#even his internal voice is dramatic
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deadn30n · 2 months ago
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🌿、· ⋆ 。 starter call ╏ @venstm
Shen   Qingqiu   sits   precariously   on   his   knees   behind   his   desk.   in   front   of   him   sits   a   freshly   brewed    &&    still   steaming   cup   of   green   tea,   but   he   can't   bring   himself   to   enjoy   it.   today,   he   finds,   is   one   particularly   hot   day   that   has   him   fanning   himself   just   to   ward   off   the   sweat   beading   on   his   forehead.   he   attempts   to   maintain   his   dignified   appearance   the   best   that   he   can,   but   he   knows   that   sooner   or   later…   it's   going   to   crumble.   he   just   hopes   that   no   one   will   see   that,   and   not   especially   his   most   treasured   disciple.   because   he   knows   damn   well   the   minute   he   shows   any   signs   of   discomfort,   Bing   He   will   be   on   top   of   him   like   a   fly   on   shit,   and   for   once   Shen   Qingqiu   really   wants   breathing   room    (    probably   because   it's   so   damn   hot   and   binghe   is   much   too   large   for   his   own   good    ).    i'll   die!   he   thinks   to   himself.   i'll   suffocate   and   overheat   and   die   if   he   touches   me!   he's   too   big!   he   gives   off   too   much   heat!   his   internal   laments   continue   well   into   the   peaceful   afternoon    –    knowing   damn   well   that   Binghe   is   going   to   show   up   at   any   given   moment   because   he   can't   be   away   from   his   precious   Shizun's   side   for   more   than   five   minutes   before   metaphorically   flattening   like   an   anthill   being   stepped   on,   and   crying.
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leatherbookmark · 1 month ago
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The cool thing is that what in others is called "determination" or "not giving up on their hobbies and persevering despite failures", in me is more like "loser repeatedly does Thing despite very much obviously sucking at it, and not even trying newer approaches, just like, writing the same mediocre uninteresting fic over and over again (at no point does it even begin to look better)"
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cosmicheartz · 7 months ago
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Tbh if they ever made a psychonauts 3 I want them to bring back some of the edge pn1 had but have the respectfulness regarding certain things 2 has
#tbh i rlly like 2 but I do miss some of the stuff 1 had to offer#ig I hope my future au kinda hits a mix of 1 and 2#bc while I mainly talk abt the whole fucked up situation involving Clem and Crystal I do have other stuff#like Elka and Nils getting engaged and then on the day of the wedding both get cold feet#and Raz and another character ( probably Lili Franke or Kitty ) have to go in their minds ( Nils for Raz and Elka for Lili/Franke/Kitty )#and Elka realizes she’s been dealing with comphet#and Nils realizes he has a lot of issues related to relationships/intimacy bc of the fact he was exposed to adult stuff as a child#along with toxic masculinity and also probably being Gay or Bi#Nils voice: Raz you gotta help me ungay#uh there’s also some juicy relationship drama involving Kitty Franke and Quentin#and also Phoebe sorta bc I realized her x Quentin would be cute#bi4bi and maybe even t4t#anyways so Kitty and Franke are together in an open relationship#and Kitty and Quentin have a thing going on#and Franke doesn’t exactly vibe with it#smth abt their relationship feels off to her#Phoebe also senses wack vibes too#hmm what else is there#oh yea Chloe’s mentor would be Morris so she helps run KLOB#which results in her doing those intercom speeches she did in pn1#( she doesn’t fully believe she’s an alien anymore she just does it bc it’s fun )#Benny has a villian arc but he’s so bad at it#but his flair for the dramatics/presentation of his villain persona is killer#he just sucks at the actual villain part#Vernon probably starts a podcast or starts writing books#also he’s in the intern program and Adam is his mentor#cosmic chatz
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kurooh · 3 months ago
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DOUBLE FANTASY ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN
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⊹₊˚. featuring threesomes with gojo satoru + geto suguru, nanami kento + higuruma hiromi, shiu kong + fushiguro toji, tsukumo yuki + kamo choso.
warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, threesomes, oral [m&f rec], spit roasting, double penetration, some degradation, choking, rough sex, squirting, sharing a cigarette, spit, clit slaps. | 4.5K words of FILTH
xoxo, juno. comment & rb if you enjoyed <3 !
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GOJO & GETO.
perhaps letting your two roommates take care of you after a messy breakup wasn’t a good idea—or is it? less than an hour ago, you’d come home sobbing, cheeks wet with tears and eyes puffy.
satoru and suguru had pulled you into a tight hug, internally thankful you’d broken things off with that asshole (they’d hated when he would come around) but also sympathetic towards you. it was a tough choice, which was then promptly celebrated over margaritas and shots on the couch. one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were pressed flush against suguru’s strong chest, body sweltering with need hotter than a fire.
“s-sugu, i don’t think you can both fit inside.”
“not with that attitude, sweetheart,” suguru murmurs, hands settling on your hips as he places a small kiss to your cheek. “come now, anything’s possible if you believe in it.”
“bleh, you sound like confucius,” satoru fake gags dramatically, lining his cock up with his best friend’s. their sticky tips prod at your folds, and your heart races faster, rattling around in your ribcage so loudly you can hear it in your ears. although you’re a little nervous, the alcohol you’ve had helps to take the edge away; you impatiently wiggle your hips forward.
“i’m sorry . . ? do you even know who confucius is?” suguru asks incredulously, flicking his bangs to the side with a jerk of his head.
“i’ve seen you read enough of—”
“don’t do this right now,” you plead, voice whiny. “just fuck me already.”
“now, honey. you’ll have plenty of time to slut yourself out for us, don’t you worry.”
“nah, she’s right,” satoru quips, wrapping his hand around their cocks. suguru inhales sharply, unintentionally jerking his hips forward for more. “you ready for us, babe?”
you nod weakly, and the three of you moan in unison as satoru pushes their cocks inside you. it’s slow at first, but the stretch is one that you’ll remember for a lifetime—the burn of being split open on two cocks melts into something euphoric as each inch passes your entrance. satoru groans hungrily, his head falling back. snowy tufts of hair obscure his diamond blue eyes that he tightly squeezes shut, and a huff of breath leaves his lips.
suguru kisses your jaw, fingers trailing along the slopes of your body before finally sweeping over the delicate skin of your throat. you breath hitches when he whispers into your ear: “we’d always hear you begging to be choked harder. don’t you remember that, satoru?”
“hngh, yeah,” he swallows hard at the memory—he and his best friend always heard everything through those paper thin walls. they’d heard your dissatisfaction and vowed to satiate you someday. “and you’d always be going deeper, deeper!”
your cheeks burn with embarrassment. had your roommates really heard everything? how did they face you so easily in the morning after being kept awake each night?
“we’ll give you everything, sweetheart.”
suguru squeezes your throat experimentally, and the corners of his lips lift when you release a moan you’d been holding back for far too long. he and his best friend slowly start to move, rocking their hips into you and developing a smooth tempo.
“both of you are so fucking big,” you mewl, back bowing off of suguru’s chest. they’re filling you up and stretching you out and just as you think it can’t get any better, satoru’s nimble fingers wander to your clit. he curiously toys with it, eyes darkening lustfully once you react how he’d been hoping you would.
“perfect size just for you,” suguru coos, yanking you down by the throat. “satoru, spank her a little.”
he obliges, reading his best friend’s mind easily—a stinging slap lands on your clit, sending prickling shocks of pleasure through your body. the tips of their cocks kiss your cervix, pushing so deep you can’t seem to breathe. satoru gifts your swollen, sensitive clit with slap after slap; the force behind each one only increases until you’re crying freely.
but you’re not begging him to stop, you’re begging him for more.
“god, i always knew you were a fucking slut,” satoru chokes out, pausing to lick some of your slick off his palm. your stomach flips around at the simple action, something hot flashing through you when he closes his eyes momentarily and savors the taste. “finally . . got you to myself.”
then he looks at suguru, who rolls his eyes. “well, for the most part.”
“no need to sound so excited,” he deadpans, huffing beneath you. “as if you’d fuck any better than that damn ex boyfriend.”
satoru scoffs in disbelief, slapping your clit with renewed strength. his hips are still moving, still burying his cock and suguru’s inside you deeper. they’ve got you entirely stuffed—maybe this would be better than some turkey on thanksgiving. your clit throbs with each punishing slap, but your eyes still roll back each time. while they bicker, your oxygen deprived brain spins with arousal and tipsiness. you shudder, going still and barely even managing to warn them of what’s about to happen.
“fuck, i’m gonna—‘m cumming,” you sob, sounding fragile just before you’re about to break. flashes of heat chase their way through you, until they finally explode out of you, in the form of a soaking orgasm. out of patterned habit, satoru’s palm smacks your puffy clit, which only prolongs your intoxicating high further. the intense contractions inadvertently push their cocks a few inches out of you, and your cum splashes on their skin, eliciting pleased groans from them both.
“baby, did you just—”
“she did, satoru,” suguru confirms, biting back a moan.
“i don’t even—i don’t know what happened,” you pant, hissing when someone’s tip bumps against your twitching clit.
“‘s called squirting,” satoru supplies, entranced as he stares at your messy cunt. a mixture of slick and cum coats your inner thighs, and he can’t help but swipe a finger across your skin and then stick it into his mouth. he releases it with a pop, and eyes suguru knowingly.
his voice is now raspy, thick with desire. “let’s make it happen again, sweetheart. we can take turns, of course. but my face comes before satoru’s.”
NANAMI & HIGURUMA.
the smooth oak wood surface of higuruma’s desk is littered with papers hastily swept to the side, and the fabric of your skirt fans out over a few of them. pens and other stationary supplies are forgotten on the floor, along with your now wrinkled blouse.
“h-holy shit—‘romi, right there! just like that.”
“one can only hope that this’ll be enough luck to carry us through the trial,” higuruma grunts, nails digging crescent shaped indents into the fat of your ass. he’s gripping you tightly, chest heaving rapidly as he vigorously fucks his cock deeper.
“ah, hiromi,” nanami huffs, pushing a few stray hairs away from his forehead. they’d escaped their neatly gelled place on his head when the three of you had rushed into higuruma’s office to discuss the final procedures before your trial. “don’t be a downer . . . this is more than lucky. we’ll win, of course.”
you sob, clawing at higuruma’s shoulders. he’d discarded his suit jacket long ago, carefully folded it on one of his bookshelves so as not to ruin the cuffs and smoothness of the fabric. now, he’s rolled the sleeves of his white shirt all the way up to his elbows, and his loosened black tie swings in your face with each of his thrusts.
“wait, hiromi,” your clammy hand pushes against his stomach insistently, “s-slow down, it’s too much, i—”
higuruma looks toward nanami for instruction, and the latter simply pauses stroking his cock. he stands, pushing back the spinning chair he’d been sitting on, and steps toward the edge of the desk. a sheen of sweat covers your forehead and disrupts the smoothness of your makeup, but nanami doesn’t take much pity on you—instead, he lightly slaps your cheek.
“need me to show you too much, angel?” his voice is low and dark, words laced with a throaty rasp that has your pussy squeezing higuruma’s cock. nanami’s eyebrow raises as he pushes your thighs apart to take a look at the mess between them.
“seems to me like she wants you to,” higuruma nods toward your pussy, then loosens his tie and collar further. “after my turn, of course.”
nanami grunts in agreement, settling on the edge of the desk beside your head instead of the chair. the desk creaks weakly from the newly added weight, and for a moment the idea of it collapsing beneath the three of you crosses your mind. higuruma snaps his hips forward, unconsciously licking the sweat away from his upper lip when he starts up.
your hand lamely pushes against his stomach again, but he shakes his head and nanami reacts immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and slamming your hand down on the wood. whimpers leave your lips and the air is punched out of your lungs with each of higuruma’s strong thrusts; he’s so deep you can practically feel him in your chest.
“ken, i need—my clit,” you gasp, back bowing off the desk fruitlessly. your hips twist and jerk away from higuruma’s cock, for fear of being split open. “touch my clit, i need to cum—”
nanami slaps your cheek again, and your eyes roll back at the penalizing sting. “hiromi, you hear that? she wants to cum.” he mocks your words, then turns back to you, hazel eyes burning holes into your own. “and how do good girls ask to cum, baby? certainly not the way you just did.”
“‘m sorry,” you mewl, and higuruma slaps your clit and makes you shudder. “p-please, i wanna cum for you—i’ve been a good girl!”
“hm, hiromi? you think she’s been a good girl?”
you look up at higuruma pleadingly, tears gathered in your lashes and sparkling in the light. you’ve got that blissed out and dumb look on your face, completely at peace with being thrown around and shared between them.
“sluts take it,” he groans, teeth sinking into his lower lip hard. he yanks your body closer, further bullying his cock inside you. “‘nd you’ve been running from me—isn’t that right, babygirl?”
nanami clicks his tongue, and pinches one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he looks down at you nicely, cheeks pink and hair mussed.
“maybe i’ll let you cum when it’s my turn,” he huffs, a small smile playing on his lips when you weakly moan his name as if he’ll give you permission. “for now, you’ll have to beg. now, go on and open wide, baby.”
the moment your lips part, nanami spits onto your tongue; he watches you expectantly and nodding in acceptance when you swallow, drunk on the taste of his peppermint gum.
“that’s right,” higuruma backs him up, looking down his nose at you expectantly. “speak now or forever hold your orgasm, sweetheart.”
TOJI & SHIU.
“so, princess, still up for lunch later?” shiu grunts around a chuckle, passing the lit cigarette to toji. the latter accepts it with a scoff, rolling his jade green eyes as he sticks it between his lips.
“yes,” you and toji answer at the same time, but your voice is muffled on shiu’s cock.
toji gifts your ass with a slap and exhales the smoke, handing the cigarette back to shiu with a glare. his once stagnant hips begin to move again, almost as if he’s rejuvenated from his little smoke break. shiu only laughs, cupping the crown of your head in order to ease his cock further down your throat.
“i’m surprised you’ve got the money for that, toji,” shiu teases, exhaling sharply when the tip of his cock bumps into your uvula and makes you gag. your throat constricts around his length and you let out a muffled whine in reaction to the stretch.
“you crazy or sum’n?” toji snaps, choosing to argue with his best friend while he’s balls deep inside you. his harsh thrusts make your pussy squelch, and shiu’s cum from earlier spills out onto the bedsheets below. “of course i’ve got the fuckin’ money for lunch, but you’re gonna be the one paying, dumbass.”
his fingers find your swollen clit and he pinches it, making you gasp around shiu’s cock. you choke, gagging so hard tears pool in your eyes—shiu strokes your head comfortingly as you pull off his cock, coughing hard.
“you okay, babygirl?” and he looks at toji disapprovingly, but he only continues to fuck you. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix lightly with each thrust, and when he feels like he’s not going deep enough, he lifts your hips to pull you back. “toji, that was mean.”
“mean . . ? shiu, my girl can fuckin’ handle it. ain’t that right, baby?” he looks to you for confirmation, quirking a brow while the scarred corner of his lip curves into a smirk.
this whole mess had started when you’d spent a night in with toji, watching movies and taking shots every now and then. you’d gotten drunk, swaying on your feet and giggling as you’d pointed to the tv screen dazedly.
“oh, toji, look! that guy looks like shiu!”
he could see the resemblance, and grunted, “damn, he does. ugly just like him too.”
“shiu isn’t ugly!” you jumped up drunkenly to defend his best friend’s appearance, waving your arms around dramatically. “he’s very good looking, actually.”
“oh, really? he doesn’t have any muscle, though.”
“toji, don’t be silly,” you laughed at your boyfriend, “‘course he does, it’s just under all those clothes of his. if he took ‘em off, you’d know what i mean!”
“so you got a crush on shiu?” toji asked in disbelief, his cheeks flaring a deeper pink as he took another vodka shot. “aw, i should let him know.”
one thing led to another, and shiu had come over for breakfast. then your little crush had gotten out, and a bet was placed—who could fuck you better? the condition for the loser was then set in place: whoever lost would buy lunch for the three of you without question.
“y-yeah, toji,” you mumble, forehead pressing into shiu’s pelvis weakly. he’d been the first to fuck you, and now it’s toji’s turn with your pussy—you’re sure you won’t walk smoothly ever again.
“can’t hear you,” toji taunts, lifting your hips and yanking you back onto his cock. the new angle forces him deeper, stretching your cunt out even further. “wanna repeat that for me, doll?”
“ngh, f-fuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back. his cock slams into that sweet, sensitive spot that’s deep inside you, and the tears that had been building in your eyes finally pour down your cheeks. the mascara and eye makeup you’d worn for the breakfast smears against shiu’s skin and makes messy tracks down your face. he curiously slips a finger beneath your chin to make you look up at him.
