#he’d also be able to bench press him

[blitzy-blitzwing]

Blitzwing might be able to eat Alastor since he's physically stronger

He could also carry him. 😀

[starmapz]

what you know - ch10: miscalculation || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.5k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

The campus feels quieter than usual without Sukuna’s presence. It’s not as though he’s particularly loud or boisterous, he simply demands attention with his demeanor. Of course, you knew he wouldn’t be at lunch, but it doesn’t change the fact that you find yourself drifting away from the topic at hand quite frequently. Uraume, sitting in what’s usually Sukuna’s seat, finds themself nudging you every so often just so that your friends can hold your attention for a few moments.

But Shoko and Kento can only pull you aside so many times. It’s not like you’re unhappy, so they can’t be upset with you, but it doesn’t ease their concerns.

As the lunch hour ends and you snap a lid over your tupperware, you’re surprised when Toji drops a strong hand over the container, staring at you intently to stop you from getting up. Peering at him with a raised brow, you tilt your head.

“Got a minute?”

“Um- yeah,” you smile, peeking at the time on your phone. “I have a few minutes before class.”

“Great.” Toji pushes to his feet, letting you throw the container he’d held down into your bag before leading the way out into the frigid air. Your breath billows around you as you trail after Toji’s long strides. Finding a spot with an overhang, he takes a seat on a dry bench pressed against the brick of the lunch hall. It’s not warm, but at least it’s free from snow. You take a seat beside him, kicking at a pebble by your foot.

You’re thoroughly ready for winter to be over, sick of the chilly walks between classes and waiting for your car to warm up. Nothing sounds nicer right now than being able to go back to cute sundresses and shorts with a tank top, only needing to throw on a hoodie during cool mornings and nights.

Turning your attention to Toji on your right, you shoot him a curious smile. “What’s up, Toji?”

“Sorry ‘bout yesterday,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. As usual, it falls back into his face, clearly bothering him as he scowls at the feeling of raven strands tickling the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine,” you mirror his sigh. “It’s not your fault. He’s like that,” you shrug.

Toji rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no fuckin’ kidding.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans back against the brick wall. His unimpressed emerald eyes train on a dripping icicle clinging to the overhang above. “Who else knows ‘bout the kids?”

You hesitate, not really sure it’s your place to say, but you also get the feeling that Toji has no intention of backing down. Toji is the emphatic version of Sukuna, with all the attitude, but lacking in stoicism. He’s far more vocal with his disdain than Sukuna usually is.

“Uraume, Shoko, and Kento know.”

“Shoko and Kento?” He parrots in disbelief. “Oh yeah, let’s tell the whole fuckin’ peanut gallery, but not Toji.” He puffs out a breath of air, rolling his eyes. “Shit, I knew the fucker didn’t care ‘bout me, but he ain’t close to them either,” he huffs, pulling his hood up over his head. “Nothin’ against y’r friends. Sometimes I just feel so fuckin’ stupid when it comes to that dumbass.”

“I get it.” You kick your heel against the packed snow at your feet, staring at the indentation left behind. “I think he still cares about you,” you offer, though there’s not much else to be said in Toji’s favor about the situation. “He’s just…”

“An asshole,” he snorts, leaning forward on his knees.

With a tight-lipped smile, you lean back against the rough bricks behind you, understanding immediately why Toji isn’t leaning back anymore. It isn’t particularly comfortable. “Was he different when you guys were kids?”

“Mmm…” Toji hums in thought, tilting his head side to side as though to say ‘somewhat’. “He’s never been a saint, but Jin kept ‘im in line. We played a lot of basketball, his kid brother liked watchin’.” Toji smiles to himself, the scar on his lip stretching. “He was always a bit more into skatin’ and art than sports, though. He had every old court tagged somewhere.”

You tilt your head curiously, engrossed in learning more. “Tagged?”

Toji smirks, tilting his head to get a better look at you. “Graffiti.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widen, glimmering as you learn more about a younger Sukuna, before he became so jaded. “Was he always quiet?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t say he was chatty, but he wasn’t so tough to have a conversation with. He was always draggin’ me along to some new place he wanted t’ paint,” Toji gruffs, raising a hand to his chin to scratch at faint stubble. “Always thought it was weird he just stopped wantin’ to do anything. Guess I know why now,” he sighs, idly moving to pick at his nails, which are already fairly destroyed.

“I’m really sorry, Toji. It sounded like Jin meant a lot to you.”

With a long, deep inhale, Toji nods. “Yeah. Yeah, he did. Always will.” He swallows hard, harshly rubbing his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was about to cry. He doesn’t seem like he’s the type to cry often, but if Jin was as much of a father to him as he’d made it sound, you can only imagine he’s more beat up than he’s letting on.

The raven-haired man lets his hair drape over his face as he leans on his knees, his gaze glued to the ground. You’re keen enough to notice that it seems like he’s attempting to mask how upset he truly is, but you don’t know him well enough to offer much more than words of sympathy.

“I always wondered what happened f’r him to change so much. God-” Toji shakes his head, rubbing his face against the back of his forearm. “He’s such a fuckin’ prick. I knew Jin got sick but I never thought-”

Whether his voice breaks or he cuts himself off, you aren’t sure. With your brow drawn together as you listen intently, all you can do is watch as he turns his head away.

Toji clears his throat, his gaze kept firmly on the ground. “Did you talk to ‘im after I left?”

“A bit. He told me you guys didn’t talk about that sort of stuff when I asked why he didn’t tell you.”

Toji shoots you a look of utter disbelief, his lip curling in frustration as he narrows his gaze. You see now that his eyes have a red sheen to them. “That was his excuse?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you shrug.

“Christ,” he groans. “What a dumbass. Guess Jin takin’ me in every time I got kicked out didn’t mean anything to ‘im.”

You chew on your lip, uncertain of how to answer that. Clearly things are a bit more gray than how Sukuna considered their friendship, but you can’t exactly say where you stand when it comes to being in the middle of them. Toji’s unequivocally in the right to be every bit frustrated with Sukuna, but you hardly know the man.

Sighing, Toji pulls his phone from his pocket, getting to his feet. “I gotta get to class. Thanks for this.”

“Sounds good!” You get to your feet as well, getting ready to make your way to class. “Oh-! Um, Toji?”

The raven-haired man doesn’t say anything, turning to face you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and a look of mild discontentment. You pull your bag strap up over your shoulder, clinging to it tightly.

“Please don’t give up on him. He needs the help.”

Toji’s sharp gaze flickers between yours, examining the curl of your brow as you hopefully fiddle with the fabric beneath your fingertips.

Blowing out a breath of air from his nose, he shoots you a half-hearted smirk before turning to walk towards his class with a wave.

You pray to whoever will listen that that’s Toji’s version of saying he’ll hear you out.

–

The past week after your chat with Toji has not been kind to you, and as you wait for Sukuna to open his door late in the evening, you find yourself just about ready to pass out. You want to lean your head on the door and let sleep take you right then and there, but at least you can get some rest soon- even if it will be strange falling asleep in a foreign environment- Sukuna’s apartment.

As Sukuna swings the door open, clad in his blue polo that looks painfully out of place on his bulky form, you can tell he’s as gassed as you are. His eyes travel the length of your body, something that makes you blush more than you maybe should, as you know he’s just evaluating that you’ve had as long of a day as he has, based on the business attire beneath your jacket.

Still, his eyes linger on the pencil skirt just long enough that you think you’re fooling yourself.

Swallowing, you smile as you push past him without a word, catching even Sukuna off-guard as your usual sunny disposition is replaced with a yawn and a drag of your feet. He shuts the door, trailing behind you and catching your gaze where your dark circles are just as apparent as his.

“If I’m askin’ too much of you-”

“I’m fine, Kuna,” you yawn, using your sleeve to cover it before shrugging the coat off. Setting it on the back of the couch, you tilt your head with a mild smile. “Just tired.”

“Mm.” Sukuna idly hums, raising the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Are you-? Stop it, I’m not sick.” You swat his hand away, sticking out your bottom lip dramatically.

Sukuna’s chest rumbles in a low chuckle. “Alright, alright. Just lookin’ out for ya.”

Hugging your arms around yourself, you plop down on the couch behind Yuji and Choso, who are sitting on the floor in front of your old GameCube as they contemplate what game to play for their last couple of hours before you have them get ready for bed. You frown at the sight of Choso, who seems to languidly agree with anything Yuji chooses.

Sukuna leans over the back of the couch by your shoulder, holding himself up on his forearms. “That Animal Crossing game you left here, it had a memory card in the case, they found your file.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “you called yourself ‘Flower’.”

Giggling, you tilt your head to better see him. “Really?”

“Mhm. You were dressed in all pink with little pigtails.”

“That… Sounds about right,” you grin, unable to help it as you continue giggling at the thought. “I stopped playing because one of the cat villagers made me cry. My mom took the game away and I didn’t find it again until I moved out.”

Sukuna’s lips purse as he stares at you. “A cat made you cry?”

“They were mean in that game!”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Sure they were, flower.”

“I’m begging you not to call me that,” you whine.

“Dunno, it kinda fits,” he hums impishly, giving your shoulder a nudge. He’s so close that his breath tickles your neck.

You shove his bicep in return, catching him off-guard just enough to have him stumbling to keep himself upright. He chuckles to himself, standing straight and stretching his arms over his head. Your eyes trail down to the way the shirt rides up, revealing his toned abdomen and- oh god stop thinking about his salmon-toned happy trail. Tearing your gaze away, you stare at the pile of games on the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Sukuna relents with a chuckle, your wandering eyes going unnoticed. “Washed the sheets for ya, you know where everything else is.”

You hum, nodding your head along gratefully. 

“Tired, princess?”

You nod again, yawning as you’re reminded of your drowsiness. “Yeah, I was shadowing all day. It’s stressful.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he shuffles around behind you, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge to toss into his work bag.

“Mhm. My co-worker was practically drilling me with questions all day.”

“I’m sure ya did good,” he grunts, taking a final look around the apartment. There’s something strange about leaving at nine at night rather than three or four, but the sight of you, with a tired, albeit content expression, curled into the corner of his couch in your work attire seems to light something within him.

His stomach churns uncomfortably, as though something is trying to break free from his gut. He brings a hand up to scratch beneath the polo, telling himself it’s just the material of the shirt, but he can’t deny the way he can’t seem to tear his gaze from you. Your attention is on Yuji and Choso, your arms wrapped around yourself and legs pulled up onto the couch in the comfiest fashion you can manage with a pencil skirt on.

He clears his throat, dragging a hand down his face. Christ, he’s tired too. It’ll be a long night.

Making his way to the door, he casts a glance at his brothers before fixing you with his stare. “I’ll see ya in the morning. Let me know if you need anything.”

You tilt your head briefly given that you’ve never been able to contact him at work, before your eyes light up with realization. “I can text you now!” You gasp excitedly.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” Sukuna grumbles as he closes and locks the door behind him.

Unfortunately for him, you would make a habit of it.

For now though, you turn your attention to the boys, stifling a yawn. “If you two choose something multiplayer, I’ll join you.”

Now at the center of the kids’ attention, you can see the way Yuji’s eyes light up instantly, while Choso’s reaction is far more subtle. His hands still, no longer occupied with a button on his deep purple plaid shirt sleeve. It’s hardly worth calling progress, but it’s a sign he finds comfort in your presence, and you’ll take that.

Yuji flips a couple of games over, separating any that allow three players before he’s left with Super Smash Bros. Melee, Mario Party 6, Ribbit King, and MarioKart.

“What’s this?” He asks, holding up the case for Ribbit King to you.

“That’s a golf game,” you explain, “with frogs instead of balls. Frog golf.”

“Frolf!” Yuji exclaims with a grin. You catch a glimmer of amusement in Choso’s expression as he shares a more subdued version of his brother’s sentiment.

Popping the disc into the system, you slide off the couch onto the ground, where both kids join you as you lean against the couch. Yuji immediately leans into you, holding the orange controller that’s become his favorite since you’d left the system at their house.

As the game boots up and you each choose your characters and frogs, it takes only a moment before the boys have a decent grasp on the mechanics. Falling into competitive banter with Yuji comes fairly easily, and to your delight, every so often even Choso chimes in.

Yuji pulls ahead fairly handily before you know it, leaving you and Choso to compete for second place. After a close competition, the middle brother manages to just barely pull ahead of you in points, leaving you in last place. As the podium pops onto the screen and your penguin character dips its head in defeat, Yuji bounds up excitedly before hopping into your lap.

With a brief oof at the force that Yuji uses to collapses against you, you find yourself giggling at the boy’s glee.

It doesn’t matter how tired you are, Yuji is a bundle of joy and his happiness is infectious. You pull Choso into the hug, praying the happiness is infectious to him as well. He may not display the same jovial expression that you or Yuji do, but he does hug you both back with enough force that tells you that if nothing else, he appreciates the effort to include him.

“Good job Yu, you make a good golfer,” you pat his back lightly.

He pulls back with a pointed stare. “Frolfer.”

Amused, you blow a puff of air through your nose. “Right. Frolfer.” Yuji pushes himself to his feet, plopping down in front of the stack of games again. His little hands flip each case as he examines them. “Did you want to play something else?” You query, watching Choso carefully as he slips back into his spot beside you with a distant expression.

“I wanna play what Cho wants to play!” Yuji insists, a hopeful expression crossing his face.

Your lips part at what would usually be a kind action from a little brother, but the context behind his words makes it feel more like pleading. A hopeful action to bring his older brother back, even if only for a moment.

Choso’s sullen gaze trails slowly from Yuji to the pile of games, lingering on the stack. When the moment draws on a second too long, the little boy deflates.

“Cho?” Yuji leans forward on his knees, staring down sadly at the pile of games. His thumbs smooth over the case in his hands, before he sets it aside and drags himself across the floor until he’s seated on his knees in front of his older brother.

With a frown that mirrors Yuji’s, you set a hand on Choso’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you wanna talk, Choso?” You try to encourage him, pulling him from whatever stupor he was trapped within. There may be fleeting moments of amusement or appreciation here and there, but the young boy rarely seems present.

Choso rubs his nose with the back of his hand, blinking at the stack of cases on the floor. “Um- whatever Yuji wants is-”

“I wanna play what you wanna play,” Yuji pouts, his tone now laced with desperation as he drags the stack of games towards his big brother. His lip wobbles as he holds up a Sonic game, to be met only with indifference. He blinks away tears, setting the case down, only to hold up a Mario game. Met with the same indifference, his whole body trembles.

You swear it all happens in the blink of an eye.

At the sight of the Yuji’s trembling hands and wide-eyed expression, Choso scrambles to keep his brother happy, stammering over words as he attempts to sate his brother’s sadness, but it’s too late. Yuji bursts into sobs, crying loudly about missing his brothers, which in turn causes Choso to pull his knees into himself, hiding the silent tears that fall down his face as well as guilt swirls in his eyes.

You scramble to pick up the pieces as quickly as possible, wrapping an arm around Yuji and pulling him into a tight hug. You attempt to do the same for Choso, but he stiffens to prevent you from doing so. Recognizing that he doesn’t want or need the same attention as Yuji, you opt for simply sitting beside him with Yuji in your lap.

You’ve noticed Choso tends to prefer talking things out, and in all honesty you think all three of the brothers could use a could talk. That’s a tough sell with Sukuna though, so you’ll settle for two out of three.

You soothingly hush Yuji, rubbing his back gently as he clings to you, no doubt staining your dress shirt in tears and snot. You’d likely need a trip to the laundromat for it, but it hardly matters when your heart squeezes at the melancholic sobs that fill the air.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” you coo softly, eyeing Choso to make sure he’s not getting any worse either. You suck in a deep breath to soothe your own nerves, giving Yuji a reassuring squeeze as his sobs slowly begin to die down.

Once the apartment is filled only with sniffles and not sobs, you gently place Yuji on the ground beside Choso, who looks up at you for reassurance. You force your best smile, patting his back softly before turning to Choso.

From what you can tell, his tears are dried and he’s simply staring blankly at his arms curled around his knees now.

“Yuji, have you told your brother how you feel?” You ask softly. Choso’s head raises slightly as he listens to you.

Yuji shakes his head through silent tears.

“It’s important to communicate how we’re feeling when something’s wrong,” you tell him with a small smile, motioning towards Choso. “Why don’t you tell Choso?”

Choso’s auburn gaze flickers between you and Yuji, waiting as his little brother’s face scrunches up into an expression fitting of a five-year-old deep in thought.

Once he’s decided on his words, he looks up at his brother with teary eyes, his little hands fiddling with the game case on the floor in front of him. “I miss you, Cho. You never wanna play with me anymore.” Yuji mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand.

Choso sniffles, raising his head. “I’m sorry, Yu.” He curls into himself further if that’s even possible, guilt pulling his face into a scowl reminiscent of Sukuna. It’s easy to forget those two are related until Choso mirrors one of Sukuna’s expressions so perfectly.

“Do you wanna tell your brother what’s going on, Choso?” You encourage him, setting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Um-” Choso buries his face into his arms, his brows pulled together so tightly you’re certain he’s giving himself a headache. “I don’t feel very good,” he admits, his words muffled against the sleeves of his shirt.

“You’re sick?” Yuji tilts his head in confusion.

Choso shakes his head. “I’m…” he pauses, glancing up at you. “Scared,” he admits.

“Why?” Yuji wastes no time in demanding answers, shuffling closer on his knees to Choso.

“I don’t wanna lose Kuna,” Choso admits, leaning his face into his shoulder to wipe a tear that rolls down his cheek.

“But we won’t,” Yuji pulls himself forward over the hardwood again, tugging at his brother’s arm lightly. “Kuna never loses. He’s the best.”

You can’t help but smile at Yuji’s confidence, which seems to encourage Choso, even if only a little bit. Choso lifts his head, blinking in thought at the pink-haired little boy. Even with a face covered in tears and snot, it’s hard not to believe every word the pink-haired kid says.

As Yuji continues tugging at Choso’s arm, the brunette finally relents, letting his brother tug him into a hug. When Choso pulls back, he slumps against the couch again, a hint of life breathed back into him.

“It’s okay to be sad, Choso, but it’s important to talk about your feelings to others like you do with me,” you encourage him with an understanding smile.

Choso swallows hard, nodding slowly. He blinks at the ground, doing somewhat of a mental reset, before he points at the stack of games with a sniffle. “Let’s play Mario Party.”

Yuji’s eyes light up as he sets up the game while Choso wipes the tears from his face.

“I’m proud of you, Choso. It takes courage to talk about your feelings.”

Choso shoots you a half-hearted smile with tired eyes, serving as a reminder of just how worn out you all are.

“One short game and then it’s bedtime, okay boys?”

“Okaaaaay,” Yuji agrees, though his expression mirrors the exhaustion across Choso’s. The crying had clearly tired them both out, and while normally you would have them go to bed right away, you’re pretty sure they need a fun game before bed.

While the boys play games, you get up to change into an oversized tee that’s free of tears and a pair of shorts, grabbing a tissue and wiping Yuji’s face, much to his dismay as he groans and complains the whole time.

Planting yourself back on the couch, you pull up Sukuna’s contact, and shoot him a text.

Thursday 9:42 PM - You || hey, not urgent but wanted to let you know what happened!

Thursday 9:43 PM - You || the boys had a bit of a meltdown because choso’s been so quiet, but i think everything’s okay now

You lock your phone and set it in your lap as you turn your attention to the screen. Choso’s still clearly down and not himself, but you can see the effort going into giving Yuji the sense of normalcy he’s desperate for. Although you can see Choso’s needing to force himself out of his shell, you’re reassured that this is good for him when for the first time in what feels like ages, he laughs.

Your lips quirk up into a genuine smile at the sight of Choso’s sleepy grin, just as your phone vibrates in your lap.

Thursday 9:59 PM - Kuna || okay. let me know if they give you more trouble

Thursday 9:59 PM - You || i can handle them, no worries! :)

With the game coming to a close and no meltdowns even as Yuji steals Choso’s stars in the game at the last second and pulls off a win, you urge them to get ready for bed. Neither boy had given you a hard time as Yuji tended to, far too worn out from the emotional day to protest.

With the boys in bed, you set your overnight bag down on the washroom counter and lean over the sink, fairly worn out yourself. You can see the effects of the day on your face, dark circles under your eyes and makeup in disarray, having been done well over fifteen hours ago.

So much for the twenty-four-hour long-lasting guarantee they promise. What a lie.

Dragging your hands over your face, you lean on the edge of the sink, letting the seconds tick by as you grapple with your own emotions.

You spend so much time treading carefully around the three boys in an attempt to help them as best as you’re able that sometimes you forget to check in with yourself mentally. Between Sukuna’s increasing snappiness and the two boys learning to handle their fear, grief, and concern, you’ve hardly had a moment to yourself. That’s not even beginning to mention classes, studying, and your internship.

You can only pray the bubble doesn’t pop. You need to keep up being strong until the court date, then you can relax.

Once that’s over, you’re certain things will be alright.

Giving yourself a moment to reset and take a breather, you slow down as you dig into your bag and handle your skincare and hair routines, taking a moment to indulge in the self care of it all. It’s refreshing and allows you a moment of peace, a moment to simply be and take care of yourself, something you can’t help but feel you’ve neglected to do as of late.

As you finish up your hair routine, you open the pocket where your toothbrush should be, only to come up short. Blinking, you dig through your bag in search of it, when you realize where it is.

On the counter.

At your own apartment.

Quietly groaning, you pull out your phone again.

Thursday 10:46 PM - You || hey kuna?

Whether he’s on his break or just has his phone on him, you’re not sure, but he answers quickly.

Thursday 10:48 PM - Kuna || what now

Thursday 10:48 PM - You || i forgot my toothbrush :( do you have an extra?

Thursday 10:49 PM - Kuna || no

Thursday 10:49 PM - Kuna || dont fucking touch mine

Thursday 10:49 PM - You || rude

Thursday 10:50 PM - Kuna || use your finger

Thursday 10:50 PM - You || :(

Frowning at your options, you tap your fingers on the washroom counter in thought.

Thursday 10:51 PM - You || do you have mouthwash?

Thursday 10:53 PM - Kuna || you know im working right

Thursday 10:53 PM - Kuna || under the sink

Thursday 10:53 PM - You || thank you!!

Opening the cupboard beneath the sink, your eyes scan the mess of shampoos, aftershave, replacement razor heads and various other hygiene products. Off to one side, you spot some mouthwash and a bag from a dentist with a toothbrush concealed within, brand new.

And it’s pink. Cute!

Thursday 10:55 PM - You || i found a toothbrush under the sink, can i use it? i’ll pay you back!

Thursday 10:55 PM - Kuna || whatever

Under the assumption that means he doesn’t really care one way or the other, you crack open the packaging, relieved that you won’t need to quickly run to your apartment in the morning before class. There is no way in hell you could go without a toothbrush for that long.

Dumping your belongings back into your bag, you push into Sukuna’s room, taking a look around. It’s not like you haven’t been here before, but it has a different feel now that you’ll be sleeping here. Taking a step into the room, you stare at the papers strewn across his drawing table.

Anatomy practice makes up most of what litters the table, alongside pencils and a tin of charcoal, but what really catches your eye are sketches of random characters, mostly from video games you recognize. Your lips quirk into a small smile as you spot a small glimpse of color and can just barely make out a red shoe. It must be the drawing that Yuji colored the other day, and Sukuna is still working on the second half of it. It warms your heart that in his spare time, he still finds little ways to take care of his brothers.

For all his complaining, he loves them very dearly.

Pulling your gaze from the drawings, you take slow steps to the edge of his bed, taking a seat on the mattress. You’ve never really considered the comfort of his bed until this moment, but it’s fairly plush and his sheets are cozy as you run your hands beneath the covers. It’s also massive, but you can’t imagine your double bed would fit someone of his height.

Not that you should be thinking about that.

You know he welcomed you to sleep in his room, insisted on it, but a part of you can’t help but feel like you’re invading his space. Yet somehow, as you settle under the covers and stare at the ceiling, it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as you thought it might. There’s some part of you, deep down, that feels like this is what you want. Some selfish part of you that wants to feel like you belong here.

But it’s not your place to feel that way, and that feeling tugs at your lips, pulling them into a frown.

It’s a strange feeling to sleep in a bed that isn’t yours, owned by someone you can’t give your heart to. It leaves you with a sensation like static settling into your chest as you aren’t quite sure what to do with your thoughts.

Turning to your side, you pick up your phone, plug it into Sukuna’s charger, and send him one last message.

Thursday 11:12 PM - You || night, kuna!

You aren’t sure whether you send it in an attempt to comfort yourself, or if maybe it’s a sad attempt to find affection where there is none.

Regardless, all you can do is set your phone back down on the table and try to ignore the way the whole room smells painfully like him.

