#it's more like a lounge sofa

[brobert]

just made a bench

[nyaacatboy]

i have to say that my one pet peeve about my university is that several times i've found a Comfy Spot To Chill only for it to be replaced by like tables and desks a few months later...let me Lounge for goodness sake

[s0dium]

I fucking hate him

A/n: One of the dialogues is lightly taken from "God of Ruin" by Rina Kentaken (plz check it out) Enjoy!!

Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: You detest Yuji's uncle, Sukuna. His demeanor is rude and abrasive, and he is undoubtedly a sadist. You don't even try to hide your disdain, but the more you try to distance yourself from him, the stronger his opposition grows. Each attempt to push him away only seems to draw him in closer, closer, ever so close.

"You're fucking insufferable," you spat, your eyes narrowing with hatred. "You're pretentious," Sukuna shot back, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth." No, you're a narcissist," you hiss" Yeah, but I turn you on," he purrs

Warning: Hate sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, edging, cowgirl, size kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, breeding

You remember the day you met Sukuna for the first time like it was yesterday.

It was during the somber occasion of Wasuke Itadori's funeral—Yuji's beloved grandfather. The day was draped in a heavy sorrow; after the ceremony and the lowering of the casket, you followed the Itadori family back to their home. Being practically family yourself, and living just next door, it felt natural to join them and if not grieve, support the grieving family alongside them. While everyone gathered in the garden, sharing hushed memories and quiet support, you slipped inside the house to charge your phone.

As you stepped into the room, the air felt suddenly charged, like the prelude to a storm. There in the living room, was a man, a large man, lounging on one of the sofas dressed in a black suit and tie. The first thing you notice is his striking pink hair contrasting sharply with the dark, intricate tattoos that crawl up his neck and frame his face. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fix on you the moment you enter, and his smirk is like a crack in a mask of indifference.

"You must be the famous dear friend of the family, Y/n right?" he drawls, his voice as smooth as silk and just as dangerous. "Heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise." His voice drips with sarcasm making you thickly gulp.

You hesitate by the doorway, your initial smile freezing on your lips. This was the Sukuna Ryomen? The man you'd heard only in hushed conversations between Jin and Choso, the man Yuji calls his uncle? You try to muster your composure, crossing the room to stand at a respectable distance.

"I wish I could say the same," you reply, aiming for polite but firm. Your voice wavers just slightly.

Sukuna chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. "Oh, come now. No need for such defenses. I'm not the monster they painted in their tales. Or perhaps I am, and that's what intrigues you? What do you think so far" he bends forward. "Am I intriguing?"

You bristle at his words, the arrogance dripping from each syllable like poison. "I-I dont know about that." You curse yourself at the way your voice comes out as a stutter. "I'm here out of respect for your family."

"Respect," he repeats, tasting the word as if it's something exotic. "Funny, I never put much stock in that. The old man sure tried to teach me, shame he is gone. But perhaps you'll teach me its value?"

What the hell does he mean by that?

He stands suddenly, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps. You can’t help but step back, your back hitting the wall. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating.

"Why so tense?" Sukuna teases, leaning close, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. After all, anyone who loves my family must have some redeeming qualities, hidden though they may be. Although," he tilts his head, as if analyzing you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just kept you around cause you're a pretty thing to look at."

You feel a flush of anger and embarrassment heating your cheeks. "I think you've gotten to know enough for one day," you snap, ducking under his arm and striding toward the door. His laughter follows you, low and mocking.

"Oh, don't be like that!" he calls out. "We're just getting started!"

It only took a minute. One minute for you to decide that you hated Sukuna with a fucking passion.

Unfortunately, the fact that Sukuna had just gotten out of jail, did nothing to hamper your hatred. It seemed like ever since he got out, he was not only determined to stick to the family, but to you, like glue.

The Friday night dinners with the Itadori family, once cherished and loved, had practically turned into a battleground. What used to be a warm gathering was now filled with endless teasing and arrogant attempts at flirting. You were even hesitant to stay over now, as you were never to sure when you’d turn a corner and there Sukuna would be with some sleazy remark about your pajamas.

You tried talking to the Itadori family about it, tried complaining to Jin and raise your concerns. And as receptive and understanding as they were, you knew that for them, blood was thicker than anything, and in some part, you knew that applied to you too.

Still, you persisted, even now as you sat at another Friday dinner you were determined to just enjoy yourself with the family you loved so much.

Key word, tried.

"Well, Jin, I must say, this food is... quaint.” He says through a chuckle and you have to bite the inside of your cheek from throwing a fork at him right there and then. “Did you burn it on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?"

"Dude," You breathe a sigh of relief when Choso speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Can you go one day without being a jerk?" His eyes are fixed on Sukuna, echoing the frustration you both share about his behavior. This solidarity is one of the reasons why you feel closest to Choso in the family. His understanding and shared grievances with the insufferable man were one of the reasons why you two were best friends.

"Please, I bet this food beats anything you had in prison." You whisper under your breath, but audibly enough that others catch it when you hear Choso breathe through his nose in a laugh-like snort.

Sukuna sets down his silverware and leans forward with a grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he gazes across the table at you. "Oh, someone's got a sharp tongue," he remarks. "Careful, angel, you might cut yourself."

You roll your eyes and sharply cross your arms. "Funny, coming from someone who probably had to beg for scraps behind bars. Do you even know what real food tastes like?"

You don’t miss the way Yuji chokes on his pasta, stifling back laughter making you smile.

Sukuna's lips curve into a sly smirk as he locks eyes with you. "Oh trust me, I've tasted a lot of things. But I guess you wouldn't understand, being so... sheltered."

Unfazed, you shoot back with a dismissive wave of your hand, "Sheltered? Please. At least I don’t need to rely on prison slop to remind me of home."

This time, Sukuna's response is a silent, piercing stare that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even though you were wearing a sweater and shorts, his gaze made you feel like you were naked.

From the corner, Jin clears his throat, chuckling nervously. "Um, maybe we should all just calm down a bit—"

You cut him off, your voice firm as you defend the meal laid out before you. “No way, not when he disrespects your food, which is great, may I add.”

"Oh, I love it when you get all fired up." Sukuna's eyes glint with mischief as he watches your rising frustration. "It's adorable."

Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me, I think I'm full," you declare crisply, gathering your dishes with a clatter and storming off to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. Without a backward glance, you stride toward the living room, your footsteps echoing your irritation.

"Come on, why do you always gotta be such an ass, Uncle?" Yuji mumbles, shooting a glare at Sukuna who only responds with a shrug.

As you sank into the couch cushions, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of your favorite spot. You turned on the TV, dazedly watching whatever was on, trying to distract yourself from the day's tensions. Of course, thoughts of Sukuna kept creeping into your mind. What was his problem with you? Did the man get dropped on the head as a baby? How and the hell were he and Jin brothers?? Surely he was the result of some fucked up science experiment.

Engulfed in your thoughts, the passage of time slipped unnoticed until a shift in the couch's cushion snapped you back to reality. You turned, and -

Oh what the fuck.

Sukuna settled next to you, leaning on the armrest of the other side of the couch, a tattooed hand settled on his thigh, He had changed into a white tank top and sweatpants, and you feel your heart jump when your eyes unconsciously travel to between his leg where a slight budge pressed against the fabric. Shit. The tips of your ears turned red and you bit the inside of your cheek. That's another thing you loathed about Sukuna; how the scent of his old spice shampoo made you dizzy, how the way he towered over you made your breathing stop, how despite how fucking insufferable he was, he was so so so attractive.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you choked out, your tone edged with disbelief and irritation.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What does it look like? Watching TV," he replied coolly, his eyes briefly scanning the screen before settling back on you. "Everyone's gone to sleep, you know."

"No, what are you doing sitting next to me?" you hissed, the proximity suddenly feeling far too close despite the physical distance. Your eyes narrowed, locking onto his vermillion eyes.

"Why you afraid I'll bite?" He says, gnashing his teeth together in a teasing display before moving closer to you. "Don't worry, I only bite when I'm asked."

"S-stop talking to me like that," you say, trying to shuffle back, but find yourself already trapped against the armrest.

"Like what?" Sukuna's voice is teasing, almost playful.

"Like I'm your toy."

He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips. "More like my doll."

"More like your grim reaper. I'll slice your throat if you touch me," you retort sharply, the tension between you crackling. You watch the way his eyes rake over you like a porn magazine, making you cross your arms as if to shield yourself.

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement. "You're such a menace. I want to gobble you up."

As he inches closer, the scent of his shampoo fills the air—a fragrance so intoxicating you want to bury your nose in it, yet you resist. "I'll give you indigestion, asshole," you snap, trying to maintain your composure.

"Worth it, muse," he counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sure you're going to be thinking about that when I punch you in the face?"

"Oh, and make me bleed? Blood?" He licks his lips. "Yum." He feigns shock, leaning even closer. "You just keep ticking all my boxes today. Did you do your research on me?"

"Not even if you were the last man alive," you choke out, his proximity overwhelming, his face just inches from yours now. A slight move, and your noses would brush against each other.

"Last man to everyone else? No. To you? Highly likely." His whisper is a taunt, his breath a warm tease against your skin.

That's it.

As you attempt to rise from the couch, Sukuna's large hand swiftly lands on your thigh, pressing just firmly enough to guide you back down onto the cushion. You react instinctively, trying to swat his hand away, but he's quicker; he catches both of your wrists in his grasp, holding them gently yet with an unyielding firmness.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demand, your voice sharp with alarm and a flare of anger, your eyes locked intensely on his, searching for an explanation in his steady gaze.

"Jesus christ Y/n" Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes, "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” He chuckles.

Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, and get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so.

“I-fuck you” The words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and stern. You stay silent as you watch him examine your face. He leans in, close enough to kiss you, raises his right hand and runs his finger tips down your face.

"Will you bite my tongue if I kiss you?"

"Maybe"

Sukuna's mouth crashes onto yours, hard, angry, and demanding. He doesn't even give you a chance to resist, not even a breath. His lips are fierce against yours, stealing every breath you try to take. Your hands instinctively move to push him away, but instead, you find yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

You meet his aggression with equal force, your lips moving furiously against his. His hands cup your face roughly, holding you in place as his tongue demands entry. You respond with a whine, opening up to him, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

Every kiss is a challenge, every touch a dare. You bite his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that vibrates through you. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, hot, and angry.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply as if to remind him you won't be dominated easily. He retaliates by pressing you harder against the cushions, so you have no choice but to melt into him.

In one swift motion, Sukuna pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing muscles lined with black tattoos beneath. Before you can even take a breath, he’s back, his mouth claiming yours with renewed fervor. His hands move to your shirt, fingers pulling at the fabric of your sweater. You break the kiss for a mere second as he tugs your shirt off, then he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin.

His hands roam over your newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the waistband of your pants. He undoes them with a practiced ease, pushing them down and leaving you in just underwear and bra, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" you stutter, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replies, his voice low and filled with a wicked amusement.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you." His hands slide over your hips, pulling your pants down completely, and you shiver at the sensation of his touch.

You whine when he places his knee between your legs which pushes against your clothed crotch. You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna chuckle; his shit eating grin widening.

“Needy, arent you?”

Your instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he is already hooking a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your cunt. You mentally curse yourself at the fact that you're already wet, a fact that will sure to swell Sukuna's ego.

Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the juices before pushing a digit into your tight hole.

"S-shit." your groan, and the moment you clench around him, a sickening grin spreads across his tattooed face.

"Always knew you where gonna feel great around me."

The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.

“Hah~ I cant-” You whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You want to say you hate this, tell him to get off of you but you can't, you can't even think straight. You even push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sends tendrils of electricity through your body. But before you can fully bask in the pleasure, before you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, he pulls his fingers out.

"You think I'm gonna let you cum so early? After all the shit you have pulled?" His hand flies to your throat wrapping around it with a force that belies the strength behind it. Your breath hitches, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. His touch is firm, and commanding, but there’s an undeniable pleasure in the way his fingers tighten slightly, reminding you of the power he holds.

"Nah no way." Sukuna chuckles "Your just gonna have to suck it up."

You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to cut off your words, leaving you gasping. The pressure on your throat is intoxicating, a strange pleasure mingling with the discomfort. You can feel your pulse throbbing under his hand. You are so dazed that you don’t even notice he has pulled out his dick until you feel something big pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.

You’re about to open your mouth to say something, what, you do not know, but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like you're being split in two, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.  

“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.

“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.

The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the couch; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. He's girth spread you so well, so much, and the friction was so delicious, tears blotted your eyesight. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. Sukuna's pace is brutal, unforgiving, and he has to grab the arm rest above you with one arm to help his brutal and unforgiving pace into you.

Your mind grows hazy, lost in the sensation of how good he was fucking you, but then, without explanation, a spark of defiance ignites within you. Suddenly, you find the strength to flip him over, his dick not leaving the warmth of your cunt once and so you were effectively laying on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. With your chest flushed against his, and your ass perked up in the air, you begin to fuck yourself on his dick, raising your hips up and down his length as if he was a dildo.

"Oh thats it." Sukuna is not a whining man but here he is, his voice cracking from the feeling and sight of you riding him. "Fuck yourself on me shit shit shit."

You are practically drooling on his chest, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt against your G spot.

You let a whine when you feel yourself start to get tired so Sukuna grabs your hips and starts fucking you on his length.

Fap.Fap.Fap

"Gonna cum in you baby ok?" He murmurs into your ear and you dazedly nod.

Suddenly you feel your stomach dip and your mind go blank. Your mind feels as though it’s been dipped in pure euphoria, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, replaced by an overwhelming wave of bliss that drowns out everything else. Your body responds in kind, muscles tensing and releasing in perfect harmony with the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if every cell is vibrating with delight, your skin tingling with a heightened sensitivity that makes even the slightest touch feel like a divine caress. The heat of the sensation is intoxicating, making your limbs feel weightless as if you’re floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated joy.

Sukuna is quick to follow, shooting ropes of thick cum that glide down his shaft onto his balls.

"See? We are practically made for each other."

[hopskipandarump]

IM DOING IT

I AM FREE FROM THE SLUDGE ONCE MORE

[chuluoyi]

jealousy, jealousy...

- nanami kento x reader

your husband seems to be immune to jealousy, and you've pretty much convinced yourself that he just doesn't have it in him... or does he?

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, jealous!nanami (he is in denial), implied suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, gojo cameo (i just can't pass up the chance of him annoying the heck out of nanami ahaha)

note: based on this ask, this is a little continuation to the secret wife! and this is in the same universe as love entries so gojo is married to the love entries reader! :)

general masterlist

By all means, Nanami Kento is not a jealous man.

He knows his worth. And he knows you. Out of all people, you wouldn't try anything with anyone.

Even more so with Ino. He knows him too, and there is just no way.

So... he really shouldn't get riled up, especially when it was his shitty senior who tried to set him on fire—

"It's still beyond me, how you managed to bag her," Gojo remarked with a bark of snort. Both of them shared the same table in this high-end bar, an afterparty for the school's graduation, but Nanami was seriously considering to move after Yaga left earlier until this clown came. "And keep her a secret too. I mean, that's so foul! If I were your wife, I'd divorce you on the spot."

Nanami threw him a pointed look. "The feeling is mutual. I feel bad for her for putting up with you too. And please don't be gross and say things like you being my wife. It's appalling."

Gojo's wife being his close friend and former classmate was what foul, Nanami thought. Sure, he would acknowledge Gojo's relentless efforts, but still, anyone willing to be this shameless paintbrush's wife must lead a really daring life.

The strongest sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'll have you know that my married life is full of bliss. I have a proof, look at my—"

"If you want to show me hickeys, I'll seriously report you for harassing me."

And to that, Gojo merely whined and pursed his lips, and Nanami finally had some peace. He really entertained the thought of going back, because Gojo wasn't exactly a fun company, and this was getting late, until…

"Hey, Ino—the one who always follows you around," Gojo suddenly said. "Whoa, you're letting him close to your wife too, huh?"

Nanami whipped his head to where you were, and true to what Gojo said, you were indeed there, talking animatedly to his junior.

You were all smiles, and Ino was every bit as excited as you were. There was nothing remotely wrong with how you were conversing. You two looked like a pair of really, really good friends.

Ever since word of your marriage got out and became common knowledge, you've been receiving the kind of attention that Nanami wasn't sure he preferred. While he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, he certainly felt that a more private life was preferable.

But the thing was… weren't you too close with him? If it were up to him, Ino could've had at least two steps back. What were you discussing anyway?

"You're a lax husband, Nanamin, heh," Gojo whistled, totally grinning because he won this fight. "I know you probably think it's harmless, but a puppy is still a dog, you know~"

A puppy... is what?

That night, that phrase was what going through in his mind over and over as he chugged down his drinks.

No way, no way... It must have been because he had too much to drink. He couldn't possibly!

The next time he felt that unpleasant feeling, it was on one night, at the comfort of your home.

Both of you had just finished watching a movie, still lounging on the sofa. You were blissfully humming, texting away on your phone at—Nanami looked at the clock—11 p.m.

Now, now, he wasn't one who would be checking your phone or such, but he couldn't deny the curiosity within him, because you weren't usually texting anyone this late at night.

"Hehe~" suddenly, you giggled and Nanami glanced at you in wonder. You seemed to be having fun.

Who... are you texting?

Despite telling himself he wouldn't meddle in your affairs, he gruffly cleared his throat. "Dear, it's late."

"Oh?" you whipped your head to him. "Oh, yeah..."

You were genuinely confused, your husband was folding his face as if he was sour of something. "Kento? What's wrong?"

But suddenly, his face lit up into a smile, kind of forced though. "Ah, nothing..." And suddenly he lifted you up from the sofa, making you almost yelp as you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Time for bed."

However, what you didn't realize was that your phone's screen lit up just as the sender replied to your message, and Nanami caught a glimpse of it.

Ino.

A puppy is still a dog, you know~

The heck?

"Kento?" you asked again, and he immediately turned to you, unable to read the message. Still, his mind was reeling in many ways, and when he looked into your innocent, round eyes, suddenly he clicked his tongue, eyes slitting in dissatisfaction.

"Time for bed, dear."

Long story short, that night, your husband was somehow a little more aggressive than usual... even as he fondled you ever so softly at the end.

The third time, Nanami had enough.

He had just finished a mission when he got that call from Ino, informing him that you were at a clinic after nearly passing out.

Out of anyone else... how could you not call him first?!

He may be vexed, but worry was what clouded his mind the most. You were almost five months pregnant now, and to have this happening to you—

He walked in to find you lying on the small bed, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Kento..."

"What happened to you? Why didn't you call me?" his voice was rough, and your smile fell. You felt him gripping your hand tightly. "How can you—"

Ino, sensing his apprehension, suddenly intervened, "Uh, Nanami-san, it's not—"

Nanami turned to him sharply, causing him to gulp.

"We were... in a bakery when Y/N-san suddenly felt faint," the younger man explained. "Please don't be too hard on her."

"And why are you with my wife in broad daylight?"

"Kento, it's not what it looks like!" you squeezed his hand urgently. "We were just... trying to find a cake, you know..."

"...what?"

And that day, everything Nanami thought he knew was turned on its axis. Perhaps, if he wasn't thinking too much—if Gojo's words hadn't taken his mind, he wouldn't jump into conclusions this easily.

Your first wedding anniversary was just in a couple of weeks, and you had enlisted in Ino's help to find this one bakery that he swore sold only the best goods. Your texts to each other were solely about that—nothing more, nothing less.

"Aww, Kento~" you cooed as Nanami helped you into your shared bed once you got back home. "You got jealous, it's cute, and I'm happy~"

He huffed. "I was not jealous."

"Ehh, didn't look like that to me though~"

"Listen," he said, taking hold of your shoulders once he had seated you on the bed, looking straight into your eyes. "From now on, whatever you do... you have to contact me first, alright?"

"Oh—?"

"When you need something, when you don't feel well, when you feel like you might be in some kind of danger..." his tone was serious, emphasizing each word. "You have to reach out to me first. You don't go to Ino, Gojo, or anyone else—me. You go to me. I'm your husband, and I intend to fulfill that role well for you."

And he placed a hand on your tummy, gently caressing it. "And of course the father role for the baby too."

You clamped up, totally speechless. This unexpected development made your heart soar with a heap of giddiness.

"Yes!" Your smile was so wide and radiant that Nanami was sure he had started to blush too. Then you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "And you know... you're already the best husband and soon-to-be father ever! So you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"

Ah, how nice. Nanami chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

"Mhm, and from now on, I'll take charge of our anniversary. You only have to take it easy, alright?"

And when you giggled, he thought having you in his embrace like this was enough to satisfy him—after all, he was a simple man.

Epilogue

"I know even Nanami gets jealous! Heh, heh, heh~"

Gojo laughed crisply, and Shoko snorted as they listened to Ino recount the story, with the latter scratching his head uncomfortably.

