until you fall for one of your many suitors.”

You furrowed your brow, a bitter taste now settling on your tongue. You didn’t respond— didn’t know how to.

Azriel’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, his jaw tightening, but then his face softened. He exhaled slowly. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “I didn’t think I could handle being alone when you moved on, too.”

The way he said it, the weight of it, made something ache inside you, like a deep hollow was opening up in your chest. You swallowed hard, wishing for something—anything—to ease the growing pressure behind your ribcage.

You wanted him to tell you more, to say something that would make sense of all this. But you didn’t know how to ask for that, didn’t even know what you wanted him to say. 

“Because you don’t want to be the last one standing?”

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Azriel’s shadows seemed to quiet around you both.

Then, he gave you a half-smile—sad, lopsided, but somehow more real than anything he’d shown you in a long time. Not for months. Not since he began dating Selene. 

“Something like that.”

Before you could dwell on his words, on why they made you feel sad, disappointed even, Azriel finished packing up the kit and turned toward you.

“All done,” he said.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts, and nodded. “Oh. Cool. Thank you.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers brushing over the growing bruises on your knuckles. Your hair fell forward, partially hiding your face, and before you could move it out of the way, one of Azriel’s shadows darted forward, tugging at the strand. You glanced up as he gently called the shadow back with a subtle motion. 

“So... how do I look?” 

Azriel's eyes flicked over you, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he reached forward, his hand brushing that same strand of hair from your face.

“Tough,” he said, slowly moving the strand back. “I think the bandages really bring out your eyes.”

And even though he’d done it a million times before, as Azriel tucked your hair behind your ear, something inside you cracked right open.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Part Five

authors note:

tending to wounds scene!!! tending to wounds scene!! mor has both bracelets??!? az and selene are done?!?! he's being weirdly calm abt the whole thing?!?! reader is THINKINNN...

now begins the fun time of reader wanting to let az grovel (bc he has entered his groveling era) but also overthinking everything and wanting him to just....go away. also fun time of reader having to prove to everyone that despite things she may...or may not... feel, her intentions with Az were neverr driven jealousy hehe

so fun!!! i have some fun ideas guys. thank yall for reading <3 i wonder if you can guess what might happen.... there are a few hints

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

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@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark 

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered 

@feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli 

@mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

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[reignpage]

Dog-Eat-Dog World

Synopsis: what life is like with Siberian husky hybrid!Gojo Warnings: 18+ mdni, porn with a little plot, fluffy, cursing, dubcon, established relationship, cunnilingus, blowjob, 69, boobjob, rimming, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, switch!Gojo, backshots, spitting, mention of somnophilia, possessiveness, creampie, knotting, not proofread Word Count: 4.9k

Dating Husky!Gojo means there are rarely ever any quiet moments. He talks a lot. In fact, he never seems to stop. He could talk your ear off about anything. And he certainly does try. 

“Y’know, squirrels can be categorised into three types. There are ground squirrels, tree squirrels and flying squirrels. Have you ever seen a flying squirrel? I saw one once and it was so ugly. It had these weird flaps and they look like little rats with wings. Tree squirrels are pretty common. You see them all the time, right? Yeah, there’s no way you’ve never seen a tree squirrel; they’re everywhere.”

Sighing, you ruffle his hair as he lies on your lap, staring up at you with those big blue eyes. Eyes fluttering close, he makes a low growl of appreciation, tilting his head so you can get to that spot by his erect ear that makes his leg twitch. 

“Hmm, I love when you scratch me there. You do it really well, y’know? Like, really really well. No one scratches better than you. I’ve tried myself but it’s never the same.” He barks a sudden laugh. “It kinda sounds like I’m talking about something else, doesn’t it?”

Something on the TV catches his attention and he tenses up, head tilting and ears flickering to focus all his energy on the curiosity on screen. But then your nails scrape his scalp, and his eyes are rolling back. He falls down onto your lap and gives you a lopsided grin. 

“Sorry. What was I saying? Oh, right. You scratch so good. You could scratch me all day and I wouldn’t ever ask you to stop. If you scratched me for the rest of my life, I would never get bored. Do you want to test that out?”

With a soft smile, you reply, “I don’t think that’s possible, Toru. I have to work, and I can’t take you with me, can I?”

He grumbles, “No, I guess you can’t. But I’m rich. Or rather, my family is, so you don’t have to work anymore, you can just stay with me all day, every day, forever! I get it though, so you don’t need to give me the lecture about independence and the important of keeping busy. I just want to be with you all the time! I hate being alone and waiting for you to come home. You take forever. It’s like a whole eternity passes.”

Husky!Gojo loves being on your lap for reasons other than being able to rest as you give him head scratches. No, he likes how close he is to the source of the best smell he’s ever smelt in his entire life. He loves it so much, sometimes he focuses more on the apex of your thighs than whatever’s playing on the TV. 

He shifts his head so he can press his nose right there, burying deeper until he can take long inhales and let your scent engulf his very being. His ears are perked up and his tail is wagging excitedly. 

“Satoru, what are you doing?”

He whines at the strict tone of your voice, and with guilty eyes he peers up at you, wincing once he sees your raised brow. His ears lie flat, tail slowing to a halt, and he stretches his neck ever so slightly to bare more of that long length. 

“It’s not my fault,” he mutters. “You just smell so nice. Can’t I just sniff you for a little longer? I won’t go further, I swear!”

You roll your eyes. You know if you don’t give in now then he’ll badger you relentlessly until you eventually do. Plus, it’s not as if you were impervious to the pressure of his nose against your clit, through your shorts. 

And when you shift under his head, he knows he’s won. 

In a clumsy flurry, he’s flying off the sofa, kneeling between your legs and gripping onto the plush of your thighs to spread them. When he sees that wet spot he’s been manifesting, his ears perk up once more and you can hear the way his tail is swishing on the cold floor. 

“You always play hard to get and yet we always end up just like this,” he growls, amusement sparkling in his sky-blue eyes. Then, he dives in, using his paws to tear apart your shorts and panties in one swift move. His long, slobbery tongue lolls out and he’s licking from quivering hole to twitching clit. Your hips jolt. “Oh, you taste so good. I love you so much. God, I missed your pussy. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve gotten to say hello.”

It’s embarrassing how wet you got and how quickly, but the way he’s lapping up your juices so eagerly makes you forget all about shame. There are very few things better than the way he lays his tongue flat against your clit, allowing you to hump it for a couple seconds before he gets impatient and rolls the little bud around, loving the way sweat is beading down your thighs, making it difficult to get gripping on your warm flesh. 

“Ngh! Toru!” You exclaim. There’s a delicious tingling emanating from your pussy as he laps your essence repeatedly, desperately, like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “Slow down!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you. Instead, he slides his wet, fat tongue all over your tasty pussy with restless abandon — there’s no rhyme or rhythm, it doesn’t even seem like he cares about your pleasure, he’s only seeking to taste every drop of what you’re willing to give him. 

“I love your pussy so much,” he moans against your slit, the vibrations making your back tense. “I want to stay between your legs forever. Can I? Can I? Please?”

When you don’t reply, too lost in the pleasure, he snorts and spreads your cunt with his fingers instead, needing to feel more of your sloppy pussy. It’s dripping, practically oozing with your juice and he thinks he’s in heaven. He licks and slurps and probes your tight opening with his long tongue, snaking it inside. 

“Wait! Satoru!” You thread your fingers through his fluffy hair, nails scraping against a sensitive spot, and he growls. 

“Hey! No fair! You’re trying to distract me!” His voice is muffled, and his canine accidentally nudges the underside of your clit. You clench down on his tongue, and he gets even more irritated. It’s so unfair how, even without trying, you’re making his cock throb so terribly in his pants. 

Seeking revenge, he rubs your clit, matching the tempo of your moans, rubbing it in furious circles with his thumb. You cum hard. “Oh, Toru! Fuck! Fuck! Soooo goooood!”

You’re creaming down on his tongue and the sweet taste is making him lose his mind. He slurps at your entrance even faster, licking wide and wet strokes all over, even at the creases of your thighs, spreading your juices and his saliva where he can reach, perhaps unknowingly or perhaps because he wants to make you remember how good he made you feel when your thighs stick together.

“That’s enough, Toru! I can’t take anymore!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you again. He’s still licking, alternating between flickering the tip of his tongue on your adorable clit and thrusting it inside your pussy, curling the appendage up at your walls. Your legs are shaking and he’s trying to keep you still, lest you ruin his favourite meal. 

“Oh! Oh! Satoru, fuuuuck!” 

You push away from him, nails digging into the armrest, but he’s still licking at your clamped thighs, skimming along your ass and you practically have to shove at his head. 

Minutes later, when your consciousness returns to you, you dare look at him, still kneeling, tail wagging and with a shameful layer of shiny juice dripping down his chin. He tilts his head tauntingly. A cocky grin on his face, he asks:

“Did I do good?”

Husky!Gojo is very energetic. He loves to go to the park and run wild. Of course, it’s not uncommon to see hybrids like him enjoy nature, but up North, where you’re stuck in a perpetual season of winter, it seems like he’s the only one who prefers to be outside than inside, where it’s warm and cozy. 

For the nth time in a row, you throw the neon yellow tennis ball as far as you can, watching your boyfriend chase after it with excited giggles. He’s a little clumsy, what with his long limbs and tall body, but he’s pretty quick. Following the ball, he snatches it in his hand before he runs back to you, pride glinting in his eyes. 

“Did you see how fast I got that? Wasn’t that faster than last time? Do you think I can go faster? I think I can go faster. No, I definitely can go faster. Watch. Make sure you’re watching, okay?”

You laugh at his serious pout before you throw the ball and watch him leap for it. Despite how cold it is, he never seems to bother with anything more than a hoodie and shorts. Whereas you’re wrapped up in a thick coat, scarf, beanie and gloves, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. You’re slightly jealous of his immunity to the weather but you aren’t of his energy. 

Simply observing his limitless enthusiasm makes you feel sleepy. But your boyfriend needs daily exercise otherwise he moans and groans until it becomes your problem. He needs to run around or else he’s clawing at the walls, pulling at your shirt and whining in your ears. Once, you told him to just go without you, and well let’s just say, you had to make him buy you five new pairs of shoes after his tantrum.

“That’s your boyfriend? He’s an energetic thing, isn’t he?” A man pipes up beside you. 

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but he looks harmless enough. You give him a polite smile. “Yeah, he’s fun.”

“You live around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” 

“Oh, well you know, I’m not very social.”

“My wife’s just like you. She doesn’t like the cold very much and we’ve been having discussions about going down South, for the kids. That’s them over there.” Just as he points out, there are children playing tag with your boyfriend, giggling with him as he playfully pretends, they’re too fast for him. “My only concern is, the South isn’t as accepting of hybrids as here. And I don’t want my kids to face any kind of trouble.”

Giving him a sympathetic smile, you can’t say much more. Whilst there are laws protecting hybrids and most people are generally very accepting, there are still close-minded individuals who make life difficult for anyone who’s different. You wonder when that will change. 