Thursday 11:58 PM - Kuna || night princess

–

Your alarm blares in your ear at the crack of dawn. You shoot your hand out to grab it before it can accidentally wake the kids, squinting at the time.

You may have set the alarm with your first class at eight thirty in the morning in mind, but seven still feels too early. Yawning, you scroll through your social media in an attempt to find any semblance of wakefulness before finally making your way out of Sukuna’s room. You’re about to make your way to the washroom, when the sound of a video-game-y groan in the living room catches your attention.

Padding quietly back down the hall, you peek around the corner, spotting Sukuna lounged at his full length across the couch, his legs hanging over the edge. He’s in his work khakis, but his shirt is laid on the back of the couch, a GameCube controller in hand as he plays Super Smash Bros. Melee.

Oh, it is too fucking early for this.

Your mouth goes dry as you try painfully hard to keep your attention on Sukuna’s face, and not his sculpted and tattooed abs.

“Morning,” you greet him with a groggy smile.

He pauses the game, equally drowsy eyes darting up to you. Unlike you, Sukuna is exhausted, has been awake for over twenty four hours at this point, and you’re startlingly hot in casual clothing. He’s used to seeing you in short skirts and tights, a cozy sweater adorning your top half, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you in casual clothes before.

But Sukuna is too sleep-deprived to come up with a time he’s seen you in casual clothes.

A baggy shirt hangs down your frame, stopping barely in time for Sukuna to see that you’re wearing a pair of shorts. He swears his brain fizzles out as he steals a glance at your legs, and he has to tear his gaze away to meet your eyes again.

“Hm?”

Your lips part, cheeks hot as you watch his eyes trail down the length of you. He’s probably just judging the oversized shirt with Kiki’s Delivery Service on it, but his sharp gaze never fails to warm your cheeks.

“I just said ‘morning’,” you quietly repeat with a small smile.

He hums, peeling his eyes from you and unpausing the game. “Morning.”

“How was your shift?”

“Other than you annoying me, it was fine,” he grumbles, shooting you a sideways glance to gauge your reaction. He smirks when he finds you pouting.

“Well, your bed’s all yours-”

“All good, princess. I’m takin’ the kids to school at eight and got class at nine.”

Your brow raises. “You haven’t slept,” you point out.

He shrugs, his character tossing the enemy Bowser off a platform as he continues playing games. “I’ll live.”

You frown, but you know him well enough to know he won’t budge once he’s made his mind up.

“What happened last night?” He queries, his eyes still glued to the screen. You don’t need to know the video game is the only thing keeping his attention away from your bare thighs.

With a sigh, you round the couch, sitting on the edge of the cushion opposite his head. With his feet dangling off the edge of the couch, your back presses just barely against his calves and he finds himself stealing a glance at you, your expression forlorn.

“Yuji asked Choso what he wanted to play, but Cho’s been pretty out of it lately and didn’t really care-” you pause, putting a bit more weight against Sukuna’s legs as you lean back slightly when you look at him. Sighing, you shake your head. “Yuji got pretty upset that Choso hasn’t been himself lately and hasn’t wanted to play,” you continue, “whiiiiich lead to tears, sobs, the whole nine yards.”

Sukuna pauses his game, draping his arm over his eyes with a quiet groan. “‘Course it did,” he grumbles, yawning. “How’d that go?”

“I got them to talk it out, I think everything’s alright. They were laughing and playing games when you texted back.”

Sukuna hums, rubbing his face against the back of his forearm. “Figured that would happen eventually,” he manages between another yawn, lifting his arm to push a hand through his disheveled hair. A few strands fall over his forehead, so long now that they nearly block his vision.

“Yeah,” you agree with him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Honestly, Yuji’s been pretty patient with Choso, I’m surprised it took this long.”

“He’s a good kid.” Sukuna barely shrugs, his groggy gaze finally fixing on you. He can’t say for sure what’s come over him and if he was in his right mind, he’s sure he’d brush it off as exhaustion normally, but he finds himself admiring the way your hair falls naturally to frame your face.

In fact, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you without makeup, but you seem almost radiant, and that thought alone has him spiraling into territory that’s beyond unknown to him.

He bristles at his own thoughts, an unfamiliar feeling creeping up his spine. As though fighting a battle against himself, he pulls his feet from behind you and sits up, leaning forward on his knees. Clearing his throat, he gives you a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You should go get ready.”

“Hm? Oh, right!” Hopping to your feet, you bound off to the washroom to take a shower, leaving Sukuna to grapple with his thoughts alone.

You’re forced to leave your hair to air-dry without a blow dryer or any styling products, but at least you have a toothbrush. Opening the door once you’ve finished getting ready, Yuji makes his way past you towards the kitchen with a grin and his basketball in hand. His oldest brother is trailing after him sluggishly with a hoodie that he’s attempting to get over the little boy’s head.

The five-year-old happily dribbles the ball a couple of times as he eludes Sukuna’s grasp on his way to the kitchen.

“Yuji, it’s too early for that. Our neighbors’ll have my head if you make noise,” Sukuna scolds as he uses his wide gait to step in front of his little brother and grab the ball in one big hand.

Yuji jumps at his leg as though the little amount of height his jump covers is what he needs to get his basketball back, whining at the tall man to give it back.

“No. Oatmeal’s on the table. Go eat,” he guides the little boy towards the kitchen, scratching at his jaw as he catches a glance at you.

You’re back in your usual attire, a tight tank top hugging your top with a long cardigan draped over your shoulders and light jeans adorning your lower half. You’re hardly dressed up, yet Sukuna still feels underdressed in a red hoodie and baggy black sweatpants, with a beanie covering his obviously disheveled hair.

You look cute.

Whether he’s too tired to fight that thought, or he’s simply grown accustomed to it, he doesn’t mind thinking of you in such a way.

“Need a hand?” You ask cheerily, glancing at your phone before dropping it into your pathetic excuse for a jean pocket. “I have a few minutes before I need to go.”

“Nah, I got it,” he gruffs, tilting his chin towards the kitchen. “I, uh, made you some breakfast.”

Your eyes widen as you curiously bound towards the kitchen counter, where there’s a bowl with oats, fruit, and yogurt sitting on the counter. Your eyes light up as you grab it and turn back to Sukuna.

“This is for me?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s so sweet, thanks Kuna!”

He hums, a hint of a smirk giving away his satisfaction. Choso makes his way slowly to the table to eat his dinosaur oatmeal, his usual void stare plastered across his face. After last night, you had honestly hoped maybe he would bounce back, but progress is often slow. Maybe he’ll come around.

Sukuna trails over to the kitchen counter alongside you, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the vinyl countertop. You follow suit as you spoon some yogurt into your mouth, your elbow brushing Sukuna’s arm as he watches over the three of you.

There’s something strangely domestic about the whole situation that seems to tighten your throat as you force another spoonful of yogurt down. It tastes great, but the thought of a life like this with Sukuna is bitter on your tongue. This moment, to you, feels like a glimpse at something real, something substantial, while it’s likely nothing more than a fleeting thought to Sukuna.

Spooning another mouthful of yogurt into your mouth, you tilt your head to catch a glance at his expression. You shouldn’t be surprised to find he’s drifting off, eyes glazed. His eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, but there’s no room for a nap, so he’ll just deal with it.

Turning to the sink to rinse your bowl once you’ve finished, you check the time and bid the kids a farewell, nudging Sukuna to make sure he’s awake. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

He nods, only managing a yawn as you make your way out the door.

–

Really, it shouldn’t surprise you that Sukuna slept through lunch. And your Literature History class, for that matter.

But your professor is clearly less than pleased when her grimace lands on him in the middle of the lecture. You nudge Sukuna awake, who blearily lifts his head, pushing his hood up to see why you’re bothering him. The sight of a frustrated professor doesn’t mean much to someone running on an hour of sleep (on tables, mind you), so he simply drops his chin back down onto his arms, pushes his hood back down, and shuts his eyes again.

Well, that was the wrong move.

You nudge Sukuna awake for the second time when the lecture ends, only for the professor to call both of your names in a stern tone. With a frustrated huff, he trudges down the steps and stands before her desk. You shuffle from side to side on your feet, glancing between him and the professor with an anxious frown.

The last thing you need is to be on bad terms with a professor given your scholarship.

“Mr. Sukuna. Glad you could join us after being absent for nine days,” the professor begins in an unimpressed tone. She takes a seat at her desk, motioning to both of you to grab a couple of chairs from the side of the room. Sukuna is too busy scowling at the woman to listen, so you gently tug him down into one of the chairs you drag over.

“Some of us got shit to handle,” he explains in the broadest terms possible.

“I understand that, and while attendance is not expected, I would advise with your grades sitting where they are that you do attend.”

Sukuna grinds his jaw at your side and you swear you can hear the enamel of his teeth wearing down with the force of the pressure.

“That’s not to mention that when you do show up, you sleep through the lecture,” she grimly continues, clasping her hands as she leans over the desk. Her graying blonde hair falls over her shoulders as she frowns.

“I can’t make that shit happen right-”

“Language, Mr. Sukuna.”

Sukuna shuts his eyes in a futile attempt to contain his anger. “I can’t make that happen right now,” he huffs, sharp eyes locking onto the professor. “I show up for tests and turn in papers. What more do ya want?”

This isn’t the first time he’s been pulled aside by a professor, but this is the first time in a long time that he’s been doing poorly in a class. He knows his last paper was half-assed. He knows his last test results barely skirted by.

“You need to apply yourself.” When Sukuna doesn’t reply, smoke practically blowing from his ears at the professor’s words, she continues, turning her attention to address you. “I’d like you to tutor Ryomen. You will receive extra credit,” she tells you, turning back to him, “and so long as I see an improvement in your grades, I won’t say a word about your attendance.”

The offer works well in your favor, why wouldn’t you want extra credit? Plus, you already see Sukuna enough that it wouldn’t change too much about your schedule.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is beyond pissed.

On a good day, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestion and brushed it off, but on one hour of sleep, the history major isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of being put in his place. Especially not in front of you, someone he holds a great deal of care for.

“I’m managing just fine, I don’t need to be tutored,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes, reddened from a lack of sleep.

The professor grimaces, her gaze flickering between you both. “You’re hardly passing,” she states plainly. “I’m not going to sugar coat things, Ryomen. You’re on your last legs in this class, and I will fail you if you don’t pass the test next Friday.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t need a tutor,” he growls, clutching at the arm of the chair with white knuckles.

“It’s not a huge deal, Sukuna, I can-”

“No,” he shoots you a pointed glare, pinning you to the seat. You bite the inside of your cheek, falling back into uncomfortable silence.

Unimpressed, the professor sits up a bit straighter as if to assert her authority over the situation. “This isn’t up for discussion, Mr. Suku-”

“Like hell it isn’t!” He snarls. “I’ll pass, you fuckin’ got that?” He stands abruptly, his chair screeching as it’s pushed back suddenly. With narrowed eyes, his fiery irises seem to consume him, his pupils mere pinpricks. The professor grimaces, unphased by his defiance, but her lack of reply only serves to piss Sukuna off further as he scoffs in frustration and barges out the door without another word, hands shoved in his pockets in search of his cigarettes.

The sound of the door slamming on its hinges echoes across the lecture hall as you shut your eyes, pressing your lips into a thin line.

The professor sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry to get you involved,” she apologizes with a wry smile. “I thought you two were close, and that maybe he wouldn’t be opposed to a tutoring session with you.”

“We are close,” you chuckle half-heartedly, staring down at your lap. “He- um- he’s going through a bit of a tough time, I don’t think he meant anything personally.”

The professor fixes you with her deep brown gaze, leaning back in her chair. “I see. Has he spoken to the faculty about this? He could get some assistance-”

You laugh nervously at the mere mention of help. “Believe me, if it were that simple, I would have suggested it by now.”

The professor taps her fingers along her forearm in thought, finally nodding. “I see. Well, if you’re able to step in, I would appreciate that. If not, I’m not sure what other options I have.” She shrugs. “There’s nothing I can do at the rate his grades are plummeting.”

“Is it just this class?” You ask meekly, brow drawn into a tight knit as you dread her answer.

“I can’t say,” she tells you, sympathy laced into her tone. “He’s a bright student, but it’s become clear over the past couple of weeks that he’s not here to learn.”

“Right,” you whisper, staring down at your manicured nails, a chip in the polish catching your attention. “I’ll do what I can.”

“I appreciate that,” she says with a sense of finality, grabbing a pen to begin grading some papers. You take that as your dismissal, gathering your belongings to make your way out the door. “Oh-” the professor calls your name before you push outside. “Please remind Mr. Sukuna that this class is a requirement for his major, and if he fails this next test, he will be retaking my class next semester.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

–

Had you known that was the last you would hear of your hot-headed friend until the afternoon before the test, you would have tried harder to get a hold of him.

Which is saying a lot, given that you emailed, and texted, and called incessantly.

Your only sense of reassurance was Uraume letting you know that they had run into him clad in his coveralls while Uraume was headed to campus one morning. They’d mentioned that he was taking shifts throughout the mornings to make sure he didn’t need to rely on anyone but himself. He would simply work only while his brothers were in school.

For every step forward, Sukuna takes two backwards. And this time, it seemed he was drowning in the guilt of just how much he owed you, not even bothering to respond to your texts either.

Unfortunately, along with the news that Uraume had relayed to you, came the news that he hadn’t been to a single class since the not-so-friendly run-in with the professor.

Which, as it would turn out, was the first of many impromptu meetings that you would have with her. The Wednesday before the test, you’d practically jumped out of your skin as she stopped you before you could make it out the door. 

The look on her face didn’t ease your nerves as she waited for the students to file out of the lecture hall.

“Will you please remind Ryomen that if he doesn’t show up to the test on Friday, I’m failing him?” She speaks gravely, an air of deathly sincerity surrounding her.

You had swallowed hard, assuring her that you would make sure he knew, slipping away with a shiver up your spine.

While you knew she’d be talking to you about your friend, you couldn’t help but feel like she would have had some sort of comment about your messy notes, your distracted gaze, or the inattentive tapping of your nails over the keyboard.

But then again, she couldn’t see your notes, so she didn’t know that your mind had been fixated on your concern for your friend all week. Your notes were the proof of it, words hardly making a lick of sense, and you knew it would come back to bite you in the ass. Still, every trail of thoughts leads back to the delinquent student.

You know Sukuna is likely only upset with life in general, but that shouldn’t make it fair for him to ignore you.

Or maybe you’re too in love with someone too incapable of reciprocating, and nothing feels fair to your fragile heart.

That series of events all lead to you standing at his door now, your fist raised to knock on the door. If he wouldn’t reply to your texts about the test tomorrow, you wanted to make sure he knew this was a death sentence for his semester should he choose to not show up.

That, and you want to make sure he’s okay.

Still, you hesitate as your heart pounds. One of his neighbors had let you into the building, so you hadn’t needed to buzz up to the apartment, and he had no clue you were showing up.

Swallowing your nerves, you rap your knuckles against the door, patiently waiting for him and praying he’s home at all. To your relief, it only takes a couple of moments before you find yourself face to face with the source of your racing heart.

With a bottle clutched in one hand, he opens the door with a mild expression, tilting his head down to look at you as he leans against the doorframe. A muscle shirt adorns his top, his broad shoulders and bulky arms on full display, along with what might be the sluttiest cut hand-cut armholes you’ve ever seen on a shirt, dipping down to his waist. His abs peek out from the way the material of the shirt curls inwards at the bottom and his hair hangs loosely over his forehead, long enough that a stray strand nearly reaches his eyes.

“Hey, princess,” he gruffs, heavily lidded eyes doing a languid once-over of your outfit, your usual business attire since you’d come straight from your internship. Heat creeps up your neck as it always does under his intense gaze. “How was work?”

“Hey, um- it was good,” you smooth your skirt down, chewing on your lip as you look up at him through your lashes. Your brow is knit with concern, but Sukuna is so fixated on the pretty way you chew on your lip that he doesn’t notice your concern. “Is everything okay? You stopped answering me.”

His expression hardens at your question, his gaze now fixated on the woven bracelets still tightly tied around his wrist. He stares hard at the red and black checkered bracelet that’s tied around his wrist alongside a matching black and purple one. He can just barely make out the pair of bracelets still secured around your own wrist as well.

“Yeah,” he forces out a reply to your question, his mind moving slower than he’d like. He continues his little staring contest with your coat sleeve, his brow furrowed deeply as he searches for an answer to why he stopped responding, but all he finds are failures.

It seems as though that’s a trend with him lately, as though letting people down is his thing.

“Didn’t wanna bother you,” he finally spits out, a meager excuse for his shortcomings that clearly confuses you as you tilt your head.

“You know you could never bother me,” you point out. “So what’s this really about?”

Sukuna sighs, bringing the bottle in his hand up to his lips. Your eyes scan the bottle, blinking as you realize the bottle he’s holding is a cheap bottle of beer, although he doesn’t seem drunk. If anything, he’s maybe a bit out of it.

“I’m handlin’ things on my own.” He grips the bottle in his hand harder, his knuckles white. His eyes raise finally from your sleeve to meet your gaze, pupils blown and scleras reddened. Your lips purse, and you straighten at the realization that he’s high too.

“Are you high?”

“Yeah. Want a gummy, princess?”

Your brow furrows as you adamantly shake your head. “No. Sukuna, don’t you think that’s a bit reckless? I mean, with the kids and all?”

Offense passes through his glazed eyes, almost as though he’s taken aback. Your question takes a moment to settle within the recesses of his inebriated mind, but once it does, he bites back. “The fuck are you suggestin’?”

“What if the kids got into the weed or alcohol- or- or needed help while you’re-?” You clarify with a wave of your hand at his current state, disbelief and concern laced into your tone.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious right now.”

“What about this isn’t serious?” You attempt to peer past him to see the kids, the sounds of the TV in the background telling you they can’t be far, but Sukuna’s completely blocked your view with his broad frame.

Sukuna laughs dryly, a cold smirk pulling at his lips. He swipes his tongue over the front of his teeth, shaking his head as he stares distantly behind you. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Although he’s addressing you, you get the feeling it’s a rhetorical question, something he’s asking himself.

You purse your lips, startled by the whole situation.

When you don’t reply, Sukuna continues. “You don’t seriously think I would do this in front of them, do you?” His voice raises, mind moving slower than the words pouring from his mouth. “Do you seriously think that lowly of me?” He takes a step back into the apartment, slamming the door open on its hinges with a wooden creak to make a point as he motions into the apartment. “They ain’t fuckin’ here!” He barks, turning on his heel once his point’s been made to set his beer on the counter.

You follow him into the familiar apartment and shut the door gently, turning to the TV where you can now see that he’s got Monty Python and the Holy Grail playing, his laptop hooked into the screen. Swallowing your pride, you grimace as you attempt to backpedal before things get out of hand.

“I’m sorry, Sukuna, I didn’t realize. I just got worried because they’re always with you.”

Facing the counter, he rubs his fingers over his eyes. “Whatever,” he grumbles, punctuating his sentence with your name. “Why’re you here?”

You swallow hard. “You haven’t been in class for a week, and-”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” he interrupts in a flippant tone, turning to face you. He crosses his arms over his chest as he examines the way you’re visibly grappling with his attitude. “It’s the only way I can make this shit work.”

“You know I’m here to help. You know I want to help. You’re gonna fail if you don’t show up tomorrow.” You take a step towards him, feeling small under his harsh glare, but praying you can get through to him.

Sukuna watches you take a step towards him, his eyes dry as he feels the urge to rub at them again. He blinks a couple of times as his mind slowly processes your words. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he shakes his head. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s better this way.”

“What are you talking about? You’re so close to graduating. Just let me-”

“Let you what?” He interrupts your relentless insistence to help him. “Let you fuckin’ tutor me? Come in and turn my life around?” He pauses abruptly, his jaw tensing as realization flashes through his glazed eyes. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

“What?” The question comes out more milquetoast than you would have liked, but you’re left in genuine confusion at his query.

He laughs, a bitter smile burning straight through you as he shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what this has always been, isn’t it? God, I’m so fuckin’ stupid.”

“What do you mean, Kuna?”

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses suddenly. “Don’t pretend you’ve ever cared. Don’t fucking pretend. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Completely taken aback, you stumble one step backwards, failing to understand where he’s coming from. 

“You’ve been nit-pickin’ me non-stop since we got back from Christmas break, every single little thing I do is wrong. Did you talk to that prof about tutoring me too, add another box to check on your list? Play it off like she suggested it?”

Fuck. Of course the talk with the professor had this much of a negative effect on him. Of course one stupid little moment fucked up everything you’d worked so hard to build up.

“You don’t seriously believe that.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to believe? That I’m worth losing sleep over for someone like you? That I’m worth the time you’ve spent chasing me?” His chest heaves as he glares at you, his voice raised. “I’ve always been some little project to you!”

Caught somewhere between frustration, disbelief and hurt, you shake your head. “I’ve never- ever-” you pause for emphasis, “- seen you as a project.” You chew on your lip as your gaze flickers between his eyes, clouded with anger, but painfully distant. Whether that’s from the weed, alcohol, or stress, you can’t say for sure. “You’re my friend, Sukuna. That’s what friends do, they show up!” You wave a hand through the air as if to say that’s what you’re doing now. Even if it hardly feels that way at the moment.

“Yeah, maybe they do. When you’re little miss perfect.”

His words strike you, sharp and icy, threatening to draw blood. Fury courses through you at his blatant disregard not only for you, but also Toji and Uraume, even Atsuya and Kento. “Your friends do show up! We’ve all been showing up!” Your hand waves through the air again as you raise your voice to match his. “What do you call Toji and Uraume, if not your friends? What do you think of me?” You pause, shaking your head as you stand up for not just yourself but his friends. Your friends. “You just push us all away because you’re afraid!”

“I ain’t afraid of shit, I’m not here to be some charity case for you or any of ‘em!” His eyes blaze as he abruptly turns away, pacing a couple of steps towards the fridge as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“You never were! Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.” You cross your arms over your chest, staring out the window at the steady snowfall. “I’m so sick of you being such a dick just because you’re insecure.”

Sukuna scoffs, still facing the fridge as if he can’t even bear to look at you. In truth, he knows these emotions have been brewing within for a while now and it’s all come to a head with yet another mistake piling into the seemingly endless list of things he’s done wrong. He could let your gripes with smoking slide, your insistence about his major he was willing to talk through and the offer to tutor he could deal with at the end of the day.

But the way he’d never felt dumber in his life than when you seemed to think he’d get inebriated in front of the kids was the final straw that caused the pile to crumble.

And now he’s insecure and scared, too? He’s not sure he wants to admit, to you, or himself, just how much that all hurts. Sukuna doesn’t have the luxury of admitting that he’s hurt. He doesn’t have the luxury of being anything less than fine, because that’s what he needs to be for his brothers.

If he’s about to let you down, then he’ll dig that grave himself. He won’t let you put him there at the cost of what’s left of his dignity.

“Everything’s gotta be wrong with me when it comes to you, huh? It’s always somethin’. I’m never good enough,” he snarls, taking a step towards you as he finally turns to face you.

“That’s not-”

“The smoking, my major, my grades, this,” he points to a six pack of beer and a bag of weed gummies sitting open on the coffee table behind you. “Now I’m insecure too, right? Keep going, princess, find more shit to fix about me.”

His words hit hard, blood steadily seeping from an invisible wound in your chest, a gaping hole in your heart that Sukuna has no clue exists in the shape of him. You swallow hard, inhaling sharply to prevent the hot tears welling in your eyes from falling. “I’ve never been trying to fix you.” With another steady breath, you barely manage to push out another sentence. “I’ve only ever been trying to help because I see you struggling and I care about you.”

“But it always comes back to this, doesn’t it? We piss one another off and it’s always me who goes crawling back to you,” he points out, taking another step forward. He’s barely a foot away now, towering over you as you struggle to keep yourself from falling apart.

God, why do arguments always make you want to cry?

“I’m always the fuck-up, and you’re the perfect little prom queen. You can do no wrong.”

You bring a hand up to your cheek as you stare at the hardwood under your feet. You can only pray Sukuna doesn’t see the way a tear trails down your skin, warm and salty. “Don’t call me that.”

“Hit a nerve, prom queen?”

You swallow hard, wiping another tear as you refuse to look up at him. “You’re being an ass.”

“Yeah, maybe. But at least I’m not a fix-me-up for the school’s little scholarship princess.”

“That’s not fair, Sukuna.”

He crosses his arms, fire raging wildly behind his sharp glare. Everything about this feels foreign, from the complete and utter genuine rage that burns within him, the flames licking and simmering against your skin, to the way he seems genuinely hurt. “But it’s fair for me to sit here while you work on me, right?”