"I really didn't mean anything, and now I feel kinda bad," the younger man said, his head dropping. "Nanami-san seemed upset too..."

"Not many things can get under his skin," Shoko remarked. "I really thought he'd be more rational, but having an expecting wife must've taken quite a toll on him too."

"Nah, don't find more excuses, Shoko! Now is time to pay up~!"

As Shoko grumbled and Ino was lost in his own thoughts, a loud cough suddenly echoed behind them.

"Gojo-san... Ieiri-san..." Nanami leveled his unamused gaze on them, his glasses glinting in the light, causing the two gulp. "What are you two doing?"

[neckromantics]

More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

~

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

~

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

~

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

~

Please, I beg. Give me more.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Business Talk || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: You listening to Rafe and Barry talk business on his yacht. (s3 ep6 inspired)

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, idk if theres anything else lmk

Word count: 1,323

A/n: another canon fic because im obsessed with writing these 😖 pls send me canon fic requests 🙏🙏

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

"Oh my God!" Barry yells out as you hastily pull away from Rafe, who groans in frustration, "Fuck, I thought we had more time." His head drops, leaning on your bare stomach, and you can't help but giggle as you reach over for your cover-up. Rafe sighs heavily, adjusting his pants with an annoyed expression.

"Damn, Rafe. Come on, Country Club," Barry calls out, his voice echoing through the boat as he makes his way upstairs to the top deck. "Bro, how are you gonna have this and not even tell me!" When he reaches the final step, he notices you lounging on one of the sofas, looking perfectly composed. You give him a warm smile. "Hey, Barry," you greet him politely.

"Princess," he says with a playful bow, making you giggle at his exaggerated behavior. He then turns back to Rafe, who is still frowning. "You got a whole damn YMCA up on this bitch, dude," Barry exclaims, his eyes darting around the luxurious boat. You sip your drink, watching Barry's antics with amusement.

"Barry, shut up, yeah?" Rafe shouts at him, clearly fed up with Barry's incessant chatter about the boat. Barry throws up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, we need to make a move," Rafe walks over to his shirt and puts it on. "That's all we do, bro. We been making moves. Haven't we, y/n?" Barry glances at you as you watch the two talk business.

"Yeah, well, we don't have much time," Rafe says, his tone serious as he walks over to you and holds out his hand. You look at his hand for a moment before meeting his intense gaze. "Yo, come down here," Rafe says to Barry, jerking his head toward the stairs.

You take Rafe's hand as he leads you toward the stairs, your fingers still interlocked. Barry follows behind, curiosity piqued. "You're not gonna believe this shit," Rafe mutters, his voice low and intense.

As you descend to the bottom deck, Rafe's focus remains unshaken. "You seen any buyers?" he calls out, his mind clearly on the gold. Barry, now settling down on the couch beside you, responds with a chuckle, "It's always business with you, bro. I mean, I don't always live like this." You kick your feet up on the table, relaxing as Rafe heads to the fridge. He rummages through its contents, finally emerging with a few beers and your favorite drink.

"I'm just saying we need to take this shit seriously," Rafe insists, his tone carrying a sense of urgency. He opens your drink with a swift motion and hands it to you, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Thanks," you reply softly, appreciating the small gesture. Barry observes the interaction with a raised eyebrow, then looks between you and Rafe with a smirk. "What? No princess treatment for me either?" he teases, pouting playfully at Rafe who rolls his eyes, “Get fucked.”

Barry clinks bottles with you after opening his beer, taking a swig and letting out a satisfied sigh. Moments later, Rafe returns, carrying a sleek black briefcase which he places on the table in front of Barry. You quickly adjust your feet as Barry's eyes widen in awe at the contents revealed inside. Your gaze meets Rafe's briefly before you lean forward, curiosity piqued.

"I should get a tooth made out of this, huh?" Barry quips, holding up a gleaming gold bar, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. You struggle to suppress a smile. "Look, don't be touching the shit. Just put it back," Rafe commands sternly, shooting Barry a look of irritation.

"Man, you're so paranoid. How do you put up with this shit, y/n?" Barry says, turning to you as he carefully replaces the gold bar. Rafe, exuding impatience, retorts, "I don't care about the cross. I'm trying to make money." He sits beside you, gently shifting your legs so they rest comfortably on his lap.

"I told you, my aunt, she got some contacts. She gonna help us move these little bitches," Barry reassures Rafe. Distracted by a sudden splash from the water nearby, you turn your head instinctively. Rafe notices your reaction immediately. "What is it?" he asks, concern threading through his voice. You rise from the couch, taking your sunglasses off as you move towards the edge to peer down at the water.

"Nothin'. Thought I heard something," you shrug, slipping on your sunglasses before returning to the sofa. "The gems, the nuggets, the whole damn melted enchilada!" Barry rambles on, his enthusiasm undeterred. "These gems are mint, man. The gold's bullion. We're selling it in bars, right? I'm not dealing with some half-assed pogue shit with some reject from Zales, bro."

Rafe's voice cuts through Barry's excitement, firm and cold. "Hey, watch how you're speaking about my aunt, dog," Barry retorts, scoffing. Rafe's hands, tense with stress, had already begun their way down your thighs, gripping them unconsciously. It was a telltale sign of his annoyance.

"I'm not talking about your aunt. I'm just saying, I don't fucking trust my shit with pogues," Rafe shrugs dismissively as you absentmindedly play with his rings.

Suddenly, your phone dings with a text message. Rafe leans over, grabbing your phone to hand it to you. Their chatter fades into the background as you focus on the message from your friend.

"Who is it, baby?" Rafe asks, removing his sunglasses as you show him your phone, reading the etext. "Barry, you gotta go, man," he says, watching you rise from the couch and slip off your cover-up.

"What? Why?" Barry protests, glancing between you and Rafe with confusion. Rafe sighs, his patience thinning. "Y/N's having her friends over for a girl’s day on the boat." Barry's eyes dart to you as you smile and nod. "That right? And I wasn't invited?" he says with mock offense, making you laugh.

"Next time, for sure," you assure him, still chuckling. Rafe, eager to get Barry off the boat, pats him on the back. "All right, time for you to go, bro. Good to see ya." "All right, all right, I'm going!" Barry concedes, standing up and making his way to the edge of the boat. "You have fun, Y/N!" he calls out, waving. "Bye, Barry!" you wave back with a smile.

As Barry leaves, Rafe's hands find your hips, fingers playfully tugging at the strings of your bikini bottoms. "Rafe!" you exclaim, swatting his hands away and retying the strings. "They'll be here soon." Rafe groans, "Why am I being cockblocked all day today." You smirk up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him in, "Later, I promise."

[runa-falls]

something new

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig

w/c: ~2k

a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix

----

You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.

“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.

You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.

Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!” 

“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble. 

“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.

His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest. 

You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too. 

Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.

“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?” 

“Y-yes...?”

He hums, turning his whole body to face you.

He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.

“Open up for me, baby.”

Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.

“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.

“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

You whine as you feel him pull away.

“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.

“Gimme a kiss, cariño.” 

You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his. 

A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."

And the intense mood breaks. 

You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.

Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating. 

You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.” 

Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.

You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.

Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more. 

Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.

Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes. 

The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.

“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours. 

You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.

“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans. 

He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.

“Wait.” 

His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.

“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.

The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”

You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.” 

He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.

He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.

Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you. 

Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you. 

 “No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening. 

“What-”

“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.

“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.

You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach. 

His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso. 

“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.

A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.

You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.

Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.

He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.

It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.

He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.

He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.

He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.

You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .

You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms. 

“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.

“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”

He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Love Me Again

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut

Exes to lovers - this was requested so I hope you like it!!

To be completely honest, Lando doesn't even know what happened that night one year ago. He knows very well that he drank too much, got drunk like never before and that the next day he lost you.

You came to his apartment and found a hair band in the bathroom that wasn't yours. Lando knew whose hair tie it was, but he tried to hide it from you and convince you that it was yours. Of course with that, he only made things worse. The fact that he decided to lie about it hurt you even more.

You threatened to leave him immediately if he didn't tell you what happened the night before and who spent the night in his apartment. It didn't take long for Lando to break down and tearfully tell you that one of his girl friends spent the night at his place after going out. The morning after, he barely remembered anything, but he could have sworn that he hadn't even kissed her, let alone slept with her.

His only fault was that he brought her with him to the apartment and let her sleep there, but even that was more than enough for you to break your heart into a thousand pieces.

You knew which female friend it was. You never even liked her and even though Lando always told you that you had no reason to be jealous, it annoyed you that she was throwing herself at him every chance she got when the two of you were together.

She was too close to him for your liking and then when you heard that she was the one who slept over at his place that night when he was dead drunk, it was over for you.

Lando cried, despaired, begged you to forgive him for months, trying to convince you that for him there was only you, but you couldn't get over your pride and forgive him. In the end, you even believed him that maybe there really wasn't anything between the two of them, but the trust was broken between the two of you and it couldn't be fixed anymore.

Since you two were together for two and a half years before you broke up, you were very close to his family. They adored you and considered you a member of the family. They couldn't believe that you broke up, even they begged you to forgive him, but even though you decided not to, you still remained on good terms with them and continued to hang out from time to time.

And just like that you found yourself on a huge luxury yacht celebrating Mila's third (idk how old is she??) birthday together with Lando and his family. It was a three-day celebration in the small circle of family and for the sake of that you decided to remain calm and behave normally around Lando.

It wasn't easy for you to be so close to him yet so far away. It was even worse for him, but he enjoyed having you around. Of course he tried in every way to reach you, approach you, talk to you, he did everything just to get your attention. From time to time he would succeed, you would find it funny how he tried everything, so you would give in and engage into a conversation with him.

On the last night, everyone went to bed pretty early because they were exhausted from celebrating, swimming and sunbathing for the past three days, but you weren't so exhausted, so you decided to stay in the lounge area of ​​the yacht and be with yourself for a while. The sky was beautiful, full of shining stars and the feeling was so peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment, but not for long because you were soon startled by none other than Lando's voice.

"You decided to sleep under the sky tonight?" He asked making himself comfortable on the sofa next to you.

"No, I was just enjoying looking at it."

"With your eyes closed?" He mocked.

"What else do you want other than to disturb my peace?" You roll your eyes sitting up from the lying position.

"I was very hot, so I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come here to the pool to cool off" He says looking at the pool in front of you.

"It's like" You take a look at your phone to check the time. "Almost 1 a.m. and you're going to get in the pool now?"

"Yeah, wanna join me?" He smirks.

"No, thank you." You laugh rolling your eyes at him again.

He gets up from the sofa and begins to remove his shorts, leaving only his boxers on. You were a little embarrassed and you didn't expect him to start undressing in front of you, so you cleared your throat and looked away.

"C'mon, it's nothing you haven't seen before, y/n" He mocks seeing how flushed your cheeks got.

"I'm going to my room, you have fun" You say getting up and fixing your oversized t-shirt that served as your night gown.

"No, come on, stay, keep me company." He pleaded before stepping into the pool. "Please?"

It didn't take long for him to persuade you to stay, because you secretly wanted to, you just didn't want to admit it so you sat down on the edge of the pool dipping your feet into the water as you watched him slowly threw himself in. Diving under the water he swam closer to you.

"You enjoying yourself?" You ask paddling your feet.

"It would be even better if you jumped in with me" He says placing his hands on the edge on either side of you.

"Not a chance" You resist pushing him a little with your feet. He chuckles biting his lip and taking your foot in his hand pulling you to himself a little.

"Lando, don't you dare" You warn him when you feel yourself slide down a little.

"You're not wearing any shorts?" He asks tilting his head to the side to peek under your t-shirt. You gasp quickly closing your legs and pulling your shirt down.

"You're so inappropriate, get away from me" You push his chest with your feet pushing him away from yourself only for to swim back to you again.

"Did you have any fun these past three days?" He asked curiously.

"I did, I have always enjoyed spending time with your family. It was good to see everyone again."

"Even me?"

You stop and sigh softly at his question not wanting to look him in the eye. it still hurts, stings. You'd be lying if you said you weren't glad to see him. You still love him after all, but you're still not sure if you want to forgive him.

"I'd rather not answer that"

He can't hide the hurt look in his eyes after your statement, but he also doesn't want to push you away from him by bringing certain topics up again.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but I had a talk with Mila today and she told me that I am all you talk about. She says it's getting too much even for her to listen to you" Lando being Lando, of course, turns everything into a joke just to lighten the mood. You can't help but burst out laughing at the nonsense that he was saying just to say something.

"There we go, that's the laugh I wanted to hear" You blush at his caring words hiding your face in your shoulder. He takes a risk and places his hands over your knees slowly pulling them apart to stand between them and you surprise both of you when you let him.

"Lando.." You sigh hesitantly when he slowly puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"Please, let me" Before you could even ask him let you what?, he pulled you down into the pool with him. You gasped and your skin crawled as the slightly cold water soaked your t-shirt making it clung to your body.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" You were breathing rapidly trying to grab the edge to get out, but Lando pulled you by your waist closer to his body.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay"

"You're completely crazy" Your mouth complains, but your body responds differently to his touch especially when he moves one of his hands from your hip to your leg making them wrap around his torso.

"That's better" He says quietly glancing at your lips. You have to admit you feel a little uncomfortable, especially with his lips less than two centimeters away from yours. You haven't been this physically close to each other in over a year and you've almost forgotten what it feels like to feel his skin on yours. "It's just me" He whispers and it somehow calms you down when you remember that it's Lando, your Lando.

"Lando, you can't do this.." You say, but wrap your arms around his neck hiding your gaze in the crook of his neck. Your gesture encourages him so he hugs you tighter and gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Baby, I miss you so much" Your heart trembles at his choice of words. "I'm losing my mind without you" His voice breaks when you look at him and he moves your hair out of your face. Your fingers make gentle circular motions over the back of his head as you press your foreheads together.

"I swear only hope that one day you'll love me again keeps me sane" He continues.

"I've never even stopped" You quietly confess.

Even if he tried, he couldn't describe the feeling of hearing that from your mouth. He felt as if he had come alive again after such a long time.

He couldn't hold back anymore, everything in him was dying to feel you, to kiss you so he crashed his lips against yours and kissed you the way you kiss a person you love more than your life, but haven't been able to touch in more than a year.

You didn't even think about resisting anymore, you gave in and kissed him back with the same force. He walked with your legs still wrapped around him to the edge of the pool pressing against you with your back against it. His hands quickly slipped under your shirt exploring your body again after so long enjoying the sound of your moans.

"Please..please tell me that no one..has touched you..no one but me" His voice was quivering as he tried to get the question out to which he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer to.

Lando was your first. First in everything basically. And he was so proud of it. He loved your innocence and the fact that no one had ever made you feel the way he did. You were all his and that's why he had a particularly strong protective feeling towards you. And he probably would lose his mind if he heard that someone else had touched something that only belonged to him.

"No one but you" You panted making him go feral.

His hands went under your butt gripping it before his fingertips moved your panties aside. He grinded his crotch into yours nibbling at the skin of your neck.

"Lan.." You moaned wanting more, but hating to ask for it. Luckily he knows your body like the back of his hand and knows what you need very well so he slipped his middle finger inside of you. One was soon replaced by two making you throw your head back giving him full access to bite and suck on your neck.

"Fuck.." He hissed as the aching feeling in his cock kicked in desperately needing to be touched. "Baby, I need to feel you or else I'm going to explode" He grunts.

"Let's get out of the pool, yeah? We can't fuck in here"

He lifted you up from the water sitting you onto the edge before getting out of the pool himself. You took off your wet shirt leaving yourself only in soaked panties and a bra. He looked you in from head to toe before pulling you to him and laying you down on the sofa hovering over you.

As he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung off you looked down at him with a slight concern in your gaze and he noticed it.

"What, baby? Is everything okay?" He asked leaning down to kiss you caressing your cheek.

"Yeah, it's just..it's been a while.." His gaze softened and he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead to calm you down.

"We'll take it slow, okay?" He assured you. He pulled down your bra taking your tits out and attaching his lips around your nipples and with every passing second of him doing so you were getting wetter and wetter. He then took his cock in his hand rubbing his tip over your pussy up and down a few times hissing at the sensation.

He stopped at the center and felt you getting nervous as your breathing quickened. "It's alright, baby, I know you want this, I can feel how wet you are. I'll go slow, I promise."

He slowly pushed the tip in planting kisses along your jawline to distract you from the pain. He pushed a little further and you squeezed your eyes whimpering and holding your hands against his chest.

"It hurts Lan, it's too big.." You cried out trying to close your legs so he put his hand on your cheek gently caressing it. It took everything in him not to cum right away at you complimenting his length.

"Shh, I know, baby, but you have to let me in okay? We'll make it fit, yeah? Like we always used to" He cooed you pushing your legs further apart. "Just a little bit more and it's fully in. You can take it, love, I know you can."

Little by little and he pushed all of himself in staying still until you felt comfortable enough for him to move. "That's it, just like that, baby, always such a good girl for me" He was so impatient to fuck you, to cum all over or inside you it didn't matter to him, but he decided to take his time with you because he wanted you to feel good above everything else.

Once the pain was replaced by the feeling of pleasure, he started thrusting in deep and fast stretching you out in the way only he knew how. When you felt confident enough you wrapped your legs around his torso to push him even deeper.

"Does it feel good?" He asked and you nodded. "This reminds me so much of that time I fucked you on the couch in my parent's house."

"Ohh, Lando” You moaned.

"Where anybody could've walked in on us and see me pounding you from behind. Fuck, you have no idea how much this turns me on.." He groaned.

"I missed all of you, missed fucking you, feeling you squeeze my cock, playing with your pussy, oh" His words were coming out as broken sobs struggling to last as long as possible. "I feel you clenching are you almost there, love?"

"So close"

"Yeah? You're drenching my cock baby. You're so tight, fuck, I'm gonna cum in seconds."

"Ohh..yes yes, ahh"

"Oh shit baby.." Once he saw you slide you hand down to your clit and start playing with it, he lost it. His body shuddered, his cock twitched inside you and he came undone. He kept moving slowly until both of you rode out your orgasms.

When both of you came to your senses he started hugging you and kissing you as if you were going to run away every second. You leaned your head to the side and watched him smiling.

"So..does this mean you're mine again?" He asks tracing his fingertips over your collarbones.

"It does not, but" You emphasize. "If you try a bit harder maybe you can change my mind"

"Understood. Let's get you cleaned up for round two then"

"Lando, that's not what I meant…”

[lovegasmic]

What about curseless modern au JJK, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami and Sukuna proposing to you?

 𝜗𝜚 HOW THEY PROPOSE

─── . all jjk ( adult ) men x gn!reader

꒰ fluff : curseless au but Satoru is still Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara's teacher , mamaguro canon : you're Toji's second spouse , added choso bc why not ꒱ ★ taglist

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SATORU

A nice candlelit dinner under the soft glow of moonlight is the least you can expect from a man like Satoru Gojo, who has never been a stingy guy in his life, much less with you, his beloved.

it was a little strange to have his students decide to accompany you that day, with suspicious faces except for Megumi, but you ignore it, almost used to the teenager’s antics, going along with the young people who obviously want to keep you nice and distracted.

“oh, look, why don’t we go over there?” Yuuji suspiciously speaks, followed by Nobara’s agreement in the same forced tone, almost dragging you towards the secluded spot where you first met Satoru, quite near jujutsu tech and a few steps into a forest that now had light strings all around a small clearing, the grass covered in a bunch of flower petals and of course, your boyfriend standing in the middle with a wide grin and a slight nervous fidgeting of his fingers behind his back.

“you look perfect” his words are quite rough with held back emotions, coming to hold onto your hand and scanning your outfit with loving eyes, you knew it was suspicious that Nobara decided to go shopping and demanded you wear something new that day.

the guys are no longer behind you, but you feel their eyes hidden behind some trunks as Satoru kneels with a glowing diamond ring, reciting what you believed was a speech he has been preparing for multiple days. and even though you kind of expected, the tears are also quick to come as you now fiance slides the ring on your finger and gives you a deep kiss, just the rustling of leaves and a camera click on the background.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SUGURU

the cozy apartment you shared with your boyfriend was pitch black as soon as you opened the door, strange, since you often got home to find him lounging on the sofa with a loose shirt and pants, but “Sugu, why is everything so...” your words get cut at the faint glow coming from the living room, deciding to just follow it instead of wasting breath since your boyfriend was utterly quiet.

scattered candles greet you here and there, almost as in a trail to guide you to where Suguru stands with... a suit, “what are you—” once again, you trail off as your eyes land on the beautifully decorated table for two Suguru has set, with a few of your favorite pastries and a home cooked dinner.

