#it's a normal guy au it makes sense in my head
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
rapturebin · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
no brain brothers
570 notes · View notes
petorahs · 5 months ago
Text
Aventurine and Sunday doomed soulmates in a yuri way... does no one else get the vision...
21 notes · View notes
roseworth · 2 years ago
Note
Tim really is the easiest Robin to get rid of narratively and the sooner people realise this the better society will become
REAL. rip tim but it is so much more fun when you replace him !! people bend over backwards to put tim into aus when really you can just get rid of him <3 plus by not making him robin you’re actually decreasing his trauma bc most of the bad things that happen to him happen because he’s robin whereas if he’s not robin he just gets to live his normal ass life
18 notes · View notes
rinneverse · 10 months ago
Text
࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! — 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒊 𝒚𝒖𝒖𝒋𝒊. ˒ ⊹
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
me and my roommate get drunk one night and end up fucking!!!! oh my god, this is so awkward…
Tumblr media
୨ৎ syn. it’s your final year of uni—after midterms come to a close, you decide to celebrate by getting absolutely SMASHED with your roommate, itadori yuuji. much to your chagrin, this decision comes with a boatload of consequences. how do you navigate the awkward morning after with your golden retriever of a roommate!? (4.8k)
୨ৎ pairing. itadori yuuji x f!reader
୨ৎ cw. modern au, fem!reader, both yuuji and reader are in their final year of uni and are implied to be 21+, alcohol mentions, drunk sex, dubious consent (read prev warning), pet names used (baby, pretty, angel), oral (f!receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, dealing w/ the repercussions of fucking your roommate the morning after (but it ended up alot more fluffier and romantic than i intended because i love him), minors + ageless blogs dni! 18+ content under the cut!!
୨ৎ love, oak! oh christ almighty. i like itadori yuuji a normal amount. i just really really think he'd make the perfect boyfriend ever. first time writing for him so hoping and praying he isn’t incredibly ooc but regardless,, hope u guys like this i wrote it with my entire clit :3 crossposted to ao3 here!
[ main m.list! ┊coming soon... ]
Tumblr media
“Yuu~ji!”
Your lilting voice carries through the shared living space of your apartment. Shuffling in through the entryway, the door clicks shut behind you as you peer around the corner of the entrance hallway.
“You there? Yu?”
You hear a muted groan come from the couch in response.
Toeing off your shoes with a giggle and setting them onto the shoe-rack (the same shoe-rack you constantly have to pester Yuuji about—”Yu, don’t just leave your shoes on the floor! The rack is right there!”—every other day), you peek over the back of the fluffy couch in the living area and find Yuuji sprawled on his stomach over it, face shoved in a pillow.
“How are you feeling?” you ask.
“Like I’m dying,” comes his muffled reply.
You reach a hand down to tousle his already messy bubblegum pink hair. He weakly bats a hand at you.
“Surely you can live a little longer for a night out with your favorite roommate?”
With a grunt, Yuuji flips over, lying on his back. He blinks once, twice. Then he grins; that familiar, radiant grin that makes your heart speed up a little in your chest. You can feel your own smile widen in response.
“I think I can do that,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. He tilts his head at you. “You’re not gonna pass out on me again though, are you?”
Your eyes narrow slightly in challenge. Bringing your face closer to his by leaning over the couch, you reply snarkily, “and you’re not gonna force me to shoulder you the whole way home again, are you?”
Yuuji’s eyes widen at the new proximity, a faint rosiness rising to his cheeks that makes you giddy. His throat bobs before he replies, “No, promise I won’t.”
You think you see his eyes flick down momentarily—towards the swell of your chest, exposed by the low-cut top you had chosen to wear today—causing a smug sense of satisfaction to pool in your tummy. You lean further, the urge to be a tease winning out over your usual sense: over the notion that you shouldn’t be flirting with the guy you live with. It's entirely a bad idea (and yet here you are, doing it anyways).
Yuuji’s lips part slightly; when he meets your gaze again, there’s hunger shining in his big brown eyes, hazy and diluted by conflict. You can see the inner strife going on in his head already: he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his roommate. He shouldn’t be a perv.
You shouldn’t be feeling this way about him either, but you just can’t help yourself. Something about the way he’s looking at you fills you with a streak of confidence that throws all common sense out of the window.
“Good. Be ready at 7?” Your tone has noticeably lowered, nearly a purr even as you smile innocently down at him.
Yuuji swallows again, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Sure—okay. Sounds good!” He babbles nervously.
It’s cute. He’s cute.
“Cool. ‘m gonna get a nap in then.”
He nods his head slowly. The tension hovers in the air between you, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Slowly, ever so slowly, you straighten, watching as his eyes never leave your form. You bite your lip and offer Yuuji a softer smile before you turn on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.
You can feel the way his eyes bore holes into your back as you walk away, skirt swishing with every step. You purposefully sway your hips a little more despite yourself and you think you hear him choke slightly, a sound that makes you feel much more smug than it realistically should.
As you close the door to your bedroom, the only thing on your mind isn’t how tired you are from dealing with midterms—it’s how Yuuji looked at you just moments ago, eyes gleaming with raw want, like you were a five star meal served on a silver platter. You clutch your chest as you flop onto your bed.
There’s always been an underlying tension between you and Yuuji. It used to be easier to ignore, something left tucked away in the corners of your mind, leaving you to instead settle for an easy friendship. Something that doesn’t complicate things, especially since you live together. There’s no avoiding any awkward encounters should either of you decide to take that step.
But lately, things have been coming to a boiling point. You’re not sure if it’s the stress of your final year of uni dawning upon you or if its just years of tension finally being pulled taut enough to snap—whatever it is, it has muddled your senses enough to find flirting with Yuuji fun instead of something forbidden. It has you pushing boundaries you never thought you would push with him before.
Oh, well. If there was any time for things to make some bad decisions and get a little complicated with your incredibly handsome roommate, your last year of uni might just be perfect. Screw the consequences.
Tumblr media
“Yuu,” you moan, drunkenly stumbling into a wall of muscle.
Thankfully, that wall of muscle happens to be Itadori Yuuji. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, a hiccup bubbling from his lips as he grins down at you.
“Hey there,” Yuuji laughs. “You okay?”
“Yeeeeaaahhh,” you slur. “Are we home yet?”
“Almost there. Hang on a little bit more for me, okay?”
The night air is crisp and cooling against your balmy skin, a welcome relief after spending hours in a bar packed with sweaty bodies and bass thrumming through your veins. It’s breezy, fallen leaves rustling across the ground as the wind scatters them along the sidewalk. A particularly stronger gust has you pressing closer to Yuuji, your little top and skirt doing little to protect you against the autumnal weather.
Yuuji pauses, making sure you’re steady before he shrugs off his jacket.
“Here, put this on,” he says, gently maneuvering your arms into the warm sleeves. His cologne wraps around you in its embrace, warm and musky and tinged just a little bit with alcohol. You smile.
Megumi and Nobara have already made their separate ways home, the former grabbing an uber while Nobara hitched a ride home with Maki. You can’t help the way you giggle and stumble as Yuuji ushers you forward again. “Nobaraaa’s gonna geeet iiiiit,” you snicker, latching onto the hard muscle of Yuuji’s bicep to steady yourself. “Did you see the way Maki w’s lookin’ at her? I wish someone looked at me that way.”
Yuuji is probably about equally as blasted as you are (you went shot for shot, after all), but he manages to carry himself in a more sober manner than you. He lets you latch onto him like a koala as he guides you through the doors of your apartment building.
He’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so—he’s usually a chatterbox when drunk.
“Yuuji? Did’ya even hear me?” you push.
“I heard ya,” Yuuji hums, pulling you into the elevator with him. As the machinery moves up to your floor, it makes your stomach lurch—forcing you to grab onto Yuuji tighter and bury your face in his shoulder.
“Are we there yet?” You grumble into his arm, clutching him tight.
“Almost,” he replies softly. You think you feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the crown of your head, but with the way everything is spinning, you can’t be entirely sure.
Between some time and the next, you’re finally ambling into your apartment, clutching Yuuji’s jacket tight around you. As the door clicks shut, you spin to face him—
—and end up nearly face planting, if not for the way Yuuji surges forward to catch you in his arms. “Woah there,” he mumbles. “Steady. Don’t move too fast, or you’ll fall.”
Despite his words, he has to lean against the now shut door to keep himself upright, you can feel that much. You grasp the fabric of his shirt in balled fists, pressed against the sturdy surface of his chest. You can feel the way his muscles flex and roll as he shifts with the way you’re pressed up against him.
When you look up at him, doe-eyes wide, you’re met with brown eyes glimmering with want. Lust.
“Yuu… ji?” Your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. He inhales in sync, his hands dropping to curl around your waist. He holds you gently, like a porcelain teacup on the verge of breaking.
It's quiet. There's a dazed look in his eyes as he stares at you.
“Can I kiss you?” The question falls from his lips softly—but with the silence of the apartment, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, it’s earth shattering. His eyes drop down to your glossy lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own.
You’re not in your right mind. This is a bad idea. You know this.
You don’t care.
Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you tug him down to you, lips meeting in a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s electrifying, everything you’ve ever wanted and needed in this one moment, warmth exploding in your chest like a dying star.
Fuck. You were kissing Itadori Yuuji—and it’s everything you dreamt it would be.
He pants your name amidst kisses but it’s hard to hear with your heart roaring in your ears, a drum beating an unsteady rhythm that throws you off balance in your very core. You stumble into the shoe-rack trying to hastily drag him over to the couch. Shoes clatter to the floor as you tumble into him, a moan falling from your lips as he paws at you while your hands tangle in his hair.
“I was lookin’ at you like that, you know?” Yuuji groans as the two of you fall back onto the couch. He holds you on top of him, letting you get comfy as you straddle his lap before he continues. “You haven’t noticed?”
His voice is heavy, dragging drunkenly as you stare down at him. In this position, with Yuuji laid back on the couch, you feel like you’re towering over him—giving you some semblance of control, even though you know perfectly well that Yuuji can flip you over and take you just like that. You dip your hands under his shirt, nails gently scratching against the velvet wrapped steel planes of his abs. Pushing the fabric up, you reveal the faint happy trail that begins at his navel, disappearing teasingly under the waistband of his jeans. You bite your lip.
“Hey,”—your name falls from his lips in the form of a plea, desperate and sweet—”Look at me.”
Big hands squeezing your hips force your attention back to him. You finally listen and meet his gaze, finding that his eyes are heavily eclipsed by dilated pupils, leaving a faint ring of hazel in its wake. It’s like a dark sun, or perhaps a black hole threatening to pull you into him, consumed by everything that is Itadori Yuuji.
You think you wouldn’t mind that one bit.
“Are you sure this is okay?” He’s worried, something that makes your heart warm fondly, giving you a moment of clarity amidst the fog of lust that addles your brain. The guys you typically went home with sometimes never found it in themselves to care too much about you. But Yuuji… he’s different. He does care. Yuuji continues, a touch softer, “We’re both drunk… what if we regret it in the morning?”
You slowly reach down to cradle his face in your hands. When you speak, it’s with a bold certainty that Yuuji cannot argue with: “I know I won’t regret it.”
Yuuji nods his head. With that anxiety out of the way, he surges up to kiss you with renewed vigor, tugging his jacket off of you and pulling the hem of your top over your chest to reveal your tits. When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the pretty lace bra you had opted to wear out tonight.
“You’re beautiful,” Yuuji says softly. A groan catches in his throat as you roll your hips down against his, delicious friction against his erection that has you mewling for more.
“Yu,” you sigh out as he unhooks your bra with clumsy fingers, pulling your shirt off as well in one go. The garments flutter to the floor, forgotten.
“I mean it—you really are.” His voice has noticeably deepened, taking on a huskier tone that makes your toes curl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I never can.”
He presses another kiss to your lips, quick and chaste, drawing a path down your jaw, the slope of your neck. He removes a hand from your waist to palm at your sensitive breast, drawing a whimper from you that has his cock twitching in his pants. “I can’t believe you’ve never noticed. Our friends tease me all the time for it, you know?” He sighs, nearly a whine, words slurring together in a lust-drunk haze as he presses a kiss to your collar. “I could never take another girl home with me because I only want you.”
Yuuji’s drunken confession sends you reeling, thighs tightening together around him as you tilt his chin up towards you. Love and adoration glimmers in your eyes as you respond gently, “I only want you, too.”
He smiles at you then, scooping you up in his arms as he rises. “Don’t wanna ruin the couch,” he murmurs, strong hands grasping at the fat of your ass as he carries you with ease. “Your room or mine?”
“Yu—” you gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, “mine, please.”
Even drunk, he moves with you with a practiced ease—as if you’ve done this your entire lives. As he lays you on your bed, he curls over you, lips pressing together messily as his hands fiddle with the hem of your skirt. There’s a brief moment where he pants, “Can I take them off, pretty? Can I?,” as he nips at your lower lip. You nod your head; immediately he’s sliding them off, leaving you in your lacy undergarments and feeling unfairly naked compared to him. You cross your arms over your chest shyly.
Yuuji smiles sweetly as he kneels, pressing a kiss to your navel.
“Don’t hide from me, baby. I wanna see you..” He trails off as he hooks his fingers under the band of your panties, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. You can only manage to nod your head—words have entirely escaped you at this point. If you spoke, you weren’t sure what, exactly, would come out.
The way he pulls the fabric off of you is almost reverent, his eyes never leaving your body as he sets your panties to the side. His breath is hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.
“Baby,” Yuuji starts, the pet name falling from his lips with ease, like something familiar, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”
Calloused fingertips press into the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he pushes your legs open, even going as far as hooking a leg over his shoulder as he settles between them. His breath is hot and heavy as he grows closer to your core. It’s embarrassing, and you want to press your legs together, but Yuuji doesn’t allow this. He’s firm in his place, holding your legs wide open, baring you to him.
He starts gentle. A kiss to the apex of your thighs, a gentle finger running along your sensitive, weeping slit. A shiver runs down your spine as he parts you open, eyes raptly on you.
“Don’t stare,” you whine. “It’s embarrassing.”
He murmurs a soft apology, taking one more second for himself before he dives right in: tongue lapping at you voraciously, pulling the sweetest of moans from your lips as he eats you out like a man starved. You try to press your thighs together once more but he holds you open, unyielding in his grip as his tongue dips in your slit, then draws upwards, making circles around your clit.
He’s messy in the way he eats you out. He doesn’t hold back, either: he laps at you like he’s a dehydrated man at last finding an oasis, drinking in your juices like it’s the finest of nectars. Slick covers his chin as he raises his head to look at you, half-lidded eyes meeting yours as he eases a finger into you. It slips in with ease, aided by how wet you’ve gotten on just his tongue alone.
Your back arches as he pumps his finger into you. You need more. “Yuuji,” you plead in a broken moan. “Need more—want your cock inside me, I can take it.”
His eyes widen slightly, but he’s nodding his head like an eager puppy, withdrawing his hand and rising to pull his clothes off. You whine, a soft plea of, “hurry, need you now,” that has Yuuji clumsily fumbling at the button of his jeans. He doesn’t even pull them off fully, letting the fabric pool at his ankles as he takes his dick in his hands and presses his hips to yours. His shaft presses against your messy slit, pulsing and needy.
“Fuck,” he curses, a soft whine sounding deep in his throat as his hips cant against yours. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you take in the sight: Yuuji, desperate, grasping your legs and nearly folding you in half as his cock rests on your pelvis, your navel. He’s big. The thought of someone his size fucking into you should be scary, but you know Yuuji will take care of you—or perhaps that’s the liquor in your brain telling you that you can take it, that you need him inside of you now.
“You’re gonna feel me so deep, baby,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight. You buck your hips slightly, barely moving thanks to the hold he has on you.
“I can take it,” you repeat, your breathing growing heavier with every passing second. “I need it. Give it to me, Yuuji.” Your hands grasp at the sheets beneath you as finally, finally, he slides the tip against your slit, catching a few times against your clit (”Yuuji, stop teasing me!”) before he finally eases into you, his fat tip breaching your weeping cunt. The stretch burns, but the sensation is not an unwelcome one.
Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as Yuuji hunches over you, pressing further into your pussy. It feels like it should almost be fucking impossible how deep he reaches inside you like this.
“Baby, baby,” Yuuji whines against the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet. You can feel his chest heave against yours as he struggles to regain his bearings. “You’re so tight—don’t think I can pull out, you feel s’good…”
As he bottoms out, you think you might die like this. His cock fills you so perfectly, pulsing and twitching inside you as he forces himself to still—to give you time to adjust.
You don’t want time, though. You really will fucking die if he doesn’t move soon.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to you to messily slot your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as his hips buck into yours. “Yuuji,” you breathe out against his lips. “Fuck me.”
“Okay, baby.” He nods, pressing his sweat slick forehead to yours as he moves his hips. He starts slower, long strokes that force you to feel all of him, deep and all-consuming and overwhelming your senses with him, strong arms caging you against the bed as he fucks into you again and again and again.
Yuuji’s pace picks up, your moans a sweet melody in his ears that spurs him on, making him lose all ration in his brain—it’s evident, in the way he growls almost animalistically, hips starting to rut into yours with reckless abandon. His balls slap against your ass, accompanied by a lewd squelch with every thrust into your messy cunt.
“Yu, fuck—please,” you sob with every thrust. He angles his hips a little differently until he finds the perfect spot—that sensitive little part of your cunt that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. Once he finds it, he narrows his focus on it, bullying his cock relentlessly into your pussy until you’re sobbing.
Your nails scratch along his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Yuuji groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing and biting at the sensitive flesh as his hips pound into you.
“G’nna cum, don’t stop, ohhhh god,” you gasp out as Yuuji nips at the flesh of your collar. You claw at his back, toes curling in the air when you feel him slide a hand between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit, adding to the orchestra of sensations that are driving you mad with pleasure.
“Cum for me, angel,” Yuuji urges you breathlessly, fucking you with a renewed fervor. His hips are starting to stutter, and his large hands are grasping your thighs in a bruising grip as you convulse around him. His voice alone is enough to tip you over the edge; you’re falling into him, into oblivion, orgasming so hard your vision goes dark for a moment.
A long moan of his name falling from your lips is enough to push him over with you, white hot ropes of his cum coating your pulsing heat. You feel utterly breathless, boneless, as Yuuji slowly eases your legs down. The ache is pleasant.
“Baby,” Yuuji pants softly, breaking the pleasant silence as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. “I’m still… can I..?”
Oh, god. He is still rock hard inside of you. Your pussy is still fluttering with the world-shattering orgasm he had just given you—you’re not sure if you can take more.
But Yuuji looks at you with pleading eyes, your name falling from his lips with such desperation that you’re nodding your head, opening your arms for him. He smiles down at you, and as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hips slowly start to rut into yours again.
You’re not sure how many rounds you go with Yuuji—the rest of the night is a blur of moans and groans, of him making you cum again and again and again, as many times as you can possibly take.
Tumblr media
You wake up with a pounding headache and a foreign weight slung over your chest.
“Oh, fuck,” you hiss quietly to yourself, voice raspy with remnants of sleep. “How much did I drink last night?”
Blinking open bleary eyes, you squint against the light that filters into the room—your room, which doesn’t make any sense because you never bring home your one night stands. Your hand brushes against the strong arm slung over you, and that’s when you hear an all-too-familiar snore.
“Oh, fuck.” You repeat, dread creeping into your groggy voice.
That was Itadori Yuuji in bed with you. That was your fucking roommate, naked in bed with you. You’re wearing his overly large t-shirt, and there’s an ache between your thighs that explains exactly what had transpired when you returned home with him last night.
You don’t remember too much, typical of nights where you have a little too much to drink. What you can grasp—mere wisps in the back of your mind—are fleeting moments of mind-numbing pleasure, or of sweet-nothings being whispered into your ear. Whatever scraps of memory you do have are enough to make you want to scream into a pillow out of sheer embarrassment.
You feel the arm around you tighten as Yuuji pulls you into his chest and you squeak.
Oh, that’s just fucking mortifying.
“Mmh… huh?” Yuuji mumbles sleepily. He slowly blinks, eyes focusing on you after a few moments. “What are you doing in my bed..?”