“aw, baby. i really can’t wait to hear who fucked you better . . . my back certainly wasn’t cracking as much as his is.”
“shut it, shiu,” toji groans, savoring the broken moans that freely leave your lips—gasping ah’s and whines that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “hand me the fuckin’ cig.”
shiu obliges, chuckling softly when he notices you pawing around his thighs in search of his cock. you whimper when you finally get his tip back in your mouth (with his guidance), slowly taking him in inch by inch. he groans, tossing his head back when he finally bumps into the back of your throat.
“m-mind if i fuck your mouth, doll face?” he asks, thighs twitching expectantly. a vein in toji’s forehead bulges at the way he steals his pet name for you.
you shake your head shyly, blinking slowly while toji fucks every single thought out of your head. he’s deliberately holding himself back so you’ll go dumb on his cock, unable to scream anything but his name. yes, this is how he’ll show shiu who can fuck—show him that you’re his girl, his doll face.
tendrils of smoke waft over your break before dissipating in the air as if they were never there. you shudder as toji’s fingers reach your clit, rubbing sloppy circles on the sensitive nub even though your hips rear away. you still haven’t recovered from the overstimulation shiu caused with both his tongue and fingers, but that’s okay. he’ll have you cumming on his cock regardless.
with a deep groan, shiu cups the back of your head to keep you steady, and he shoves his hips forward, his cock slamming far down your throat. you gag, but he’s merciless—doesn’t give you more than a second to breathe before he’s at it again, setting a brutal pace that matches toji’s.
“ugh, fuck—want ya to cum on this cock for me, doll,” he groans, starting to slap his fingers against your clit. your legs kick out in reaction, and you hump your hips back against his hand. toji’s fucked you so hard you can’t even feel shiu’s cum dripping out of you anymore; he’s seconds away from replacing it with his own thick load and having you hold it inside you during lunch.
you nod dumbly on shiu’s cock, starting to sob louder as your own orgasm hurtles toward you. the high is absolutely inescapable, and your watery eyes meet shiu’s when you tip your head up. to the best of his abilities, he’s sweetly talking you through it, his words jumbled although you manage to hear a few clearly.
“how ‘bout we all cum together?” he suggests, wiping a stray tear from your face with the pad of his thumb as if he wasn’t the one that caused it.
“whatever, just as long she does first,” toji warns, his husky voice carrying a tenderness that only you can hear. “got that, shiu?”
like a cheshire cat, he smiles in response, sticking the worn down cigarette between his lips. he takes a drag and thrusts as deeply as he can go before holding your head down at his pelvis. you can hear his quiet moan beneath the clapping of skin against skin and all the other noise; his cock shoots ribbons of white down your throat and he shudders when you swallow it all eagerly, looking up at him for more.
toji throbs against your cervix, and he grabs your asscheek in one of his hands to tug and slap at. “‘m gonna cum, shit . . . wouldn’t ever wanna cum outside of this pretty pussy.”
his fingers work your clit until you’re arching your back and crying out, gushing on toji’s cock with no end in sight. wetness sprays against his pelvis and abs, and he groans, fucking you through it.
“such a mess, doll,” he groans, slipping a hand around your throat and pulling you off shiu’s cock. he instead pins you against his muscular chest, looking over your shoulder through hooded eyes at shiu, who hasn’t gone soft yet. “fuckin’ love it, though.”
toji places a few wet kisses to your neck, moving close to your ear. “so, doll face? where’s lunch gonna be? shiu’s treat, of course.”
YUKI & CHOSO.
“c’mon, you don’t really plan to just sit and watch us, do you?” yuki pushes her blonde bangs away from her forehead with an enchanting smile playing on her lips. she playfully tilts her head to the side, eyeing choso and his seated form.
“well, i . . . you said you’d teach me,” he offers lamely, his reddened cheeks only darkening. he catches your eyes on him too and awkwardly crosses his legs, trying to hide the tent in his pants.
when you’d finally had enough of your boyfriend’s ineducable inexperience, you’d decided to bite the bullet and ask your best friend. yuki had been receptive from the start, her eyes gleaming while you’d explained the situation to a willing choso.
“oh, you won’t learn anything from over there,” she laughs, waving him over to the empty space beside her on the bed. “y’know, sex is pretty hands on.”
choso settles beside her, and the bedframe creaks as it accommodates the new weight. his fingers are trembling as they brush over the tender skin of your inner thighs, and his eyes widen when they come close to your dripping pussy. slick is smeared all over your skin and shining in the low light, utterly enticing to the both of them.
yuki spreads your legs further, and you draw in a sharp breath, lower lip slipping between your teeth.
“come closer,” she coos, pointing at your clit with a smirk. “that’s her clit . . . ‘s the secret to the female orgasm, choso. go on, give her a lick.”
without question, choso adjusts himself so he’s on his stomach, and he experimentally licks your clit. his silky tongue is flexed and nervous, dipping down further to taste the wetness trickling from your slit.
“f-fuck, choso,” you cry, insides lurching deliciously at the feeling. one look at yuki—her cheeks are colored pink, tongue unconsciously darting out occasionally to sweep over her lower lip—and another at choso, whose movements are gradually becoming more insistent, has a sweltering heat coiling deep in your stomach.
your hips jerk forward, pelvic bone nearly nailing him in the bridge of his nose, and choso’s head rears back in concern. “‘m sorry, are you—”
“our girl’s loving it,” yuki hisses, not even missing a beat as she cups the crown of his head, manicured nails digging into your boyfriend’s scalp as she forces his head back down. he doesn’t resist, letting out a muffled moan when his face lands directly in your pussy. slick smears across the lower half of his face and he feels the saliva pool on his tongue from how hungry he is.
choso’s nose bumps into your swollen clit, and a pitched whine tears from your throat. “need—i need more, please,” yuki settles onto her stomach beside choso, palm leaving his head. her fingers impatiently push past his chin, stroking lightly against your dripping pussy, and she quietly moans in delight.
you watch slack jawed as yuki pushes her fingers into her mouth, and her eyes squeeze shut. her hips grind against the bed, sheets rustling softly beneath her body. choso’s too caught up to notice, dark strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
“cho—ah, shit—use your fingers, baby.”
your boyfriend obliges obediently, carefully pushing his fingers inside you and tugging back to let yuki take over with her mouth.
that heat inside you ignites into an inferno the second her mouth finds your clit. her lips lightly wrap around it and her tongue sweeps over the swollen bud; to tease you a little further, she lets her teeth occasionally nibble at it.
“this what you wanted?” choso pants, voice lilting curiously as his eyes rake over your body. he’s always been rather shameless when it comes to looking you over, but after this, he’ll finally be able to back it up with a hundred percent. the heave of your chest and parting of your bitten lips is enough of an answer, but he wants to hear it from you. his fingers curl inside you, pressing into a spot that scratches the unbearable itch in your brain perfectly.
“y-yes, cho!” and you’ve got stars in your eyes, feeling an unfamiliar pressure straining in your lower abdomen. “wanna—wanna cum on your face, please.”
“you heard her,” yuki quirks a brow, thumb working your clit in place of her tongue. she’s got a wildness in her eyes, with the lower half of her face sticky like choso’s. “let’s make our pretty girl cum together, hm?”
choso flushes all the way to his neck but nods, his two fingers pushing deeply over and over. a small sting accommodates the stretch, but is quickly forgotten when their faces push against one another’s in their rush for a taste. your slick is sweet like ambrosia, and they’re far too greedy to take turns with your cunt.
your clammy fingers push into yuki’s flowing tresses, while your other hand cups the crown of choso’s head and pushes him impossibly closer. her moans are softer than his as she finds your clit again, licking desperately, almost as if she’s begging you to cum.
meanwhile, choso places a hand above your pelvic bone, palm pressing into the soft skin—you’d mentioned that fingering wasn’t fingering without that small detail and he hasn’t forgotten it since—and it’s becoming difficult to breathe without panting. whiny moans fill the spaces in between your babbled words of bliss, and yuki knows that she won’t be able to get enough of you once this is over.
“ooh, fuck,” you sob, nearly choking on your words when your back uncontrollably arches off the bed. your fingers tighten in her hair and your nails scratch against choso’s scalp, making a mess of his once neatly tied buns. “yuki, ‘m so close, can’t hold it—”
she’d known what had been coming the moment you’d asked for choso’s fingers. she’s unable to stop herself from smiling against your clit, and choso’s tongue bumps into her own as he fights for a piece of you too. he’d initially been all for this so he could learn how to make you tick, what you really meant when you’d beg for his mouth.
his skin is hot as it pushes against hers, their cheeks puffing up a little as they fight for dominance over your clit. they’re shaking their heads all too much, and choso’s grunting while yuki does too, sending vibrations through your already sensitive clit. that pressure burns through your body, and your legs begin to tremble on either side of them as it grows more intense.
“hmph—cum for us, pretty girl.”
similarly, choso tugs away for a moment and lets out a huff, pressing down hard while his fingertips push into your sweet spot, “let us taste it, baby.”
their simple words do the trick, and with a gasp, your pussy begins to gush waterfalls right onto their faces. yuki eagerly slurps up the slick and cum from your cunt, with no regard for the way it’s still fluttering sensitively. choso barely gets a taste, only getting the tip of his tongue wet, and he pulls back with an annoyed scoff.
“yuki, that’s—”
“y-yuki!” you interrupt, voice breaking as you pathetically try to writhe away from her. with choso sitting back, she’s able to grab you by the hips and drag you close, insistently licking you through the dizzying high. “‘s too much, wait—choso!”
“yuki,” he scolds with a shake of his head, but makes no move to pull her away. honestly, if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to. “that’s no fair, i didn’t even get a taste. and she’s my girl.” choso’s words are pointed and a little whiny, and yuki just rolls her eyes.
“then come here ‘n try again. just look at her, she’s dying for more . . aren’t ya, pretty?”
7K notes · View notes
solxamber · 2 months ago
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Imagine having mc take care of dorm leaders that turned into animals like riddle a hedgehog, leona a lion, Azul a octopus, kalim an otter, vil would definitely be a peacock, idia would be a cat, and lastly malleus a dragon. They would definitely turned into animals due to some spell and I mean imagine seeing a huge dragon outside the ramshackle dorm, it would be really shocking and funny at the same time. 😆
Zoo Tycoon: Housewarden Edition
In which they accidentally turn into animals.
a/n: i started vibrating the minute I saw this because that's such a cute concept and I have no self control so here we go
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Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle turning into a hedgehog was not on your to-do list today. But alas, here you were, holding a furious, tomato-colored hedgehog that refused to be handled by anyone but you.
“Aw, look at his little face!” Ace cooed, leaning in way too close.
Riddle puffed up, his tiny spines bristling in pure indignation. You could practically feel the how dare you emanating from his quivering form.
Deuce, ever the voice of concern, scratched his head. “What do we do now? Can he… even turn back?”
Ace smirked. “Maybe we just keep him like this. He’s a lot cuter when he can’t yell at us.”
Riddle launched himself at Ace’s hand, delivering a swift poke with his needle-sharp snout. Ace yelped, flailing backward dramatically. “Okay, okay! Geez, he’s still scary even like this.”
You cradled Riddle closer to your chest, where he settled down, still glaring daggers at the others. Somehow, he was perfectly content in your hands, even though he practically vibrated with rage whenever anyone else got near.
As the day went on, Riddle’s hedgehog antics only grew.
At lunch, he sat on your lap, sniffing your sandwich like a tiny food inspector. “You want a bite?” you teased, holding out a crumb.
His tiny paw batted it away with a disdainful look. Well, as disdainful as a hedgehog could manage. He turned his head toward the teapot, making his intentions very clear.
“Oh, of course. Tea for the hedgehog,” Ace snorted. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Later, in the library, Riddle climbed onto your textbook, curling up into a spiky ball to block your reading. You tried to nudge him gently. “Riddle, I need to study.”
He uncurled just enough to glare at you, his beady eyes burning with absolute authority. Message received: study time was over.
By nightfall, you were exhausted. Riddle was perched on a pillow next to you, looking surprisingly regal for a tiny woodland creature.
“Alright, Your Majesty,” you said, rubbing your temples. “How do we turn you back? Should we call Professor Crewel? Or maybe Professor Trein?”
Riddle chirped in protest, clearly not a fan of either option.
Deuce had another bright idea. “What if it’s, like, a true love’s kiss thing? Isn’t that how these fairy tale curses usually work?”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”
But Riddle fixed you with a surprisingly intense hedgehog stare, his little nose twitching.
“Wait, are you… agreeing?” you asked, mildly horrified.
Ace snickered. “Do it. Kiss the hedgehog. For science.”
After much internal debate (and external heckling), you sighed and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Riddle’s tiny forehead.
There was a burst of light, and suddenly, you were nose-to-nose with a very human, very flustered Riddle Rosehearts.
He scrambled backward, covering his face with his hands. “W-well, that was… unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” you echoed. “You asked for it!”
Ace howled with laughter in the background. “So it was true love’s kiss! You two are so gross!”
Riddle glared at him, but his ears were still bright red as he turned to you. “I suppose… I owe you my gratitude. And, um…” He cleared his throat, fidgeting. “Would you—if it’s not too much trouble—consider going out with me?”
You blinked. “Wait, you’re asking me out now?”
Riddle crossed his arms. “You did kiss me. It’s only proper!”
You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Sure, Hedgehog Prince. Let’s go on a date.”
Riddle muttered something about proper decorum, but his small smile said he wasn’t too upset about it.
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Leona Kingscholar
Leona turning into an actual lion wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened this week, but it was definitely in the top five.
“C’mon, Prefect.” Ruggie grinned as he all but shoved you into Leona’s room, slamming the door behind you before you could protest. “I got stuff to do, and someone’s gotta deal with him. He only listens to you anyway!”
You turned to find Leona—the lion version—lounging on his bed like the world’s crankiest housecat. His massive paws stretched lazily, his eyes locking onto you with the unmistakable air of finally, someone competent.
“Uh, hi, Leona,” you ventured, waving awkwardly.
He grumbled, a low rumble of approval that shook the floorboards, and flicked his tail in a way that said, Don’t leave.
It became clear very quickly that Lion Leona was just as much of a diva as Human Leona.
First, he refused to eat the steak that Ruggie brought him, pawing at it disdainfully until you had to personally cut it into perfect bite-sized pieces. He made a satisfied grunt after his meal, flopping down at your feet like you were the royal food taster he’d personally hired.
Then, there was the grooming incident.
“Leona, you have something stuck in your mane,” you said, pointing to a suspicious tangle.
He gave you a look that said, And?
Sighing, you grabbed a brush and carefully worked out the knot. To your shock, Leona let out a rumble that sounded suspiciously similar to a purr.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He blinked slowly, the feline equivalent of a smirk.
Ruggie, ever the opportunist, couldn’t resist stopping by to witness the chaos.
“Wow, Prefect, he’s basically a giant kitten with you around,” Ruggie teased, leaning against the doorframe.
Leona growled, a low warning rumble that sent Ruggie scurrying back. “Okay, okay! Sheesh, no need to get territorial. Have fun babysitting!”
You sighed, scratching behind Leona’s ears. “You’re really not helping my case, y’know.”
Leona just huffed and leaned into your touch, clearly unbothered.
By the end of the day, you were sprawled on the bed next to Leona, who was taking up approximately 80% of the mattress.
“You’re kinda cute like this,” you admitted, running your fingers through his mane. “Not that you’re not cute normally, but… y’know. Less grumpy.”
He gave you a look that somehow conveyed I am never not grumpy.
Feeling bold (and maybe a little delirious from exhaustion), you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.
There was a sudden, blinding flash of light, and before you could process what was happening, Leona was back in his human form, lounging beside you with his trademark smirk.
“Well, well,” he drawled, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t know you felt that way, herbivore.”
You spluttered. “I—what—this was true love’s kiss?! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever—”
He leaned closer, cutting off your rant with a low chuckle. “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now. So… dinner? Or are you gonna keep brushing my hair all night?”
Your brain short-circuited, but you managed a weak, “Dinner sounds good.”
Leona smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Smart choice.”
From outside, Ruggie’s muffled voice shouted, “Hey, did it work? Can I come back now, or is he still a murder machine?”
Leona groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Sevens, someone muzzle that guy.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into Leona’s side. Maybe being stuck with him wasn’t such a bad deal after all.
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Azul Ashengrotto
To be fair, you weren’t exactly surprised when Jade and Floyd ambushed you outside Mostro Lounge. Their grins alone screamed mischief.