“welcome home” his smile is soft like always, although his eyes sparkle even more, or was it just adoration? none of that matters when Suguru approaches, helping you leave your belongings aside next to your jacket he gently takes off your shoulders.

you’re a bit speechless at this point, staring at Suguru with confusion, yet he never acknowledges the elephant in the room, simply giving you smiles and not a single word, not until you’re both finished with dinner and is now helping you up from your seat, barely giving you time to part your lips before he is already kneeling, eyeing you at you with those soft eyes of his.

“i love you” is what he murmurs first, leaving a kiss on your hand before caressing the skin, almost mindlessly, trying to take every detail of you, “i knew you were the one for me ever since we met, and I can’t imagine my life without anyone else but you” the raw honesty and love makes your breath hitch, a few tears blocking your eyes before Suguru is grinning at your eager nod once he finishes speaking, the elegant but minimalist band now laying on your finger, a prove of his undying love.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  TOJI

after his wife died, Toji never even considered getting married again, until he met you. and to be honest, at the beginning of your relationship he was not even sure it would last long, not because of you, you are like a ray of sunshine filtering through the cracks of his soul, managing to wiggle a way in, making yourself at home; but because of him, of his unsteady and troubled life style alongside an almost 12 year old Megumi.

the idea bugged him for a while now, staying awake while you peacefully slept next to him, blissfully unaware of Toji’s inner worries.

mentally cursing himself as he gently starts to rock you to consciousness, “wake up, doll, I need to ask you something” his voice is gruff, waiting until you’re fully awake before talking with a hand on your shoulder and a thumb on your neck, “do you want to get married?”

and you have to blink a few times before muttering a “...what?” if that was a proposal, it was truly unexpected, “now?”

“... why not?”

“toji?!”

"answer” his thumb is a bit rougher now, sliding up and down the side of your throat, eyes locked on your skin, “i want to know”

“of course I want to” you say without hesitation, nuzzling onto the man’s rough and big palm, “i’d love to marry you”

one, two breathings and Toji nods, pulling you against his chest, “okay”

“...okay? that’s it?” you grumble muffled by his chest.

a deep chuckle coming from Toji makes your face vibrate “we’re going to the city hall tomorrow”

“with Megumi”

“with Megumi, of course”

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  KENTO

you were eternally grateful that Kento finally decided to take some vacations with you, knowing how overworked your boyfriend was and how much he adored the beach, you booked a nice and cozy beach hut for the week. you considered it to be a wonderful surprise to help you him destress, not really expecting the one getting surprised were you as well.

the first few days were like a dream come true, Kento was finally loose and those eye bags were gone, giving the blonde a younger look and a never falthering smile on his face.

two days left of vacation and Kento came back from the reception with a grin, “the guide told me about a nice private path along the beach, do you want to go?” and how could you refuse. hand in hand and footless walking along the shore, the warm sand feeling nice under your feet before coming onto a particular spot secluded from the rest.

the sun was starting to set, creating a beautiful glow on your skin that made Kento stare in awe, coming to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a gentle kiss on your neck, “i need to ask you something”

his words are slow and soft, almost as if caressing your ears, gently caressing the skin of your arms and stomach, not getting enough of your touch while reciting his undying love towards you, giving you merely a second to process his words before you’re greeted by the sight of his kneeling form, shorts slightly dirty with sand and his blue shirt half open and flowing with the wind. you really, really have to be out of your mind if you even considered refusing your perfect lover’s proposal.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  CHOSO

picnics with Choso were a tradition, having found an apartment to share next to a park was just as if sent for the both of you.

so you’re now lounging on a blanket, laying on your back while Choso rummages through the picnic basket, casually hearing a choked cough coming from him.

“baby, are you okay?” you ask with concern, shielding your eyes from the sun to stare at the man with slightly pink cheeks.

“yeah, fine don’t worry, love” Choso smiles, pushing the ring box deep into the basket, both thanking and cursing Yuuji for reminding him about the detail, but also not happy by his little brother’s lack of subtleness.

it takes him a few minutes to calm down his erratic heartbeat before laying down next to you, propped up in an elbow before holding your hand and pressing a kiss on the palm, successfully catching your attention, “you look beautiful”

“you look really handsome too” your smile is comforting and all Choso needs to continue, allowing your hand to cup his cheek before using his own to hold it tight against the heated skin, eyes fluttering closed slightly with a soft sigh.

“i was thinking about something...” he starts, gently nuzzling onto your palm, “you know I love you... i love you so much and I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life...” his eyes finally meet yours, giving you a tiny yet nervous smile, “i want you to marry me... if you want, of course, what I mean is... would you marry me?”

some people say grand proposals are better, but for you, nothing could ever beat the gentle private tone in your boyfriend’s voice, the way his eyes lit up at your yes, and how his hands trembled subtly while sliding the finger him he got you.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SUKUNA

your boyfriend’s power was slightly scary sometimes, like, how did he even manage to book a whole restaurant?!

“welcome, Mr. Sukuna” your ears are used to those words coming from every single worker at the restaurant, starting from the valet, the receptionist and now the waiters and waitress lining up to allow you to make your way, with an arm looped around your boyfriend’s larger one.

“what’s all this?” you ask the man once you’re both comfortably sitting down, a violinist playing in a corner, “is something important happening?”

Sukuna just shrugs, leaning back against his own chair like he owned the place, with a smirk on his face, but deep down you knew he was hiding something, he was not being his usual self, “can’t I spoil you for once?”

“you spoil me every day”

he clears his throat, pretending not to hear that one last sentence before focusing on the menu, so you let it slip, for now, or at least until after dinner.

but he is still nervous, still fidgeting with the cutlery and glass of wine.

“Sukuna?” he, surprisingly jolts slightly as you catch his attention, “is there anything you need to tell me?”

fully expecting for him to refuse everything, not to watch him stand up and walk right next to your chair, there’s another clear of his throat, a change of weight onto the other feet, now he’s fixing his tie and sliding a hand through his hair, “Sukuna...”

“fuck” he grumbles, finally landing on his knee in front of you and placing both of your hands on his, a bit too solemn, “i...” he mutters your name, swallowing thickly, “through my whole life...”

“don’t force it” you help with a smirk.

“the brat said I need to impress you” Sukuna finally sighs, resting his forehead against your thigh, “or else you wouldn’t want me” so it was that, and you can’t help and chuckle.

“Kuna... i do, I want to marry you”

there it was, you being the sweet mind reader you were, helping your man with poor communication skills. that’s exactly why he fell for you, and now, almost proposing too.

[oukabarsburgblr]

Dearest Husband [Consort AU] Pt. II

FEATURING : PRINCE DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x CONSORT male reader

Disaster comes to rain on our beloved couple. Feelings, ego and pride crashing together and in the midst of it all Daisuke stands firm to fight for the person of his desires. How would it end? Would he be able to finally declare his affections for his convenient wedded husband? His back turned against the world, (m/n) surpressing his feelings, hidden from sight. Will our prince win in the war of love?

17k words of something. no spoilers, proceed at ur own risk, part 1, profile

Find out more under the cut!

Three months had passed….

And our beloved prince of the Eastern Empire, Daisuke Yuichi, could say he was content with his life. His body was great, the people were well, his preparations for ascension was still ongoing and delayed on his part. His marriage especially, was the highlight of his life.

The moans were not discrete, a sultry (h/c) clinging onto the prince, clenching his outer coat while roughly making out with him. Daisuke held onto his waist, one of his hands slowly cupping his ass as he thrusted his tongue inside the consort. (m/n) sucked his tongue, teasingly biting it as they continued their rough affair. They had been taking a walk, in Daisuke’s private garden in the Grand Palace when one of them randomly decided they needed a fresh face fuck.

Luckily, the Royal Palace itself was massive, holding many estates across numerous acres of land. The highlights were the Grand Palace, where the royals resided, Daisuke’s office, the treasury, the throne hall were located. The second but still as grandeur was the Emerald Palace. Its main function was to act as the living quarters of the emperor’s harem, but after the birth of Daisuke Yuichi, his father, the current emperor had divorced all of his spouses except for the previous emperor.

It holds beautiful castles, the famous greenhouse, small lakes with boats and regularly social outdoor parties was held there, Currently, the lavish consort of the crown prince, (m/n) (l/n) became the sole tenant of the Emerald Palace, to which he had secretly waivered the loyalties of its attendants to his reign, Daisuke had suspicions but he would let his favourite and only consort to do so.

Speaking of the consort, their relationship had improved drastically. (m/n) would visit his chambers every three days, and Daisuke visiting his every two. During the day, the (h/c) could be found lounging in Daisuke’s office, not even bothering him or snooping around but to sleep, read, or doing his own hobbies.

Seeing how often (m/n) would lay in front of the fireplace, Daisuke had a custom maroon sofa, with golden stands and plush armchairs, soft padding and an abundant of pillows so his consort could drape himself over the furniture however he’d like. He was satisfied just watching from his desk, how the (h/c) would munch on sweets, flipping a page from his book and he caught himself smiling so often embarrassingly.

They have yet to own a shared room in the Grand Palace, that was reserved for the position of the emperor and his own spouses, so they resorted to have their enticing affairs in Daisuke’s chambers. He adored making love to the (h/c), they were extremely compatible in bed. With Daisuke’s passion and (m/n)’s lust combined, many pleasurable nights had passed, although at the expense of the passing attendants, Daisuke’s knight hates them now.

The aftermath was sweet, he found the (h/c) would cling to him, desperate for skin-to-skin contact as grounding after their mind-shattering sex and he would provide comfort. Wrapping his arms around the consort protectively before drifting off to sleep.

However, he noted that at times, the consort was cold. Sleeping by facing the other way, and when he inquired the (h/c) would brush him off dismissively and Daisuke would just silently hug him from behind. The day after, (m/n) would pretend like that little bit didn’t happen, acting like his usual self. They didn’t have much pillow talk, (m/n) rejected the idea as he shushed him to enter their slumber.

He wasn’t sure how he felt, something had festered in his heart. After their rough consummation, he would see (m/n) walk around with a medical patch on the back of his neck, where he had bitten his nape. Daisuke felt extremely guilty and would dress him in lavish to satisfy his guilt. Had his guilt dragged behind him for this long?

Every time he’d gazed over the consort, when the (h/c) wasn’t looking, there was a longing in his heart, just to wrap his hold around (m/n) affectionately.

He thought his marriage would only be one of peace, but he didn’t expect himself to fall…

Fallen. Bewitched? He brushed the thought off of his mind, not wanting to be dizzy for much longer as he placed down the quill on his desk.

Stacks of letters, invites from other powerful houses, some foreign, mostly his subjects, and invite to their own parties, social events and some even included details of potential suitors, mostly daughters of dukes and counts. Ever since he married (m/n) (l/n), it seemed that the public thought he was open to a harem, given the fact that him and (m/n) couldn’t produce an heir.

His emotions that once fluttered around the (h/c), brewed fire in his heart as he burned the letters, throwing it into the crackling flame as fuel for the hearth, He looked behind him to see the consort sleeping in his designated sofa, a soft blanket loosely draped over his figure.

Daisuke walked over to the (h/c), his steps silent as he crouched in front of the sleeping consort’s face. His eyes glazed over the consort’s features, his eyes, his lips and even to the bridge of his nose…

He pondered how could such a being could appear so beautiful in his eyes, heavenly, bewitching, distinguished and so many words in all of the dictionaries couldn’t even describe how majestic he was to the prince.

Nightfall was encroaching and usually he would carry the consort in his arms, letting him sleep in his room, but he wanted to be selfish this time. Fully absorbing, sketching and engraving this memory into his mind.

It seemed he had taken too much of (m/n)’s whine, who had awakened, stretching his arms and lazily blinking his drowsy eyes. “…Princey?” Daisuke chuckled, now kneeling on the carpet. “Morning, sleeping beaut’.” “…Is it actually morning?” The consort propped himself, glancing at the uncovered windows before dropping himself back on the sofa, seeing that it was actually night instead.

“You sure took your time.” “I am quite tired today…” (m/n) mumbled, covering his face with his arm. Daisuke raised an eyebrow at his ironic statement. “Tired? And here I was, dying at my desk. If I had been pronounced dead, you’d probably be on your third nap.”

“Not my fault.” The (h/c) groggily whacked his shoulder. “I want to sleep more…” He was in a daze, rolling himself off the couch, the prince calmly catching him in his arms and in the safety blanket of Daisuke Yuichi, (m/n) (l/n) dropped his whole bodyweight on his husband.

“You’re heavy. Have you been gaining weight?’ Daisuke kissed the consort, teasing him and instead earning a slap, playful but the message was received, and he laughed, the (h/c) trying to clamber away from him but the prince held him tight, screaming apologies into his ear.

“I’m hungry.” (m/n) stated, his stomach grumbled following their short wrestle. Daisuke was hugging him from behind, both of them tangled in the blanket on the carpeted floor.

“Want to have dinner? I can call your favourite chef to be on duty.”

(m/n) thought about it for a moment, before shaking his head. “I just want to have a snack. And get drunk.” Daisuke thought back to when the last time the (h/c) got drunk. They ended making out in one of the trees in the garden at the dead of night. How did the consort managed to convince him? God knows. It was probably the profound bias he had for the (h/c).

“…I can take you to my favourite tavern. It’s on the outskirts of town. The place is safe, with good drinks.” “Sold.” “We’d have to disguise ourselves, however. And that means, leaving all your jewellery behind.”

There was a mocking grumble, copying his speech from the consort. Daisuke only rolled his eyes, “This is how you get caught so easily. Come on.” He heaved himself up, pulling the consort with him as they get dressed blandly, hiding under the hood of their cloaks.

Daisuke had remembered something, quickly snatching one of his small wooden boxes and shoving the item inside his vest before joining the (h/c) at the gates, only a few guards accompanying them with a less lavish carriage that carried no insignia of their royalty as they traversed to town.

It took a while for them to arrive, a bustling tavern with customers in and out of its entrance, most of them leaving with a drunken flush on their faces. Daisuke held (m/n)’s hand as he stepped off the carriage, making sure their hoods were intact and waving at his guards, them nodding and getting into position to guard the place. Usually, Daisuke wouldn’t bring so many personnel with him, only him and his knight would do but since (m/n) was with him, a little extra security wouldn’t hurt.

The two entered the tavern, made their way to an empty table and called for a servant for their orders. A woman, who seemed to be in her late 20s and dressed a bit too exposed for the cold night took their orders and winked at the (h/c). A foreigner was always deemed attractive to the commonfolk.

(m/n) just laughed at the annoyed prince as their orders arrived, the consort immediately chugging the big glass of alcohol in front of him. “You said you don’t drink often.” Daisuke placed one of the tidbits into his mouth, staring at the dazed consort.

“I don’t…” His words were slurred. “But when I do, I drink hard.”

“…Whatever that means.” Daisuke stopped (m/n) from slapping his glass off the table as he pulled out the wooden box from earlier. “I thought this would be an appropriate time to present to you something…although I’m not sure you’re even sane enough to interpret my words.”

(m/n) wrinkled his nose, his face heating up from the alcohol as he slammed his fist on the table. “Hit me.” The prince only chuckled at his antics as he placed the small chest on the table, sliding it to the (h/c). “Open it.”

He grabbed the box, fiddling with the lock for a moment before managing to open its contents. The box itself was small, he thought he was about to receive another set of earrings from the prince but instead there was a skeleton key.

A pure bronze ornate key, with red highlights around the stem, a sharp bit and a small gem latched in the middle of the bow. (m/n) scanned the key confusingly. “…Is this supposed to unlock a bigger present or…?”

“You could say that.” Daisuke seemed excited, for his reaction it seemed, as he pulled out a cylinder leather case and (m/n) wondered how multifunctional his garments was. The (h/c) popped the cap off and shook out the scroll inside. He pinched the edges with his hands as he tried to make sense of the wordings of the paper.

“…A deed?” “Your summerhouse is complete.”

The (h/c) raised his hand at the smiling prince, who seemed like a child, giddy to give a present. “Summerhouse?” “The one you wanted. Beside a lake near the borders, took a while for construction to finish. Of course, that is the key to the gates instead of the mansion itself since the furbishing needed to be done along with a stampede of servants for maintenance.”

The villa that (m/n) had requested way back. Even after he received the treasure chest for the prince, he didn’t continue forward with his plans. Not after the whole incident.

“…But why?” The consort seemed confused, examining the key in his hand before Daisuke grasped his other.

“Consider it my first gift to you as my husband.” With that, the prince kissed the back of his hand, pressing his lips gently onto his skin. (m/n) was still stunned. There were so many presents the prince had gifted to him, but this was far more outstanding than any other.

“…I’m so confused.” “Do you not like the present?” “I do. It’s just…”

(m/n) didn’t finish his sentence, instead downing more alcohol into his system as he placed the key back into the box. Daisuke didn’t press further, the (h/c)’s flustered expression was more than enough to satisfy him.

They continued to drink, (m/n) ordering more than he could handle and it ended up with him hugging the prince at his waist as they exited the tavern. The alcohol was a rush, a good chunk of it in their system and it led to the consort whispering to the prince he needed him as they had a frisky amour in the moving carriage.

After sloppily covering up themselves, they continued in Daisuke’s bedroom, the prince thrusting into the consort, both with drunken pleasure. Daisuke held the headboard of his bed, caging the (h/c) under him as he came inside (m/n) missionary. He plopped himself on top of the consort unceremoniously, (m/n) whining about his sensitive hole still clenching around his cock.

The prince rolled off of him, laying by his side, basking in the afterglow of their misdemeanours. (m/n) sighed heavily, feeling full as he pulled the duvet beside him up to his chest. Daisuke turned to his husband and brushed the strands of hair out of his sweaty face. He gently pulled the (h/c) closer to him and closed his eyes, prepared to drift off to sleep.

“…I don’t understand…”

He opened one of his eyes, in the dark room, barely anything could be seen but it was evident the (h/c) was still drunk, Daisuke having a higher tolerance from his poison resistance buildup, and he was mumbling in a daze. “What do you not understand?” He simply entertained the intoxicated fool.

He smoothened the (h/c) hair, tucking it behind (m/n)’s ear as he inched closer to the consort. “…Whether do you have…an attraction for me…or is it to simply keep the peace.”

Keeping the peace? Even Daisuke couldn’t fully fathom what the mumbling consort was trying to transpire. “…Of course I have an attraction for you. Who wouldn’t?”

An idiot. He thought. Only an idiot wouldn’t fall for him.

“…This peace we have…it’s grounding me together…my sanity…”

(m/n) groggily creaked his eyes open.

“If I had truly been your preference, you wouldn’t have scrapped the idea of your beloved fairytale.”

With that, the (h/c) sank his head into the lush pillow, pushed into the realm of dreams. In contrast with the prince, his statement hit him like a brick. “My fairytale…” He thought back to before. There was only once where he had brought it up, but it had been so long back.

He felt restless, something aching in his heart, but he remained silent, drifting away to sleep.

In his mind, he wondered if he was slowly being smitten by the consort. There was a chance of it happening of course, they had been wed together but the impact was strong, he never felt anything like this in his life. And to think he cares so much about his consort.

His hold around the (h/c) remained strong as he subjected his mind into the abyss.

-

After that night, he found that the consort wouldn’t come to his office as often, distancing himself from the prince albeit his protests claiming that everything was alright. Daisuke felt a cold clench in his chest. As if there was a wall, slowly building up between him and his consort, every time he had become vulnerable, (m/n) would distance himself away. It pained Daisuke to see him hurt. He didn’t want that for both of them.

Maybe if he had spoken more, both of them would be much more open with each other.

Alas, all he could was to wait for the storm in (m/n)’s heart to subside. He had been patient with his bratty behaviour in the past, he can wait for him to mentally recover as long as he’d liked.

It had been a week and a half since, as much as Daisuke would like him to recover, his heart was longing for the consort. So, he decided to visit him alone in the Emerald Palace. The guards stationed there bowed to him, letting him pass with him requesting that they do not announce his arrival, it was a good decision to switch the paladins. Ones that are much more loyal to him.

He had heard that the (h/c) was strategically integrating himself into the Eastern society, mingling with the wives of the powerful, attending balls and parties, as per Ivan had reported to him. Although he was a bit sulky that he wasn’t tagged along, he could invite him to theirs. A ball at the Grand Palace, orchestrated for the holiday in the East. It would be good for him to show off his consort to the nobles.

Cue the yelling and pleadings, snagging Daisuke’s attention as he immediately ran through the halls, reaching (m/n)’s room where there were butlers and maids crowding around the door. The prince pushing himself through and as they noticed him, they all exclaimed, urging him not to enter.

As he pushed the doors open, there were two guards, carefully approaching the (h/c), whose hand was bloody, a stark red in contrast to the mint marble floor. “Your Grace! Please just-!”