Your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, grasping at the sheets to keep your lower body covered as you do so. Your mouth opens and closes as you look for the right words to say.
Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow. He seems to have come to a realization without you having to say it out loud.
“Oh. This isn’t...” Yuuji frowns. He’s calm in a way that confuses you—why isn’t he freaking out like you are? “We got really hammered last night, huh?”
You slowly nod your head in agreement. “Do you… remember anything?”
Your attention is drawn to his lips when he bites his lower one in thought, then drifts downards when you catch the blooming hickeys on his neck in your peripherals. Oh, god, did you leave those? What were you thinking?
All too slowly, Yuuji’s eyes meet yours. The way he looks at you is almost unbearable. There’s a sinking sensation in your chest: you think he might apologize, or tell you that last night was a mistake. That he won’t let it happen again. Quickly, you blurt, “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”
Yuuji tilts his head, his train of thought forgotten. “Say what?”
“I get that you regret it.” The words start tumbling out of your mouth and there’s little you can do to stop it. “It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings. I know you’re too kind to just say it outright like that—“
Yuuji opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel onwards, looking down at your lap. You’re too mortified to look at him directly.
“—And I understand if you maybe want to avoid me for awhile? I know things will be awkward, so seriously, take whatever time you need—“
Your onslaught of words is cut off by Yuuji cupping your face in his hands as he leans forward to kiss you. It’s gentle, and while it only lasts for a heartbeat, to you it feels like it lasts a lifetime.
Stunned, you lift a hand to your lips, ghosting your fingers over them as you stare at him. You’re absolutely dumbfounded.
“Sorry,” Yuuji starts softly, his thumb brushing your cheek gently. “I didn’t know how else to stop you.”
You blink at him, making a noise in the back of your throat. It’s an exhale of breath, of one you didn’t even know you were holding until just now.
“I don’t regret it. And I really hope you don’t, too.” Yuuji sighs gently. When his eyes meet yours, he looks unsure, but he continues, “I meant everything I said last night. You’re beautiful, and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Have been, for awhile now.”
“Oh,” is all you can manage. You think your heart might explode in your chest. It beats an uneven rhythm, pulsing against your ribcage as if it’s bound to break out any moment now.
“I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, yanno? But now that, uh...” He clears his throat. “Last night happened… I might as well come out with it.”
You nod your head as his words sink in. Yuuji visibly gets more distressed with every second that passes in tense silence, so you say, “Okay. I see.”
He swallows—you know what he wants to ask: ‘Do you like me like that, too?’ but he doesn’t voice it out loud. It hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You carefully deliberate your next words.
“Will you take me on a date, Yuuji?” you ask bluntly.
“What?”
“I said—”
“No, no, I heard what you said.” His eyes widen slightly, stark relief visible in his irises. “Are you sure? I mean—I’d love to. Yes. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, angel. You name it.”
You smile fondly at Yuuji—you think if he had a tail, it would be wagging ferociously right about now. “First, you can get me a glass of water and some ibuprofen. Then we’ll talk about date plans, ‘kay?”
Yuuji nods his head fervently. He rises out of bed—and quickly realizes that he’s still naked. “Oh—shit, don’t look,” he stammers, lunging for his boxers that were conveniently laid out on the floor as he blushes. Once he’s got those pulled on, he turns towards you. You’ve politely averted your eyes.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” he murmurs, grabbing your attention by gently grasping your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Anything else I should grab ya?”
You feel your face warm up at the affection as you shake your head. With a smile, Yuuji shuffles out of your room to go fetch your requested items.
As you sit in the quiet of your bedroom, listening to Yuuji rustle through the bathroom, you think that maybe fucking your roommate wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Tumblr media
please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!
4K notes · View notes
thehouseofurmotha · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Shinsou dating Aizawa's daughter head cannons :)
Pairing: Shinsou x Aizawa!Reader
I'm also working on a soulmate au with Shinsou 🤭 I fear he may be my favorite
Tumblr media
• You and him meet when Aizawa asks you to spar with him, as you both have quirks that are less equipped for close range combat. You're in class 1-A too which is the class Shinsou would most likely join when he ends up in the hero course so it just made sense.
• You whoop his ass, he's immediately in love. He thinks you're extremely skilled and talented and pretty much begs you to help train him with your dad.
• Maybe it's because he wants to see you more often, but you don't need to know that.
• You ultimately agree and you and Shinsou pretty muuuuch become besties.
• But this is not enough for this man because he is absolutely enamored with you.
• One day while the two of you are sparing, your father leaves to go get another cup of coffee. And at this point he finally manages to pin you to the ground.
• For whatever reason he decides this is the best time to shoot his shot and is like, "Go on a date with me?" While he's just casually got you pinned to the ground.
• You don't manage to give him an answer before your dad gets back, but after you get up and brush yourself off you look at him and mouth a simple 'yes'.
• He smiles like a madman at this and your father looks at him and asks him what he's smiling about. He quickly goes back to his normal tired resting face with a quick nothing.
• Aizawa def thinks this is weird but he decides not to press any father. He feels bad pressing kids to tell him something they don't really have to.
• You guys go on a few dates before you officially start dating. Your father definitely notices that something about the two of you has changed but he doesn't realize that it has to do with the two of you being together.
• He finds out when he walks into your room while you and Shinsou were supposed to be just hanging out and watching a movie. Which he didn't find odd because the two of you had become fast friends with the friendly competition of sparring. But as he walks into your room to ask the two of you want for dinner he finds the two of you making out.
• He IMMEDIATELY kicks Shinsou out of your guys apartment. He isn't really mad that you guys are together he's just mad that you hid it from him and he had to find out like this.
• You guys have a very long conversation about being safe, and he definitely calls Midnight to handle most of it because he thinks he might just simply pass out from embarrassment. (You as well)
• He tells you he doesn't really care as long as you're happy. But this man does not let Shinsou live it down.
• Bro is fighting for his life during training the next day being worked so hard.
• Shinsou eventually gets back on your dad's good side and he comes over for weekly dinners.
Tumblr media
I fear I may have an obsession with dadzawa.. and Shinsou.. I'm simply js a girl though. Anyways I hope you enjoyed :) <3 happy reading!
2K notes · View notes
cinnamorollcrybaby · 12 days ago
Text
Mama, I’m in love with a criminal 4
Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, prisoner!Sukuna, modern au, no curse au, dead dove, vivid descriptions of violence including murder and sexual assault, dark romance trope, angst, read at your own discretion
Synopsis: Sukuna is in prison because of you. He's ordered to undergo weekly counseling sessions. Talking to his counselor about you, it's apparent that his obsession with you is quite concerning.
An: Reminder, this story is dark. Take care of your mental health first. Sexual assault will be briefly mentioned, but it will not be written about in detail. Sukuna is diagnosed with borderline personality disorder at the end of this session. I want to make it clear that it is not my intention to offend anyone with this diagnosis or demonize this diagnosis. It is used to make him feel more real, and it furthers the plot. Hope you guys enjoy… only one last part after this one <3.
Session one. | Session two. | Session three. | Session four.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The counselor hadn't had time to do any more digging into Sukuna's case files this week. It was the end of the year — holidays were coming up, and that meant that annual paperwork on all of his patients were due.
His caseload was becoming too much to manage all on his own. He was thankful that the jail was finally consulting him about hiring a social worker to help out with the workload.
Checking Sukuna's chart briefly, the counselor inhaled sharply. It was finally time to talk about the crime that landed him in prison. Sure, the counselor could drag this out. He could talk about every petty theft or assault case Sukuna had been charged with, but those were pointless to talk about in the grand scheme of things.
As if on cue, a large buzzer sounded, and Sukuna was shoved into the room with the counselor before promptly being locked inside. He was shackled as always, but his demeanor was different today.
He didn't have that calloused grin or careless attitude. He sat down on the couch with a small grunt before immediately laying his head back against the piece of furniture. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly.
It was as if Sukuna knew what the counselor was going to bring up today.
"How are you holding up this week, Sukuna?" The counselor asked. Normally, they'd skip pleasantries, but the counselor sensed that Sukuna needed some priming before he got to talking.
"How am I holding up?" Sukuna echoed with a humorless laugh before shaking his head. "Don't ask stupid fucking questions. This is a prison not a 10 hour shift at a fucking factory."
Well, so much for priming.
"You don't want to talk about her today?" The counselor asked, tapping his pen against his paper. "Or is there something you're not wanting to relive."
"I can talk about her until my lungs give out." Sukuna muttered in a pained tone. He rubbed his face with his hands, cuffs clinking around in the process. He groaned as he put his hands down. "Tell me what you think I don't want to relive." He finally demanded, turning the tables on the counselor.
The counselor widened his eyes as he was put on the spot. He immediately avoided Sukuna's lifeless glare. He was definitely testing him right now — seeing if he kept up on his homework.
"You're not afraid of reliving your own pain. You don't want to relive mouse's pain." The counselor finally muttered out, using his knowledge of Sukuna to help guide him through his analysis.
Sukuna grunted in response, and the counselor took it as approval to keep going. "You weren't there to protect her. You feel like it's a failure on your end that what happened to her happened."
Sukuna's fists clenched, and his jaw tightened, but this didn't feel like his typical anger. It wasn't directed at anyone else besides himself.
"You got there a little too late. You saw what was happening to her, and you went into a blind rage. Your normal brutal, methodical, unique style to killing your victims went out the window. He needed to die right then, didn't he?" The counselor pressed on. He kept his hands on his lap to defend himself in case he said anything that teetered the line. Though, there really was no defending himself against Sukuna's hulking figure.
"He didn't deserve to live." Sukuna's voice was a low growl. His heart was pounding against his ribcage as he was reminded of his last moments with you before he incarceration.
The prisoner suddenly reached out, and the counselor flinched far back into his seat upon reflex, but Sukuna was faster. He grabbed the counselor by his dress shirt, and he patted around on his body. "I know you record these sessions, doc. I want this next part to be off the record." He demanded as he continually searched for a recording device.
The counselor tried fighting him off, but Sukuna was still stronger while he was handcuffed. "Fine-! Here! All you had to do was ask for this part to be off the record." The counselor shouted before he threw his pen over to Sukuna.
His pen had a secret recording device hidden inside, and it was promptly cut off when Sukuna snapped the pen in half without a second thought. He then threw it at the wall, ensuring that nothing would be listening in on what he was about to say.
Sitting back in his seat, he let out another stressed sigh. His twin brother's murder was a well kept secret thanks to his skills of covering up evidence, but this was his best kept secret. It physically pained him to say the words out loud.
"Mouse wanted a normal... domestic life, and I wanted to give her whatever she asked for. I started an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop, and I worked at a bike shop on the side so she could focus on figuring out what she wanted to do with life." He started off slowly. The counselor was still rattled from their physical altercation, but he was already enthralled by Sukuna's story telling abilities.
"I didn't care what I did as long as I got to be in her life. Coming home after sixteen hour shifts felt like paradise when I got to slide into bed next to her. She was the only piece of heaven that I'll ever see." Sukuna went on. His eyes were aimed at the broken pen in the corner, fully reliving what it was like to just be yours.
"Your tattoos... those came from your apprenticeship?" The counselor asked, finally taking the time to ask about the markings that covered Sukuna's body and face.
The prisoner looked at his arms and shook his head. "No, these came from over the years." He said as he slowly rose from the chair. He unbuttoned the jumpsuit and shoved it down around his waist to reveal a white undershirt that covered his broad, muscular torso.
Sukuna clearly had nothing else better to do other than work out while he was incarcerated.
The marking covered his neck, shoulders, arms, back, and chest. The counselor marveled at them for a minute, wondering how long Sukuna had to sit in a chair for all of them to be completed.
"As a gift for finishing my apprenticeship, Mouse and I got tattoos together." Sukuna explained before he raised his undershirt up. Right there on his right ribcage — a detailed portrait style tattoo of just your eyes stared back at the counselor.
Your eyes alone could tell a million words. They were gates directly to your soul. The counselor didn't know what you looked like. Your face had been scrubbed from every news outlet that reported on Sukuna's case, and the counselor couldn't remember if he saw your face in court or not.
"Does she have your eyes tattooed as well?" The counselor asked. It was the safer option because he was sure that Sukuna would probably kill him if he complimented your eyes.
"She had this-" he gestured to the tattoo that was placed on his forehead directly between his eyes, "tattooed on her back, and I tattooed my name across her ribcage in the same place I have her eyes tattooed." Sukuna explained before he redressed himself and sat back down.
"She also has a tiny mouse tattooed behind her ear. All of her work is done by me." He explained.
"Wait- You didn't come up with mouse on the spot?" The counselor asked. "That nickname actually has any meaning?"
Sukuna snickered from the counselor's assumptions. "Nah. When we were little and she wasn't talking to me yet, I use to tease her and say she was as quiet as a church mouse."
The counselor gave a small laugh, and he allowed for the silence to fill the room once more, signaling that Sukuna should get back on topic.
"I was working late most nights, and I told her it'd be worth it once I started making some real money. I just wanted to give her the life she never had. I could've provided her with peace." Sukuna explained, his eyes going back dull as all the fun was sucked right back out of the conversation.
"One night, she wanted to surprise me with my favorite dinner. I always told her not to go out alone at night. She usually waited for me to get off work if she needed to go to the store, but I guess she was worried about burdening me... foolish girl." He muttered as he stared down at his palms.
The counselor swallowed harshly, knowing what was coming next. He normally wasn't so emotionally invested in his client's lives, but Sukuna had a way of drawing him in. He was rooting for you even if he knew the result of what happened that night.
"She wasn't stupid though. Mouse was resourceful. She had a heart of gold, but she wasn't naive. She took one of my blade's with her, and she concealed it in her purse." Sukuna explained as his hands picked at the unhealed scabs on his knuckles once again.
"You don't have to go into detail. I'm honestly not sure if I could stomach that-" The counselor admitted. He knew it was unprofessional. He was supposed to be able to shoulder his clients' trauma, but he just didn't know if he could live with Sukuna's version of what happened to you.
"On her way home, that fucking... coward grabbed her. I don't- I don't know how far he got. She wouldn't tell me. I don't know if it was more for my sake or for hers." A shaky breath left his lips. He was grinding his teeth so hard that the counselor was even cringing.
"She managed to send me her location, and I immediately knew something was wrong. I just left the shop — didn't bother locking up or even telling my client where I was going. By the time I got there, my little mouse's clothes were ripped. She was a mess. He was laid out on the ground. The motherfucker died from a few stab wounds, how fucking pathetic."
"What." The counselor said as his jaw dropped. All this time, he was told that Sukuna was only caught because he killed your assailant in a crime of passion, but that wasn't the truth. He had never been baffled like this for his entire career.
"Mouse isn't some defenseless damsel in distress. You think I'd let her walk around if I hadn't taught her self defense?" Sukuna asked as he looked up at the counselor. His jaw was tight and his gaze was narrow. "I'd be damned if I let her walk around without anyway to defend herself after the shit that went down with her dad and his temper."
The counselor stayed silent. Everything he had thought about Sukuna's final murder had been a lie. He didn't kill the poor bastard out of a crime of passion. You had killed your attacker, and Sukuna took the fall for it.
Everything he had done thus far was to protect you — all of it. It was all for you.
"How did any of this end up pinned on you?" The counselor carefully asked while he was still trying to wrack his brain. A part of him wondered if Sukuna was lying, but there was no way Sukuna would lie and risk you getting into trouble for a crime that he committed.
"I have been involved in the justice system for so long. I know how crooked everything is. The district attorneys and judges aren't trying cases fairly and protecting the balance of the justice system. They're doing whatever they can to appease the politicians who have them in their back pockets. They'll sentence a serial rapist to 25 years in jail, but they'll sentence a woman defending herself from a rapist to life in jail. There's no justice in this system."
"I wasn't going to let that shit happen to mouse. I wasn't going to let her name be ruined because she defended herself and did what she had to do. I wasn't going to let her trauma be drug through court. She has so much ahead of her, and I-" Sukuna paused to take a ragged breath. It had been a long time since he had spewed out words so fast.
This was the first time he had ever been able to talk about this to anyone. Everyone fully believes that Sukuna happened to catch the guy assaulting you, and he killed him right then and there. No one knew that he hadn't been there to protect you. You had to resort to protecting yourself, and he fucking loathed the thought of you having to bear the weight of that sick son of a bitch's death on your shoulders.
For two years, he carried this weight around. It had been two years since he was sentenced. Two years since he last saw you.
He let a tear slip past his cheek. Just one -- he didn't bother to wipe it away. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.
"Take your time." The counselor murmured empathetically. This was a major break through with Sukuna. It was something that proved he wasn't a sociopath.
Sukuna could feel emotions. Perhaps, he felt them more than everyone else did. His anger was immediately rage. He was never just sad. Instead, he'd plummet into an unbeatable depression. His happiness felt like pure euphoria, and when he loved, he loved unconditionally hard.
He used you as an anchor for his tidal waves of emotions, basing them on how you acted — the girl who didn't speak and wore a mask around other people. You two were truly made for each other.
If soulmates existed, you two would be the leading example.
Sukuna took another ragged breath, taking just another second to collect his thoughts. "She has so much ahead of her, and I only had her." He managed to grit out.
"Before she could even think about trying to stop me, I ripped the gloves off that I had been using to tattoo my client. I grabbed the blade from her, and I stabbed him 32 times. I brutalized his body to make sure neither the coroner nor the forensic pathologist would be able to distinguish her stab wounds from my own." He explained solemnly. His eyes were void of any emotion while talking about what he did to your assaulter.
"The police were looking for anything to pin on me anyways. They always had thought I got off easy on my juvenile cases, and they suspected I had something to do with Jin's disappearance. They just couldn't prove anything. So, when this opportunity fell into their lap, they ran with it."
"Why didn't you try to hide the body to get away with it?" The counselor asked. Sukuna's crimes were those of cold calculation, and the fact that he made sure to strip off his gloves to taint the blade with his fingerprints proved that he was still very calculated with this murder as well.
"When he grabbed her-" Sukuna's fists tightened in his lap, "he pulled her into dark alleyway at the end of town. Bastard just thought he was going to assault her and leave her stranded in the alley- There was no way for me to move his body without being seen or caught on camera."
"I didn't try to argue when they came for me the next day. I would've willingly surrendered myself if it kept mouse out of trouble. They booked me into the county jail within hours, and I took a plea deal on my second court appearance." He explained as was back to picking at the scabs on his knuckles. They were likely never going to heal if he kept picking at them, making them bleed.
"Why didn't you go for a trial?" The counselor asked. There were ways for Sukuna to be proven not guilty. He probably would've qualified for at least a lesser charge of second degree murder or even manslaughter.
"I knew they'd try to subpoena mouse to testify. They'd drag up her trauma and make a spectacle of her in court. I wasn't going to let them try to convince her that what happened to her wasn't anything less than assault, and I wasn't going to let them retraumatize her." Sukuna spoke firmly, shaking his head.
The counselor honestly found it admirable of him. Most "Bonnie and Clyde" killers would actually turn on each other to get themselves out of trouble, but Sukuna would bear the weight of your crime on his shoulders, and he'd still find other ways to protect you from any negative consequence that he could.
"So, I took a plea deal. I plead guilty to the murder and was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole with weekly 20-minute counseling sessions. In exchange, the district attorney made sure mouse's name was scrubbed from every court document, social media outlet, and news source. They had to act like she was in the witness protection program." Sukuna explained with a sigh. It was another way to protect you.
The counselor felt strangely empty. Sukuna's and your story was tragic. A boy who fell madly in love with a silent girl and vowed to protect her from anything. Did he belong in prison for this? Does this excuse him killing your dad? Did this excuse him slaughtering his own flesh and blood? How do they move on from here?
"You were a sensation in court... had your own little fanbase and everything." The counselor hollowly mused, remembering the young women that piled into the courtroom to catch a glimpse of Sukuna. They had idolized him for what he had done. Plus... he was handsome in the most sinful way possible.
Sukuna rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue with annoyance. "The same bitches who praised me for what I had done didn't respect what I was trying to protect. They're always trying to find and leak mouse's name to the public. They don't give a fuck about me or her. They just think our story is perfect for some shitty dark romance novel."