“I didn’t know you felt that way!” You raise your voice in your defense, taking a step back. Being so close to his personal space is nauseating and you want nothing more than to leave right now. “I never meant to make you feel like that, I was only ever trying to help,” you insist, gaze pleading through the tears that now freely fall down your face.

Guilt swirls alongside the downright humiliation you feel as you cry in the middle of an argument, one that leaves you standing in a metaphorical pool of your own blood as each of his words grate further into you while he steels himself.

“I told you from the start I didn’t need help.”

“You called me for help!” You point out, chewing hard on your lip, the skin raw at this point as iron tinges your tongue.

“That was a favor. I paid it back.”

“That doesn’t matter, Sukuna! I was only ever trying to be a good friend,” you wipe at your tears again, certain your makeup has streaked down your cheeks and you look like a complete mess.

“If I’m nothing but problems to you, why try?” He hisses, gritting his teeth as he takes another step forward.

You stumble back until your foot hits the couch, desperate for space from him. “Because this-” you pause, motioning at him. “This isn’t you! I’ve seen the real Sukuna, and I like him, I- I like you.”

If ever there was a way to feel your heart break physically, you think this might be it. It shatters as Sukuna only scoffs, completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve confessed something so personal to you. Something so deeply ingrained within your being from spending so much time with him that saying it aloud to him and seeing nothing but disdain in return might be the cruelest punishment of all.

Is it fair to think Sukuna might understand what you mean? Maybe not. Maybe he’s too dense, too guarded to understand the true meaning behind your words. Maybe he’s too jaded to think that anyone could possibly have feelings for him. ‘Like’ is just another synonym to him.

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

“What, I’m fake now, too?”

“God, you’re such a dick!” You groan, leaning against the back of the couch as you face him. “That’s not what I meant.” You inhale sharply in an effort to keep your tears at bay.

“Then what the hell did you mean?” He barks, though he doesn’t wait for your response. His voice lowers suddenly, dripping with venom. “I didn’t ask for this fuckin’ life, you know that? I never wanted to work two jobs or take care of my brothers!” His hand flies through the air in exasperation, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his forehead are practically bulging. “But guess what? I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” He huffs, irritation coming off of him in waves. “And I definitely didn’t fucking ask for you to come in and tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”

“I was never doing that, Sukuna-”

“Then what the fuck is going on right now?” He hisses, motioning back towards the six pack and bag of gummies that sit atop the coffee table again, doubling down on your earlier accusation.

“I only showed up to try to help with classes!” You insist, parting your lips to continue but in his blaze of fury, he’s already growling out a reply again.

“Oh right,” he scoffs with a dry chuckle. “How could I forget that my grades aren’t good enough?”

“Oh my god, stop! Can you listen to me for one second? You’re gonna fail if you don’t show up tomorrow!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he shouts, punctuating the sentence with your name. “It doesn’t… fucking matter anymore.” There’s an air of defeat around his words. Even angry with the man, it’s unbefitting of him, of someone so driven and prideful.

Shaking your head, you stare up at him with a furrowed brow. “I thought your degree mattered to you.”

“It does,” he gruffs, pressing a thumb to his temple as his head pounds. “It did.”

“Then why quit when you’re so close?”

“Close?” There’s no humor in the chuckle he lets out, shaking his head. “I’ve never been further! Their fuckin’ mother made sure of that when she slapped me with a lawsuit!” He barks, dragging a hand over his face, dropping it to his side with a thump as his hand collides with the fabric of his sweatpants. “No matter who wins the lawsuit, she’s still comin’ out on top because I can’t afford any of this shit and she knows that.” He shakes his head, disdain twisting his features into a deep frown. “So what I want doesn’t matter, as long as Yu and Cho get to have a better life. That’s all that matters now.”

You know there’s an obvious solution here, one in which Sukuna takes his foot out of his ass and stops being a stubborn prick and asks for help, but that’s not who he is. He’s set in ways so deeply ingrained in him that no amount of convincing will get through to him, and as much as you hate to admit it, you think you need to accept that.

It’s not like this argument is doing your friendship any good, anyway. Sukuna knows his last chance shattered the moment he snapped, but beneath the surface it’s clear that on both sides there were unspoken frustrations that had been brewing for longer than either of you had cared to admit. They were bound to come to a startling explosion eventually, but this just feels like a slog for an inebriated Sukuna.

Every word piles onto his troubles, a mess of misunderstood words and confusing intentions that he can’t seem to grasp in his high state. A glimpse of your teary face has him scowling at the ground, wondering if this could have been prevented, wondering why there’s a weight in his chest practically begging him to find a middle ground with you, but it’s far too late for that and he knows it.

The whole situation has his head pounding as emotions swirl in his chest, leaving a deep discomfort that he wants nothing more than to drown in liquor. He grasps at his head, pressing the ball of his palm hard against his temple as he takes a step towards the table at the back of the apartment, leaning over it on splayed palms.

Bile rises in his throat, but he’s not nearly drunk enough for it to be caused by alcohol. One beer wouldn’t do that to a man of Sukuna’s stature, leaving him wondering if it’s you causing the bitter taste to surface at the back of his throat. He swallows hard, his chest heaving.

No, this isn’t from alcohol. He recognizes this feeling all too well. But this time, he has no one to rely on as his chest and throat tighten. He inhales sharply, pushing himself up to face you again. He steels himself to the best of his ability, masking any and all signs of the anxiety stirring deep within his chest.

You’re not oblivious to the way he’s visibly shaking and struggling to breathe, you recognize all-too-well the signs of his pain, but he won’t let you help. You know that. You know what’s coming and the worst part is that you still want to help. Your heart still aches for something you won’t find within the hardened and cold man.

It’s who you are. You’re the type to help, no matter what. Even if it leaves you hurting.

But Sukuna is incompatible with that mindset.

Worse still, is the guilt that boils deep within your stomach. Sukuna’s made a handful of mistakes, ones that he worked hard to make up for, but you’d been so deeply engrossed in helping that you didn’t realize it sometimes came across as fixing. You’d never intended to hurt him, you never wanted to add to his burdens.

But it seemed for once you’d hurt one another, both too bogged down by the world that somewhere along the way you’d both harboured too much pain and lashed out.

It wasn’t just Sukuna at fault this time, but he would be the one to end things where he stood.

“Get out.”

Your lip trembles at the finality of the situation, zipping your coat up as you head for the door, keeping your gaze drawn to the floor in an effort to keep Sukuna from seeing how destroyed you are.

Pausing at the door, you briefly turn back, your lips parting as you contemplate saying what’s on your mind. “I didn’t ask for a lot, Sukuna. I’ve never cared if you paid me back, or returned any favors.” You swallow hard to keep yourself from audibly sobbing. “You, Choso, and Yuji were always worth the extra effort just by being yourselves.” Before you can see his reaction, you swing the door open and shut it behind you.

It’s not until you’re in your car that you finally let yourself fall apart, sobbing against the steering wheel.

Countless sleepless nights spent worrying over the brothers had blinded you to the way you had been hurting Sukuna, even if you’d never intended it. It wasn’t even just a case of his pride or ego getting in the way for once, you’d made a genuine mistake and stung to know you’d caused him pain.

You can’t be upset that he reacted the way he did when you accused him of drinking around the kids, but it doesn’t give him the right to step on you. You know Kento and Shoko would be happy to know you stood up for yourself, but there’s no satisfaction in that fact. You hadn’t wanted to stand up for yourself, because this isn’t what you wanted for the friendship you treasured so genuinely.

For all the closeness you shared with the burly man, one mistake was all it took for it to fall apart.

But really, was it ever only one mistake? The smoking, his major, his grades, although all little things, they all added up. It doesn’t give Sukuna the right to say the things he did, to hurt you and dig so deeply until he crushed the very core of your soul, but for once you know this isn’t one-sided.

This isn’t like your other arguments, bogged down by Sukuna’s deeply jaded views of the world and distrust for those around him. You made a mistake, sure, but he took it too far, leaving you both in equal parts in the wrong.

The only difference is that where you would have talked things out, Sukuna stomped out any remaining flame of connection, burying the hatchet with cruel words.

Leaning over the steering wheel, you contemplate where you went wrong. Where along the winding road of what was once a very deep connection one of you found a bump and turned it into a pothole.

Sukuna would contemplate the same himself, but not until a gruelling morning hangover found him the following morning.

Tonight, his sufferings would leave him in a painfully familiar position on the washroom floor, drowning in his anxiety.

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[undercoveravenger]

Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

A/N: Intended as an early-stages poly relationship, but could also be interpreted as platonic.

Part 2 -> Click here

-----

It’s a bullshit new law that does it. Some asshole lawmakers deciding that just because there’s some small fraction of animal DNA in them that they can’t do their jobs right without “an actual person” watching over them that gets you assigned to the 141.

Sure, joining a team that elite is an honor, but it’s something you’d have wanted by your own merits, not just because someone who’d never seen real combat in their lives thought your new colleagues needed someone fully human to reel them in. 

You’ve seen their numbers - they don’t need you and you’re sure as hell they don’t want you encroaching on the bond that their experiences have fostered between them. That’s why you come in expecting the animosity. 

You were right. Captain Price is cordial enough, he shakes your hand without crushing it and says he’s eager to work with you but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and the terseness in his voice tells you he’s just saying it to be polite. He’s run this task force long enough to know how to do his job without you there. His Lieutenant doesn’t even grant you that. The sergeants seem wary and you don't blame them but you know that it’s better to be someone like you that knows their worth than one of the holier-than-thou bureaucrats they’d been considering assigning to this post, so you’ll just have to try to find your place in the team.

-----

Soap is the easiest to win over. He finds you in the gym one night long after everyone else had retired back to their bunks, ripping through reps at the bench press without a spotter. He’s thrown for a minute, used to being the only one up this late since the rest of the squad is mostly diurnal, but he’s content enough to admire the way your compression shirt is darkened with sweat and to watch your muscles shift with each movement. Can feel himself drooling a little at the spice of your scent, heady and masculine and tempting enough to make him want to bite.

 He wonders a little, whether you’d be able to keep up with him and he can’t help the steady pace his tail picks up behind him as he decides he’s going to find out.

You’ve got your eyes closed and earbuds in like you’re the only one for miles and yet you still seem to sense him as he drops his bag and moves to stand near you. 

“S’dangerous,” he says as you re-rack your weights and pull an earbud out, “To lift without someone to spot you.” 

You nod, it’s one of the biggest rules of gym safety for a reason, but you’d never been great with rules. “Never much liked askin’ for help,” you admit after a minute. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone.”

He hums, and you don’t feel judged, just understood, “Well, you’re stuck with the lot o’ us now, whether you like it or not,” he grins, wolfish and happy, and moves to stand at the head of the bench to spot you, “Bother away.” And just like that, you’ve got yourself a new workout buddy.

It’s like he’s your self appointed shadow after that, waiting outside your door every morning with a freshly made protein shake in each hand, one for each of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too if you say no, pointy wolf ears drooping and tail falling still behind him. He looks like he’s about to cry until you finally relent and take yours from him (he perks up right away every time, the little faker). Eventually you learn that it’s easier to just take it from him without the fight and let him ramble on about whatever he’d seen on tiktok the night before as he walks you to your office.

He joins you for meals too, complains about the amount of food on your plate and scoops bites off his own plate to supplement yours despite your protests. His Ma had always told him growin’ up that he had to eat plenty of protein if he wanted to be big and strong and protect his pack, so he’s just tryin’ to do the same for you and doesn’t understand why you feel the need to argue about sharing food.

You’re part of his pack now, and Soap’ll be damned before he neglects one of his packmates, just don’t be surprised if he starts bullying his way into your room at night too - he’s a cuddler.

-----

Gaz warms up to you next, though he always blames the blood loss if someone asks what won him over. He’d joined you and Soap for your evening workouts a few times, and grinned at each other when you passed in the halls, but it’s not until the morning after a brutal op that he really starts to see you as part of the team.

It’s early. Barely three-thirty in the morning when the heli touches down and maybe only four when the squad tumbles through the doors but you’re right there with the rest of them. Price is already headed down to the administrative wing for a debrief and Ghost has a snoring Soap over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes on his way to the barracks, and then there’s just the two of you.

You’ve got one of Gaz’s arms over your shoulder and an arm heavy around his waist, tucked snug under his bleeding wing, taking most of his weight as you help him limp through the halls. You hang a left instead of the right that would lead to the infirmary, instead guiding him into your office. You sweep whatever paperwork had been on your desk aside, and help him up to sit, legs hanging off one side of your desk and wings cascading over the other.

You’re quick to shrug off the outer layer of your tactical gear and cast it aside, pulling out a sizable med kit from under your desk and settling on your knees in front of him. You ask him if it’s okay, before you help ease his cargo pants down enough to get to the wound on his thigh and he finds himself taken aback since their usual medic would just muscle them off or cut them away to get at it. You wait until he nods to start tugging at the fabric, fingers careful and intent as you work the material free from the torn flesh. 

He watches as your gaze flickers over the wound and you reach for what you need without even looking. He’s been told his eyes are intense before, it’s normal for bird of prey hybrids, perhaps especially so for golden eagle hybrids like him, but he’s never quite understood the way people describe being pinned in place by his gaze until now. 

You work fast, sterilizing, stitching, and then bandaging his wound with a speed that would rival the military doctors in the infirmary, and the stitches seem more sturdy than he can remember his last ones being. 

Once you’re satisfied with his leg, you stand and move behind him to get a better look at his wing. He'd taken a bullet to it, right through the meat of the muscle, and he knew he’d be grounded a long while until it healed. You hesitated then, unsure if he’d be okay with you touching such a personal area as his wings. 

Gaz swallows hard, trying to think of the last time someone other than himself had handled his wings, and nudges it back into your hands. You’re remarkably gentle, he thinks, as your fingers card delicately through rich caramel feathers until you’re able to uncover the bullet hole. You use a pair of tweezers, to make sure that there are no lingering bits of shrapnel, and a tiny set of scissors to trim back any of the soft downy feathers that could catch in the wound as it heals. 

He’s started churring by the time you’re done, a sort of contented trill from the feeling of someone else preening his wings, despite the lingering pain from the injuries. His golden eyes snap back to focus as you nudge a water bottle and granola bar into his hands with a muttered apology that it was all you had on hand, and he’s still plenty happy because you’re trying to be part of his flock by preening him and providing for him. He churs the whole while as you guide him back to his room and help him into bed.

Gaz quickly becomes a regular participant of you and Soap’s late night gym sessions and joins you for mealtimes once in a while after that night.

-----

Truthfully, you still don’t know what convinced Ghost you were worth knowing, but he supposes that’s because you hadn’t known he was there. He’d been on his way to deliver a mission report from Price to one of the other admin when one of his rounded ears caught the sound of your raised voice. His curiosity drew him to the door, cracked just enough that he was able to see you stood across a table from a trio of generals, arms crossed and back straight. 

“I appreciate your congratulations,” you growled, and Ghost was taken aback by the ferocity in your voice. He’d never heard you speak like that before, not even in the field. “But I am not the one who should be hearing it.”

His ears prick forward, tugging against the thick fabric of his mask as he listened closer, intrigued. 

“With all due respect, Major, task force 141-” one of the pencil pushers started.

“No,” you interrupted, hands coming down hard on the desk between you and the other officers, “They are due the commendations. They are the ones who built this team from the ground up. Sure, there have been successful missions since my joining, but those are not only my achievements. If you want to offer a public congratulations on a successful operation, it will be to my entire team, not just the picture you think would be easiest to publish.”

With that, you turn from the board of your superior officers and head for the door, ignoring their protests, and Ghost has to scramble back in order to avoid being hit with the door. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you say as you see him, moving out of his way. “Didn’t see you there,” and for once that doesn’t sound like some slight against his panther genetics, just a plain statement - he’d been behind the door and you hadn’t meant to nearly clip him with it. You clap him on the shoulder and head off down the hall back toward your office and Ghost is tempted to drop the file where he stands to follow you, one simple interaction you hadn’t meant for him to see enough to convince him there was far more to you than he’d thought. 

You weren’t just some babysitter added to their little family to observe them like they were no more than wild animals - you actually saw their worth and were willing to fight for it?

An amused little huff escapes him and Ghost forces his attention back to the task at hand, spotted tail lashing smoothly behind him as he turns and continues on his way, sharp claws digging puncture wounds into the folder he’d been sent to deliver and your words ringing in his mind.  

----

Price was the last to come around to you being a part of their little family, though he’d never been outright hostile the way Ghost had at first. He’d done his best to be professional with you, complying with the needed paperwork and taking your insights on each operation under consideration, though he never deliberately sought you out. 

That didn’t mean he could avoid you when the team had a mission though, especially not now with the five of you piled into a much-too-small cabin in the mountains near where intel suggested one of Makarov’s bases were. Laswell had just radioed in to let Price know there was a snowstorm incoming so evac might be delayed and to expect to hunker down at least another two nights.

With only two bedrooms and a total of three small beds between them, you’d volunteered to take up roost on the lumpy couch in the living room so he’s not surprised to see you there, so much as he is by your company. You’re sprawled out in about the middle of the couch with Gaz tucked comfortably against your side, your arm around his shoulder and one of his wings curling around the both of you. As Gaz’s wing shifts, Price notices Soap curled against your legs, snoring away, but he freezes as he sees Ghost.

Everyone on the team has gone through hell, but Price knows Ghost has dealt with more than his share. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for any of them, but for Ghost a decent night’s sleep was an incredible rarity. That’s why he’s so startled to see Ghost stretched comfortably along the rest of the couch with his head on your lap and his face nuzzled into your stomach, skull mask gone in favor of his more casual balaclava, and his breathing deep and even.

A pleased little huff escapes Price, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of his three favorite people curled up together happy and comfortable. And if you were part of that? Well, there was plenty of room for one more in that old bear’s heart.

[jarofstyles]

Scarred

Harry and Y/N work at a haunted attraction together- but no one’s ever seen his face.

WC-5.2k

Patreon

Warnings- mention of scars, bullying, anxiety, mention of blood, exhibitionism hint, slight angst and fluff

------

When Y/N had first signed up to be a scare actor, she had heard a lot of things.

Be careful of guests with fear aggression. You may get punched.

Do not take candy from guests, there was an incident. 

Go for the people who are acting like they are too good for it. They make the best scares.

But the one she had thought was the most amusing? 

Everyone is hooking up. Be careful who you choose. 

Y/N had no intentions of hooking up with anyone. This had been a side job, a side hustle if you will, some money to pay off bills and let her get a head start on holiday gifts. She’d never anticipated that a scare attraction would have the amount of drama or hook ups that she had been exposed to. It seemed like people paired off, even her friends she’d made that had warned her in rehearsal runs, had found people to fuck around with. She had no plans on doing anything with anyone- until she’d met Harry. 

They had been in full costume when she’d met him. Skull makeup skillfully painted on his face, hair slicked back and some fake blood trickling down his temple. It was also splattered on his white dress shirt and knuckles, as well as the large axe he dragged along with him to make sparks on the pavement. He had a swagger to his walk, a smirk on his face as he approached Y/N, eyeing her up and down. 

Her own costume was of a crazed vampire princess. An elvira adjacent dress with multiple rips, loads more fake blood on her dripping down her chin and smeared around her neck and hands. The choker holding a cross pendant had been his area of attack, gently tugging on it with a hum as he got into her space. Even with the red contacts in his eyes, she could read them well. It was hard not to. “Look at that….” he mumbled to her, their faces nearing as he lifted his hand to expose his cross tattoo near his thumb. “We match.” 

That had been it before he walked away that time, but it wasn’t the end of it. It was only the beginning. 

The first time they’d hooked up had been in an empty dressing room. Her face in his neck as he fucked into her, trying to hide her moans as he had taken her deep, her leg held in his hand as she was pressed against the lit table. He’d been filthy, whispering into her ear about how he would have done this out there if she had let him, how much he loved to feel her wrapped around him, his makeup smearing on her face and vice versa.

“There we go… what a tight little thing you are.” His breath washed over her lips, keeping their faces close. His cock had gotten deep in her, deeper than she had ever experienced without it being too much, and she had felt like he’d fucked her brain to mush. Repeatedly getting at her most sensitive spot, finding it and keeping right at it. 

“Found it, didn’t I? So responsive. Teased me all fucking night, didn’t you?” He held her throat despite it still being sticky with the fake blood, watching her mouth open and panting. Her fingers held to the edge of the table and her knuckles pale, the slight wobble of her leg still on the ground cluing him in. “Do you know what I wanted to do?” 

“What?” Y/N whispered. “What did you want to do to me?” She was desperate to know, not able to hide the desperation in the slightest with how well she was being fucked. 

“I wanted to bend you over that bench. Brushed my stomach with those fucking nails… saying ‘oops’, like you hadn’t meant to. You did, you little slut. Just like you meant to push that perfect ass into me when you felt me come up behind you.” He hissed, tightening his grip on her throat. “Should have lifted up your skirt and taken you there. You were soaked for me then, weren’t you?” His grin was wicked, making her brain short circut. He was fully done in makeup despite it smearing near his mouth, and there was something so erotic about being fucked by a man in disguise. 

“Fuck- more.” She pleaded, gritty voice gracing his ears along with her whimpers. His hand was wrapped deliciously around her throat and his fingers expertly pressing right against the sides, showing his experience and honestly, expertise at the art of erotic choking. “Spit- spit in my mouth, please? Please I just-“ she was cut off by his snicker.

“You’re filthier than I thought.” He laughed, watching in pleasured awe as her mouth opened and her tongue laid out, eagerly catching the string of spit as he messily gave it to her. She could feel his cock twitch in her as her eyes hazily looked up at him, swallowing it with a slightly deranged giggle. 

“So dirty.” Her voice wheezed, opening her mouth for more. “Give me everything. I’ll be good, just- I want it all.”

Harry had definitely followed through in that promise. Hell, the man made her cum twice that first time, gently helping clean her up before they’d gone their separate ways. 

Y/N had yet to see him without the face makeup on. She’d caught him without the costume and seen the gallery of tattoos he had inked on his skin, but he always beat her there and seemed to like the game of having seen her face without her seeing his. In some ways, it was like a bit of foreplay to them both. Y/N never knew she had a kink that was mask adjacent but here she was. 

He didn’t even bother taking it off at the attraction, rather driving home in full makeup. Her friends had said they’d never seen him without it either, but the only thing they knew was his real eye color was green. Harry was a bit secretive and apparently had never hooked up with anyone in the past, despite working here for the last 5 seasons. 

“He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you.” Kristen mumbled to her as they did their makeup next to one another. In the reflection she could see Harry standing in a group with some other scare actors, but his focus was on Y/N. Seeing her find his gaze in the mirror, he didn’t look away. Instead, he winked at her, continuing his observation. Y/N felt herself heat under her skin, shaking her head as her hand trembled slightly as she lined her lips. 

“I bet he does. Come on, how big is he?” Her friend hissed, trying to gain some sort of juicy tidbit she’d been holding off on. 

“Big.” Y/N laughed, placing the cap back on her lip liner. “I don’t know any more about him than you guys do. I know what car he drives, that he doesn’t have any social media, has green eyes and a big dick. But he’s still a gentleman above all else, he always walks me to my car. But that’s about it.” She wished she knew more. Having hook ups happen exclusively at work was hot, but she’d love to be on a bed. And not have to rush. 

“I think he’s actually into you.” Kristen muttered. “I heard he was asking around about you. He hasn’t asked me anything yet but he asked Lila if you lived around here or if you travelled.” 

Y/N’s brows furrowed, meeting Harry’s in the mirror yet again. He rose a brow in return, narrowing his eyes at her with his smirk. “I don’t know why he’s asking other people that stuff when he can just ask me.” She replied, going back to filling her lips in with the lipstick. It irked her a little bit, she couldn’t lie. Y/N had tried to get more information on him but he’d sort of froze when she tried so she respected it and didn’t bring it up again. 

“Maybe it’s because when you both are together you’ve got each other’s tongues down your throats.” Her friend snickered, making Y/N kick her shin. That got her to stop, but it didn’t make it any less true. It was real, she feared. Every night, since they were in the same scare zone, it was like foreplay when they walked by each other. His hand brushing her back or her arm, whispering something dirty to her as he passed by, or vice versa. But still. 

At the end of the night, when Harry popped up out of nowhere while she cleaned her bag, she felt his hands grip her hips from behind. Her costume had been hung up on the rack, leaving her in athletic shorts and her tee shirt as his fingers dipped under the waistband, pulling her back into him and letting her feel his cock. It was in his jeans, his black tank top exposing his tattoos yet again as she looked at the hands feeling her up. “Heard you were asking around about me.” She said simply, allowing him to touch as she zipped up her bag. 