“I said LEAVE! LEAVE ME ALONE!!” The knight swiftly avoided an ornament box thrown into his direction, he didn’t hear the shattering of the impact on the floor, so he turned to see-

“You…why are you here…” (m/n) scowled, his teeth gritting, clenching his soaked fist.

Daisuke frowned, his eyebrows furrowed as he ordered the guards to leave. He scanned the (h/c)’s frenzied state, his outer coat tossed somewhere else and his red-coated hand.

“What happened?” He stated firmly, stepping to the consort.

The (h/c) defensively stepped back, behind him was his vanity, broken with a large crack in the middle. The table itself was a mess, he presumed the consort had used it to shoo away the knights. “You don’t need to know.” (m/n) seethed.

“Why are you hurt?” “Leave.” He stepped closer. “(m/n), I’m trying to help-“ “LEAVE!”

“I’m NOT LEAVING! Goddammit (m/n)-!” For every step he took forward, every step the (h/c) backed away, pressing himself against one of the shelves, leaving bloody trails on the furniture from his hand.

It seemed the consort was desperate enough, he started to chuck things to him as well, Daisuke swiftly avoided the barrage of intricate, one of them was a fucking vase holy shit-, and he was closer to the destructive, pained (h/c). “You’re hurt. You’re bleeding for fuck’s sake- I’m not leaving you like this.”

A raw sob tore from (m/n)’s throat, tears slipping down his cheeks as he exclaimed to the prince once again. “Please…I told you to leave!” It was a short altercation, one that involved Daisuke quickly restraining (m/n), holding his wrists together. The consort screamed, kicked and yelled at him, all with his bleeding hand and wet cheeks. This was the worst state Daisuke had ever seen.

He struggled with the consort’s hysteria, ultimately pushing him against the walls, caging him with himself. (m/n) seemed to be out of breath, still crying with his hands held together above his head. Daisuke gazed into his avoiding eyes, worriedly.

“…you’re in pain. Let me help you.”

True to his words, aside from the bloody hand, (m/n) was very much in pain. The (h/c) stared at the floor, silently sobbing. His tears falling from his lower lashes. “…you can’t help me…you’re going to cast me aside…”

“I wouldn’t. I would never.” Leaving the consort was the last thing on his mind. How could he possibly abandon the man he held dear in his heart.

“You will.” (m/n) scoffed, he coughed into the air, his throat aching. “You ought to be a trashy bastard like all the others-!”

“Who?! Who fed this mindset to you?!” He knew (m/n) recently came back from a jamboree, his garments were also an indicator. Did something happen at one of the parties?

“Who dared to ruin you like this!”

“…” (m/n) was quiet, at first. He mumbled nimbly, before finally dropping his bodyweight down, slowly sliding himself to sit on the floor. The prince followed suit, kneeling and sitting onto his own calves, his tight grip was replaced with a gentle hold on the consort’s hands, his eyes silently examining the blood before returning back to the consort who began to tell, confiding in his beloved husband.

-

(m/n) silently sipped from his wine glass, there were chattering all around at the beautifully lit party. It had been another aristocrats’ gathering, and he was invited so by the host, the Countess, the Earl’s wife and she was a pleasant old woman who treated him like most of the peerage. Curiosity and flatter, complimenting him trying to curry his favour and overall, an attempt to get closer to the crown prince since the emperor was known to be closed off regarding his sole heir.

Many people had gone up to him, either to chat or to tease and (m/n) rebutted it with his own charm, having been used to witty remarks especially during his time in the West. Later in the party, he spent some time alone, drinking to himself, rejecting any company.

Until one of them was bold enough to approach him.

It was an old man, dressed wisely and formally. (m/n) recognised him to be one of the ministers as he bowed his head to the consort. He had a look in his eyes the (h/c) recognised. Something scheming and devious mixed together behind a veil of unconcealed flagrant.

He responded little to the older one’s chat, only speaking when he needed to when a remark slipped out of his mouth.

“You are one arrogant little cunt.”

“…Excuse me?” (m/n) raised an eyebrow, already feeling heated in his head. Who had dared to speak to him in such a manner? The old man only smiled, his slanted eyes glaring at the consort. “I’m sorry, did my tongue slip? I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

“…” (m/n) knew what he had heard, and he wasn’t going to accept this disrespect to his face. He wanted to leave until another approached them, and another, and another until there were many men surrounding him, all dressed in similar attires that was forcing him into a corner.

“I want to leave-“

“It seemed the rumours were true.”

“No wonder the Western Emperor despised him.”

They all ignored him, standing firm in front of him as (m/n) felt he got backed into a corner. He gritted his teeth and yelled for a guard, but the barrage of nuisance prevented him so.

Pointed jabs, back handed compliments were passed. He was scrutinized to his face while the men acted like he wasn’t there. As if they were dissecting him down to his bone, judging his background and reputation present in the kingdom.

“What a wicked man.”

“He’d bring only downfall to our kingdom.”

“A pest, rooted in the rich, clean East.”

“Someone needs to cut him down.”

“Slice him.”

“Burn his defences, let him rot in the mountains.”

“What does the crown prince see in him? There’s so many like him in the cathouse.”

Amidst the passing comments, (m/n)’s patience was ripped from his head.

“…you’d think I give a fuck?” He stared at the man who had originally approached him. “I don’t care how much you try to scheme or attempt to intimidate me. I am the consort, husband of the crown prince.”

(m/n) scoffed at them. “Your precious prince favours me and that is a fact in itself.”

The old man stared back at him with a scowling glare. “You’re a pest to the kingdom…I presume you’re aware.”

The (h/c) only scoffed, smirking at him. “And what about it?”

“The harem is open. And you are unable to produce an heir. How long do you think you would be the sole keeper of the prince’s heart?”

And that hit the consort like a brick.

“I- “

“The kingdom needs an heir. The bloodline must be kept.”

“It doesn’t matter-“ He tried to counter but again flooded with remarks.

“It doesn’t matter to you. You are not of this kingdom. You are not our people, but we. We need a monarch. And if it wouldn’t come from you, it will come from another.”

“It’s about time the crown prince expanded his harem.”

(m/n) didn’t know why, but that sentence struck him the most. He had punched the man who had uttered those words, knocking him to the ground. Gasps of shock from other guests and the (h/c) was pulled away by his own guards. The trail of the men previously disassembled into the crowd, feigning innocence and the victim of his fist insisted he was dandy, that he was at fault for angering the consort, painting him as a hot-blooded bastard.

The consort left the party, not in the mood to converse any further despite the countess’ pleas. He returned to his chambers, tugging off his coat and the maids were preparing a bath for him since his return was at a short notice.

The (h/c) stared at the vintage rectangular mirror in front of him, gazing into himself, his furious expression looking back. The servants exchanged looks, some of worry and some of curiosity. (m/n) was too busy in his own thoughts to even reprimand them.

How long had he been the prince’s lover? No. Not lover. He couldn’t possibly be the object of his desires. If at most, then bedwarmer would be a better fitting for a heel like him.

The prince, his touch, his gaze, would he have to share them with someone else? A woman, perhaps. Someone able to carry his offspring.

It doesn’t matter. He thought, a pitiful attempt at convincing himself. It shouldn’t matter. Why would the prince’s love life be a meddling of his own? He’s satisfied with the things they are now. He’s supposed to be.

“How long do you think you would be the sole keeper of the prince’s heart?”

…did he even had a chance to embrace his love? Was there ever a moment that the prince, Daisuke, had shown his affection for him, without him thinking about the setbacks. Barely.

“…that fucking…”

Fairytale. Daisuke’s stupid fairytale. The one he told (m/n), the one where he expressed, he didn’t get to relive. A love story. Weren’t theirs supposed to become the upbringing of one? Was he so demure in the prince’s eyes that he wasn’t worthy of a possibility to fall for him?

“-Your Grace, the bath is read-“

A scream erupted from the girl, and (m/n) realised his knuckles were bleeding, and the mirror in front of him had broken.

“…Get out.”

“But Your Grace-!” “I said GET OUT!”

-

Not long after, Daisuke had arrived and that was how the whole commotion happened. Currently, they were alone, (m/n) sitting against a wall and Daisuke holding his bloody hand gently in his. He made sure there were no specks of glass in his knuckles.

The (h/c) had told him everything that happened at the party, except the aftermath, he didn’t confide of his troubling feelings regarding the prince.

“Who?” That was his first question uttered to the consort. “Who were they?” His voice bristled with anger, his composure gone with a gaze that was demanding an explanation from the consort, one that (m/n) didn’t return.

The words hung heavy in the air, laced with conflict. “…I don’t want to think about it any longer.” “(m/n), you need to tell-“ “I need to cool off…I need to think to myself.”

Daisuke’s expression slumped into a deep frown. The consort seemed so fragile, as if he could break at any moment. “I’ll-“ “By myself…I need to recollect myself.”

It seemed at the moment (m/n) finally registered the pain in his hand, causing him to wince in agony. As Daisuke gently held his wrist, taking out the cloth from his pockets to wrap around the wound. “If you let a doctor tend to your wounds, I’ll leave you for the day.” He gently kissed the now-wrapped hand. “But I’ll come to see you in the night.”

(m/n) stared at him for a moment, a blank look in his eyes before muttering. “Do what you like.”

And so, the sequence of events unfolded. A healer came to tend to the consort, maids came in to clean up the aftermath and Daisuke left. His gaze fixated at the closing door, but it wasn’t returned, (m/n)’s eyes downwards as he shut the tall doors in the prince’s face. Daisuke lingered for a moment before taking his leave. He requested Ivan to find the list of attendees of the countess’ party and asked him to send a mail to personally request for an audience with the Earl and his wife.

He wasn’t sure what to do. Politicians harassing his husband was the last thing he anticipated, he had let his guard down for too long. Being around (m/n) really made him feel like he had stepped into the heavens and he hadn’t noticed the sinking (h/c) that was descending into what seemed like hell for his husband.

When he stepped into the bath, he stared at the murky waters, and a hazy version of himself stared back. Me with another? He couldn’t possibly fathom the thought or imagine himself being with another. Be it a man or a woman. The second he had shared a bed with his consort, the ideal love story that had envisioned his mind as a kid had been scrapped.

“Fairytale…” Daisuke tried to pull a foggy memory from the back of his head.

(m/n) had mentioned it a few times. Had he been offended back then? It was just a passing comment. Why would the consort care as so, even he himself hadn’t declared any type of romance intentions to the prince-

Romance…The thought sent heat creeping up his neck, as opposed to the chilly water surrounding his body. Glancing at himself in a mirror, he found his face to be completely flushed, rosy hues decorating his pale cheeks. He didn’t even notice when his expression had changed into one of embarrassment. The prince felt bashful for a moment as he cupped his face with his palms sighing into them.

The prince's mind was consumed with thoughts of the consort— the joyful moments spent basking in his smile, his contagious laughter, and his endearing bratty mannerisms. Yet, the most heart-wrenching moments were those filled with sadness, when he witnessed the consort's tears and heard his anguished cries, or when the consort had pushed him away.

Daisuke’s soft cheeks filled the crevices of his rough tattered palms. His upper lashes fluttering, catching small droplets of water.

He was in love. In love with (m/n) (l/n).

And in that very moment, Daisuke realised that the (h/c) was no longer a mere consort he was forcefully wedded to, instead he was his husband, a man he had come to yearn, to love for.

Daisuke made his way to the Emerald Palace again that night. He was dressed more casually, in a long white creamy robe and his mind was free from heavy thoughts as he dismissed his escorts and knocked on the door. He half-expected his husband to lock him out for the rest of the night but to his surprise, the door was pulled slightly ajar just after his third knock.

Footsteps left the door, and he heard shuffles on the bed. He pushed the door open and shut it behind him and upon entering, he found that all of the curtains were closed and the only source of light was from the lit candle on the dresser. On the bed, (m/n) was laying on his side facing away from him. Daisuke silently went to the edge of the bed and climbed over to him. Shifting the blankets under him, he laid and curled himself into (m/n)’s back, wrapping his arm around his husband’s midsection, spooning him from behind.

Seeing the (h/c) was quiet, the prince remained silent as well, rubbing his thumb into (m/n)’s sleepwear before muttering.

“Regarding the fairytale…I never meant for it to represent my desire, my desire of which I want it to come to life..”

“…”

The response from (m/n) was a deafening silence, Daisuke continued.

“I didn’t…plan nor hope for any of it to actually happen. My father, he didn’t have the best relationship with the previous Empress, and I wish for my marriage to be different, to be ideal.” The ravenette thought of his mother that now only existed as a passing thought.

“But I never expected for us to happen. A marriage of convenience. At first, all I wished for was peace with my suitor. But the more I got to know you,” He kissed the shell of (m/n)’s ear.

“I’m happy you were my spouse. And I don’t care about some plot anymore. All I want is you.”

“…you don’t…don’t tell me this…”

(m/n)’s voice was strained and raw. Had he been crying again?

“I don’t want to know…I don’t want to care anymore…”

Daisuke nuzzled his hair with his nose, breathing in the scent of lavender present in his strands. “Why are you so scared?” He whispered softly.

“I’m not scared, I’m being realistic.” (m/n) seemed defiant, hinted with a twinge of shakiness.

“You are. I won’t look at anyone else. Yet you still fret.”

“I keep pushing you away. I’m a selfish man. I’m destructive and you know it.”

His tone sounded dead, like he was tired of it all. The prince’s grip on his husband was firm.

“Even if you are, we’ll persevere. We can work through it.”

“We won’t. You will give up on me. You will forget me.”

His dark eyebrows furrowed, nuzzling more into (m/n)’s nape, frowning at the indication.

“Now why would you even consider that happening…”

There was no universe where he would even think of abandoning him yet (m/n) kept dwelling on the possibility-

“Because that’s what I did to all the others.”

Daisuke became quiet as a heavy silence descended upon the room. His tongue wouldn’t move. The prince was at a loss of words. With that, (m/n) let out a pained sigh as he continued.

“My past lovers…I got bored and left. What if karma comes back to punish me?”

“…It won’t. Not through me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

The (h/c)’s body went rigid in his hold as the prince took a deep breath, his hands now clammy, growing damp with a nervous sweat.

With a tremulous voice, Daisuke confessed. “I’ve come to realised that I have loved you. For some time now.” He noticed his voice was shaky, and the consort was holding in his breath.

 “I have feelings for you. Ones that…I’ve never felt for and unlike any other. And ones that I want to keep. So please… don’t drive yourself to sickness over me…” His hold tightened around the consort, a silent plea. “I won’t leave us. Not now. Not ever.”

The tension was high in the room, the air taut with an undercurrent of unease, even in the comfort of their bedding. Daisuke buried his face into his husband’s shoulder, his heart racing, waiting anxiously for (m/n)'s response to his confession.

“…okay.” And that was all he received before it became silent again. A sense of worry lingered in his heart but he forced himself to sleep, not achieving a conclusion for the night.

But he would find himself awakened to an empty bed tomorrow once more.

-

The prince stared at the empty spot beside him, with hazy eyes as he rubbed his face with a twinge of annoyance. He ought to lock his husband up if this keeps occurring. He got off the bed and snagged a maroon robe on, a white undershirt and black pants with some casual boots as he exited the chambers to find the (h/c).

Daisuke asked the knights stationed outside where the consort was, and they reported that he went to get some air, accompanied by his own sets of guards somewhere in the courtyard and that’s where Daisuke went.

As his feet led his steps, the heels clacking against the painted concrete, he thought of what to say, how to coax his husband. In his mind there were many things circulating as well, the West Emperor, the Countess’ party, (m/n)’s past lovers…Fuck. He’s already feeling jealous at the mention of an ex-lover.

But now, his marriage is on the rocks. And he would do anything to save his relationship. For the (h/c), for him and for the both of them. He found a pair of paladins, watching over a scenery and he went up to them, asking where the (h/c) is.

They point to where (m/n) is and he sees a lone figure staring into the distance, in the midst of a green field. He steeled his heart for the ultimatum of their marriage.

-

(m/n) stared at the green open scenery, his arms folded with only a moss green blanket over his shoulders with his previous sleepwear. Despite the tranquil expression on his face, his mind had a storm. And the storm was filled with memories of his life.

The second born of the dukedom. He was raised with the knowledge that he would never inherit the House of (l/n), especially from his relatives. Compared to his older brother, he grew up with spite although his parents showered him with presents and love, he was never satisfied, knowing that he'd never achieve the title of a Duke.

But he was a smart kid, so he studied people, studied psychology, how to manipulate, how to act. So he could use those around him for his own advantage. He used his parents, he used his brother, and it didn't help he developed his own charm so he had lovers, especially those rich ones with the promise of marriage and his unconditional love but all was empty.

As soon as the well was sucked dry, he left, letting them grovel at his feet, begging for him to return but he didn't spare a glance. (m/n) was having fun for himself, although he would get reprimanded by his brother once or twice but a slap on his wrist and he was already on his way to ruin someone else's life.

Deep down inside, he knew what he was doing was terrible, that no one deserved the kind of treatment he was giving, especially seeing those enchanted eyes that were bewitched by him. But he justified himself, saying that he did what he wanted because he had no other prospects due to his heritage, due to his circumstances.

And the one he hated the most...(m/n) never got close to the West crown prince. They had merely chatted once or twice but that was all it took for the Emperor to rain hell against him. His parents had backed him, his father who was still the Grand Duke and that seemed to put him off but alas, the news of his hand in marriage sold to the East for the promise of peace between the kingdoms.

(m/n) felt dread when he received the news, especially when he found out that his family couldn't even accompany his departure to his wedding, mostly hooked up with missions that all linked back to the royals and he knew that old scumbag was against him.

So he went, fooling with a few people before entering into a foreign world, an unpredictable marriage with a foreign prince. He could only bring a couple of maids and footmen that volunteered to journey along with him to the East and truthfully, that made him feel sick. Homesick.

He missed the safety of his home, the comfort of his parents and even the harsh but gentle reprimandings of his brother. They were what had been grounding him all his life.

So he acted out and so many things had happened and he got to know the prince. Was claimed by him viciously in a way that he lewdly enjoyed and for a moment he thought maybe he could have an actual life in the East- until the prince mentioned his stupid fairytale. What Daisuke couldn't experience. Love? Is he not enough?

Then, he realised what his past lovers had said and it seemed that he was in that feeble position he had spat at long ago. The thought of another consort in Daisuke's harem made him sick. So he pushed his feelings deep down, thinking that there would only be pain and disappointment if he were to bring them to light.

Now that Daisuke...his husband had confessed to him in the cold night, he didn't know what to say. How to even act. How to respond. But there was a sliver of thought that the prince didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve him.

But he wanted to cry if Daisuke would find someone else instead, to spend their time together, to sleep in the same bed. (m/n) should be the only one to do so, not anyone else no matter how many people demanded for an heir but he understood the responsibilities of a crown prince but he just couldn't bear the thought of-

"Fuck." He whimpered. It almost seemed impossible but he had fallen for the prince too.

But he couldn't. He shouldn't. He would only drive the prince to despair. He was a bitch to deal with, his mood swings, his temperament, his attitude.

He heard the shuffles of grass, light footsteps behind him. The (h/c) turned around to see the last person he wanted to see, Daisuke walking to him, (m/n)'s robe he had adorned flowing behind him. The cool sun and the morning fog almost made it seem romantic, he always had handsome features befitting of a prince.

Even with despair in his mind, he still found time to admire the prince. When Daisuke stopped in his tracks, they both stood facing each other, (m/n) being quiet and pulling the blanket in closer.

Daisuke was the first to speak.

"I woke up alone. Again." His tone seemed disappointed? Mundane. (m/n) wasn't sure. "I think at this point, I should be the one afraid of being abandoned."

If it had been any normal situation, the (h/c) would think the prince was being cheeky. But even the gardeners knew they were both tense at the moment.

"I needed some air. I brought the guards with me."

"Could've woken me up. I would've accompanied you."

He shook his head. "It'd be a bother." "It wouldn't."

Daisuke was quick to cut his sentence. "I wouldn't mind. I would have enjoyed spending time with you." "Stop pushing this matter."

"What matters? So you admit that there's something wrong with you?" His voice was raising and (m/n) felt mad at the moment. "Your Highness, don't do this to me now!"

"What? I can't call out your bullshit? You're so stubborn when it comes to compromising-" "For fuck's sake, it's still morning, even the fog hasn't gone away and we're already fighting! I don't understand why you think we'd be a good match!"

(m/n) felt his own voice shouting as well, garnering looks from the working servants.

"Of course we're going to fight! It's okay that we fight! Fighting is not necessarily a bad thing. That's just how we sort things out-" "You know I'm the reason we fight most of the time. Hell, I even disrespect you, the crown prince out of all people, yet YOU CALL ME STUBBORN BUT YOU'RE STILL WITH ME-"

"YES! I AM STUBBORN TOO! I call you out when you're being a fucking jackass and you come lashing back at me with a four-second recoil. We're hard to work with. So what?! We'll solve this. I want this and I want you-"

"You do not want me." (m/n) seethed, frustrated with Daisuke who was wiping his face with his hands, equally upset.