“Who are you?”

Satoru has returned, tennis ball being squeezed in his hand as he eyes the stranger. He sniffs the air, assessing whether he’s a threat or not. His ears are pricked forward and tense, as is the rest of his body. He’s ready to attack. 

“He’s just a neighbour.” You give the nice stranger an apology, appreciating the understanding nod he gives you, before you pull your boyfriend away. 

Husky!Gojo is quiet the walk back home. He doesn’t say a word even as you attempt conversation, doesn’t react when you pat him on the back, not even when you tell him you’ll let him do karaoke as loud as he wants; he can be very petulant when he wants to be. 

But once inside, the door clicking into place, he pounces on you. He buries his face into your neck and makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat.

“You smell like him. I hate it.”

He doesn’t waste any time in tearing off your clothes, even as you’re lying on the cold, hard floor naked. You know better than to argue when he gets in these moods — he needs to feel safe again, and you’ll let him do whatever it takes to do so. 

Fishing his already hard cock out, you’re amazed to find him red and leaking; he must have been imagining all the ways he could re-mark his territory on the way back. 

“I hate sharing you with anyone else,” he mumbles, giving himself one, two, jerks before he’s inching forward to lay the hot and heavy thing between your tits. He likes the sight of his almost transparent cum already wetting your skin, the way your nipples are pebbled and you’re completely at his mercy. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you? You’re the best owner, right? You’re not going to abandon me like this?”

“Of course not, Toru. Take what you want, sweetheart. Make me yours.”

Satoru growls, baring his sparkling white teeth before he paws at your tits, pushing them together so his cock is squeezed perfectly between them. He moans at the softness, thumb flicking your nipple like he can’t help himself. 

He makes quick, shallow thrusts, and you kind of hate how he’s fully clothed — you can’t see the way his abs tense, whereas he can see every part of your body. Somehow, that makes you feel tingly down there. 

His salty scent fills the hot air between you, and when you look down your chest, the sight of his red, hot cock disappearing and appearing between your tits elicits a moan from you. The slit is constantly leaking searing cum which he uses to slide better. In a teasing mood, you stretch your tongue out and poke at it when he emerges.

“Ngh! More! Lick me more!” He orders.

Head thrown back, he’s squeezing your breasts harder together, pinching your nipples sporadically. You obey him just this once, puckering your lips so you can suckle at the head when it nears your face. The salty liquid is strong, and you don’t have to touch your pussy to know you’re leaking just as much as he is. 

“You’re mine. Say it! Baby, I need you to say it. Please? Oh, fuck! I don’t want to cum until you say it.”

Amused, you throw him a bone, suckling particularly hard, right before you say, “I’m yours always, forever, Satoru.”

He cums pretty quickly after that. Hot spurts of that almost clear cum paints your face in streaks, dripping down your cheeks onto the floor. It’s going to be a pain to clean but neither of you care. Satoru heaves above you, flicking your nipples as his way of saying ‘thank you’.

The sight of your face and chest covered in his cum quickly hardens his softening cock once more and he grins at you. “I can smell how wet you are, sweet cheeks. You’re making a puddle on the floor. Now, who’s the messy one? Guess, I’ll have to take one for the team and get started on cleaning, yeah?”

Husky!Gojo likes to sixth-nine. There’s something about giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously that has his tail wagging.

Spinning around, he dives his face into your pussy, bending your legs back so he can have full access to everything. He’s slurping again -- he really does love to make that noise. Annoyingly, he begins motorboating your pussy, flicking his head side to side in a rapid pace just because he can. 

You can’t let him have all the fun. 

So, when he dangles his cock over your lips, smearing his salty cum all over it, you don’t hesitate to suck him in, relaxing your throat so he can push in further whilst you fondle his balls. Already, there’s a hard knot forming at the base of his cock. You’ve grown very familiar with it. Circling your tongue around Satoru’s flared, tapered tip, you also run a teasing finger along the knot. 

He thrusts down your throat and sucks at your clit harder. You both moan together. His tail is tickling your forehead as he waggles it in the air with frantic shakes like he doesn’t even realise he has such a big tell, revealing how he’s feeling at every given moment.

Cupping his heavy balls, you massage the warm sacks, imagining all the cum he’s got stored for you. Satoru makes small, humping motions, abandoning your cunt as he chases his pleasure. It’s all too much for him. Your mouth is so steamy, so tightyou’re your scent is attacking his senses. And just as your finger wanders upwards, beyond his knot and his balls, and to that puckered hole, just skimming the edge, he cums in your mouth, spraying down your throat with his salty essence.

“No! T-that’s so unfair! Y-you can’t just do that without -ngh- giving me a heads up,” he complains through his orgasm.

Soon after, he makes you cum on his tongue. He lapped up your dripping pussy, digging deep to taste all of your cream, and thumbing at your clit the way that you like as he stretched out your pussy with his tongue. And when, he too ventured beyond, tongue sliding down your slit and to your puckered hole, your legs wrapped around his head. 

“Satoru!”

“Not so fun now, is it?” He tried to taunt, but he was distracted by the taste of you. “Why haven’t I done this sooner? Ugh, you’re always so mean, keeping things away from me. Hope you learn your lesson, you mean baby.”

He inched his way in ever so slightly, rubbing incessant circles around your clit, and growling at the splash of cum he felt all over his face as you fell victim to his need to even the scales. 

Lying in a heap of sweaty bodies, heavy limbs, and mixed juices, he holds you in his arms, face buried in your neck as he rumbles, satisfied that you smell like him and only him. 

“I hate that park now. Let’s never go there again.”

“Whatever you say, Toru.”

Husky!Gojo is a pain in the ass. He follows you around everywhere and he doesn’t understand boundaries. 

When you get up from the sofa to go to the kitchen, he’s right behind you. He doesn’t even need anything, not a cup of water or a snack. He’s pressed so closely to your back, he becomes your shadow.

Even when you leave the bed in the middle of the night to pee, you don’t need to look up to know he’s standing in the threshold, sleepy eyes squinting at the bright lights, and fuzzy tail swishing lazily behind him. 

“Hurry back,” he demands. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, Satoru. There’s no need to follow me.”

He pouts at that, ears lying flat. And then he’s whimpering. It’s high-pitched and annoying and he knows it. He does it on purpose, knowing that you can’t stand the noise, and it’ll make you rush to get back into bed after washing your hands. 

“Alright, alright. Don’t be a dick.”

Satoru always gets what he wants.

Then, once you’re settled, he’s throwing himself over you, pinning you to the bed and acting as if he can’t hear your muffled complaints. He does it mostly because he wants to keep you close, because he loves the feel of your softness lulling him to sleep. But he also does it to make sure you can’t escape again. 

“Night night!”

Husky!Gojo is a hungry little thing. He’s never satisfied with his own food. No, he scarfs his plate down and then eyes yours. On his face is an expression of complete innocence but you know better. 

“No, Satoru. This is my food.”

Tilting his head, he blinks at you, confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” you counter. 

He laughs. “You’re always so suspicious. I’m just watching you eat because I love everything about you. Can’t I do that? Is it not a free country anymore?”

Sighing, you stop arguing with him, but when a noise behind catches your attention, you make the mistake of looking back. You don’t hear him move but you know he has. So, when you hesitantly turn back around, you’re not surprised to find your plate empty and he’s sporting a lopsided grin, full of pride and amusement.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threaten. 

Satoru laughs again.

Husky!Gojo has very keen senses. He can hear when you’re coming back home before you even show up at the door. He can sniff out where your keys are, where you’ve left your phone, and somehow know when it’s going to rain. He can hear higher pitches than you, and he makes fun of you for it. 

“You can’t hear that? Seriously, it’s so loud. Are you messing with me? Baby, are you? Because there’s no way you can’t hear that. Should we go to the doctors? I’m worried for you.”

More often than not, he’s deathly serious, and he’s so concerned over your weak senses, as if one day they’ll be the death of you. But once in a while, when you catch him biting back a smirk at your furrowed brows and straining ears, you know he got you. 

“Ow! Ow! You’re so aggressive when you’re being teased. Yeah, okay, I admit, that was a lie. There’s no sound. But there could have been, and you wouldn’t have heard it with your tiny little human ears. Oh, you’re so cute!”

Husky!Gojo has a sixth sense for when you’re extra needy. He can tell when you’re ovulating and it’s embarrassing. He knows before you do. Every time. 

Just lounging casually on the sofa, a peaceful calm blankets over you, watching the snow fall from the sky outside. You’re scrolling on your phone, failing to notice, until it’s too late, his approach. His ears and nose are twitching and he’s eyeing your crotch like it’s a curious thing. He creeps up your legs, firm hands kneading your thighs in what seems like a simple massage before his face is burrowing itself in your pussy. 

“Satoru! What on Earth are you doing?”

He peers up at you like it’s obvious. Taking a deep whiff, he nods like there’s no doubt about it. “You’re ovulating.”

“So?”

Rolling his eyes, he explains, “So, you’re going to need my services to satisfy this hungry cunt.”

Spluttering about his silly logic, you’re powerless against his determined hands, pulling down your pyjama bottoms until you’re bare for him. And then he’s eating you out once more. 

He really loves to do that. He does it whenever he wants — when you’ve just gotten back from work, fresh from the shower, whilst you’re cooking, and even when you’re sleeping. Sometimes he does it not to make you cum but just to taste you, like it’s his favourite pastime.

Suffice to say, it’s no challenge for him to make you cum within minutes, leaving you a sticky mess beneath him. And when your pussy have been stretched enough on his fingers and his tongue, he finds no issue sliding inside whilst you’re barely conscious and having no energy to remind him to wear a condom. 

Husky!Gojo hates those things. 

Once Satoru feels your warm walls, his instincts take over. He drives his cock inside, spearing you. It’s stealing your breath, the stretch making your jaw drop and he licks your lips in an apology for the sudden pain. 

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. Take deep breaths, okay. Then it’ll feel good again. It’s alright. Toru’s got you.”

The pain’s receding and pure pleasure is washing over you instead. Satoru is giving you the fucking of your life, and maybe this ovulation period really is making your cunt hungrier than usual, because you quickly wrap around your legs around him, pulling him deeper. 

He makes a low noise of approval. “That’s right, sweet thing. You’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?”

You can feel his cock head rubbing against that spongy spot, you’re left reeling, making desperate gasps for air, and he’s grinning at you. He thinks it’s hilarious how reluctant you were before but now all you can think about is cock. His cock and how he’s making you feel so good. 

Satoru can’t decide between staring at your bouncing breasts or the way your pussy is sucking him in, leaving his cock shiny with your juices. Your clit is exposed, and, without much thought, he spits a fat glob onto it, watching the way it twitches so adorably. 

Then, as if he’s tired of foreplay, he tears off your clinging limbs and spins you around, wrangling you into his favourite position. Now, you’re on your knees, a hand on your back forcing you down into an almost painful arch. This way he can see everything and when he slides back in, he swears he goes even deeper, his tip kissing your cervix when he bottoms out. 