“Shrimpy~,” Floyd sing-songed, grabbing you by the arm. “C’mon, we need your help.”
“Azul’s having a little… situation,” Jade added with a cryptic smile. “And we think you’re the only one who can help.”
Before you could protest, you were unceremoniously dragged into Mostro Lounge, through a hidden door, and deposited in front of a massive aquarium. Inside was—
“Is that an octopus?” you asked, squinting.
The octopus—no, wait, Azul—floated pathetically in the corner, looking as done with life as an eight-legged creature could manage.
“Yep,” Floyd said cheerfully. “Boss turned himself into an octopus. Wouldn’t let anyone near him, though, so…”
Jade handed you a bottle filled with suspiciously glowing liquid. “Breathing potion. You’re going in.”
“Excuse me?!”
Before you could escape, Floyd picked you up like a sack of potatoes and dumped you into the tank.
You flailed briefly, realizing the potion worked—thank Sevens—but also realizing you were now face-to-face with Octopus Azul.
“Uh, hi?” you ventured, swimming awkwardly closer.
Azul didn’t respond, but one of his tentacles twitched and pointedly smacked the glass. You got the impression he was saying Why me?
“It’s not like I asked for this, y’know!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Your goons threw me in here!”
Azul floated closer, his large, round eyes narrowing as if to say Yes, and they will pay.
It didn’t take long for Azul to warm up to you, mostly because he realized you weren’t leaving.
“Are you sulking?” you teased after his sixth dramatic float to the other side of the tank.
A tentacle flicked water in your direction, splashing you.
“Hey!” You swam closer and poked him on the head. “Don’t be such a baby.”
Azul responded by curling a tentacle around your wrist, pulling you closer.
“Okay, fine, you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his squishy head. “There, happy?”
Azul’s tentacles tightened slightly, and you were 90% sure he was smug about it.
After what felt like hours of tentacle shenanigans (including one terrifying moment where Azul tried to steal your potion bottle), you sighed.
“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” you said, booping his forehead.
Azul blinked at you, his gaze softer than usual. He looked so pitiful and huggable that, without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.
There was a bright flash, and suddenly you were face-to-face with human Azul, who was sitting awkwardly in the shallow end of the tank, his face as red as a lobster.
“W-What did you just—”
“Oh my Sevens, you’re back!” you interrupted, relief washing over you. “Thank goodness, I thought I’d have to live in here forever!”
Azul cleared his throat, clearly flustered. “I—thank you. For… that.”
“No problem,” you said breezily, though your face felt like it was on fire.
Azul hesitated, fiddling with his glasses. “Would you, ah, perhaps… accompany me to dinner? As a token of gratitude, of course!”
“Sure,” you said, smiling. “But only if you promise to stop turning yourself into an octopus.”
He flushed even deeper, complaining something about “unavoidable circumstances,” but you couldn’t help laughing. Maybe dating an occasionally-octopus Azul wouldn’t be so bad.
From outside the tank, Floyd’s voice rang out: “Aww, Boss finally grew a backbone! Way to go, Shrimpy!”
Azul groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m never hearing the end of this.”
You patted his shoulder. “Welcome to my life.”
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Kalim Al-Asim
You really should have known something was wrong when Jamil showed up at your doorstep, eyes bloodshot and twitching slightly.
“I need your help,” he said, and those four words alone should’ve been your cue to lock the door and pretend you weren’t home.
But you didn’t, and that’s how you ended up sitting in Kalim’s opulent room, staring at a very excited otter splashing around in a gold-lined kiddie pool.
“You’re telling me Kalim turned himself into this?” you asked, pointing at the small, slippery creature currently attempting to roll onto his back and failing.
“Yes,” Jamil said, deadpan, rubbing his temples. “And he refuses to let anyone near him. Except apparently you.”
Kalim—the otter—perked up at the sound of your voice, flipping over and waddling toward you. He made a happy chirping sound before flopping dramatically onto your lap, his tiny paws grabbing at your shirt.
“See?” Jamil muttered, folding his arms. “This is why you’re staying here. I can’t deal with this anymore.”
Kalim was, to put it mildly, a handful.
One moment, he was contentedly snuggling in your lap, and the next, he was zooming across the floor, knocking over priceless vases and dragging an entire silk curtain into his pool.
“Uh, Kalim?” you called, watching as he tried to balance a sparkling golden spoon on his nose. “Maybe we don’t need to destroy the room?”
Kalim chirped in protest, clearly having the time of his life. He then waddled over to you, clutching the spoon like it was a treasure, and deposited it in your lap with a proud squeak.
“Well, at least he’s sharing,” you muttered, patting his head.
From the corner, Jamil was silently mouthing “thank you” over and over like a man who had just been freed from a lifetime of torment.
Kalim’s kiddie pool was more like a miniature lagoon, complete with floating toys and what looked suspiciously like a jewel-encrusted raft.
At some point, Kalim decided it would be fun to drag you into the water.
“Hey—wait, no!” you yelped as his surprisingly strong little paws grabbed at your sleeve, pulling you toward the pool. “I’m not getting in there!”
Kalim chirped insistently, his big otter eyes boring into your soul.
“Oh, come on,” you groaned. “Don’t give me that look.”
He gave you the look.
Five minutes later, you were sitting in the pool, soaked and glaring at Jamil, who was clearly struggling not to laugh.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you snapped.
“Immensely,” Jamil said, smirking.
After hours of otter chaos—during which Kalim managed to steal your shoe, splash water in your face, and attempt to juggle three golden coins—you finally sat back with a sigh.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his head as he snuggled against you.
Kalim let out a happy chirp, his little paws clutching your hand. He looked so ridiculously adorable that, without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.
There was a sudden burst of light, and when you opened your eyes, Kalim was sitting in front of you, back to his usual self—though still dripping wet and grinning ear to ear.
“You kissed me!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up like the sun.
“I—uh—well,” you stammered, your face heating up.
“Does this mean you like me?” he asked, tilting his head with an innocent smile.
Before you could respond, Jamil groaned from the corner. “Sevens, just ask them out already.”
Kalim turned to you, his grin widening. “Will you go out with me?”
You blinked at him, still processing the fact that you had just kissed an otter-turned-human. But then you smiled, nodding.
“Sure, Kalim.”
Kalim cheered, pulling you into a hug that nearly knocked you over. Meanwhile, Jamil sighed in relief, celebrating about finally getting some peace and quiet.
From the doorway, a passing student peeked in, took one look at the drenched mess of a room, and decided it was better not to ask.
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Vil Schoenheit
The day Vil Schoenheit turned into a peacock was the day you realized that your life at NRC was destined to never be normal.
“I don’t know how it happened!” Epel blurted, waving his hands in panic. “One second he was lecturing me about my skincare routine, and the next—poof! Peacock!”
“Of course, he’s a peacock,” you muttered, staring at the magnificent bird perched on the Pomefiore chaise lounge. The peacock in question—Vil—looked at you with a familiar haughty glare, which was impressive considering he now had beady bird eyes.
From the very beginning, Vil made it clear that he refused to be handled by anyone except you.
When Rook tried to approach him with a soothing poem about the beauty of nature, Vil screeched so loudly it sent even the huntsman scrambling.
When Epel tried to shoo him toward the door, Vil flared his tail feathers in a display so intimidating that Epel backed away, muttering, “This is worse than when he makes me wear lip gloss.”
But when you stepped forward, Vil immediately strutted over, his glossy feathers shimmering under the light. He circled you once before settling at your feet, letting out a dignified coo.
“Well, at least someone likes me,” you muttered, kneeling down to pat his head.
Vil preened under your touch, looking every bit the diva he was even in bird form.
Life with peacock Vil was… an adventure.
For one, he refused to eat anything that wasn’t served on fine china.
“Are you serious?” you asked, holding up a bowl of birdseed.
Vil turned his head away with a disdainful chirp, his tail feathers twitching in annoyance.
“Fine,” you groaned, dumping the seed onto a porcelain plate. “Happy now?”
Vil cooed in approval, delicately pecking at the food like it was a Michelin-star meal.
Then there was the incident with the mirror.
You found him perched in front of the Pomefiore vanity, admiring his reflection with an intensity that could only be described as borderline obsessive.
“You’re really leaning into the peacock thing, huh?” you teased.
Vil shot you a look that screamed How dare you, you pleb? before returning to his reflection, fluffing his feathers dramatically.
After a few days of peacock antics—including Vil refusing to let Epel touch his feathers (Glaring at him like he was screaming "He’s going to ruin them!”) and scaring off an unfortunate group of first-years with his aggressive tail display—you decided enough was enough.
“Alright, Vil,” you said, sitting down beside him. “We need to figure out how to fix this.”
Vil cooed softly, nuzzling against your hand.
You stared at him, your heart melting a little. He was undeniably cute in his current form, but you missed the human Vil—the one who could scold you for slouching and deliver a flawless monologue at the drop of a hat.
Without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his feathered head.
There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly, you were no longer holding a peacock but a very human—and very flustered—Vil Schoenheit.
“You… kissed me,” he said, his cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink.
“I—uh—well, you were cute?” you offered weakly.
Vil blinked at you, his usual composure slipping as he processed your words. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at his lips.
“Perhaps we should make this official,” he said smoothly, though the faint blush on his face betrayed his nerves. “Would you like to go out with me?”
You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. Then, you smiled, nodding.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
Vil’s smile widened, and for the first time since he’d turned back, you saw the confident, radiant Vil you knew and admired.
From the doorway, Rook peeked in, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Ah, the beauty of true love!”
Epel groaned, muttering, “This is the weirdest dorm ever.”
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Idia Shroud
The day you were unceremoniously dragged into Idia’s room by Ortho, you knew something was amiss.
Ortho clasped his hands together as you stumbled inside. "Please take good care of Big Brother!"
“Wait, what?” you started, but Ortho was already zooming out the door, leaving you alone in the darkened chaos that was Idia’s sanctuary.
And there, sitting in the middle of the room on a glowing gaming chair, was a cat.
A very grumpy-looking cat with blue flame-like fur tips and unmistakable, judgmental yellow eyes.
“Idia?” you whispered, staring at the cat.
The cat hissed—its ears flat against its head. Yep, that was definitely Idia.
"Ortho wasn’t joking…" you muttered, inching closer.
Idia-the-cat glared at you, his tail swishing like a disapproving metronome. But as soon as you reached out a cautious hand, he hesitated before begrudgingly letting you scratch behind his ears.
He let out the tiniest, most reluctant purr.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, your grin growing. “You’re so cute like this.”
The purring immediately stopped, and Idia swatted your hand away with a mortified meow that screamed, Don’t push it.
It didn’t take long for you to realize Idia-the-cat was just as much of a shut-in as his human counterpart.
When you tried to offer him some cat toys Ortho had left behind, he ignored them completely—until you dangled a toy shaped like a gaming controller.
Then, he lunged at it with surprising ferocity, claws out and eyes gleaming with an intensity that said, This is serious business.
You had to stop him from knocking over his prized figurines while he chased the toy across the room.
“Idia, stop! That’s a limited edition!” you cried, diving to save a teetering anime girl statue.
Idia froze mid-pounce, his tail twitching guiltily.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, setting the figure back on its shelf. “You’re worse than Grim.”
Idia meowed in protest, and you could swear he was rolling his eyes.
After a few hours of babysitting Cat Idia—during which he refused to eat anything but snacks from his secret stash and managed to trap himself inside a VR headset—you were completely exhausted.
You flopped onto his bed, sighing. “Idia, you're my friend, but you’re so much work.”
The cat jumped up beside you, curling into a surprisingly neat ball. His flame-like fur glowed softly in the dim light, and for a moment, he actually looked peaceful.
Unable to resist, you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his head.
There was a sudden flash of blue light, and you yelped as a very human—and very embarrassed—Idia Shroud appeared beside you.
“W-What just happened?!” he stammered, his face as red as his fiery hair tips.
You blinked at him, your brain struggling to reboot. “Uh… I think true love’s kiss broke the curse?”
Idia froze, his expression cycling between mortified and completely panicked.
“Wait, d-does that mean you… like me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if you don’t, I-I’m just gonna go dig my own grave now—”
You cut him off with a laugh, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, I like you, you dummy.”
Idia stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then, after a moment, he managed a small, shy smile.
“I… like you too,” he mumbled, fiddling with a lock of his hair. “So, uh… do you maybe wanna… go out? Like, on a d-date or something?”
Your heart did a little flip. “I’d love that.”
From the doorway, Ortho peeked in, his face lighting up. “Brother, I knew you could do it! This is the best day ever!”
Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Ortho, please!”
But despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop the small smile that lingered on his lips.
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Malleus Draconia
The day began like any other—except for the part where a massive dragon blocked the sunrise by parking itself right outside your window.
You blinked blearily, rubbing your eyes. Surely, this was a dream.
Then you heard an enthusiastic voice from below. "Good morning! Do you like your new dragon?"
You leaned out the window to see none other than Lilia Vanrouge, waving up at you with far too much cheer for this absurd situation. Beside him, Sebek was on his knees, his fists clenched, eyes practically bleeding tears of devotion—or frustration. Hard to tell with Sebek.
“Lilia,” you called down, “what the hell is that?” You pointed at the dragon, who was now looking at you with suspiciously familiar glowing green eyes.
“Oh, that’s Malleus!” Lilia replied, as though this was completely normal. “He seems to have had a little… magical mishap.”
“MISTAKE OF FATE, NOT A MISHAP!” Sebek roared, glaring up at you like it was somehow your fault. “AND THE YOUNG MASTER HAS CHOSEN YOU TO TEND TO HIS NOBLE FORM!”
You stared at the dragon—Malleus—again. His enormous tail thudded against the ground in what you could only assume was agreement.
“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”
After some coaxing (read: being dragged out by Sebek while you were still in your pajamas), you found yourself face-to-face with Dragon Malleus.
He lowered his massive head toward you, his glowing eyes narrowing in what you could only describe as smugness. When you hesitated, he huffed, a cloud of warm smoke billowing over you.
“Okay, okay, I get it! You want attention,” you grumbled, reaching up to pat his snout.
The dragon let out a low rumble of approval, curling his tail protectively around you.
Sebek sobbed dramatically in the background. “TO THINK THE YOUNG MASTER TRUSTS YOU ABOVE ALL OTHERS! IT IS BOTH AN HONOR AND A TRAVESTY!”
“Sebek, for the love of the Seven, stop yelling,” you snapped. “I already have a headache.”
Lilia chuckled from his perch on a nearby tree. “Oh, this is delightful. I wonder if I should be worried for you or amused by Malleus’s possessiveness.”
Dragon Malleus growled at Lilia, his tail sweeping protectively in front of you like a giant scaly barrier.
“Noted, noted!” Lilia said with a laugh, holding up his hands.
After a day of being followed around by a giant dragon who wouldn’t let you out of his sight (and growled at anyone who dared approach), you were officially at your wit’s end.
“Malleus,” you said, crossing your arms. “I know you’re stuck like this, but you can’t just… kidnap me for emotional support!”
Malleus blinked at you, his big dragon eyes somehow managing to look both sheepish and stubborn.
You sighed, stepping closer. “You’re kind of cute like this, though,” you admitted, reaching up to scratch his snout. His eyes half-closed in contentment, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
Then, on a whim, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his scaly cheek.
There was a sudden burst of magic, and you stumbled back as the massive form of the dragon shimmered and shrank. In its place stood a very human—and very flustered—Malleus Draconia.
“Child of Man,” he said, his face uncharacteristically red. “Your… your kiss… it broke the spell.”
You stared at him, your brain buffering. “Wait, true love’s kiss was the answer?!”
Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed.”
From behind you, Lilia cackled. “Oh, how romantic! A tale for the ages!”
Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “T-T-THE YOUNG MASTER’S TRUE LOVE?! UNBELIEVABLE!”
Malleus stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked down at you. “If this spell has revealed anything, it is that my feelings for you are genuine. Will you allow me to court you properly?”
You blinked, your face heating up. “Uh… yeah. Sure. But maybe next time, we skip the whole ‘giant possessive dragon’ thing?”
Malleus chuckled, taking your hand. “Anything for you, my treasure.”
Sebek fainted on the spot.
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Masterlist
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rainydetectiveglitter · 17 days ago
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Lilith in the Houses: How You’re Sexualized or Misunderstood
Lilith represents raw, primal energy in your chart, and depending on where it sits, it can cause you to be sexualized or misunderstood. Below, I’ve shared some thoughts on how this placement manifests in each of the houses, along with personal anecdotes where applicable. Keep in mind, this is just my anecdotal evidence, meant for fun.