“I was.” Was his answer, lips brushing over the shell of her ear. “Pretty little princess is a bit of a mystery. I’ve found the answers to be satisfactory, though.” He sighed, making her skin flood with chills as he kissed the delicate skin right behind her ear. Y/N found it hard to think when he touched her like this but it was hard to pull away when his touch was something she craved. Even in her day to day before she went to work, she thought about his mouth and his hands, How he tasted. She had bruises from him and they were constant reminders. 

“What answers did you find?” She asked, leaning back in his hold and letting her ass rub against his length. His nose exhaled a harsher breath at the action, hands tightening on her as he groaned. 

“Well.. You live around here. You’ve got a cat. Work full time. Know your age, know you like banana taffy which, in my humble opinion, is vile. But I don’t know enough. I want to know more.” His deep voice was hypnotic, making her want to spill her life story to him, but looking in the mirror to see his face still painted made her pause. 

“I’m the mystery?” She laughed. “You don’t let anyone see your face. All I know about you is your name, your car, that you like ACDC, and you’re good in bed.” She huffed, turning around to face him. His contacts were out and the mossy green looked down at her, a grin lighting up his features as he replied. 

“Good in bed, aye?” 

“Harry.” She deadpanned, crossing her arms. “I’m serious. I don’t know much at all. Is this something you want to keep just here? Cause I’m a little confused why you’re asking around and wanting to know more when you’ve never let me see you without the makeup on before.” She could see him sober a little bit, body stiffening a little when he could tell she was serious. “It’s like you make it a point for no one to see your real face, which, it’s cool if that’s a boundary but I feel a bit at a disadvantage when you’ve seen all of me and I’ve barely seen any of you.” It felt a bit ridiculous to say, perhaps she was overreacting but it was something that she felt. She’d felt there was a bit of an imbalance.

Harry was quiet for a moment, releasing her from his grip as he ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to mull over it for a moment, making Y/N hope she didn’t upset him but it was a conversation they’d eventually have to have. 

“I’ve never done this before.” He finally mumbled back. “I like this job because it lets me escape the day to day. The stares I get normally, it's the stares I want. I don’t- I don’t want you to feel disadvantaged because of it.” Obviously that bothered him. His brows were furrowed and his stance stiff, which she felt slightly bad for but it was simply the truth. It confused her a little bit, but he continued. “I just like what I’ve got going on here, and I don’t want people to look at me differently or anything like that. As for you, for us… I don’t want to keep it just here, but it’s the excuse I’ve got to keep the makeup on.” 

Now she was very confused. Looking at him with it written on her face, she placed her hand on his arm for comfort as she tried to get his eyes to meet hers again. “What do you mean?” She asked gently, trying to approach the subject delicately. It was relieving to know he didn’t want to only keep it here, but it made her concerned to know something was holding him back from showing her his face. “You know, if you show me your face I’m not going to tell anyone else what you look like. If you want privacy, I respect that. It's not my secret or face to share.” Y/N hoped he would know that even in the short time they’d known each other. 

“No, I know- I don’t think you would. I just worry because-” He obviously didn’t like talking about it and it made him uncomfortable, as this was probably the most they’d talked without slipping into something sexual, but he seemed to take her concern seriously. “I worry that you’re going to see me without the makeup and be repulsed or something. All of my exes, well both of them, they said they were okay with me and then it got too much when people stared at me and- fuck, okay….” He groaned, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got a massive scar going down the side of my face. Goes through my eyebrow, over my eyelid and down my cheek. Some skin is fucked up on the side too, s’textured- I was in an accident when I was younger and it fucked it all up.” He breathed, making Y/N’s heart ache. Once he started talking though, he was going and she didn’t want to interrupt, so she just slipped her hand down to hold his and nodded for him to continue. “I’ve grown up being called all sorts of shit and a monster- hell, even coming here to audition, they thought I was in some special effects shit. They were mortified when I told them it was just my face after they said they’d want to make it more gory, but… I come here in my makeup and no one sees the scar. They just see me and they think I’m attractive, and even if it's a little weird, I can anticipate the staring cause it’s not my imperfection. It’s anticipated. Dunno if I’m running my mouth for a stupid reason, but-”

“No. It isn’t stupid.” Y/N said firmly. “First, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, had to be hurt like that, and had people who hurt you because they’re cowards and can’t deal with people staring at you. That’s bullshit and it pisses me off.” She huffed, obviously irritated. “But I am not going to be repulsed or horrified. I like what I’ve seen of you this far, didn’t even think I’d hook up with anyone here if I’m honest, but you are extremely attractive, Harry. I’m positive that once the face paint comes off, that isn’t going to change. Scar or not. It’s how you carry yourself, how you talk. How you touch.” Her other arm lifted to wrap over his neck, pressing her body into his own. “If you aren’t ready to show me, you don’t have to. I won’t ever make you show yourself here either.” She motioned to the room around them. “ I understand, having an escape from that must be so nice but… I promise you, I’m not going to run away just because of a mark on your skin. I like you from what I know so far- even if it isn’t a lot.” Her voice was tender, trying to convey just how much she meant it. It could be such a good thing, at least in her opinion. They had incredible chemistry and got on and she wanted to see how far it could take them. 

Harry took a moment to absorb what she said, nodding hesitantly before he pulled her back into an embrace. It broke her heart to feel his shaky hand on her back. He didn’t seem to be afraid of anything but this, working in a place built for screams and monsters, his real face was his secret. Y/N didn’t like that people had made him feel ashamed over something he had no control over. “I-I do like you.” He said quietly, chin on top of her head. “I was even worried, y’know, for after the season was over because I like how I feel around you, but I’ve been scared t’show you. If you really want to see…” He was a bit braver with her face tucked into his neck, her fingers stroking the hair peeking from his beanie that covered his head. “I think it could be cool if you came over t’my house.” 

“Yeah?” Her face brightened and Harry swore right there that it would make it worth it. The underlying anxiety was still there but hell, Y/N hadn’t even blinked at the idea he maybe wasn’t as attractive as she thought underneath the makeup. “Okay! When?” Her body bounced in excitement and it made the pressure on his chest lift just a smidge. 

“Uh- tonight? If you want.” He offered. “Or tomorrow, I’m not like, super bus- I write from home as my other job, and I do on the side too- so I make my own schedule, it’s really up to you.”

“I’d love to come tonight.” The excitement was audible in her tone, the more she spoke the less he felt anxious. “Let me grab my bag. Uh, why don’t you text me your address.” She suggested, pushing some of his hair back. “I’ll follow you there but in case we get lost.” 

“Course.” He went to take out his phone but was interrupted by a pair of petal soft lips connecting with his, making him abandon his plans and inhale sharply as he reciprocated the soft kiss. His hand on the side of her neck, pulling her back in when she went to pull away and making her giggle. 

“There will be plenty of that once we get there. Let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

—————

Harry’s place was cute. 

In a row of condos, his was at the end and she could see a fence hiding what must be a hard. Long rather than wide, she was impressed immediately as she pulled up behind his car. He had already arrived but waited patiently at his front door, seemingly already put his stuff away. 

Y/N wanted to coo at the decoration of the front porch of his place. There were a few carved pumpkins, a spider web, and purple and orange string lights hanging on the banisters. He obviously liked Halloween but she got her explanation when she started up the steps. 

“Got a niece and I watch her for my sister sometimes.” He began to satiate her ravenous curiosity. Y/N was dying for any bit of information about him. “We uh, we had a pumpkin carving night with her and my mum.” There wasn’t any embarrassment which she loved. The man in front of her seemed to love his family with no shame and that was attractive to her beyond belief, her wide smile pairing with her nod. 

“You get cuter the more I get to know about you.” Being openly flirtatious wasn't her norm, no, but she wanted Harry to actually see she liked him. She was sensitive to his insecurities and wanted it undeniable that she was into him, which wouldn’t be hard to prove. She really, really did. “Though I’m sad I missed out. I haven’t carved a pumpkin in years.” 

Not wanting to be presumptuous, her bag was left in her car but… she definitely did want to stay for a while. 

“That’s awful.” He clicked his tongue. “If I had a spare, I’d remedy that but… maybe another night.” The hint towards having more time with her away from the attraction made her heart soar if she was being honest, but she tried to hold composure so her smile didn’t look absolutely insane. 

“I’m holding you to that.” She controlled her grin as he stood up, opening the front door for her. Immediately she was greeted with a comforting home. It was the exact opposite of what she had expected as a bachelor living alone. Photos of what looked to be his family on the walls, the odd art piece, a hanging rack with his keys and a few beanies and a sweater. He had a wicker shoe rack and a woven red rug in the entryway, stairs immediately to the left and what looked to be a dining room to the side. 

“I’m sorry for a bit of a mess. I don’t really have people over much, so my dining room is my work space and… yeah. It’s got papers and shit.” He rubbed the back of her neck. “My office got small and I like to spread out.” It was a cute little quirk that she found to be fucking endearing. Seeing the neat stacks of paper and his laptop, what looked to be a light box? She wasn’t sure, but she thought she recognized it. He had a knit cardigan hanging off the back of a leather office chair on wheels, softening the look of it and making her wonder what he was like outside of work even more. He seemed to be… soft. 

The house smelled like apples and cinnamon and she saw a wax melter thing as they walked through and he led her towards the living room, a step down to the space from the kitchen. Hardwood covered in a few different rugs that should look bad but didn’t. They all fit somehow, even on top of one another. A soft looking couch and giant bean bag looking thing were there too, making her wonder which he preferred to sit in. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked, standing with his hands behind his back. A slightly nervous thing he did. “I’m gonna go uh, take the makeup off.” It broke her heart to see his nerves come back like that. Her hand gently tugged on his arm, trying and succeeding to pull his hand into her own. 

“I’m fine for right now but, I just wanted to remind you that I do like you already. I want to get to know you, to see your face. Okay?” Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand, noting his knuckles were still split. He’d blamed it on the gym. “I know it’s still scary but believe me when I say that you aren’t going to scare me away, and I’m not going to tell everyone what you look like. You’re safe with me.” 

Her reassurance seemed to do a lot, his head falling from his stiff shoulders and looking at his feet as he sighed. Of course he was riddled with nerves. The one girl he actually liked had never seen him without his so-called mask, and he knew he could look jarring to people who weren’t prepared- but there was no use in wasting time. 

“Alright. I trust you.” Weirdly enough, he actually did. 

-

Hearing Harry’s return down the stairs, Y/N sat up a bit straighter. He’d been gone for about 10 minutes, 15 maybe. She tried to distract herself on her phone but it would be a lie to say that it worked. Her own nerves were acting out. Her biggest fear was reacting in a way he perceived as negative. He was trusting her with this, and she really didn’t want to fuck it up. 

Y/N had no idea what to expect besides a scar.  So seeing his face for the first time had really thrown her for a loop- because the scar held the least of her attention. 

Harry was hot. Handsome. Attractive. Every word you could use to describe a god of a man, that’s what she would use to identify him. 

His hair that was usually slicked back had been washed clean, damp waves falling slightly in his face. Paler skin than she had imagined, but it was still beautiful. His nose was on the bigger side like she preferred. His jaw and cheeks sharp, carved to perfection. If she could have compared him to anything it would be one of those Greek statues, or maybe what she had always imagined Apollo to look like. His skin was smooth and it looked soft, sans the slight stubble on his chin and around his mouth- she was familiar with that, though. So were her thighs. 

His eyes looked even greener like this, not hidden behind the elaborate makeup. His lashes were still slightly clumped together from the shower, and by the time he had hesitantly sat in front of her, she was itching to have the eyes look up and back into hers. 

The scar was noticeable, yes. It went down his face as he had previously described, the pinker skin with some puckering trailing down his left side. It made her heart hurt to know that this was the cause of his insecurities though, because honestly? In her opinion, it didn’t take away from his beauty. 

It wasn’t often that she would describe a man as beautiful, but he truly was. Her words escaped her for a moment, but as soon as she had a coherent thought, she took a breath. “Harry….” She began to reach a hand up before pausing. “Can I?” Motioning to his face. He hesitated before nodding, leaning forward. 

Her hands cupped both of his cheeks, looking over his face with a saccharine smile, feeling the heated skin under her fingertips as she traced over the raised skin. “You are absolutely fucking beautiful.” She mumbled. “Wow. You had nothing to worry about because… I’m a little shocked at how attractive you are. Knew you would be regardless but I'm kind of in awe of you.” She laughed, making him smile. She could feel it under her hands, pulling one away to make a discovery. 

“For fucks sake! You’ve got a dimple too?” She whined. “That’s unfair. You should get to choose between chiseled features and dimples.”

Harry was flushed, but he joined in her laughter. There was no part of it that felt inauthentic. A bit of him felt silly, actually, with seeing her react so well. He’d worked himself up, gotten so anxious and upset over the prospect of her seeing him and being horrified that he had almost denied himself of getting to know her deeper. 

“Yeah?” A shy tone tinged his voice making him want to cringe, but he truly was slightly shocked at how well she took it. 

“Yep.” She chirped, climbing into his lap, helping herself to him. His hands went around her body as she took a closer look at him, seemingly enjoying what she saw and it made him a little flustered. The look in her eye was of genuine desire and attraction, the same if not more intense from when she had flirted with him at work. It wasn’t a reaction he was used to- or one he really looked for. “Harry… can I be honest?” 

His stomach dropped to his feet, terrified for a mere moment before she continued at his jerking nod. “I think people stare at you because you’re fucking hot.” The blunt words were not at all what he expected, eyebrows shooting up at the opinion of hers. That’s… certainly not what he had thought she would say. “I’m serious. I’m kinda drooling over you. I have and do when you’re in your costume cause, duh, but you’re genuinely one of the most attractive people I’ve ever seen. And the scar…” her finger ran over it on his cheek. “It’s part of you. It’s attractive. To me, and I’m sure many others.” Her mouth turned downwards for a second. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to erase the trauma you had to endure from growing up with it. I’m positive people have bullied you and said horrific things. But I just think… more people probably find you attractive than you realize. And your ex girlfriends are absolute fucking morons, no offense.” 

The passion in her last statement had him sputtering out a laugh. She truly meant that! “I can’t say that’s the reaction I expected but, it’s better than I hoped.” He admitted, arms looped around her waist. Her eyes were drinking him in and admiring him, something he wasn’t used to. Maybe she was right about that, but he was used to and conditioned to believe his scar was ugly. Her approval wouldn’t necessarily fix that overnight but it definitely gave him a confidence boost. 

“I’m sorry I hid from you.” His voice was quiet, letting her explore his face. “I really… I really liked you and I was so scared that it would scare you off. I got in my head about it. I don’t like being known as the ‘scar guy’ when there’s a lot more to me but I knew that if people at work knew what I’d look like they’d see me as that.” Which, it was understandable. Y/N seemed to get it, nodding along in support. “I don’t think I’m ready to show my scar there. I kinda of like being someone else there, but…” he licked over his bottom lip. “I'd like for you to see the real me. If that’s something you’d still be interested in.” 

“Of course it is, Harry.” She insisted. “I’m only more into you now. Don’t get me wrong, your makeup is sexy and I love your persona there but… you’re right. There’s so much more to you that I’m dying to learn.” Her fingers pushed his damp curls from his eyes, exposing his face and tipping it up so she could brush her lips against his scarred cheek for a soft peck.  “So let’s start. Tell me who you are.”

[orpheusluvr]

Sweet Defeat (Ithaqua x Female Reader)

NSFW WARNING

A first ever defeat for this pro hunter has left him feeling distressed, but maybe you’ll be able to turn things around for him.

After your last match, you couldn’t find Ithaqua anywhere in the manor. You constantly asked the survivors, some of them giving you a puzzling look as to why you were so concerned about looking for a hunter.

You were just feeling bad for him after his defeat. His first ever defeat. You wanted to check up on him because you knew he’d be extremely upset about it. Because why wouldn’t he? This was such a big thing for him. Every hunter looked up to him, even aspired to be him. He was the many causes of their victories. The survivors on the other hand feared him the most, but still did congratulate him on his wins.

Eventually, you found him sitting alone on the ground in the greenhouse, reading a book. Despite half of his face being covered with his mask, you could already sense the sadness that he had. Especially by the way he was sat. Though, you had no idea how he was able to sit in that position considering his already large height that was even larger due to the stilts that he wore. But that was Ithaqua for you.

Ithaqua wasn’t just upset about losing the match. He was also upset because he assumed that you couldn’t take his hints at all.

He liked you a lot. The only survivor he actually felt a connection towards. And that’s why he always made sure to spare you at least, while defeating your 3 other teammates. He thought his efforts were being wasted, because you never seemed to change your actions towards him.

But he was wrong. You knew all along, but you just needed the right moment to make a move. To make him know that you liked him too.

And perhaps, today was a good time for it. Maybe this defeat is exactly what you need.

You slowly walked towards him. He knew you were there, but he didn’t bother moving or saying anything.

“Ithaqua…are you alright?” You gently said.

“If you’re here to taunt me about my loss, then go away.” He spoke coldly. His voice pierced through your soul.

“No…it’s nothing like that. I was just here to check up on you.” You reassured him.

“Alright, well you’ve done what you needed to do. Now, leave.” He said, the coldness in his voice still lingering.

You took a deep breath as you took his book out of his hands and placed it on the bench next to him.

“Hey! What are you-”

His words were cut off when you pushed your hair back and gently sat on his lap. His breath hitched, feeling himself become harder after finally feeling something press against his intimate area. You could also feel him, which made the heat in your core build up.

“Y/N…this is…”

Ithaqua held your shoulders, taking a moment to appreciate the view in front of him.

“Ithaqua…I know how you feel about me. And I wanted to return the favour since you always spare me in matches.” You said.

You took a deep breath.

“And…I like you too.” You smiled.

He suddenly felt as though he’d forgotten what happened today after you said those simple yet powerful words. All the weight from his shoulders had lifted.

“What did you say?” He said.

“Ithaqua. I like you. No, I love you.” You said.

He immediately pushed you down onto the ground, though not too quickly as he didn’t want to hurt you. Towering above you, he glanced at your figure. A small smirk appearing on his face.

“I love you more.” He said, before diving right in and placing a bite on your neck. He gently sucked, but enough to leave a mark. You held onto his blonde hair, slightly grabbing it as he continued peppering you with kisses all over your face, shoulders and neck. He wanted to show how much he loved you. Every part of you.

You feared that someone would walk in and see you both, considering that this was a public space. But you also knew that only Melly Plinius, the Entomologist, used the greenhouse. Right now, she was in a match and she wouldn’t be back for a while. It’s not like the first place she’d go to would be the greenhouse either; most survivors return straight away to their rooms to rest after a match.

Ithaqua on the other hand began lifting your shirt, placing more kisses along your chest and moving lower to your waist. Your breathing became faster the more lower he went, closer to your intimate area. Your moaning increased too, which drove him wild. He just wanted to do you right then and there, but he knew he had to take it slow at first. He wanted to admire your body slowly considering that it was his first time seeing it, then when the time was right, he’d violently thrust into you in no time. Fast and hard.

He lifted his head and sat up, admiring his work for a moment before leaning in and kissing you, tasting every part of you. The taste that he craved. You tasted sweet, like blueberries and strawberries. He on the other hand, tasted sour. Poisonous even. You weren’t surprised considering the type of person he was. But you still indulged deeper into the kiss, moaning between each of his movements. Gently lifting you up, he caressed you lovingly into his arms after you broke from the kiss, his hands gently rubbing against your back.

His hands kept wandering towards the clasp to your bra.

“Yes, you can take it off.” You whispered.

“How did you know I was going to ask?” He said.

You shrugged, then gave a quiet laugh.

He unclasped your bra, lifting it down from your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. Although he was still wearing his mask, you could sense the lust within his eyes.

“Oh…they look so tempting.” He said, staring at your breasts.

“What are you waiting for? They’re all yours.” You playfully shake yourself, your breasts following your movements. Ithaqua immediately pins you onto the ground again, desperately sucking on one of your breasts while caressing the other.

“Ngh…Itha…that feels s-so good…” you moaned. The more you moaned for him, the more he found it harder to control himself. He had to be patient. He forced himself as much as he could.

How could someone like him be this patient?

But eventually, he gave up. One last lick around your nipple, and he was already leaning above you, sliding down your pants and then your panties, and also removing the belt to his pants and letting them fall down.

Your eyes widened at his huge length. Not surprising considering his huge height, but it still shocked you. You would probably only be able to fit half of him inside you.

“Itha…it’s not going to fit…” you gave an alarmed cry.

He immediately caressed your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it fit.” He smiled.

“But that’s not what I mea-”

He immediately entered inside you without warning, and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the loud moan that escaped your lips. The loudest moan you’ve let out ever since. Your eyes welled up with tears, a stinging yet pleasurable sensation in your core as your walls clamped around his length and adjusted itself to this new feeling. This new member.

Ithaqua placed a kiss on your forehead, as he began thrusting. You grabbed onto his hair, your cries mixed with your moans.

“Itha…it hurts…it really hurts…” you whimpered.

For the first time, he actually became concerned, so he stopped.

“Okay…I’ll go slower.” He wiped your tears again.

And he did. It felt less painful, but it was agonisingly slow. Even Ithaqua didn’t seem to enjoy himself, but he didn’t want to hurt you either.

But there was a voice in his head telling him to go faster. To destroy you.

Because weren’t you the reason for his loss today? You were constantly on his mind, so much that he kept missing his attacks. How did he not manage to terror shock that one survivor? Oh, right. It was because you were walking past and he got distracted by you.

He clenched his fist, quickening his pace as he let out a groan.

You felt like you were going to pass out. The overstimulation was driving you crazy. Eventually, you reached your climax, coating his cock with your essence while some of it spilled out. A few moments later, he also reached his climax, painting your walls with his cum.

You lay there, a shaking mess of tears and sweat. Ithaqua seemed unaffected, he was clearly ready for a round two. Not surprising considering the incredible stamina that hunters had. All you could manage was a sigh.

He didn’t pull out of you, instead he moved back the hair that was sticking to your face and kissed both of your cheeks.

“Thank you, Y/N.” His voice gentle and loving. Completely different from how he usually was.

You could only manage a smile, before you closed your eyes and fell asleep. Ithaqua gave a smile as he looked at you with adoration. How innocent you looked after doing something so lustful and scandalous.

Ithaqua wasn’t bothered about losing matches anymore. Sometimes he even did it on purpose.

Because he knew that you’d always be there to comfort him and make him forget about his loss, and he wanted these moments to last longer.