The room fell into a tense silence once more. Neither of the two men knew how to move on from this.
The silence was finally broken with a correctional officer's voice booming through the office. "Ryomen! Your time is up!" He shouted as his fist connected against the door multiple times.
The counselor sighed as Sukuna wordlessly rose from his seat. This session had been worse than either of them could've predicted. "Take care, Sukuna. We will not meet again next week due to the holidays, but I'll see you in two weeks."
The prisoner grunted in response while still walking towards the door. The loud buzzer filled the room once more, and he was let out.
It didn't feel right to watch Sukuna walk back to his pod. The justice system had failed you as a woman, but he was willing to shield you from any harm that threatened to come your way.
𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚜: 𝚁𝚂
𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟼
𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝟹𝟶𝟷.𝟾𝟹 (𝙵𝟼𝟶.𝟹) 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚂𝙼-𝟻)
𝚂𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚜: 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 [𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳], 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕, 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 [𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳]
𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗.
Tumblr media
Taglist (FULL): @catladythoughts @pinky0328 @coldluminarykoala @lemonlimecrystal-blog @san-it-is-i-guess @kunasthiast @nonamevenus @ecliipzed @jup1tersuccubus @gojodickbig @totallygyomeiswife @gremlinartstudio @tojislittleprincesss @jaybirdluvr73 @emyyy007 @b3bybunny @unofficialsapphire @thequeenofcurses @canecomplex @sukubusss @satosugu4-ever @theonlyhonoredone @eravariety @kaged-kitty @stargirl-mayaa @jinxiewritings @startwithrecords @nikki-demi @samoankpoper21 @grinnwolph @mizuwki @cisseadven @meandmyhomieshateshibuya @gradmacoco @lolololololhanma @theuclid @uma0777
844 notes · View notes
quarterlifekitty · 23 days ago
Text
Promethean
fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2 here’s part 1
Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol
Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.
At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.
The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.
When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.
You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.
“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.
“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.
“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”
——
Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?
You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.
“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.
“What would you know about what I want?”
“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”
Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.
“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”
Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.
Soap is his best friend.
“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”
Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.
“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”
He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.
“What’s the rest of your day look like?”
“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.
“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.
“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.
“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”
He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.
The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.
He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.
He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.
It doesn’t.
907 notes · View notes
kikiutau · 10 days ago
Text
RYOMEN SUKUNA: How to Get With Your Boss 8 Days Before New Years
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
CEO!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader Synopsis You're a chronic overtimer at work and a chronic virgin at home. On night of Christmas Eve, you have the lucky unfortunate pleasure of stumbling across a huge fight between your hot boss and his wife. Safe to say their relationship is over. But as fate (and your ever-reliable right hand man, the elevator) would have it, being in the right place at the right time might just lead to a New Year’s resolution you've been yearning for for years: the overdue expiration of your v-card. Genre Modern au, Office Romance, 18+, Smut, Fluff  Content/TW fem! reader, cheating, unprotected sex, voyeurism, things going up into cooch that shouldn’t be in the coochie in the first place, virgin! reader, thigh fucking, food play, rough sex, slight misogyny, degradation, dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation, ooc sukuna because this is an au without trauma (we I stan), spanking, unprotected sex, manhandling, cum eating, squirting, pissing, age gap Word Count 17.4k
Author’s Note: Happy New Years guys! Consider this my gift to you all for the new year! I hope you all enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it Divider by @/cafekitsune
Tumblr media
Tuesday, December 24
Christmas Eve
Fuck. Rubbing your swollen eyes, you glared at the circled number on the calendar. A few more days until New Years. And more specifically, 8 more grueling days of a lonely holiday season. A tired groan escaped past your lips. 
Feeling the growing tension in your back from being hunched over for hours on end, you leaned back on your chair hoping to release the pressure. Disregarding the mountain of paperwork on your desk, you haphazardly moved them aside to reach for your cell phone. 
“Ah!” The universe seemingly out to get you, the screen brightness blinds you for a moment. 
You heard a slight thud, signaling to you that the phone you dropped ended up on the floor. Still recovering from eye assault, you don’t grab it right away. Through slight squints, you glanced down at your fallen device. 
12:01 
Wednesday, December 25
Christmas Day 
You let out a quiet “yay.” If there’s one date you were looking forward to, it would be this one. It’s a well-deserved and long awaited break for a distressed and tired office worker like yourself. Working overtime frequently is starting to take a toll on your mental and physical well being— if it hasn't already. 
Acknowledging the time, you tell yourself that now would be a good time to start packing up and heading back home. You quickly put on your coat and grabbed your bag, leaving the heaps of files, binders, and loose papers on the desk as a fuck you, capitalism! You don’t get paid enough to care anyways. On a more important note, your sweet, soft bed is beckoning for your arrival.  
Right as you headed out of the building, you dug through your bag looking for your phone. “Where,” you dug further, “is it?!” 
A frown graced your lips. ‘I… left it in the office, didn’t I?’ you thought to yourself. ‘What an idiot.’
Begrudgingly, you picked your foot off from the ground, and started to slowly make your way back to the Gates of Hell, disguised as those intimidating, tall, glass doors you see more often than the doors of your own home. 
As you walk through the lobby, only the clicks of your heels against the cold marble floors can be heard. The lack of human presence sends a small shiver down your spine. During normal working hours, the lobby is usually filled with the sounds of similarly disgruntled employees complaining to their fellow co-workers. 
But now, the only thing gracing the place was you. Even the janitors and security are nowhere to be seen. Well, it makes sense considering the time. You were the anomaly here. Only a masochist gets off of work at 12AM when everyone else who works the normal 9 to 5 gets off of work at 4:59. 
Well no, you wouldn’t say you're a masochist. You don’t get off to pain. But you were a perfectionist. And you had a tendency to care almost too much about how your co-workers perceived you. So if it meant getting off of work late, you didn’t mind as long as you can get all your tasks done in a timely manner. Besides, you didn’t have anyone to go home to. So why not just stay at work where the heaps of paperwork can accompany you instead.
All your coworkers were sane enough to head home the moment the clock strikes at 5. They’ll stay an hour more if they have to. And for those working overtime, the latest they’ll stay is 8. But, they’ll all shuffle out by the time the sun fully sets, leaving you all alone at your desk. 
Honestly, the only other workaholic besides you would be your boss. Your mind lingers at the thought of his muscular frame, pink slicked back hair, tattoos, and the very apparent large bulge—
Hold on. Stop. He’s your boss. 
And isn’t he a married man? 
You chastise yourself. 
Once you stepped in, your hand instinctively reached for the button with a clear “48” inscribed besides it. Standing in the well-lit elevator, you waited for the doors to close. 
One second passes. Two seconds passed. Then three seconds. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi. Seven— 
“Oh come on!” you rolled your eyes. Tapping your foot, you reached for the button to close the doors and started spamming it like you would when it comes to pressing the attack button on Genshin. “If you don’t close this second, then I’m going to pluck out your buttons and cut your walls with my box cutter!”
The moment that threat left your mouth, the elevator doors closed with a small ding. Ah, even the elevator knew better than to incur the wrath of a stressed out office worker. 
You watched the small panel in front of you change numbers in chronological order second by second. 
1
2
3
4
Is it just you or is the elevator slower than usual? 
After what seems to be a long time, you arrived on your floor. Coming to a full stop almost aggressively, the elevator shakes momentarily giving you a heart attack before opening its doors in a slow manner.  
Clenching onto your chest, you make your way out of the wretched box of metal, holding a middle finger up towards the horrid man made product. 
The elevator closes its doors with a ding as if it were responding to your obscene hand gesture. 
You quickly made your way to your usual area, bending down on your knees to grab your missing phone. 
A new message!
You opened the message app to see who texted you. 
Friend
Heyyyyyy girlie! So 😏There’s this guy at my workplace. 
Single. And he doesn’t look half bad. 
And you’re single and mingling. 
Sooooo I was wonderinggggg
If I could set you guys up?  
Y/N
.-.
Uhhhhhh
You typed out “sure.” Although, you contemplated hitting Send. Too distracted with your thoughts, you failed to hear the ding in the background as well as the angry clicks of heels marching past you. 
“YOU ASSHOLE!” 
The sudden scream caused you to flinch. What the hell? 
A male voice interjected. “If I’m such an asshole, sign the goddamn papers.” 
Oh, you recognized that voice. And you hoped you were fucking wrong. 
Curiosity got the best of you and from your position, you slowly peaked up from underneath your desk, to check if you're wrong. God you hope you were. 
Nope. Congratulations! You win a front row seat to watch this couple dispute— against your own will!
At the other end of the room stood your boss in all his glory; his hair was disheveled and the buttons of his dress shirt were unraveled, revealing a window of opportunity for you to see his well defined pecs. Furrowed brows and an annoyed frown decorated his tattooed face. In front of him, there was a woman dressed in a bodycon type dress, hugging all the right curves, revealing her hourglass figure. Although her face was turned away, you could probably guess that her expression was one far from happiness. 
Ok, now you are sure the universe has a personal vendetta against you. First the phone, then the elevator, now this. Not wanting to get caught by any means, you quietly stayed underneath your desk, waiting for the opportunity to leave once the bickering couple finishes their quarreling. 
“You know… None of this would happen if you would just…” the woman’s voice cracked. “Sukuna… You’re so cold-hearted. This wasn’t the marriage I wanted for us.” 
Sukuna scoffed, starting to feel an onset of a headache. He glared at her momentarily, taking a second to decide whether to rip her to shreds with his words or to let the matter go gracefully. If anything, he wanted to be home right this second—not arguing with his wife at his workplace in the middle of the night. Yet, he decided on the former. He spat out, “At least I didn’t cheat.” 
“At least he loves me! With him, I know what love feels like. Unlike you!” his wife exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger towards the man. 
One of Sukuna’s eyebrows quirks up. “Loves you?” He takes a few steps towards the woman. “He has a wife and two children, Silvia. If he loves you, then why hasn’t he left them for you.” 
The tears Silvia tried to hold in the whole time finally spilled down her cheeks. She couldn’t give him an answer because deep down, she knew her husband’s words were true. His words washed over her like someone threw a bucket of ice water to her head. 
Looking up at her husband, she crashed her lips into his. She could no longer bear the ice cold feeling that had enveloped her heart. But at the very least, she could comfort herself with the warm body of the man she currently abhors. 
Unexpectedly, Sukuna did not push her away. Their lips remained interlaced as he pushed her down onto one of the desks, leaving scattered papers on the ground. Your heart sobs for the poor unsuspecting owner of that very desk. 
Sukuna impatiently tore her dress off as she clumsily worked on the rest of the buttons of his dress shirt. A needy whine escaped her throat when he ripped her panties off. “T-those were expensive,” she mumbled. 
In response, he spun her around onto her stomach, forcefully bending her top-half down until she felt her pebbled nipples against the cold, hard desk. He spanked her left ass cheek, chuckling at the slight bounce. Another smack. And another. 
Much to Silvia’s displeasure, she couldn’t hold in her unabashed moans. Even if Sukuna’s indifference towards her made him absolutely terrible at daily affection, she had to admit: This man is a literal sex God. Not once has she left the bed unsatisfied. 
Silvia wiggled her hips, trying to get away from her husband’s abusive onslaught. In which Sukuna responded with a spank on her bare pussy. “You know,” he bent down to her ear, “I should really punish you for being such a disobedient little slut, whoring yourself out like that.” 
Seems like the man relishes in degrading both his employees and his wife.
“Please,” she begged. She pushed her ass towards Sukuna’s bulge, tempting him to punish him even more by rubbing against him. 
Now that’s a real masochist right there. Your thoughts come to a full pause when you hear Silvia moan, “Oooh FUCK!”
Sukuna, not one to respond well to taunts, pinches her clit. Happy with her reaction, he gives her slight reprieve, massaging the sensitive area with his thumb. She jerked at the sensation, her body trembling against his. 
A laugh echoes within the room. “I can’t believe you’re getting off on this,” Sukuna mocks. He toys with the wetness on his fingers, tapping his pointer and thumb together, watching the way the wet strands stretch every time he pulls them apart. “This is supposed to be a punishment. And you still find pleasure in this?” 
Spank. 
“I must have trained you really well, haven’t I? I hope Mr. Nakamura enjoyed my cum dump while it lasted.” Silvia whimpered in response. 
Spank. 
Sukuna’s eyes glared at her reddened ass. “Speak.” 
“Y-yes!” 
Sukuna let out a little hum, circling around Silvia’s poor, abused clit. Tears—whether it was because of pleasure or pain—dripped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I–” 
“But even your lover wasn’t enough for you, huh? Here you are, desperate running back to me like a cockdrunk slut,” the tattooed man mocked. “This is a little pathetic, even for you.” 
No longer able to deal with the edging, Silvia disregarded his insults, letting go of whatever pride she had left as she pleaded her husband for more. She turned head back towards Sukuna, panting for just something, looking at him with glazed eyes. 
Sukuna huffed, stopping his ministrations. He examined her face; her skin was unblemished with hues of blush red, decorating the area around her eyes, nose, and lips. Her lips were slightly swollen as were her eyes. But even then, it did not take away from her apparent beauty. 
He married her two years ago. Not out of love but rather out of obligation. In spite of his appearance adorned with numerous tattoos, Sukuna was quite conservative when it came to relationships. The old fucks at those board meetings suggested—no, pressured— the then, 29 year old man to get married as fast as possible. Tired of their constant prodding and pushing, he ended up marrying one of the girls that was introduced by one of the board members he was on good terms with: Silvia. 
Sukuna was a person who held great belief in his morals. He found cheaters lousy. And he found those who criticized cheaters but then proceeded to cheat even lousier. If there’s one thing he hates in the world, it’s hypocrites. And he was not about to become one himself. Perhaps it was due to such morals that he remained a faithful husband even if he never felt an ounce of love for this woman— any woman. 
Lust, sure. But love? Love was something so vulnerable, so unpredictable. He lived with Silvia and slept beside her for all those years. Not once did Sukuna’s heart waver in the slightest. At most, he could admit that the relationship was comfortable. Silvia was a good wife during their time together. So, at the very least, he treated their marriage as a duty and gave her the utmost respect. 
Right. Respect. That’s why he was so angry at his wife who he did not love. She disrespected him. Thinking about it, Sukuna could feel his suppressed rage beginning to simmer. And looking at his Silvia’s horny expression, it gave him enough of a will not to submit to her pleas so easily. 
Reaching towards the pocket of his suit jacket, he pulls out his beloved Caran d'Ache Léman fountain pen. He pressed the cool metal towards her slit, causing her to flinch. Slowly, he inserts the rounded point of the pen into her wet cavern. 
“Sukuna!” Silvia pouted, unhappy with her current position. Licking his lips, Sukuna rolled his eyes at his wife. 
Leaning down towards her, he smirked. “I’m so sorry sweetheart,” he sarcastically replied. “I thought you wanted more. Was I mistaken?” Feeling his wounded pride swell with glee, he continued moving the pen in and out in slow motions. 
“I– This wasn’t what I meant!” she stammered. 
Spank. 
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. “Manners.” 
Silvia groaned, burying her face into her arms. Picking her head back up for one last ditch effort, she pleaded once more. “Please please plea– FUCK! Pleaseeee, can you fuck me? I- I can’t get off.” 
Sukuna shrugged, a playful smirk gracing his lips once more. “I don’t need to fuck you for you to get off. You sure found other alternatives during our time apart, didn’t you? I’m certain Mr. Nakamura’s cock was smaller than this pen. And yet you went back to him, again and again. So…” 
Heart pounding, Silvia shook her head needlessly. She wanted to refute him but with how overstimulated she felt, she could not even muster a single coherent thought. Sukuna continued on with his ministrations, moving the pen further into her in a downwards motion. “I’m pretty sure you can get off to this.” 
Feeling the slight nudge of the pen towards her g-spot, Silvia unwillingly slips into pure bliss. Blood rushed to her head as she was brought to pure ecstasy. Sukuna sounded out her moans, purely focusing on her pussy fluttering witlessly around his fountain pen. Consumed by momentary pettiness, he slipped his pen out of her, refusing to fuck her through her orgasm. However, he waited for her to catch her breath.
Silvia went limp after the shockwaves of her orgasm had subsided. Using the strength that’s left in her arms, she shakily turned around towards her husband. There, he stood with the same indifferent expression she despised. She reached out to him, hoping to continue. Much to her dismay, he stopped her, holding onto her wrists. Before she could even say anything, he placed the christened pen into her hands. 
“My lawyer will come to your residency tomorrow. Make sure to sign the divorce papers by then,” he stated, showing his soon to be ex-wife the same poker face he’d show to his company’s board members. 
Almost robotically, Sukuna made his way towards the elevators. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to wait for it to come as it was already on the floor. If this elevator was sentient, then at this moment, it recognized that this man was the very man that could scrap it from its existence in just one word. Feeling scared—if it could even feel—the elevator quickly opened and shut its door at an unbeatable speed to prevent incurring Sukuna’s wrath. 
A few minutes later, Silvia followed suit. Finally alone, you crawled out from your hiding spot. Your brain short circuited for a while, slowly trying to wrap your head around what happened. When it did…
“What the fuck.” Your mouth fell wide open. “What the fuck.” You put both your hands on your head. “What the fuck.” You paced around in a circle. “What the fuck.” Your head whipped towards the desk the two lovers were previously copulating on. Underneath, you see the sheets of paper haphazardly decorating the floor. In the corner of your eye, you could also spot the lacy black panties Sukuna’s wife left on top of said papers. 
Oh. Hell. No. 
So that WASN’T a hallucination? An audible groan echoed throughout the office floor. At this point, there was no doubt about it: The universe wants to murder you. 
You gave a silent apology towards the elevator who was trying to save your sanity earlier. Unfortunately, you were too stubborn to recognize its efforts. Looking back down at the device that has caused you misfortune, you swiped upwards reaching the home screen. After experiencing your boss' intimate moments with his wife against your will, you suddenly lost the will to continue living, muchless go on a double date. In fact, you don’t feel like going anywhere at all with the amount of bad luck you have at the moment. 
Y/N
.-.
Uhhhhhh
Sureygyciwbcuibiwcleboi
Friend 
Great! 
I confirmed with the guy. 
Is the 26th okay for you? 
Well, crap. Did you incur the wrath of some God out there? You must have mistakenly sent the text message while you were struggling to crawl to the dark ends of your desk. Giving up on your current situation, you decided to submit to whatever fate has decided for you. You quickly sent a “ok” before moving on to clean up the stacks of documents on your desk since you were already back where you started. 
Finishing up, you proceeded to put on your coat, preparing to leave. In the corner of your eye, however, you were once again reminded of the intimate scene. Your chest stirred with an uncomfortable feeling. If the employees came back to work days later with papers on the ground AND a pair of black panties, these nosy folks will surely start talking. 
Feeling a sense of pity for the about-to-be-divorced man, you feel your humanity telling you to help Sukuna out. As stern as he was, he was a fair and competent employer who treated his employees well (as long as you didn't get on his bad side). Besides, everyone has days where life simply falls to shit. Sukuna’s just happens to be on Christmas Day (and so is yours). 
Grumbling, you open one of the pull-out cabinets below your desk to grab tissues and disposable chopsticks. You then slowly made your way towards the hazard zone. Quickly, you clipped the panties with the chopsticks, throwing it in a nearby garbage bin. As for the papers, you quickly shuffled it into one pile, not caring if they were out of order. For the unfortunate pieces of papers that were tainted with what’s possibly Silvia’s bodily fluids, you threw those out. You assumed your coworkers would much rather face the problem of a few pieces of their paperwork being missing than have to touch the ones christened by cum. 
Not all heroes come with capes. In this case, it came in the form of a traumatized overtimer. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you made your way towards the elevator. Somehow, the elevator seemed to be working as normal the second time you used it. Making your way towards the exit, you let out a breath of relief. That relief of yours ended when a familiar voice called out to you. 
Slowly, you turned your head to the source. Ah, it’s the devil’s work at play. Mustering whatever strength you had left, you quickly graced the man with your customer service smile. “Hello, Mr. Ryomen. Heading home?” 