“Oh, Toru! Too deep! I c-can’t.”

He shushes you. “You can and you will. You have before, remember, baby? You love it when I fuck you from behind, don’t you?”

Soon, his relentless pummelling begins again, his heavy balls smacking against your clit, setting your nerves alight. He reaches below, one hand pressing down on that bulge in your lower stomach and the other twisting a nipple between his fingers. Satoru sees the light sheen of sweat on your back and he licks a stripe up your spine. 

“Every part of you tastes so good. How is that even -ha- possible?” He growls. 

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Instead, you beg, “Harder, Toru! Fuck me harder!”

And so, he does, he drills his pulsing cock inside, rubbing your clit as he pounds you over and over again, forcing your body to dive forward on the sofa, head hanging over the armrest. He’s stretching you out so much you almost can’t believe that he’s really in there, so when you examine your poor, sloppy pussy with your fingers, you can only whimper when you feel his cock undeniably hammering inside. 

“Told you this pussy’s gonna -ha- want me to fill her up. Now, who looks silly?”

You also feel the knot making its way in deeper with every thrust and you’re scared. How you manage to take it in every time is beyond you.

You forcibly cum — there’s no way you can’t, not when he’s meeting every sensitive spot inside and outside of your pussy, not when his delirious moans and groans is filling your head like a drug. Through your orgasm, he fucks you like you’re nothing but a wet hole, degrading and humiliating you for his own pleasure. 

“Satoru! No more! I can’t take anymore!”

“Nah, just a little -ha- more, baby, please? Take it all for me, okay? I need -ngh- you to take it all. Can’t be that -oh- hard if you’ve done it so many times before, can it?” He laughs, breathy and strained.

Your orgasm sparked in your womb, flaring out to your clit and your tits until your legs begin to tremble and you’re a shaking mess beneath him. And just as you’re about to give out, he holds your hips steady and slams his entire length inside of you, shoving that fat knot in and you’ve never felt so full.

“Fuck! You’re so tight. Oh God, I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you!”

His cum sprays inside of you, cock throbbing along with the pulsing clenches of your walls. His knot swells up, ballooning and stretching you out even more. Your pussy spams as he fills your womb with his cum. There’s so much of it and as he plugs you in, you can’t imagine there’s any space left inside of you. 

“Tell me I’m a good boy, baby please. Tell me I’m fucking you good. Please, I need it!”

Groggily, you managed to say a muffled, “You’re such a good boy, Toru. Always so good for me. My best boy.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” He whimpers. He’s not even talking to you, you’re pretty sure. He has a tendency to get so lost in the pleasure he genuinely believes you and your pussy are separate entities. “I love you so much. God, I want to stay inside forever.”

Husky!Gojo slumps against you, pinning you down again. You’re still skewered on his long, fat cock, the knot there keeping you joined for what feels like forever. Both of your bodies are sticky with sweat and mixed juices. But he doesn’t care, in fact, he loves it. He’s making lazy swipes of your neck and your face with his tongue. 

“Was I good? Did I do good?”

You wind an arm back, seeking out his fluffy hair, and once you feel its softness, you scratch him behind his ear, hearing his tail whack the sofa in rapid pats. “Yes, Toru, you were good.”

He huffs proudly at that. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath, trying to reorient yourself, and in the distance, you can feel the soreness that will creep in, but you don’t mind it. It’s hard to care when Satoru feels so warm and strong over you, encasing you in his love to shelter you from the cold as you both watch the snow continue to fall through the steam fogging up the glass. 

“We’ve got probably around twenty minutes before this thing goes down,” he mutters. “Wanna play I spy?”

[imsofreakingtired]

what if you and Sevika had a lesbian situationship divorce and she goes on a shimmer bender crashout

content warnings: blood, violence, self-destructive thoughts, uhmm chaotic angst

like she just doesn’t stop using it. she has a belt full of Shimmer cartridges and uses three at a time whether she’s fighting or just needs a kick, an escape.  

uses it even when she goes to the brothel and just picks any girl who looks remotely like you. she sees you in the sky, hears your voice echo through the streets, feels your hands on her skin when she’s in the gardens, thinks if she closes her eyes she can almost believe the girl she’s with is actually you. calls out your name huskily when she comes. hates herself for it but can’t stop the cycle. and she always fucks on Shimmer, rushing through her veins. making everything dizzy and hot.

she does it even more because she remembers how you always scolded her for using Shimmer, saying it would eventually destroy her. a part of her wants to destroy herself for leaving you. a part of her hopes you’ll save her before she does. 

one night she gets caught up in a street fight and takes on like ten muggers at once. they have knives and masks and want her Shimmer supply, she laughs with the freedom of a woman who has lost all hope. last thing she remembers is thinking, “oh, baby’s not gonna like this.”

you hear a bang on your door in the middle of the night and you jump out of your half-sleep, a knife in your hand. you’re so sure the enforcers finally found you and you know you’re not going down without a fight. you open the door, gripping the blade so tight your palm aches. but there are no enforcers. it’s just Ran, their eyes wide and desperate. they’re propping up a lifeless figure, knees nearly buckling under the weight. Sevika. 

your first thought: Oh Janna. I’ve lost her. 

the knife falls to the floor with a clatter. you open the door wide enough to let Ran in, more dragging Sevika than walking her. you cast a swift look up and down the street to make sure they had no unwanted company following them, then you shut the door firmly and run over to help Ran prop Sevika in a chair. 

“I was gonna take her to Singed,” Ran explains. “but do you know what she said? ‘fuck Singed. i’m not going to Singed.” 

Ran looks at you. “she told me to take her to you, or let her bleed out in the street.” 

you fall to your knees in front of Sevika, and you try to keep your hands from shaking as you inspect her. she’s in bad shape. her mech arm is broken and shimmer leaks out from its wires onto the floor. her shirt is torn and bloody. her face is darkened with bruises and blood, but even in this state you’re confident that whatever she did to the goons that attacked her was ten times worse. 

she stirs awake, half-conscious. grey eyes look up at you in a haze. you wish she hadn’t. you wish she just stayed unconscious. because now that she’s giving you those eyes you can’t even remember why you were angry, you can’t even remember the emotion itself. 

you want to cling to even the memory of being angry at her, just so you don’t fall apart looking at her like this. 

“help me move her to the bed,” you tell Ran, and together you prop Sevika up again and lay her down on your bed. you barely notice the Shimmer staining your clothes, all you can see is the shallow rise and fall of her chest. 

“i can take it from here,” you tell Ran. “thanks.” 

“just…keep her alive.” 

when Ran is gone, you set to work cleaning the wounds. the cuts aren’t as deep as you feared, only one - a gash across her right forearm -  needing stitches. Sevika stirs and groans just as you finish dressing the cuts. she mutters something. you lean in close and hear her whispering your name.

“i gotta tell her…” Sevika trails off. “i gotta tell her i’m sorry.” 

something fails in your heart when you hear this. you smooth her hair out of her eyes and kiss her forehead. 

“i’m right here, you idiot.” 

Sevika’s eyes open and rest on your face. and you’re thinking fuck, fuck. whatever she did or said to hurt you didn’t come close to the sharp pain of seeing her expression relax, her eyes soften with relief. you take her face in your hands, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. 

“i’m sorry, too.”

[madamechrissy]

Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, Sukuna fks reader with both his cocks in both holes ahem, (yayyy) lots of use of all his tongues and mouths OF COURSE, public sex, cockwarming, Sukuna calls you little bunny and slutty etc, soft Sukuna, he's falling in LOVE but is stubborn lol true form Sukuna, smacking (pussy, titties, ass, face- all of it lmao) THIS CHAP IS ALMOST ALL SMUT and fluff w/a little angst at the beginning

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: This is ALL fluff and SMUT lol, Four Parts (this is the final one) you're not gonna get much plot, I really wanted them being cute!? don't ask.- also I suck at writing powers, so sorry if I fk anything up that's canon lol! - WC this chap- 7.9k

Comments/ reblogs appreciated if you like this silly stuff, ty for all the love on these little parts they make me so happy❤️

<<<part three

Part Four- Final Part

Two weeks later

Why have you fallen in love with such an ass?

You had asked this question to yourself many times, finally Sukuna was back home, but you refused to go see him, hiding in your room instead. Sukuna had summoned you to dine with him, but you simply locked yourself in, fiddling with the brilliant necklace, the only thing he’d left aside from his infuriating note, watching how the candlelights reflect the facets of the gems.

Knock knock knock.

“I’m not coming, Uraume.” You say, knowing their knock now.

“The King is demanding you come, you must obey.”

“Then he can drag me out.” You hear their footsteps softly padding along the corridors, echoing in the halls.

You wanted to see him, you were dying to see him, but you were far, far too angry, too hurt right now to face him. The past couple of weeks of loneliness, of curling up in his throne and inhaling the scent he left, of being just pathetic over him, over everything he had said. He acted as if he could make you not love him, but that was completely impossible.

You fell for him, for the King of curses, who you have been promised to, the one that your powers are the antithesis of. The being so intimidating to all, but you knew what it was to have his arms around you, what it was to sit on his lap in the throne room like his Queen, which you were. You know what it was to be kissed so thoroughly, the little intimate moments he tries to brush off.

You’re in love with him, and you can’t face him.

Suddenly your door is being banged on, you tense just a bit, jumping now, breath coming in small pants when you hear his booming voice. “I’ll blast this door off the fucking hinges if you don’t come out, wife.”

You huff, scowling as your slippered feet gently pad across the cold marble floor below you, hand shaking as you touch the brass knob, you’re terrified you’ll fold once you face him. You have no willpower, he could just look at you and you’ll open for him, so pathetically, but you’re so angry with him too, you’re conflicted as you pause, knowing he’s right on the side of the door.

“I don’t want to see you.” You choke out then, hiding a sob and failing, Sukuna smacks the door again, making it vibrate.

“Open now, brat. I swear I’ll destroy your entire wing right now.”

“Why? You don’t even like me.”

“Psh, you insolent-”

“Go away, your Majesty.” You can practically hear him seething, feeling his energy so strongly then.

“You open this door now and eat. I command you as your fucking King and husband.”

“Ugh! Fine.” You open the door then, tears glimmering unshed in your eyes, Sukuna sees it then, the hurt on your face, the face he couldn’t get out of his head for weeks. Eyes that haunted him as much as they annoy the shit out of him.

“Do not dare cry.” He orders, you stand straight up then, fists clenched at your sides.

“Your audacity knows no bounds, you cannot constantly command me not to do things, to feel things. If it is so terrible just leave me be, you’ve more than had your chances to make an heir I’m sure. We’ll see if it takes.” Sukuna slams the door open when you try to shut it, walking in now, step by step.

“When were your monthlies?” He asks, you blink then, shaking your head as you try to think.

“I am due this week, so we will know soon if you must lay with me again.”

All four of his ruby eyes glare now. “If I must!?”