"I do. I want you."

"Nobody wants me." The (h/c) shook his head, keeping himself in denial. "Not like you."

Daisuke frowned. He pointed to (m/n), trudging closer to him. "I do. I crave for you. My body is a drought without you- not even the richest of waters can quench this thirst, my heart yearns no one else but you." The prince seemed desperate, desperate to get his message across (m/n)'s thick skull who couldn't fathom that someone could love him this much.

"You shouldn’t want that, you’re the prince for heaven’s sake- this is NOT RIGHT FOR YOU-!"

"And who are you to tell me what is right for me? Ever since you came here all you did was go against me and I persevered! I put up with your bullshit because that’s how much I fucking love you!"

"You do NOT LOVE ME! STOP TELLING YOURSELF THAT-"

"I DO!!" Daisuke screamed at him, something that even (m/n) thought he would never do, rendering him eye-wide and speechless. The prince continued his yelling.

"NOT EVEN THE ANGELS THEMSELVES CAN SING HATRED INTO MY HEART! NOT EVEN THE DAMNATION OF THE EARTH CAN SHATTER THE HOLD YOU HAVE ON MY MIND! I CONSTANTLY THINK OF YOU! YOU ARE A DISEASE TO MY LIFE! A DISEASE I DO NOT WANT TO BE CURED FROM! If I had to be a sick man to dedicate myself to loving you for the rest of my life then SO BE IT!"

(m/n)'s breath was stolen away, stolen by the prince's declaration. His passion for him, out of all people and Daisuke was heaving, his face almost turning red from his long exclamation in one single breath.

"I don’t understand…how can you…how can you proclaim such a thing for me…I don’t deserve this. This happiness. It sickens me. I don’t deserve you." Tears fell from his eyes unknowingly, he sobbed into his hand, confused on how could someone love him this much.

Strong arms wrapped around his figure, Daisuke hugging him and gently touching their foreheads together to comfort themselves. (m/n) was pushing him away again. "We can't...we shouldn't..." He mumbled through his cries.

He might be the most stubborn man Daisuke had ever met and he had enough of his crap.

(m/n) choked when Daisuke tugged his collar, pulling it up and shoving the (h/c) away. The prince glared at him through glassy eyes. "…if you despise me so much then push me away again. I shall leave."

The (h/c) shook his head fervently. "...I can't. I can't possibly-"

"I'm giving you a choice, Lord (l/n)." The use of his last name made (m/n)'s heart drop as he looked at Daisuke, his expression helpless. "A choice to choose between us…or you. If u oh so desire to not be loved by anyone, then say it again."

"Please don't...don't make me-"

"It shouldn't be hard for you. You always knew what you wanted." (m/n) was heartbroken as a tear dropped down Daisuke's cheek.

"And I know who I long for."

The (h/c) couldn't speak, only stammers and cries escaping his throat, his hands clawing at Daisuke's sleeve, begging him to not make him choose. He couldn't make Daisuke suffer, not after what he did, his past sins were haunting him at night, terrified that karma would murder him in his sleep.

But at the same time he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to keep the prince all to himself. He didn't want any other woman to be able to embrace Daisuke like how he would on their passionate nights. Undeniably, he yearned for his husband's touch no matter how much he repressed his feelings.

"I want you...I...I want you, Daisuke."

Daisuke's grip was shaky as (m/n) cried out for him. "I don't want to see anyone else with you...I'm greedy. I want you for myself..." The prince pulled him into his hold, both of them falling to their knees as the prince freely let his tears flow from his eyes.

"I love you. I love you so much." Daisuke sobbed as he hugged his husband. (m/n) nodding and burying his face into the prince's shoulder. "I'm not an easy person to live with." His worry was still creeping in his mind.

"If I have to go to war with you everyday, then I'll fight until my last breath." The ravenette kissed his temple, thanking the heavens in his heart. "I'm no good for you…" A croaky remark came out of the consort.

"Then call me a madman because you are the first thing I want to see in every waking breath and the last thing I want to see with my dying one." He pulled (m/n) to face him, both of their expressions teary. "I love you, (m/n). Not even my father can change that."

Daisuke pulled his husband into a kiss and for the first time, (m/n) wholeheartedly accepted the kiss, his heart opening and slowly filled to the brim. His hands grasped at the prince's back, desperate for comfort as Daisuke deepened the kiss.

Fuck, he actually felt happy at the moment.

They spent their time clinging onto each other, (m/n) crying apologies at the prince, Daisuke muffling his own tears as they laid together in the field. In his heart, he was glad, a burden lifted off his shoulders, that the consort finally opened his heart to him regardless of his constant objections. He was so happy he got to keep his lover with him

-

"What the fuck..." One of the guards that was watching over them sobbed into his gloved palm. "Our prince...I didn't even know..." The other man elbowed him in his side, he was hiding his own tears as well. "I told you not to fucking *sobs* look, you bastard."

-

Things were mostly peaceful after the confession. (m/n) resided mostly in his chambers, his hand was healing and he was getting lots of rest from his mania the other day. Daisuke often visits him, sleeping in his bed with him, his father even sent a get-well-soon bouquet and the consort felt embarrassed about the whole shenanigan.

He didn't want to think about those stupid politicians. Just the thought of them makes his blood boil despite Daisuke's pestered to spill their identities so he could 'do something'.

He received a letter from the Earl's wife, an apology from her guests' behalf for his upsetting and invited him for tea for reconciliation.

(m/n) didn't reply, but he suspected she would be coming to the ball tonight. A ball held in the Grand Palace, for a holiday occasion. One where (m/n) wasn't planning to go.

He rejected the idea, not interested in meeting the public again or for another stupid social event. Although Daisuke asked him over and over to come to the ball since he had to attend, he refused nonetheless.

So here he was, standing in the balcony of his room, staring at the lights lit up and the multitudes of horses and carriages surrounding the entrance of the Grand Palace. He wondered if Daisuke would be dancing with someone else at the ball.

He randomly glanced to the left, the far left of the side of the Emerald Palace, where the woods meet the edge of the property and he saw a glint. It was like a glint of metal, a sword maybe? He squinted his eyes to see random movement and there was uneasiness in his heart as closed his balcony doors, sliding into his duvet

Maybe it was the guards patrolling the area, although he knew most of them were stationed at the ball since gatherings of high society required more security.

Something was odd.

He pulled the door ajar, to call for a maid but immediately closed it back once he saw an unknown man dragging a body of an unconscious maid. More came flooding in the hall opening the rooms, all dressed in black carrying swords and he knew his life was in danger.

It was either an ambush or a kidnapping.

This wasn't a peculiar situation to him, he was the son of a duke, there were numerous attempts of kidnapping since he was young for ransom from his rich family. He understood the position of a consort made him a bigger target.

He locked his doors, threw the balcony doors open, grabbed a dagger from his bedside table and slid under his bed to hide. The dukedom had trained him since he was little, how to hide from kidnappers. His fighting skills may have been rusty, but it should hold until the other knights arrive nonetheless.

There were hush yelling outside until his door was kicked open. Three men came flooding into his room and they cursed when they saw the open balcony.

"He's escaped. Target's not in his palace." "Get the ground men to search for the courtyard. He couldn't have gotten far. Kill on sight."

Fuck, it was an ambush. To take his life. He held his breath under his bed as footsteps left his room, until one retracted and stepped towards his closet.

This one is slightly smart. (m/n) thought as his beautiful closet was pulled open roughly by the ruffian. He readied his dagger and stabbed him by the Achilles' heel once he kneeled to check under the bed.

(m/n) rolled out of his hiding spot and kicked the screaming man in his throat, knocking him back onto the closet, rendering him unconscious.

He quickly gathered his bearings as he gripped the bloodied dagger, leaving his room for safety. The consort trudged down the halls and cursed at himself once another assailant spotted him, yelling for his other accomplices as (m/n) ran for his life.

He ran past a few familiar faces, his maids and servants, even his knights were all unconscious and (m/n) rolled his eyes at their hapless circumstances.

He wanted to run down the stairs but eventually clambered up instead when more assailants were coming up. He heard yelling for backup, looks like some of his knights were finally coming to their senses and there were clashing of swords between the paladins and the ambushers.

(m/n) ran down another hall, attempting to exit through the West Wing but he was tackled by an assailant, knocking the wind out of his chest. He punched and kicked the unknown masked man, the man retaliating and swinging his sword to his face but (m/n) barely dodged it, his cheek now bleeding.

He stabbed the dagger deep into neck after a few more punches and the man fell to the floor, choking on his own blood. The consort hissed in pain, his side bruised from the jabbing of a hilt and he hoped reinforcements would just come already but he faltered seeing more assailants at the end of the hall, running to him.

He did the next best thing.

The shattering of a window cut through the air and (m/n) jumped out of the third floor.

His target was the large trees surrounding the palace but his grip faltered and he fell, landing on branch after branch, grunting and cursing after every hit until he fell to the dirt floor in an awkward position.

He huffed, taking in breaths as he hoped the assailants wouldn't find him in the deep shrubbery he had landed in. (m/n) was too tired to get up to find his guards. They should be the one looking for him, not the other way around so he just laid there in the bush like a lazy twat.

(m/n) wondered what Daisuke was doing. That even if he cared that he was in this dangerous predicament. It was him who didn't want to go to the ball, leaving himself vulnerable.

He sighed, not wanting to scramble his thoughts any longer as he ignored the throbbing pain down his leg. Was something broken?

He took a peek and swore to not look down again. He swore something was poking out of his leg. And at that moment, horns were heard and reinforcements finally arrived. (m/n) sighing in relief.

"Fucking finally-" "KILL THEM ALL!!"

His mouth dropped at the familiar voice. In the distance was Daisuke, in his still lavish suit, fresh from the ball, drawing his sword with a face full of fury and a barrage of knights behind him. (m/n) forgot that the prince had been a commander at one point, as per his wedding suit.

"SLAUGHTER EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM! THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS SPARED UNTIL THE CONSORT IS FOUND! FIND MY HUSBAND ALIVE OR I'M TAKING YOUR HEADS INSTEAD!!"

(m/n) wanted to giggle, because how down bad was the prince to murder the assailants and the knights if he was found dead. The paladins seemed to be pumped as they stormed the Emerald Palace, joining their brothers in the fight and bringing the staff to safety, all in the search of him and he could hear Daisuke screaming his name.

He rolled his eyes as he fumbled for a stone and threw at one of the guards running by, hitting their back plate. "What the-! THE CONSORT!! We found the consort!"

The guard immediately went to him, opting to pull him out of the shrubbery under the trees next to the entrances, how (m/n) was so close to victory, but he hesitated once he saw the consort's leg.

"I don't want to know." (m/n) deadpanned. He still hadn't fully embraced the pain from the adrenaline and he's not in the mood right now. Just in time, Daisuke had arrived at his location, scrambling off his horse and onto his knees, hugging him and spilling tears.

"Thank heavens, you're safe! Are you injured? Are you hurt anywh- OH MY FUCKING GOD?!!!" He grabbed a potion from one of the emergency medics behind him, it seemed that a lot of the guards had surrounded him, some out of curiosity on how the hell the consort ended down there and some were detaining the assailants.

Daisuke urged him to drink the small bottle, apparently as an anaesthetic because the injury was that bad but again he didn't want to know the severity of it.

Him and two other knights carefully lifted up the consort, laying him in an open carriage as Daisuke handed his husband over to his personal knight. "Bring him to the royal infirmary. Now." The knight nodded and sat on the horse, carrying the injured (h/c) to safety.

It seemed Daisuke wanted to deal with the rest of the assailants himself.

"Your Grace, you seem oddly calm. Your bone is sticking out-" "I don't want to fucking know, bro."

-

(m/n) was sulking, throwing a tantrum as he yelled for the guards to let him pass. It had been a few days since his attempted assassination and he was placed on house arrest or more specifically bed rest since he broke his leg, had a few bruises and the obvious bandage on his cheek.

Well, it wasn't his room he was staying in, instead he was confined to Daisuke's room. The man had gone berserk, catching all the assailants which were shockingly around forty men which was suspicious amount just for the murder of one consort.

He was furious and didn't even let (m/n) voice his thoughts of staying elsewhere as he locked the (h/c) inside his room. The consort couldn't do much, his left leg was in a cast from his ankle up to his knee. (m/n) was annoyed and frankly upset that he had to be placed in a protective lockdown just because someone wanted him dead.

Other than that, he thought he looked like a total loser using crutches because his arm strength was not the best, he’d be stumbling over himself half the time. So he opted for a wheelchair instead. He almost puked seeing the standard boring hospital wheelchair and Daisuke bought him a golden one instead. "It will do." He huffed as his personal maid pushed him down the halls after finally arguing and winning against the paladin to let him get some fresh air.

That came at a price of five knights surrounding him and his maid. All of them were talking military slangs so he was annoyed when they mentioned 'baby eagle has left the nest' but it seemed pretty obvious that they were his guard dogs.

"Don't fret, Your Grace. All will be fine soon." His maid consoled him, pitying at his annoyed state. "These idiots are blocking my view...and this cast is UGLY!" They were outside, (m/n) breathing a sigh of relief, finally escaping containment, still surrounded by knights however.

"And where the hell is the prince??" (m/n) hadn't seen his husband for the past two nights despite him practically living in his chambers. What the hell was he up to now?

-

Screaming echoed against the moist stone walls, a dimly lit prison with a sconce mounted onto a wall. There was a severely injured man, strapped to a wooden chair with belts around his wrists, ankles and waist. Most of his fingernails were ripped out, a bloody wrench was very effective, the beholder stared down at the impaired prisoner, his guards standing behind him menacingly.

Daisuke spoke, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll ask again. Who is your client?”

“I don’t know!” He sobbed out, tears and snot coated his face along with the occasional blood. “We only received a photo and a fuck ton of money- my men have no idea who employed us!”

The prince had been in the dungeons for a few days, slowly killing the remainder of the infiltrators who dared to step foot into the Emerald Palace, especially the ones who laid hands on his husband. He used a number of tools, screwdriver, wrench, a hammer, even a scalpel and once he found out who was the ringleader, he didn’t hesitate to rid the useless ones.

“How much did that bastard pay you?” “I can’t just- FUCK FUCK IT HURTS!!” One of the guards drove a heated steel rod into the gaping wound of his thigh, the ringleader cursing and screaming at the pain enveloping his body.

“It was five million- THE DOWN PAYMENT WAS FIVE MILLION STOP STOP!”

Daisuke gave it more thought, (m/n) was wanted dead, not kidnapped, someone paid a huge amount of money, enough to buy a palace, as down payment for his head. He racked his head, connecting more dots and gazed over the tattoo on the ringleader’s neck.

“A lion…you’re not from here, are you?”

The ringleader shook his head, wailing over the lack of feeling in his leg as Daisuke left the dungeon. “I’ll need to see a friend next week. Clear my schedule, Ivan.” His secretary who held in his retch, nodded as he walked beside him.

“Oh, and how’s (m/n) doing?” “Well, he’s outside right now. Strolling near the greenhouse.”

Ivan had received an update from one of the footmen spying on the consort, for safety purposes or Daisuke’s paranoia.

“…Let’s prepare a gift for him. Burn the dead ones. We have no need for them anymore.”

-

(m/n) was still sulking, strolling by the flowers in the wheelchair pushed by his loyal maid. The greenhouse was a beautiful place, often visited by the ladies of the kingdom just for the scenery itself. A big glass dome towering over the fauna that flourished and decorated the place. Endangered, foreign and unique floral bloomed in the gardens that were tended to by the gardeners. The (h/c) would often find peace just by being present in the greenhouse.

“All of you are dismissed.” He must have been daydreaming to just notice Daisuke had walked to them, shooing away his maid and the paladins, although they insisted they could tend to the consort but Daisuke denied it otherwise.

“How are you, my love?” Daisuke pushed his wheelchair, guiding him out of the greenhouse as (m/n) fidgeted with the thin blanket laid across his lap. “I’m fine. I feel fine, I think.” The prince chuckled, brushing his oddly stained fingers against his hair.

“I hope you’ll feel much better after I show you,” He coughed into his fist. “A little something that I made.” (m/n) could hear the teasing tone in his voice and he couldn’t guess what other present Daisuke had in store, considering that he had bought every single riche his kingdom had to offer for the (h/c).

“I’m excited.” He replied sarcastically. Daisuke laughed again and the (h/c) wondered if the prince had gone insane just by the amount of laughs he donned in the span of thirty seconds. “Allow me to…vent for a bit, husband. Monologue even.”

“Do as you like.” (m/n) sank into his seat, gazing at the landscape as they headed to the South Wing of the Grand Palace.

“…At the time of the ball, I felt quite lonely. The Earl came up to me, asking for you but of course I rejected his audience, for your recuperance. Many of the guests mentioned I looked like I was looking for something, someone perhaps…Even my father teased me, said I looked like a lost puppy.”

(m/n) snorted at the thought of Daisuke moping around in the ball, all elegant with his suit.

“I was so used to having you by my side…I couldn’t fathom the thought of you, not being around me. I felt unease…

So when your servant came running in, screaming that your palace had been ambushed…I felt dread and…anger.”

The path they were taking were cobblestones, far from the marble and concrete (m/n) was used to.

“Someone wanted you dead, (m/n).”

The (h/c) felt creeped out by this…side of Daisuke. He stopped fidgeting with his blanket.

“…But I’m not letting them have their way. I’m not letting them take you away from me, not when we have this…this love we harbour.

We’re here.”

They arrived at the barracks, for soldiers and knights of the kingdom. (m/n) never stepped foot here, he didn’t need to dirty his hands like the rest of them, Daisuke pushed his wheelchair into the courtyard that was far different from the ones in his properties.

The grounds were only soil, tattered and unkempt used for training but it was empty for this occasion. He was still scrutinizing the rest of the conditions before Daisuke leaned down next to his ear.

“Look up.”

A quiet gasp escaped his lips, his eyes wide as his palm went to cup his mouth in shock. Daisuke peered at his reaction before glaring back at the bodies before them

Three men were nailed high on a cross. Their stomachs slit open, crows pecking at their guts and entrails, pulling it and gnawing it down their throat.

(m/n) barely recognized a few of them, one was the one who almost caught him hiding under the bed, one was the one who had jabbed his ribs with the hilt of his sword and the middle one...he didn't recognise. He's even surprised at the fact that the other man survived his stabbing attempt.

The blood pouring down their torso was a glaring red. It seemed fresh.

"I left them alive for you. They deserved it." Daisuke whispered to (m/n). "One who entered your room. One who forced you to jump and the ringleader. I had them hung with their stomach torn apart to feed the crows. You should have seen them begging to be killed."

The (h/c) glanced behind him to see the prince sweetly smiling down at him. "I'll protect you. This serves as a reminder to anyone that dares to harm you. I'll never let you get hurt again."

At that moment, any normal person would feel fear, their instincts screaming at them to run from the menacing uncanny danger that seemed to be the prince. But not him, not (m/n). For what was supposed to be terror was replaced with heat in his pants.

"Your Highness..." (m/n) mumbled. This proof of love Daisuke had bestowed upon him only heightened his sense of security, pushing insanity. "...Thank you." A gentle smile at his lipsa he caressed the hand on his shoulder.

A warmth enveloped his heart as he stared at his assailants, satisfied with their violent outcome.

-

"Urghh- urmm hnnmm Your Highness- mhmm! I haven't- We haven't done it in a while- ahn!" His mouth was cupped shut by the ravenette, Daisuke smirking as he stared down at the struggling (h/c). "Keep quiet, unless you'd like to get caught.

(m/n) nodded shamelessly, his weight shifted onto his good leg, Daisuke holding his waist in place. He was forced to stand up, pushed up a wall behind one of the many buildings in the palace, shielded from many eyes. His wheelchair kicked aside.

The (h/c) whimpered while rubbing their cocks together, both of them had unzipped their pants as (m/n) struggled to masturbate both of their dicks while maintaining balance on his stand.

"Grip it more. Then, clench your fingers- mmn! Thaaaat's it." Daisuke praised the consort, who was mewling into his hand covering his mouth, he bucked his hips more into the (h/c)'s hand, rubbing his tip against (m/n)'s.

(m/n)'s cries were muffled when he came, spurts of semen decorating both their cocks as Daisuke followed, moaning as he rutted up into his husband's hands.

The (h/c) went limp, crashing into Daisuke's chest as he whined for comfort, the prince cooing at him as he cleaned them both up, carrying him into his chambers.

-

"Huff, huff- ahnnn fuckk meee- mnhaa!"

(m/n) cried out when Daisuke came inside him again, his ass clenching around the prince's throbbing cock, his palms and knees digging into the bedsheets as his front crashed onto the bed, losing his composure.