He responded with a curt nod. “It’s late. I’m surprised you’re still here. I didn’t see you by your desk.” From how close he was to you, you could have sworn he narrowed his eyes for about a millisecond. 
The hairs on your neck became stick soldiers; your smile faltered slightly. Running through your mind for excuses, you finally landed on: “I was occupied in the printer room.” You pray to your ancestors that he didn't catch on to your lie. 
You assumed your excuse was enough, considering he no longer lingered on the topic. You’re caught off by what he says next though. 
“Since it’s so late, let me give you a ride home.” 
Your customer service smile dropped as you’re now fumbling to make another excuse. Feeling flustered you blurt out, “Oh no, it’s okay. Thank you so much for the offer though. I actually live nearby so I’ll be–” 
Rrrrrrrumble
“You’re going to walk home in this weather?” A teasing smile appears on Sukuna’s face. 
Feeling defeated, you let out a nervous chuckle. “I suppose not.” 
In Sukuna’s expensive-looking car that probably cost more than your yearly salary, you curse whatever deity is out there for your current position. It was probably 2AM right now, yet why the fuck was there still traffic at this time in the middle of the highway. 
“It seems a lot of people are trying to head back to their families for Christmas,” Sukuna blankly stated out of nowhere. You slightly jumped at his sudden comment, not expecting him to speak after sitting in awkward silence for a good 20 minutes. 
You hummed in agreement. You also assumed that the sudden snowstorm had something to do with the onslaught of traffic. You kept that thought to yourself though, not wanting to entrench yourself into further awkward small talk with Sukuna. Bringing your attention back to the traffic, you wondered if the insistent begging in your head would get the cars to move any quicker. Unfortunately for you, it was to no avail. 
Glancing to the window on your right, you tried to distract yourself with the scenery of cityscapes. Your plan was foiled when you noticed Sukuna’s reflection in the mirror. Pretending to look outside, your gaze centered on the enticing image. Sukuna seemed to have fixed his unkempt hair, keeping it in the usual slicked back hairstyle he usually adorned. The same went for his white dress shirt that he seemed to have buttoned up, leaving the top two unbuttoned. 
You focused on his hands. One on the steering wheel, impatiently tapping against the leather; the other hand on the gear shift. You wondered how it would feel if he fingered you–
Stop. 
You could feel your ears burn with embarrassment. Save your horny thoughts when you’re not a foot away from him. ‘Not now,’ you tell yourself. Trying to move on from your thoughts, your eyes focused on something else. You slowly made your way up to his face where now you could see him looking right at you. You jerked your head downwards, avoiding looking at his reflection staring right into your skull. 
Wait, does that mean…? You slowly cranked your head towards the direction where the man was sitting, only to be faced with him looking straight at you. 
“Who would have thought I’d be spending Christmas with my favorite employee?” he drawled, emphasizing the favorite.  
You got caught off guard. Luckily, you recovered fairly quickly. “Who would have thought I’d be spending Christmas with my favorite boss?” you quipped back. 
He barked out a laugh, “I’m your only boss, princess.” .
Chuckling, you shrugged. “Still stands.”  
“You got any plans for Christmas? You must be looking forward to spending time with your family and friends,” he comments. 
You swallowed the imaginary ball in your throat. “Ah, well. They’re all overseas. So, I probably won’t be seeing them this year. The plane tickets are horrendously expensive this time of year.” 
“At least you have that boyfriend of yours from the sales department.” 
“Pardon?” 
A bewildered look occupies your face. What boyfriend? You’ve been alive for a good 23 years and you have yet to even hold hands with a boy. At this point, you’ve gotten your PhD degree in singleness. Flustered, you shook your head. “I-uh. I don’t have a boyfriend.” 
He smirked. “Good to know.” 
Did he just play you? 
“Mr. Ryomen!” His deep laughter fills the small space. When it subsided, he gave you a cocky grin.
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop teasing you.” He reached one of his hands towards your face, brushing a strand of stray hair behind your ears. Before you could say anything, that hand is right back on the gear shift. 
Thankfully, the traffic in front started to clear up. During the drive, you probably learned more about him than you did working 4 years at his company when you started as an intern at 19 years old. For one, he has a younger brother. He also has a hobby of tinkering with motorcycles. And if you didn’t already assume earlier on in your career, he clearly had a fondness for fucking with people (and fucking his wife, but you keep that to yourself). Thankfully, the apprehension you felt earlier was completely dispelled by the casual conversation he started.
Before you knew it, he reached your apartment complex. You promptly thanked him for the car ride, making your way out of the vehicle. “Have a Merry Christmas, y/n.” 
“You as well,” you responded. Your tongue immediately sour when you remembered the fact that Sukuna was getting divorced during the holidays (not that he knew that you knew). Oh crap. Why did you have to say that? It felt as embarrassing as telling the movie theater employees “you too” when they tell you to enjoy the movie. Luckily, Sukuna didn’t seem phased, as if he didn’t serve his wife divorce papers on Christmas day. He simply smiled, nodding in your direction before driving off. 
Thursday, December 26
You sipped on your cocktail, staring endlessly at the shiny chandelier hoping it would cure your boredom. A part of you also hoped the shiny thing would fall right on top of your date.  
“So I’m looking for someone who would…” Blah blah blah. 
You drowned out the sounds of your date’s rambling. This self-absorbed piece of shit. All he would talk about was himself. His next favorite topic being the type of girls who turned him on and the type of girls who turned him off. Then all you could remember was his ramblings about how “women nowadays are not the same anymore…” Something along the lines of that. Fed up, you have half a mind to just straight up tell him to date his own mother rather than trying to find a poor girl to be his in-home maid and incubator. You held your tongue, knowing nothing good would occur from initiating a fight with this guy. 
My god. Where did your friend even find this narcissistic bastard? You start to question HER taste in men. Purely based on appearance, the blabbermouth looks decent. But even his face card couldn’t fix his trash personality. It’s like covering yourself with perfume when you haven’t taken a shower in a month. 
You pray to your ancestors, hoping for someone to get you out of this blind date. It was as if your prayers were answered when a familiar pink-haired man walked out of the restaurant’s private rooms with another man who you could only infer to be a client. You didn’t know if it was your ancestors working some magic or if it was simply pure coincidence. If it was the latter, then it seemed too improbable to be mere chance.  
You didn’t even need to yell out a “help” when Sukuna excuses himself from his current conversation, making his way towards you. You jutted out lips, pouting almost dramatically. You only hope Sukuna could decipher the desperate energy leaking out of your eyes. 
“Ms. y/l/n, did you forget you had an appointment with me?” Sukuna looked down at his watch. “In fact, you’re late.” 
“Wait, you can’t just–” 
A menacing glare shuts up the good-for-nothing. Taking this opportunity, you quickly grab your belongings, interlocking your arm with Sukuna’s, not even giving your date a chance to say goodbye. 
Once again, you're in Sukuna’s vehicle once again. Although this time it’s red instead of the usual black you noted to yourself. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend,” Sukuna teasingly comments.
You grumbled, “He isn’t my boyfriend. My friend just happened to set us up on a blind date. Well, you know how it went. Anyways, how did you know I needed help getting out of there?” 
“You were never good at hiding your emotions,” Sukuna answered. “Not now. And certainly not then.”
“Really? I didn’t even get slightly better?” you prodded. “Am I really that obvious?”
“Yes.” To him. Although he wasn’t one to linger on office rumors, he couldn’t help but notice the comments in regards to you. People said you were a vivacious one; that’s one rumor he could agree with. Some said that you were dating someone from the sales department; he thought that was true, until you debunked it yesterday. Many of your co-workers called you hardworking; he agrees. Quite frankly, you had a clean reputation. Almost too clean. So clean and perfect, in fact, he almost forgot about the 19-year-old, hot-headed intern who possessed an ego so inflated it rivaled a 10-foot pole. 
Flashback
Sukuna (28) grumbled, impatiently pressing on the elevator buttons. Fuck, one day he’s going to completely replace this box of metal with a more efficient elevator. Just as the elevator doors were about to close… 
“Wait! Bro! Can you hold the elevator doors for me?!”  
Although he certainly looks like the type to close the elevator doors on someone, he’s not completely heartless. Besides, he wondered which employee was brave enough to casually call him “bro.” Quickly, Sukuna clicked the button to open the doors. 
Unfortunately for the desperate girl on the other side, she watched in distress as the space between the two doors got closer and closer together until… closed. 
“Fuck!” She kicked the elevator doors. “You nincompoop!” 
Just as the insult left her mouth, the elevator immediately opened its door, leaving a wide- mouth country girl staring right back at red-piercing eyes.
‘Oh. A new face.’ Sukuna thought. 
The girl gulped, deciding whether or not she should ditch the elevators for the flight of stairs instead. Essentially, would she rather face humiliation or kill herself walking up 40 flights of stairs before her interview. Suddenly she remembered the wise words her mother told her before she walked through the TSA gates: You must walk through life as if you have the balls of a cis-gendered male tiger. 
Whatever that meant. So, the elevator it was! 
She stepped into the confined space shared by the other remaining person staring bullets into her head. Cold sweat adorned her back as the elevator doors closed. 
“So who’s a nincompoop?” 
‘Ah fuck,’ the girl cursed in her head. ‘I should’ve just taken the stairs T^T’ She tried to calm herself down by chanting her mom’s advice. ‘Balls of a tiger. Ball of a tiger.’
Finally getting a proper look at the guy, she almost pees her pants. This guy was definitely over 6ft. 6’3? 6’4? 6’5? At her measly 5’0 ft, she couldn’t tell for sure. And the man had very noticeable tattoos adorning both his face and his arms from what she could tell. Did she bump into a gangster? 
No matter. It’s not like she hasn’t come across gangsters in her high school days. In fact, she once chastised a gang member at her school once so confronting them wasn’t an issue— except this time it was a grown adult man two heads taller than her. 
The girl huffed, puffing her chest out, trying to be intimidating (although unknowingly having the opposite effect). “You are,” she plainly stated. 
“Hn?” Sukuna clicked his tongue. Rolling his eyes he flicked the girl’s forehead with his finger, “Are you a child? When I was in grade school, not even the kids would call me that.”
'Yeah, I'd doubt they'd say anything to you with that face of yours,' she thinks to herself, silently. Thankfully. Unfortunately, it would turn out to be her only wise decision from this point on.
Sukuna scanned the girl, starting from her broken heels, to her dress shirt that’s improperly buttoned, finally landing onto a youthful complexion staring right back at him. The audacity of this girl. “Are you lost, brat? The middle school is four blocks away,” he mocked. 
Okay, now that was pushing it. “Rude!”  Looking deeply offended, she pointed a finger towards the man. “Fuckwad! Asshat! Jackass!” Sukuna had never heard so much profanity come out of a girl’s mouth before. Even she had him admitting to himself that her colorful sailor vocabulary probably rivaled his. 
It was hilarious. 
He lets out a loud cackle. Judging by the furrow of the girl’s eyebrows deepening, he probably pissed her off even further. 
Ding 
“Hmph.” Sukuna watched as the girl marched out. Although very quickly, she snapped her head back at Sukuna. “You! I’m going to report you!” 
Sukuna's coy smile widened even further. “Go ahead.” What was HR going to do? Fire him? 
(P.S. At this point in time, Sukuna's small company didn't even have a human resources department. He WAS HR. )
His answer made the girl more frustrated, as she audibly groaned. “Whatever,” she muttered. 
Hearing another ding, Sukuna quickly asked, “What’s your name?” 
The girl’s head perked up. Her annoyed face contorts to one of apprehension. The elevators are close to closing before she yells out–
“y/n”
Flashback Ends 
Sukuna couldn’t contain his grin when remembering the first time they met. “What’s so funny?” you questioned, almost creeped out by his sudden grin. 
“It’s a secret,” he says. Not wanting to pry any further, you let him be. Much to your dismay, he brought you to your apartment complex fairly quickly, meaning your conversation was cut short once again. You could feel your heart throb. Wait… did you feel disappointed? Sad? You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact feeling. You admitted that it was unfortunate these conversations will come to an end though; the two of you will probably go back to the monotonous role of employer and employee who only spoke on matters regarding work. 
Your walk up to your apartment was melancholy at the very least. You thought about how your relationship with Sukuna changed over the four years you knew him for. Your meeting didn’t start off the greatest with the man relentlessly teasing you. Even if you were the one who caused it to occur in the first place. That’s a fault you stubbornly won’t admit to though. 
And then when you got hired as an intern, your spirit was undeniably fucked when you found out the man who teased you in the elevator was the CEO and founder of Ryomen Tech Corporations. 
Thankfully for you, Sukuna wasn’t one to hold deeply held grudges. Although unfortunately for you, the teasing did not stop at all. He’d make those annoying comments to irk you and you’d banter back, unable to hide your apparent dislike for the man. Things like hierarchy was definitely less structured back then when the company only contained a small team of 13 people. 
When you interviewed, the company was still a new tech startup at the time. Before that, Ryomen Sukuna worked as a freelance coder and web developer (and hacker)  after graduating from a small university for a few years. Impressively, despite having nothing to his name, he was able to push his way through. Ryomen Tech Corp. became a million dollar company in a span of a year. Year by year, more investors came shuffling in, and profits continued to rise exponentially. As of right now, Sukuna's net worth is in the billions, an achievement unheard of in four years. 
Stepping back and surveying Sukuna's extraordinary achievements within four years, you couldn't help but acknowledge his competence and admire his success. Despite his teasing nature, you discovered he possessed a charismatic charm when interacting with investors, clients, and other industry leaders.
That Sukuna felt detached, almost unrecognizable. It was hard to believe that the man who mercilessly teased you was the same individual responsible for such remarkable feats. You felt a tinge of selfishness, clinging to the hope that things would remain unchanged, that your relationship could continue as before.
However, his marriage brought an abrupt halt to this illusion. Visits to your desk for lunchtime teasing dwindled, leaving you to eat alone, bereft of the familiar rumble of his cackles and the cacophony of laughter from your colleagues. The teasing text messages, once a constant, gradually decreased, until his name sank to the bottom of your contact list. Soon, he faded from your life as subtly as he had entered it.
You didn't reach out to him, either. Perhaps it was your tendency to put yourself on a moral high ground, or perhaps it was your wounded ego, but you convinced yourself that pursuing a relationship—even a platonic one—with a married man was inappropriate.
Fumbling through your bag, you searched for your keys. Where. Is. It. You dug through your bag more haphazardly, your heart starting to race. Why. Does. This. Keep. Happening. Your search for your keys came to a small pause however when you noticed your phone rang. 
The caller ID on the phone's glowing screen displayed a name you had almost forgotten, buried beneath a haze of forgotten memories. It was as if a sudden gust of wind had swept away the fog, bringing that name back into sharp focus.
Nincompoop
Without giving much thought, you quickly picked up the phone. “Hello?” you answered. 
The familiar voice responds back, one that was deep and reminded you of velvety red wine, one that immediately quells your beating anxiety. “I think you forgot something, princess.” Just from his voice, you can tell he probably has his signature annoying smirk on the other end of his call. Quiet from disbelief, you didn’t answer. "Hello?" he prompted gently, concern lacing his voice. 
Silence.  
Geez. Did you forget how to speak? 
Panicked, you moved from your spot, only to unknowingly stub your toe at one of the trashbags by your neighbor’s bag. “Ow!” you exclaimed. Was there steel in that thing? You let out a pained groan, bending down to pat the outer layers of your shoe, hopefully aiding with the pain. Side note: It did not help. 
Hearing that you were present on the other end, Sukuna mumbled something on his end. You were unable to catch what he said though. By the time the pain subsided, you noticed that the call ended. 
Wait. What did Sukuna say, again? 
​​A sudden jingle broke through your thoughts. You looked up to see Sukuna standing by the elevator. He held up a set of keys, dangling them in front of him. "Found these in my car," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Seems someone forgot something."
Your jaw dropped. So, that's what he meant. He found your keys.
Sukuna bent down to eye level with you, slowly examining you from head to toe. “You okay?” he asks. 
“Uh huh. I just stubbed my toe. I’m alright now.” Your face is burning with shame. “Anyways, you didn’t have to come all the way up here. Thank you though.” You gave him a slight nod, taking your keys from his hand. Grabbing your arm, he helped you up. Feeling the heat spreading to your ears, you thanked him once again. ‘If there’s a merciful God out there, please bury me six feet underground right now,’ you pleaded in your head. 
"No problem," he said. Sukuna paused, his gaze lingering on you. "Besides," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "Wouldn't want you wandering around aimlessly, now would I?"
You felt your cheeks burn even hotter. "Very funny," you muttered, trying to regain your composure. You turned towards him asking, "Would you like some water or snacks? As, uh, thank you." 
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. Knowing you were the type of person who didn't like to owe favors, he accepted. Besides, a part of him was curious about what your living space was like. They say someone's home is a reflection of one's personality. Wait... When did he become so nosy?
You led him into your apartment, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. This was definitely not how you expected your evening to unfold. You were about to offer him a seat by the living room couch when you noticed his gaze on the framed photographs on the wall. 
He pointed to one photo. “Your parents?” 
“Yep,” you grinned. “I look like them, don’t I? “ 
His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the shape of your eyes, noses, and lips. “You do. Compliments to your mother,” he breathed, a genuine admiration in his voice. 
“T-thanks,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze. “She always said I looked more like my dad.”
Sukuna chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the air. "I beg to differ," he said, his eyes twinkling. He gestured towards the couch. “Mind if I sit down? My feet are killing me.” You quickly offered him a seat, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. In the meantime, you went into the kitchen to prepare his snacks. 
The familiar hum of domesticity filled the small apartment as you carefully gathered your items on the counter. You busied yourself with arranging the fruit platter on the kitchen counter — apples, grapes, strawberries, and cherries. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept replaying Sukuna's words. “Compliments to your mother.”
What did that even mean? Was he just being polite? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out, looking relaxed. He was running a hand through his hair, a contemplative expression on his face. Sukuna leaned back against the cushions, gazing at the ceiling. “You know,” he began, his voice a low rumble, “I was thinking... about relationships.”
You, startled by his sudden observation, almost choked on your saliva. “You were?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Seeing your parents' picture got me thinking. How do people... how do they know when they've found the right person?”
You set down your knife, intrigued. “I don't think there's a single answer to that question.”
Sukuna nodded in agreement. “Maybe not. But what do you think?”
You pondered this for a moment, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. "Well I can’t speak for others but for me, I value respect and communication. I think when it comes to finding that person, maybe a little bit of luck comes into play."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow. "Luck?"
"Luck and timing," you continued, "meeting the right person at the right time and place. There was a book I read in high school where two of the characters were refugees in war and they ended up falling in love with each other. But by the end of the book, I couldn’t help but wonder: Were they truly in love, or did they simply convince themselves they were in love due to the shared circumstances? If there was never a war in the first place, would they fall in love all over again if they were to meet each other under different circumstances?”
You continued to ramble. “You’ve read the hunger games right? Or at least familiar with the movies?” Sukuna nodded, motioning you to continue. “I’m going to use Katniss and Peta as an example. If they weren't forced to fight for their lives in the arena, would they still have fallen for each other? Would their love story have blossomed under different circumstances? Or was it the shared trauma, the constant fear of death, that forged their bond?"
Sukuna watched you intently, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. He thought of his own marriage, a gilded cage built on societal expectations and a desperate need to conform. He paused his thoughts, focusing on the girl in front of him, a rare vulnerability creeping into his eyes. "But you know sometimes…the most profound connections can be born from the most unexpected circumstances,” he confesses quietly. 
“Oh yeah by the way. I got divorced today,” he says out of nowhere, in the most nonchalant manner. 
The cup of water you were sipping on suddenly clattered in the sink. You ended up choking because the water went down the wrong pipe. “What?!” 
“My wife was unhappy with our marriage. She cheated on me. I told her to sign the divorce papers yesterday. And today she signed it,” Sukuna answered as a matter of fact. 
You knew. 
You were there when he had that argument with Silvia, unbeknownst to him. But hearing him tell you is a whole different story. “I’m sorry that happened,” you automatically responded, after recovering from your near death experience. 