“Indeed. I’ll inform you, now… if you please-”

“Fuck that.” Sukuna shuts your door, turning and pressing you against it now, intimidating as his arms bar you, two on either side of your head, two cupping your face. “As if you don’t desire me.”

“I do, but I will not be hurt and dismissed like I’m some stupid child.”

“You basically are to me.”

“Then go. Concubines must miss you- ah!” Sukuna’s slammed his lips on yours now, melting you completely, you’re clinging to him so desperate as he lifts you like you are nothing, you’re just fucking dangling as he holds you so high, lips already swelling from his kisses.

“I am here, I want you, got it brat?” Sukuna speaks through his teeth, two hands gripping your ass rough over your robes. “I need you.”

“Need me?” Your brain short circuits, he’s kissing you desperate, it is needy how he’s all over you, you’re trembling, thighs shaking around his thick waist, tasting the sweet wine on his tongue as it devours your mouth.

“Need to be inside you, fuck I’ve missed it.” You gasp as he parts your robes with two hands while the other two press you against the door, his tongue on his bare abdomen lapping at your bare pussy, you’re whimpering at it, clit throbbing. “Missed your taste, gods.”

“Kuna… you’re…” His thick, long tongue is lapping at you, his lips back on yours again, you’re clinging to his bare shoulders, long nails are pressing against his skin, you’re shaking when he’s lapping at you, over and over, eyes rolling back.

“Need my cocks inside you, bunny. Waited too long.” He huffs, carrying you to the bed now, undoing his robes, you stop him, shaking your head and closing your thighs, earning his glare. “Excuse me, brat?” He shoves them open, only for you to close them once more, glaring right back.

“You left me with a stupid note and some necklace, as if that’ll make anything better! Don’t, I can’t think straight when you touch me.” You whimper those words, he’s cupping your face, red eyes dilated, lips hungry as he lays naked over you.

“I’ll buy you more things, anything, have you dripping with every gem in the fucking country, hmm?”

“No, Kuna. No. You didn’t have to love me back, but to leave me like that? To write your stupid note!? No!” You shove at him, tears falling from your eyes, your body and soul ache for him, but your heart is hurting, as you look at his face in the night, the lights casting shadows on all the hard planes of his face.

“You are stupid to think you do, have you not come to your goddamn senses? Why can’t you just enjoy it… enjoy this.” He’s slathering kisses down your ribcage, your tummy, nipping at your flesh with sharp teeth, his long black nails pressing into your skin, making you soaking wet with every stroke of his hand, of his tongues darting out from all his damn hands.

“If you’re… so… mmm… horny then go… to them- ah!” Sukuna slaps your cheek then, you slap him right back, then you’re devouring each other again, it’s insanity, you’re biting the King of Curses lip so hard you draw blood.

“I don’t want anyone but you, annoying pest.” He grips your chin then, kissing you with the blood all over his mouth, you whine into his lips now, hips arching.

“Why?” You whisper, he sighs, shaking his head. “Why? If you do not answer you will not lay with me.”

“You’re commanding me!?” He leans up on his arms, looming over you, and you’re nodding, watching his ruby eyes narrow. “I cannot explain why I only want a stupid bunny like you, but I do.”

“Is it because you care? At all?” He leans off you then, groaning and running a big hand through his pastel hair.

“I cannot fathom how I’ve come to have such an annoying, insolent girl. Perhaps I should lay with them, if you say so.”

“Go then!” You stand, shoving at the big luk of a damn man, he’s like steel under your palms, his jaw set.

“You want me to?”

“No!” You’re sobbing then, and he’s shaking his head, studying you, hating that you drive him to insanity, hating that all he wants is this brat who smacks him, who bites at him, how can he handle this? You’re making him so fucking crazy, he just wants you screaming in pleasure, not this. “But you should, if you don’t care.”

“I do care, foolish brat.” You shake your head even as he cups your face once more, thumbs brushing under your jaw line, feeling your fluttering pulse point. “Fragile little human, I’ve let you go on too much.”

“You keep trying to scare me away, it won’t work, all you’re doing is hurting me instead, hurting us.” You let him wrap his enormous fingers around your throat, he does it gently, hand shaking, losing his composure.

“What can I do to make you smile again?” He whispers, releasing your throat, thumb brushing your lower lip.

“Let me express myself without doubting me, without making fun of me for it. I know my own heart, you cannot tell me what to feel.” He curses then, looking up at the ceiling, despising the way he wants to make you happy, please you.

You’ve become everything he can think of and he despises that too.

“Must you say the nonsense?” He murmurs, and you smile just a bit, stepping closer, how insane are you, to have the King of Curses hand around your throat and not even flinch? No, you smile instead.

“I won’t constantly say it, but you needed to know how I felt. What if I never saw you again?” The guilt eats at him now, picturing you, the staff has said you’ve barely left the room, that you’ve barely eaten, he even sees your cheeks more hollow, your waist smaller under his touch, infuriating him further.

“I hear you’re refusing food, how are you to make an heir if you waste away?” He says terself, grabbing you tightly now by the waist.

“I was depressed, I cannot eat when I’m depressed.” You whisper.

“So you’ll eat now, even if I have to force food down your throat, got it?” Come to dinner with me.”

“What, you’ll feed me like some baby?”

“You are a dumb little baby. Now.” You stomp after him, tying your robes as he does, you sit far away from him, across the giant table, further infuriating him as you chew your meal.

“Happy, King?” You ask, sipping your water now, Sukuna scoffs, standing up and walking to you.

“Am I happy that my bride is the most petulant brat? No.” You smack at his hands when he starts trying to shove fork fulls in your mouth. “Stop it this instant.”

“I don’t need you to feed me, I need you… I need…” You shake your head, standing and turning, earning him yanking your back against his chest, two arms wrapping you now. “S-stop…”

“You’re aching for me, bet your cunt is soaked. Why fight this, you stubborn girl?” You gasp in pleasure as he cups you between your thighs, feeling your heat against his fingers. “You know you want me inside your slutty cunt.”

“I want you to not be an ass. Ngh!” Sukuna has you bent over the table now, one hand pinning your wrists as the other lifts your robes, your thighs tremble when he sinks two long fingers, curling them just so, you’re weakly whining out and dripping down his hand and wrist, head pressing against the tablecloth. “Mmm…”

“You want me to fill you, don’t you?”

“W-want you… not so fucking… mean.”

He laughs, leaning over you now, but his eyes catch yours, and something takes his breath away, making him gulp now. “Fine, say your stupid sentence if it makes you stop those tears. I only want you moaning.”

“You won’t g-get mad again?” You whisper, he shakes his head, continuing to move his fingers up and down inside your slick little hole, aching for his huge cocks so badly you can’t think.

“Just get it over with, bunny.”

“Love you.” He moans now, kissing you deeply, your words hit him so hard his usually steady hands tremble, he hates those stupid words, from your perfect lips, but he hates you sad much more. You exhale, sniffling, when he stands, turning you and picking you up, holding you tightly.

“Annoying.” Is all he manages, gulping then, you sigh, clinging around his neck now, kissing him softer, so soft he feels too much. “I need to be inside you, do not make your King beg.”

“Would it be so bad, you begging for once?” You whisper, he exhales, sitting you on the table, between your spread thighs, two hands shoving them apart while two fondle your breasts over your robes.

“You think I’ll beg? I’m a King.” You hum softly, trailing your hands down his hard body, finding one of his cocks under his robe, stroking then, catching his eyes as you feel his hard length, you watch his lip part, lashes lowering.

“Maybe you will beg for me. Beg to be inside me again?” You bring his tip against your soppy cunt, he grips you tightly, but you shove him back, smiling.

“You’ll not tease me.” He pulls you against him, but you shake your head, back to stroking him instead, he moans out, resting his head against yours. “You want me just as bad as I do, stop pretending.”

“You alright, Kuna?” You whisper now, teasing your clit with one of his leaky tips, he tries to pull you again but your free hand stops him. “What do we say when we want something?”

“I am so not fucking begging.”

“Hmm. Good night then.” You let go of him, hopping off the table, he scoffs, yanking you by your wrist now, yanking you back, leaning over you, he is intimidating.

“Your pretty pussy is aching, isn’t it?”

“Pretty?” You whisper.

“All of you is. Pretty and irritating.” He kisses you deeper, you feel it then, how much of himself he’s putting to you, and you want to cave so badly.

“Then why don’t you beg to come to my bed?” 

“Tch, no… you beg for me to fill you.” You’re whining out as his tongue slips against your clit again, your eyes roll back. “So stubborn, clit is twitching, pussy is drooling.”

“Sh-shut up.” Sukuna smirks though, carrying you up the stairs now, so quickly he has you there before you can blink, you get dizzy when he’s got you back laid on his bed, moaning when he parts your robes and gazes.

“This is where you belong, in my bed naked, constantly.” He huffs, watching as your hair splays out, your purple robes under you, you look so fucking pretty he can’t stand you, how bad his cocks hurt, the precum oozing out of his tips, decorating your inner thighs with white droplets,be spreads them across your skin.

“You need to apologize.”

“What!? Absolutely not.”

“Then we will just lay here.” Sukuna is infuriated now, shoving up off the bed to stare at you, as if you've grown four arms yourself.

“What do you want from me, woman?”

“To apologize for being a dick, leaving without saying goodbye.” He sighs and clenches his teeth.

“Cease that eye watering nonsense. Will you smile if I say it then?” You nod. “Fine, I'm sorry that I did not say farewell, and for… for finding your words foolish.” You stroke his face then, thumbs brushing over the sharp jut of a cheekbone.

“Thank you, Kuna. I missed you.” You whisper softly, you feel the warmth spread through your body, find yourself falling deeper and deeper.

“Your body missed me too, didn't it?”

“Did yours?” Your hand goes to his bare chest, where his heart thuds faster under your touch. He gulps, nodding just a bit, an imperceptible movement that anyone else might miss, but it emboldens you then. “Then lay on your back, my King.”

“Me on my back?” You can tell then, he hasn't done it, let someone have control. You stroke down his chest, his abdomen, trailing his tattoos.

“I'll make you feel very good, husband.” He does as you command, laying on his back, two hands behind his head as the other two find purchase in your hair while you're kissing down his throat, his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat when your tongue darts across a flat nipple.

“You’re an annoying pest.” He grumbles, you smile against him as your lips trail even lower, kissing along the black lines that slide across him, while your fingers set to tug and expose his cocks fully, earning his groan. “Stop teasing me.”

“Why can’t I? You certainly do enough, hmm?” You’re kissing the tips of him now, tongue flicking across the little slits that keep pumping white, inhaling his musky scent as you go.

“M’gonna shove them both in your insolent mouth at once.” He grumbles, but he doesn’t, he watches you with four dilated eyes, the lower ones so lidded they’re just slits that are glimmering in the soft candlelight of his room, which casts shadows across the wall so lewd, your head bobbing on one of his cocks now. “F-fuck…”

You enjoy sucking him, you’ve had much practice in a short time, enjoy the way his lips part, the way his muscles tense, how his hips buck up and jerk. You brace yourself with one hand on the bed, the other stroking his lower cock, his huge, muscled frame trembling under your caresses, his moans urging you.