His cast was weighing him down, tiring him more than usual but that didn't seem to stop Daisuke.

"One more time for me, love." He tapped his ass, pushing him onto his side as he pulled the (h/c) by his waist, slapping his crotch onto his ass. "I can't-" He hiccupped, a raw cry tearing from his throat. "I can't cum anymore...I'm too sensitive." He whined helplessly.

"Shh shh don't say that." Daisuke cooed at the (h/c), adjusting his cock, letting his til kiss (m/n)'s entrance. "Of course, you can. You can make me so happy just this once, right?"

(m/n) groggily propped himself on his elbows, whimpering at the pressing tip on his hole. "I'll buy you more jewellery. Have them made custom for you. You can have any gem you desire." The (h/c) moaned again when Daisuke slipped himself into his wet entrance.

It wasn't that he didn't dislike accepting gifts, but the fact that the prince offered like it was some sort of payment made him feel like a whore. And fuck that felt hot.

He melted more into the prince's touch, who was groping his chest, teasily trailing his hand up neck and gripped his throat. "You're practically an expert already, ain't ya'?"

(m/n) mewled, his drool seeping from his lips as he endured the lustful thrusts from the prince. Daisuke smirked, seeing (h/c) strands swishing every time he pounded into the consort as his grip tightened around (m/n)'s neck.

He pushed (m/n)'s good leg up more, bending it as he pushed his cock balls deep inside his husband who screamed at the stuffing of his ass. He knew he had come, watery cum decorating the sheets and his walls squeezing his wet cock.

Daisuke groaned lustfully as he emptied his sperm inside the consort once again as he dropped himself onto (m/n), making sure to avoid his bandaged leg.

The (h/c) was jittery, eyes glossy as he begged for aftercare from the prince who was more than happy to provide to the crying consort.

-

(m/n) admired the teardrop earrings which held the Artemis and Apollo Gem for each side on his ears. His maids behind him were also fawning over his growing collection of jewellery, courtesy of the crown prince.

"Get me my shoes." "Yes, Your Grace."

It had been some time and (m/n) could walk again. His cast removed and he finally returned to the Emerald Palace, sighing in relief. Daisuke sulked, asking if he didn't enjoy his time at the Grand Palace.

"You keep bedding me every night! How am I supposed to sleep?!" "But babe🥹."

That was the gist of their banter.

The prince himself had journeyed outside of the capital for a few days and he had sent a messenger beforehand telling him to prepare for another journey.

Apparently, in commemoration with his leg healing, Daisuke wanted to take (m/n) out of the Palaces for a vacation, more specifically finally using the long-awaited summerhouse. He also mentioned having another surprise for him, now with his recent one, (m/n) isn't sure what to expect the range of his presents. It could be the heart of his enemies or more designer shoes.

(m/n) embarked to the mansion first, accompanied by...a platoon of soldiers, per request of the crown prince. He even vented his frustrations to the emperor, the rare times where he would be in contact with Daisuke's old man. All he replied was with a drawing of a four-leaf clover.

The journey took three days, them staying in cabins and whatnot, he was even accompanied by Daisuke's secretary, Ivan and they bonded together with a deck of playing cards. As soon as he arrived at the estate, he whistled to himself in surprise.

Overall, he was satisfied with the lavish mansion, a huge lawn with floral decor, and a port for small cruising boats on the far side. With rows and rows of servants bowing on the sidelines.

Estate by the lake, fully furnished and a stampede of staff, just like he wanted. (m/n) thought he had to give Daisuke a good sucking that night until the prince's carriage had suddenly arrived, stopping beside his.

"Husband! I missed you!" Daisuke enveloped (m/n) with a bear hug, lifting him and spinning them around. "What a coincidence we arrived at the same time!" The prince gleamed.

"We arrived first, he was just waiting for you at the entrance for the whole day." Daisuke's personal knight deadpanned, not impressed with his prince. "Is that so?" (m/n) smirked, as he pinched the ravenette's cheek.

They spent their time together, (m/n) cruising around the mansion, commenting on the interior decor and Daisuke following behind him like an excited pup. The prince had to retire to a makeshift office with his secretary, private matters that even (m/n) couldn't join and he rolled his eyes and went to the master bedroom for that matter.

It was almost midnight and Daisuke still was in his office until (m/n) decided to put the lake to good use.

He sneaked out to the harbor, soothed his eyes with the calming water and stripped himself bare. He dipped his feet first, testing the temperature before fully submerging himself in the body of water, enjoying the cooling sensation.

(m/n) dived under, swimming through the ripples of water, gently rocking against his limbs as he swam further to the middle. He resurfaced and gasped, taking breaths as he swiped his hair back.

The (h/c) looked to the harbor and noticed someone standing over them, he squinted his eyes and perked up when he noticed it was his husband. "Could've invited me." Daisuke smirked, pushing (m/n)'s clothes aside with his shoe as the consort swam to the port.

"Didn't want to bother you. Seem pretty busy these days." (m/n) huffed, still keeping himself floating in the inky water. Daisuke rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms together, not bother to hide his very obvious erection with the wet naked consort.

"And what if someone else catches you like this? Dearest, I might find myself green with envy." (m/n) grinned to himself, pride surging within him as he offered a hand to the prince. "Then, join me." He purred before teasingly swimming away.

The prince laughed as he took off his own clothes, not hesitating to gracefully dive into the lake. (m/n) looked behind him for the prince that was nowhere to be seen before he felt something pulling at his feet.

He yelled in shock before Daisuke resurfaced, laughing at him while (m/n) smacked his chest for scaring him. They played in the water together, splashing each other, casual swimming and they even held a contest to see who could last underwater the longest.

"Crap, that's unfair! You're trained for this!" (m/n) pulled Daisuke's black hair who was still holding his head underwater for more than four minutes already. The prince gasped for air as he pulled the embarrassed consort close.

"I don't stay in my room all day when I was a teen, Your Grace." He teased his husband while (m/n) mumbled something along the lines of 'Yeah, cuz' I was in someone else's room-' before Daisuke dragged him underwater again.

The water was relatively cool, calm under the luminous glow of the moon, with the exception of the couple laughing to themselves, making small waves until Daisuke trapped the (h/c) in his arms.

"I love you, (m/n)."

Daisuke confessed as he kissed the (h/c), slowly trailing his hand below the water. The consort moaned into his mouth when he felt his ass cupped, digging his fingernails into Daisuke's back.

(m/n) held onto the prince as he embraced Daisuke, letting him lick, bite and even suck all over his body, him returning the favor, mostly on Daisuke's chest.

They returned to the port, wet and with a limp in (m/n)'s step as they readied themselves for another day.

-

There was another reason why Daisuke invited (m/n) to take a vacation at the summerhouse. He revealed that he needed to meet a friend, a contact in the West, and since the summerhouse was at the borders, he figured that it would be a perfect opportunity for them to relax together.

(m/n) first questioned why Daisuke hadn't gone alone, as what he did for all his previous side missions until the prince slid him a letter. The (h/c) recognised the letter, he received a similar one before. It was an invite from one of the famous privileged.

Apparently, Daisuke's contact was famous for his ludicrous events, organised privately for high society which required a partner. Daisuke couldn't go alone, and instead of hiring someone else to be his lover, he opted that the (h/c) could have a little outing.

"It's not that revealing." (m/n) rolled his eyes as he spun around in his outfit, checking himself out in the mirrors. "Dear, look at my pants and tell me otherwise."

The (h/c) threw a shoe at him before they embarked for the party in a black carriage, one without a symbol.

(m/n) was dressed in a two-piece bedlah, his cropped top was a see-through maroon garment that covered only his chest and parts of his arms, pearls and beads decorating the garb. His lower half had a golden waist chain with two long fabrics covering his front and behind that had small gems dangling on his hips. He also donned on a shiny brown mask that curved downward at the front, resembling a hawk, its decor matched his jewellery and arm cuffs all over his figure.

Daisuke wore a dark navy cropped top, only covering his shoulders and arms, draped down to his sides, essentially giving a window to his abs and chest. His jewellery leaned to silver, chains cross his chest and a printed flare pants to style the rest of his lower half. A black and blue masquerade mask tied around his head, complimenting his own set of jewellery.

The venue wasn't far from the borders, it took a couple of hours, half of those time (m/n) spent by groping Daisuke's chest over and over until they reached the mansion. They were ushered inside by servants who had empty masks on into a room with large doors.

Daisuke handed the invite to one of the guards and they were let in and there was a reason why the doors were 4-inches thick. Immediately, the sounds of moaning, squelching, and whipping could be heard throughout the ball room.

It was a refurbished hall, with multitudes of furniture decorating the venue, beds, sofas alike with men and women climbing over each other with similar lavish masks.

The event that Daisuke's contact usually organised was orgies or gangbangs accompanied by drugs and alcohols. (m/n) himself received an invite but he ran out of the hall when lots of people wanted a turn on him.

The (h/c) clutched his pearl as he nudged closer to Daisuke who calmly walked to the middle of the pile, seeing his contact, the only one without a mask.

"Ah! My friend, he has arrived!" A man that seemed to be in his thirties, brown curly hair that reached his shoulders and baby blue eyes with woman cooing over him, one of them on her knees deepthroating his cock. He gave a hand to shake but Daisuke respectfully declined, not risking any diseases.

"Did you receive word from my messenger?" "Of course. A shy one, isn't he?" (m/n) didn't fully grasp the context of what they were conversing but he was surprised Daisuke was speaking his mother tongue, despite the obvious accent.

They continued talking to each other, (m/n) hugging Daisuke's arm as he gazed over someone getting tag-teamed and the abundant of breasts present in the dim room, only lit by the candelabras. Suddenly, Daisuke ushered him elsewhere while the previous man got up from the round bed and headed off elsewhere all in his naked glory.

"What happened?" "He went to retrieve a few things for me. It should take some time, so we ought to lay low until then."

Daisuke was a prince of a kingdom, it would be bad for their reputation if he was to be discovered here, albeit the non-disclosure agreement they had to sign. (m/n) wondered if there were any other royals here, kings or queens even, looking at an old burly man fucking into a lewd girl.

The prince grabbed an unopened bottle of alcohol and pulled (m/n) to sit on a sofa in the far corner. More discreet but still surrounded, nonetheless. "He will take his time, that man." Daisuke scoffed as he popped the bottle open. "You can lay down to relax." The prince patted on the spot next to him as (m/n) sighed and draped himself over Daisuke's lap who began drinking and playing with his hair.

"Did you ever went to one of these?" Daisuke questioned him. "No. Some of my friends invited me but I had the feeling I might run into one of my exes if I ever indulged myself. The last time I entered an orgy, they ripped off my mask so it wasn't exactly the most fun adventure I've had."

The prince hummed as he rubbed (m/n)'s bare thigh between the garbs, warming his hands as he took another swig. "What is this? It's strong but sweet."

The (h/c) plucked the bottle from his hands. "It's native to the West. Really nice brand, but it's forbidden for international export, some beef between the owners." Daisuke took the bottle back and chugged it again. "Fuck, it really melts on the tongue."

(m/n) frowned, seeing Daisuke drinking by himself. "Let me have a taste." The prince took another swig and placed the bottle on the table next to them, beside a lit candle, illuminating the side of Daisuke's face before he leaned down and grabbed (m/n)'s jaw still.

He tilted their heads, knocking their masks slightly together before he pushed (m/n)'s mouth open with his fingers letting the wine flowed down his tongue and into (m/n)'s mouth. The (h/c) choked, squirming in Daisuke's hold as he gulped down the mouth-to-mouth drink.

He coughed as he sat up, wiping his lips. "What the hell-" (m/n) patted his own chest. "You're bold today." Daisuke hummed, grabbing the bottle back. "I'm just in the mood, y'know."

(m/n) frowned, ignoring the lewd moans from behind him as he glanced at Daisuke's pants. "You're not thinking of...doing it here, are you?" The prince pursed his lips. "It wouldn't hurt to have some fun, would it?"

"What if we get caught? What if they see your face?" "They won't. We'll be careful. Everyone's sucking something in this hall." Daisuke grabbed (m/n)'s arm, urging him to sit in his lap as the (h/c) hesitantly climbed over, facing the heated prince.

"I don't know...it just feels uneasy? I'm not sure." (m/n) felt the burn in his stomach, curling in his crotch but he wasn't sure what to make of it. The wine tasted different.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here, aren't I? You're safe with me." Daisuke cooed at him, gently nipping at his bare shoulder, caressing his back. (m/n) grunted as he took the bottle of wine, reading the back of it.

He almost dropped the bottle when he felt Daisuke's erection brushed under him, (m/n) squirming and bucking his hips as the prince pulled him closer, grinding up against him.

"Fuck it." (m/n) downed the bottle, drinking three full gulps as he slammed it on the table, Daisuke cheering at his swig as the (h/c) leaned in to kiss his husband, making out with their tongues.

Their teeth clashed, gums rubbing together while (m/n) was swinging his hips, circling down on Daisuke's clothed cock. "You're so hot. Sexy little thing." The prince purred, his hand inching underneath (m/n)'s skirt as he ripped the (h/c)'s thin underwear.

(m/n) hissed in pain when Daisuke dipped a dry thumb into his hole, rubbing against his walls painfully. He gasped and moaned as the prince's other hands began to grip his ass, pulling at it, stretching his entrance.

He fell forward, his face buried into the crevice of Daisuke's neck who took the wine and dipped it all over his hand, using at as lube as he began to finger the consort.

"You're a bit tighter today than usual. Want my cock or fingers to loosen you up?" Daisuke blew a breath into (m/n)'s ear, two of his fingers stuffing his hole, stretching his rim. "F-Fingers first please." The (h/c) desperately loosen his skirt, pulling at the fabric to release his dripping cock, he was much more sensitive than he normally was.

Was it because they were in public? (m/n) drooled, seeing another man getting his mouth stuffed with two cocks but his attention was stolen by the prince who immediately shoved four fingers in when he noticed (m/n)'s eyes were straying.

"Eyes on me, sweetie. Don't make me mad. I wouldn't want to tear off all your clothes." Daisuke licked a stripe up his neck. "Unless you'd like that."

A shiver ran down the (h/c)'s spine as he unclipped his waist chain, letting the fabric fell into Daisuke's lip. The prince rubbing his digits into (m/n)'s walls, loosening his ass as he rutted his hips up, grinding against his husband.

The ravenette bunched up the fabric, tearing it from the chain and wrapped it around (m/n)'s waist, barely covering his bottom. "If we're going to do it, I prefer if not many are able to see us." "Mmmnn ahn! Are you seriously trying to cover us up? You're the one who started this- ahngg!"

There was a pink flush on Daisuke's cheek, his lips smirking as he wrangled his ass to push him to the brink of pleasure, (m/n) squirting on Daisuke's abs as he almost fell behind, the prince grabbing his arms.

"I'd like to see you cum on my own terms, dearest." "Or what?" (m/n) scoffed. "You'll get jealous?" Daisuke smirked to himself as he kissed the (h/c). "I'll burn down this whole hall if I have to." "That's so fucking hot." (m/n) groaned into his mouth, pressing his wet tongue into Daisuke's.

The (h/c) pushed the prince back, forcing him to sink into the cushion behind him as he leaned into the prince's open chest. (m/n) pressed his tongue flat on his pec, dragging it upwards to the valley in between, watching Daisuke who stared down at him with bated breaths.

His mask was already tilting to the side, it was a bad idea to choose one with a beak. (m/n) kept biting on Daisuke's tits, sinking his teeth, hearing his gasps and moans. He sucked on the pale flesh, admiring the reddening skin as he licked and sucked on his nipple next.

Daisuke bucked his hips up into (m/n)'s bottom as he clumsily pushed his pants down, letting his dick flop out freely, leaking precum. The (h/c) was too busy sucking on his chest, marking his man while Daisuke grabbed his waist, forcing him to sit on his cock.

"Mmnn-" He pulled off of the prince's breast with a pop. "Slowly, slowly..." He whined at Daisuke, sighing as he sank his hole, swallowing his hot dick in one push. (m/n) took his time, throwing his head back in fuzzy pleasure before Daisuke patted his thigh, urging him to move.

The consort took a deep breath before bringing his hips up and slammed himself down onto the prince's lap, yelping as he does so.

He adjusted himself on the sofa, feeling his legs shake as he bounced himself helplessly on the prince's cock. "Up and down, baby." Daisuke kissed his neck, sucking and pulling at the skin making (m/n) squirm and clench around his tip. "Yeah- mmnn! Just like that- anhh!" The prince moaned and licked into his ear as he came inside the consort, shooting ropes of sperm into his hole.

The (h/c) cupped his mouth, resisting the urge to scream as he quickly fucked himself on Daisuke, squeezing around his cock as tears brimmed at the corner of his eyes. "You're doing good." Daisuke cooed at him, rubbing his sides.

"Make a little noise for me, princess." (m/n) gasped as he came on the prince's dick. He had a few hiccups before crying out, Daisuke pinching his chest. "That's it, thaaaat's it." The prince dragged his words, praising the consort as (m/n) cried into his shoulder, whimpering why was he so sensitive at that moment.

He flinched when he felt someone touching him from behind. "Hey, can I have a turn? You have a beautiful man on you, I couldn’t help but be smitten." The man behind him purred, wanting to pull (m/n) before Daisuke swatted his hands away, hugging the (h/c) close to his chest.

"If you want to keep your hands, I suggest you back away." The prince seethed, glaring at him through the masquerade mask before the brunette from earlier came, diffusing the situation. "Hey hey, let's calm down here okay."

He turned to the unknown man. "Apologies but this couple is exclusive, I can have one of my peers entertain you instead." He shooed the stranger away before facing the pair. "Sorry about that. People here don't exactly have manners."

He handed a scroll tied with a felt rope to Daisuke, who took it silently, still holding (m/n) close. "It's all the info you need. I'll be expecting the payment by the day after tomorrow." The prince moved to leave but the brunette stopped him.

"Don't bother, stay here as long as you'd like. We all need to let loose sometimes, y'know." He winked at Daisuke before running off to a girl wearing a kinky BDSM garter. The prince scoffed, examining the scroll before his attention was stolen by the (h/c).

"Princey..." He whined. "I'm still- mnn! I'm still leaking..." (m/n) cried, tears running down his cheeks, his cock still dripping precum, an abnormal amount as Daisuke licked his tears.

"We'll do it as much as you'd like, my love."

The prince recklessly dropped the scroll, letting it roll underneath the sofa as he bent the consort over on the couch, slipping his cock back inside the mewling (h/c).

Time seemed to be a fleeting moment and by the end of it, (m/n) found himself full, his ass leaking, and his stomach painted with semen, a strand connected from his flaccid tip to his stained skin.

His body was marked with teeth indents, some were bleeding, the prince was heaving over him. Daisuke's chest was mostly red, with hickey littering his skin and his pants had been long gone.

It took them five hours to recollect themselves, (m/n) gaining consciousness as he realised Daisuke was still rutting into him mindlessly. He had to slap him sober so they would leave, thankfully there was a section provided to clean up themselves with spare clothes, with payment of course. The two finally left the building with the scroll in hand.

"The wine there was fucking laced! How the hell did you fall into their trap so fast?! That's how people kept coming back!" In a fit of anger, (m/n) scolded the bashful prince who was the one to drink the spiked wine.

"...It hadn't been opened yet..." Daisuke mumbled, a pout on his lips, despite that he had no regrets having sex around others.

Apparently, the supplier of the wine had them custom-brewed, infused with aphrodisiac so people would return to the orgy, a harmful yet successful tactic.

Both of them had returned to their chambers and slept for eight hours and when the (h/c) had woken up, Daisuke was still drooling on his pillow, his body slack in his sleep. (m/n) rolled his eyes and was about to leave the bed to get himself some tidbits but noticed the paper untied on the bedside next to Daisuke.

The reason of why Daisuke had reached out to his 'friend' remained unknown in his mind, curiosity got the better off him as he reached for the scroll and read through its contacts.

It was a long list of people, brokers, clients and at the top of the list were mercenaries with the symbol of a lion. (m/n) hesitated to read the rest of the contents he rolled the paper back up. It was clear that Daisuke was investigating on the motive of the ambush the (h/c) had endured and seeing the remains of those mercenaries, (m/n) knew it was going to be bloody.

Dirty jobs aren't for people like him so (m/n) essentially just minded his own business and let his husband do as he wishes. By the time he had returned to the bedroom, the scroll was nowhere to be seen with Daisuke perching on the bed, happy that he had brought some snacks.

A few more days passed by peacefully and Daisuke finally revealed his surprise. The image of the (h/c)'s family had long appeared on his mind, and he certainly broke down in his mother's arms when his parents and his older brother appeared in the lobby of their mansion.