He let out a laugh. “Don’t be,” he shrugged, almost too nonchalant for your comfort. 
You carefully laid the fruit platter and an unopened bottle of wine on the living room coffee table. You then positioned yourself beside Sukuna, maintaining a slight distance. He reached for a plump grape, popping it into his mouth with a satisfying crunch.
"Since I'm letting you in on a secret," Sukuna began, his gaze fixed on the remaining grapes, "let me know one of yours. Like how the breakup with your boyfriend went."
"How many times do I have to tell you I don't have a boyfriend?" you retorted, a touch of exasperation in your voice.
Sukuna smirked. "Currently you don't. But surely you had a lousy boyfriend back in college?” 
You shook your head.
“High school?” 
You shook your head once more. 
He raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief in his expression. "Never?"
"Nope," you confirmed, feeling a strange sense of pride in your solitary existence. Then you remembered the endless ramblings of your mother and aunties about finding a boyfriend, reverting that feeling of pride back to a familiar dejection. 
Feeling a sudden wave of defensiveness you start to ramble making excuses why you weren’t dating—why you have never dated. “I’ve never been sought after romantically in my teenage years. And even when my friends set me up on blind dates, it would never work out. At some point I just assumed I wasn't built out for romantic relationships so… ” 
You practically word-vomited on the spot, your mind unable to keep up with your mouth. From your sexual history (or rather lack of), to the countless of failed blind date stories, to that one boy who rejected you in highschool… all of it came spilling out. 
The more you rambled, the more you wanted to dig yourself into a hole. But even then, you continued to talk, almost against your will as you had a poor habit of avoiding awkward situations by rambling… only to make it more awkward for yourself by the end. 
“A-anyways,” your whole ramble, rant, whatever the fuck that was, finally coming to an end. 
While you were mentally hitting yourself in the head, Sukuna, on the other hand, seemed to revel at your current mental state, the corner of his mouth raised.
“So you’ve never orgasmed before, huh,” he drawled, his smile almost menacing. Ah, fuck. Was he going to now tease you relentlessly with that newfound information? 
“So what?” you exclaimed, your arms and legs now crossed. “ It’s not my fault my body is literally built for failure in both departments of romantic love and self love.” 
Sukuna had an unreadable expression on his face. 
Immediately feeling some sort of regret, you tried to remedy the situation. “O-oh. It’s uhh not a big deal though. I could always go out and find a one night stand to help me with my needs. I-I mean…” Crap. You couldn’t even look the man in the face. 
While your face was turned away from him, you heard the pop of the bottle cork. Curious, you watched as Sukuna poured himself a pretty tall glass of wine. He took a long sip, the red liquid swirling in the glass.
Silence. 
He set the glass down on the coffee table, the sound echoing unnaturally in the sudden silence. You finally dared to look him in the eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes were narrowed, a predatory glint in their depths.
“You know,” he said, his voice stretched out in a long drawl, “If you would like, I can offer myself as a demonstration.” 
Your breath hitched. "What?"
Sukuna, leaning closer, his breath fanning your face. “Do I have to repeat myself?” 
Almost as if your body had a mind of its own, you found your lips millimeters away from his. Just as your lips were about to touch, you pulled away. With a soft thud, you fell back onto the couch, your hand covering the lower half of your face. “I-uh. I don’t know how to…” you paused for a moment before whispering, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” 
Sukuna's gaze, intense and predatory, swept over you. “Well, then,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “it seems like I have my work cut out for me.” He caresses your hand with his thumb before leaning down, his whole body on top of you. 
Bringing his lips to your hands, he teasingly licks it to get a slight reaction out of you. He then gently nips the skin, his teeth grazing your knuckles. Making out with the back of your hand, a rush of warmth flushed throughout your body as you imagined the same sensation on your lips instead. 
You jumped a bit when you felt his tongue once more. Slowly, he traced his tongue towards your fingers, then entwining his hands with yours, pulling it away from your face. Sukuna’s gaze then flickered towards you, watching the rheumatic motions of your chest rising and falling. 
He pulls your hand towards his chest.
“Can I keep going?” 
Your heart pounded in your ears, a quick, rhythmic beat that drowned out the howls of the wind outside. Breathlessly you answer, “Please.”
Sukuna cursed, his warm hands on you almost immediately. His lips parts, closing the space between you two. 
Sweet. With a tinge of bitterness from the red wine. You tell yourself how you could get drunk on his taste; he tastes so much better than the cocktail you were sipping earlier on your blind date.   
Trying to keep up with him, you hesitantly imitate the kisses he gave your hand earlier. You feel a faint smile on his lips which brings flutters to your stomach. Feeling slightly more confidence, you keep going. 
Just as you clench the back of his shirt, Sukuna pulls away from you. “Smart girl,” he whispered. “Are you up for another challenge?” 
Not waiting to hear for your response, Sukuna reaches for the fruit platter, specifically breaking off the stem of one of the cherries. He places it on his tongue before coming back to meet your lips once again. However this time, you find his tongue meeting with yours. 
You involuntarily moan, feeling almost overwhelmed at the moment. Pressed up against him, you could feel his erection pressed against his thighs. 
Even though the two of you were already pressed up against each other, Sukuna somehow manages to deepen the kiss between you two, teasing you with his tongue. You squirm at the sensation.
Feeling Sukuna push the cherry stem towards your tongue, you push back the stem with a competitive vigor. Thus, starting the battle of dominance between the two of you. 
Surprisingly, Sukuna is the first to part from you, sitting straight up on his knees. He stuck his tongue out showing you the knotted cherry stem sitting right on his palate. 
Fuck. 
He places the knotted stem on the coffee table before turning towards you and smirking. “A souvenir for remembrance,” he teases. Sukuna turns his attention back towards you, giving an onslaught of kisses down your neck. In the meanwhile, he hikes your skirt down, leaving you only with a pair of panties left to cover whatever dignity you had left.
“She’s soaked,” he whispers, talking to himself as if you weren’t in the room. Almost by instinct you closed your legs, only for him to spread it apart for his perverted eyes to see. 
“I want to see you touch yourself,” he bluntly stated with absolutely no shame at all. “It’s the least you can do after I gave you such an intricate lesson.” 
You turn immediately red at the memory. 
He pecks your flushed cheeks, before moving to peck your nose. “You’ve done such a good job for me so far,” he praised. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now~” 
“W-Who said I was?” you stubbornly stuttered out loud, trying to hide your nervousness (although failing majorly). 
Sukuna laughed before helping you out of your shirt. And before you know it, your bra is off within seconds, leaving you bare for him to witness. The only piece of clothing you have left is the panties he oh so graciously left on, although you doubt it did anything to hide how naked you felt. 
Sukuna bites his lips, the corners of his mouth raised ever so slightly. ‘She’s going to be the end of me,’ he thinks, watching you as you hesitantly reach for your tender breasts, squeezing your pebbled nipples. 
He snaps the band of your panties, then slowly—almost teasingly—raking it down your thighs. Sukuna licks his lips, staring at your wet, leaking pussy. He almost swears it called his name. 
Moving one hand down, you reach for your clit, softly circling around it. You focused on looking at your hand, almost physically unable to look up at Sukuna, worried your heart would stop if you were to see his face. 
You continue to pleasure yourself, although unable to reach your high. Much to your displeasure, you never had the experience of reaching an orgasm ever since finding out about the wonders of womanhood at the age of 16. Sure you’d watch videos and read tons of articles on how to reach an orgasm, but never once have it worked for you. At some point, you accepted the fact that you were physically incapable of orgasming. 
Under the careful watch of Sukuna’s eyes, he seemed to have noticed you have reached a plateau. “Here, let me help you,” he murmured. Taking your hands in his, he guides you, pressing your fingers down firmer on your sensitive bundle of nerves. 
At some point, your hands ended up clenching his wrists, as he directly played with your clit instead. Suddenly feeling a new sensation, you panic. “Haa! Ngh! W-wait. I feel like I’m going to–” 
He keeps going. And in that moment, you lose yourself. Completely. Your body spasmed underneath his watchful gaze, like a predator watching its prey. And underneath that primal gaze was one of sadistic pleasure, just waiting to strike.
Sukuna bites the insides of his mouth, trying to hold himself back from listening to the voices in his head, telling him to pound you down on the couch at this very moment. He clenches his hands into a fight fist, drawing blood. 
Million of thoughts surges through his head. It’s like a tangled mess of desires and reason, pulling him in every direction at once. He wants you. He can’t deny that. 
However, as much as he yearns for you, he reminds himself of the facts. You’re not here for that. He wasn’t here to be your lover, or to play the part of some fairy-tale prince in the background of your life. No. In fact, he’s far from that. If anything, he’s like a starving wolf just waiting to devour you at any moment. 
Sukuna was doing you a favor. That’s all it was. He’s not a romantic interest. It was simply a one night stand— just minus the fucking. And wouldn’t it be so much better if you remember your first time with the person you choose to love rather than an impulsive decision to fuck around with your boss one night. Yeah. He nods to himself internally. Nothing more, nothing less. 
Sukuna silently waits as you come down from your high. Labored breathing fills the room. 
“How is it?” he asked smugly. 
You take a few more gulps of air before answering. “Good.” 
“Just good?” 
You pouted at his teasing. “What? Do you want a rating?” 
Sukuna laughed in response. “I wasn’t expecting that but now that you mention it, I’m curious.” 
Smiling, you rolled your eyes. “4.9 out of 5.” 
Sukuna’s eyebrows raised. “4.9? Where did my missing 0.1 go?” 
From your position, you playfully kicked the side of your abdomen. “It’s for your ego. Someone needs to keep it in check.” 
Sukuna chuckled darkly, clearly entertained by your response. “Is that so?” he mused, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re the one keeping it in check, then.”
You raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-wary. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 
He doesn’t answer. His only response was playfully taking a bite on the same leg that kicked him. Feeling the strong urge to respond back to his teasing, you take your other free leg to nudge the prominent bulge in between his legs. 
A low groan escapes his lips. “Fuck. You’re going to end up murdering me in cold blood one day.” 
To your surprise, he slides himself off the couch and stands up. 
“Wait!” You grabbed his wrist before he could walk away from you. “But what about you?” You reach for his erection, only for him to stop you. 
“Don’t worry about me, princess.”
Your eyes filled with worry. “But I want you to feel good too.” 
You watched as Sukuna cursed under his breath. He pushes you back down on the couch, joining you once more. “Safe word is red. Red to stop, yellow to slow down, got it?” 
You nod. Unbuckling his belt, unzipping the zippers of his trousers, he finally gives himself slight relief when he takes out his cock. 
8 inches in all its glory. Hard. Flushed red, with a bead of pre-cum peaking through at the tip. 
In your head, you do a mental backflip. Never mind. You take it back. You don’t think that’ll fit anyways. 
“Close your legs together,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. Although he says that, he’s the one closing the gap between your legs, proceeding to place them on his shoulders. Speechless, you watched as he brought his cock closer and closer to you until he’s placing it between your lips, coating his appendage with your cum. 
“Haah... Oh!” You're surprised when he drags his cock over your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. You could have sworn you got even wetter than you already were. 
Once wet, Sukuna takes his time, slowly sliding his cock between the plush flesh of your thighs. He groans, his head falling back as you watch his Adam's apple throb. 
Sukuna starts out slow. Apart from your labored breathing, you could hear the wet faps everytime he moves his hips, gliding his cock cover your wet cunt. A sob of pleasure washes over you when his cock brushes against your clit. You came, your entire body convulsing with overstimulation. 
By this time, Sukuna had quickened his pace, the couch sliding across the floor with each drag of his hips. With his cock pumping in and out, he gave your thighs the same hue of red as the flush on your cheeks. 
“I’m going to–” With a loud groan, Sukuna came. Thick, hot strands of his cum splattered on your stomach, with a few drops reaching your breasts as well. He continues to half-heartedly thrust until his high faded. Panting heavily, eyelids fluttering, he takes his sweet time memorizing the image of your body rightfully decorated with his seeds. If he were to be hit with a truck right now, he would die a happy man. 
Snapping back to reality, Sukuna gently places your legs down, turning towards the coffee table to grab a few tissues. When he glanced back towards you, his eyes widened. 
You were sat up—prettily so, he might add—licking his cum off your fingers. At the sight, Sukuna Jr. became hard again, ready for round two. Sensing his stare, you looked right back at him, a smirk adorning your lips. Maintaining eye contact, you gathered the rest of his cum on your fingers, licking it once more. 
'What a damn minx,' the man thought, unable to take his eyes off you. His eyes darkened, wanting to revert back to his primal urges to just take you for himself. 
Fuck him. 
Sukuna smashes his lips against yours, tasting the remnants of himself. But no matter, because all he could focus on at the moment was you.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to the bathroom. 
Once inside, he places you on the vanity. “Let’s not go any further he tells you,” he insisted, nudging his forehead against yours. You cocked your head to the side, confused. “If we go any further, I don’t think I can control myself.” 
‘Then don’t,’ you thought. 
Sukuna was really hanging on his last thread here. Thankfully for him, you just nodded, deciding to not push the matter any further. 
Friday, December 27th 
Cold. 
It was cold. 
The warmth of the blankets is the only thing that keeps the biting chill of the morning from nipping at your cheeks and nose. You snuggle deeper into them, wishing you could just stay there forever. As you shift, you feel the soft, steady pressure of his arm around you. You awaken, heart quickening, not used to another human presence in your bed. 
Noticing who the person was, you immediately relaxed. Although that came to a quick stop, once you noticed the shirtless torso staring right back at you. Glancing down, you realized you were naked too. 
Fully awake now, you race through your memories of last night. Right after your… uhh… Sukuna’s assistance in helping you further understand your womanhood, he brought you to the bathroom. You two then made out on the bathroom vanity. Then, the two of you showered. He was shampooing your hair and then… blank. 
You couldn’t remember anything after that. 
Crap. 
You looked at the man beside you, his face impossibly serene. His hair is adorably messy, strands falling across his forehead, and his lips are slightly parted as soft breaths escape him. The sight makes your heart swell, bringing a grin to your face. 
Carefully, you reach out, feeling mischievous, you gently booped his nose. The contrast between your cold touch and his warmth stirs him. He scrunches his nose, his lashes fluttering as he slowly blinks awake. His sleepy eyes meet yours, and lazily blinks for a few seconds. He then wordlessly nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing in your scent. 
A soft, muffled groan escapes him as his nose brushes against your skin. “Cold,” he mutters groggily, his voice a deep rumble that makes you giggle. Despite his complaint, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter, effectively trapping you against his warm, bare chest.
“Good morning,” you greeted, running your fingers through his messy hair.
“Mornin’,” he yawns back. 
For a moment, the two of you linger in the warmth of the blankets, both wordlessly agreeing that you guys would much rather stay in your current positions for the rest of the day. But the sound of your alarm buzzing from the nightstand breaks the spell. He groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Nope. I refuse. Let’s just call in sick.”
You laugh, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “We can’t do that, Mr. CEO. Come on, get up.” He pouts in response and you can’t help but inwardly squeal at how much he seems to resemble a sulky cat. 
Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, and the two of you begin to prepare for the rest of the day. After a quick shower together and a few shared glances in the mirror, you both finish getting ready. 
The two of you step out into the crisp morning air, making your way to his car as frost glimmers like delicate lace on the windows under the pale light. He starts the engine, the heater sputtering to life and gradually filling the cabin with warmth as you settle into the passenger seat.
The drive to work is quiet and peaceful, with soft music playing on the radio. You steal a few glances at him, watching the way his hands grip the wheel and the faint concentration in his expression. It’s then you notice he’s wearing the same suit as yesterday—a subtle reminder that he hadn’t planned to stay the night. 
The car rolls to a stop in front of the towering company building, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the soft light of the winter morning. He parks in his usual reserved spot and turns to you with a warm smile. “Alright, don’t miss me too much,” he teases.
You roll your eyes playfully, getting out of his car. “Trust me, I won’t.” 
Inside, the hum of the office quickly pulls you into the rhythm of the workday. Emails flood your inbox, and tasks pile up as you try to focus, but it’s no use. Your thoughts keep drifting back to him—his voice, his annoying smirk, the way his hair was still slightly messed up this morning, and his cock.
Stop. 
You find yourself staring blankly at your computer screen, rereading the same line of text over and over. 
“Mr. Ryomen! How can I…” 
Your ears perk up at his name, and before you can stop yourself, your head turns toward the source of the voice. From your desk, you catch a glimpse of him on the other side of the room. He’s speaking with one of the department heads, his expression serious yet calm as he listens. Occasionally, he nods or gestures slightly with his hand. But it’s the subtle quirks you notice—the way his lips twitch as if suppressing a smirk, or how he adjusts his cufflinks absentmindedly. 
For a brief moment, he glances in your direction. You immediately snap your eyes back to your screen, your cheeks burning, praying he didn’t catch you staring.
But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You keep your eyes glued to your monitor, trying to make yourself look busy, but it’s no use. You can feel him before you even see him.
“Daydreaming already?” his voice rumbles softly, a teasing edge to his tone.
Your head snaps up to see him standing beside your desk, hands casually tucked into his pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“N-No, of course not,” you stammer, straightening in your chair. “Just...focused.”
“Focused?” he echoes, raising a brow as his eyes flick to your screen. “On an empty email draft?”
You glance at the monitor and cringe inwardly. “I was...thinking about how to word it,” you say quickly, trying to salvage your pride.
He chuckles, leaning in slightly so only you can hear. “If you’re this distracted, maybe I should’ve kept you in the car a little longer.”
Your face grows impossibly hotter, and you glare up at him. “Aren’t you busy?” You shoo him away with your hand.
“Plenty,” he says smoothly, his grin widening. “But I couldn’t resist checking on my favorite employee.” Before you can respond, he straightens and takes a step back. “Carry on, then.” With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you flustered and unable to focus for the rest of the day.
Usually, you would take the overtime—but not today. Today, the idea of staying longer just feels unbearable. You left the minute the clock struck 5. You practically race to the elevator, your pulse quickening with every step. The doors close behind you with a soft chime, and as the elevator descends, you feel a small sense of relief wash over you.
By the way, on your walk home, you stopped by an adult store. From there, you quickly bought a dildo (you tried to find one a similar length and girth as you know who) and scurried your way back home. 
Saturday, December 28th 
You came into work on a Saturday, mainly because there’s a pile of leftover paperwork that you didn’t manage to finish before you left yesterday. And you blamed Sukuna for it. 
The quiet hum of the building is quite a stark contrast to the bustling energy it usually has during the weekdays. You manage to finish fairly quickly with no distractions, particularly with the absence of a certain pink haired tattooed man. By the time you’re done, you stretch your arms above your head, the tension in your shoulders easing as you stand and walk around to shake off the stiffness from sitting too long. You glance at the clock—it’s still early enough for lunch.
As you head to pack up your things, you’re startled by the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up to see Sukuna, eyes scanning the room with mild curiosity.
His eyes land on you, widening. “You’re here on a Saturday?” he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Yeah, just wrapping up some stuff,” you answer, grabbing your bag and shrugging. “Had a little bit left from yesterday.”
Sukuna raises an eyebrow, walking over to you. “Well, since you're done with your ‘extra work,’” he says, “how about joining me for lunch in my office? I could use the company.”
You hesitate for a second. You're not exactly opposed to the idea, but considering the guy who’s asking you out to lunch is the very person driving your head mad, it's not exactly the easiest invitation to accept.
But then again, it’s just lunch, right? 
You offer a half-smile, trying to mask the lingering uncertainty. “Alright, I’ll join you,” you say, trying to sound more casual than you feel.
Sukuna smiles back at you, the corners of his lips twitching upward in that signature smirk. He walks towards the elevator with you following suite.The two of you step into the elevator, the soft chime signaling its ascent. For a moment, the only sound is the soft hum of the machinery. 
Suddenly, the elevator jerks, causing you to stumble slightly. Sukuna grabs you by the shoulders, steadying you as the lights start to flicker. You glance over at Sukuna, who doesn't seem too alarmed, but the furrow of his brow tells you he’s noticed it too.
"Did it just stop?" you ask, voice laced with surprise.