[minsheart]

LATE NIGHT CUDDLES [OT8]

pairings: boyfriend!ot8 x reader genre: fluff word count: 1487 (total) cw: mentions of reader having boobs in jisung's part, slight mention of sex in felix's part a/n: wrote this while listening to red lights on repeat. oh how i miss hyunchan

bang chan | 방찬: late night cuddles with chan feel best when he comes home late from the studio and right into your arms. he spent the last few hours trying to get the perfect beat for the upcoming songs and saying he's tired would be an understatement. but coming home to you and being able to rest and let his stress leave his body makes it all worth it. chan wouldn't have it any other way.

chan’s cuddles are warm and tender. his arms wrap around you in a bear hug, letting all your worries melt aways in each other's embrace. sometimes, when you can't sleep, chan will hold you close and caress your skin as he tells you about his day or something funny that happened to one of the other members. when he notices your chest finally lightly rising and falling as you held your eyes shut, he smiles a little to himself. pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he settles himself in bed next to you — wondering how you managed to look so pretty even while you slept.

lee minho | 이민호: late night cuddles with minho feel best when soonie, doongie and dori are also snuggled against the both of you. when you’re watching a movie, his arms are lazily placed around your waist and you can feel the cats’ fur brush against you while they quietly purr. when he averts his gaze and his ears get red once you catch him looking at you instead of the screen. several times.

minho’s cuddles are sweet and quiet. minho isn’t one to prefer words over skinship when it comes to you. if possible, he’d spend the entire day in bed, leaning against you every single second. there are times when you can’t hear a single noise other than the sheets moving with minho settling himself in a more comfortable position. however, the silence feels good. being able to share precious moments together without having the need to speak is something he treasures a lot. he’ll bury his face into the crook of your neck and kiss your skin every once in a while, falling asleep on you not long after.

seo changbin | 서창빈: late night cuddles with changbin feel best when you're just chatting with each other, his big arms wrapped around you and your head resting against his head. he find it to be very intimate when it's just the two of you without any distractions. all his attention is on you while you tell him about your day, thinking of how cute you looked with your eyes gazing up at him.

changbin's cuddles are affectionate and playful. he'll hold your tight against him, squeezing you once or twice to get you to laugh. he’ll pepper your face with kisses and when you tease him back the same way, he'll get all shy with that cute smile of his. cuddles between the two of you are lively and you chat most of the time, joking around. but when you both are tired and feel like resting, you have no problem in remaining silent, clinging to each other and falling asleep in no time — changbin’s chest is the best pillow ever.

hwang hyunjin | 황현진: late night cuddles with hyunjin feel best when you’re lying down on the bench in the balcony, stargazing together and having meaningful conversations. your head rests on his chest, nuzzling deeper as you slowly fall asleep on him and, when you do, he smiles gently to himself, caressing your back, eyes glued to the sky.

hyunjin’s cuddles are romantic and gentle. he loves leaving one of his hands on your waist while the other affectionately caresses your hair. he  enjoys cuddling you while watching those emotional movies that will definitely get a tear out of at least one of you. he thinks it’s really heartwarming to spend moments like this with you. kisses are also a must whenever you’re snuggling together. on the crown of your head, on your forehead, cheeks, lips, neck — he’ll kiss you all over your face as his hand wanders over your body. after all, he has to admire the masterpiece before him. hyunjin also makes sure to whisper to you every now and then, saying how good you look and how much he loves you. this man has got you weak in the knees.

han jisung | 한지성: late night cuddles with jisung feel best when he’s asleep on top of you. head buried in your chest as you run a hand through his hair. you’ve always thought he was adorable, but somehow he manages to look even cuter like this, knowing how tired he’s been lately and that he came to you to be able to rest. you feel glad knowing how much he’s comfortable around you.

jisung’s cuddles are intimate and soft. he doesn’t mind being the big or the little spoon, as he gets to hold you either way. when he’s the big spoon, he’ll always have this arm draped around your waist, 24/7, no questions asked. he feels like his arms fit perfectly around it — as if it was made just for him. and when he’s the little spoon, his head will rest on your boobs, remaining in pure bliss. how could he not? they’re so soft, falling asleep on them feels so good. jisung is a total sucker for skinship, and cuddling you never fails to make his day a thousand times better.

lee felix | 이필릭스: late night cuddles with felix feel best after he’s done with gaming for the night and crawls into bed with you, pressing against your body from behind as you whisper to each other, chatting. he tenderly caresses your hip with one hand and with the other, his fingers interlock with yours, slowly but surely lulling you to sleep.

felix’s cuddles are attentive and delicate. he always holds you as if you were made out of porcelain — if he’s too rough with you, he feels like you're going to break (in bed is a different story). he always makes sure to be gentle and soft towards you, taking his time to enjoy the feeling of your body against his. it isn’t unusual for one of you to end up asleep — even if it’s in the middle of that day. felix’s body is so warm and his touch is so sweet that you can’t help but close your eyes and, before you know it, when you open them again, it’s nighttime. you look up, seeing felix’s eyes shut and his breathing steady, his blond hair slightly messy. you chuckle. if you could, you’d live like this forever.

kim seungmin | 김승민: late night cuddles with seungmin feel best when none of you can bring yourselves to go to bed and sleep. you lay on the couch together, your head resting against seungmin’s shoulder as his hand slides under your shirt and caresses your skin gently, both of you looking at his phone while he scrolls through social media.

seungmin’s cuddles are loving and sweet. he loves to place his hand under your shirt, feeling the soft skin under your clothes. his thumb caresses your side tenderly, smiling as he glances towards you every now and then. you cling onto him sweetly, watching his eyes wander around the room as he talks to you about his schedule, only for them to fall back on you eventually. seungmin is naturally softer towards you and isn’t one to be too energetic at night, but when he is, be prepared to receive a tickle attack when you least expect it. he won’t stop until you’re laughing so hard you can feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes. he’ll let you go with a smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips afterwards. he can't help it — he gets a cuteness aggression overload from you.

yang jeongin | 양정인: late night cuddles with jeongin feel best when the two of you are simply looking up to the ceiling, holding each other as his playlist plays in the background. you vibe to the music together, singing some lyrics together as you laugh at one another when you’re off-key. as you eventually grow tired, the songs playing become calmer — almost as if he could tell the time you’d be falling asleep.

jeongin's cuddles are innocent and heartwarming. his hands caress all over your body with care and passion. his fingers feel warm against your skin, making you melt under his touch — is he even aware of what he's doing to you? probably, yes. and he loves every moment of it. you cling to him, resting your head on his chest as you seek comfort in each other's embrace. you chat quietly, your voices mere whispers as you discuss potential plans for the future. the thought of spending your life like this with jeongin makes your heart flutter, and he definitely wants to share all the time he has with you.

© minsheart, 2024

[obsessive-valentine]

Errmmm what about yandre beffy military men 🥹🥹🥹

Yandere!Ex-Military-Man x GN!Reader

Probably not what you were asking for but it inspired me to write this, hope you like this bear with a soft heart and a whole lot of feelings. Dry random Headcanons let me know if you want more of him. TW unspecified age gap and mention of murder

He retired from the military after serving for 10 years, wanting to go back to working odd jobs and having peace and quiet. He didn’t have much waiting for him when he got home but his community sure did respect him and he missed his home. That’s as until you came along. He wasn’t expecting to find love at all, especially now he’s late 30’s and on top of that his time serving aged his face.

Often you both get odd looks and maybe offensive questions about the age gap, but he doesn’t get offended usually bluntly correcting them and carrying on with his day not giving it a second thought.

He’d messed around with a few women but they never went far, it never felt right. But with you he wants to take it slow, make sure you know he loves you as a equal not as some phase to get his rocks off. Maybe he’ll marry you one day.

Scary dog privileges any time anywhere, he’s most always looming behind you scaring off anyone he wants.

Convinces you to spend most nights at his house, he doesn’t expect sex or anything, he just likes being able to provide for you and be around you. Which is a bit hard in the beginning of the relationship when you live else where.

At some point it becomes more logical to live with him officially instead of paying rent to a place you rarely go. Especially when the heating or air-con keeps suspiciously breaking, so you have to go to his house to cuddle up or use his pool to cool down.

He’s pretty domestic for a man who could bench press a bear, loves cooking dinner for you and sometimes visits your work to drop off food if he’s passing by (actually books out time from work to deliver you food)

Could and would kill for you. He’s learned a lot during his serving years and is could be very dangerous with just his hands.

Very affectionate, be prepared for lots of PDA. Also possessive, always has a arm slung around you or holding your hand just so people get the message and don’t try ask your number or gawk at you right infront of him.

Can seem a bit stand-off-ish and reserved when around others but when you show up there’s a noticeable relaxing effect on him. He also doesn’t get angry in-front of you, he’s learned how to keep his anger to himself and blow it off at the gym. Pretty controlled with his emotions for a man who feels a lot.

You help him sleep peacefully, some nights he gets up a few times from unpleasant memories and possible PTSD, but not so much with you around.

Maybe sometimes unintentionally man-handles you... lovingly though! He can’t help but snatch you up or pull you onto his chest when his feelings get to big. Would stop at the slightest sign of discomfort.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Inn Love Chapter 3

one two

cw: money issue talks, feelings of failure, james and reader being in love and idiots, a little angst (?) friends to lovers

wc: 2.6

“It’s not looking good,” you mutter to Mary, head in your hands as you go over the accounts one more time. 

“It’s the off season, we’ll find something else to do.” 

She’s too kind, too understanding. You wish she’d blow up at you and quit for not being able to pay her on time. 

You sigh, long and hard. You have to figure it out. The Secret Garden is your baby, and even though this is your second year owning it, you’ve still not figured out how to supplement the off season so you make a profit. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to. 

“We might have to. How do you feel about starting up line dancing lessons for a little bit? Just until I figure it out?” 

Mary grins, nodding her head. “I’ve missed it some. Won’t exactly be hard to get back into.” 

Mary’s the best worker you have. The only one you have really, but she’s still the best. 

You close up your books, and double check that all the rooms have been checked out of and begin locking up. 

James is waiting for you on your front steps, hat tipped low as he leans against one of the beams. 

“Hey Jamie, didn’t know you were stopping by.” 

You try for chipper, a smile in your voice as you hold your tote bag on your shoulder. 

“Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

You pause, reaching right in front of him. It’s instant, the way a frown fights for the space of your smile. It’s also instant the way James notices. 

“What’s wrong?” He takes your bag from you, leading you to his truck. 

“Nothing. Where are we getting lunch?” 

James frowns a little bit, but doesn’t press. “Had Chinese dropped off to the house, got all your favourites.” 

You grin, James does this a lot and it makes your stomach flip every time. 

“Meet you there?” 

James frowns again, then shrugs. “Yeah, darling.” 

You double back to your own truck, James setting your bag in the bench seat. 

You watch James pull out first and take a moment to collect all your worry and all your anxiety and stuff it deep in your chest, burying it with a bit of hay before sighing. 

You can’t let James see you’re worried or anxious, he’ll sniff the information out of you and if you tell James then you’d have failed. 

The first year it was understandable, the second year; you’re not sure you could tell the person who helped you build the inn from the ground up that you’ve been having months of money troubles. 

You pull up behind James, sliding out of your car and racing him to the front door. 

“You still cheat.” he says with a smile, you shrug while pushing open the door. Inside James’ house, you’d think it was hot, all the southern heat trapped in the walls, but it’s always cool. 

He’d explained it to you once, the stone and wood kept it cool, but also he had put in a central air con to maintain the chill. 

“I got shorter legs than you James, it’d never be fair.” 

James shakes his head, following you to his dining table where all the boxes are already laid out. 

“How much noodles am I allowed?” James rolls his eyes. You always eat most of it and he always gets you your own box because why deprive you of your favourite thing?

James doesn’t think there��s actually anything he could deprive you of. 

“Does lack of sleep mess with your memory?”

You grin when he passes you an entire box, and then the rest of what you usually like.

As you eat, the talking kind of subsides, which is weird by yours and James’ standards.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” He asks when you migrate to the living room, laying out long on his sofa while he sits with your feet in his lap. 

“What do you mean, Jamie?” You try hard not to stiffen your body as you respond. 

He sighs, hands squeezing the arches of your feet. “I dunno, something feels wrong. Like you feel down.” 

God you could cry right now. James has always been in tune to you like this, as you are with him, but it sometimes gets to be too much because lying to your best friend hurts. Especially when he can tell something is off. 

“Just tired I guess.” you shrug one of your shoulders. James hums but doesn’t say anything and you feel guilt like a hot poker in your stomach. 

You wiggle your toes in his lap and his hands fall back to massaging them. 

“Wanna watch ‘How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days’?” 

James never has to ask twice. 

You don’t mean to, but you and James fall asleep right there on his sofa. Some time during the night you’ve shifted, he’s laying under you and your head is on part of his chest with your legs tangled up. 

The only reason you wake up is because James’ alarm is blaring and you’ve got the worst crick in your neck.

“Make it stop,” you grumble, hiding your face in his chest as he stretches. It’s comfortable even for friends, the way James holds onto your waist as he leans over you to grab his phone. 

“Shit, s’nearly four. You gotta go darling.” 

You’d lasted nearly a whole three minutes without thinking about the fact that The Secret Garden wasn’t doing well. 

Almost awkwardly, which is strange for you and James, you sit up. As you stretch all your joints crack and you sigh where James winces. He’s always hated how you can just crack your bones like that- he worries you’ll break them one day. 

“Nah I got the day off.” 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “So the TSG is closed today?” 

You wish your friend wouldn’t ask so many questions. Lying to him is hard work. 

“Mary’s running the morning shift today.” James looks a little sceptical but drops it, making his way to the stairs. 

“M’gonna get ready. You staying on the ranch then?” 

You nod, what else is there for you to do? Plus if you use your ‘day off’ to be anywhere but the ranch, say going job hunting or to the bank, your quiet little town will somehow have your going-ons back to James in no time. 

“Heat up breakfast and I’ll make us coffee.” James is back down in ten minutes, showered and changed into his wranglers, a thin white t-shirt and his work boots. 

You’re sure you’ve got yours around here somewhere.

James and you work like a well greased machine, making breakfast and coffee and doing the dishes all in one go. 

He tilts his head to the screen door in the kitchen that leads to his side porch.  

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me and then go round do some ranch chores?” 

“Still got my boots in the coat closet?” you ask and James rolls his eyes. 

“When has anything of yours left this house? You’re everywhere in here.” His gaze is too intense for you to laugh it off. It also makes you feel like you’ve caged race horses in your stomach and they’re butting their fences. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Jamie.” is all you can manage before going in search of your boots.

James doesn’t think it’s a bad thing at all. Honestly, he wishes there were more of you in his house; he’s just not sure if saying that to you will cost him everything. 

Shoving your feet into the boots you sigh, then take a peek out at the sky and shiver. “I’m taking a coat.”

“Take anything you want.” 

This is why you can’t tell James about your money troubles. He’s going to give you anything to turn it around, but you’re not sure if anything he can give will. You also can’t use him anymore than you already do. 

“Race you to the stables!” James takes off before you can even put down your empty mug. 

“You’re such a cheater!” You whine as you race behind him, his laugh floating back to you as you reach the stable doors. 

“Takes one to know one,” he says playfully, causing you to roll your eyes.

James holds the door open for you and as soon as you get in you head for Snowglobe. 

“My baby,”  you coo, already kissing the side of his face while James lets his own horse, Landslide, out.  

“You’d swear he wasn’t nearly twenty three.”

“Don’t remind me Jamie.” you grab a brush and go through the usual maintenance just as James does with his horse. 

“We’re riding up to the fences to check on the horses, then we’re feeding them.” James talks about his day like it’s easy, but you remember the hard work that goes into ranching. You’ve got your work cut out for you, and you’re not even doing the hard stuff like moving hay or any of that. 

“Lead the way, Cowboy.” 

After a couple hours, you go back to the big house and take a shower, well and truly exhausted. James wouldn’t let you haul hay, so you’d been feeding the animals, cleaning the stables and doing a bit of general cleaning up around the ranch while he and his farmhands mended parts of the fence, herded the cows and hauled the dried heaps of hay. 

By the time James comes in, you’re halfway through preparing dinner- beef stew. 

“I would’ve cooked after my shower, darling.” James says as he hangs up his hat and boots. 

“Yeah, but now by the time you come back down, we can eat together.” 

James frowns again, you’ve never been away from TSG for this long since it’s been opened and it’s worrying him that you won’t talk to him about it. 

If he’s honest, you haven’t gushed about the inn since you left it yesterday- which is very unlike you. That place is your pride and joy and everyone knows it. Especially James. 

He holds his tongue on his worry and nods. 

“I’ll be back in ten.” 

Through dinner, you’re on your phone, checking your accounts, trying to see where you can make more money or if you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to. 

After your sixth sigh in ten minutes, James sets his cutlery down and reaches a hand for you.

“Darling, I know you said it’s nothing, but it’s clearly not. Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Before you can answer, Sirius bursts through James’ house. 

“Did you see TSG’s been closed all day? Wonder if everything’s okay.” 

You freeze in your seat when James turns to you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 

Sirius coughs to dispel his embarrassment. “Sorry doll face. But why are you closed? Is everything alright?” 

You can’t even be upset with Sirius because for all of his faults, he’s always concerned about you. He feels very much like an older brother in that way, even when he’s giving you shit. 

You rest your head on the table and sigh. 

“Don’t be upset Jamie,” you start, slow and more than a little nervous. You don’t know how you’ll feel if James is angry with you. You don’t want to feel like a failure to him. You don’t want to fail yourself even more. 

“I think I’m gonna have to close the inn.” 

Sirius gasps, James frowns. “Forever or for a while?” 

You lift your head, “For a while. I’m not sure how long. I’ve got to go over the account but we’re not making a profit right now.” 

“Darling,” he says at the same time Sirius swears. 

Tears spring in your eyes. “I know, it hasn’t been making profit or any sort of money for a couple months but I thought it would pick up again, but I guess late summer is not our season.” 

James stands quickly when your first tear falls and Sirius ruffles your head. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, it happens. I can help you work through it.” You shake your head at James’ proposal. 

“You helped me start it up and I can’t even keep it running through the entire year. I can’t expect you to help me every year that I have a slow period.” 

Sirius tuts, “You could always sell your bakes in the off time, dollface.” 

James wipes your tears away, “I can still help. I don’t mind helping out.” 

You shake your head. Sirius seems to get it before James does, and what it is you’re trying to say. 

“No Jamie, I think maybe working on the ranch or doing a little baking on the side would be good. Right doll?” 

You nod, “I don’t wanna keep using you Jamie.” 

James tuts, tilting your chin up. Sirius takes his cue and goes into the kitchen, looking through James’ pantry. 

“You don’t use me. You’ve never used me.” It’s hard to argue with James when he speaks with such conviction but you know you have. 

“But I did. When I was opening up TSG, it was you helping me.” 

James smiles then, “Yeah I helped, darling. It was a mutual thing. We’re friends, of course I helped you. And I can help again, but if you want to do this part on your own, I’d get it.” 

James wipes your tears, gentle and sweet as ever. “I need to go do a final closing for the season and set some things in place, but can I stay here in the meantime?” You force the words out, soft and whispered against the space between you and James. 

“You can stay here as long as you like,” 

“Thanks Jamie.” 

He shrugs, dimple poking out in his cheek as he smiles at you. “You’re always welcome darling, c’mon I’ll drive you to TSG and help with lock up.” 

As it turns out, telling James you’d been struggling wasn’t that bad. It was hard and you’d felt like a failure for a little bit, but he talked good sense into you and now you’re staying with him till the start of autumn. 

“I can work the ranch, Jamie.” You proposed on your second night on his sofa. 

“You cannot work the entire ranch.” James wasn’t even being funny about it either. You really can’t. You get cut up easily and you blister worse than he does. 

“Okay, I can work the stables.” 

James rolls his eyes good naturedly, tossing a bit of popcorn at you. You’d both been watching a new horror that James had seen advertising. Watching is a generous word because you both talk through all the dull parts and you squeeze his fingers in anxiety during the freaky parts. 

“As opposed to?” 

You giggle, “Hey, I can work the garden or help milk the cows.” 

James chuckles then, his dimple on display making you want to poke your finger in it. “Same cows you’re afraid of? You can work the stables darling, you know your way around it.” 

You squeal, leaning up and closer to James to kiss his cheek. You love doing it because James goes red hot and can’t stop his flush. Even as kids he’d go beet red the minute you gave him a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re the best James. The best ever.” 

He grins, “I’m glad you finally noticed.” The pillow behind your head whacks him in the face as you groan. 

“That was yuck, don’t ever say that again.” James laughs through your disgust, slotting your pillow behind your back again and holding your feet in his lap as the horror builds. 

[foxaftershocks]

HEAR ME OUT!! Lars with a reader, who was a ghost but somehow got their life back. Because of that, reader is pretty much forced to be in the lab 24/7 (much to their disdain) with Lars running tests on them. Enemies to lovers 🫶

(Also, you're like the best author ever on here.)

Clearly I really liked this prompt because I wrote a lot for it. Like, seriously, this is so long. I hope you like it as much as I do.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Lars growled under his breath, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Sitting on the able, feet kicking backwards and forwards, you were grinning at him with such smugness it made his blood boil. He knew how to do his job without the input of a woman who knew nothing about parapsychology. You weren’t a scientist. You were just some girl who happened to come back to life. Nothing special.

“Still wrong,” you sung.

His fingers tightened around your arm, holding you still. He tightened the band around your bicep, pressing the electrodes against your chest with more force than was necessary. You muttered something just outside of his hearing, most likely a curse word. Your swearing was not something he was unfamiliar with. It had been resounding through the lab for weeks now.

“Just sit still,” he ordered, returning to his equipment.

You wiggled right up until the point he turned the machine on, probably trying to make a point. If you were, he missed it through disinterest. He watched the output on the machine, your heartbeat strong and steady. No blips, nothing to suggest you’d once been a ghost.

“Anything?” you asked.

He pressed his lips together. You could never just sit in silence, continually talking in his ear, playing with his stuff. Your presence was was unending. You had been made to live in the lab while they worked out how you’d come back, and as someone who basically lived in the lab himself, you had seemed to designate him as your favourite form of entertainment. You needled him. He knew it. And yet he kept letting you get under his skin.

“Not if you keep talking,” he said.

He got up, moving closer to readjust a few of the monitors. Returning back to the readout, there was a spike in your heart rate before it calmed down again. Interesting. Glancing up, you were glaring at him, seemingly not feeling the exertion you were showing.

“Feeling alright?” he asked.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Just answer the question,” he said.

“I feel fine,” you replied.

He watched you for another moment. Your head tipped up, looking to the ceiling as your feet continued to kick. You did seem fine. He had to trust you on that.

He hated not having answers.

You floated away on soft footsteps when he released you from his tests. You didn’t even bother saying goodbye and he knew it’s because he’d be seeing you later. You never seemed able to stop yourself from interrupting his day.

Looking back over the readouts the only thing that jumped out at him was the elevation in heart rate for a few minutes. Nothing else suggested anything had happened. He stared at it, trying to piece together what was going on. And yet it still wasn’t outside the bounds of normal mortal hearts.

Nothing indicated how you’d come back from being a ghost. Every test bringing up nothing. If he was a religious man, he would have said it was God playing a cosmic practical joke on him, sending him the one person who drove him crazy.

“If you never find anything am I forced to stay here until I become a ghost again?” you asked, appearing out of nowhere, whispering in his ear.

Perhaps you’d brought some things back with you when you’d become corporeal again. Silent as the wind, able to sneak up on him, your laughter echoing long after you were gone. It was eery and yet nothing indicated you were anything but a healthy human.

“You’ll stay here as long as necessary,” he replied, refusing to give you more.

“At what point does this become kidnapping?” you mused, hauling yourself up onto the bench in front of him.

Your feet kicked again, your toes brushing against his thigh. He froze, the feeling lingering before you did it again. He caught you, fingers circling your ankle. Your eyes found his, lips curling up into a slight smile. He stared back, caught in a bubble of time where everything stopped. Breath held and body frozen, the warmth of your soft skin against his making his head spin.

“Don’t tempt me to tie you up,” he murmured.

“Pretty kinky, Pinfield,” you said, voice soft and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were sharing a joke with him, “who knew you had it in you.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Your eyes lit up and he had to fight against the impulse to find out every single way he could make it happen again. There was something about it, the way it felt like a constant battle of wits with you. It was intoxicating.

He shoved your foot away, coming back to himself. You drew back from where you’d been leaning closer to him and he turned away, ignoring you as he tried to get on with work. From his peripheral vision he saw you slide back to the ground, a huffed laugh coming from you as you slipped away.

He lost track of you again, hours going by until the sun had gone down. A bed had been set up in what had once been a junk room for you to sleep in, the veneer of privacy all the lab could offer you. For months you’d been living there, under observation, in case something changed. There was no explanation for how you’d come back from your stint as a ghost. Nothing paranormal going on anymore.

You were a mystery he was determined to solve.

A bowl of noodles was slid in front of him. Looking up, he found you taking a seat across from him, your own bowl steaming in front of you. He looked down into it, his glasses steaming up with the condensation. He huffed, taking them off to wipe them clean. The expression on your face when he put them on again wasn’t one he’d seen before.

“What’s this?” he asked, nudging the bowl you’d placed in front of him.

“Ramen,” you replied, “only the instant stuff from the kitchen but it’s better than nothing.”

He sniffed, pursing his lips at you.

“It’s not poisoned,” you said.

Your chopsticks dipped into your own bowl, pulling noodles into your mouth. He watched you for a moment, before sighing, the rumble of his stomach enough to urge him on. If it was poisoned they’d find his body in the morning and be hunting you down.

“Is there a reason you stay so late every night?” you asked, “I know you’re not doing it to keep me company.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” he replied, surprised you’d asked.

“You sleep here sometimes,” you said, an offhand observation as you shovelled more noodles in your mouth.

“You always sleep here,” he replied.

“Not by choice,” you muttered, chopsticks stabbing down.

“Do you really hate it here so much?” he asked.

“Pinfield, you’ve made me a prisoner. I can’t leave without supervision. I can’t go home. You haven’t even let me contact my friends and family. You try being happy under those circumstances,” you said, levelling a glare at him.

“But you got a second chance,” he said, not hiding his frustration, “you came back. No one else has ever gotten that.”

“That you know of,” you said, almost in a sing song voice.

He paused for a moment. It’s true, someone else could have returned from ghosthood without being documented. It took long enough for people to even accept the existence of the paranormal. Documented cases were a mixed bag of those with scientific merit and those without.

“Can I expect to see you at breakfast?” you asked, “I have strawberry poptarts.”

“You’re mad if you think those are better than the brown sugar cinnamon ones,” he said.

“I have to assume this wrong opinion is because you’re not from here,” you said, sounding deadly serious.

“I’ve done the research. I have the data. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but the science speaks for itself,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, you can keep your pseudoscience and your bad taste to yourself. You’re not invited to breakfast anymore,” you said, sniffing.

The spike of irritation cut through the playful atmosphere. That word, pseudoscience, it was the exact thing to raise his hackles. He would never engage in such stupidity. To be reduced to such a word had his blood boiling.