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♈ Lilith in the 1st House Aries
People with Lilith in the 1st house often have an intense, captivating aura. There's something magnetic and fiery about you that can’t be ignored, and others tend to sexualize or focus on your bold, rebellious nature. This placement often gets you misjudged as wild or "bad" simply for being unapologetically yourself.
When I think about this placement, I always think of Tiger King. His sexuality was constantly discussed, and in a weird way, he became this spectacle because of it. It’s also fitting for someone like Michael Jackson—you often see men with this placement with makeup, eyeliner, or other dramatic visuals to showcase that captivating energy. Even though their sexuality isn’t always overt, people seem to be entranced by it anyway.
You might feel that society is always trying to push you into the "wild" or "sexualized" box based on how you express yourself. People either want to put you on a pedestal or demonize you for being strong, assertive, or rebellious.
You may choose to reject or lean into this image, asserting control over how others perceive you. You could even challenge the societal expectations placed on you and fight to redefine who you are in your own terms.
Cultivate a deep connection with yourself—embrace your true essence unapologetically. Learning to set boundaries and validate yourself can help reduce the impact of others’ projections.
♉ Lilith in the 2nd House Taurus
People with Lilith in the 2nd house often find their physical bodies or material possessions sexualized. There's this feeling that others equate your body to your self-worth. People might also judge you based on how you express yourself physically, interpreting your appearance or possessions as tied to your sexual appeal.
I don’t have many people in my life with this placement, but it’s interesting because some people do view their bodies almost like a possession—almost as if they think their value is solely based on what they look like. In other words, what you own or how you look can often become a reflection of your sexual worth.
You may feel that your worth is constantly tied to your looks or the material things you own. This leads to external pressure and the need to fight back against these surface-level judgments.
You might either put your worth into material things or rebel against them altogether, which is a big internal struggle. At times it might be hard to escape being seen only through the lens of external value.
Reconnect to your intrinsic self-worth—focus on building value from within. Learning to separate your identity from your possessions or body helps you reclaim your true sense of self.
♊ Lilith in the 3rd House Gemini
Lilith in the 3rd house can turn communication into a double-edged sword. This placement tends to sexualize the way you talk—your voice, tone, and speech patterns are often perceived as seductive or inappropriate. I have this placement, and people often react to my words or how I speak in ways that are totally unrelated to my intent. It’s not uncommon for people to want to take normal conversations to uncomfortable places like phone sex or sexting, especially in dating scenarios.
I can personally relate to this. When I worked in call centers, I got told time and time again how "attractive" or "sexy" my voice sounded—and sometimes people tried to take it into inappropriate directions. Even in group settings, I was often told that my speaking style made people uncomfortable, even though I wasn’t trying to be sexual at all. I’m not a sexual person in nature, but people still tried to pull me into these conversations based solely on how I spoke.
You’ll notice that people often try to make conversations about you sexual or flirtatious. That misinterpretation, where every word or gesture becomes something charged, can make your day-to-day life more challenging, especially when you’re just speaking freely. You may also have the feeling that you’re often misunderstood in public settings or school/work environments.
You might find yourself either resisting or rejecting these interpretations of your communication style, maybe becoming more reclusive or adjusting your approach altogether to avoid discomfort. There could also be moments when you want to “own” that sexualized persona simply as a defense mechanism, but it’s not who you are.
Own your voice and set clear boundaries in communication. When people misinterpret your words, use it as an opportunity to clarify your intent. Confidence in your language can shield you from unwanted projections.
♋ Lilith in the 4th House Cancer
With Lilith in the 4th house, family and home environments become a space for projected misunderstandings about who you are. Family members may make inappropriate or uncomfortable comments about your body or behavior growing up. As you age, they might even sexualize or misinterpret the way you interact or express yourself, often seeing you as "too grown for your age" or crossing boundaries that shouldn’t be discussed.
Growing up with Lilith in the 4th house, you might hear off-handed comments from family that make you feel uncomfortable about the normal, healthy process of growing up. Your behaviors or growth could be taken the wrong way, as if people have the right to define what’s "appropriate" for you in terms of sexuality. This projection can last into adulthood when family members still impose unrealistic or discomforting expectations on you.
Family projections around your body or sexual expression can affect your sense of self at the core. You may feel like you’re being misread or that your home environment doesn’t fully support your evolving self-expression.
You might challenge your family’s views of you or assert stronger boundaries within the family dynamic. There may be tension in these interactions, as your natural growth challenges their limiting expectations.
Establish healthy boundaries with your family and assert your identity on your terms. Communicating your real feelings with those closest to you, while setting clear boundaries around your development, will help shift those projections.
♌ Lilith in the 5th House Leo
With Lilith in the 5th house, your creativity, sexuality, and enjoyment of life become intertwined. You’ll notice that people often sexualize your playfulness, creative pursuits, and even your flirtatious nature. What should be considered playful or creative can sometimes be twisted into something too sexual, especially if you are expressive about your individuality.
People may only focus on the "fun" aspects of your personality and forget that there's much more depth to you. Your free-spirited, playful side can easily be interpreted as promiscuous or “overly sexual.” You might feel misunderstood for simply enjoying life or for being unapologetic in expressing your individuality.
You may lean into this sexuality for a while, either to match people’s expectations or as a way to cope with it, but it’s important to find the right balance. Embrace your creative freedom, but also be firm with others when it comes to how you express yourself.
Set strong boundaries around your creative energy and personal expression. Help others understand that your essence is more complex than how they try to sexualize you.
♍ Lilith in the 6th House Virgo
With Lilith in the 6th house, your workplace interactions or your approach to health can often be misunderstood. At work, others might project a certain sexualized image onto you, particularly in professional settings where boundaries should be respected. In my experience, I've witnessed situations where a male friend of mine faced sexual harassment, which they often brushed off to maintain peace. He dealt with frequent inappropriate advances and even physical groping from female coworkers, yet felt pressured to “laugh it off” and keep things lighthearted. He moved his things to another area in the office after. It's clear that a misunderstanding of professional boundaries happens with Lilith in this house.
While I don’t have Lilith in the 6th house myself, I’ve seen it firsthand. I believe that this placement can create discomfort when others try to sexualize your approach to work or health matters. It's hard because these boundaries often get crossed by people who don't take your professional image or seriousness into consideration.
The 6th house is about routine, health, and service, but Lilith here creates tension, with people viewing your work or contributions through a lens of desire rather than respect. Whether it’s at work or in a healthcare setting, feeling sexualized or disrespected in such personal areas can make you uncomfortable.
You might try to keep your distance or react by shutting people down, asserting your boundaries and your right to be respected. Or, you might even go the opposite route and become very vocal about defending your space, making sure others understand where you stand.
Work on strengthening your boundaries, especially when it comes to professional or intimate health matters. Practice keeping your environment focused on your work ethic, not your sexuality. Keep things professional and assertive, refusing to let others cross boundaries.
♎ Lilith in the 7th House Libra
With Lilith in the 7th house, relationships become a central area where you’re misjudged. People might project their sexual desires or desires for control onto your partnerships, reducing them to something physical or superficial rather than emotional. There's an intensity to how people view your relationships—it’s almost like they see them through a lens of desire and don’t always see you for who you truly are.
I’m curious to hear if anyone else with this placement has had similar experiences, but I imagine people might confuse the depth of your relationships for something too sexual or too chaotic. Since the 7th house is all about partnership, whether in romance, business, or even friendships, the idea of Lilith here could make it feel like every relationship becomes a power struggle or is sexually charged.
It can be tough because it feels like your partnerships are seen through projections of sexuality or power dynamics that you didn’t necessarily invite. These projections can make you feel misunderstood in your closest connections.
You might feel compelled to set extremely firm boundaries within your partnerships to avoid these projections. You may even feel the need to prove your worth in relationships beyond what’s expected of you, sometimes overcompensating for others’ misunderstandings.
Let go of others’ sexualized projections in your relationships. Be clear about your emotional needs and how you define intimacy. Surround yourself with people who value your connection beyond the surface level.
♏ Lilith in the 8th House Scorpio
Lilith in the 8th house is all about transformation, power dynamics, and shared resources, especially sexual intimacy. People might find you intensely magnetic and view your sexuality as your most powerful attribute. However, this can also make others see you as a mystery or a source of intrigue. There is a tendency for you to become sexualized, especially when dealing with issues of intimacy, control, or shared power.
The 8th house often deals with taboos, and with Lilith here, it might amplify that in ways where others expect you to use your power over them in intimate relationships or become seen as an object of both desire and obsession. This can also trigger the deep-seated fears in both you and others regarding trust and control in relationships.
You might be underestimated for your emotional depth, with the focus too often put on your sexuality. This can leave you feeling like you are misunderstood at your core, and that people only seek power through intimacy with you.
You may play into this mystique, allowing others to see you as they want to, or you may put up huge walls around your vulnerability, keeping your power closely guarded. Either way, navigating these intense dynamics can create an ongoing challenge to maintain a sense of self.
Work on transforming your personal power in ways that allow you to reclaim your own identity. Practice embracing deep emotional intimacy and power in a way that doesn’t compromise who you truly are at the soul level.
♐ Lilith in the 9th House Sagittarius
Lilith in the 9th house often leads others to sexualize or romanticize your ideas, philosophies, or your travels. Your belief system and personal growth are powerful, but people might be more intrigued by your provocative ideas or the way you expand their boundaries rather than seeing you as an intellectual authority. There’s an undercurrent of attraction, as others tend to focus on your adventurous or boundary-pushing nature.
The 9th house placement gives you a vast sense of expansion, but Lilith here can make your explorations, whether mental or physical, something others overly sexualize. It’s like you’re seen as someone who’s not just about knowledge, but about breaking every boundary—and that becomes sexualized.
You may feel like your desire for intellectual or physical exploration is misunderstood or reduced to something superficial by others. It's frustrating when what you deeply care about is diminished into sexual projections.
You might find it hard to reveal the true depth of your philosophical or adventurous side, feeling boxed into a role others have created for you. You could find yourself over-explaining or pulling back from sharing ideas at all.
Continue to seek intellectual, philosophical, and physical expansion in your life, but focus on doing it in a way that isn't limited by the projections of others. Reclaim your place as an explorer and learner without needing to fit into a mold others make for you.
♑ Lilith in the 10th House Capricorn
With Lilith in the 10th house, your public image, career, and reputation might get sexualized or reduced to how attractive or enticing you are in the public eye. There’s an intense energy that others sense, and some will focus only on the surface level—either deeming you a “sex symbol” or feeling threatened by your power. I have a friend who’s had similar experiences with Lilith here, where her sexuality was too often emphasized—sometimes by her family, others by society—leaving her struggling to find a way to separate herself from this imposed persona. Despite being talented and multifaceted, others often ignore these attributes, reducing her to a sexualized image.
You may feel frustration with the duality between the image people project onto you and who you really are. The constant struggle to have your full professional capabilities seen without your sexuality being the focus can be draining.
To cope, you might overcompensate by embodying this sexualized image more overtly online or offline, or you may go in the opposite direction and try to downplay your looks and focus solely on your work.
Set clear boundaries with your career and public life. Focus on presenting all the facets of yourself and refuse to be confined to only one. Let your true capabilities define you, not the projections others place on your image.
♒ Lilith in the 11th House Aquarius
Lilith in the 11th house means your presence in social groups and communities often comes with a layer of misinterpretation. People might see you as someone who “stirs the pot” in group settings, whether through your attractiveness, rebellious nature, or just by existing outside of the norm. You might be put in a position where your friendships are subtly (or not so subtly) sexualized, either by others assuming romantic or sexual undertones in your platonic relationships or by social circles treating you like an object of intrigue.
From what I’ve observed, this placement can create situations where people feel weirdly possessive over you in group settings. Friends might project their own insecurities onto you, assuming you must be manipulative, seductive, or disruptive just because of how others react to you. There can also be themes of exclusion—perhaps being ostracized or resented for something that isn’t even your fault.
Friendships can feel complicated. Either people try to control you, define you by your sexuality in group dynamics, or make you out to be a “bad influence.” Sometimes it feels like no matter what you do, there’s an energy that people react strongly to, whether positive or negative.
You might distance yourself from social groups to avoid dealing with all of the drama, or you could lean into your rebellious nature and embrace the fact that you shake things up. There can also be a feeling of wanting to prove that you’re more than the assumptions people make about you.
Focus on friendships and community that truly respect you for who you are beyond any projections. Not everyone will misunderstand you, and it’s okay to be selective with who you surround yourself with. Work on reinforcing your boundaries so that you aren’t constantly put in unfair situations.
♓ Lilith in the 12th House Pisces
This is one of the most hidden yet potent Lilith placements. You might not always be overtly sexualized in obvious ways, but there’s a deep, underlying energy that people pick up on. There can be projections placed upon you without you even realizing it, often behind closed doors or in secret conversations. Some may find you irresistibly mysterious or even dangerous without a clear reason why. Your presence lingers in people’s subconscious, sometimes making them uncomfortable.
This placement makes me think of someone who unknowingly impacts others on a psychological level. People might develop secret infatuations or fixate on you in ways that even you don’t fully grasp. It’s like you move through life feeling somewhat unseen, yet somehow, you’re always affecting people on a level beyond your awareness. People may make assumptions about you without real evidence, particularly in environments like hospitals, institutions, or spiritual communities where secrecy or hidden power is involved.
You might struggle with feeling misunderstood in ways that don’t make sense to you. You could go through experiences of being scapegoated, vilified, or treated as if you’re carrying some sort of “forbidden” energy. People may want to project their desires onto you in secret, which can feel invasive or confusing, especially if you don't know where these emotions are coming from.
Some with this placement retreat into isolation, feeling like it’s safer to remain unseen than to deal with others’ projections. Others might unknowingly fall into roles that confirm what people already assume about them, even if it wasn’t their intent. The struggle here is often about untangling other people’s hidden expectations and seeing yourself clearly.
Find ways to ground yourself in your own sense of identity, separate from what others secretly think or expect of you. Therapy, dream journaling, and shadow work can be powerful tools for unraveling hidden fears or subconscious influences in your life. Recognizing when you’re being scapegoated or unfairly projected upon is crucial, and learning to set firm energetic boundaries will protect your peace.
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Do any of these descriptions resonate with you? I’d love to hear about your experiences, especially if you have Lilith in the 5th or 7th house—those are placements I don’t personally have much insight into, so feel free to share your thoughts!
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calypso-rt · 21 days ago
Text
When Rafe Realizes...
He’s Falling for You
-> Rafe x F!Reader
-> Pt. 2: Your Favorite Dates with R.C.
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The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting golden light over the backyard as Rafe leaned back in his chair, the legs precariously balanced on the uneven patio bricks.
You were sitting beside him, scrolling on your phone, the occasional sound of your laughter breaking through the hum of cicadas.
He wasn’t sure when it started, but lately, he found himself watching you more than he should...at least more than someone who was supposedly "just friends" should.
He told himself it was harmless. You were easy to look at, after all, with your beautiful hair catching the light and your lips quirking into tiny smirks when you read something funny.
"Rafe," you said, your voice cutting through his daydream. You barely look up, your attention still on your screen. "Your hair is doing that weird thing again."
"My hair doesn’t do a weird thing," he shot back defensively, running a hand through it out of instinct.
You snorted, finally glancing up at him. "It absolutely does. Hold still."
Before he could protest, you leaned in, your fingers brushing against his forehead as you flattened a rogue piece that had sprung up, defying gravity. The touch was brief, just the lightest pressure of your hand smoothing over his hair, but Rafe felt his entire body tense like he’d just been electrocuted.
"There," you said, sitting back with a satisfied nod. "Now you look less like a mad scientist."
"I didn’t look like a mad scientist," he muttered, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.
"You kinda did," you teased, your focus already back on your phone.
Rafe leaned back again, a smug retort dying on his tongue as he felt the ghost of your touch still lingering. It wasn’t like you’d done anything grand. Just fixed his hair.
People did that kind of stuff all the time, right?
Except… no one else did it to him. And certainly not like that. There was something so natural about the way you’d reached over, like it was second nature, like it was the most normal thing in the world for you to touch him.
And now he was stuck, hyperaware of how the air still smelled faintly of your sunscreen from when you’d leaned in.
How the air between you had felt charged, even though you’d gone back to scrolling like it was nothing.
He shifted in his seat, trying to push the thought away, but it clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind. How could something so insignificant make him feel like the air had been knocked out of his lungs?
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you laugh softly at something on your phone, oblivious to his internal crisis. He swallowed hard, his chair tipping back a little further as he tried to refocus.