The prince had arranged an invite for the Dukedom after Daisuke had found out that the reason (m/n) wanted the summerhouse to be located near the borders was so that his family didn't have to travel far to the East Palace to visit him.

(m/n) whined to his parents about how cruel Daisuke had treated him and his brother saw right through his lies, pinching at his cheeks while Daisuke and his father was chatting by the sidelines.

The consort considered this to be one of the most memorable gifts Daisuke had presented to him, waving goodbye to his family after a two-day stay and they decided to spend their last night of their vacation out on the harbor by the lake.

"So, were you able to get all that you needed from your broker friend?" Amidst the glistening waves of the lake, the moonlight was more than enough to reflect light in their eyes, a small picnic with some tidbits in a basket. (m/n) popped a few grapes into his mouth as Daisuke began prepping his self-made sandwich.

"I was. He was more than helpful, more honest after a few bags of gold. But he is a reasonable man." The prince swiped the condiments onto his bread with a butter knife, (m/n) rolling his eyes at his reply. "He conducts orgies, Your Highness. How is that reasonable?" "Everyone's nasty down there one way or another."

A noise of disgust escaped his throat, (m/n) gagging on the thought of going back there again as he stole the sandwich Daisuke made. "Hey, that's mine." The (h/c) took a bite before Daisuke could retrieve it back. "Mediocre at best."

"I'm not your chef, you twat." Laughter could be heard from the couple, both of them eating from the same plate since (m/n) was too lazy to lift a finger and he positioned himself to sit in front of Daisuke, folding his legs as he leaned back into Daisuke's chest, both of them gazing at the moon.

"Do you think it's flat?" "We are not having this conversation."

(m/n) snuggled in further, him holding out his hand to admire his wedding band. "I couldn't believe we are an actual couple now..." He whispered in a hushed voice. The prince looked down to him, his nose nudging against the (h/c)'s cheek.

"We're compatible. I can't imagine myself with any other." Daisuke mumbled, pecking at (m/n)'s cheek. The latter sighed, sinking further into the prince. "...How long do you think we'll last?" The (h/c) inquired curiously.

"When the sun decides to rain fire on us, even then I won't let you go." A chuckle from Daisuke, the consort feeling the rumble from his chest. A heavy confession hung from his heart, a fleeting beat that had the aftertaste of a sweet fruit.

Memories of the prince holding him flashed through his mind. Their adventures, their flashy affairs and their sour harmony in tandem. The (h/c) knew he had fallen for the prince. Once again, he gave up his pride, and it drained his denial. (m/n) fidgeted the end of his shirt as he pulled a loose string, snapping it from his garment.

"I love you."

The prince's eyes seemed to snap wide open, the breeze of the night soothing (m/n)'s growing heat in his cheeks, feeling bashful and flushed. Daisuke kissed his face, peppering them all over as he kissed his lips last.

"I love you as well."

(m/n) buried his face with his hands, shielding his embarrassed expression while the prince was too happy to even notice, showering his husband with affection. Their last night of their long vacation was spent together, holding in each other's arms by the harbor, as the two finally accepted their love for each other.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

EXTRA CONTENT:

Shortly after their public jerking off with each other...

"Can you move it to the left? That's about right." Daisuke was present with contractors in the greenhouse, after their public rendezvous, the prince decided that they should have a more accessible place to rest.

The workers moved a circular frame, positioning it to Daisuke's desire. It was a foundation for a new furniture. "Yeah, yeah...can you make something of a bed? Or one of those really big cushions you can...rest on. That's definitely the word."

The prince grinned to himself, imagining (m/n) laying on the circular mattress sideways, with petals of roses surrounding the consort. He can't wait to fuck (m/n) on this thing.

It took a moment for him to realise the rest of them were staring at him, unimpressed expressions behind their polite smile. "I'll take my leave now- make sure its STURDY OKAY MANY THANKS!" He ran away as fast as he could, excited to give the news to the consort.

-

A deleted draft, after their argument/confession on the field...

(m/n) was pulled by his hand, Daisuke guiding him, their feet trudging through the green grass. The (h/c)'s face was puffy, wet from crying as he felt a weigh curling in his crotch.

Why is he dressed so fucking handsome...(m/n) gritted his teeth, staring at Daisuke's ass before he stopped in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" The prince looked back, his eyes had bags underneath them, his sclera red from tears. (m/n) bit his bottom lip before effectively jumping on the prince, Daisuke barely managing to catch him in his arms as they fell to the ground.

"LOOK AWAY- LOOK AWAY I TELL YOU!!" The guards immediately faced the other way, red hues painted on their cheeks.

By the time (m/n) was done humping on top of Daisuke, he had soiled his pants, walking off with a relieved sigh as he left the breathless prince who was now rock hard.

"What about me??" "Take care of it yourself."

The prince gave chase, adamant to wrangle the consort who quickly sprinted away, the two laughing and running in the halls of the Emerald Palace.

-

Daisuke training...

"I don't get why I have to come here. It's smelly and for sweaty people-" (m/n)'s whinings were cut off when his eye caught the prince, swinging his swords against two knights in a training arena.

Daisuke was in a tight black shirt, his chest hugged by the fabric and (m/n) thought he should start a clothing line specifically for muscular men because damn some of them need a bra.

He bit his nails, seeing his thighs move as the prince quickly evaded the attack by a knight and jammed the wooden sword into his chest, knocking him down. He defeated the other guard in a breeze, the other soldiers clapping for the prince's victory.

(m/n) let out a quiet, deep humming, quickly taking the stairs down where Daisuke was exiting the arena.

"Oh, (m/n)! You're already here-" Immediately the prince was pulled into a corner, (m/n) dropping on his knees, pulling at his belt and grinding on his foot, begging to suck his dick right then and there.

Daisuke had his eyes popped out for a second before pulling the consort back to his feet. "Just a moment, dearest. Wouldn't want to give them a show." He purred, bringing the consort into one of the barracks, kissing the consort as he pushed him down to his knees.

[Afterthoughts]

Guess who’s the flat earther lmao. I never watched Bridgerton. I should do it one day. Arabic poems are great btw. The extras aren’t fully canon, it’s just sexy scenes I had contemplated on adding. I thought of adding Emperor Aurelius’ son for a scene but I didn’t want to because it would go too deep into the non-existent lore.

When Daisuke was yelling at reader how much he loves him, I resisted the urge to write “(m/n) was gagged.”

When I wrote the dialogue, I don’t intend to fully use formal or old English, never took a course for the language except for in high school and I wanted the fic to be more understandable for the readers cuz let’s face it, just get to the damn point, I don’t need a paragraph to know someone is sleeping in a dark room.

THIS FIC IS SO FUCKING SHIT IM AWARE so be nice to me thanks </3

I intentionally used a mix of modern English/slangs/ and formal ones because I had writer’s block recently so things aren’t going the best for me right now.

There's a fun easter egg around the ending, somewhere on the harbor so if anyone guessed it right, props to u!

HUGE shoutout to @jaythes1mp for helping me rewrite some of the parts, I felt so dumb yet so smarter now. And also HUGE shoutout to @kiiyoooo for reading and helping me correct some of the scenes. They didn’t beta read the whole fic, only one part of it (the emotional ones) and if u noticed the shifting quality stfu pls I cant do this rn tq!/srs im sorry

There was a problem with the formatting (i think i pasted it twice and had to manually remove them) so if there is repeating paragraphs, let me know thanks, ill check it properly tomorrow

Daisuke if (m/n) found his ex at the orgy:

(m/n) twice a day:

Taglist:

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin @jaxyy219 @mikahrh @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @pinxeajin @gyarukitti @syyyy4ever @pato-spoiler-27 @citrusequalsfrogs @animefan106sposts @bensontrechic @partywalker @gaynesspersonified @yanrandom @theorye @jentlesoldier @apotatoishereee @blepp0c @luciusclover @mazunzunne @basketbaal

Only prince daisuke:

@kingcomet

[pin-k-ink]

lazy day // suna rintarou

tw ⇢ friends to lovers, making out, biting, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, begging, multiple orgasms

wc ⇢ 5.7k

The buzzer sounded just after noon, and you grinned as you hit the button to allow Suna entry into your apartment complex's lobby. It was just like any other lazy weekend day when your old friend would swing by to hang out, watch bad movies, and inevitably find some way to engage in your long-running campaigns of relentless shit-talking between fits of laughter.

You had known Suna Rintarou for years now, long enough for any initial awkwardness or uncertainty in his company to have faded away into the well-worn comfort of real friendship. He was one of the few people with whom you could spend hours upon hours just existing in each other's space without it ever feeling stilted or forced.

By the time his trademark dual-toned drawl of "oi, I'm coming in" echoed down the hall toward your door, you were already kicking off your slippers and assuming the usual sprawl across the sofa - ready for an afternoon of pure, familiar vibes. The telltale rap of knuckles against your entry had you calling out for him to enter without bothering to get up and answer it yourself.

When Suna appeared around the corner, he was already looking perfectly at home in your space as usual - stylishly rumpled t-shirt untucked to hang loose over slim athletic shorts that separated to reveal a teasing glimpse of toned thighs and calves with each lazy stride. His hair was artfully mussed as if he'd rolled straight out of bed and onto your doorstep, radiating the type of effortless charisma and striking features that might have made you self-conscious in the presence of someone you knew less intimately.

As it was, you simply quirked an eyebrow at him and reached for the game controller resting on the coffee table. "Looking hopelessly hungover as always, Rintarou," you quipped without missing a beat. "You'd think making the national team would mean they teach you better hydration habits."

"Not all of us slob around in stained sweats every time we have a lazy day," Suna fired back smoothly, dropping down onto the opposite end of the sofa from you with careless grace. His dark, hooded gaze somehow conveyed pointed judgment even as one corner of those perpetually smirking lips quirked higher. "Some of us like to maintain at least a bare minimum of personal standards."

You scoffed loudly, purposefully stretching your legs out to drape obnoxiously across his lap - wiggling your barefeet in his face with a wicked grin. The tip of Suna's nose crinkled with distaste as he tried and failed to shove your ankles away, making no secret of his displeasure.

"Personal standards, my ass," you crowed, taking petty delight in his discomfort. "You're just prioritizing sleazy looks over comfort in a desperate plea for attention, as usual."

When Suna's large hands succeeded in shoving your legs off his lap, it was your turn to grouse in annoyance at having your prime lounging real estate revoked. But you maintained the teasing smirk as you sat up properly and bumped his shoulder with your own.

"Besides, you really think a slob like me even registers on anyone's attractiveness radar? Unlike some posers I could mention."

There was a weighted pause then as your playful ribbing lapsed into something thicker, more weighted. Suna slowly turned to face you more fully, analytical gaze flickering over your features with unmistakable intent. You resisted the urge to squirm under the sudden scrutiny.

"You might be surprised," he said at last, quiet words slicing through the tension with their ambiguous double meaning.

Your breath hitched minutely as you registered the undercurrent of suggestion baked into that simple statement, gaze momentarily dropping to trace the obscene curves of Suna's mouth before flicking hurriedly back to his lidded, piercing stare.

Did he just...? Or was that simply Suna being his usual quietly provocative self, skating the line between casual commentary and subtle flirtation in that masterful way of his? You swallowed hard against the strange spiral of heat that single heavy look had sent unfurling low in your abdomen.

Before you could think better of it, you leaned in closer until the space separating you from Suna's striking features had narrowed into something unmistakably charged. "Is that so?" You heard yourself murmur, holding his gaze boldly despite the sudden thundering of your pulse. "Do tell..."

For a protracted moment, the atmosphere thickened further, both of you suspended in fraught consideration of the intimate boundary you were toying with blurring. Suna's lips parted slightly on an indrawn breath, dark eyes dipping briefly down to your own parted mouth before reconnecting in smoldering lock.

Then the spell was abruptly broken by two things:

First, Suna reaching over to snake the gaming controller from your lax grip, nimble fingers ghosting against yours in a feather-light brush of contact that sent tingles rushing straight down your spine. The second was the low, sandpaper-rough rasp of his tone undercutting the heavy tension with a teasing edge.

"You wish you knew," he murmured, lips curving into one of those signature smirks that could make your insides clench with how arresting it looked painted across those striking features. "I'd shatter that simple mind of yours into a million pieces."

He accompanied the provocative statement with a slow, pointed once-over of your dumbstruck form that had heat prickling across your skin anew.

"Now quit hogging the controls, or I'll wipe the floor with your score like always."

Just like that, the heavy atmosphere seemed to evaporate - replaced by the comfortable cadences of well-worn camaraderie and low-stakes competition. Except this time there was an undercurrent of heightened awareness that refused to dissipate completely no matter how much you tried to will it away.

You found yourself hyper-focused on little things like the brush of Suna's bare arm against your own each time he shifted position, or the deep timbre of his voice sending subtle vibrations across your hypersensitive nerve endings whenever your bodies drifted too close on the couch. Even something as innocuous as the shifting of muscles in his shoulders and biceps as he maneuvered the game controller was enough to set your pulse fluttering with a strange, avid sort of attention.

Suna, damn him, seemed to barely register the newfound tension singing through your form as he remained focused on trying to narrate over the gameplay with that usual brand of cutting snark and obscenely bitten-off curses. His posture was deceptively relaxed as he slouched back into the cushions in that effortlessly sensual way of his, clearly still operating under the assumption that this was just another routine hang session.

But for you...nothing felt quite so pedestrian any longer. Not after you'd both tiptoed up to the precipice of that scorching new intimacy and gotten a tantalizing glimpse of the unfamiliar vistas lying in wait on the other side. You were profoundly, viscerally aware of Suna's nearness in a way that neutered all compulsions to keep viewing him in that safe, established light of long-time platonic companionship.

Instead, you kept finding yourself helplessly drinking in details and dynamics you'd allowed yourself to overlook or take for granted until now. The long, sinewy lines of his neck tapering into sharp, defined collarbones that disappeared tantalizingly beneath the scooped collar of his shirt. The hypnotic flex and release of biceps tensing beneath bronzed skin during particularly intense bouts of trash-talking over the game.

Oftentimes your straying gaze would stray further, taking the opportunity to indulge in dragging your heavy-lidded stare across the lean, powerful expanse of Suna's exposed abdomen - admiring the cuts of muscle etched there beneath a thin sheen of perspiration and imagining how those ridges would feel branding against your palms, your inner thighs...

Inevitably, you would tear your hooded eyes away with shuddering inhalation, a pulse of molten heat lancing straight to your core and leaving a dull, liquid ache throbbing between your legs. This was your oldest friend you were ogling like a piece of meat here - someone whose physical form you should have long since adjusted to seeing in every context without a scintilla of indecent thoughts intruding.

Yet damned if the newfound promise of intimacy sparked between you earlier hadn't set your subconscious reproductive drive into painfully heightened sensitivity - tuned to appreciate the eroticism and aesthetic of Suna's gloriously honed body down to its most minute, tantalizing details. Of course, he seemed utterly oblivious to the roiling conflict of compulsions making itself known in your ungoverned lapses from nonchalant coolness into burning longing.

That is...right up until one of those heated lapses in your focus resulted in you reflexively licking your lips while drinking in the sensual view of Suna's arms - lean but corded with flexing sinew - as he delivered a particularly searing verbal takedown of your lamentable gaming session.

To your bright shock and dismay, those richly hooded eyes you found so aesthetically arresting captured the motion instantly. You watched with frozen tension as Suna's trash-talking trailed off mid-sentence, lips parting with the unmistakable glimmer of realization flickering through his turbulent stare as it tracked your own molten regard.

Pinned speechless under the escalating weight of that unmasked look, you could do nothing as the heavy seconds stretched out and your respective roles - that of long-time best friends just hanging and fucking around, grew increasingly tenuous. There was no mistaking the shift of energy between you as Suna reached up to run a hand through his tousled hair, casually showcasing the flex and drag of his long, strong fingers through dark strands in a strangely intimate pantomime.

"Having trouble concentrating?" he husked out at last, sotto voce inflection bearing enough blatant suggestion to stoke the rapidly kindling blaze of lust now roaring in your lower belly to an outright conflagration. You watched, dry-mouthed and transfixed, as his tongue darted out to trace the plush curves of his lower lip - mirroring your own subconscious gesture of yearning just moments earlier.

When you managed a fractional shake of your head, voice failing you utterly, you saw clear flashes of intent and scorching arousal blaze to vivid life in the glittering depths of Suna's heavy-lidded gaze. The game controller tumbled abandoned to the floor as he prowled forward until his long, muscular frame was hovering bare inches from your own tingling, heated skin. You could feel the erratic puffs of his breath fanning across your slackened features as he drank in the sight of you utterly enthralled.

"Then let me help you focus..." Suna rasped against your searing skin, mouth a hair's breadth from yours. Any further protests, any attempts at maintaining propriety or equilibrium, fled before the promise of rapture blazing in that final, weighted moment between you.

His lips ghosted your own in a barely-there touch, igniting every hyper-sensitive stretch of nerve endings until all that existed was the liquid, throbbing maelstrom of your mutual wanting. When you unconsciously lurched forward to seal the contact between you with a desperate whine...

Suna didn't give you a chance to fully close the infinitesimal distance between your parted, yearning lips. With a low, guttural sound of impatient arousal, he surged forward - broad palms cradling your face with surprising gentleness even as his mouth came crashing down over yours in a searing, demanding kiss.

The contact was electric, whiteout pleasure jolting down your hyper-sensitized nerves at the initial slick glide of Suna's tongue licking insistently against the seam of your lips. You parted for him on a breathless keen, finally surrendering fully and allowing him to plunder the molten recesses of your mouth in a dizzying spiral of dominance and desperation.

His kiss was every bit as intense and consuming as you'd allowed your treacherous fantasies to envision during all those stolen heated glances from the corners of your eyes - an unhurried, sensual cyclone of lips, teeth, and questing tongue that rapidly had your fingers fisting into the soft fabric of his shirt simply to keep yourself grounded. When the first rumbling groan of appreciation vibrated from Suna's chest into the trembling hollows of your own, you thought you might shatter apart from the intoxicating onslaught.

It was a struggle to maintain even a modicum of coordinated thought with the blazing distraction of Suna's mouth doing such punishing, profane things to your senses. But you were somewhat aware of one broad palm sliding down from where it had been cradling the nape of your neck to splay hotly across the span of your lower back. Then deeper still until thick fingers found the generous swell of your ass and kneaded the yielding flesh there with insolent possession and need.

That proprietary caress sent a giddy spiral of heat lancing straight to your core. You whimpered in a haze against the velvet glide of Suna's tongue undulating so wickedly against your own and arched instinctively, pressing your chest harder against the hard ridges of his own as you unconsciously sought more unbearable friction.

Suna made a low, hungry sound deep in his throat at the wanton motion and the sensation of your lithe form writhing so feverishly in counterpoint to his dominance. His hand momentarily abandoned its thorough exploration of every lush curve to instead fist convulsively against your throat, barring your arching retreat and binding you in the scalding, breathless cavern of his devouring kiss.

You moaned outright at the borderline-aggressive display of appetite and possession, shuddering as your body responded with another involuntary wave of liquid heat gushing between your clenching thighs. Every raw instinct was howling for you to twine yourself around the hot, unyielding lines of Suna's powerful physique until you were effectively immobilized in his embrace, slave to whatever raptures he deemed to inflict upon your senses.

But before you could even muster the coordination to attempt wrapping your legs around his narrow hips and haul him bodily on top of you, Suna tore his mouth away in a ragged gasp. His eyes blazed with an incandescent storm of lust and something darker, more primal - an infinite well of compulsions barely leashed behind adamant ridges of self-control.

In that searing, suspended moment where you both gulped down one ragged breath after another, Suna's gaze was like a physical caress - scorching a lascivious path across every one of your features rendered feverish and dewy from the intensity of his kisses. His fingers continued kneading insistently against your nape, every teasing scrape of calloused fingertips sending sparking waves of blissful torment arcing down your sensitized nerves.

"Don't even think about stopping now," Suna growled against the swollen crest of your bottom lip before sucking the tender flesh between his teeth in a sharp nip that wrenched an inarticulate sound of desperation from you. "We're just getting started."

True to his word, the next searing collision of your mouths dissolved whatever remaining shreds of propriety or restraint had still persisted between you. Any concept of stopping things before they spiraled into outright debauchery simply evaporated under the unholy lashings of Suna's relentless, all-consuming passion.

He seized you by the hips and simply hauled you forward until your heated bodies were flush together, legs hopelessly tangled as he proceeded to lay an scorching path of biting kisses down your jawline and throat. Your head lolled back in blind rapture, both hands burying convulsively into Suna's thick, sweat-dampened locks as he nibbled and sucked at the vulnerable juncture where your pulse rabbited beneath silken flesh.