But then he looked up and saw the way you were smiling into your ramen, eyes darting up to him, the twinkle obvious. The irritation melted away upon the realisation that you were poking fun at him. That you were joking. That you were purposefully trying to get under his skin. And you knew him well enough to do it with ease. He’d fallen right into your trap.

A spark of electricity ran through his veins at the realisation.

“Don’t work too hard, nerd,” you said, hopping off your stool, taking the empty bowl away from in front of him.

He watched you walk away, many things going on in his head. Mostly, surprise that it had been pleasant having dinner with you. That spark of playfulness made him want to follow you and that didn’t sit right with him.

Accepting that, he decided to head home, the night over for him. There was no chance he was going to be able to finish his work. Not when he knew you could be lurking in the shadows around him.

The next morning he found you sitting in front of the possessor’s enclosure, seeming to play with it from behind the plexiglass. One of those cursed poptarts was dangling from one hand, half eaten as your focus was completely on the ghost in front of you. He let himself watch you, knowing he wasn’t being watched in return. Your smile was bright, your laugh genuine, eyes sparkling as you played. It struck him that you’d never looked at him that way.

“Please tell me you’re not trying to convert the possessor to your inferior flavour of poptarts,” he said.

You looked up, the smile slipping from your face. With a grace he knew he would never had, you rose from your crossed legged position, looking at him with a scowl. Approaching, he found his eyes resting on the bit of icing clinging to the corner of your lips. Without much thought, he reached up, thumb brushing it free. You blinked, mouth falling open. He cursed inwardly, not sure what to make of his own actions.

“More tests today,” he said, hoping to sweep what he’d done under the rug.

“Yay, I cannot wait,” you said, the sarcasm back in your tone.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

You trailed behind him, finishing off your breakfast. He was trying to ignore it, the sound of you, the feeling of your skin burning the pad of his thumb, the unsettled feeling in his stomach. He didn’t even need to ask you as you hopped up onto the gurney that had been set up after one too many accidents in the lab. Having a routine with you felt intimate, like your lives were intwining too much and he wanted to force you out.

“Blood works today,” he said, already reaching for a needle.

“I’m going to be a ghost again from all the blood you take,” you muttered.

When he turned back to you, your hands were crossed over the front of your body, holding the hem of your jumper. It was like watching in slow motion as you lifted it over your head, exposing the tight tank top you had on underneath. His eyes were lingering on your body, longer than he knew was appropriate, and yet not able to stop.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you said, dumping the crumpled up jumper to one side.

He didn’t have an answer. The entire day was not going the way he expected and he felt off kilter, almost dizzy with his own reaction to you. Ignoring it, he stepped up to you, taking one arm. He was close enough to hear your snort, the brush of your breath against his skin sending a shiver down his spine.

With a soft fingertip, he traced over the veins inside your elbow. The breath seemed to stutter in your chest and he looked up at you, from under eyelashes, head still bowed over your arm. Your lips had parted again, something inexplicable on your face. He wanted to dig down into the expression, to take it apart until he understood every part of it. The look in your eyes was making him want to drag you closer.

“Don’t look,” he murmured, plucking the needle up from where it waited.

Your eyes closed, face turning away from him. He let his gaze linger for a moment longer before he got to work. Just another sample to be analysed later. He pushed whatever moment had passed the between of you to the back of his mind, not wanting to think on it.

“All done,” he said, pressing a cotton bud to the point of extraction.

Your finger brushed his as you took over applying pressure to the inside of your elbow. He took a moment before he stepped away, checking your colour. You looked up, catching him in the act, lips quirking up in a questioning smile.

“Go eat something,” he said, “not one of those awful poptarts.”

“Make me,” you said.

The impulse to carry you away and force you to eat something good was intense. He could picture it, the way he would sling you over his shoulder and march away with you. It was very caveman, so different from how he usually was. It broke the moment, leaving him unsure of what to say as he stepped back. Something flashed over your face, too quick for him to understand as you slithered to the floor.

“Enjoy staring at my blood you psycho,” you said as a parting shot.

“I’m not-“ he called after you before giving up. It wasn’t worth it.

He took some time to go analyse the new blood sample, searching for any paranormal signifiers. It seemed normal, like anyone else’s blood would. Dead end after dead end was making him want to bash his head against the wall. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

He kept telling himself it was to get you out of his lab. Even if that little voice in the back of his head was saying something else.

The next time he saw you, you were curled up in one of the old armchairs that Lucky had dragged in one day in order to make the place more comfortable. You had a book open in your lap, hair falling forward. He paused, watching when your finger reached up, tucking some of the hair behind your ear. He could imagine it, the path his finger would take as he did the same thing, your soft skin against his fingertip.

“You’re actually quite smart,” you said and he realised his presence hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he thought.

“I know I am,” he replied.

Stepping closer, he noticed the book in your lap was a collection of essays, one of which he knew was his. Written a few years ago, before he’d had the funding he did now, his research was splayed out in your lap, your gaze tracing over it. The intimate feeling was a shock to him, the way it felt as if you were caressing his brain. You were reading his words. Words written years ago before he knew someone like you could exist. He felt his chest puff when you looked at him.

“Your writing could be clearer. You make it all so complicated,” you said.

He deflated, the pride he’d felt leaking from him. Once again, it left a flickering flame of resentment in its wake, and he wanted to lash out again. His mouth opened but you beat him to the punch.

“But your ideas are sound and you clearly know your stuff. I suppose I’m lucky I have your mind working on whatever mystery is going on with me.”

He sauntered closer, that same pride reigniting. You watched him approach, a half smile on your face as if you knew the exact reaction you were causing in him. He felt smug, knowing he was taking up space in your brain. You’d spent your time reading his research paper. You’d taken time out of your day to let his words seep into your brain.

“Very lucky,” he said, coming to a stop in front of you.

His words might have been flirty if it was anyone but you.

“But then I suppose you’re lucky getting to spend so much time with me,” you said.

Your bare foot reached out, your toes brushing against his shin. He lent forward, hands coming to rest on the back of the chair, right above your head. Towering over you, you looked so small to him, like something he could protect. But he kept you trapped there, looking down into your face.

“Lucky to have such a pain in my arse?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“Well, you need something to get the stick out of it,” you replied. Only there was no bite to it.

“Been thinking about my arse a lot, have you?” he asked.

“You should be so lucky,” you laughed.

He lent closer, watching the moment you realised how close he was. He found himself feeling out of control around you, like his inhibitions had fled him. He couldn’t help it. Whenever it came to you lately, he lost himself to giving in to all his impulses.

One of which was screaming loudly at him.

The laughter died on your lips and he didn’t miss it when your eyes dipped down to his. He was close enough to feel your warmth, towering over you, leaning into your space. Your fingers clenched around the book in your lap, foot brushing his leg again. Just that touch, small as it was, sent electricity rocketing through his body. He wanted more of it. He wanted more of you.

Oh.

Oh no.

He wanted you.

He had never denied you were beautiful, that you were bright, that you were charismatic. But he had denied ever liking you. Only now, so close to you, watching the way you reacted to him, it became blindly obvious to him that he’d been lying to himself.

“Can I help you with something, Pinfield?” you asked, voice soft, barely above a murmur.

He thought that if he kissed you now you would kiss him back. Almost certain of it. Pretty sure you would. But that small amount of doubt niggled at him. You could be so prickly with him and you’d told him you hated being there. He was part of the lab. What if you actually didn’t like him?

“Cat got your tongue?” Your half smile had softened, just enough to make him question it all again, “I don’t think you’ve ever been so silent with me.”

He lent back, straightening up, leaving you blinking up at him, confusion marring your features. Turning on his heels, he stalked away from you, the confusion and the tangle of confused emotions making him need to retreat as fast as possible. The ache was new, wanting to go back and finish what he’d started. He couldn’t. Not if you were going to laugh in his face and tell him he was deluded. No one like you could ever possibly want him.

So he did the cowardly thing. He avoided you.

Days went by, hiding away in shadowy corners, doing all the work he’d been putting off to study you. The things no one wanted to do. Filing, cleaning, sorting, anything to keep you from finding him. Only he’d misjudged it. He’d forgotten you’d been living there long enough to find every single secret hiding spot.

After a few days, you found him in a secluded corner, far from everyone else working in the lab. He didn’t know how many other people knew about that spot, retreating to it whenever he needed time alone. Sitting on the floor, knees bent towards his chest, head in his hands, fingers clenched in his hair, he didn’t notice your approach. Or rather, the left over ghostly powers you had kept you silent as you came upon him.

“Have you given up on me?” His head jerked up at your voice, “the fire get too hot for you?”

“What?” he asked. You couldn’t know. There was no way you could know.

“Usually you’re poking and prodding me every day trying to figure out why ghosthood has forsaken me. Have you finally accepted there’s nothing to find and I can be released back into the wild?”

You walked towards him, and his mouth went dry with how your hips swayed. You stood over him, hands on your hips, staring down at him with an oddly fierce look on your face.

“I know it’s not because you’re doing anything more important. Clearly. Look at you. You’re sitting here in the dark doing nothing,” he said.

“Maybe that’s more important than studying you,” he replied, leaning his head back against the wall as he gazed up at you.

“Either you’re working on this mystery or you’re not. If you’re done can you let me know so I can clear out of here. I’d like to have a real place to live again,” you said.

“It’ll get done,” he replied.

“Really? Because you’ve been M.I.A. for days now. My entire life is put on paused because you can’t be bothered doing your job,” you continued on, as if you didn’t care about his answer.

“It’ll get done,” he said, firmer, standing as if that would get the point across.

“Sure it will, after you’ve spent the right amount of time hiding from the big scary scientific questions. What’s got you so rattled huh? I didn’t take you for the kind of man who would go running scared the minute things got difficult,” you said.

“Shut up,” he said.

“Or what?” you demanded, “the longer you drag your feet on this the longer I’m forced to live like a fugitive on the run hiding out from the law. Or maybe you hate me enough to want to keep me under lock and key.”

“You don’t know anything,” he ground out from between gritted teeth.

“Clearly because apparently I’m so abhorrent you have to avoid me. I thought we were alright. Fuck me, I guess. I can’t keep up with you. There is something seriously wrong with you, dude,” you said.

“Shut up,” he said again, taking a step forward until he was in your personal space.

He could feel all of the emotions simmering under the surface. You were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes and you looked fierce. It made his blood sing, going toe to toe with you. He didn’t have the ability to deal with this today, not when he’d been fighting against his need to grab you and kiss you and drag you into the first private place he could find and show you exactly what you did to him.

“Not until you explain why you’re leaving me high and dry,” you said, both hands coming up to shove at his chest.

He caught you around the wrists, holding you like a pair of manacles. His thumb brushed over the bare skin of your inner wrist, over your pulse point. You stared at him, mouth falling open and he couldn’t figure out if it was through confusion or indignation. Tugging you closer, you were so close, your body heat brushing against him and he realised what a mistake that had been. But once again, impulse took over his brain when you were near.

“What are you doing?” you all but whispered.

“Shutting you up.”

He swooped down, kissing you, his fingers tightening around your wrists. He felt you gasp more than he heard it, but it was enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth. You were frozen for just a moment and he was certain you were about to knee him in the gonads. Then, you melted, pressing closer, kissing him back until you took his breath away.

The fire and the passion you’d brought about in him seemed to have found a match. You tugged out of his hold, arms twining around his neck as his hands slid around your body, pressing you into him. The small noise you made only stoked the fire further. His hands cupped your arse and your teeth sunk into his lower lip. He was surprised at the rush that gave him, the spike of pain followed by the soothing of your tongue running over it.

He spun, pushing you against the wall he’d so recently been leaning against. You arched towards him. His hands landed either side of your body, keeping you trapped there, caging you in. You kissed him deeper, longer, and all he could do was groan and sink into it.

You were everywhere, in every single one of his senses, consuming him. All he could do was press closer, groaning when your fingers slid into his hair, tugging on it, playing with it, mussing it. It was so much better than he could have imagined.

“Fuck love,” he mumbled, his lips trailing down your neck, “who knew shutting you up could be so enjoyable in so many ways?”

“You’re such an asshole,” you laughed, breathless as you tilted your head, offering yourself up to him.

“I think that says more about you than it does about me,” he said, teeth sinking in to your skin for just a moment.

“No one said I ever made the sensible decisions,” you said.

He drew back, looking at you. Bright eyes and kiss stung lips, you were a vision he would never grow tired of seeing. He brought a hand up, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You nipped at the pad of his thumb and he chuckled.

“Then I think you should have dinner with me tonight,” he said, “if you’re determined to not make sensible decisions.”

“I’m not allowed out,” you reminded him.

“You are with supervision. Call me your own personal ankle monitor,” he said, “I won’t take my eyes off you.”

“Sounds like you’ll be getting more out of it than I will. Especially if I wear a sexy little number,” you said.

“And why would you do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe because I’m so desperate to sleep in a proper bed I’m willing to go home with you,” you replied.

“So you’re going to seduce me?”

“I think I already have.”

You looked down, indicating the lack f space between your bodies. The leg he’d inserted between yours. The hand on your hip, keeping you pressed against the wall. His own swollen lips and flushed cheeks. The chuckle that fell from his lips was soft, and yet joyful.

“I suppose you have,” he agreed.

“So, dinner?” you asked.

“Tonight. No need for a sec little number. I’ll be taking you home even if you’re in your pyjamas,” he said and he liked the way that sentiment seemed to melt you.

“I think you might be a closet romantic, Pinfield,” you said, lips curling up into a small smile.

“I suppose you’ll have to stick with me if you want to find out,” he replied.

Impulse drove him to kiss you again, only this time, he was certain you’d kiss him back. You did not disappoint.

[fairyofshampgyu]

Only Yours

genre: smut, college au

Pairing:  sub ! gyu x possessive dom! gn reader (afab when comes to smut)

Warnings: sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, possessiveness ?palming, handjob, riding,  kinda rough sex ig, dacryphilia

word count: 1.1k

Beomgyu walks across campus near where the the little pond and park was situated as he took the the time to embrace the surrounding nature; pretty lily pads sat on the water, coi fishes elegantly swimming in all kinds of directions and purple dragonflies hovering above with their transparent wings buzzing. He really did like this area of the campus. It was so pretty. And one of the first things he noticed that caught his eye to end up applying to the uni.

With his earphones in, he listened to music as he enjoyed the peaceful and quiet, scenic stroll, but that was abruptly interrupted as he felt a hand softly tap his shoulder.

Not being able to hear them, he took one of his wired buds out and swiftly turned around.

“Sorry?”

“Beomgyu right? We’ve sat next to each other in class a few times! I was… wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime, you’re…you’re pretty cute!” They beamed, fidgeting with their hands uncertainly.

Beomgyu was taken aback, he can’t lie he’d never noticed this person in his class before ever, feeling pretty flattered right now. He can’t control the small smile taking up on his features, but ready to somehow politely and not awkwardly turn them down on their offer.

You were also near the campus pond, sitting on a bench nearby, waiting and waiting, and then finally excitedly noticing your boyfriend, realising he was chatting with someone else at the moment. Someone who was being a bit too close with your boyfriend than you would have liked.

It wouldn’t usually bother you, you know beomgyu is extremely attractive, taking pride in it, your relationship still fairly recent and you weren’t insecure about the lingering stares on him when you walked hand in hand to classes together, beomgyu completely oblivious to the hushed giggles once he walked past, but something about it today ticked you off the wrong way. Do people still not know he’s dating you?

You couldn’t help going up to them, running to beomgyu to embrace him in a hug from behind, resting your head on his shoulder as your hands made their way to grip on his waist-a little too tightly- “Baby! There you are, I was looking for you!” You press a kiss to his cheek.

Beomgyu stutters, slightly blushing and can’t help raising an eyebrow at your unlikely actions. You were never this affectionate or touchy to him in public much to his dismay sometimes, and you would rarely call him cute petnames in front of other people, not that he was complaining at all to this.

“Who’s this, baby?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, a bit too tight and he couldn’t help noticing you stepping in front of him a little bit as if protecting him, he tries to stifle a laugh at your antics.

“Oh, they’re just in my class.” Beomgyu replies, smiling.

“Hi…” The other person quickly shies away.

“Oh! um… nice to meet you! Baby, we’ve got to go we can’t be late for our date. Bye!” And with that you drag beomgyu by his arm, rushing and walking away from the other person before either of them could say anything.

Beomgyu bursts out laughing once you’re far away enough. “What was that? We don’t even have a date!” Beomgyu smirks and teases you. “Oh were you jealous y/n?”

“Shut up.” You mumble, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It was pretty hot, you being possessive of me like that. And you should definitely call me ‘baby’ and be like that in public more often. That was so cute.” Beomgyu chuckles.

Beomgyu tries to keep up with your fast pace, hand tightly holding his and dragging him along. “Where we going anyway?”

“Your place.”

Once inside, you roughly push beomgyu on his bed and straddle his lap, pinning his hands above his head, making him gasp.

You attack his lips, kissing him with a fervour he hadn’t experienced before, trailing down and feverishly nipping at his sensitive neck, hands tangled in his hair, pulling it slightly, making beomgyu moan loudly, his usual smooth-talking demeanor replaced by incoherent stuttering.

“Y-y/n what are you—ah…that feels so good…”

You silence him with another kiss, your hand moving down to palm his clothed dick, his body jerks, whimpering your name.

You continue to palm him and lick and suck at his neck, reactions already so pretty. You take his dick out, covered in precum, stroking him which gets his moans even more high pitched, gasping at your every touch, never having seen you act like this towards him before and he can’t say he wasn’t absolutely enjoying it. Cum dribbling out of the tip of his dick constantly as you pump his dick whilst he pants, unable to do anything but moan.

You take your shirt off and your pants, positioning his dick to your pussy and sinking down on his wet dick, not giving him any time to even think before you’re relentlessly riding him, not starting off at a slow pace at all, still holding his wrists down tightly. Beomgyu’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he yelps, screaming your name out loud in surprise.

You don’t stop, roughly bouncing on his dick, wet sounds erupting the room from his cock pumping in and out of you but still not overtaking beomgyu’s loud sounds, his whole body prettily flushed, face so red.

If only everyone could see how beomgyu was like for you right now, at this moment you wanted them and beomgyu himself to get it in his head that you were only his, pretty face and pretty body only yours so why would they still stare at beomgyu like a piece of meat? It was starting to get under your skin honestly.

“Mmh, only mine aren’t you?...” You grab his chin roughly, making his fucked out face look you in the eyes as he groans in response.

“Say it.” You take one of your hands to roughly tug at his hair, beomgyu rolling his eyes at the feeling and stuttering.

“y-yes, yours…ah—I’m only yours! No one else’s…” Beomgyu obliges deliriously with half lidded eyes, finding you so hot right now.

“Good boy.”

Beomgyu eye’s widen, breath hitching, face turning somehow even redder, aroused by the name.

“Say it again…please…”

You smirk, leaning and brushing your lips against his ear, “You’re such a good boy.” Beomgyu only grows more and more flustered, seemingly liking the new pet name.

“I-I am?” Beomgyu’s voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

You chuckle, “Yeah, baby. My good boy.” You stroke his hot cheek with your thumb, bringing your lips back to beomgyu’s, kissing and sucking and biting at his swollen lips.

You mercilessly ride his cock against your gummy walls at a violent and aggressive pace, beomgyu’s head hitting against his bed at your thrusts. Your tits prettily bouncing in front of his face and he reaches his hand out to grope them.

“I-I can’t y/n…need to cum—fuck!” Beomgyu can’t even keep his eyes level at this point, continuously rolling back on their own with tears blurring his vision even more, seeing stars when his hot thick cum gushes inside you none stop, beomgyu’s body trembling and shaking like a leaf.

You hold his hand and he grips on with his life, even his hands shaky as he tries to recover from his high, mind in a daze and panting wildly as he looks up at you prettily with wide watery eyes still in shock.

You carry on after he’s calmed down though, fucking him rough, not stopping until all you remember is beomgyu’s loud cries and screams of your name, the only thing beomgyu able to give out tears and cum continuously, milking him spent until there’s no tears falling from his eyes or cum spurting from his dick left and his throat is all hoarse. Beomgyu’s dorm walls so thin you can only imagine what other people can hear.

You kinda want other people to hear beomgyu moaning your name though.

“Wake up sleepyhead, you’re gonna miss your class.” Beomgyu flicks your forehead.

“Ow! What the fuck?” You place your hand to your head, rubbing the area. Beomgyu chuckles, but replaces your hand with a kiss on your forehead instead and then peppers some more kisses on your face, flopping his head to muzzle in your neck again. “How come you’re not rushing to get up?” You raise a brow, curiously.

“I don’t have any classes which means I can sleep in as much as I like.” Beomgyu grins triumphantly, doing a little short sleepy victory dance.

“Lucky.” You grimace.

“Oh my god—look how many fucking marks you left on me last night!” Beomgyu pouts, showing you the dozens of bruises and hickeys scattered all on his body. “Someone definitely had fun. I didn’t know you were so scandalous like that, y/n.” He dramatically gasps, teasing you.

“Well you look so pretty marked up like that. How can I not?” You say, unapologetic.

“I think it’s safe to say that it’s pretty clear now to everyone that I’m in a relationship.”

“Maybe I’ll leave even more before I go.” You grin, turning to tilt his chin up and pull him in a kiss. “Don’t cover them.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Beomgyu grins.

Please !!! reblog !!! & !!! comment !!! if you like the fic. Feedback is always so nice. It’s really appreciated and so so nice if you do tysm !<3🙏💕😊 🌷It’s discouraging and sad when fics have such little reblogs 👎🤨🤨:(

[always-andromeda]

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1182

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ Once upon a time, Joel Miller was the love of your life. Life, however, got in the way.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ I got to write this piece for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge. This song is one of my favorites off of Folklore and so I was immediately inspired by the prompt!! I highly recommend taking a look at the rest of the challenge masterlist too and sending the other creators on there some love!! Gorgeous divider by @saradika-graphics!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact), nipple play, fingering, pet names, reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, spans from pre-outbreak to post-outbreak, mentions of guns, bits and pieces of angst, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Your youth was defined by Joel Miller. All of those delicate parts of yourself that you pretended not to see…he stared straight into the eye of the storm and protected the fragility within it. The most important thing about Joel: he was patient. To an almost frustrating degree.

He taught you how to drive with the stick shift in his beat up pickup truck. Afterwards, he showed you how to kiss properly. His hand cupping the back of your neck, he gazed at you through his lashes and asked if it was okay to kiss you. His voice smooth like molasses, you had no choice but to nod before immediately pressing your lips to his.

Even back then, Joel was a working man. His hands were rough with calluses, his mouth was filthy, and he put them both to good use. As he laid you across the bench seat of his truck, somewhere deep in your belly, you believed you could trust him. 

You supposed it was exciting for him, showing you how things were done. How a man could really use his hands to tell a woman exactly how he felt. The best Joel’s words could do came in the form of his sweet pet names.

Darlin’. Pretty girl. Baby. Honey.

Each of them wrapped up in his velvety tone and delivered specially for you. Sure, he spoiled you, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

On your twenty-first birthday, he was there for your first drink. He slowly nursed his beer, making sure to keep a level head as you danced around the bar. No matter how hard you attempted to throw yourself at him, he kept his hands to himself. And as soon as you started to get sleepy he drove you home and tucked you in before passing out on your living room couch.

The morning after he was teaching you even more. How to handle a hangover. How Joel sounded rasping, “Happy birthday, honey,” against the column of your throat. How to come with just his hands on your tits.

The trick was a nice, slow buildup. He’d pinch and pull at a nipple before leaning down to press kisses to it. You’d gasp as his teeth grazed your skin ever so slightly and a laugh would rumble through his own chest. Your cunt wept so badly it ached. Still, Joel refused to pay it any mind. Not until he had you whimpering and writhing beneath him.

Even as he was breaking your heart, it was slow; it was painful.

When he told you that he’d gotten another girl pregnant, you almost didn’t believe it. Sure he teased you, but this was a step too far. That was the first time you caught him deliberately averting your gaze. The second you detected that shame, you wanted to scream at him.

You’d never known him to be shy around other girls. But you’d also never known him to be so careless. That pristine picture you had of him was gone in an instant.

The second it was said, you retreated. Or you were discarded. You’d never been able to remember who was the last one to call the other only to be met with an answering machine. You suppose it didn’t really matter anymore.

Years passed and soon those memories turned into mementoes of an entirely different world overnight.

There have been many lovers since then; none as kind as he had been once upon a time. Then again, if Joel was still alive, he was most likely just as rough around the edges as any of the men you’d been with. In fact, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him once since those days. You felt his calluses on every man’s hands, his thick fingers filling you, his stubble prickling your neck. Those men taught you many new things. The first being that patience wasn’t owed to anyone in a world where you could wake up dead. The second? Perhaps you didn’t want patience anymore.