How does something so insignificant feel so important?
"Careful," you warned without looking up. "Fall off that chair and I’m not driving you to the ER."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
You had no idea, did you?
No idea that one absent-minded touch had just tipped his entire world off balance.
"Thanks for your concern," he said dryly, finally steadying himself.
You gave him a fleeting smile, one he tried to memorize. Because somewhere in the chaos of his overthinking, Rafe Cameron was beginning to realize something terrifying and wonderful all at once.
He was falling for you, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
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Rafe leaned against the counter of the grocery store, pretending to scroll on his phone while you wandered the aisles. He hadn’t even wanted to stop here, but you’d insisted on grabbing snacks before heading to the beach.
"What’s the big deal? It’s just food," he’d grumbled earlier, but you’d only rolled your eyes and dragged him along anyway.
Now he was waiting impatiently, glancing at his watch every few seconds. “You done yet?” he called out.
“Almost!” you yelled back. “I’m looking for something specific.”
He sighed dramatically. “We’re going to miss the sunset at this rate.”
When you finally rounded the corner, a triumphant grin on your face, you were holding a bag of… lemon pepper sunflower seeds?
“What’s that for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
You blinked at him, clearly unimpressed. “For you, obviously.”
Rafe stared at the bag, then back at you. “What?”
“You told me a few weeks ago you used to eat these all the time when you were a kid. Remember? You said your dad used to bring them home after his fishing trips.”
For a moment, he was silent, caught completely off guard.
He had mentioned that, hadn’t he?
Some random memory he’d thrown out one evening, barely thinking about it. It wasn’t even important. Just some passing detail about his childhood.
But here you were, holding a bag of sunflower seeds like it was the most normal thing in the world to remember something so small.
“I didn’t think you’d…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.
“Didn’t think I’d what? Listen to you?” you teased, tossing the bag into the basket.
“Well… yeah,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
You rolled your eyes playfully. “I always listen, Rafe. You just don’t talk enough for me to prove it.”
There was a lightness to your tone, but the words hit him harder than he expected. You listened to him. Actually listened. To the stuff no one else cared about, the random memories he’d barely even registered himself.
“Sheesh,” you said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “If I’d known this would blow your mind, I would’ve grabbed these for you weeks ago.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, but he was smiling now, following you toward the register.
As you paid, chatting casually with the cashier, Rafe kept glancing at the bag of sunflower seeds in your basket. Something so simple, but it made him feel… seen. Like you actually cared about the parts of him that most people ignored.
Walking out of the store, he finally nudged your shoulder. “Thanks. For, uh, remembering that.”
“Of course,” you said, flashing him a grin. “Just don’t eat them all at once. I’m not buying more if you get another craving later.”
He laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he fell into step beside you. Inside, though, his chest felt warm in a way he wasn’t used to.
She actually listens to me, he thought, stealing a glance at you as you debated what playlist to put on in the car. How is she so thoughtful?
And just like that, another piece of the puzzle slid into place. He was falling for you, headfirst and helplessly, and he wasn’t even mad about it.
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The rain was relentless, pounding against the pavement like a drumline gone rogue. Your car sat lifeless on the shoulder of a backroad, hazards blinking uselessly in the downpour.
You’d tried everything.
Turning the key again and again, Googling quick fixes, even giving the steering wheel a good, frustrated whack.
Nothing worked.
Which is how you ended up sitting in the driver's seat, soaked from your earlier attempt to check under the hood, dialing a number you swore you wouldn’t use unless it was an absolute emergency.
“Rafe?” you said when he picked up, voice sheepish.
He immediately picked up on the edge in your tone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”
“It’s probably nothing,” you rushed to say, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “My car broke down, and it’s pouring, and I’m kind of stuck on the side of the road. I just… I didn’t know who else to call or...or what to do...”
For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the rain hammering against your windshield and the faint noise of his car’s radio in the background.
“Where are you?” he said, tone clipped and serious.
You gave him the location, muttering something about how you didn’t want to bother him if he was busy, but he cut you off.
“Stay put. Lock your doors. I’ll be there in ten.”
True to his word, Rafe’s truck pulled up exactly ten minutes later, tires skidding slightly as he parked in front of your car. You barely had time to roll down your window before he was at your door, an umbrella in one hand and an intense look in his eyes.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning down to peer inside.
“Yeah, just a little damp,” you joked, gesturing to your soggy clothes.
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he opened your door and handed you the umbrella before crouching to look under your hood himself.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” you said, feeling a little guilty as you watched him fiddle with something. “I could’ve called a tow truck.”
“Yeah, and waited an hour for them to show up while sitting out here alone?” he shot back, not even looking up. “Not a chance.”
You blinked at him, surprised by the sharpness in his tone.
“Rafe, I’m fine—”
“You’re not fine,” he interrupted, standing up straight and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Your car’s dead, you’re soaking wet, and it’s pitch black out here. What if someone stopped by who wasn’t me, huh?”
The thought made your stomach flip, but you tried to shake it off. “I had my doors locked.”
“That’s not the point,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.
You stared at him, taken aback by his uncharacteristic panic. “Why are you so worked up?”
“Because I care about you!” he snapped before freezing, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Your eyebrows shot up. “You… care about me?”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I care, okay? I don’t like the thought of you being stuck out here alone in the middle of nowhere. It freaks me out.”
For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The Rafe you knew was cocky and confident, never flustered or vulnerable like this. Seeing him so visibly shaken made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.
“Well,” you said softly, “thanks for coming to my rescue.”
He finally looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. “Always.”
You smiled, holding the umbrella a little higher to shield him from the rain. “Guess you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”
He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t let that get around.”
As he helped you into his truck, soaking wet and dripping water all over his leather seats, he couldn’t help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye.
You shivered, hugging your arms to your chest in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.
Rafe’s eyes softened for a split second before he quickly reached for the spare jacket in the back seat, tossing it to you. “Here,” he muttered. “Put this on before you freeze to death.”
You gave him a grateful, but shaky, smile, slipping the jacket on. “Thanks, Rafe.”
He didn’t respond, but you caught the way he kept his eyes on you, making sure you were okay. The warmth of his jacket, the concern in his eyes, it was enough to make the cold rain outside feel like nothing.
She called me. Out of everyone, she called me.
And that’s when it hit him, hard and fast like a tidal wave. He wasn’t just smitten. He was utterly and completely gone for you.
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Rafe sat back in his chair, his gaze lazily sweeping over the busy café. He had his usual coffee in front of him: black, no sugar, no cream.
Just the way he liked it.
It was a Saturday morning, and the place was a bit quieter than usual, with only a handful of people scattered at tables around him. His fingers tapped the rim of his cup as his mind wandered.
He was halfway through a text to a friend when he noticed something that made him stop mid-typing.
You had slid to sit across from him, sipping on your own cup of coffee. When you lowered it, you caught his eye and gave a small smile.
"Coffee’s perfect today," you commented, stirring it absentmindedly.
Rafe blinked, then stared at your cup for a second. It was identical to his: black, no sugar, no cream.
"You—" he started, his voice trailing off in confusion. You hadn’t ordered the same thing, had you? No, you always chose the caramel latte, but you had started transitioning to more bitter coffee...
His eyebrows furrowed, watching you take another sip.
"What?" you asked, noticing his stare.
"Why’d you..." Rafe caught himself. "Never mind."
He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. You’d been unconsciously drinking your coffee just the way he did. Had you even noticed?
His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back, his gaze not leaving you. You’d also been humming that same song he had been listening to on repeat all week. An old track by some band he'd introduced you to, one that had been stuck in his head for days.
When you softly hummed the chorus as you fidgeted with your phone, he couldn’t help but grin.
"You always hum that?" he asked casually, raising an eyebrow.
You stopped and blinked, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I didn’t realize it was the same one we were playing the other day, though."
He sat forward slightly, his eyes searching your face for a moment, trying to figure out if you were joking, but there was something in the way you said it that made it clear: you weren’t aware of the little things.
How, over the past few weeks, your habits had begun to align with his.
And in that moment, Rafe felt a quiet thrill spread through him. You were becoming his person without even trying. Without even realizing it.
He leaned back, smiling to himself, then took a sip of his coffee. “Guess we’ve got the same taste,” he said with a half smirk, watching you carefully for your reaction.
You looked at him and shrugged again, clearly clueless about what had just happened.
"Guess so," you said, a playful glint in your eyes.
Rafe’s heart gave a small, almost imperceptible flutter.
You weren’t his yet. Not officially, at least. But in this small, unspoken moment, he was already beginning to feel like you were.
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You had spent hours upon hours, which felt like minutes, talking, joking around, and watching ridiculous movies with stupid plots, chowing down on various snacks.
The door had clicked shut behind you with the usual soft thud, and now that you were gone, he couldn’t help but feel that sharp pang of longing in his chest. It was like someone had tugged at something deep inside him, pulling a part of himself along with you as you left.
Rafe’s lips pressed together, and his gaze drifted to the spot on the couch where you had just been sitting.
When did she start taking up so much space in my life?
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the thought. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how true it was. Every time you were around, everything felt just a little more... right.
Even the way the silence between the two of you felt more like a conversation than an awkward pause.
With a groan, he grabbed his phone, half-wishing he could text you to come back, but he knew that was ridiculous. You’d left, and it was just the way things were.
Still, as he sat there in the quiet, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten so used to your presence in his life.
And how much he already missed it.
Pt 2: Your Favorite Dates with R.C.
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pucksandpower · 9 months ago
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So Good to Me
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further
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The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.
You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-
“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.
A TikToker.
You sigh internally but force a polite smile.
“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.
“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.
“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.
The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”
You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.
His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”
You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.
“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”
You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.
“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.
“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.
After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”
“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”
Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.
You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”
“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”
“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”
“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”
You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”
“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”
You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.
“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.
The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.
“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”
The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”
You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.
“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”
An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”
You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.
Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.
Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.
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thomamaru · 1 month ago
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Scripted Hearts: The Star, His Love, and His Spotlight...
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Synopsis: Rin loves it when you wear his jersey. He may not show it, but deep inside, it shows that you are only a fan of him and nobody else's. The one day you wear it outside, you encounter his brother.
Tags: Rin Itoshi x gn!reader, jealous and protective! Rin itoshi, Sae is a tease, fluff
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You’re on your way to meet Rin after his late practice, lazily wearing one of his jerseys since he left it at your place after a shoot. It feels soft and oversized, the number 10 sprawled across your back. As you pass by a café, someone calls out.
“Nice jersey.”
You turn, heart skipping as you recognize Sae Itoshi. Rin’s older brother. The famous Sae Itoshi—international soccer superstar and household name. You’d seen his aloof expression a million times in interviews, but now he’s standing a few feet from you, a brow raised.
“Thanks?” you stammer, unsure of what else to say.
“I didn’t know Rin lent you that.” His voice is cool but mildly amused. “Must mean you’re important to him.”
You chuckle nervously, “Uh, something like that. Are you visiting?”
Sae steps closer, a faint smirk gracing his face. “Something like that. Mind if I join you for a moment?”
As Sae chats with you, you find yourself less overwhelmed and more fascinated. He’s charming and charismatic, making light jokes about Rin’s dramatic nature, though there’s a sharpness in his tone whenever he mentions his younger brother.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rin walking up the street. His hoodie’s pulled low, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture already rigid when he notices Sae speaking with you.
Sae follows your gaze, and a glimmer of mischief lights up his eyes. Before you can figure out what he’s planning, Sae leans in.
“Stand still,” he says casually, pulling out his phone.
“What—?”
Click.
The sudden flash blinds you, and before you can react, Sae pulls back with a smug grin. Turning to Rin, who’s now glaring at the scene from just a few feet away, Sae holds up the phone as if to say, See this?
“Later,” Sae says coolly, walking past you to casually bump shoulders with Rin. His exit is punctuated with a stuck-out tongue that only Rin can see.
You turn to Rin, still stunned. “That was...weird.”
Rin doesn’t answer. His teal eyes are locked on the spot Sae disappeared, his jaw visibly clenched. Without a word, he turns and starts walking ahead of you.
---
From that point on, Rin becomes...strange.
He starts hovering closer, always making sure his arm rests around your shoulders or that he’s the one holding your hand—even in situations where it isn’t necessary.
He starts nitpicking things. “Why were you talking to him for so long?” “You looked too comfortable.” “Don’t trust anything he says.”
During a red-carpet event, he leans in closer than usual when photographers ask for a couple shot, his lips brushing your temple with a pointed, "Mine," under his breath.
At first, you think he’s just being protective. But after the third time you catch him scrolling through his phone (most likely checking Sae’s social media), you finally confront him.
It’s late at night, and Rin is at your place, brooding on your couch while you try to get some work done. When he sighs for the fifth time in ten minutes, you slam your laptop shut.
“Okay, spill.”
Rin flinches but doesn’t look at you. “What?”
“You’ve been acting weird ever since we bumped into Sae. Don’t lie.”
His lips tighten into a thin line as his fingers tap against his knee—a rare show of nervousness. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s obviously not ‘nothing.’ Rin, if something’s bothering you, just—"
“I didn’t like it.”
You blink, startled by his bluntness. “…Didn’t like what?”
“The jersey,” he says softly, staring at his hands. “You wearing my number. His number. Him acting like you…” Rin takes a deep breath, the words almost growled: “...like you’re someone he can mess with.”
“Oh.” You sit back, realization dawning on you. “You’re jealous.”
His head snaps up, his teal eyes wide. “I’m not—”
“You’re definitely jealous!” you say, stifling a laugh.
“I’m not!” Rin protests, his voice rising slightly before softening. “It’s just… I don’t like the way he looks at you. Like he’s better than me. Like he can take you—”
“Rin.”
Your voice makes him pause, and when you place a hand on his cheek, his rigid expression crumbles just slightly.
“I’m with you because I want you. Not Sae, not anyone else. Just you.
He swallows hard, leaning into your touch. “You mean that?”
“Of course, I mean it.” You smile softly. “Though, for the record, I like when you get a little possessive. It’s cute.”
Rin groans, burying his face in your neck as you laugh.
---
The next day, Rin posts a picture of the two of you in his jersey on his private account—a candid shot of you laughing on his couch while he watches you with a rare, genuine smile.
Minutes later, your phone buzzes with a notification.
Sae Itoshi: Guess he made his move, huh? Cute.
You laugh, showing Rin the message. He narrows his eyes, snatching your phone and typing a single reply.
Y/N : Stay away.
When you glance at him, his glare softens into a small smirk. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say, pulling him closer. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Only because of you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours.
And for once, you’re okay with that.
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(* ̄∇ ̄)ノ
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izzy02soph · 3 months ago
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Generals Daughter and her gladiator 🤎🏛️
Hanno/ Lucius Verus x afab! Reader
I own none of these characters except Y/N (if you even want to consider her a character)
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——————
Y/N stood amongst the opulence of Senator Thraex's grand party, her eyes scanning the lavish surroundings. The twin emperors, were seated in places of honor, their presence commanding the room, while their whores rubbed themselves desperately against their emperors. But it was the sight in the center of the room that captured her attention—two gladiators were about to fight for the evening's entertainment.
“What are they going to do Aelia?” Y/N asked her friend next to her who was coincidentally Senator Thraxe’s young wife, Aelia
“What does it look like, silly, they’re gonna fight!” Aelia said getting excited
Among them was a fierce looking dark haired man, and an older barbaric gladiator known for his fierce reputation. As the fight started, Y/N watched intently. The dark haired man seemed reluctant, trying to stop the other man, but the crowd's demands and the emperor's orders left him no choice. With a heavy heart and a fierce determination, after minutes of fighting, the dark haired man eventually impaled his opponent, the crowd in the room erupting in cheers. Y/N and Aelia giggling as they clapped, finding entertainment in these fights.
“What a spectacular fight” Emperor Geta said as he finished clapping dramatically and walked over in front of the dark haired man.
“What’s your name, slave.”
The silence in the room was deafening, so silent you could hear your guards breathing.
“Hanno is his name, Caesar. He only speaks his native tounge, Caesar” Macrinus the stable master said as he reassured him.
The emperor hummed as if he was thinking of what to say next. Finally, the dark haired slave spoke up.
“The gates of Hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.” He said with a smug look.
“So Hanno is a poet, too” Geta said while chuckling dryly.
“Geta don’t be rude” Caracalla said in a joking manner as he sat up in his seat. All his jewelry clanked as he moved.
For a split second Hanno looked over trying to regain his composure, eyes landing on Y/N
“Can’t wait to see how you are in the arena. Hanno.” Emperor Geta said as he looked at the slave one last time before walking back to his seat
Soon after, the music of the harp started back up. Moved by his internal struggle and the raw power he displayed, Y/N made a swift decision. She turned to her guard and whispered urgently, "I must meet him. Arrange it immediately." The guard nodded and hurried to comply.