"Seems like it." His voice is calm, though you can detect a hint of frustration in his usually smooth tone.
You both glance at the display, watching as the floor numbers refuse to change. 
Fuck you, elevator. 
Sukuna pulls out his phone, his fingers swiftly tapping away on the screen. “I’ll text maintenance,” his tone is clipped. You watch as his fingers fly over the keys, typing a quick message. He pauses for a moment, then taps send.
Luckily for him, maintenance responded to him immediately. Sukuna scans the text message for a few seconds before raising his head to look at you. “Apparently, the whole building is out of power. It'll take about half an hour before the power starts running again.”
You blink, trying to process the information. "The whole building?" you echo, glancing at the elevator walls as if expecting the entire structure to come crashing down.
He gives a nod, his gaze narrowing as if he’s already over the inconvenience. “Yep. Looks like we're stuck here for a while.” He pauses, checking the time on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket. Sukuna’s lips twitch into a half-smirk as he takes a step closer, the space between you now noticeably smaller. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, then.”
“Well, you're not exactly the worst company to be stuck with, though,” you admit. You find yourself thinking about that one time you were stuck with Alan from finance and Jeffrey from HR. Alan, bless his soul, stayed silent in a corner the whole fifteen minutes, trembling out of fear. On the other hand, Jeffrey was consistently trying to flirt with you the entire time, probably breaking a few HR protocols here and there. The irony. 
You scoff thinking about it.  
Sukuna raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking over to you. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You got a problem with being stuck in small spaces or something?”
You blink, caught off guard by the question. “Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that," you quickly reply, trying to brush it off. “Just... thinking about some interesting elevator experiences I’ve had.”
He smirks, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, clearly not buying your quick explanation. “Hmm, sure. Sounds like you’ve got some interesting stories,” he muses. 
Closing the space between the two of you, he traps you against the walls of the elevator, leaving you no room to move. “Speaking of interesting stories, I heard from a few little birdies you left early yesterday.”
You stiffen, taken off guard by the sudden proximity. His smirk deepens as he leans in just a bit closer, his breath warm against your cheek. You can feel the pulse of his presence more than ever now, the space between you thick with tension.
“Did I?” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe I just had things to do.”
Sukuna raises an eyebrow, his gaze intense as he watches you carefully. “Is that so?” His tone is teasing but holds a hint of something more dangerous. He doesn’t move back, instead, his hand gently rests against the railings behind you, trapping you in place. “I find it funny how Ms. Overtimer decided to leave at 5 o’clock sharp. She couldn't have been trying to avoid someone, was she?” 
What was this? An interrogation? 
You swallow, unable to escape the directness of his gaze. “N-no. Like I said, I had stuff to do.” 
His smirk deepened. “And what would that be?”
You flushed, thinking back on your nightly activities yesterday. The voices from the “How To Give A Good Blow Job” video you were watching yesterday echoed through your head. 
What’s important with a blow job is to use lots of saliva to make it really wet. 
When you approach a penis, it’s very important to…
Go all the way, but don’t just lick the tip.
You don’t just lick it like a lollipop or like an ice cream cone, you really put it all in your mouth.
The next thing you thought of was the porn videos you watched right after that, as you tried to imitate the actions of the porn star on the dildo you just bought. 
As you snap back to reality, you’re faced with Sukuna’s arrogant looking face staring right back at you. “I’ll tell you what I did,” he rasps into your ear. “The moment I got back home, I fucked my fists, pretending it was you.” 
His hands reach underneath your shirt from the back, gliding over the hooks of your bra. “I thought of your drenched little pussy, bouncing on my cock, clenching around me, cumming again and again, just begging for more.” 
Your pussy throbs from his words. Before you know it, you wrap your arms around him, kissing him like your life depended on it. 
At some point you parted for air, gazing up at him through hooded eyes. Playing with his trousers, you bend towards his ear, whispering, “Do you know what I did? I bought myself a dildo, the size of your cock.” His hold around you tightens. Teasingly, you bite his ear, causing him to groan. “Do you know how hard I worked yesterday? Trying to suck that piece of plastic because I wanted to surprise you with a good time.” 
You can’t even get another word out when Sukuna’s mouth is back on yours, trying to devour you until there’s nothing left of you but a damn puddle. Just when he’s about to strip you of your shirt, the elevator door gracefully opens as if it wasn’t stuck just moments ago. 
It didn’t even take a second before Sukuna pulled you into his arms, bringing you straight into his office. 
Safe to say, the two of you enjoyed each other for lunch. 
Sunday, December 29
You’re sitting on your couch, eyes glazed over as you skim through another round of work emails, when one subject line catches your attention: "New York Business Trip". Curious, you open it, expecting some mundane update or meeting schedule. 
Surprisingly, your company is sending you and a few others to New York for a new client. The email outlines everything: flight details, accommodations, and a packed itinerary filled with meetings. You blink a few times, rereading the email to make sure you’re not imagining things.
Ah. 
Well, you should probably get to packing. 
Monday, December 30 
The flight to New York was mundane at best. Luckily no crying babies were on the flight. 
By the time you got there, it was already nighttime. Tired and exhausted, you and your colleagues made your way to the hotel.
You quickly fell asleep, your mind rather occupied with work.
Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna had also flown into New York a day prior for his own business engagements. 
Tuesday, December 31
The client offers you a sincere handshake as they prepare to leave. After stepping out, a collective sigh of relief fills the room.
As the door clicks shut, one of your coworkers slouches dramatically in their chair, their voice heavy with complaint. "Ugh, I’m so tired. Do we really have to work so close to the new year?"
Another coworker, ever the optimist, chuckles and leans back in their chair. "At least we're in New York for the new year. I mean, that's gotta be pretty exciting, right?"
A third coworker, always the one with the best ideas, perks up with enthusiasm. "Why don’t we just celebrate tonight? Let’s hit a nice restaurant and make the most of being in New York. Who’s in?"
The idea quickly gains traction, and with a few enthusiastic nods, plans are made. The team agrees to head out together to celebrate.
You all decided on a restaurant by the pier, away from midtown which tended to be one of the busiest parts of the city during the new year. Drinks are poured, toasts are made, and the atmosphere quickly shifts from business to pure enjoyment. The laughter grows louder as more wine flows, the chatter about work now replaced with stories of company drama. 
“Jeffrey from HR got fired!” 
“No way! What happened?” 
“I heard he got caught trying to buy drinks with the company card!” 
“I heard he got caught harassing some of the female staff!”
“I heard…” 
“Classic Jeffrey,” a coworker mutters, shaking their head. “The guy was a walking HR violation. Good riddance.”
You laugh. “Funny, considering he’s HR himself.” 
Another coworker, slightly tipsy, raises their glass. “To Jeffrey’s unemployment!” Everyone laughs, raising their glasses in solidarity.
The conversation shifts as someone notices a familiar pink-haired man, sitting at a table behind you with a relaxed, almost amused expression.
"Wait, isn't that…?" One of the coworkers squints, their eyes widening. "Mr. Ryomen?!"
The room falls quiet for a split second, and all eyes turn toward him. There's a brief, stunned silence as the reality sets in. Sukuna raises a brow, sensing the sudden shift in attention. "No need to act so formal, people," he says, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "This is a celebration, not a board meeting. Dinner’s on me." At his words, the initial awkwardness disperses, a collective cheer erupting around the table. 
Sukuna's gaze drifts toward you, and for a moment, the chatter around the table fades into the background. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. The night continues, the laughter growing louder as more wine flows and the atmosphere grows more relaxed. Your coworkers are clearly enjoying themselves, their inhibitions loosening as they drink and joke.
Somewhere between the third round of drinks and the jokes about Jeffrey, Sukuna leans closer to you, his voice low as he addresses you. "You wanna head out?"
You glance around, noticing that the group is becoming more boisterous, a little too drunk for comfort. You nod, slipping out of your seat quietly, unnoticed in the haze of celebration.
The two of you walk side by side, his hand slipping into yours as he gently tucks it into the warm pocket of his winter jacket. Ending up by the pier where you can enjoy New York City’s cityscape alone, the two of you stood by the railing, the city lights shimmering in the distance, reflecting off the water below. The noise of the city feels distant here, leaving just the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the occasional hum of passing traffic. 
Sukuna stands close, his presence comforting and intense, but there’s an unspoken ease between you now. He watches you looking at the skyline, almost entranced by the city lights. He's entranced by the way your gaze softens, the flicker of wonder in your eyes, as if the city itself holds a kind of magic just for you.
His gaze drifts down to your face, the way the soft glow of the lights highlights your features, and for a moment, he forgets the world around him.
“You like it here?” he asks, his voice low, almost lost in the wind.
You nod, taking in the sight of the towering buildings, the lights that make the city pulse with life. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice quiet, but content.
Sukuna smiles, a rare, almost gentle curve of his lips.“You know,” he begins, his voice a bit more serious now. 
You turn to face him. “I like you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, the sincerity in his eyes undeniable. “More than I should.” 
Your face shifts to one of surprise before a smile spreads across your lips. “And?” you ask, a teasing edge to your voice as you try to coax more out of him.
Sukuna’s expression falters for a moment, a look of surprise crossing his features, as he didn’t expect for you to react so playfully, before his usual confidence returns. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming yet somehow comforting, his gaze never leaving yours. 
“And…” he murmurs, taking a breath as if steadying himself for something more. He tilts his head slightly, a small, almost playful glint in his eyes now. “This confession has been long overdue.” 
You cock your head to the side. “And?” 
Sukuna rolls his eyes. Cradling your face with both his hands, he pulls you gently toward him, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes soften, the playful glint still present, but there’s a sincerity now that you can’t ignore.
“Goddammit, woman,” he mutters, although there’s no trace of frustration or anger behind it. “And,” he starts again, voice quieter this time, “I want you.”
He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
“I need you.” 
Another tender kiss, this time to your nose, as if savoring the simple closeness of you.
“I love you.”
‘I've loved you ever since your stubborn ass appeared in that elevator,’ he thought. 
Without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s slow, deliberate, and full of all the things he hadn’t been able to say. The world around you seems to fade as the moment stretches on, leaving only the two of you, suspended in the quiet of the city night.
Tumblr media
Sukuna closes his bedroom door behind you with a soft click, turning towards you once he locks the door. Crossing the short distance between the door and you with a few, casual strides, he helps you out of your coat, carelessly leaving it on the floor once off. Not even moments later, the rest of your clothes soon followed the fate of the discarded coat. 
Your body was bare before Sukuna’s affectionate gaze; vulnerable and utterly exposed to his wandering eyes. “You’re soaked, darling,” his silken cadence carrying a hint of teasing. It’s no surprise though, considering he fingered you in his car on the way to his New York City penthouse. 
“Put it in already,” you whine, tired of waiting. In fact, you’ve waited for exactly a week ever since the man took your first kiss and first orgasm. 
He bites your thighs in response. “Don’t you know patience is a virtue?” 
“Funny, I don’t remember signing up to be virtuous,” you muttered. 
He laughs in return. “Well, it’s not too late to start, but you might want to hurry.” You rolled your eyes. This man is insufferable. You start self-pitying yourself for falling for this man’s charms. 
Sukuna begins to pepper kisses down your thighs, before reaching the wet mess between your legs. He gives your cute cunny a wet, sloppy french kiss, causing you to squirm. Sukuna’s hands, however, found themselves wrapped around your thighs, preventing you from squirming away. 
Just when you’re about to reach your high, he parts from you, a frustrated whine permeates the air. He playfully tsks at you, shaking his head with a smirk. “What did I say about patience?” 
“I don’t want to hear that from you!” you exclaimed. “You’re impatient and far from virtuous, you pervert.”
“Me? Impatient? I held out for 4 years. Just when I could take you for myself, I cockblocked myself for a week.” He taps the head of his cock on your slit. “If anything, I’m the epitome of virtue.” 
“That’s bull– AH!” Your head smothered in the crook of his neck, legs trembling, your upper body falling limp to the dull aching pain in between your legs. 
On Sukuna’s end, he hisses from the way your virgin walls tighten around his length, his eyes half-lidded. “Shitt…” he curses breathily, the tightness of your pussy is almost too much for him. With the addictive way your walls wrap around his cock, he can’t help but yearn for more. He snaps out of his mind-fucked haze when he hears your quiet sniffles. 
Sukuna gently distracts you by petting your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he shushes you softly, the warmth of his hand grounding you. He licks away the tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eye. 
“You're an animal,” you croaked out. His fingers continue their gentle path through your hair, the action tender but possessive. 
“Shouldn’t that be obvious by now?” he murmured, silencing your whimpers with a deep kiss. One of his fists, curled so tightly, draws blood, as he holds back a debauched smile from appearing on his face. His breathing is labored, each exhale coming out in sharp bursts, but his eyes—those predatory, crimson eyes—remain locked on you with an intensity that borders on dangerous. The control he’s desperately clinging to is beginning to fray. That debauched smile of his still doesn’t quite break free, but if you were to open your eyes, you can see it lurking, threatening to spill over at any moment. 
Right. This is why he was so hesitant about claiming you as his. Because once he did, his possessiveness would consume him entirely, and no amount of restraint could keep him from acting on the wild urge to mark you, to own every inch of you. It’s why he had kept his distance, why he had let the silence stretch between you for so long. But now, with you so close, with your scent filling his senses, it was clear he had waited too long.
The struggle within him intensifies, the weight of his desires battling with the need to maintain decent dignity, but seeing the frown on your lips tugged on his fucked-up sense of morals. So, he patiently waits until your legs are no longer trembling. Kissing the palm of your hands, he asks, “Can I start moving now?” 
You respond with a breathless yes. As you wished, he started moving with carefully curated, slow thrusts. Your mind fills with confusion, unable to figure out the difference in the waves of twisted pain and pleasure you feel with each drag of his hips. 
Sukuna bends down to your tits, taking your pebbled nipple in his mouth, while teasing the other one with his hands. “So fucking tight,” he rasps, parting from your sensitive bud, leaving only but a string of saliva. 
God, this pussy will be the end of him. You will be the end of him.
‘Aren’t you the most prettiest thing,’ he thinks to himself.  
On the other hand, you feel too overwhelmed to even think. You pant through each tactful thrust of his, your hands clutching onto his bed sheets to ground yourself. Feeling the specific drag against your g-spot, you let yourself go without warning. 
Feeling your pussy clench wildly around his appendage, Sukuna curses, attempting to pull out but ultimately failing when your cunt just sucks him right back in. A choked up laugh bubbles from his throat, as he submits himself to pleasure, releasing his sperm right into your cavern. When he pulls out, he savors the scene of your stretched hole pulsing wildly yet clenching around nothing. 
Sukuna gives you a quick kiss on your lips, symbolizing a job well done, before walking towards his mini fridge to get beverages for the both of you. Disregarding your aching lower half, you sat up from your position, watching your lover—butt naked—tinkering with the items in the fridge. 
You stare into space when you think about how… soft he was with you. You almost wonder if somehow a ghost took over his body the few times he was intimate with you. You knew that man had a penchant for torturing his bed partners with pleasure. It was almost common knowledge with anyone who has interacted with anyone from Silvia’s high society circle. Or any one of the Sukuna’s past flings. You, neither in Silvia’s circle nor friends with any of Sukuna’s past flings, only relied on the words from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a… you get it. 
Anyways, his gentle demeanor with you almost deceptively deceives you of his true nature in bed. As delighted as you were by his ability to approach you with such surprising gentleness, you wanted to know the full extent of Sukuna’s… bedtime habits, so to speak. 
There’s a saying: Curiosity killed the cat. 
So don’t say this narrator didn’t warn you beforehand. 
You snap back from your thoughts when you realize Sukuna was heading back towards you with two bottles of water. He opens the cap for you before handing you one of the bottles, placing the edge of the bottom on your forehead, a gesture that takes you by surprise. The coolness of the bottle against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, sharply contrasting the lingering memory of his body heat pressed so close to yours.
You take the bottle, mumbling a quiet thank you, before taking a few sips. He hums in response, proceeding to take a drink from his bottle himself. You watched his Adam's apple bob with each swallow, the movement oddly captivating. 
“Don’t you think you’ve been holding back?” you stated as a matter of fact. 
He stops drinking, looking at you over the rim of his bottle, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing your words. The silence hangs between you, thick with anticipation. Slowly, he lowers the bottle, twisting the cap back on. His gaze never leaves yours, sharp and calculating, like he’s trying to read the real meaning behind your statement. 
“You’re way too eager to push me,” he murmurs, his lips licking off the excess moisture from the liquid. “You should be more worried about your wellbeing than the rumors floating around about my sexual preferences.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, putting a strand of hair behind your ears. 
You slap that hand away, pouting. “Well, if you’re not going to fuck me properly, I’ll just go find someone else to do it,” you state, preparing to stand from your spot and pretend to leave the room. 
Sukuna clenches the empty plastic bottle in his hand, the sound of crushed plastic permeating in the room. 
“Sit down.” He pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. 
The command is simple, but it cuts through the air with a force that makes your body freeze, your movements halting mid-step. There's no mistaking the tone in his voice—low, dangerous, and absolute. The room feels smaller now, the air in the room somehow thickens.
You hesitate, eyes flickering between his clenched fist and the way his gaze remains locked on you, as though daring you to challenge him. And despite yourself, you do end up sitting on his lap, his arms immediately cradling you against his body. He grazes his teeth on your shoulder, before actually biting, drawing blood. 
Startled, you flinch. However, with Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you, you couldn’t move nor could you run away. 
“You’re being such a brat,” he slurred, sounding drunk on your smell. He brings his other hand to caress your cheeks, “And here I thought you were my good little girl.”
Your heart quickens with excitement, the pulse in your chest pounding louder than ever. It’s a heady mix of anticipation and the raw thrill, the tension between you both so thick it’s almost suffocating. 
"Am I not being good enough for you?" you asked with a hint of mock innocence, feigning ignorance. You intwine your hands with his, nuzzle your face into the palm of his hands. 
“If you were, we wouldn’t be in this position,” he rasps, his self-control hanging by a thread just waiting to snap at the right moment. Your breath hitched slightly when he runs his large, calloused hands around your sides before stopping by your ass cheeks to fondle it. His voice was low and husky as he spoke, filled with a barely restrained lust. "You're being a dangerous tease right now, love.” 
“Dangerous?” you mused, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. “Why am I so dangerous?” You began to slowly grind your hips against his, gently rocking in his lap. 
Sukuna's hands clenched tightly on to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he felt your body move against him, creating a torturously good friction. “Precisely because of this,” a hint of a growl escaping from his lips.
You purposefully let out a loud unabashed moan as you continue to rub yourself against his tattooed thighs, hoping to crumble whatever’s left of his self-control. Pushing out his cum from earlier, you smear it all over his thighs. “Oops,” you gasped, faking your astonishment. “Sorry for making such a mess, Kuna. You know I couldn't help myself,” you taunted, unknowingly signing a sealed deal for the absolute annihilation of your body for the next morning come. 
Snap 
The very next second, you’re thrown onto the bed. You look behind you where his large and strong frame hovers over yours. You don’t even get a chance to savor the look on his face when he grabs you by the hair, pushing your head face down into the mattress. 
“That’s it. Shut it, you cock hungry slut.” 
Oh! So there’s that sadistic pervert of a man you know and love. 
Inserting his fingers into you, he starts targeting your g-spot, probing at that one spot on purpose! 
“That’s enough!” you protested, your legs shaking from quite possibly overstimulation.  
He doesn’t stop, pretending as if he didn’t hear. After a while of constant whining on your end and absolutely zero reactions on his, you attempt to crawl away from him, the sensation far too overstimulating for you. Your plan comes to a foul stop however, when he drags you back with a sharp pull by your legs. 
Your head snapped back to look at him, his eyes burning holes into your skull, looking absolutely furious with you. “I thought you wanted to fuck around and find out?” A hand comes down onto your ass cheek. “I’m giving you exactly what you asked for, so why are you running away?” 
Exactly, why are you running away? You give yourself a mental prayer, before deciding to absolutely stop using your head and to start thinking with your cunt instead. 
Sukuna presses his body up against yours, his weight almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Practically accepting the position you're in, you wholly welcome his cock sliding into your needy pussy. 