After all, what had patience ever given you? When the world fell apart you got fuck all from simply waiting around for something to happen. You’d rather be torn apart by a clicker than get herded into a QZ where you’d scrounge for rations.

The first chance you got, you claimed a spot in a nomadic group. You did what you had to in order to prove your worth. The first time you shot a gun, as the smell of gunpowder filled your nostrils, you thought of Joel again. Tried to imagine him at your shoulder, chuckling and then muttering under his breath, “Dadgum, girl. Not bad.” 

Every single time you managed to take out one of those infected, you heard that smooth voice of his. It was equal parts frustrating and…comforting. Frustrating in that he had managed to linger this long. But also frustrating in the sense that that version of him no longer existed, if it ever did to begin with. It was like you’d never really left behind him, his honeyed words, his skilled hands, or his goddamn pickup. Joel Miller just…had a way of hanging over you. 

Jackson was a welcome reprieve from that cloud of grief. You were stubborn to the charms of that commune. You’d trusted more promising things before and been burned.

Those years really flew by. Old wounds finally began to close. With each passing kindness, it became easier to live again. For once home felt like a place you could tangibly hold instead of some far off fantasy. 

You were so content that by the time Tommy showed up one spring, you only saw it as a blessing. He was alive, goddamnit. It didn’t matter that his dark eyes were damn near the same shade as his brother’s. And it didn’t matter that the twang of Texas still lingered on his tongue. You simply told yourself what you’d been telling yourself for years.

Joel was just a man. A man who thought that because you were young, he had some sort of claim over your heart. His heart had never belonged to you. More importantly, yours hadn’t belonged to him. He made his mark and you’d paid your dues in heartache. That was all.

Which is why it felt all the more haunting when he showed up on your porch.

A little over three decades later and Joel’s right there in the flesh. Even with the town buzzing about his arrival, you suppressed any notion that he’d pay you a visit. But now he steps forward into the porch light and through the fog of his breath in the cold air, you catch how much he’s changed. He’s almost nothing like you remember. Silver dappled stubble, pursed lips, forehead wrinkling as he furrows his brow.

The expression falls as soon as he sees you. The crinkles by his eyes relax as his gaze softens. Just like it used to so long ago.

Yet you swear he hasn’t changed a lick when he finally speaks.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

[f1daydreamers]

𝐀 𝐃𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 [𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔]

gif credits: @leqclerc

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Charles have a few weeks to yourselves before Baku, it’s Friday and you go to pull him off of the simulator when you instead see him playing the piano.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, that’s about it also I know nothing about the wonderful ways of playing a piano so any information I add I found off of Google :)

A/N: Also Charles posting his music on Spotify, DUDE I AM IN LOVE AND I AM NOT MAD ABOUT IT

Word Count: 0.8k (3 mins reading time avg)

…

You covered the pot of pasta you’d prepared for yourself and Charles, hoping it wouldn’t get too cold by the time you were able to pull your boyfriend off of the simulator.

He’d been focused on that thing for nearly two hours now, while you knew better than to interrupt him, you also knew the importance of having a break from the screen and breaking a cycle of lap after lap after lap.

You called out his name but when you heard no response, you set the two empty plates on the counter above some napkins and took it upon yourself to locate him in the apartment.

When you pushed open the door to the room he’d set up his simulator and all of his equipment, your eyebrows hitched together when it was empty of a living human.

“Charles?” You repeated, shutting the door behind you. You checked the bedroom, knocked on the bathroom door, even checked the dining room again in case he was waiting for you in there but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

His car was still parked outside so you knew he couldn’t have left, so abruptly too.

Your head cocked to the left when you swore you heard a faint melody playing from somewhere in the apartment, following the sweet tunes of the piano, you twisted the doorknob to the room beneath the stairs, only creaking the door open slightly to get a peek.

The setting sunlight beamed generously through the large window, overlooking the landscape of Monaco, the piano was pushed up against the wall and the bench was pulled out.

The Monegasque however, gently pressed on the keys from either ends of the piano, generating a euphonious rhythm that you could only lose yourself in. It was a rhythm of sorts that you’d hear in a movie or in the title sequence to a music video.

You sighed, feeling a familiar softness settle into the pit of your stomach as you watched his back muscles move in unison to his fingers, his neck turning ever so slightly to have an idea of what key he wanted to press next.

You stepped into the room, trying to be as careful as you could so your boyfriend wouldn’t get startled.

When he was only a few inches away, you rested the palms of your hands on his shoulders, slowly making your way around his neck and intertwining your fingers in line with his collarbone.

His body tensed in response to your cold fingertips but they eased soon after, a grin already finding its way on to his pink lips. Charles’ movements on the piano halted and he turned his head to the side, his hands grasping your wrists gently.

“Don’t stop ‘cause of me.” He hummed, “come on. Sit down.” Your eyebrows furrowed and you hesitated in doing so but unlocked your fingers, he shuffled down on the bench and you sat besides him.

“Do I get to watch you play, Mr Leclerc?” He smiled this time, turning his head to meet your eyes and squinted, knowing that a boyish comment was ready to fall from his lips.

“You have to pay first, mon cœur.” You scoffed, “pay? I usually get private viewings for free.” You dropped a not so subtle hint, but you knew Charles understood with the subtle rosy tint that was building up on his cheeks.

“You tease me too much.” The F1 driver smiled. You shrugged, dropping your head on to your boyfriend’s shoulder and fiddled with the string that was poking out freely from his sweatpants.

“Yes, I tease you too much and I pay you too little.” You continued.

“Exactly.” You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his skin when Charles reached for your hand and placed it on to the piano.

“I’m hopeless at this stuff.” You picked your head up as your boyfriend positioned his fingers on to the keys on his side.

“So was I, mon amour.”

He instructed you to delicately hold down the keys he pointed out in his notebook while he fiddled with his own. You did exactly that though it took you a while to find the right balance and get the timing right.

After a few trial runs, you pressed the first set of keys and held them for a few seconds before moving your fingers down to the next two, Charles was playing effortlessly besides you but never failed to send you a wink when you praised his or your own efforts with a gleaming smile.

“See? You’re a natural.” Your boyfriend complimented when he closed out the piece and you plopped your hand back into your lap.

“Yeah, soon enough I’ll be asking you to pay me for private viewings.” You poked fun at him and he bumped your shoulder with his, shaking his head with a grin.

…

Masterlist

[luvcosmos]

CLEMENTINE SLICES

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB!Reader TAGS: Fluff if you squint, Angst, Mentions of Death, Spoilers for ATSV, Not proofread WORDS: 2.3k EXCERPT: This. He thought. This is why he's here. To keep you and Gabi safe, happy. To make sure none of you would ever endure the pain of losing a loved one.

Gabriela’s favorite fruit is clementine.

Her love for the fruit may seem like a small insignificant detail, but it’s one of the first things Miguel made sure to remember before he entered this universe and took the place of your Miguel.

It’s Sunday and today, he’s taken you and Gabi to the park, just like his alternate self always does. The simple routine of sitting side by side at the bench, it’s important to him that things remain the same—with you none the wiser of the truth.

Your head rested on Miguel’s shoulder as you both watched Gabi run around and play. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and he’s ardently and hopelessly in love with you.

It’s taken him by surprise, that he’ll fall deeply in love. It feels like his feet have been swept off the floor, but he supposes it was inevitable. He’s watched your life with his doppelgänger after all, saw how much you loved so passionately and the way you didn’t tolerate any bullshit from him or anyone.

That’s why he was so terrified when he finally saw you for the first time. He was worried that you’d see through him immediately but by some unknown miracle, instead of the harsh questions of ‘who are you?’ that he expected, you had wrapped your arms around him, scolded him for coming home late but still kissed him so softly and dismissed his strange behavior with an order to get some rest.

Your name has been carved into his heart ever since.

“Time flies by so fast,” You suddenly spoked wistfully, interrupting his train of thoughts. “Look at her, I can’t believe our little girl’s ten years old now.”

Miguel let out a smile, one that softened his entire face and crinkled his eyes at the corners. He squeezed your shoulders briefly with his arm and hesitated for a moment before pressing a kiss to your head.

“Time does fly,” He agreed. “It feels like it was just yesterday when I was holding your hand and supporting you as you worked hard to bring Gabi into this world.”

The lie came so easily to him, that he almost tricked himself that it was actually him in the delivery room while you gave birth and not another man who shared his name and face.

(A pang of pain gripped his heart and there was a sudden urge to run and take you and Gabi to safety. He ignored it though. He made sure that no enemies of his will be able to discover that he has a family here.)

“Oh yeah? That’s not what I just remember from that day.” You began to tease, “You were so nervous - more nervous than me, when my water broke. And you cried when you first held Gabi in your arms that day.”

Miguel felt his heart become soothed at your words, forgetting about his unease as the corners of his mouth turned up.

He remembered seeing that day through the screens, it was Lyla who showed it to him. Gabi was already born when his AI found this universe, but she had gone through previous moments of the life that the other version of him had.

“This might be a sign for you to go live the life you’ve always wanted.” She had said to him then. Who would’ve thought that he’d be here now?

He realized that he’s gone silent for a moment as he got lost in his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he tucked you closer to his side as he decided to tease you back, “Weren’t you also busy cursing me out that time?”

You laughed at his words, pinching his thigh slightly in mock offense as you retorted, “Yeah, well, who else was I supposed to curse at? You’re her father so you deserved it.”

The two of you shared a chuckle and Miguel removed his arm around your shoulders to intertwine his hand with yours. “Thank you for going through all that pain to bring our daughter into this world,” He murmured as he brought your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You practically melted at his gratefulness as you smiled fondly at him. “What are you talking about?” You started, “You have nothing to thank me for. It was our dream, after all.”

Your free hand reached up to rest a hand on his cheek, “And I wouldn’t have been able to do it if you weren’t by my side, ready to buy me any food I craved, and massage my feet whenever I needed it. That day might’ve been stressful and painful, but it was worth it.” You added.

Miguel stayed quiet for a moment as he stared into your eyes. It was like an invisible string tugged him closer to you and slowly, watching you for any sign of discomfort, his right hand cupped your chin gently and he leaned in to press his lips against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his lips touching yours. The way he kissed you has changed, it’s gentler, maybe even a little unsure, but it has never made you feel less loved by him.

He reluctantly pulled away; his eyes stared at you with an awed adoring look. He nudged his nose gently against yours, “You’re right, my love. It’s more than worth it.” He whispered softly and his eyes drifted over to Gabi.

While he has his eyes on her, you have yours on him and you saw how his body tensed like he was ready to stand up when he saw her trip, but he relaxed when he saw his daughter get up with a laugh. It takes everything in you to stop yourself from smiling at the sight.

Your husband might’ve been acting off the past couple of weeks but he’s still as protective and loving towards your family as ever.

Although, it still bothered you when you couldn’t help but notice the unusual tone of soberness in his voice when he said it was worth it. It makes you wonder if he might mean something else too but before you could ask, Miguel pressed one last kiss on your forehead before slowly letting go of your hand and he moved to take a clementine from the food basket at his side.

“Gabriela will be a little hungry once she takes a break from playing,” He stated. “I should get it peeled for her now.”

He has only started to thumb away the skin of the fruit but somehow, as if she had supernatural senses, your daughter chooses that moment to glance back at you two and immediately hones in on the clementine Miguel is holding.

Her brown eyes widened almost comically, and she waved goodbye to her playmates before running back to where you and Miguel are sitting. Soon enough, the little girl is in front of you with her eyes staring at her father expectantly.

Miguel arched an eyebrow at his daughter, “Can I help you?” He asked with an amused expression.

Gabi only shifted her feet eagerly and held her palms out, her eyes drifting to look at him and the clementine. “Papa, I want one.”

He let out a small chuckle while you smiled fondly as you watched the two interact, silently reaching out a hand to tuck a loose hair softly behind Gabi’s ear.

“Oh, is that why you’re here? Not to say hi to mama and papa, check if we’re okay?” He teased her.

You can’t help but giggle softly and share a fond smile with your husband as Gabi breaks her gaze from the fruit and looked up at both of you worriedly.

“Mama and papa not okay?” She asked immediately with a small frown, standing up on her tiptoes with her hands now leaning on Miguel’s knees as if that would help her see what could possibly be ailing her parents.

Miguel softened and gave his daughter one of those smiles that was reserved just for his girls. If you weren’t so enamored, you would’ve laughed at how comically it looked to have this broad and strong man be so soft and gentle around you and Gabi.

“We’re okay, sweetheart.” He reassured her.

Your daughter, having the same overprotective instincts as her father— doesn’t believe Miguel at first. She ran her eyes over you both, double checking before she nodded with a smile, satisfied with her inspection. “Okay… that’s good.” She scooted closer, her eyes now looking at her father pleadingly.

He clicked his tongue at her, “Clean your hands first, baby.”

Gabi quickly turned to you then as you reached into your bag and pulled out a pack of wet wipes. You opened it and took one before handing it over to your daughter.

“Thank you, mommy.” She said, and under your gentle guidance, she wiped her hands thoroughly and carefully. Once she was done, she tossed the wipe inside the little trash can that you carried along and turned to Miguel once again, showing her hands proudly. “Clean now, papa!” She exclaimed, “Now can I have one?”

“Gabriela, what do we say when we ask for something?” Miguel questioned in a stern but soft tone.

Gabi pouts at him for a moment before she replied, “Can I have one please, papa?”

Your husband nodded his approval with a soft smile and handed her the clementine slice, making sure that she holds it carefully first and won’t ruin her clothes, before turning to you with another slice held gently between his fingers and lifting it up to your lips to feed you.

You smile gratefully at him, popping the clementine into your mouth.

He watched you fondly as you ate and swiftly swipes his thumb below your lower lip. There’s really nothing to clean there, he just wanted an excuse to touch you.

He alternated between handing Gabi a slice of clementine and then feeding you one with a feeling of warmth and belonging in his heart. It’s like this is what he was meant to do all this time, his dreams finally come true. He’d peel a million clementines and more, if only that meant he would always have you and his daughter by his side.

This. He thought. This is why he’s here. To keep you and Gabi safe, happy. To make sure that none of you would ever endure the pain and suffering of losing a loved one. Gabi will never lose her father and you will never lose your husband.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’s a selfish man. That’s why he feels no guilt or remorse for his actions.

If you asked him, he’ll even say that the Miguel of this universe would approve. He knows himself well enough that he’d want you two to be happy and safe no matter what universe or version of him is present.

So instead of wallowing in guilt, he watched his wife, his daughter with a smile on his face.

(But there’s that pang of pain in his chest again. A feeling of anxiety and worry that he can’t explain.)

He looked around cautiously for any threat of danger that might be causing this feeling. He might not have a Spider-Sense compared to the other Spiders in the society, but he’d be a fool to ignore his gut.

The park is full of other families taking advantage of the sunny weather to relax and spend time with each other. He saw children running around, dogs barking, and couples taking a stroll together. There’s nothing out of the ordinary that could explain this feeling of unsafety and yet his heart continued to beat faster with anxiety.

There’s something wrong. He realized.

He can’t explain it but he’s certain something is wrong.

His body tensed up and without realizing it, he’s got a protective arm around you while his other arm tugged Gabi close to his side.

His unease only intensified when the bright sky slowly turned gray, the sun nowhere to be found. That’s when he saw it. Somewhere in the distance, there is a dark shadow form warping into different sizes and shapes. He squinted his eyes, and it also looked like the form is... glitching?

He wants to run. He needs to run. He needs to take you and Gabi somewhere safe. But his legs aren’t moving, and he can’t move his eyes away from the shadow form no matter how hard he tries.

HE CAN’T BREATHE

He can hear you and Gabi calling out to him, but it sounds muffled. Like he’s being pulled deep underwater and the two of you are far away from him, out of his reach. Out of his protection.

“Miguel!” He heard you shouting now. “MIGUEL!”

His head snapped to the side so quickly that he almost got a whiplash, but the empty side of his bed is what greeted him instead of your face.

Cold sweat dripped down his body as his breaths came out heavily. Miguel looked around with wide eyes, looking for you and Gabi with panic and fear gripping his heart, before he realized it was all a dream.

A memory of his past haunting him like a ghost.

He sighed heavily before swinging his legs to the side of the bed, running a shaky hand on his face as he sat up.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to push the memories away but even then, he could still see your face and his daughter. The two people that he failed. The two people that died because of him.

But still, he can’t bring himself to wish that he’ll stop dreaming about you or Gabi. Even if it’s painful and it reminds him of how much he fucked up because of his own selfishness, he’d rather keep on having these dreams than forget about his family entirely.

No matter how much time has passed, he will always carry you two with him. The only pain that he welcomes with open arms, the only pain he will never get rid of, because it’s a pain he deserves.

He will never be able to look at clementines the same way ever again.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 9 - Captivate

@jegulus-microfic May 9, Word count 472

Previous part First part

He was such an idiot. What had he been thinking? He only just remembered to dismount his broom before entering the castle. He hurried back up towards Gryffindor Tower, but just as he was passing the seventh floor he veered off and headed towards the come and go room. He needed space to calm down. If Sirius saw him now he'd know something was wrong.

When he got to the blank space of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his tutu-wearing trolls, he paced back and forth thinking only of needing somewhere he could shower and clear his head. A simple wooden door materialised on the previously empty stretch of stone wall. He reached out and entered the room. 

There was a shower cubicle, a bath and a bench with a neatly folded pile of his own clothes. He sighed as he shut the door. He liked this room.

He stepped into the shower after stripping off his quidditch gear. The water was perfect, and the pressure was something else. There was a selection of shampoos, conditioners and body washes. He selected a few he liked the smell of and started washing his hair and body.

He was just about finished when the door opened. He froze, the only sound was the water from the shower still cascading down the drain. He turned it off and stuck a hand out of the shower to grab the towel he’d hung next to it. He didn’t have his wand at hand, he just hoped that whoever had come in wasn’t about to hex him when he was only in a towel. He also didn’t have his glasses, so he wouldn’t be able to see who was there anyway. 

He wrapped the towel firmly around his waist and stepped out of the shower. A figure stood before him. It seemed familiar. He’d thought for a second it was Sirius, but the posture was off. He snatched up his glasses from the bench and shoved them onto his face. They instantly misted up, so he was even more blind than he had been before. 

He pulled them off again and tried to clean them with his towel. Finally, they were clear enough for him to see through. Regulus stood before him, staring. James looked down, something about his chest seemed to captivate Regulus, but he couldn’t figure out what. 

“What, did I miss something?” He looked down at his chest again, swiping his hands across the water droplets that clung there. But he couldn’t find anything amiss. Regulus let out a low moan. 

“What?” James said again. Regulus strode forward and pressed his hands against James’s bare chest. 

“Fuck sake,” Regulus's voice was thin. James stared at him confused. And then those molten silver eyes looked up at him and James stopped breathing. 

Next part

[cadybear420]

🔞 Piano Training 🔞

Fandom: High School Story (Original Trilogy)

Pairings: Aiden Zhou x Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Characters: Aiden Zhou, Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Rating: E

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Minors DNI

Additional Tags: Erotic Roleplay, Professor-Student Implications, Power Imbalance Implications, Hand Fixation, Finger Fixation, Anal Fingering, Pegging/Strap-on Usage, Maledom, Powerbottom Aiden Zhou

Word Count: 4,226

Summary: Aiden and Evie do an erotic rolplay scenario, involving Aiden training Evie's fingers for piano-playing using a very unorthodox method.

A/N: My first smut on this site. I've actually written smut of these two before, I've just been too nervous to share it here lol.

Disclaimer: While finger strength and dexterity is indeed important for being able to play the piano, IDK a goddamn thing about learning piano and so I have no idea if any of the sexy stuff Evie and Aiden do in the fic would actually enhance piano playing skills. I did try my best to look up certain facts when appropriate, but seeing of course that this is an erotic roleplay, any obvious bullshit I make up is obviously not meant to be taken seriously lol.

Tags: @choicesmc / @lover-also-fighter-also / @lilyoffandoms / @where-the-wind-travels / @gaiuskamilah / @loreofyore / @tessa-liam / @dutifullynuttywitch  

Aiden sat on his piano bench with his legs crossed, facing the door of his music room as he waited patiently for his newest piano student. He drummed his fingers lightly on the bench, occasionally checking his watch. 

Soon enough, the prospective protégé entered the room.

“Welcome, Ms. Ayana,” A gentle smile– serious, yet welcoming– grew on his face. “Are you ready for your piano lesson?”

Evie barely heard him as she took in his outfit. The grey argyle sweater vest that fit nicely over the subtle contours of his chest, over a simple black necktie and a white button up with sleeves rolled up to the biceps. The dark grey slacks that hugged his hips, ass, and legs oh-so-perfectly, paired with a sleek black leather belt. And a pair of black oxford shoes to top it all off. 

It was an ensemble he’d worn so many times, yet the way it enticed her never wore thin. Semi-subconsciously, Evie reached down towards her crotch, feeling the bulge of her strap-on under her jeans. The base tickled her clit as she gently pressed against it.

“Ms. Ayana?” he tilted his head sideways, maintaining his serious demeanor. Evie quickly retracted her hand from her crotch, while also noticing how his pupils had grown, how his cheeks had turned pale red. 

“Yes?” she answered, meeting his eyes.

“Are you ready for your piano lesson?”

“I am, indeed.”

“Good. Now, how about you start off by showing me what you know?”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t have any experience. I was wondering if you could teach me, Professor Zhou.”

“You can just call me ‘Mr. Zhou’. You don’t need to call me Profess…” 

He took a moment to repeat Evie’s words in his head a couple of times. Evie raised an eyebrow at him. 

Then, his lips started to curl into a sly grin. 

“Actually… ‘Professor Zhou’ is fine.”

“Alright…” Evie quivered slightly, feeling her heart and her clit jump. “So, uh… you’d be happy to teach me?”

“Of course. That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… so what do I do first?”

“Before you do anything… let me examine your fingers.” 

Aiden got up off the piano bench and headed towards Evie, taking both of her hands in his and running his fingers over her palms and fingertips. Her heart fluttered at his firm yet gentle touch, relishing in the familiar tenderness, the way his eyes seemed to darken at the mere sight of her hands. And knowing what it was slowly leading to… made her blood start to rush lower.

But as she spoke to Aiden, she put on a quizzical expression, raising an eyebrow at him. “Wh-what are you examining my fingers for?”

“I’m assessing your piano experience. It definitely does not seem like you have much of it. Or any instrument experience, for that matter.”

“You’re correct. I don’t know any instruments.”

“Well, you came here to learn piano, right? So that’s what we’re going to focus on. However…”

Evie felt her heart thumping faster. 

“Hm?”

“Before we have you attempting to play the piano, I think it’s important we test your finger strength first.”

Evie tensed, forcibly suppressing a very shallow gasp as her clit gave a particularly hard throb against the base of her strap-on, sending a wave of excitement through her body. “How come?”

Aiden held her fingers in his hands, caressing them and subconsciously squeezing them. “Playing the piano requires a great amount of finger strength and dexterity. A lot of instruments do, but especially the piano. If I can assess how good your fine motor skills are, I can figure out how to best train you on this instrument.” 

“Sounds good. So, what’s my first exercise?”

“We’ll start easy, but each of these little exercises will increase in difficulty,” Aiden reluctantly let go of her hands, and then stepped back. “First… remove my sweater.”

Evie almost grinned, but just barely suppressed it. Instead, she widened her eyes. 

“You want me to…?”

“Yes. Pull it off. It should be easy, shouldn’t it?”

Evie took in his unwavering expression, feeling a small tingle in her lower regions. She inhaled deeply, then nodded. As she took hold of the hem of his sweater, though, she got a brief glimpse of the growing bulge in his slacks. But she paid it no mind as she peeled off his sweater vest. 

“What next?” she asked.

“Undo the buttons on…” he paused. “Actually, before that… remove my belt and pants.”

Damn, already? Nevertheless, Evie bent down and quickly undid his belt buckle, pulled the belt out from the loops in his slacks, then unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks. She let the pants drop down around Aiden’s ankles, revealing opaque black lace panties and solid black knee-high crew socks underneath. 

“I think these exercises are a bit too easy…” she said, as her eyes roamed over his hips and legs. 

Aiden pulled himself out of his pants and smirked at her. “Don’t speak too soon. You need to undo my tie next. And I don’t just mean loosening it enough to remove– I mean untying it completely.”

Evie quivered again at his tone. “That shouldn’t be too hard…” 

She got to work– gently loosening the knot, pulling out the short end a bit, pulling out the long end completely with her thumb and forefinger, looping it back, and finally pulling it out. She stepped back, letting the tie hang over Aiden’s shoulders, under the collar of his shirt. His eyes widened. 