______
Soon after, Y/N found herself in the steam-filled bathhouse where Hanno was enjoying his hard-earned reward. He looked up as she entered, jewelry adorning her wrists and her necklace sparkling off the steaming water. His eyes narrowing with suspicion and curiosity. “You’re not supposed to be here" he said, his voice rough and edged with bitterness.
“So he speaks”
Y/N stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "I saw you fight. You did not want to kill him, yet you did. I wanted to meet the man who battles not just with his body, but with his conscience."
Hanno's expression softened slightly, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. "And what do you hope to gain from this meeting? And again why are you here?" His words were still harsh, but there was a hint of something else—perhaps a spark of interest in the boldness of the beautiful lady.
“You heard me the first time” Y/N said, in a challenging tone. She sat down on the ledge of the tub as spoke with a lowered voice. "I want to know where you came from, Hanno. Who you are beyond the fighting. I saw the conflict in your eyes tonight. You're not just a brute for their entertainment."
Hanno's eyes narrowed, though his posture remained relaxed. "You speak with conviction, but words are easy, princess. What makes you think your curiosity will change anything? What makes you think I even want to share my past?"
“You think I’m a princess? So eager to jump to conclusions. Well if it make a difference I’m General Acacius’ daughter. Now you know where I come from” Y/N said trying to read the dark haired man
“You didn’t answer me the first time, why are you here?” Hanno said, eyes darkening as he realized who’s daughter he was talking to
Y/N's lips curved into a smirk. "Because I believe there's more to you than what meets the eye. And because I know what it's like to be trapped by expectations, to have your identity overshadowed by a title. We are not so different, you and I.“ She said as she got up from where she was sitting and got ready to walk out.
“In two days time, when you’re in the arena, win the crowd. They’ll love you” She said smugly before walking out.
______
Two days later, the Colosseum was buzzing with excitement. The gladiator games were set to continue, and the crowd was eager for more bloodshed. The Emperors, Macrinus, General Acacius, Lucilla, and Y/N were all present, watching intently from their seats. All in their noble attire, the emperors gold accessories sparkling in the sunlight.
Hanno and the other gladiators were brought into the arena. As they stood there, Hanno knelt and ran the dirt through his hands, a gesture reminiscent of the late warrior Maximus. This caught Lucilla’s attention, and she recognized Hanno. Y/N, noticing Lucilla’s reaction, leaned in.
“Lucilla, you seem troubled. Are you alright?” Y/N asked with genuine concern.
“I am fine, just... a memory stirred dear,” Lucilla replied, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
The games commenced with a brutal fervor. Hanno and the other gladiators were pitted against the undefeated gladiator Glyceo, who entered the arena atop his fearsome rhino. The battle was fierce and chaotic, with Glyceo mercilessly slaughtering the other men. The crowd roared with approval as the bodies fell, leaving only Hanno standing against Glyceo.
Y/N nervously started twisting her rings around her fingers, praying to the gods they kept Hanno alive.
Hanno and Glyceo faced each other, the tension palpable. Their fight was intense, each strike filled with raw power. Glyceo managed to knock Hanno to the ground. Geta, watching from above, turned his back looking for someone to help him decide
“Y/N, what do you think we should do with him” Geta asked as the arena waited for an answer
“Caesar, show mercy.” Y/N said in an almost pleading tone. Finding entertainment in these fights. Geta pointed his thumb upwards. Giving Glyceo a chance to spear Hanno
“Mercy is for the weak.”
Hanno, refusing to give up, rose to his feet and continued the fight. With a final, desperate effort, he impaled Glyceo, the champion’s eyes widening in shock as the blade was pulled out of his stomach. The crowd fell silent, holding their breath as they awaited the next move.
Geta, maintaining his cruel demeanor, gave the thumbs-down signal. Hanno, breathing heavily and covered in blood, took two swords and, with a swift, cross-like motion, decapitated Glyceo. The head rolled away as the crowd erupted into a mixture of shock and exhilaration.
Y/n watched intently as Hanno stood victorious, his chest heaving, and his eyes wandered to the Emperors box across the arena. The crowd cheering was deafening. He had won the crowd. In that moment, it was clear that the games were far from over.
Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, knowing that this was only the beginning of a much larger conflict.
______
“Row. Row. Row” The commander said as the gladiators kept rowing, the practice exhausting them, hands aching.
“Ridiculous” Hanno mumbled as the commander walked past him. The commander immediately stopped in his tracks.
“What did you say, slave?”
“I said this is ridiculous” Hanno said staring him down.
“Alright, everyone out. Except you” The commander said.
“You will row until it isn’t ridiculous” the commander said as he grinned evilly as he stood tall, hands behind his back.
“I guess we’ll be here a while then” Hanno said as he started rowing again.
______
After practice, Hanno woke up by a stinging pain in his hand, still seated in the boat. Ravi, the healer, seated in front of him.
"Calm down, Hanno. It is just vinegar" Ravi said, his voice calm and reassuring as he gathered his materials.
As Ravi worked, cleaning and bandaging Hanno's hands, Hanno couldn't help but think about Y/N. The way she had leaned in to speak with Lucilla, the concern in her eyes—it all intrigued him.
"Ravi," Hanno began, wincing slightly as Ravi applied a salve to a particularly deep cut, "Tell me about Y/N."
"Y/N Acacius? General Acacius’ daughter? Why do you want to know?” Ravi said, chuckling as if it was a funny question.
“Well go on.”
Ravi paused for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “There’s not much to it. She's the general's daughter…. But.. never mind.
“What Ravi?” Hanno said, starting to get annoyed.
“There's more to her than what meets the eye."
Hanno's interest was piqued. "What do you mean?"
Ravi continued, his hands moving deftly over Hanno's wounds. "She's a warrior, trained in the arts of combat. But she stopped fighting after the death of her mother and her father's remarriage. People know she knows how to fight, but not many bother for her hand because they know she’s strong and the general’s daughter—meaning she was taught very well in combat."
Hanno absorbed this information, a newfound interest growing within him. "A warrior who set aside her sword... I didn't expect that."
Ravi smiled slightly. "Few do. But y/n is not one to be underestimated. She carries the weight of her responsibilities with grace and strength. You'd do well to remember that. Why do you want to know though, I thought you hated the General."
As Ravi finished tending to his wounds, Hanno felt a sense of admiration and curiosity about Y/N. He realized that there was much more to her than he had initially thought, and he was determined to learn more about the mysterious women who had captured his attention.
______
Y/N was lounging in the tablinum area, her mind drifting aimlessly as she tried to relax. The events of the day had been intense, and she needed a moment of peace. Just then, Lucilla walked in, her face etched with worry and tension.
"Lucilla, what's wrong?" Y/N asked, sitting up straighter. She had noticed Lucilla's troubled demeanor earlier at the games but hadn't had the chance to ask.
Lucilla hesitated, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you. But if I tell you, you cannot share this to another soul. And right now only your father knows about this.”
“What troubles you?”
“It's about Hanno... or rather, Lucius." Lucilla says as she finds a seat near Y/N
Y/N's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Lucius? What do you mean?"
Taking a deep breath, Lucilla began to explain. "Hanno is actually my son. His real name is Lucius. After my brother Commodus was killed by Maximus, I had to send Lucius away to keep him safe. He was and still is the rightful successor, and I feared for his life."
Y/N listened intently, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. "So, you sent him away to protect him?"
"Yes," Lucilla nodded, her voice trembling slightly. "Senator Gracchus helped me arrange to meet with Lucius to tell him the truth about his parentage. He is the son of Maximus. But when I told him, he was furious. He ordered me to leave his cell, angry that I had sent him away and blaming Acacius for Arishat’s death."
Y/N's heart ached for Lucilla. She didn’t know who Arishat was or why he was mad at her father, but she had to figure it out"That's a lot for him to take in. What will you do now?"
"I went to your father," Lucilla admitted, her eyes pleading. "I asked him to help Lucius. He needs guidance and support now more than ever."
Y/N reached out, placing a comforting hand on Lucilla's shoulder. "We'll find a way to help him. He's strong, just like you. We'll get through this together."
Lucilla nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Thank you, Y/N. Your support means everything to me."
Together, they sat in the quiet of the tablinum, the weight of their shared burdens palpable but bearable in each other's company.
______
I hope yall liked it! I got a request from someone to make a story for this, so I did it! Now I know it’s not all comely accurate but I’m working with what I got so take it or leave it! There most likely will be a part 2 if this goes how I want it but let me know if y’all even want a pt 2!🩷
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monicahar · 10 months ago
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“my wife.”
how they address you. why does it make your heart skip a beat each time?
characters; neuvillette, wriothesley
—female pronouns obvi, aaaa this is so random😭 fluff, tad bit of crack, has suggestive themes/dirty jokes cause that's my humor in general, just tryna get into writing again heehaa don't mind me ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ
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NEUVILETTE always accompanies the term with unmatched affection. it rolls off his tongue perfectly like a match made in heaven, coupled with the serene image of you instantaneously appearing in his mind before he even thinks of the uttering the endearing term. he still finds it surreal that you are both even lawfully married, yet the way he calls you his wife is already on instinct. is it too presumptuous of him?
well, in the end, he can't find any means to worry about it when you seem to equally adore the nickname.
“ooohh, say it again, say it again!”
he can't tell whether he married a child or not, but he still obliges your request and calls you his wife affectionately once more.
meanwhile, furina nearly gags everytime she hears him say it so softly—like using any other tone when referring to you would land him in the hands of the fortress of meropide. sure—she might've been the one who set up both of you—but the drama and thrill akin to watching a romance film has delightfully ended, and she can only meddle so much in marital matters. the iudex just might actually have her head in a platter if she were to do anything mischievous at that point.
but while a happy neuvillette is running around announcing 'my wife' this and 'my wife' that, you are currently stuck on what to call him in return, sadly enough.
“at this point, i think i'm just going to call you daddy.”
it was unfortunate with the way he choked on some of the water he was drinking—well, thank goodness he didn't spill much as before. for this wasn't the first time you said something unprompted while he was in peace with his water—he can only internally sigh.
“and what exactly has influenced you to arrive at such a conclusion, my wife?” he does not miss the tiny shudder of your body that followed the endearment. your face burns a tad bit at that, and he softly chuckles.
“your effect on me is no joke, you know?” you pout at his amused smile, “the way you refer to me so sweetly makes me want to call you my dearest husband everytime.”
“i don't recall voicing any complaints. is something else holding you back from doing so?”
you nod solemnly in agreement at that, which prompts him to raise a brow in mild curiousity.
“thing is, i really like calling you by your first name. same with monsieur neuvilette. there's something mildly erotic within it—you get what i mean, hehehe...” he only stares at you, clearly unimpressed, and a bit concerned at the implication. you clear your throat, apologizing under your breath.
“still—it's such a devastating predicament to be unable to choose between the three.” you sigh defeatedly, moving to slump your entire weight on his lap. you mutter, “my dearest husband monsieur neuvillette...mmm, no, that's too long.”
chuckling at your dramatic antics, he plants a soothing hand on your waist, the other fixing your wrinkled clothing as you practically melt against his hold. “and you thought settling on daddy was the appropriate option?”
“i'm not hearing any objections.” you jest, feeling cheeky.
“please refrain from calling me such a thing in the eyes of the public atleast.”
“...huh? you're actually allowing it??”
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WRIOTHESLEY on the other hand, says it as if he's flaunting. it leaves his lips like a taunt each time, indirectly telling the other party 'i have a hot wife and you dont' even though most of the time the people he mentions you to don't even know what you actually look like. it's silly, childish even, but you still love it nonetheless.
sigewinne and the other inmates have collectively told you that ever since you got married, he has never uttered your actual name to anyone else. some find it weird, some find it somehow disrespectful, and some are now convinced he's crazily obsessed with you, and now he's showing it off every chance he gets, much to everyone's dismay.
it's arrived to the point where a small percentage of people have actually forgotten about your name, and now refer to you as the duke's wife, or even duchess, to which you made a face at. that's kind of pushing it by then.
anywho, in the end, it's funny and endearing, maybe even makes you a bit giddy, but there is no way you're telling him that. the situation might escalate even more if possible.
“you know, my wife is very mean to me today.”
as a pair of strong yet gentle arms wrap around your waist, you resist the growing smile on your face, deciding to mess with your husband for a bit.
“is that so?” you continue your chores without a care in the world. he huffs.
“mhm. she won't look me in the eye the whole day, even though she seemed sooo happy last night.” face instantly burning, you hiss as you slap his arm in a fit of embarrassment, pulling a hearty chuckle from the man behind you.
“—and now she's hitting me as well. i can't believe this.” you both know very well he was not fazed in the slightest bit.
“if her husband wasn't such a pervert then maybe—”
his facade cracks as he forces out an awkward laugh, “hey now, baby, you know i'm nothing like that.”
“wriothesley.”
he clears his throat awkwardly, “okay, maybe a little. it's exclusive for you though! my wife doesn't have to be so mean about it, you're making me reallyyy sad here, y'know?”
there it is again, you think. that nickname. that damned word that makes you want to turn around and smash your lips against his and—wait, hold yourself together! don't forget the reason you're being cold to him!
“you deserve to feel remorse. i've been struggling to even move the whole day because of you.”
you go rigid.
you didn't mean for that to come out so bitter...oh no.
“oh. so that's what this is about.” you don't even have to turn around to know that there's a smug look on his stupidly handsome face, his grip on your waist turning into soothing circles as he presses a kiss to your neck.
“if my wife wanted a massage, she could've just said so.” it's husky when it leaves his mouth, leaving you to shiver with the chills he enunciates.
flustered, you completely disregard the way your knees buckle at the endearment laced with that low voice of his, hitting his arm once more, earning a tiny 'ouch' from him.
“pervert. i want rest, not another round!”
“heh, i didn't say anything about another round, my perverted wife.”
“you—” you are abrupt cut off as you yelp in surprise when your feet are raised off the ground, your face now much closer to your husband's as he carries you gently in his arms.
“shhh, just let me take you to bed. if my wife was feeling terrible the whole day, she should've just told me in the first place so she could stay in, don't you think?”
he's right, but you're still angry. “shut up.”
“just letting you know i'm not completely at fault, wife.” you attempt to ignore the furious beating of your heart, face burning at his smug expression. “i'm not the only one who wanted it.”
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hsr version...? if i feel like it...🤔🤔
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rinhaler · 1 year ago
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DEATH IS NO MORE !
you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...
✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k
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As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.
You shouldn’t be here.
The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.
Is there a dress code?
That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.
The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.
You just couldn’t resist, this.
Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.
With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.
You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.
$100 for a ticket.
“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.
You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.
There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.
You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.
Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.
“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”
“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.
More like a warning.
“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.
You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.
The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.
There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.
Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.
And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.
A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.
The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.
As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.
But you scream.
Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.
Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.
Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.
There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.
He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.
“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.
“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.
“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.
It’s suffocating.
He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.
“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.
If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.
A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.
“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”
He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.
A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.
He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.
As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.
But you can’t.
Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.
“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.
“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.
“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.
“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.
He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.
You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.
He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.
“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”
“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.
“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.
He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.
Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.
“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”
“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”
“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”
“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.
“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”
“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.
But—
“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.
“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”
“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.
He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.
It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.
But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.
“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”
“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”
“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn’t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”
“That’s not—”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”
“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”
“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”
And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.
You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.
His arms almost cage you in.
Almost.
He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.
But you aren’t trying.
You’re just staring into his eye.
And he likes that.
“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”
“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.
“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.
He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.
You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.
Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.
“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.
Decide?
You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.
“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.
“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”
“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.
“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”
“No.”
“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”
“You said you’ll win.”
He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.
“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”
“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”
“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”
“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”
“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.
You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.
But he does.
The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.
“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”
And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.
He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.
You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.
“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.
“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”
He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.
“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.
You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.
A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.
It’s art, here.
Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.
It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.
You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.
But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.
Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.
And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.
You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.
He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.
This fight… it was on a whim.
Was it just to impress you?
He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.
And why…
Why are you loving this?
You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.
If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.
Watch him forever.
You’re sick.
This is sick.
“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.
Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.
“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”
“D… Don—”
“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.
Oh, he’s been paid.
He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.
It’s his height, you realise.
It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.
“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”
“No.”
“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”
“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.
His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?
“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”
“N-No.”
“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”
You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.
“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.
“That’s none of your—”
“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”
“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”
“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.
Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.
Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.
He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.