“Take it deeper, brat, hmm? Can you?” He’s taunting you, but his voice is breathy, you feel him losing his control when his hands yank on your hair, and you take his cock deep in your throat, swallowing and moaning around it, making it vibrate. “Fuck! Need to be inside you, now.”

You pull back, cheeks hollowing, lips smacking and leaving trails of saliva like little glittery strings when you kitten lick his tip again. “Not yet, Kuna-ah!”

Sukuna uses his lower arms to drag you up now, holding you damn near suspended in the fucking air, you’re panicking as he’s chuckling. “Oh you little brat, you really think I can’t do anything I want to you?”

“Put me d-down this instant!” He’s chuckling at you, ass of a man, before he starts dragging your hips to slide across his cocks, between your soppy slit, you’re coating every inch of him, tears falling at how good it feels.

“You’re gonna get filled all night, bunny.” He slams you down on one of his cocks then, you’re screaming at the stretch, cunt throbbing around him, he hisses. “Loosen up, now.”

“C-can’t, m’gonna…” You’re getting eased off his cock again, then yanked back on the other, as his tongue from his stomach slathers your clit, you’re nearly sent over the edge, head falling back, hair falling like a curtain down it. “Ngh!”

“Wanna fill both your slutty holes.” He huffs, one of his tips pressing against your little puckered hole now, he chuckles at your expression. “Not yet, you’re too much of a frightened little prey.”

“M’not, ah- close, close… please…” You whine now, he’s just teasing you with his tips again, one slipping in your other hole, it feels so good you can’t take it, especially when his tongue is lapping at you again, two hands squishing your breasts.

“That’s it, cum all over me, now bunny.” He huffs, looking at you as you fall apart over him, you’re shattering while your cum is pouring all over, making a slick mess, body twitching when he sinks you back fully on one again. “There she goes, she loves being filled by her king, huh?”

“Yes, yes!” You’re over pretending to have control, just clinging to him as he fucks up into you, faster and harder, thrusts jostling you so much your damn teeth click, your pussy is pulsating all around him, your arousal pooling at the base of one cock, while he pummels into you.

“Perfect pussy, s’mine, hmm? Made f’me, made to take me.” You’re whimpering your answer, pathetically, and Sukuna’s thrusts falter, he leans up, kissing your lips, making you fall even deeper, as you struggle to stay on this plane of existence whatsoever, it’s like you’re floating and falling into the abyss that’s him.

“Mhm.” You manage, but it’s enough to urge him, to make his cock pulse for you, leaking against your cervix.

 “Gonna take this seed, fill your womb with my heir.”

“Please, please Kuna. Want it, w-want it.” He moans then, sloppy kisses between you both, as your cunt milks his cock for every spurt of cum that starts shooting up inside you.

“Feel m-me?” He’s exhaling, his voice a whisper, he can barely handle how good your cunt feels around him, how she’s gripping him, your eyes roll back in your skull, your mouth open, breasts arched against him when he stuffs you so full. He feels your cervix as he keeps pumping more and more cum. “Asked you a question, brat.”

His gentle smack on your face only makes you cum harder, he groans then, smacking your ass, your tits, little gentle thwacks that prolong you, while his cock stays buried. You’re a trembling goddamn mess, blinking blackness out of your vision as you struggle to focus on your King, sprawled under you, his eyes locked on every movement of your body and face.

“Kuna…” You whisper, blinking rapidly then, he eases out of you, moaning when he watches the mess pouring out of your hole.

“You’re wasting it again, tch.” You barely register how you are on your back, Sukuna’s long fingers stuffing the cum trickling all over into your sore cunt.

“Too much, mmh!” He laughs then, booming laughter that fills his chambers, easing his fingers out and shoving your thighs up, folding you in half. “Wh-what are you doing, I’m sore… ass of a man- ah!”

Sukuna’s thwap on your cunt stings, as he glares down at you. “I’ve had enough of your mouth running, you missed me filling you, didn’t you? Answer.”

“Y-yes.” You’re shaking when his face is between your thighs, despite all of his tongues, the one on his face was the sexiest when it laps you up, something about your little hands in his hair, his broad shoulders spreading you wide, just did more to you. Like he was worshipping you. “I’m sorry I was so… mad at you… my feelings…”

“Your feelings this and that, tch, you’re so needy aren’t you?” You scowl right back, but his tongue is swiping up your slit now, before he leans up, and your mouth eagerly opens, you swallow both of your tastes, earning his satisfied smirk. “Since you’re so needy, I’ll clean you, get you ready for more, yes?”

“Please, my King.” He is between your thighs again, lapping you up, shoving his tongue inside every bit of you, your cunt is pushing out all of his white ropes, which he greedily drinks. “Kuna!”

“Stupid name.” He huffs, tongue flicking your sensitive clit, he spreads your puffy lips wide, watching the little thing twitch with an amused smirk. “We taste so fucking perfect together, you know that?”

“We do… ah! Sensitive!” He’s grinning, sharp teeth against you as he exposes your clit, flicking his tongue over and over, while two of hands grip your hips, dragging you on his mouth. Your hips try to back off but he doesn’t let them, until you’re cumming all over his face again, which he has buried against you, orgasm wrecking your mind and any resolve you ever had.

“How many loads can you take in this tummy, hmm?” He looks up, face coated in your arousal, one hand pressing on your tummy now.

“As many as you want to give me.” Your words destroy him, to hear them from you? It’s like the dreams he’s been cursed with for weeks.

“Good bunny.” You eat it up, the praise, the way he looks at you when he is back to fucking your now sore pussy, his other cock stroking your clit, making you feel so much, too much, wh. “Good, good bunny. Take it all, greedy f’me aren’t you?”

You do, you take all of him somehow, you can’t figure it out, how she stretches to accommodate his length, his thickness, but she does. Your body is begging for more, your eyes glazed with pleasure, as his cock slams into your womb, filling you so deep you swear he’s fucking up your insides, and your cunt keeps greedily milking him, taking everything he’s got.

Sukuna flips you so suddenly you’re breathless again, climbing on top of you, two slick fingers slipping in your little untouched hole again, while he fucks you with one cock, his other arms wrapping your waist. His breath is against your ear while you’re crying out at the stretch, still pushing out remnants of his cum from earlier, dripping with your cum down his red blankets.

“Ready for me to cum in both your holes?” He murmurs, one hand cupping your face, turning you towards him you nod weakly, craving him, he moans into your mouth, tongues sloppy as they play, and he slips his other cock into that hole now.

“Kuna, too much… too big…” You’re crying out when he enters you, both cocks now, just their tips then a little further.

“Relax, bunny. You’re all mine, aren’t you?” You nod weakly, and it starts feeling so good, when he puts you on your knees, your ass arches for him, which he’s gripping brutally, spreading you wider. “Look at you, both your slutty holes begging for me.”

You can’t speak anymore, already weak from the orgasms, now he’s never even softened you don’t think, his cocks full of blood, when he sinks them further, you’re gripping the blankets, head buried, muffling your cries. He’s fucking both of your holes steadily, not going fully in, he’s maybe a few inches, but it’s so good, you’re so full of Sukuna.

“Feel me everywhere, you’re mine, all of you.” One of his hands entangles in your hair, messy already, as he feels both of your holes clenching him, your cunt is soaking wet, your ass so tight it’s strangling his cock, all while his balls are smacking your clit. “Hear it?”

“Y-yes…” You do hear it, the smacking of skin, the wetness of your cunt, making your ass arching up for more.

“Perfect f’me, fuck I missed you.” You tremble under him now, trying to turn your weak neck to look up at him, and he’s bending over you, big body taking you completely over, sinking deeper and deeper. “Yes, brat, I d-did.”

“Love you, Kuna.” You whisper, instead of yelling at you, he moans, kissing your mouth, a hand choking your throat, taking your oxygen while he takes you over, cocks moving easier and easier.

“Cum all over me, lemme feel it, you can do it hmm, my Queen?” At those words you’re ended, to hear how he professes them, you begin climaxing, ass clenching one cock while your pussy drools over his other, he has to pause, you feel so fucking good all around him.

“Kuna!” Your stupid nickname ruins him, as does how tight you’re gripping him, when he sees your pretty face all fucked out.

“Ready for me to fill you so full you can’t walk or run that mouth?” He huffs, you nod eagerly, and he’s pouring his seed in both your holes, the sensations just prolonging your orgasm. Sukuna’s grip tightens as he cums so hard, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, leaving a bruise, you love it, love the sting, love the way he marks you, the way he feels.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, his cocks still buried deep, your pussy and ass spasming around them, catching your breath now, as is your King. His eyes are closed, his breathing ragged, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen, not one bit, keeping you pinned, keeping you full.

“You’re mine, stupid little bunny.” He whispers, his voice hoarse, his teeth sinking into the back of your shoulder now.

“Yours.” You whisper back, your voice trembling with satisfaction, your heart fluttering at the possessiveness in his tone.

He pulls out slowly, a gush of cum following him, painting your thighs, your holes, all over until it’s a dripping mess, the wet spot under you growing, mixing with your sweat soaked bodies. He turns you, cupping your face and hovering over you, watching your breasts rise and fall, spreading your thighs and smirking at all the cum oozing from your holes.

“You called me… your Queen.” You whisper, and he rolls his eyes.

“Tch, that is what you are? Foolish brat.”

“I enjoyed that.” He smirks now, leaning down to hover over you, studying a face that’s become far too important too fast.

“Did you now?”

“I did. Thank you for… not telling me to stop saying it.” You manage, emotions in your throat, you don’t expect him to ever say it back, and that hurts, but you feel so connected then, in the quiet night under him.

“It’s foolish but I tire of your frown, that upsets me. With annoyance.” He covers up the truth, that your sad face breaks him.

You smile almost knowingly, as if you can read him so well. “My King, may I start the training finally, tomorrow?”

“You’re still set on that, huh?” You nod. “Fine, I’ll do whatever you wish, as long as you…”

“Smile?”

“That.” You do so then, brightening your face, making his stomach flip, he hates that you control him this way, still wondering just what powers or spells you’ve put on him. “Better.”

Soon you’re snuggled up to him after being cleaned up, bare against his naked frame under the heavy covers, Sukuna loves even your little cold hands and cold feet, but he sure wouldn’t be letting you know. “Warm them up, now you pest.”

“We’ve been through this, I need you to do that.” He scoffs, pulling you against his chest, one hand brushing your hair back soothingly, as you yawn. “I missed this, you holding me.”

“Shut it, brat.” You smile as you nuzzle him, and soon you fall asleep, while Sukuna stares up at the ceiling, the one painted with ancient wars, wars he’s participated in, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to live without you.

How annoying you are.

*****

“Sore, bunny?” Sukuna teases the next day, as you begin training, you glare at him now. “What?”

“You know I am.” You hiss, considering he’d fucked you twice last night, you’re sore in places also you can’t even explain, in ways that make your cheeks heat up while you walk.