“You’re probably the best cock sleeve I’ve come across so far,” he groans. “Probably because of that slobbering pussy of yours.” He forces two fingers into your mouth, a mad grin spreading across his face when he feels your tongue swirl around his digits. “Right,” he thrusts even harder, causing you to gag on his fingers, “and I can't forget about that slutty mouth of yours.” 
Fuck. Was it just you or did his cock just get bigger while inside? 
You can’t even focus for long when he’s prone boning you into the mattress like the pleasure-drunk sadist he is. 
Each time he looks down at you with those glazed eyes.
Each time he pushes into you. 
Your mind goes blank from pleasure. 
The vulgar sounds of flesh on flesh echoes in your ear, filling up your head til you can’t think of anything else. 
Panic arises in you, snapping you out of your euphoric haze when you suddenly feel the need to pee out of nowhere. With a sudden surge of clarity, as if flipping a switch, you quickly inform Sukuna of your urgent matter. Or at least you try to— through the moans, pants, screams, and incoherent ramblings. 
Weirdly enough, even through all that, he surprisingly understands your intended message quite well. Although his response is not one you expect. 
 “Go ahead,” he sneers. “Squirt, cum, piss as many times as you want. The sheets are dirty enough already.” 
“...Ngnhh. It feels… strange… good. O-h fuck!” You squirt—or was it piss, anywho it didn’t matter what it was—for the nth time that night. You're unsure how many times you came so far. But then again, who’s keeping count? 
“Say you love me,” he mutters under his ragged breaths. 
You don’t seem to process his words though. Thoroughly fucked over, the only sounds you make are absolutely obscene. “Ngh oh~ hahhh!” 
“Louder,” he demands, his cock pummeling into your aching cunt. “Say you love me. Come on. Say it feels good.” 
“Haa! Hngh! Oh!” Only unabashed moans escapes your lips, your mind too fucked to comprehend his words. 
“Did I already fuck you dumb?” he mocked, clearly unimpressed with your lack of decorum. That’s a lie. He’s reveling in pure joy 
Suddenly, he changes his pace, going obnoxiously slow.
You writhed in response, whines escaping your mouth. “Nooo,” you protest, missing the fast pace already. 
“No?” Sukuna slowly pulls out until his tip is only part enveloped by your warmth. “Weren’t you begging me to slow down earlier though?” 
You don't even remember if you said that. In fact, you can't recall any of the jumbled words that came out of your mouth. And for all you knew, he could've just made it up.
Fucked as you were, you could only respond with a mumble of incoherent whines.
In response, he spanks you, your pussy clenching in response, making him grin. “Aww, does my pretty little slut like that?” He spanks you one more time, pleased when your walls clenched around him once again. 
Now that he’s got your attention, he repeats his orders to you once more. Through thick tears of pleasure dripping down your face, you whisper, “I love you, Kuna.” 
Fuck. 
Now, you were really going to be the death of him. 
Not giving you a second to breathe, he pulls you towards the edge of the bed. Then, almost effortlessly, he holds you in the full nelson position. You’re surprised when he walks you towards the glass windows of his bedroom. From there, you could see the whole entire city of New York, its lights shimmering like a sea of stars beneath you. The skyline stretches far and wide, towering buildings casting long shadows across the streets, their lights flickering in rhythm with the pulse of the city. But more than that, you see the fucked-up position you're in, reflected in the glass windows. 
“Since you enjoy the view so much…” Sukuna slowly positions his cock to your needy cunt. You squeal the moment he penetrates, his heavy and thick cock mercilessly berating your slutty walls. “Enjoy it while you can!” 
He brings you down on his cock, harder with every pound. Expectedly, your vulgar juices trickle down his 8 inch cock with every drag of your hips, creating a white ring around the base of his cock. 
“Kuna– I- ngh! Tooo-oooo d-deep! It’s too much!” 
Your words cause Sukuna to chuckle. Too much? Too much? Your pussy sure didn’t think so, welcoming each thrust with open arms, even greedy for more. It sucked in his cock so well, getting tighter every time he tried to pull out. 
You interrupt his trance when you start chanting his name over and over again, the only warning he has until you squirt all over his cock, his floor, and his penthouse windows. He follows suit, pulling out his cock, and allowing his cum to join the mess you have already made. 
Feeling light-headed, he thirsts for air, deciding that your lips was the only remedy he wanted—needed, at this moment. 
In the midst of your kiss, fireworks sprung into the night sky, painting the sky with their brilliant lights. The colorful splatter of light shines through the windows of Sukuna’s New York penthouse. 
Wednesday, January 1
Your attention was briefly drawn to them as they sparkled and crackled above, their explosions echoing through the silence of the night.
Sukuna, his breath still coming in warm pants, looked up at the fireworks only momentarily before returning his crimson eyes back towards you, intense and unwavering. 
He places you down, his hand gently cupping your jaw, turning your head to the side. As the fireworks painted the sky with fleeting brilliance, Sukuna's lips found yours again, grounding you in a moment that felt timeless—far more profound than the fleeting lights above.
Tumblr media
Author’s note: My apologies for any grammar mistakes in advance 🙇‍♀️ The fic ended up being longer than I expected, so I had to cut/summarize several scenes to ensure everything would fit on Tumblr.  Here are some of the plot points that I skimmed over (that were originally supposed to be stretched out into proper scenes): A shower scene y/n learning how to give a blow job using a sex toy Phone sex between the two the day y/n got the business trip email  And of course, the office sex scene
There’s a few more but that’s a secret for now haha. Anyways if any of you all are interested, please let me know
718 notes · View notes
stevesgother · 29 days ago
Text
Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader
WC - 4.3k
Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death
AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!
Much love ~ emma
Tumblr media
“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.
“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”
You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.
“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”
He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.
He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”
“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.
Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.
“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.
“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”
She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.
You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.
“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.
“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.
Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.
“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”
You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”
As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”
When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.
He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”
Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”
For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.
“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.
If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,
 “See you Monday,”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.
She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.
“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”
“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”
“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.
“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”
She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,
“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”
It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.
“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”
“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.
You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”
Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”
“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.
Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.
When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.
Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.
A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.
You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.
Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”
“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.
When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in.  A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.
You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.
“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”
She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.         
“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”
She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.
“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.
“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”
“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”
“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the
orchard.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.
When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”
“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”
“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”
“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.
He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.
He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?
It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.
You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.
You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”
“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”
“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.
“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.
He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.
“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”
Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.
You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.
Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.
You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.
“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”
“Do you have one?”
“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”
“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”
Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”
“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.
“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.
“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”
“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.
A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.
You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.
“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.
“Thanks baby, I see that,”
She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.
“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.
“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”
“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”
You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”
He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.
“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.
“Whichever is the most juicy!”
“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.
Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.
A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.
“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”
“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”
Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.
“Can I, mommy?”
“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”
She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.
“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.
She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.
“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”
“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.
She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.
“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”
You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.
“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.
He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”
You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”
“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”
The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.
He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.
“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.
“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”
You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”
“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”
One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.
You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”
“You do that a lot,”
“I feel it a lot.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.
Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.
You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.
There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.
Until tonight.
Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.
It was for someone new.
divider credit to @/strangergraphics
tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian
524 notes · View notes
inupibaldspot · 11 months ago
Text
Call me by my name
Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader
Note ₊˚⊹♡ : college au! Where nerd! Yuta goes out on his first party and manages to snag you, a popular girl who just needed someone to have ‘fun’ with.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The room is hot; surrounded by your friends continues to talk and laugh about how Yuuji, who was the star player on the football team slipped in the college cafeteria. But you weren’t interested in such talks— not right now, when you had an aching pain in between your legs.
Normally in such situations all you had to do was flutter your eye lashes at Choso, your ‘study partner’ who loooved doing all your assignments and at the same time, who had been trained to memorize every inch of your body inside and out but alas! He had to go on a study trip.
Your eyes wander amongst the crowd of people as you take a sip from your plastic cup, paying no heed to the burning sensation passing through your throat from the heavy drink— bingo! You spot your target.
A boy with dark haunting eyes who seemed to tilt from side to side, laughing nervously as he has both of his hands on a cup talking with two familiar figures— Maki, an all rounder athlete and cousins to one of your friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Inumaki Toge, a guy you shared a class with.
As soon as you see the two people leave the poor boy whose eyes was dropped to the floor instantly, probably nervous to make eye contact, you make your move.
“Hey there.”
Yuta raises his head to see you in-front of him, his breath hitched almost instantly as he takes on your appearance. You had a beautiful face with eyelashes which flutter in a flirting manner; but one thing he was trying to avoid looking at was the curve of your ass as the way you leaned down makes the swell of your breast very much visible.
He gulps. “Hey…”
“I’m y/n.” Yuta catches a whiff of your perfume laced with alcohol which makes him intoxicated, his pants suddenly becoming so tight.
He clears his throat. “I’m Okkotsu Yuta… Nice to meet you.”
“Say Okkotsu…” you lean in as you place a hand on his chest, leaning into his ears. “It’s kind of hot in here so how about we go somewhere else.”
As soon as he gives you a green light, you smile. Guys like him who was probably a virgin, who only saw naked woman through a screen were just so easy. You hold onto one of his wrist as you drag him to a washroom in the secluded part of the house.
You didn’t mind teaching Okkotsu the ways to touch and pleasure you; it was more fun that way in your opinion.
So tell me when the situation had turned and now it was you who was a moaning mess while Yuta had you in the palm of his hands.
“Nghhh— Ah…ugnn…” You let out another moan as your legs start to shake. Yuta grips on to one of your legs and brings the other one over his shoulders; you whine as your ability to grind on his face has been completely taken away from you.
“Your whimpers are so so— adorable.” Yuta’s voice almost comes of as a whine as he places small kisses all over your heat before his head completely dives in, his face was filthy from all your juice over his face.
You manage to look down, over the swell of your breast where your nipples remain hard, wet and swollen from the previous sucking and tugs which had almost made you pass out; As you see him slurp, making such nasty, filthy sounds with each action. As if sensing your gaze, he looks up at you almost innocently.
“I want to fill you up with my cum. I want to come inside this pussy— please? Please say ‘yes’.” He whines, looking so needy.
Just where did he learn to do all of ‘these’?
He beams when you reach out your hand as you cup his face. “Ngh…O-of course you can, Okkotsu.” He buries his face in completely once more.
His tongue was deep in you “You can call me by my first name.” Your heavy breathing makes his blood go straight to his his cock making it drip with need.
From a moaning mess,you completely stiffen as you open your mouth. Then proceeded to close it.
“Oh…” His eyes darken as an felt the grip on your thighs tighten. “You forgot my name…”
“Part your legs a little more, sweetheart.” You whimper at his words.“By the time I’m done you’ll have my name running through your mind with every ache.”
1K notes · View notes
amourane · 8 months ago
Text
love notes in music
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: drummer!theodore nott x rich girl!reader
genre: fluff, modern au
w/c: 1.2k
summary: you always got what you wanted and the extremely hot drummer was no exception.
warnings: none
a/n: i am here to push forward the drummer theo agenda because yes yes and yes
Tumblr media
Trouble was coming. You could feel it in your bones. Maybe it was the extra shot of espresso you had today or the wild predictions in your horoscope, but you definitely sensed something brewing. It didn’t help that Enzo had interrupted your lunch and dragged you back to campus for god knows what reason.
"Enzo if this is another one of your tricks to get me to dance with you it's not going to work. Remember what happened last time?" 
You dug your heels into the grass as your best friend continued to drag you across the field. The campus auditorium came into view and you frowned. There was no reason for you to even be there today so why was Enzo tugging you along like bait?
“Yes Y/n I remember what happened last time.”
"I fractured my ankle and I do not want to wear a cast ever again. I couldn't match the darn thing with any of my clothes." You huffed out a breath at the memory of the ugly accessory that the doctors had insisted on your wearing despite your protests. 
Admittedly you were a bit of a spoiled brat but at least you knew that you were. Going to a normal university was one of your father’s choices. You would have never gone somewhere so shabby on a daily basis. Truth be told on the first day, you were actually planning to ditch and go grab a chai latte. Then you bumped into Enzo accidentally and the two of you seemed to click. 
It was a good friendship. He’d always be able to tell you when you were being a tad bit annoying because of your rich girl behaviour and you’d be able to join him in his multiple activities. One which led to the infamous ankle incident. 
“Don’t worry Y/n, you’ll still be able to wear that Gucci jacket-”
“It was an Armani jacket.”
“Yeah yeah.” Enzo pushed open the door to the auditorium, and you were immediately greeted by the sound of drums pounding heavily. The amplified sound hurt your ears. “Welcome to the band.” 
“Um...Enzo, do I need to remind you of the time when I broke a guitar?” You nervously watched the live band on stage. Technically it wasn’t your fault that the guitar broke. Enzo never did tell you how to properly use it. “And when did you join a band?”
“Please don’t remind me Y/n also I didn’t actually join the band I’m more of a-”
“Hey Enzo!” 
The music stopped. Your head whipped around and your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the absolute hunk that had just shouted. His dark hair seemed to glow under the spotlight making him look like some sort of angel. Your mouth ran dry when he waved a drumstick at you. His fingers looked as if they’d been carved out of stone. And his biceps. God his biceps. The guy was ripped. He was a drummer as well. What was more sexy than a drummer?! 
“Hey Theo!” Enzo, your backstabbing friend who knew your weakness for hot boys with dark hair that played the drums, embraced him in a tight hug. “The practice is going well.”
“I know!” 
Good god, his eyes were like beautiful whirlpools of love. The two boys started talking animatedly about something to do with music. There were a few words thrown here and there that you recognised but other than that you stood watching wide-eyed at the conversation in front of you. 
“Who’s the pretty lady?”
Theo turned to face you and seeing his face up close only made you want to kiss him more. He really was gorgeous. You cleared your throat, straightening your skirt. “I’m Y/n, Enzo’s best friend, and you are?”
“Theo.” He offered you his hand, which you shook. Wow, his hands were soft. You were almost jealous. Time to buy new hand cream. “Hey, I’ve heard of you. You’re that girl who nearly broke her foot when dancing.”
Your cheeks flushed. Was this your legacy now? The girl that nearly broke her foot while dancing? How horrible. You would much rather be known for your stunning looks or incredible fashion sense. 
“Actually I twisted my ankle but who’s keeping track?” 
“Y/n isn’t the best dancer or guitarist.” Enzo chimed in. “She’s really good at maths though, she’s my second brain.” He said it as if you were simply another organ in his body, but you let it slide, trying to make a good impression on the drummer boy.
Theo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, it's good to know Enzo has a brain to rely on."
You giggled at his remark, feeling the tension ease a bit. "Yeah, he needs all the help he can get."
"Hey!" Enzo protested, a small pout forming. "I'll have you know I'm quite capable on my own."
"Sure you are." You teased, nudging him playfully. Then, turning back to Theo, you asked, "So, what kind of music do you guys play?"
Theo's face lit up with enthusiasm. "We're a rock band, mostly. Some original stuff, a few covers. We're actually looking for a new guitarist. Interested?" He winked, clearly joking.
You shook your head, laughing. "After what happened last time? I think I'll pass. I'm more of an appreciator of talent than a participant. But I might be persuaded to attend a private concert."
Theo laughed, a rich, warm sound that made your heart flutter. "A private concert, huh? I think we can arrange that."
Enzo rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go."
Ignoring Enzo, you leaned a bit closer to Theo, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "So, Theo, do you always look this good while playing the drums, or is today a special occasion?"
Theo raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into a smirk. "I guess you'll have to come to more practices to find out."
You gave him a once-over, pretending to think it over. "Maybe. I do have a very busy schedule, you know.”
“Sounds like a yes to me. We’ve got a gig this weekend, free up some space in that glamorous life of yours and come.
You tried your best to conceal your excitement at the fact you had just scored yourself a date with a very hot drummer. Forget about trouble today was definitely the best day of your life. 
"Alright, I'll be there." You agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "But only if you promise me a private drum lesson afterward."
"It's a deal. I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment." Theo’s grin only widened and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. He really was handsome and if you didn’t know how he was single but that was good news for you.
“I’ve got some studying to catch up on but I’ll hold you to that.” You offered him a wave goodbye as you made your way out of the auditorium with Enzo. Theo simply smiled, reciprocating your action. 
A giddy feeling overtook your body as the sun shone down on you. There were millions and millions of butterflies soaring in your stomach and you could only squeal at the idea of seeing Theo in the next few days. Before your best friend could say anything you spun on your heels, this time dragging him along with you.
“We need to go shopping right now, I need a new outfit for the weekend.” 
Enzo could only groan as his feet automatically moved. It was going to be a long day.
Tumblr media
739 notes · View notes
iheartsteve0704 · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Agathario | Modern Day - Separation AU
Nicholas is still alive but due to work, high stress, and misunderstanding Agatha and Rio feel like they’ve been drifting apart and somehow land on a separation
None of them want this but their communication has been so poor lately and in the midst of a heated fight, they gaslight themselves into thinking each other wants this
They don’t know if this is heading towards divorce, they hope not, but they give each other the space
They still live in the same house, for Nicholas’s sake, and act normal around him but tension is high and it feels like they are walking on egg shells
Rio sleeps in their bedroom and Agatha sleeps down the hall (the older woman doesn’t slip into that room until she’s certain Nicky has gone to sleep, but he knows because sometimes he sneaks into bed with Rio and cuddles up with her)
They also somehow land upon that it’s okay to see other people during this time (both don’t even explore this fact because it’s insane but one night Agatha has her friend JEN over during wine night and she tries to convince her to download Tinder and if Rio runs into her room and cries well she’d never admit that)
Around 2 months later, they have to attend a party they greed to go to months ago and get ready in the same house but separate rooms while Nicky goes to their neighbor Lila’s (shoutout Lilia!!!)
Agatha passes by their room and notices Rio struggling to zip up the back and Rio is able to sense Agatha watching her through the crack in the door so she asks her to come in and zip it (and maybe Agatha stares too long at her smooth skin and relishes in the way Rio shiver at the graze of her knuckles down her spin)
Agatha also relishes in the fact that Rio’s eyes cast over her body in their vanity mirror because she knows this is Rio’s favorite dress on her and maybe she wore it on purpose
They leave in separate cars, even though after the dress indecent Agatha offers her a ride and tries not to throw up at the fact that Rio is getting picked up by a friend who Agatha knew had a big crush on her wife
At the party, they keep their distance from each other but their eyes can’t help but land on one another
Agatha stares too hard when Rio’s friend clings to her side as the younger woman works the room (Agatha was never one to smooze but was happy to admire her wife while she does so, now she watches this other woman (younger and Agatha thinks prettier) fill her spot for her)
Rio has to take a cigarette break when she sneaks a peak at Agatha at the bar area, where she sees a guy trying to talk her up and even moves to tuck a piece of her tousled hair behind her ear (what Rio doesn’t see because she leaves is the way Agatha steps back in disgust and holds up her left hand up revealing her wedding band)
After this, Agatha ends up going outside too and bumps right into Rio making her cig fall onto the floor and burn out. Rio has a curse word for the offender on the tip of her tongue until she turns around and sees her wife
They stare at each other, tension so thick you can cut it with a knife after all that jealousy inside.