“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”
“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.
“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”
The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.
A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.
“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”
“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.
He doesn’t respect you, though.
Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.
“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.
“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.
He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.
“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.
“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.
No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.
They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.
And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.
He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.
“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.
And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.
“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”
“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.
He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.
“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”
“Wha—?”
“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”
You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.
“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.
But he doesn’t pull anything out.
Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.
Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.
His money.
And it’s everywhere.
You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.
“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.
And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.
The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.
“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.
He's yours.
“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.
But you don’t care.
You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.
“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you’d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”
“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.
“Yes what?” he repeats.
“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”
“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”
“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.
“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”
Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.
But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.
“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”
Fuck, Megumi.
You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.
“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”
“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”
You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.
“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.
“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”
“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.
He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.
He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.
“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.
He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.
“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.
“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.
“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”
You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”
“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.
You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.
Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.
You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.
“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.
He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.
The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.
“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.
“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.
Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.
You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.
“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.
“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.
“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.
You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.
So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.
“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”
“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.
“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”
“Obviously not, Megumi.”
“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”
“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”
“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.
“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”
“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.
Just like the fighting.
And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.
“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.
“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”
“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.
You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.
“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.
“… love you too… bitch.”
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© 2023 rinhaler
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m.list | chapter two
4K notes · View notes
jinwoosbabyboo · 3 months ago
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𝙸𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚢?
You're an actor and you finally got your big role in a hit TV show. Unfortunately your character only made it to Season 2 before they killed you off. This is how I imagine the lads men react to watching that scene [Requested by: Anon]
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𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎
calm cool and collected on the outside; whole time he's really having an internal breakdown
grips your hand a little tighter in his as the scene progresses
“are you dying? is this a tragedy?”
is very aware that it’s just a show, but can’t stop his heart from pounding at the thought of losing you
rubs his eyes to keep himself from tearing up
stares at you after the episode ends “What?” “The thought of losing you has always terrified me; watching you perform that scene does not help” “it’s my job Zayne besides im right here”
finds himself staring at you more often just trying to commit every feature of yours to memory
never willingly watches that episode again
skips over that part every time or just turns the show off “You still can’t watch it?” “No”
praises you for the phenomenal performance although he claims it was a little too realistic
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𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕
is great at slipping in and out of character so he was the one helping you with your acting skills
sits up straight when he realizes what's happening “is this the scene you've been keeping secret?”
falls out immediately in your lap
bawling his eyes out goes as far to curl up in your lap
would be so proud of not only you, but himself as well for helping you perfect your craft
“Do I get credit as the acting coach?” “Yes would you like a reward?” “You know I do”
Although he’s proud of you he can’t bring himself to watch the episode again also doesn't continue watching the show in general "they killed off my favorite character how can I continue watching it now?"
keeps pushing you to work on crying on command so if you need to cry for your next roll it’s even better
acted out the scene with you at home for fun once and had a mental breakdown
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𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛
Fell asleep in the middle of the show and missed it
“just watch it when you get a chance” “no replay it”
immediately turns the show off in the middle of the scene
“im not watching this” “Xav…” “No”
drills you with questions about why you didn’t tell him you were dying in that episode
“I can’t watch that don’t make me watch it” "You're being a little dramatic don't you think?"
pouts, pouts, and pouts some more
won’t watch it no matter how much you beg
although he never finished watching the whole scene he holds your hand tighter now these days
asks for a warning next time so he can prepare himself …… to fast forward
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𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜
watches quietly giving away nothing
“You even shed a few tears for your own scene?” teases you for crying at your own death scene “it looks different after the editing okay!”
won't admit it, but one time was enough
“it made you sad didn’t it?” “Well I don’t take pleasure in watching you die onscreen sweetie” “im alive though” “Let's keep it that way”
weasels his way out of watching the scene again
his voice slightly wavers whenever you bring it up
avoids eye contact when you tease him about it
held you tighter at night for at least a month
Bonus: the twins bawled their eyes out and tackled you to the ground with a bone crushing hug
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1K notes · View notes
lechrts · 7 days ago
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Tramp Stamp. ✷ Lando Norris
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Pairing: Lando Norris x Intern!reader
Summary: When he catches sight of something that he wasn’t supposed to see. Something “so out of character” of you.
Word Count: 1.2k
Disclaimer/s: banter blah blah blah black cat x golden retriever tbh, Idk, flirty lando, Mean!reader because that’s all i know
Vera's Voice! a recycled prompt i had been wanting to use for an original story but i have no time since i cant be free of the shackles i call school and work so i just made it a lando imagine. YUHHHH. + sorry for my hiatus. Wassup. i hope u enjoy ^_^
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The McLaren paddock was always buzzing with energy on a race weekend, but you barely noticed anymore. You were too focused on your job—an internship that demanded perfection, efficiency, and an unwavering dedication to details.
Unfortunately, no one seemed to have passed that memo to Lando Norris.
"You’re stalking me," You muttered, flipping through your clipboard as you strode through the garage, dodging mechanics and engineers.
"Following," Lando corrected, strolling beside you with way too much ease. "Completely different."
You stopped abruptly. He stopped too. You shot him a flat look. "You don’t even need to be here right now."
Lando smirked. “Aw come on, not enjoying our quality time?”
"Waste of time, actually." You scoffed, adjusting the clipboard in your arms. Lando gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like you’d just gravely offended him. "Wow. Harsh. I thought we were bonding."
You exhaled sharply, turning back to continue walking, attempting to wave him off. "Leave me alone, I’ve got work to do."
"And I have free time," He pointed out, easily keeping pace with you. "Which means I can spend it however I want."
"You want to spend it being an ass?"
"Of course." His grin was all mischief. "It’s my favorite pastime."
You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t slow down, weaving through the garage with practiced efficiency.
Lando, despite having no real reason to be there, stuck to your side like an overgrown puppy, dodging cables and stepping around mechanics with the kind of casual ease that made your irritation flare.
He lived to get under your skin.
"Hmm," He mused, leaning in just slightly, "You should try smiling more. I think it’d be good for you."
You didn’t even glance up. "You should try shutting up more. I think it’d be good for everyone."
Lando let out a bark of laughter. "So mean."
“Well, I’m certainly not trying to be nice.” You glance up, sending him a fake and sarcastic smile before your face deadpanned with cold eyes.
Lando clutched his chest dramatically. “You truly wound me.”
“God, save me.” You muttered, flipping a page on your clipboard.
Lando, of course, was unfazed and continued pressing. “To be honest, I think you secretly like this,” He mused.
You gave him a look. “Like what exactly?” Furrowing your eyebrows, not following where he was going with this.
“This.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Our little game.”
You stopped so abruptly that he almost walked into you. “What game? You mean me trying to do my job while you act like an overgrown toddler with too much money and free time?”
Lando grinned, rocking back on his heels. “So do you like it or no?”
You let out an exasperated sigh, turning sharply on your heel, and in your haste, your pen slipped from your grip.
It clattered to the floor and rolled just slightly out of reach.
Without thinking, you bent down to grab it.
But. There was a shift in the air. A second of silence too long.
Then—
“Oh.”
The single syllable carried so much smug amusement that your stomach dropped before you even straightened.
You turned slowly, and Lando was standing there, arms crossed, lips curled into a knowing smirk.
His eyes flickered downward—just briefly—before meeting yours again.
"Oh, correct me if I’m wrong," He drawled, "But was that a lower back tattoo?"
Your entire body stiffened.
You knew right then and there that your McLaren issued shirt had betrayed you. Probably riding up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the delicate little ribbon bow and butterfly inked on your lower back you had gotten back in high school.
Your fingers curled tightly around the pen, knuckles white as if you wanted to shove it into his throat. You fought to keep your face neutral, but the heat creeping up your neck was traitorous.
Lando’s smirk deepened.
You knew you should just ignore him. Keep walking. Act like you didn’t hear. But his tone—so goddamn amused and intrigued—was already sinking its hooks into you.
You straightened fully, lifted your chin, and shot back smoothly, “Maybe don’t stare at my ass?”
Lando’s grin was instant. “Not my fault it was right there.”
"You could’ve looked away."
"But then I would’ve missed the best part of my day," He quipped, eyes glinting with unfiltered delight. "Because never in a million years would I have guessed you had a tramp stamp."
You exhaled sharply, flipping back to your clipboard with forced nonchalance. "You saw nothing."
"I feel like there's a story behind it." He leaned in slightly, eyes practically gleaming. "And now I have to know."
"You have to shut up."
"Make me."
You inhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay composed. You refused to let him win.
Lando’s smirk widened like he could feel you getting flustered.
"Was it a dare?" He mused.
You ignored him, flipping a page.
"Drunken impulse?"
Silence.
"Rebellious phase?"
You turned sharply. "Lando."
"Hm?"
You briefly smiled, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Shut up."
"Can’t. I’m way too entertained at the moment."
"Oh, of course you would find this entertaining."
Lando grinned. "Come on, just tell me! I’ll drop it after."
"You never drop anything."
He sighed dramatically. "You know me too well."
“Unfortunately."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
"You know," He mused, rocking back on his heels, "It’s actually kind of hot."
Your brain short-circuited.
You nearly dropped your pen again.
"What?" You croaked.
Lando shrugged, far too nonchalant. "The tattoo. Didn’t expect it, but… yeah." He smirked. "Bit of a plot twist."
Your mouth opened—then closed. Then opened again. "You—I—what.”
He chuckled, watching your reaction unfold like it was the highlight of his day.
You refused to give him the satisfaction.
So, instead of responding, you lifted your clipboard and smacked him lightly on the arm.
Lando burst out laughing, clutching the spot like you’d actually hurt him.
"You’re an idiot," You muttered, turning away before he could see the hint of a smile threatening to break through.
Lando grinned after you, calling out, "I will get that story one day!”
And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as annoyed as you pretended to be.
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likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and pls Lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list
tags! @pedriache @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx
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bluebirdsfeathers · 22 days ago
Text
Corporate Life
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Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader
Summary: The disappointment of not being picked to be Wanda’s intern wasn’t going to stop you from settling into corporate life. Especially since you were assigned to work with her brother, Pietro, and she always found excuses to visit.
Words: 2.4k
Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), no smut here but we might get there later (no promises tho).
A/N: I have an essay due that is less words than this and yet here we are. I’m going to introduce more marvel character each part. I have no idea how many parts this will end up being, but I know how it will end.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
──────・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────
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──────・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────
The subway on a weekday morning was something you knew you’d never get used to. Everyone in a rush to get somewhere yet somehow nobody was moving even remotely fast. It was a miracle you’d gotten on a train and not just swept away by a mudslide of office workers. Heading into work you made you was straight to the elevators and back up to the third floor. Today you would be assigned to a department of the paper, and the anticipation was making you nervous. Unlike yesterday you were slightly early and where shocked to find you were the first one there. Taking a seat inside the conference room you were told to meet at, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling Instagram.
“I’ve never understood the obsession with social media,” A unfamiliar voice broke the silence, and you jumped slightly putting your phone down, “My apologies I thought you heard me come in.” Wanda smirked walking towards the other end of the long table, placing down some files, before walking back towards you. “I thought the paper was branching out into social media content?” Your voice came out a little higher than usual. Wanda stopped behind you placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a light squeeze “We are… but that has nothing to do with me.” She said with a laugh before leaving the room.
It wasn’t long before the rest of the interns showed up along with Dr Banner, as he told you to call him, who you’d met yesterday. He looked to be around fifty with greying hair and a permanently sad expression. One of the first things he’d done was list his multiple degrees and explain how he’d ended up working here as an environmental science editor. The Westview Paper was one of the oldest most prestigious news sources in the country, maybe even the world. It had been in the Maximoff family since the 1950s, now being run by Wanda since her father’s retirement. Today you would find out what department you would be interning in for the next six months. Dr Banner handed out an envelope to each intern, rambling on about how pointlessly dramatic this all was and how he had other more important things to do than this. Everyone was quick to open their envelopes, the wait was just too much.
Your file read ‘Sports and Fitness’ in bold at the top. You’d been on the women’s basketball team in college and had spoken about it in your interview, you loved sports so this should be a perfect fit, but you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed, she hadn’t picked you. “Lads look, I’m Wanda’s intern!” You turn to see Theo, who in this moment you decided you hated, holding up his file to the room looking far too smug. “I guess that proves I’m the alpha here.” You didn’t even entertain him with forced laughter like the others, you simply grabbed your bag and file and left to find a quiet spot to read. You discovered you’d be working for Pietro Maximoff, a quick google search told you that was Wanda’s brother and the head of that department. The file told you everything that would be expected of you over the next few months, some big and small goals as well as a weekly schedule that by the look of didn’t have you meeting with Pietro for a few hours.
To kill time, you decided to have a wonder around the building, the tour yesterday had given you a better understanding of the layout, but you still weren’t confident you could get from a to b without getting a little lost. Round every was another impossibly long corridor lined with doors and window into almost identical rooms that occasionally showed signs of life. As you rounded what must have been the fifth corner you saw a now familiar red head seemingly yelling at a room of men in suits. You stopped walking unsure whether to turn back or keep going like you hadn’t seen anything but before you could react the door to the room opened and the men hurried out, their heads held low like children after being told off. Your eyes went back to the room where Wanda stood, eyes closed, taking several slow deep breaths. Deciding it would be best to leave before you stumble upon something else you weren’t meant to see you turned around only to be stopped by Wanda calling your name.
“Y/n, what are you doing here?” It was hard to read her tone, and a pit formed in your stomach worried you’d upset her. “I was just… familiarising myself with the building. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” You stumbled all over your words. “I should go I need to meet Pietro soon and I…” Wanda’s eyes lit up and a smile graced her face “Of course you’re his intern, why don’t I walk you?” You tried to politely refuse her offer, not wanting to be a bother, but she out right refused to take no for an answer, especially after you let it slip you didn’t know where his office was. Turns out it wasn’t far, one floor down and across the walkway and you where there.
The sports department was unlike the other places you been shown so far. It was lively with open plan desks, no cubicles or grey walls, instead hanging around the room was a variety of different countries flags and sports team memorabilia. The staff talked freely amongst themselves; you expected the noise to die down when Wanda entered but it didn’t. You watched her talk with them and share a joke or two, a stark contrast to the rage you’d seen her display moments ago. “Now where is he?” She asked the man she’d been talking to.
“Wanda!” You heard an excited voice call from across the room, “Wands! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about this side of the building. We’re still being published right?” Pietro’s smile was the same as Wanda’s, warm with a slight hint of mischief. He was much taller than her, with bleach blonde hair and light stubble. “This must be y/n? Great to finally put a face to the name.” He said giving you a playful tap to the arm. “Look Wands I would love to catch up, but I need to get y/n settled.”
“Actually, there is something I need to talk to you about, but we need to discuss that in private. Can I steel you at some point tomorrow?”
“Yeah sure, you have my schedule so let me know when you are free.”
With that Wanda gave you both a smile and left.
Pietro made fast work of the power point he has prepared, and you were glad to hear business wear wasn’t mandatory in his department. Which was a relief as you only had two formal shirts and you’d already worn both. He sent you home early after reassuring you the missing hours wouldn’t come out of your wages and any disappointment over Wanda not picking you was gone. You were going to really enjoy having him for a boss.
The rest of the week went by quickly, you had so much work to be getting on with and so many people to get to know. Your desk was right by Pietro’s so he could keep an eye on you and help you when you needed it. You looked at the clock, it was quarter to five already, almost time to go home for the weekend. That was something you were excited about. This internship only had you working Monday to Friday, that meant you had the whole weekend to yourself. As you hit save for the last time on what you were working on you heard the door on the far end of the room open and looked up to see Wanda followed closely by Theo.
“Hi, Pietro, this is Theo, Theo this is my brother, Pietro. Y/n, you remember Theo, don’t you?” You nodded and watched as the two men shook hands. Yes, you did remember Theo, how could you forget a man that reminded you of all your high school bullies rolled into one and served with a silver spoon. “What do we owe the pleasure?” Pietro asked playfully.
“Oh, you know, just making the rounds, checking on all the new recruits at the end of the first week.”
“We are? I thought you said you needed to check on something important?” Theo said obliviously and Wanda gave a nervous laugh. “The wellbeing of my employees is important Theo. Now y/n how have you been?” You tried and failed to meet Wanda’s eyes as she gave you her full attention. “Good.” Was all you could squeeze out; you didn’t understand why she still made you so nervous. “He hasn’t been working you too hard has he.” Her voice was light and had the same playful tone as Pietro’s. Finally, you found it in you to look her in face and were surprised to see a slight blush that almost matched your own. “No, he hasn’t.” you said leaving an awkward silence in the air. “Well, we better head off, enjoy your weekend, and I’ll see you Monday.” Without another word Wanda left, Theo once again following closely behind.