“Weak little human.” He taunts, you hold your hands up then, focusing as he’s been showing you for hours. “Gonna do something, bunny?”

You glare when he taunts you, and then gasp as he begins to cleave several trees in half. “Holy…”

“This is why we needed to be outside.” He’s smirking sadistically, so very proud of his powers, you roll your eyes. “Try to stop me, bunny, close your eyes, don’t get distracted.”

You concentrate, feeling your own energy fill you, shutting your eyes, and positioning your hands just so, until you hear a grunt. You open them, realizing you’ve completely locked Sukuna’s arm up, he’s grinning though, nodding at you, and you use the energy to slam him into the ground.

“Fuck…” He’s huffing, you gasp now, running to him, letting your energy fall, only for him to drag you on him, laughing. “You are a witch.”

“A witch?”

“Yes, a witch. Dropping me to my fucking knees, making me stupid for you, haunting my dreams.”

“Your dreams?” You whisper, hair falling to the side, brushing his broad shoulders over his bare chest as he holds you on him, his head on the grass below. Trees are decaying, grass is withering, all from him, but you think it’s beautiful, the destruction he’s brought.

“All of you, endlessly irritating.” You smile then, realizing he cares just as much as you do, though he surely wouldn’t say that.

In his own way, this was it.

“Maybe I am bewitching you, one day you’ll fall in love with me.” He snorts, rolling all four eyes, shocking you when he has you flipped on your back, breathless.

“You wish, brat. Keep dreaming.”

*****

“Sukuna, you cannot leave me again. Please.” You’re pleading two weeks later, as he tells you he must leave for a few days again. “Take me with you, or send your damn armies.”

“A King must stand with them, you have me be a stupid bunny like you?”

“Stupid bunny!?” You use your energy then, crashing everything off the giant table with a clatter, earning his grin.

“You’re sexy when you’re using your flimsy little fucking powers.”

“Oh fuck you!” You stomp off then, but he’s got you in his arms before you can leave, holding you tightly. “Stop it. I’m angry.”

“You’re always angry, bunny really thinks she’s not just prey.” You shove at him now, knocking him back, only making him grin wider.

“Take me with you, please. I can help.” You see it then, the emotions in his gaze, he shakes his head at you. “You think I'm incapable?”

“Not at all, fuck you’re more capable than most of the dumb boys that fight for me.”

“Then why not?”

“Because I need you safe.” His roaring voice echoes in the dining hall now, he cups your face with rough hands. “I have to make sure you’re here, where I know no one can touch you.”

“I don’t want to be without you.” You feel tears streaming down your cheeks now, he swipes at them, the gnawing in his heart and soul growing with every moment he spends with you, with every look you give him. He can’t take it, all that he feels for you, building and building. “I feel sick.”

You rush out then, and he sighs, watching your retreating form when Uraume walks up. “Could you check on her? She’s angry again, little brat.”

Uraume nods, smiling just a bit, and soon finds you, throwing up. They blink in concern, coming up to you then, holding your hair, as you whimper miserably. “Has something upset your stomach, my Queen?”

“I didn’t even eat or drink, he’s got me s-so angry, Uraume. He doesn’t think I can help…” You’re sick again, and Sukuna is standing by your door, watching in concern as Uraume rubs your back.

“Something is wrong, when was your last monthly?” You blink then, rapidly, leaning on your knees, eyes catching Sukuna’s at the door.

“I haven’t had one since I’ve been here.” You touch your tummy then, smiling, and you see it, not a smirk or sadistic grin, it’s a beautiful smile from Ryomen Sukuna. “I am with child?”

“I’ll have the royal doctor examine you tomorrow. My King, perhaps we can put off the journey for a few days?” They ask, as they’re helping you clean up, you’re cleaning your teeth, even the water you drink after making your tummy hurt.

“For a few days then. Leave us for a moment, please.” Soon Sukuna picks you up carefully, in his arms, cradling you to his chest. Your arms wrap his neck, as you caress his face, so much unspoken between you both, you just study each other, breathless. “You’re carrying my heir?”

“I hope so, Kuna.” You admit, while he sits on the bed, still holding you across his massive lap with two arms, the others, brushing back your hair. “I want to have many heirs for you, I promise I will be a good mother, and a good queen.”

“I already know that, foolish girl. God help me if they’re stubborn like you.” Your eyes narrow, earning his laughter.

“I hope it will be a son for you.”

Sukuna hopes it’s a girl, one just like you, but he doesn’t say that, he shouldn’t say that, he’s a King after all, he needs male heirs. But as one hand rests on your still flat tummy, he pictures it, many children with you, emotions making his heart race faster and faster.

“You cannot come if you are, you know this, don’t be so stubborn.” You sigh, looking up at him.

“I know that. I can’t risk something happening.”

“Finally you see reason, pregnancy becomes you. Don’t glare at me, brat, come on now.” He pulls you against him you rest your head on his chest, nausea easing then as his energy consumes you both, surrounding you. “This baby, with both of our powers, will be a menace.”

“He will be sweet like me, thank you.” Sukuna smirks.

“We’ll see.”

*****

After confirming you were indeed pregnant, Sukuna put his journey off a few days, and he surprises you even when he’s gone, he has an entire nursery made by his servants, it makes no sense to this early but he’s so sure about it. All of his concubines also have disappeared, you’re not really sure where they went, and the servants pamper you.

But you miss him. When he does return weeks later, you’re curled up in his throne asleep, breaking his heart, he’s covered in grime and sweat from his trek, you look so fragile and tiny to him. He’s been consumed again by dreams of you, of fears of something happening to you, to the baby, so to see you so peaceful allows him to breathe for just a moment.

Sukuna gets down on one knee, kneeling for his sleeping queen, so beautiful in front of him, caressing your face carefully, brushing your hair off it where it’s fallen. You snuggle against his big hand, brows together, he notices your hand is on your tummy over your robes, he places his other hand there as you’re mumbling then.

“Kuna… miss you… love you…” You’re babbling, head shifting, your brows knitting together, and he exhales, leaning close, the words that have been stirring since he met you ready to spill.

“I love you, bunny. Infuriating, annoying, silly, stubborn brat.” His whisper is so quiet, and you’re still asleep, he exhales in relief that you don’t hear him yet, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You make me so foolish.”

You come to then, seeing him and your eyes widening, before they glimmer in tears and you smile so big at him. “You’re home!”

Home, the castle never really felt like a home until you, did it?

“I’m here, why are you sleeping on my throne?” He demands, you blush then in the night, shifting to sit up, looking into his glinting ruby eyes.

“I feel so close to you here.” You admit softly.

“I need to bathe, you’ll wash me hmm?”

“Yes, Kuna.”

You’re both in the onsen, it reminds you of the first time you were taken by him, memories in every bit of the steamy room, as you start cleaning him, sitting on the edge, your legs draped in the water. You frown as you find new scars have formed, although he heals quickly, these must have been deep. You tense as you trail your washcloth across his shoulders.

“They’re just scratches, bunny. Calm down.” He says, feeling it, your worry behind him. He can feel every bit of you, even when he’s gone, he turns then, seeing your beautiful body, smiling as he sees a little roundness of your tummy. “Look at you… this body, fuck…”

“It’s showing a little.” You smile, touching it now, Sukuna leans down, pressing a kiss against it, your hands stroking his hair, feeling it slick under your fingers.

“I need you, bunny. Now.” He tugs you in the water now, you gasp as he pulls you against him, tongue on his stomach thick and wet as it laps at you between your thighs. Your head falls back for his brutal kisses, his rough bites. “Your marks have faded, need new ones huh?”

“Need them everywhere, Kuna.” Sukuna realizes you didn’t hear him earlier, because you would have been boasting about his confession if you did, but you still seem to just know, infuriating in your ability to assess him completely. “What is it, my King?”

He’s looking at you this certain way, opening and closing his lips, you wonder then what he wants to say, but holds back. Your heart is racing as you cling to him, but he kisses you instead, muffling your cries while his tongue works your cunt over and over, sliding inside you, preparing you for him.

“Miss your taste.” He huffs, lips parted, little droplets falling from his lashes. “Missed your annoyance.”

“You missed me, hmm?” You’re grinning, he’s scowling, it’s what you both seem to do, but you love it, love when you’re stretched by his cock and pressed against the wall of the bath, water undulating around you.

“Do you ever shut up?” Your giggles turn into cries soon of pleasure, as his cock drags on your walls, and she’s tightening around him.

“Kiss me.” He does as you demand, desperate and hungry, four arms taking over every bit of your body as he destroys your mind, biting your lips until they’re swollen, sinking deeper into your welcoming cavern, so warm and wet for him.

“I love you, brat.” You gasp now, blinking rapidly as you stare at him. “I won’t say this nonsense again, got it?”

“You love me!? Ah!” Sukuna shoves his cock hard in you now, you’re trying to register his words, as he fucks all sense out of your mind.

“I’ll not repeat it. You know it, yes brat?” He cups your face, gripping your chin, as your heart races, you’re trying to form a coherent word, wondering if you’re dreaming. “Your King asked you a question.”

“You l-love me?”

“Tch.” He pulls out of you, making you whine. “You’re too cock drunk to focus, aren’t you? I said I’ll not repeat myself.”

“You love me too?” You’re laid down on the towels once more, he’s hovering over you with two arms, the others gripping your face.

“Yes, you’ve cast whatever spell, evil bunny. Do you know now?” You’re sobbing, but you’re smiling, confusing the shit out of him. “Are you sad or happy, fuck!?”

“So happy, so happy. I love you and our baby so much, my King.” He rolls his eyes, scoffing, but your words melt him.

“Enough of that. Now.” He sinks back inside your cunt, moaning as he feels your wet heat after weeks of not having it. “Need to feel you cumming for me.”

*****

Your arranged marriage with Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, was by far and away the best thing that happened to you. You’ve already had your first child now, a son named after his father, but Sukuna is determined to have more and more of them. When you feel insecure, he scoffs and demands you stop, before his tongues and hands worship your body.

He doesn’t profess his feelings too often, but sometimes when he thinks you’re sleeping, he’ll caress your cheek and whisper ‘I love you, bunny’ thinking you don’t hear him. And every so often when he cums, he cries out in your ear just so, you hear some jumbled ‘fucking love you’ before he catches himself.

He was still a force to be entranced by anyone, but he is soft with his wife, you, his Queen, he’s soft with his son, when he thinks no one sees. Sukuna is a conundrum, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to his duality, brutally dominating the world one moment, and the next he’s sweetly kissing your baby’s forehead, or caressing your face softly.

Now, having recovered from having the baby, Sukuna has you on his lap during his meetings with the council often, however this time, your devious husband has his cock inside of you, under your robes. Your cunt is gushing all around him as you try to maintain your composure, and he’s delighting in it, laugh soft in your ear, tickling you as you throb.

“Stay still now bunny, they’ll know what a slut their Queen is for her King’s cocks, hmm?” He taunts, you glare at him, only serving to make him jerk his hips up just so, your eyes roll back in your skull, being stretched like this on him.