Then it’s Rio who puts her hand on the curve of Agatha’s waist and Agatha moves in closer to cup Rio’s soft cheek. They’re like magnets, pulling closer to each other, until a car pulls into the parking lot and the moment is gone and Agatha quickly is moving back inside
The rest of the party consists of the two longingly gazing at each other across the room and no one really exists around them
At the end of the night, Agatha is drunker than she should be (considering she has to drive) and is being borderline harassed by the man at the bar who insists he drive her home
Rio wanted to step in from the moment he looked at her wife earlier but doesn’t until she hears her wife say “Don’t touch me” and she springs into action and decks him in the jaw while saying some words in Spanish that aren’t very kind
The words “TOCUH MY FUCKING WIFE AGAIN AND YOULL BE SORRY BUDDY. ILL END YOU, I PROMISE” fall out of her mouth loudly and Rio means every word, eyes blazing with anger
The gross man laughs at her and makes a comment about Rio not being by Agatha’s side all night and Rio lunges at him to hit him again
It’s Agatha who pulls Rio back after they draw a crowd and walks them to Agatha’s car
When they arrive to the vehicle, away from prying eyes, Rio takes the key from the older woman and looks at her with concerned eyes. She scans the woman with worry. She asks “did he touch you? Hurt you? I swear to god I’ll go back there and k*ll him. If he even tried anything with you I will-“ but she can’t finish that sentence because Agatha kisses her with so much longing and passion tears slip from both their eyes
Rio drives them home, one hand on the steering steaming wheel and the old holding her wife’s hand (they are both absolutely beaming)
When they get home they silently agree to go into their shared bedroom, strip down and just hold each other in bed while they fall asleep in each others arms
In the morning, they have hard conversations but it’s real and they need it and they finally understand their problems and how to fix it and laugh at the fact that neither wanted a separation and maybe have incredible makeup sex
After they shower, and do unholy things in there, they end up in the kitchen and dance and laugh around the sun filled room while they cook and can’t keep their hands off each other
Nicky comes in through the back door and sees his moms happy again, running into their arms and they embrace him with equal enthusiasm because their family is whole again
279 notes · View notes
loverboysturn · 4 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!chris and the football team take a visit to the diner when cinderella!reader is on shift !
find all popular!chris and cinderella!reader writings here and everything else here!
note: you might want to read this first before reading the below so some things make more sense :) my au’s are always open for this au! come yap or ask me questions about them!
Tumblr media
you normally hated working the late shift.
but for a friday night, it was quiet. the diner was empty, a few regulars sat in their usual seats and some families scattered about but all in all, your shift had been peaceful so far. the constant hum of the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans, and the sizzling sounds of the chefs at work was comforting to you, you wipe down the counter in front of you for the third time since you started work tonight, pretending to not notice how time was dragging on. it was boring but you were grateful for the calmness of it all, especially after the last week.
the world outside the diner seemed to be moving slowly too, the streets outside empty apart from the occasional cars driving by, it was one of those rare nights where it was quiet enough that you could find the time to think, your mind always going back to the same thing, same person.
but, the peace didn’t last long.
the door swings open, and the group swarm in, instantly filling the diner with their energy. their voices louder than usual, bouncing off the walls as they joked and laughed. the football team walking in first, followed not long after by a cluster of cheerleaders, all of them still hyped up from practice.
you barely have any time to adjust to the sudden change in the atmosphere before they were all over the place. completely taking over the booths at the back of the diner, making themselves known to everyone else already in here. their noise filling every corner of the diner, and the chatter between them growing with every passing second. the peace and quiet you had only just been enjoying was suddenly replaced with noise, and lots of it.
your colleague pops her head from behind the counter quietly calling your name. “honey, can you take the booths in the back for me? i’ll take the tables after, i just need to wrap up what i’m doing”
you didn’t need to look over to know to known which booths she was talking about.
you hesitate for a second, trying to scramble up an excuse as to why you can’t, feeling a familiar knot of dread tighten in your stomach.
“but, i—i” you stutter, brain working overdrive to find an excuse.
“please?” she asks again, giving you a small smile.
you sigh, accepting your fate. “yeah, of course.” you really, really didn’t want to serve them. the teasing, the jokes, it was always the same when they were around, and you weren’t in the mood for it all tonight, but you couldn’t say no to her.
taking a deep breath, you straightened out your apron and forced yourself to look unbothered by them all, the last thing you needed was for them to start making more of a scene, but you knew the moment you walked over, they’d find something to laugh at.
as you make your way to the table, your eyes immediately land on chris sturniolo, and for a second, your stomach flips. the memory of bumping into him in the hallway earlier this week flashes in your mind. your books flying out of your arms, the way your cheeks went a deep red after falling to the floor, rejecting his offer to help you up, you quickly look away, trying to shake the feeling of being in his line of vision for the first time since, even though he hadn’t so much as even looked at you once.
“here she is, diner girl” one of the football team says as he sees you, loud enough for them all to hear. you recognise him as the guy who was rude to you you the other day when you bumped into chris. “don’t forget your service with a smile today.”
you bite your lip, forcing a smile as you click your pen and pull out your notepad to take their order.
it was hard to not feel the weight of all their eyes on you, you had enough going on at the minute, you’d been juggling assignments at school, your stepmother signing you up for shift after shift, and on top of it all, there were the late night texts you shared with someone you still didn’t know the identity of but for you it was easier that way, completely anonymous. there were no expectations, no judgement. just words on a screen, but they were words that were starting to mean a lot to you.
“what can i get you guys today?” you ask, trying to keep your tone professional. you wasn’t in the mood for the teasing from them tonight, but you’d try to just ignore it.
“milkshakes” one of the cheerleaders looks up at you with a fake smile, “the usual, don’t fuck it up.”
as she finishes speaking, another cheerleader giggles at her friends’ rudeness, a sharp, laugh that rings in your ears after, you recognise her as the head cheerleader.. always the loudest, the first to join in with the diner girl jokes. your eyes briefly look over to where she has her arm casually draped over chris’s, trying to gain his attention, but he wasn’t paying any interest in her, not even looking up from his phone, clearly more interested in what was on the screen than the girl bedside him.
they were the stereotypical on-and-off couple. chris, the school’s golden boy and captain of the football team and her, the head cheerleader and the girl all her friends wanted to be. everyone knew their drama, how they’d broken up and gotten back together more times than you could count on both hands. the last you’d heard, they’d broken up for good just before the summer break started but you’d never paid much attention to it, the gossip of the popular crowd had never really interested you, it was always the same boring stories.
“got it” you say, your voice flat as you force a smile. you turn on your heel, rolling your eyes when they could no longer see you, the feeling of frustration brewing in your chest at the way they treated anyone not in their group but you’d gotten good at pretending they didn’t bother you at work, even when they did. you knew they’d leave a terrible tip anyway, that’s if they even left one at all.
you make sure the milkshakes come out exactly as they ordered to prevent any more rude comments from them, a few vanilla, a few chocolate and some strawberry flavoured. you place them carefully on the table, trying your best to avoid eye contact with anyone but as you set the last one in front of chris, he looks up at you, eyes locking with yours.
“you know, diner girl” one of his teammates interrupts the eye contact, a smirk forming on his lips. “i think we shouldn’t have to pay for these tonight, they’re on the house, right? you know.. ‘cause of your little accident running into chris this week.”
the whole table erupts into laughter, a few other comments muttered and fake giggles, a cheerleader chimes in “yeah, maybe you should stay out the way next time and you’d earn your tips.”
you still don’t let your frustrations show, just nodding at them. “enjoy your drinks guys.” you sigh, quickly walking away before any more comments can be thrown your way.
an hour or so later, the group finish their drinks and you notice them all start to make their way to the exit, their noise and laughter still echoing all around the diner. you stand behind the counter, cleaning a coffee mug, hoping they’ll just hurry up and leave.
“thanks for the free milkshakes, diner girl” one of the football team shouts. “you’ll have to bump into our golden boy more often.”
you don’t respond, just waiting for them all to finally leave, bringing the diner back to the quiet you were enjoying earlier.
you turn to grab a rag from under the counter, already bracing yourself for their mess that you’ll now have to clean, but as you’re about to head over, you feel someone standing on the other side of the counter infront of you.
you glance up, half expecting it to be one of the football team or a cheerleader, waiting to throw one last comment at you before they leave for good, but when you look up and your eyes land on chris, you’re taken aback. he’s standing there, his posture is calm, but you can sense the tension in his shoulders and for a second, you freeze, waiting for him to make some kind of snide remark.
but he doesn’t.
“i just wanted to say” he begins, voice softer than you expected. “i’m sorry for how they all treated you tonight. i didn’t like that they spoke to you like that” he looks down, eyes on the counter infront of him. “the thing in the hallway the other day with me and you, that was completely my fault. i wasn’t looking where i was going.”
you blink in surprise, a look of confusion taking over your face. you wasn’t expecting this, you open your mouth to say something, but the words are stuck in your throat.
“i—“ you start, unsure of how to respond. “it’s fine, i—I’m kinda used to it now.”
he shakes his head, finally looking up at you now. “no,” his voice firm, “you shouldn’t have to be used to it, that’s not fair on you but i’m sorry if my stupid clumsiness made it all worse tonight.”
when you saw him stood there just now, you expected the same attitude you receive off his friends, the same dismissive tone in his voice but instead, he’s apologising for them and you can’t quite figure out why.
“honestly, chris” you say, forcing a smile. “it’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.”
his gaze lingers on you, then without warning, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled bill, sliding it over to you. “here,” he says, “for the milkshakes.”
“thank you,” you murmur, voice softer with him now, you take the money, fingers brushing against his making the awkward tension in the air between you become thick enough that you feel yourself becoming flustered.
chris gives you a half-smile, a rare one that feels a lot more genuine than the usual one you see him throw about at football games and in the hallways. “it’s nothing,” he says, his tone softening. “and, uh…you really know how to make a great strawberry milkshake, guess i owe you one now for that too.”
you blink, completely caught off guard but before you can say anything else, chris turns and heads for the door, slipping out with his friends, door swinging shut behind him. you watch him go, still feeling confused by him being nice to you but you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he is still like the rest of them, charming when he wants something, but just as rude as his friends when it doesn’t matter to him.
you push your thoughts aside, just wanting to forget about the whole scene and pretend your shift tonight didn’t happen, you focus on the task waiting for you, heading over to the now messy booth where they’d been sitting that needed cleaning.
as you wipe the table, your mind drifts to your mystery guy and you can’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now. is he thinking about you too? you glance at the clock, a sense of relief running through you when you see there’s only an hour left of your shift.
sixty more minutes, and you’ll be able to talk to him again, the only thing that had been on your mind all night, the only thing that makes the chaos of your life all fade into the background.
little did you know, the guy who was keeping you up at night and consuming your thoughts, was standing just a few feet from you earlier, complimenting you on your strawberry milkshakes and you had no idea.
Tumblr media
210 notes · View notes
gggukniverse · 9 months ago
Text
guys my age | myg (m)
Tumblr media
title: guys my age
pairing: yoongi x f!reader
genre: m , smut , mom's boyfriend au , age gap
summary: you and your mom have been living in her new boyfriend's house for a couple of weeks. it's a little hard adapting to living there but on a weekend your mom is out of town and you've invited a guy to the house for a quick and disappointing hookup, yoongi lets you know he's more than willing to help you out.
warnings: [just for the teaser] brief sexual encounter with another guy, bad sex, age gap, kind of dubious consent, yoongi kiiiiiiind of manipulates reader
wordcount: 1.5k (just the teaser)
drop date: still not sure !!! sorry for making you wait but i will be working on it !!!!
note: hey :) this is my next fic !!! i'm super excited for this one. i'm still working on basic needs part 3 though, just be patient
-
-
-
you still get lost in this house, you realize you do when you stop by the middle of one of the hallways in complete confusion because you don’t even know where the office is.
it’s normal to need time to adapt to a new place, you already knew that when you moved with your mom into her new boyfriend, but two weeks have passed since you moved to this house and you’ve lost even the way back to your room now.
it’s only when you hear the noise of a keyboard that you turn to the end of the hallway to the right and see light coming from a room with the door just a little open. that’s the office.
you walk down the hallway hesitantly and knock two times on the door, only opening it all the way when you hear that deep voice saying ‘come in’.
“hi,” you say quietly as you stand by the door. yoongi is working but he takes a break from all of the papers on his desk and his computer to look up at you and take his glasses off. “i- i’m sorry, am i bothering?”
“no, don’t worry,” he seems shakes his head and smiles sweetly at you. “is everything okay?”
“yeah, everything is okay... i just wanted to ask you something.” you bite your lower lip, already sensing the negative response coming.
“sure, what is it?” yoongi leans back on his chair and crosses his arms.
“my mom never lets me bring anyone home, so now that she’s not here for the weekend... i was wondering if you would let me bring someone in, since this is your house.” you let it out as fast as you can, like ripping off a bandage.
“you wanna bring someone over,” yoongi nods slowly to himself as if he’s processing what you just told him so you hum in affirmation. “a friend?” he tilts his head to the side a little, as if he’s testing you.
“uh, well...” you feel your cheeks burn and he seems to get it right away.
“your mom warned me as soon as she left that you would try to sneak someone in.” he says and that’s when you know you’re done.
“okay.” you say quietly, your shoulders dropping in disappointment.
but yoongi speaks again, “he can come over.”
you look up again with wide eyes and see that he has a smile on his face. “really?” you ask in disbelief. you really expected him to say no.
“sure, but don’t cause any trouble.” he warns and you nod immediately.
“thank you, yoongi oppa.” you bow before turning around again and walking out of the office.
it turns out not being that good of an idea to bring the boy you’ve been talking to for a few days over to this house.
“fuck yeah...” the boy hovering over you groans as he keeps fucking you at a way too rough pace for your liking, not hurting you but straight up not making you feel good. “does that feel good baby?” he mutters against your ear and you almost want to laugh but you just fake a moan before saying, “yeah.”
he obviously comes on your stomach and just starts getting dressed again, like sex is over as soon as he comes. he doesn’t even stay, just leaves you there alone feeling completely dirty and empty. and it’s not the first time you have a sex experience as bad as this one, in fact, all of your sexual encounters with guys always end like this.
you only get up from the bed when you decide that you have to at least clean his now drying cum from your stomach. you clean it with some wipes but you still feel dirty, so after putting on an old big shirt and some sweatshorts you walk out of your room and make your way to the closest bathroom with the intention of taking a quick shower.
but just as you turn to the next hallway you stomp against someone’s chest.
“woah, careful.” yoongi’s voice makes you step back and look up at him.
“sorry...” you mumble and quickly look down again in embarrassment because you probably still look a little fucked out.
“did your friend leave already?” yoongi asks, not showing any interest in wanting to walk away so you sigh and look up again, nodding in response. “are you okay?”
your heart starts racing with how he’s looking at you, like he’s analyzing every detail on your expression.
“yeah, yeah. i’m okay.” you nod anxiously and almost flinch when he reaches out to you with his hands, putting the back of it against your forehead.
“do you have a fever?” yoongi asks with a little frown, like he’s actually worried, but you catch the way his lips curl into a little smirk as soon as you’re about to panic.
he’s teasing you. of course he knew what you’ve been doing.
“please don’t tell my mom.” you say as he drops his hand from your forehead. he smiles.
“brat can’t go a day without having a cock inside,” he chuckles and your mouth opens for you to say something but you’re left completely speehless because never in a million years you would’ve expected him to speak like that to you. “don’t think i don’t notice when you sneak boys inside my house. you were nice for asking this time, though. didn’t expect you to.”
“i...” words don’t even leave your mouth, so shocked that he knows everything.
“was it worth it at least?” he lifts one of his eyebrows and tilts his head in a way that has your body feeling hot for some reason. “was he good to you?” he asks again.
“no.” you speak so quietly it’s barely a whisper.
“did you cum?”
“no,” you shake your head, not being able to tear your eyes away from him as if you’re under a spell. “i... never do. they always finish and leave.” you mutter with so much embarrasment that you wanna die, but the words come out much more easily than you would’ve expected.
“mh... i know.” the tone in his voice is so low.
you don’t even notice he’s walking closer to you until you can almost feel his breath hitting your face. after taking two steps back to get away from him, you hit the wall. he takes the last couple of steps to you until he has you cornered between the wall and his body.
“now tell me why i shouldn’t tell your mom, huh?” yoongi hums.
you look down, too embarrassed to look into his eyes now. “please, don’t tell her.” you mutter and a gasp escapes your throat when you feel a finger under your chin, lifting your head up to look at him again.
“say please one more time.” his entire aura is so intimidating that you feel your whole body shaking. he’s never been so close to you.
“please...” you look up at him with big eyes, those use to work.
yoongi exhales through his nose and your proximity to him lets you notice the way his jaw clenches.
“i won’t tell her,” he says and you sigh in relief, throwing your head back against the wall. “i’ll keep your secret if you keep ours.” you flinch when you feel fingertips running up your bare thigh.
“ours?”
he doesn’t reply but you don’t have a chance to ask him again because his lips are on yours.
a moan escapes your mouth and he follows with a grunt as one of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you flat against his body. his other hand, the one he was touching your thigh with, goes up to your ass and squeezes it. you whine against his lips because his hand feels so big, so good.
your mind is so dizzy and your legs are starting to shake because it is a good fucking kiss and the way he’s holding you makes you feel amazing, but something inside your brain makes you snap back to reality. you’re kissing your mom’s boyfriend, a man who’s 22 years older than you.
you put your hands on his chest and push him back a little. “oppa...” you pant, trying to catch your breath, and look down to his chest to avoid his gaze.
“mh?” he brings the hand on your ass to your lower back, keeping you close to him.
“why did you do that?” you say and he only chuckles, so low.
“why did i do what?”
“kiss me... and- and touch me.” you explain with a shaky voice.
“mh?” yoongi hums again and leans down, stealing another kiss from your lips that makes you forget what you were talking about. “touch you?” he asks, so close to your lips.
he smiles when you try to chase his lips. “touch me.” you repeat, not even conscious of what you’re saying.
“want me to touch you?” yoongi’s hands go to your waist, holding you by your sides.
something inside you is yelling at you, begging you to go back to your room. but you nod at yoongi’s question, earning a smile from him that feels like a reward.
“come with me, sweetheart.” he’s suddenly taking a step back and offering you his hand to hold, waiting for you to make a decision.
you take it.
-
-
-
to be continued :)
652 notes · View notes
blackkatdraws2 · 8 months ago
Text
This little NPC is lost. The Narrator [Black] has come to guide her back to where she needs to be. [Blank Scripts AU]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I imagine Black would be a lot more tolerant toward his NPCs since they're basically just the Dungeons spawns, and by extension, his own creations.
[If you're familiar with manhwas / manhuas that features the dungeon / system genre, you'd be able to understand this AU a lot easier. The majority of my inspiration for worldbuilding came from those specific genres.]
[NOTE: 'Dungeon' is just another term for the Parable. Technically, Black owns a Dungeon and the Parable is just a small part of it. The Dungeon itself is much, much larger.]
Tumblr media
For context, the comic below references this post about the Dungeon's children/guard dogs.
[They're more like the immune system since all they do is make sure the (body) is safe.]
[The reason the Narrator [Black] considers them his children is that the Dungeon is feeding off his energy and in turn shares the 'nutrients' to the monsters it produces, which transforms them into an image that resembles his power.]
Tumblr media
And the old man below is Joseph!
Tumblr media
Joseph is NOT AN NPC! He is a person who exists outside of the Dungeon!
[There are two separate 'worlds' for this AU. Inside the Dungeon (where most of the game-like stuff is happening) and the world outside (pretty much their normal world.)]
[There is a secret third world, and that's our world. Our reality.]
These characters are not actually important or anything, I just made them to make the AU feel more lively. To make a world that exists, you know?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
When the Narrator [Black] first established himself in their world, he found a growing problem with homelessness. Not understanding human norms or why this has become a problem in the first place, he offers (tricks) them into working for him as janitors for the Dungeon and they accept for the money.
Most of them left after they got paid, but Joseph was one of the people who stayed. He doesn't have anywhere else to go and has no ambitions in life. He just wishes to live a peaceful life with food and a roof over his head.
Joseph defaults to referring to the Narrator [Black] with feminine terms due to his appearance despite his voice. The Narrator [Black] is not the type to care for such terms anyway so he doesn't care how other people refer to him as long as there's respect.
--------------
This post focuses more on the worldbuilding and background aspects of the AU! There are a lot more in store for the Blank Scripts AU, and I want to explore more on how the characters might interact with their surroundings and how this would work to make a world that makes sense.
It would be so cool if people made self-inserts or OCs for my AU actually. I'd love to see how you guys would work with my stuff. Play around with it like a barbie world for your little barbie dolls. Be canon compliant, be canon divergent, who cares, have fun.
489 notes · View notes
alllgator-blood · 2 months ago
Text
Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP
Tumblr media
LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:
I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.
I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago
Tumblr media
Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".
But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".
SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.
Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.
When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.
I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')
But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......
150 notes · View notes