It wasn’t long before the excitement and novelty of your new job wore off and all you longed for was the weekend. You’d gotten to know lots more faces around the office, even the lady at the front desk. You learnt her name was Pam and she wasn’t a huge bitch like you initially thought, she was just going through a divorce and her ex-husband, Jerry, was the worst. Somehow, you’d managed to develop a sense of normalcy working in this place. The only thing that kept you on edge were the surprise visits Wanda would do to the department; she was always finding a reason to come down here. Most made sense, like visiting her brother, checking on what stories were being published, but other times it felt like she was going out of her way to poke her head in seemingly just to talk to you, which hadn’t gotten easier yet.
Earlier today, while waiting for a copy of an article she’d tried to start a conversation with you. “I like your t-shirt.” Wanda said as she sat on your desk. “t-thanks, I like your blouse it’s… pink?” You said in return, unsure what to say. “What does it say? Radio head? I didn’t think young people listened to the radio these days.” She said lightly grazing her fingers across your arm. “Oh, Radio Head are a band… like music and stuff.” You shifted awkwardly in your chair, turning back to focus on your work. Pietro returned with the article and Wanda got up and left, giving you a light pat on the back as she walked past you.
The memory of that encounter played on your mind as you got ready to leave work for the day. “Y/n! Hey, I need to head to a meeting, I know you’re about to go home but can you go upstairs to Wanda’s office and drop this off? She needs to approve it before it goes to print.” Pietro handed you the latest copy of the sports news magazine, Wanda was big on seeing the final product physically before it was sent of to print so you agreed to drop it off in her office. She was never there anyway, far too busy to sit down with the election cycle going on. You headed to the lift pressing the very top button to take you all the way to the thirteenth floor, Pietro had given you his ID to get clearance to do so. Once the elevator doors opened, you walked into what looked like a living room, but what was just a very fancy looking wating area. There was a door to the left you assumed to be a bathroom and two large doors straight ahead that must lead to her office. You thought about whether to just leaving the magazine on the coffee table but before you could the large doors swung open.
“I don’t care who his father is! I’ve had enough of him! Who does he think he is anyway selling information to…” Wanda stopped her tirade when she saw you standing there with an expression of shock on your face. “Y/n? What are you doing up here?” She slightly snapped at you.
“Pietro told me to give you this.” You held out the magazine visibly trembling. “I’m sorry Ms Maximoff, I didn’t know you’d be here.” You voice shook slightly as you tried to stay calm while rapidly pressing the elevator button. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m leaving now.” The doors finally opened, and you hurried inside. “Y/n wait I didn’t mean to…” Wanda’s words were cut off by the doors closing as the lift took you back to the second floor. Breathing heavily, you tried to calm yourself down. You should have just dropped of the magazine and gotten out of there. Why must you always get yourself in these types of situations? You hoped it would be a while before you’d next see Wanda, maybe she would have forgotten all about it by then. Realising you were still clutching the magazine; you headed back to the sports department. Placing it on Pietro’s desk, along with his ID, you wrote a post-it note apologising, hoping he wouldn’t be too disappointed with you. All you could think about on your commute home was how angry Wanda looked over whatever it was she was yelling about. It scared you how she can be so warm and friendly one second then completely switch the next. Sometimes you forgot how rich and powerful she really was.
Once inside your apartment you kicked off your shoe’s and sat down on your mattress now being held up by your nice new bedframe. The money you’d earned from this job was improving your life greatly. You’d bought a new pair of trainers without having to wait for your current ones to be falling apart. If this mistake today ended up costing you your job, you’d never forgive yourself. Taking out your phone you decided to take your mind off things by clearing out some work emails you hadn’t gotten around to today but at the top of your inbox was a new message sent only five minutes ago. It was addressed to all the interns and marked urgent.
The subject read: ‘Meeting tomorrow 9am, Floor: 3 Room: 24B’. A new wave of panic washed over you when you saw it was sent by Wanda.
──────・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────
inspired by this post by @wandaslittlehorns
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gumify · 6 months ago
Text
20/20 feat. toji fushiguro ❝ BOYFRIEND!TOJI NEEDS GLASSES ?! ❞
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now playing… blind by role model.
summary. after months of denying his deteriorating eyesight, your boyfriend finally lets you drag him to an optometrist appointment.
tags. boyfriend!toji x fem!reader, fluff, some suggestive parts, established relationship, toddler!megumi being the cutiepie that he is, boyfriend!toji being everything a man should be (hot, blind, and utterly whipped).
wc. 2.6k
note. I ❤️ NERDS
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ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤyou heard that right.
boyfriend!toji, who very clearly needs reading glasses, but would rather take his blurry ass eyesight to the grave before ever accepting it.
boyfriend!toji, who always — always — asks you to read the labels on his food for him to make sure he’s getting the right amount of protein in or whatever. (he claims the tiny letters make his head hurt, but you like to tease and blame it on his age. he never laughs.)
boyfriend!toji, who is never not squinting. it’s pretty easy to see why people think your partner’s so intimidating, considering the fact that his already daunting eyes are narrowed into slits 24/7. most people you encounter on a daily basis probably think he’s internally cursing them… not that he minds. even if he had 20/20 vision, he’d probably be glaring at them anyways.
you first notice it on a night you’re cuddled up and watching a movie with him. boyfriend!toji’s leaned into the corner of your L-shaped couch as you nestle your head against his broad, firm chest — lifting it momentarily to gawk at the devastatingly hot specimen of man currently tracing patterns down your spine with his calloused fingertips. his face is pretty much devoid of any emotion, as it usually is whenever he’s fully relaxed; but you notice his gaze deviate every once in a while from the television, his almond-shaped eyes crinkling at the corners as his jade irises go in and out of focus.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“turn the sound up, dove.” toji murmurs, too comfortable in his current position to even think about reaching for the remote. spotting the way your lips twist into a stubborn (but no less pretty, mind you) pout, he huffs. “... please.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“but ‘m too lazyyy.” you whine.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“so am iii.” he replies, kicking up the pitch of his normally husky voice to playfully match that of your protest.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“hmpf. aren’t you the man, anyways?” you counter, poking him in his pecs to emphasise your point. “all the labourful work’s on you, babe. ‘m literally just a girl.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“thought y’said we should abolish gender roles.” he drawls.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“… not this one.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“that doesn’t sound very fair.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“tojiii!” you roll your eyes, “we don’t even need to turn the volume up — jus’ read the subtitles!”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ya’ mean the size five ass writing at the bottom of the screen?” he scoffs, “i don’t have x-ray vision, dove.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“x-ray vision wouldn’t even—” you stop yourself short, choosing to save yourself the middle school science lesson and shaking your head at your boyfriend’s antics instead. “the subtitles are perfectly visible. you just need glasses.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“wha—” he sits straight up, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “no i don’t.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“yes you do.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“no i don’t.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“yes you do.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“no i d—”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“it’s past midnight, toj’!” you tut, “last time we turned the volume up this late, we got a noise complaint, remem—”
toji cuts you off by squishing your cheeks together with his thumb and forefinger, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pucker and planting an equally dramatic mwaaah against them with his own.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“do you remember why we had to turn it up in the first place, hm?” he teases, giving you another softer peck before releasing you from his grip. “don’t think it was the movie they were complainin’ about, dove.”
ugh. he always knows how to shut you up.
you make it your life’s mission for the next week to make boyfriend!toji realise just how blind he really is. and you don’t have to do much, seeing as he only further proves your point himself.
for example, boyfriend!toji asks you how many boxes of strawberries you’d like him to pick up at the grocery store one day. too immersed in your morning reading to give him a proper reply, you hold up three fingers from across the room. he comes home with five.
boyfriend!toji misreads a sign on the highway later that weekend — which leads to him taking a wrong exit, and the two of you showing up to your fancy dinner reservation half an hour late. you end up spending date night eating mcdonald’s in the backseat of his volkswagen instead. (greeeat.)
boyfriend!toji damn near kills one of megumi’s friends who’s over for a playdate the following week. the little boy’s mother had talked his ear off at the front door about her son’s plethora of life-threatening allergies — even given him a list she’d taken upon herself to print out beforehand — and he still managed to miss the ‘MAY CONTAIN NUTS’ warning plastered on the chocolate bar in bold red lettering. if you hadn’t come to the rescue, practically diving headfirst into the living room and snatching the confectionary from the child’s grip, you imagine his mother would most definitely have the both of your heads on a platter by now. (phew.)
so boyfriend!toji finally gives in, letting you drag him along to one of your optometrist appointments for a check-up.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“this is dumb.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“just read as many letters as you can from the screen, mr. fushiguro.”
“… what is this, pre-school?”
“toji.”
the man slumps back against the optometrist’s padded chair at the sound of your voice, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a silent little hmpf before doing as he’s told.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“a, f, g, k… e, t, o, d, z… p, m, j, f, l — this is so stupid — n, r, s.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“good. now onto the next level.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“uhhh…” you watch your boyfriend’s everpresent confidence begin to falter at this stage, brows furrowing as he squints against the darkness of the small room. “m… f… c? uhhh, no — that’s an o. wait! actually — a d.”
you stifle a giggle at the scene unfolding before you, and he shoots you a warning glare.
“keep going, mr. fushiguro.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“that’s a… k… then a z…” you swear he’s just making up letters at this point, “and— the fuck, is that a hexagon?!”
with the click of a button, your optometrist fishes out a sheet of paper and slaps it down on the table next to him.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“your prescription will be ready soon.”
boyfriend!toji, who picks up his new glasses the following week — a standard rectangular pair with black frames that you helped him choose.
boyfriend!toji, who quite literally tells you to wait outside as he tries them on for the first time in your shared bedroom, locking the door behind him as if he were going into some sort of top secret mission.
boyfriend!toji, who refuses to come out for the next ten minutes.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“toji, this is ridiculous.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“i look like a fuckin’ incel!”
you give the doorknob another jiggle; yet, still, he doesn’t budge.
“unlock the damn door, fushiguro!” you huff, “i need to get ready for bed!”
a short pause.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“… fine.” you hear your boyfriend murmur. followed by the sound of his footsteps treading closer to the door, the knob turning slowly before he adds, “promise y’er not gonna laugh.”
you roll your eyes, “sure.”
and then the door peels open to reveal… well, what might just be your newest obsession.
the stark black frames do nothing to mask the stubborn blush tinting toji’s cheeks but goddamn, do they compliment the rest of his features well.
they’re not too chunky, nor too thin; just the perfect amount of thickness to emphasise the angles of that strong jawline, those prominent cheekbones, and the pair of brows almost always raised in sinister jest. his eyes also look darker, sharper — if that’s even possible — flecks of emerald in his irises brought to life by the viridescent sheen of the lens.
fuck, your boyfriend’s so hot.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ya’ think so?”
you blink a couple times, too distracted by the man’s new look to realise you had voiced that last thought fact aloud. but if the way his subtle frown morphs into a shit-eating smirk is anything to go by, he’s most definitely caught on to the effect it has on you.
and oh, does he love it.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“cat got your tongue, dove?” toji hums, the hellish glint in his eyes magnified by the lenses. “c’mooon, say something. y’er lookin’ at me like i’m a piece of damn meat.”
it’s true.
you should be ashamed of the way you’re blatantly staring at him as if you’re a hormonal middle schooler catching a glimpse of the opposite gender for the first time — but you can’t find it in yourself to care. not when your man looks this fine. and certainly not when it’s already taking everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping onto the ground and drooling all over the place.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“still nothin’?” toji pouts mockingly. “aw, y’er breakin’ my heart here. don’t tell me my girl doesn’t want me anymore?”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“shut up, toj’.”
he pushes the glasses further up the bridge of his nose. a statement.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“or you must reaaally like ‘em, huh? got ya’ all speechless and i didn’t even do anything. but i bet you’d just looove to—”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“toji.”
he raises a brow. a challenge.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“bed. now.” you blurt out, much to the protest — or could it be encouragement? — of your own deafening pulse. you bite your lip before adding, “… n’ keep the glasses on.”
again, toji smirks. that goddamn smirk.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“yes, ma’am.”
truth be told, neither you nor boyfriend!toji could have anticipated the effects of a pair of measly glasses. (five rounds, then another two in the shower, actually.) but one thing’s for certain — now, he wears them around with a newfound pride.
the first time boyfriend!toji comes home from a particularly challenging job not only battered and bruised, but battered and bruised in his equally damaged glasses, your eyeballs almost pop out of their fuckin’ sockets. he stands in the doorway with his chest heaving; one of the lenses of his glasses cracked; slashes of crimson adorning his brow, cheek, and even that signature scar decorating his now-bloody lips. you have no idea whether to feel concerned, or truly deplorable amounts of turned on — probably a little bit of both. and that you most definitely are.
when boyfriend!toji lets you pick out his outfit for dinner at your parents’ house, you’re practically bouncing off the walls in excitement. you land on a safe option — a creamy knit sweater that hugs his muscular build oh-so deliciously, paired with some black slacks and, of course, his glasses. he looks so… sophisticated like this, you think. so handsome. you can barely keep your eyes off him for more than two seconds as he helps your father clear the table and converses with your mother over a glass of merlot.
and don’t even get you started on megumi’s recently developed habit of climbing atop boyfriend!toji’s lap to toy with the frames in his lil’ hands. the sight alone is enough to make you melt — every. single. time. and even more so when the kid decides to steal the glasses off of his father to wonkily place them on himself, giving you a gap-toothed grin across the room as you feel your heart swell at the uncanny resemblance.
see, these are only some of the very many reasons you happen to love boyfriend!toji’s new at-home look… though for him, it all comes down to one thing.
boyfriend!toji comes to this epiphany a couple of weeks after his first trip to the optometrist. megumi’s sleeping over at a friend’s place, so you and him decided to make the most out of the free night. namely, by hitting a swanky new speakeasy in town and letting loose for once in a blue moon.
alas, boyfriend!toji’s not the drinker he used to be — which means you’re nursing the man back home after no more than three and a half whiskey highballs at the ripe ol' time of 10pm.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“fuuuck, my head’s spinnin’.”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ya’ big baby.” you tease, earning a distasted scowl from your boyfriend. “okay, okay - where are your glasses? ‘s not helping that you can’t see straight enough sober.”
toji barely manages an “mph.” in reply, murmuring something that vaguely sounds like “— bedroom… top drawer…” before slumping against the couch like a giant ragdoll.
by the time you return with his glasses in hand, he’s still letting out tipsy grumbles into the empty air. drama queen, you think, walking up ‘til you’re right in front of him and bending down to meet him at eye-level from his position on the couch to slide them into place yourself.
your heart does the usual thing it does whenever you see toji in his glasses — or toji at all, for that matter — and the way he’s looking at you through his thick lashes and heavy-lidded gaze isn’t helping.
immediately, something clicks.
toji’s eyes widen enough behind the lenses for you to see his pupils dilate, and before you know it, he’s got your face cradled in his hands.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“toj’—”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“my god, woman…”
he’s nothing short of mystified. your brows knit in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour, but he’s too lost in his own mind — in you — to offer any sort of explanation.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“have you always been this pretty?”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“w— what?”
you’re unable to suppress the giggle forming in your chest at toji’s words, but he’s being dead serious. you cock your head to the side ever so slightly and he gifts you with a light peck on the corner of your lips.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“i mean it.” he says so sincerely it almost makes you wonder what the fuck has gotten into him. (most probably the highballs, but you digress.)
he doesn’t even look tipsy anymore. well, not on the alcohol, at least. he pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose, the stare framed oh-so prettily behind them now beyond blown out. his hands are so big yet so gentle; able to ghost the slopes of your facial features with his thumbs whilst still keeping your face still and focussed on him at the same time.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“y’make me feel so lucky, dove…”
you start to shy away under the intensity of it all, but toji doesn’t let up. his eyes are everywhere — it’s as if he’s searching for something; or, better yet, memorising it.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen…”
it’s been too long since he’s gotten a chance to look at you; really look at you — the subtle beauty marks that sprinkle your skin, the lines decorating the outer corners of your pretty eyes and lips that serve as a testament of all the times he’s made you smile, and all the other tiny details that make you… well, you — in all of your 20/20 glory.
it always feels like the first time.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“i love you s’much, my beautiful girl.” he kisses the words into your skin, each one as reverent as the last. “never forget it.”
boyfriend!toji, who makes sure to get his eyes checked at least twice a year now — because there’s no chance in hell he’s letting himself miss out on any of this again. ㅤ
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