“Y-you’re the worst, K-Kuna.” You whisper back, he chuckles again, two of those huge tattooed hands pressing your hips down, stuffing his full length inside you, his tip drooling against your cervix.

“I’ll put two babies in your womb this time. Need twins.” His words end you, the council are speaking now, and you’re trying so hard not to scream out, his other cock his pressing against your clit, you’re gushing down his muscled thighs, his veiny length, feeling so fucking good you can’t take it.

“Your Majesty, we-”

“No, I’m busy.” Sukuna fucking flings his subjects, you’d normally get on him about his antics, but you can’t speak when his cock is buried so deep. He rests his chin on one hand lazily, as the other people speak, and he keeps you still, warming his cock as the other drizzles precum on your belly.

“Kuna, please…” You whisper now, and he feels you tightening, scowling up as you make him sensitive.

“You brat, you mean to tease me?” You bat your lashes innocently.

“No, my King.”

“Keep going and they’ll have their next heir right here.” He hisses, serving to make your heart race, your cunt dripping all over, he sinks a hand under your robes, his tongue from his hand lapping it up, as you bite your lip, stifling your cries. “Want them to watch me fuck another in you?”

“N-no, sadistic ass.” He glares right back, someone is saying something, but the two of you are too consumed in each other to notice.

“Stay still, brat, and I’ll let you ride me right here when we’re done, if you don’t I won’t wait, you’ll have a royal audience.”

You make it through the meeting, just barely, and soon he’s got your robes parted, and you’re straddling him on his throne, taking both of his cocks, riding him, your hands braced on his strong shoulders. He’s sucking on your nipples as your breasts bounce in his face, letting you control the pace, letting you ride him, he won’t tell you but he loves it when you do.

“Going to keep you pregnant, brat.” He huffs, wrecking you with his words, you swear you hear an I love you when he’s cumming so deep, but you let him think you don’t.

“Love you, Kuna.” You murmur, it makes him melt, but he just glares.

“You can still talk, huh bunny? Need to fix that.”If Sukuna is a little softer these days, he has only his very bratty bride to blame, you.

A/N- aww this was so fun, I loved writing this fun little mini series here. It was fluffy and filthy and I enjoyed making Sukuna soft, idk idk lol!. Ty for the love on this little thing!? Ya'll I'm hooked on Sukuna fr lol (already wrote modern Sukuna nowww) so plenty more to come.

Taglist (Rest will go in repost!) - @mistygrovesarchive @mima0127 @janrcrosssing @thejujvtsupost @clp-84 @makingtimemine @silvarys @after-laughter-come-tears @yenayaps @vantedaes @liivzen @just-lilita @jdevilmadness @lixern @spaceeyhem @thisisew @bozos-r-us @slootbear @pamemoonlight @xxyaoi-nationxx @jschlattsgff @alessdramawouldbenice @sukunasfavgroupie @1emma1 @nanamjai @1-800-blues-clues   @watashiwasohidesu @vynwan-cbq  @mouseyboo @imbacklovie @cyberket @chuuminn @diannana @hanham10 @arilxup88 @suna-is-my-one-and-only @yv-ania @urgirlraven @sillymortalblob @nana-thee-galaxy-g1rl @jiahu

[call-memissbrightside]

All I can think about is Katsuki dating someone with a baby—

His friends think it’s a bit odd since he’s in his early thirties and could still mess around before settling down but he’s not having it

You’re a bit nervous to tell him that you had a kid after a few dates, and you think he’s never going to hit you up again when he doesn’t really respond when you tell him, he just drops you off at your place with a emotionless look on his face.

You cry to yourself that night as you put your little girl to bed, and the two year old knows something’s wrong because she’s fussy through the whole night routine. You really liked Bakugou, he made you laugh and respect you but if he can’t accept your daughter than it's not going to work out.

Then the next morning he texts you that he got tickets for three to the local aquarium for the day. You call him, confused.

“That way we can take your daughter?” He’s confused by your question. “Why? Is she too little for the aquarium?”

You’re nervous as hell for him meeting Mai for the first time, but Katsuki is taken back at how your daughter looks just like you. She's adorable, and his stomach flipped taking in how you looked so beautiful in your jeans and simple shirt.

"Hi Mai, I'm Katsuki," He kneels down to the four year old's height but he's so big and the little girl immedietly burst into tears and hides behind your legs.

"Oh honey, it's okay," You coo at her, picking her up. Mai isn't convinced and hides away from Katsuki.

"I'm sorry, she'll warm up," You explain, but you weren't too sure. Mai had a shy personality, and was very attatched to you. You just hoped that Bakugou would be patient with her.

Mai started shedding her shy personality once you arrived at the aquarium.

"Mom, fish!" She yelled in excitement, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster. Katsuki stands back and just watches you interact with your daughter. He knew he liked you, but seeing you be a mom did something to him and he imagined this being his life forever.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked when you noticed Katsuki seemed distracted.

He opens his mouth to answer but Mai interupts him when she squeals, "Mommy penguins!"

Katsuki was closer to her, and the little girl grabs his hand and drags him through to the penguin exhibit. Bakugou is taken aback, but quickly pushes back his fear of scaring her and kneels down to look at the penguins swimming as Mai squeals in excitement. She can’t pronounce his name correctly, so Mai just addresses him as ‘Suki which warms his heart.

It’s like a switch got flipped and Mai wouldn’t let go of Katsuki’s hand for the remainder of the tour through the aquarium. You stand back, smiling and snapping pictures, just watching as Bakugou showed a much softer side to him.

The day ended with Katsuki buying Mai the biggest stuffed penguin the aquarium store had, and the little girl could barely hold onto it as she fell asleep in her stroller.

“You didn’t have to get her that,” You said, feeling overwhelmed by his gesture.

Bakugou feels a string of anxiety pull in his stomach, wondering now if his actions were seemed as inappropriate.

“I-,” He tries to be truthful, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Mai just seemed so happy and I wanted to get her something to remember me by.”

That melts your heart, and you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for being so sweet to my baby.”

Katsuki is blushing so hard, his ears are ringing as he helps you by packing down the stroller and putting it in the trunk while you tuck Mai into her car seat. The little girl was out, but still hugging her penguin.

Katsuki keeps the radio low as to not wake Mai as he drives you two home, holding your hand and already planning the next outing.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: You're not sure what to get Javi for Christmas, until he gives you an idea for a gift you can't put under the tree

Word Count: 3.3K (I wrote this in two hours, the thots do be thotin)

Paring: Husband!Javi x Wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex (whoops), breeding kink (I'll say it once and I'll say it again, you KNOW this man deserves 17 kids) vaginal fingering, creampie (big time), family planning, Javi gets so excited about the idea of another baby he literally can't control himself, terrible, sexual Christmas puns, cute and sweet Christmas fluff bc I love this family more than life and you know they give their kids the most magical Christmases 🥺

A/N: I'll take Javier Peña with a big fat breeding kink for a thousand, please!!! I was feeling in a writing rut, until I read @notjustjavierpena Husband Javi Christmas fic last night, and lord have MERCY, consider me inspired 🫡 I'll never shut up about the fact that this man wants a football team, and every Christmas will ask to put another baby in you as his only Christmas gift BYEEEEEEE I need to be institutionalized at this point sorry this is poorly beta'd, it's me, I'm allergic to editing!!!

Forever and Always Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Javier Peña, there has to be something you want for Christmas.” 

“As long as all my girls are happy, that’s all I want.” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t wrap your sappy sentiment, Javi.” 

There was nothing more that you enjoyed than showering Javi with gifts for the holidays. There were few people on earth you could imagine being more deserving than your husband- you’d find a way to wrap the moon and top it with a bow, if that’s what he wanted. Unfortunately for you, Javi was so sweet, it made buying gifts for him nearly impossible, considering there was rarely ever a tangible item on his wishlist. 

“I don’t need anything, baby.” Javi smiled, reaching for the roll of bright pink and sparkly wrapping paper in front of him to start covering the new Barbie Dream House Lucy had been begging for all year long. “Toss me the tape.” 

“Well obviously I have things for you, but I always wanna make sure I’m getting you things that you want.” You sighed, gently throwing the roll of Scotch tape you had been using over the pile of gifts between you and Javi you were working on wrapping while your daughters were asleep. 

After six Christmases under your belts, you and Javi had learned from the one grave mistake of waiting until Christmas Eve to wrap all your daughter’s presents, now taking a few nights before the big day to wrap and assemble any gifts being left under the tree for your own sanity. 

Now that your girls, Lucy, Elliot and Harper, were six, four and two, it made Christmas even more magical, knowing that they were beginning to understand the concept of what the holiday meant, and all the joyous anticipation that led up to the 25th of December. 

It also meant that there were a lot more presents to wrap- 1, because Lucy and Elliot knew that they could ask for gifts they wanted, and 2, because Javi would say he’d be done buying presents and then show up the next day after work with another toy for his girls. 

“Honey, you get great gifts, for me, but especially for the girls, too. Fuck, I forgot this needs batteries…” Javi mumbled to himself, carefully undoing the wrapping paper he had started working on, “You make a very good Santa.” 

“I think the girls like your version of Santa better, since that’s how they end up with double the gifts under the tree.” You giggled, playfully rolling your eyes at Javi before reaching for the next toy in the pile, “I’m being serious, Javi. I love spoiling those girls just as much as you, but you also deserve to be spoiled too, ya know.” 

“You’re my wife, gave me three beautiful daughters, and tolerate me on a daily basis. Baby, that’s plenty fucking spoiled, if you ask me.” Javi grinned, giving you a reassuring nod and little shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re much more than tolerable, you goof.” You laughed, cheeks pink at the warmth of your husband’s words, never failing to make you melt a little more each day. “Will you please just tell me one thing you want? Then I’ll let it go, I promise.” 

Javi sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with the edges of the wrapping paper he was working on before a boyish smile began to creep into the corners of his cheeks. 

“Uh oh.” You laughed to yourself, immediately recognizing the goofy grin Javi was trying to contain, “What is it, Peña?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.” Javi snickered to himself, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Jav, if it’s another dog, I told you, when the girls are older and-” 

“No, it’s not another dog.” He smirked, still softly laughing to himself as you tilted your head at him in confusion, trying to piece together what kind of gift Javi would want that would take any convincing from you, crossing your arms over your chest as you attempted to decipher the devious splayed across his face. 

It only took about two seconds and that look to figure out what Javi was in the market for.  

“Javi…” You sighed, your tone jokingly stern. 

“Osita?” He responded back, trying to downplay his giddiness now that you had figured out his gift suggestion. 

“Javi, four kids is a lot of kids. One more, and they’re doubling us in ranks.” 

You had always been on the fence about having a fourth baby. Not because you didn’t love having kids, or that you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it, mentally or financially, but because your brain worked in logistics- adding one more member to your family was getting you to the point where you’d have so many kids, you wouldn’t even all fit in Javi’s truck anymore, unless someone got demoted to the trunk, which, in all honesty, you were sure Elliot wouldn’t mind. 