“Very good…” Aiden said. “You do have quite the skills…”

“I tend to wear suits to formal events, so I do have a bit of experience with neckties. I won’t lie, though… untying it can be a pain in the ass.”

“But with enough practice, it becomes less so, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s much the same with learning any skill, piano included.”

“Oh, definitely. So what’s next?”

“Now we’re getting into a truly challenging exercise. I want you to unbutton my shirt…”

“That’s it?”

“...and I want you to try and undo each button in a row. To be able to go from one button to the next, in smooth succession.”

“...oh…” 

“Watch here.”

Aiden sat down at the piano and played some of the first few scales of Für Elise , the twinkling of the keys filling the room. But as she took in the gentle and pleasant melody, her eyes soon roamed away from his hands, and down to his ass on the piano bench. 

When he was finished, he stood back up and turned to Evie. 

“Did you see how my fingers moved across the keys?”

“I… I did, yes.” No, no she didn’t. But of course, having known Aiden for nearly five years now, she was more than familiar with the elegant manner in which his hands glid across the piano keys when he played. “It hardly looked like your hands even stopped moving.”

“Exactly. Being able to play the notes in smooth succession like that is an acquired skill. And to acquire it… obviously, you have to practice it, train the muscle memory. It takes work, so don’t be upset if you don’t get it right the first time.”

“Got it. So when should I start?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Evie took a brief moment to herself. Then, she reached up and began undoing each of his buttons in a row– holding each part of the fabric in each hand and pulling the hole over the button. Most of the buttons went out fairly smoothly, but for a few of them, it took Evie a little longer to open. 

After she undid the last button, she withdrew her hands, letting his shirt hang open to expose his chest and stomach. She took a brief moment to gaze at his features before turning her head up to him. 

“How was that, Professor?”

“For a beginner, you did quite well. You, of course, need more practice, but you seem to be on the right track,” he grinned broadly at her. 

“Yay!” Evie bounced up and down a little. 

“And keep in mind, if you do practice it more, you’ll soon realize a big factor of these particular sorts of skills is barely having to think about what you’re doing. When you train the muscle memory well enough, you should be able to go through the necessary hand and finger movement patterns by pure instinct, without even having to think about which one comes next. That’s the key to undoing buttons or playing certain notes in smooth succession.”

“Awesome… so are we gonna practice that some more?”

“Actually… we’re onto the final exercise.”

Evie felt her face heat up, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it. “And what is that?”

“Before we train your fine muscle memory skills on the piano, I want to do something a little more focused on… stamina .” Aiden smirked again, seemingly holding back a smile. “It’s just as important to be able to work the keys without getting tired or sore.” 

“And what will my exercise be for that?”

“Allow me to show you.”

Aiden closed the third highest button of his shirt and then tied the hanging pieces together into a knot just under his chest, covering his tits while fully exposing his stomach. Then he hooked his thumbs into his panties and pushed them down, letting them fall to the floor and freeing his slightly-dripping erection. Evie drew in a sharp gasp, and didn’t even bother to suppress it this time. 

“Is something the matter, Ms. Ayana?”

“N-no, just… what exactly is my next exercise?”

“I’m about to show you. First… you’ll need this.” 

Aiden stepped out of his underwear, then went to his discarded slacks and fished out a small tube of lubricant from the pocket. He returned to Evie and handed the tube to her. 

“Since when did people use lubricant for playing the piano? Wouldn’t that be incredibly messy?”

“No. You’re going to be working your fingers…” Aiden turned around and bent over the piano, his chest hovering just above the keys. Then he reached back and gestured to his fully-exposed, well-prepped asshole. “...in here .”

Evie quivered, her legs trembling slightly. 

“You mean… inside…?”

“Yes. Inside.”

“How will this help with–”

“I’ll show you. Sit on the piano bench and put your index finger in…”

Evie took ragged, shallow breaths, as she sat and then brought the tip of her finger at his opening…

“Ms. Ayana, lube!”

“Right! Sorry!”

Evie opened the bottle and poured a generous amount of lube over Aiden’s hole, making him shiver as some of the slick, cool fluid spilled down his taint and his balls. 

“Okay… now may I put it in?”

“Yes, now.”

Feeling her clit throbbing, Evie brought her finger back to his entrance and pushed in. 

“O- oh ~” Aiden gasped, his body tensing and his hands almost gripping the piano as Evie’s finger slid all the way into him with ease. 

“Am I doing it right, Professor Zhou?”

“Y-yeah you… are…”

“Are you feeling alright, Professor?”

“More than alright… don’t worry about me…”

“If you say so. So what do I do next?”

“Now curl your finger down until I tell you…”

Evie did as told, pushing her finger down until she felt the small, familiar bump of his prostate. Aiden let out a soft, choked moan, tightening around her. Evie inhaled, feeling her head spin. 

“I-is… is that it…?”

Aiden nodded. “Yes… j-just like that, E– M-Ms. Ayana…” 

“Now what…?”

“That… that spot you feel in there? Keep pressing on it with your finger, as many times as you can and as hard as you can, until I tell you to stop.”

Evie wasted no time at all. She thrust her finger into him, over and over again. Aiden bit his lip and drew in a sharp breath. 

“...am I doing it right?”

“Y-yeah… keep going…”

Evie kept going, repeating the movements. Aiden arched his back, instantly bringing her gaze to his round ass. She began thrusting in just a little bit harder, dragging the pad of her finger against his spot, just how she knew he liked it. Aiden gripped the edge of the piano tightly, tensing. Every sound he let out– every gasp, moan, whimper– seemed to come out as only strained grunts and squeaks. 

“How am I doing, Professor?” Evie asked, still pumping her finger into him. 

“Very good. Your st-stamina is incredible…”

She grinned. “Thank you! But… my finger is getting a bit sore…”

“That’s understandable. Your hands are… definitely not going to be poised like this when you play an actual piano. But for now… would you like to switch fingers? Perhaps use your middle and ring fingers for the rest of this practice session?”

“Yes, please!”

Evie withdrew her index finger, and drizzled a bit of extra lubricant onto her middle and ring fingers, before pushing them into Aiden. A small “ Ah~ ” escaped his lips as her fingers stretched him, and it all made Evie’s heart race. 

“May I continue?” she asked. 

“You may, indeed.”

Evie resumed fingerfucking Aiden, but with more ferocity. With every thrust in, she pressed her fingers hard against his prostate, curling them slightly. Aiden managed to remain mostly still, but every so often, he would tense, or arch his back a bit more, or continue letting out those delectable little sounds. Even just one of these reactions seemed to prompt Evie to move her fingers faster, harder. 

Zeroed in on her boyfriend, she reached her left hand up and placed it on his smooth asscheek, holding him tight. Aiden let out a soft moan at her touch as she continued to–

“Miss Ayana! ” Aiden turned his head back towards her with a piercing glare. His voice was loud, clear, almost sharp. Evie jumped in her seat slightly and quickly looked up to meet him, pausing her movements.

“Huh? Wha- what’s wrong…?” 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh… I, uh…”

“This is a formal piano training session. Try to control your hands, would you? Such inappropriate behavior in this setting is not allowed.”

“Y-yes, A- Professor…”

Evie removed her hand from his ass and brought it down between her legs, discreetly fondling her bulge as she resumed thrusting her fingers. Aiden turned his head away again.

She carried on fingering him, and soon, Aiden’s breathing became quicker and heavier. 

“Y-you’re… almost done, Evie…”

Evie’s heart pounded in excitement. She pumped her fingers faster, while lightly brushing her thumb against his taint. He tightened around her, and that only made her speed up even more. Aiden leaned down and against the piano, making notes ring out together in oddly delightful dissonance as his chest pressed against center keys. 

“Professor…?”

“K-keep going…! D-don’t stop until I tell you…”

She did as told, keeping her fingers moving, not stopping for anything. Little by little, Aiden’s moans began to slip out more and more, and soon enough…

“Evieeee-!!!”

Aiden tensed up and climaxed with a long cry. Evie continued thrusting her fingers, massaging hard against his prostate and his taint, causing him to cum even harder and make even more of a mess of the floor beneath. She wiggled in her seat a bit as she watched him, her strap-on shifting against her, making her let out soft grunts and moans. 

Shortly later, Aiden panted softly as his body began to relax.

“You may… remove your fingers, now…”

Evie withdrew her fingers. After catching his breath, Aiden stood up and turned to face her.

“How’d I do… Professor?”

Aiden gleamed at her.

“Fantastic, Ms. Ayana. Especially for a beginner. I already have a feeling that you’ll become an exceptional piano player. 

“With a piano teacher like you? I’ll surely become great, without a doubt~”

A hint of blush grew on Aiden’s cheeks. 

“Of course, we still have to exercise the rest of your fingers… but that can wait. I think you deserve a break. Or even…” he tilted his head slightly, now with a more sly grin. “...perhaps, a prize. For being such an exceptional student today.”

“Oh yeah? And what would that prize be?”

Aiden smirked at her, before leaning down, cupping her face in his hands, and pulling in for a deep, almost ferocious kiss. Evie moaned into the kiss, and gasped loudly once he broke it.

“Professor Zhou!” she gave him a huge, wide-eyed stare, trying her hardest not to smile. “Isn’t this… well… kind of inappropriate? You are my teacher, after all…”

“...well…” 

Aiden hesitated for a moment, blushing softly as he began searching for his next words. But soon enough, they came to him, and his grin returned. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

Evie smiled back at him. “... Fuck no.”

Aiden climbed over Evie, straddling her lap on the piano bench, and pressed his lips to hers as he kissed her hungrily. Her hands gripped his waist, and quickly slid down, feeling his hips and then landing on his ass. She gave his plump cheeks a firm *squeeeeze* . Aiden let out a melodious moan, still kissing her.

“Sorry, I figured that… that would be… more acceptable, now…” Evie panted, speaking between kisses.

“It is, indeed, don’t worry.”

“Oh yeah? Hmm… then what about this?”

She moved her hand away, before bringing it against his ass with a splitting *SMACK!* . Aiden yelped, jolting a little, and Evie could feel his cock twitch against her stomach. 

“Th-that’s acceptable, too. And it’s also convincing me you’d be a fantastic percussionist as well.”

“I… might be interested in learning that, too~” Evie slapped both of her hands against Aiden’s asscheeks– more lightly this time, but still enough such that she could hear him gasp and feel his cock jump again. 

“I’d be… more than happy to train you. But for now, let’s focus on your prize. Alright?”

“Sure…”

“Now, how about we take this to the couch, where it’ll be more comfortable for what I have planned?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

Aiden climbed up off of Evie. He retrieved the tube of lube, then took her by the hand and led her to the couch. She laid down on it on her back, and Aiden reached for the front of her jeans. 

“Professor…”

“This is my prize to you. Let me take care of it.”

Evie nodded, and relaxed on the couch as Aiden undid her fly. Evie lifted her hips up, allowing Aiden to pull down her jeans and boxers, and finally release her neon-purple silicone cock from its restraints. Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest as Aiden drew his attention to her cock, his eyes darkening at the very sight. 

Wasting no more time, Aiden climbed onto the couch, straddling Evie’s legs and sitting just in front of her cock. She looked up quizzically, as he took her cock in his hand and gently stroked it, up and down. 

“Ahh…” Evie gasped, the base of the strap-on massaging against her. “You have… quite the talented hands, Professor Zhou.”

He grinned softly. “What else did you expect from a years-long musical genius?”

Aiden began gently rubbing her up and down. At first, she relaxed onto the couch, gasping and sighing and relishing the sensations. But barely even minutes later, she was squirming and looking at Aiden pleadingly. He didn’t notice, though, and only continued to jerk her off. Evie tilted her head, in the hopes that he’d notice, but to no avail. 

“Um, Professor…?”

Aiden finally met her gaze. “Yes?”

“Are we… um… not to be rude, but… uh–”

“Is this all your prize was going to be? No. Don’t worry, it’s going to be quite a bit more than just this.”

“O-okay… uh…”

“And you’re going to get it right now.”

Aiden pulled out the bottle of lube and drizzled some onto Evie’s cock. Then he lifted his hips up and moved forward, positioning his entrance over the tip. Evie bit her lip in anticipation, her heart pounding so hard it was almost sure to burst.

Aiden looked down towards her. “Are you ready?”

“Hurry up… please…”

Aiden slipped his hands under Evie’s shirt, sliding them over her toned stomach as he began to lower himself down, taking her all in. He bit his lip, trying but failing to hold back a moan, as he was slowly filled up by Evie’s cock. 

“Fuck…” she gasped. 

Aiden settled himself on her lap, sighing contentedly as he completely enveloped her. He gently massaged his fingers over her stomach, tracing the bumps and grooves of her washboard abs. His eyes met hers, his gaze half-lidded and tender, yet twinkling with a hint of mischievousness.

“You feel so good, Ms. Ayana…”

Evie grinned giddily at him, facing him back with a delightful little sparkle in her eyes. “A-as do you~” 

Evie reached up to Aiden’s waist and caressed down, over his hips and ass. Aiden inhaled deeply, chest rising, as he took in the sight and feeling of his student under him. Especially that damn smile on her face. The same damn smile she always had when she was under him. The one that made all his insecurities and worries seem to melt away. The smile that said “I trust you”. 

And just then, to accompany this smile, Evie gave his ass a firm *squeeze* that said “Hurry the hell up already, dammit!”. 

Aiden chuckled softly. Then, bracing himself, he lifted his hips up, and then thrust back down onto her. The base of the strap-on ground against her clit as his ass thrust against her hips. Then he lifted up again, then thrust back down again. Again and again and again… 

“Ooooh~” Evie let out a deep groan, throwing her head back against the cushions. “Do you do this with- ahh… all your students, P-professor?”

“Hmm…” Aiden stopped moving for a moment. “No, I have not. You’re an exceptional case.”

“Well, perhaps you should. I bet it’ll be very effective.”

“I’ll consider it. But for now… you’re more important.”

Aiden continued to ride Evie, bouncing up and down on her hips. He quit trying to hold back, letting his moans and gasps and groans come out in perfect harmony with how he moved. He kept a steady momentum, soon building up sensual rhythm with his movements. Frequently, he’d roll his hips back and forth as he thrust down, sometimes twisting them or rolling them side-to-side. 

He didn’t stop for a second. Every movement was smooth, deliberate… like he’d rehearsed it thousands of times before. 

“Ah~ Aiden– Professor… I… hah~ ”

“I take it you’re enjoying this, Ms. Ayana?”

“You… bet I am… haaahh~” 

Aiden’s eyes remained fixed on Evie, who looked back up at him with her classic drunken expression. Her darkened, half-lidded eyes. Her head slightly rolled over to the side. Her big, broad, slightly goofy smile that always made warmth spread through his body. 

He just couldn’t help himself. He rounded forward, leaning down to capture Evie’s lips in a deep kiss. He rolled his hips gently, still fucking her cock, making sure to not let go of it. Meanwhile, his own erect cock leaked with precum. 

“Professor…” she said, in an almost choked whisper. 

Evie could feel his cock twitch slightly as he kissed her again. And again. And again. All while continuing to gyrate on top of her, not missing a beat.

Eventually, Aiden sat back up and continued riding her as per usual again. A few minutes later, Evie began groaning, feeling that familiar build-up in her nether regions. 

“Aiden… I… I’m gonna…”

Aiden made his thrusts smaller, now swiveling his hips against her and intensifying the pressure against her. 

“Hnnh… ohhhh…. fuuuck…” Evie groaned as she felt her body tighten.

Aiden held onto her sides, rolling his hips faster and harder, more and more, panting faster and faster. Evie held on desperately to his ass, fingers digging into his cheeks, and began moving her own hips upwards to meet him. Her clit pulsed harder and harder, and with just a few more thrusts…

“Aiden-!!!”

Evie bucked her hips upwards and held them against Aiden’s ass, holding onto his hips desperately, as her climax raked through her body. Aiden continued to grind against her, making sure her cock massaged his prostate. Even as Evie began to relax, her orgasm washing over, he continued to ride her… and in time, Aiden clenched his teeth, yelling out as he reached his second climax of the day. He quickly grabbed his own cock as he did, spilling all over his hand and onto Evie’s stomach. 

After they both caught their breaths, Aiden climbed off of Evie’s cock. They cleaned up, and then Aiden laid down on top of Evie, his legs draped over her sides and his ass just gently brushed against her cock. Evie wrapped her arms around his upper back, pulling him close and grinning ever-so-widely. Aiden rested against her, nuzzling gently against the crook of her neck and planting a tender kiss onto her skin. 

“Sooo… when’s my next training session gonna be?”

“Hmm… how about the same time, tomorrow? In order to more effectively train you… I’d like to meet with you every day. If that’s okay with you, Ms. Ayana?”

Her grin grew into a devilish smile.

“As long as you’re the one training me, Professor Zhou… that’s more than okay with me.”

[avocado-writing]

notes: okay. this is the double ball gag fic. it also has crowley & aziraphale manifesting vaginas but still being male presenting bc nonbinary angels/demons can do what they want. everyone has sex very gender nonconformingly.

pairing: crowley x reader x aziraphale. Dom!Reader, Sub!Crowley/Aziraphale

words: 1.6k

rating: E, minors DNI (dom/sub; shibari; overstimulation; aftercare)

if you like my work here’s my kofi!

Outside of Aziraphale’s bookshop London is busy. People walk with purpose and without care, bumping shoulders and swapping unpleasantries. Outside they’re human: crass, bitter, small. 

That’s only if you’re being damning though. They’re also wonderful, bright, and marvellous. Something you’ve not quite reconciled within yourself. You’ve lived longer than any of them, so you’re not exactly a human, but neither are you like your lovers: able to change your body with just a thought and a click. Sometimes you wish you had what Aziraphale and Crowley had. Other times, you resign yourself to what you are, and be glad they can make up the other pieces. 

The tea brews, and you think about the first time you saw both of them with vulvas. 

For Crowley, it was quite soon after the three of you found each other again. Aziraphale was off on business and, given that you were still in the honeymoon decade, you and Crowley couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You had him in bed, pulling off his doublet and hose, unwrapping him like a present that was still a surprise even when you knew what the contents were. 

Only that time it was a surprise, because instead of a cock between his legs, you found a willing and wet cunt. 

“Oh!”

“Oh?” Crowley had asked, then seemed to remember and looked down. “Oh, yes. I felt like it today. Is that a problem?”

“Never,” you’d said, and slipped your fingers inside of him. 

Aziraphale changed himself around in that manner less than Crowley did. He was a creature of habit and more importantly a creature of comfort, if he was happy in how he looked it wasn’t often he’d alter it. But you remember, in seventeen-fifty, the day he — she — had walked down the stairs in her rococo dress with its risqué neckline, gorgeous blonde hair in tight curls around her heart-shaped face. She had taken your breath away. 

“Aziraphale, you’re beautiful.”

She lit up like the sun on a clear day. 

That night you’d both taken her to bed and found her pretty pussy in her fair nest of hairs. She’d cried out as Crowley sheathed himself inside her, and afterwards as you covered her opening with your mouth to taste what Crowley had left. 

Yes. You’d learned not to expect anything when it came to getting them into bed. But, usually, when you propose an idea to them, they’re more than happy to indulge in it. Especially when you use that voice. That voice which promises they’re going to be shaking messes by the time you’re done with them. 

Your timer beeps and you jump. Half an hour. It’s probably been long enough. You take the tray of tea and head upstairs. 

They’re in the bedroom, exactly where you left them, which is good - it means they didn’t try to miracle out of their bindings. Which you told them, if they did, they’d be in trouble for. And not the fun kind of trouble either, with the whipped cream. 

The bench only comes out on special occasions but you’ve had it for years. Leather, very easily wiped clean. Which is good especially for where you’ve got them at the moment. 

What a pretty scene: they’re strapped to it, both of them, bodies pressed uncomfortably close together. There are three things preventing them from moving apart. One: the way you’ve bound their ankles and hands behind them to the bench effectively sealing them in place with the shibari rope; two: the fact the nipple clamps you’ve put on them are threaded together and to pull only leads to tugging; and three: the fact you’ve got them strapped to either side of a double ball gag. 

As they hear you enter the room their eyes turn to you desperately. You take a moment to sear the filthy picture into your mind. Two of them trapped in a faux kiss, spit escaping their mouths and dripping down between them. And, between their legs, you can hear the humming of the hitachi wands you rigged to press mercilessly into both their clits. 

Half an hour they’ve been here for. You’ve tried this before in the early noughties back when they both had cocks. They’d both tapped out though (and you let them, you weren’t heartless). It was just too sensitive. A cunt, though? That can take a pounding and keep on going. 

Yes. Half an hour. You’ve left them for half an hour with no other instructions than “keep track of how many times the other one comes.”

You’d whipped Crowley’s glasses off first, though, just to make sure he didn’t try to hide anything. And that makes him look more naked than the fact he doesn’t have a shred of clothing on. You put down the tea and approach them. You can hear the harmony of their laboured breathing; inhalations they don’t need to take but do so anyway to calm themselves through the overstimulation. Crowley’s let loose a couple of tears but Aziraphale is a mess, pink and flushed, crying hard, hair stuck slick to his forehead. You tenderly wipe it free for him. 

“Aziraphale, you’re beautiful,” you whisper. Even strung out on pleasure and with his mouth stopped by rubber Crowley manages a harrumph. You roll your eyes affectionately. 

“Yes, you are too, big boy.”

You pull back and cross your arms, switching back to business. 

“Alright. One at a time I’m going to ask you to blink how many times you saw the other one come. You first, Crowley.”

Crowley looks you dead in the eyes and blinks five times. You make a mental note and turn to your angel. 

“Go on now, your turn.”

Through the tears Aziraphale gives you seven blinks. Your eyebrows raise. 

“Incredible. You must be sore, Crowley.”

Crowley makes a little noise in the back of his throat. You reach down between Aziraphale’s legs and turn off the vibrator. He chokes against the gag in relief, sucking in a deep, calming breath through his nose. Crowley looks hopeful but you make no move to do the same for him. 

Carefully you remove the ball from their mouths, undo the clamps. You listen to them both groan and stretch their jaws to get the feeling back. You undo some of Aziraphale’s ropes to allow him a little more slack and comfort, but most importantly so that he’s able to lie backwards. 

They’re messes. Spit soaks their chest having dripped down from the gag, forcibly smeared between them due to their proximity. You turn to Crowley. 

“Alright now, darling. Clean him up.”

He looks confused, dazed, all of his attention still on his cunt. He wiggles his hands only to find them still trapped. You reach out and open his mouth for him, pressing your thumb between his lips. 

“With your tongue, darling. Go on. Be a good boy, and I’ll turn it off.”

“Fuck,” Crowley manages, before reaching over to Aziraphale. You watch him work him over, licking him clean from the mixture of sweat and spit, enjoying the way the angel’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of his husband’s tongue. When you believe Crowley has done a thorough enough job you manoeuvre Aziraphale down even further, supporting him as he lies on his back and spreads his legs. His pussy is a puffy pink and glistening with come. You nod the demon towards it. 

“Little more, Crowley.”

He finds just enough room in his binds to lean forward and press his mouth to Aziraphale’s entrance, his tongue licking careful stripes over the angel’s lips. Aziraphale cries out as his poor cunt is once again wracked with pleasure, and you undo his ropes to allow for him to slip one hand free and bury it in your clothes for support. His chest hitches beautiful, back a gorgeous arch. 

You hold him, gripping him through it, until Crowley is done. 

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper to him, sliding your finger into his red locks and pulling his head back gently to face you. His eyes are wide and exhausted, but full of satisfaction as you finally turn his hitachi off. You kiss him, long and slow, touching your tongue against his and tasting Aziraphale off his lips.

Finally done, finally spent, you begin to dismantle the set-up. Yes, they could miracle themselves free, but that takes away from the intimacy of it. The care. They collapse in your arms as you undo the ropes and you help them over to the bed, massaging the feeling back into their limbs. All the while you pepper them with kisses and praises both, telling them how well they did, how good they are. 

“Tea or water?” you ask them both. The unanimous response is ‘tea’, so you bring it over to them from your tray. As they drink it down — well, what you’ve made them do is thirsty work — you head into the en-suite and grab a wet flannel. They nuzzle into each other as you begin to wipe them down, clear the sweat and stickiness from their bodies. When you reach between Crowley’s legs he hisses and you stop. 

“Sore?”

“Mmm.”

“I'm sorry darling. But was it good?”

He nods enthusiastically, pressing his face into the soft space between Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder. 

Later, you’ll run them a bath, take your time washing them down with the nice body soak. You’ll discuss the whole scene and hear with enthusiasm that it’s something they’d like to do again; Crowley’s pretty sure he can last longer next time. You’ll take them downstairs and make dinner and collapse into a cuddly pile on the sofa, watching that show you all like from the eighties. 

But for now you let them rest, sitting at the head of the bed to stroke their hair, and being there if they need anything in the world.