For Javi, on the other hand, there was no need to worry about logistics- the two of you would figure it out sooner or later. The only logistics he was worried about was instigating the baby making process.  

“You asked what I wanted!” Javi replied, chuckling as he held his hands up in defense, “I think I’ve been a very good boy all year, if you ask me.” 

“What you’re asking for is definitely putting you on the naughty list.” You huffed, trying to distract yourself with finishing wrapping the present you were working on to hide the fact you were genuinely considering Javi’s present suggestion. “You really think we can handle four kids, Jav?” 

It took everything in you not to laugh at the way Javi instantly perked up when your first response to his gift idea wasn’t rejection, eyeing you up and down and gently biting down on his lower lip. 

“Mhmmm.” He nodded, slowly making his way around the pile of presents to scooch closer to you, “I’ll take care of everything, mi amor. You, the girls, the baby, I can ask for less hours at work so I can help around here, whatever you want, you know I’ll give it to you.” 

“You really want this baby, huh?” You giggled, smirking at Javi as he crawled next to you, hungry look in his eyes while he began to cage his body over yours, carefully laying you down on the floor beneath him. 

“Fuck, I wanna knock you up again so bad. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Javi groaned, planking overtop you, his hot breath dancing across your skin in between his soft nips at your pulse point. “Let me fuck another baby into you, Osita. Please.” 

Any inhibitions you would have had in protest had completely flown out the window, arousal soaking the fabric of your underwear as Javi kissed up your neck and across your collarbone, softly palming at your breasts under one of his old sweatshirts you had thrown on. 

Truth be told, you and Javi had talked about baby number four enough that you were already leaning towards saying 'yes' anyways, but that wouldn’t stop you from having a little fun in seeing how badly Javi really wanted the Christmas gift he was asking you for. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, Javi. Tell me how much you wanna fuck another baby into me.” You devilishly whispered into his ear, smiling to yourself at the pathetic groan that rumbled from his chest in response. 

“Fuck me-” Javi moaned, hands feverishly groping your body, “Fuck, I want it so bad, quierda. Wanna fill you up ‘till it has no choice but to fucking take, fuck this pussy so full of me, let everyone know who it belongs to, watching you carry our baby. Please, Osita.” 

It was a good thing you were already prepared to be easily swayed, because even if you weren’t, listening to the way Javi was begging to put another baby in you would have easily been enough. 

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Papí.” 

Your green light was all Javi needed to spark something completely feral in him, practically ripping your clothes off you in the middle of the living room, sprawled out on the carpet. 

“Javi, we can go upstairs and-” 

“No. Fuck, I need to fuck you right now, just like this.” He grunted, shedding his clothes before his hand was cupping over your underwear, jaw going slack at how absolutely soaked the fabric was under the pads of his fingers. “Apparently you do too, huh, Momma? She’s so wet for me, isn’t she? Pretty pussy wants me to fill her up so bad.” 

Your stomach churned in arousal as Javi ripped your panties down your legs, revealing the puffy, glistening mess beneath. Javi had barely touched you, and you could already feel the way you’re dripping, admittedly just as turned on as him at the idea of letting him add another addition to your family. 

“Christ, baby.” Javi muttered, settling between your legs. Letting his hands run up the insides of your thighs, he took his thumbs and slid them between your folds, spreading you open to get a full view of the way your slick was coating your cunt. “Making a fucking mess for me already.” 

“I think I’m ovulating soon.” You sigh, doing some quick math in your head, trying to account for just how worked up you were, Javi’s eyes so going wide at the realization, you were worried they may just pop out of his skull. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Javi groaned, shaking his head in disbelief at his luck, “You’re right, Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me then.” 

Swirling the pads of his fingers against your clit, your back arched against the floor at the shockwaves the pleasure sent through your body, making you gasp so loud, you were worried you risked a real possibility of waking up your daughters. 

“F-Fuck, Javi-” You whimpered, already bucking your bottom half towards him as he sunk his two fingers into your cunt while the heel of his palm rubbed deliciously against your clit. Reaching up, your grasp wrapped around Javi’s bicep, muscles flexing with each pulse of his fingers as you left half-crescent moons in his skin. 

It took everything in you not to scream as a third finger joined the first two, stretching you out as he bumped against your g-spot, tension already beginning to build in your core. A sudden gasp escaped your chest, surprised by the newfound emptiness that had you clenching around nothing, looking up to see Javi reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I need to fucking feel you, baby. Swear you’ve got me feeling like I’m about to bust like a fucking teenager.” Javi grunted, running his tip against your clit and down your cunt, collecting your arousal before thrusting himself inside you, filling you to the brim with every inch of him. 

Unless you were desperately pressed for time, Javi normally had a bare bones minimum of pulling at least one orgasm out of you before he fucked you, but seeing how worked up and needy he was to feel you wrapped around him, it was about as close to an orgasm you could get withtout actually having one. 

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you whined, feeling the tip of his head kiss your cervix as he began to thrust in and out of you, feeling dizzy from his fullness. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together, his hips slamming into you in deep, slow thrusts, breath hitching in the back of your throat every time he buries himself deeper inside you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill her up, give you every last fucking drop. Taking me so fucking well.” Javi moaned through gritted teeth, already scrunching his face in concentration through his pussy drunk babbling.  

Running his hands up the back of your thighs, Javi pushed your knees to your chest, pinning your legs in place against your stomach to stretch you out even further, letting him sink himself even deeper to hit the spot he knew drove you just as crazy as it drove him. 

Despite how lost in pleasure the two of you were, Javi was at least conscious enough to realize how loud you had gotten, quickly reaching up cup your mouth, catching your muffled moans in the palm of his hand. 

“I know, hermosa. Fuck, I love hearing you, but we gotta keep quiet enough, baby.” Javi huffed, snaking the hand covering your mouth between your bodies, circling at your clit, almost as if he was putting you through some sort of cruel test to see how far he could push you before he had you screaming at the top of your lungs. 

“Fuck- fuck, I know. You feel so good, Javi.” You whined, hand pressed against his bare chest, his warmth and weight pinning your body below him. 

You feel the way Javi’s thrusts become quicker and harsher, filling himself as deep as he could as your cunt began to clench around his length, sucking him in with your warmth and wetness. Your eyes had been scrunched, so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t even noticed the nearly pained look on Javi’s face, furrowing his brow in deep concentration with each slap of his hips against yours. 

“You okay, Javi?” You asked, panting out each word as he pounded into you, circling your clit faster and faster as his grip tightened around your thighs, trying to keep himself grounded. 

“Yeah, I- Fuck- fuck me, I’m trying so hard not to finish before you do. Pussy feels so fucking good. Wanna cum so fucking deep inside you.” Javi moaned, the rhythm of his hips already starting to falter thinking about his endgame. 

If you weren’t so lost in your own ecstasy, you probably would have giggled at Javi’s admission, giving him shit about how he couldn’t hold it together for even just a few minutes, knowing he could finally try to get you pregnant again. But right now, you’re just shocked you can even get any words to form coherent thoughts to string together, let alone tease him. 

“Put a baby in me, Javi. Fuck, want you to cum so deep inside me, please, baby.” 

You could barely finish the whimpers of your sentence before Javi’s pace became sloppy and erratic, hips stuttering before his jaw went slack, letting a low, long groan escape from his chest. 

“Oh, f-fuck-” Javi stammered, flushing his hips against yours as you felt his warm spend coat your walls, pressed so deep inside you, you were convinced it’d have no choice but to stick, in a few weeks finding out baby number four would be on the way. 

Javi’s chest rose and fell, looking down at the way your bodies melted together beneath him, igniting something primal in him to see the mix of your arousal seeping around where the two of you met. His eyes darkened, looking down at you with a feral sort of smirk, not even giving you the chance to speak before his lips were crashing into yours again, hips slowly thrusting while his fingers rubbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“J-Javi, what are you-” You muttered, cut off by the messy dancing of tongues and teeth in your mouths. 

“I’m not done yet, Momma. Not until I fuck myself so deep in there we know it fucking takes. Wanna keep you stuffed so fucking full of me.” Javi grunted, rubbing your clit faster at the way he could feel the walls of your pussy starting to flutter around him, determined to make sure he wasn’t the only one who finished. “Cum for me, baby. I know you’re close. Can feel how tight she’s getting for me.” 

You knew just as well as he did that the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine had slowly begun to flow to every inch of your body, building up through your legs and into your core, clenching down harder and harder around Javi’s cock, knowing there was no doubt the mess between your legs was surley just as wet as it sounded as he slid in and out of you. 

“Oh fuck, Javi, oh fuck- fuck, fuckfuckfuck- ah!” 

It didn't take long before your orgasm crashed through you, lighting up every inch of you in radiating pleasure, your cunt clamping down so hard around Javi’s cock, it made him let out a strangled gasp as he choked out curses under his breath. 

“Jesus, fuck. Gonna squeeze every last fucking drop outta me, huh? My greedy fuckin’ girl.” Javi smirked, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he slumped on top of you, your chests rising and falling as one as you finished coming down from your high. 

The two of you laid there for a moment, catching your breaths and basking in bliss before Javi was pulling out of you with a hiss, one hand wrapped around his softening cock, the other scooping up the mix of your spend pooling between your legs before it dripped to the floor, carefully pushing it back inside you. 

“Fuck,” Javi laughed to himself quietly, sitting back on his haunches, admiring the slick, shiny mess your pussy had become, “Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.” 

“Looks like Christmas came early this year… and so did you.” You giggled, making Javi roll his eyes, playfully shaking one of the legs still pressed to your chest. 

“Shut up.” He sighed, shaking his head at you before laying back down beside you, shifting so that his chest was pressed to your back, spooning you in his grasp. “Gotta make sure Santa’s not the only thing coming down the chimney this year.” 

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You can’t help but snort, ashamed of how easily amused you are by his stupid puns. 

“What? You let me get my gift early, least I can do is stuff your stocking for you.” 

“Oh my god, you are the worst.” 

The two of you giggled, basking in your laughter as you laid together on the floor, only spurred on by the fact you realized how ridiculous it was that the two of you were completely naked in the middle of your living room, surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper and presents. 

“Speaking of stocking stuffers, we should finish wrapping the rest of these gifts we have out before we go to bed. At least some of these presents should be wrapped, because the one you just gave me was most definitely not.” You teased, craning your neck to pepper ticklish kisses across Javi’s jaw. 

“It’s the gift that keeps on giving. I’ll give it to you tomorrow too, if you let me.” Javi grinned, giving you a playful wink before pressing a kiss into your messy hair and patting your hip, reaching over you to grab the pile of clothes the two of you had left next to you. “Seriously though, thank you. You and our girls are the best gift I could ever have, but adding one more would make me so fucking happy. I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Javi. You guys are the best gift I could ask for, too. Although, I will say, your gift also selfishly works in my favor, too. Some presents are just better unwrapped.”

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