Every nerve in your body was strumming with fiery need, skin prickling and hypersensitive as if lying exposed against the blazing desert sands at high noon. Each scrape of Suna's teeth and calloused caresses felt like molten brands in their wake, driving both of you towards a fever pitch of outright delirium that was rapidly proving insurmountable.

All the while, the cavalcade of filthy compliments and growled encouragements continued to pour from Suna's lips between each punishing new worship against your skin - each one more scandalizing than the last in their absolutely shameless appreciation of your rapidly-overheating senses. You could only keen and writhe shamelessly in return, far too intoxicated by the storm of sensations to offer any coherent responses beyond breathless mewls of blissed-out acquiescence.

"So fucking gorgeous like this...hot and desperate and ready for me to take you apart," Suna husked against the swollen peaks of your nipples – which had hardened into insistent buds clearly visible through the thin cotton of your shirt at some point during the proceedings.

He raked his sharpened canines over the taut fabric in deliberate torment, drinking in the way your back arched convulsively at the electric sensation with that same burning stare from beneath hooded lids. When his broad palms shoved the thin barrier of material aside to finally bare your sensitized breasts to his scorching mouth, you cried out in wordless bliss...only to find your raptures muffled against the searing, eager crush of Suna's lips an instant later.

He swallowed down every cry and whimper with a ravenous hunger, his dexterous tongue twining sinuously with your own even as his broad palms continued to knead and toy with the heaving mounds of your chest with wanton greed. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been so utterly lost to the throes of pleasure - your entire being consumed by the scalding slide of lips, tongues, and questing fingers against the heated contours of your quivering body.

When Suna's teeth caught and pinched sharply against one erect nipple, you nearly shattered apart from the overwhelming sensation. Your inner walls clenched reflexively, a fresh flood of molten heat pulsing through your core as your hips rocked helplessly in a desperate search for more stimulation.

Suna swore raggedly at the way you moaned and shivered in his arms, the low, graveled rasp of his voice resonating straight down your spine and making the aching void between your thighs spasm. In one fluid motion, he released his possessive hold on your abused, spit-slick nipples to instead grip the waistband of your sweats.

The thin cotton and cotton panties beneath were summarily dragged down your thighs, leaving you utterly exposed and panting with wanton anticipation. You felt rather than saw Suna's heated gaze sweeping across the naked planes of your body, taking in the full glory of your quivering thighs spread wide and the glistening slick of desire staining the plump folds of your cunt.

When he reached up and traced a long, calloused finger down the glistening seam of your weeping slit, you nearly sobbed at the exquisite feeling of relief - arching wantonly against his questing hand and grinding your sensitive clit against his knuckles in a bid for more friction. Suna's nostrils flared as he watched you writhe wantonly against his palm, dark eyes blazing with unrestrained need as they roved hungrily across every inch of flushed skin laid bare for him to see.

"Fucking look at you...all hot and needy, just begging for it," he rasped, his voice gone husky and thick with lust. You watched, breath hitching as he slowly raised his hand to his face and dragged the wet fingers that had been stroking and teasing your soaked folds across his full, swollen lips.

Then, holding your rapt, stunned stare, he dipped his head forward and slowly licked the slick coating off his digits in one deliberate swipe. Your stomach clenched with arousal at the erotic sight, the sound of his appreciative hum at your taste sending a fresh gush of wetness to slick the sensitive folds between your legs.

"And you taste like a fucking dream..." Suna murmured, the corner of his lips quirking as he registered the fresh rush of moisture that had spilled out at his salacious gesture. He gave you one last slow, deliberate drag of his fingers along your pulsing seam, savoring the way you squirmed and trembled against the delicious friction.

Then his dark, predatory gaze snapped up to lock with your own as his broad hands came up to grip the backs of your knees and shove them wide. You couldn't hold back a shuddering gasp at the sudden motion, your entire body flushing with renewed heat as you realized how shamelessly exposed and vulnerable you were to Suna's piercing regard.

"Gonna eat you out until you can't even remember your name," he vowed, the rough edge of lust saturating his low drawl sending a fresh, giddy rush of desire spiking through your overheated senses. You could only moan in reply, eyes fluttering closed as his palms slid up the inside of your trembling thighs, thumbs teasing the sensitive creases where leg met pelvis before trailing across your swollen folds.

Then his long fingers were spreading you obscenely open for him, and you were suddenly drowning in the most exquisite, mind-melting pleasure as his hot, insistent tongue swept along your soaked slit. Every nerve ending seemed to spark to vivid life under the dizzying onslaught, your whole world shrinking to the scorching, sinful drag of Suna's mouth against the swollen petals of your cunt.

He licked and sucked at your drenched core with wanton greed, lapping up the fresh surge of wetness that had spilled forth from the erotic sight and sound of his own lewd devotions. When his agile tongue finally found its way up to circle around the taut bud of your clit, you keened and bucked wantonly against his mouth, all sense of modesty and dignity erased in the all-consuming firestorm of your shared arousal.

Suna moaned in appreciation at the shameless display, the vibrations reverberating straight down your hypersensitized flesh and sending another pulse of molten heat throbbing through your molten core. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and hauled you closer, locking your writhing body against the unyielding, scalding heat of his own and burying his face ever deeper against your dripping cunt.

There was no room left for coherent thought as Suna proceeded to lap and suck at your swollen, sensitive folds, the wet sounds of his tongue gliding through your slick folds and the wanton, broken moans escaping from your lips combining into a symphony of lust. The rhythmic drag of his talented tongue was relentless, the wicked suction of his mouth almost painful in its perfection.

Each new surge of pleasure had you writhing harder against Suna's merciless ministrations, the tension building at the base of your spine threatening to snap any moment. Just when the pleasure was reaching its zenith, the tip of his tongue suddenly plunged inside your aching entrance, thrusting in deep and hard to lap at the silken inner walls of your weeping core.

The feeling of his velvety tongue probing so deeply into the tight, grasping depths of your cunt was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge, the orgasm exploding through your senses with an intensity that left you seeing stars. Your head fell back against the cushions as you thrashed and cried out, fingers burying themselves once more into the thick tangle of Suna's hair as you rode his tongue through the searing aftershocks.

Only once the last shudders of ecstasy had faded did he release his punishing grip on your thighs, allowing your body to sag against the cushions as you fought to regain equilibrium. When you finally managed to crack open a bleary eye, it was to find him hovering over you, the sharp angles and planes of his features softened into a rare, genuine smile.

You could feel the warm puff of his breath caressing the skin of your cheek as he leaned closer, the subtle scent of his musk and sweat mingling with the more potent aroma of your combined arousal. Then his lips were ghosting feather-light against yours, the soft brush sending little jolts of residual electricity through your already sensitized nerve endings.

"I'll be honest," Suna murmured, the raspy edge to his voice somehow making the simple words sound indecent and erotic. "I never imagined that would happen, but fuck, it was even hotter than I could've hoped for. How about you?"

When you didn't respond immediately, his hooded eyes searched your features and a slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Still speechless? I must have really done a number on you then."

The teasing quip was accompanied by the sudden brush of a calloused palm trailing a scorching path up your thigh, coming to a stop right at the junction where hip met pelvis. You shuddered and tried to summon up the brainpower to fire off a suitably witty retort, only to end up moaning instead when two long, dexterous fingers suddenly slid against your drenched core.

Suna chuckled, clearly pleased by the reaction, and leaned closer to murmur against the shell of your ear. "But I'm not done with you yet," he husked, punctuating the statement by thrusting those questing digits up into your slick channel, causing a fresh wave of molten heat to flood your aching walls.

You gasped at the sudden invasion, inner muscles clenching and fluttering around the thick intrusion as the rest of Suna's weight settled over your trembling form. He hooked his fingers deep, dragging his knuckles along your tender inner walls in a sinfully decadent motion that made your toes curl.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, his voice dropping to a rough growl that sent an answering throb straight down to the apex of your thighs. You felt his teeth catch against the sensitive skin below your ear, biting down gently and eliciting a fresh shiver of arousal. "And you're going to feel even tighter around my cock..."

His fingers twisted and curled again, setting off another cascade of sparks behind your eyelids. A wanton moan spilled from your lips, only to be stifled as Suna's tongue plunged into the cavern of your mouth. He kissed you deep and wet and filthy, letting you taste the heady musk of your own arousal on his lips.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both gasping for air, the air thick with the scent of sex and pheromones. Suna's dark eyes were blown wide with lust, his cock throbbing and heavy against the soft curve of your belly. You could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest, his skin slick with sweat as he pressed against you, trapping you against the couch cushions.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he rasped, the raw desire in his tone sending another bolt of liquid heat pooling in your core. His fingers were still buried deep, stretching you open with slow, deliberate thrusts that had your back arching and toes curling with each delicious slide.

"God, please..." you moaned, unable to help yourself. It was all too much and not enough, the sensation of being filled and stretched so thoroughly sending shivers of pleasure racing up and down your spine. You could feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, your whole body tightening with anticipation.

Suna's gaze was burning, his lips curled in a smug smirk as he watched your reactions. His fingers worked in and out of you, twisting and curling in a torturous rhythm that had you keening and squirming beneath him.

"Please what?" he purred, voice dripping with smugness and lust. You couldn't believe how utterly wrecked you sounded, your words a garbled mess of pleading and desire.

"Please, Suna, I need you...need to feel you inside me..."

A low, feral sound rumbled in his chest, the vibration resonating throughout his powerful frame and sending a fresh shiver down your spine. His free hand slid up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing over your parted, swollen lips.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He withdrew his fingers slowly, savoring the way you shuddered and whimpered at the loss. Then he reached down, gripping his throbbing length and sliding it along your dripping folds.

"Let me hear you scream my name when I fuck you senseless."

And with that, he plunged into you in a single, fluid stroke. Your head fell back against the pillows, a cry of bliss ripping from your throat as his thick cock filled you, stretching you open with his girth. You could feel him throbbing inside you, his heartbeat matching yours as he buried himself to the hilt.

Suna's breathing was ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire as he looked down at you. His hips rolled, grinding his cock against your aching walls, drawing out a strangled moan. He set a slow, deep rhythm, the slide of his shaft dragging along every inch of sensitive tissue in your core.

Your hands came up to clutch at his broad shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle and sinew there as you struggled to hold on. Suna's eyes were locked on yours, his expression intense as he fucked you with steady, measured thrusts. His teeth caught your bottom lip, the sudden pain sending a jolt of pleasure racing down your spine.

You could feel the pressure building again, your entire body tightening like a coiled spring. The heat in the pit of your stomach was growing more intense, a liquid heat coursing through your veins. Every thrust of Suna's cock was driving you closer and closer to the edge, the delicious friction setting your nerves on fire.

You could feel the pressure mounting, the tension in your lower belly drawing taut until it was almost unbearable. Suna's hips rolled, grinding his cock against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

"Fuck!" you cried, the sound muffled against the hot press of his mouth.

"That's right, sweetheart," he groaned, his pace picking up as he drove into you. "Come for me. Come for me, and I'll fill you up nice and deep."

The filthy promise was enough to tip you over the edge. You shattered around him, pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your muscles clenched around him, your inner walls rippling around his cock.

Suna grunted, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. He fucked you through your orgasm, his hips pistoning furiously as he sought his own. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted as he neared the edge.

Suddenly, his entire body stiffened, a shudder running through him as his cock twitched and jerked inside you. Warmth flooded your core as he came, his seed filling you. The feeling of his hot spend inside you, marking you, was enough to trigger a second orgasm, your body writhing beneath him as you rode the wave of pleasure.

Suna's arms wrapped around you, his breathing ragged as he buried his face in your neck. You clung to him, fingers digging into his skin as you both fought to catch your breath. After what felt like an eternity, the haze of ecstasy began to recede, the reality of the situation settling in.

As the euphoric afterglow gradually ebbed away, a wave of disorientation crashed over you - leaving you struggling to reconcile the sudden shift in dynamics between you and your best friend. It didn't help that Suna still had you pinned beneath his lean, muscular frame, his cock softening inside you as his labored breaths continued to fan across your cheek.

Your mind was still reeling from the unexpected turn the evening had taken, and you could feel the telltale prickle of anxiety beginning to creep along the fringes of your consciousness. Before you could fully descend into the familiar spiral of self-doubt and regret, Suna lifted his head, pinning you in place with that same piercing gaze.

"Don't start getting weird on me now," he drawled, the lazy rasp to his voice doing little to mask the thread of steel underlying the warning. You blinked owlishly, trying and failing to gather enough wits about you to formulate a coherent response.

"Wha–"

"I said," he interjected, voice dropping into that low, authoritative purr that somehow managed to send a fresh jolt of desire shooting straight to your core despite the lingering fatigue weighing down your limbs. "Don't start getting weird on me, or I'll fuck that anxious little look right off your face."

When you gaped up at him in slack-jawed disbelief, Suna smirked.

"Just giving you a taste of what's coming if you start to doubt me. And this." His hand swept down the length of your body in a possessive caress, eliciting a sharp hiss of pleasure-pain as the rough calluses on his palm scraped over your abused nipples. "What we've just done here is just the start, and I can guarantee it'll only get more intense from here on out. So keep that in mind before you go and ruin a perfectly good post-orgasmic cuddle with that self-deprecating shit."

"But..." you protested weakly, struggling to find some kind of anchor in the midst of the chaos. "How do you even know I was about to...?"

Suna snorted, the derisive sound managing to convey exactly how stupid he found the question. "You've been my best friend for how long now? You think I don't know your anxious ticks and tells by now?"

He leaned in closer, the dark glimmer in his eyes sending a fresh shiver of apprehension and anticipation down your spine. "But that's all the more reason to trust me when I say it's going to be fine. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this – how long I've wanted you, and this is only the beginning."

The confession stunned you, your eyes widening as a new surge of emotion rose up in your chest. Your heart fluttered, a giddy warmth flooding through your veins and making your toes curl with delight. Suna's expression softened at the sight, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Before you could formulate a response, his mouth slanted over yours, the slow, sinuous glide of his tongue against yours banishing any remaining doubts and fears in a wash of pure bliss. Your eyelids fluttered closed, your body melting bonelessly against his as you surrendered to the exquisite sensation.

When the kiss finally broke, Suna was wearing that infuriating, smug grin you'd come to associate with the most devastating, game-changing wins. You glared at him half-heartedly, unable to maintain the act for more than a few seconds under the force of his knowing stare.

"I hate you," you muttered, even as you wound your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. Suna chuckled, his fingers carding soothingly through the tangled strands of your hair.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now, how about we get cleaned up and then we can continue this in your bedroom?"

[witchywithwhiskey]

tempting fate on the terrace

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you're relaxing on bucky's penthouse terrace and eating ice cream when he tempts you into something more

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, come play, light teasing, light overstimulation, finger sucking, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, little bit of exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff

word count: 2,900ish

a/n: y'all have @biteofcherry to blame for this follow up, because i couldn't get her idea out of my head and i just had to write it 😅 i'm so so so so so happy with how this turned out. i kind of can't get enough of these naughty little lovebirds, i just love them so much!!! and i hope y'all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! ♡

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

The spring sunshine was perfectly warm on your face, and you stretched your legs out, sinking further into the soft cushions of the outdoor sofa as you considered whether you should trade in your Brooklyn brownstone for a Manhattan penthouse. Specifically a penthouse with a terrace as pretty as the one belonging to Bucky Barnes. 

You licked your ice cream cone thoughtfully, gazing through the greenery that had been set up around the edge of the terrace to give it a sense of privacy. The whole of Manhattan seemed to sprawl beyond the edge of Bucky’s penthouse and you enjoyed the view almost as much as you loved the tree-lined Brooklyn street where you lived.

But your brownstone didn’t have a concierge to go buy ice cream and cones so you could have a delightful treat after being ruined by one of the most powerful CEOs in the city—who also happened to be your father’s business rival. That said, your apartment did have a bagel store around the block with the best bagels in New York City…

You were distracted from comparing the benefits of your home to Bucky’s by the door to the terrace sliding open with a soft sound. The man who had been nothing more than your father’s business rival—until he’d become much, much more—paused just outside the door, his hands slipping into the pockets of his lounge pants while he stared at you lazing about on his outdoor sofa.

You grinned, taking a long lick of your ice cream as you stared right back at him. He looked deliciously comfortable in his lounge pants and simple gray t-shirt, the soft cotton pulling tight across his broad shoulders. His brown hair was a little disheveled from how much you’d run your fingers through it, and his blue eyes sparkled in the golden late afternoon light. 

“Y’know, darling, I could get used to seeing you looking so comfortable in my home,” Bucky rumbled as he prowled over to the sofa, lifting your legs and sitting down so they sprawled across his lap. Since he was closer, you could better see the way his eyes darkened as he raked them along your body. “And I could definitely get used to seeing you wear my clothes.” He fingered the bottom hem of the button-up shirt you were wearing—the one you’d stolen off his floor and put on because it smelled like him. “In fact, maybe it should be a rule that you only wear my clothes when you’re here.”

You laughed, the sound bright and airy as you tipped your head back, and you were still smiling when you looked back at Bucky. “You already made it a rule that I can’t wear panties while I’m here,” you pointed out, kicking him lightly with your bare foot. “At this rate, I’ll have to walk around naked, and I love your terrace too much for that—your neighbors are going to see me and we’re actually going to get that public indecency charge.”

Bucky’s hands had begun to massage your calves, slowly working their way up your legs but he paused in thought, his gaze going distant as he stared out over the city. “Y’know, I don’t think you can get charged for public indecency if you’re naked on a private terrace,” he said, then turned mischievous eyes on you. “Why don’t we test it out,” he teased in a deliciously warm tone, his hands slipping up your thighs to push the hem of your shirt up, revealing your bare pussy to his gaze.

“Jamie—someone could see!” you cried, laughing and pushing him away half-heartedly with one hand while you tried to hold your ice cream cone stable in the other. But Bucky turned and wedged his body between your legs so you couldn’t close them, his gaze heating as he stared down at the apex of your thighs.

“Christ, your pussy looks pretty with my come spilling out of it,” Bucky muttered, almost to himself, his fingers trailing through your still sticky folds. Your hips stuttered up against his fingertips and you sucked in a gasp as he brushed gently against your sensitive clit. “So fucking pretty, darling.” 

“Jamie.” That time, when you said his name, it was more of a whimper, the sound so desperate it made heat flood your cheeks. You and Bucky had already fucked three times since you’d arrived at his penthouse, it was amazing that your body was still hungry for more. It felt like you’d be hungry for Bucky for the rest of your life.

Bucky looked up at you, grinning when he saw the needy look on your face. “You might want to finish your ice cream, darling, because I’m fucking another load into your pretty cunt the second you’re done,” he said, his voice low and gravelly and making you shiver as warmth pooled between your thighs. 

Grabbing the collar of Bucky’s shirt, you pulled yourself up to sit, your legs wrapped around his waist from the side and held your treat out to him. “Help me finish, Jamie,” you begged in a playful tone, giving him a sweet smile as if you didn’t hear the double entendre of your words. 

Bucky held your gaze as he leaned forward and took a big bite of your ice cream, chomping on some of the cone and making you laugh. But the warm spring sunshine was hot enough that the ice cream was soon dripping down your fingers and you quickly licked it up. Bucky watched you for a moment before he wrapped a hand around your throat and dragged you in for a messy kiss, the sweet taste of ice cream filling your senses just as much as the rich taste that was all Bucky.

Together, the two of you finished off your ice cream, laughing and kissing and tasting each other. When the cone was gone, you licked the sticky sweetness from Bucky’s fingers, your tongue teasing over his skin while you watched his blue eyes darken with desire. Once you were done, he tortured you in much the same way, his tongue sliding between your fingers in such an obscene way, you let out a soft moan as you imagined his warm mouth pressed between your thighs instead.

By the time every trace of ice cream had been licked from your skin, you were soaking wet and desperate for Bucky; you pulled him in for a kiss. He made quick work of unbuttoning the shirt you wore and pushing it down over your shoulders while your fingers dove beneath his t-shirt. You raked your nails lightly through the dark hair that decorated his chest, delighting in the softness of it against your fingertips. He groaned into your mouth, breaking away only to pull his shirt off. 

Then he was laying you down on the sofa and pushing his lounge pants off to pool at his feet before he climbed over you, covering your body with his broader form. His hips settled between your thighs, his hard length nestling perfectly between your slick lower lips. 

“Fuck, you feel good, darling,” Bucky rumbled on a moan, moving his hips back and forth, just enough to slide the hard ridge of his cock against your puffy clit. “Wanna be buried in this cunt every fucking moment of the day—you’re tuning me into some pussy-drunk idiot,” he growled, kissing and nipping at your jaw while his hand circled your throat, his fingers digging lightly into the sides.

You huffed a sound that was half laugh, half shuddering moan, your legs hooking around the backs of Bucky’s thighs and using the leverage to grind against his bare cock. “If it makes you feel any better, all I can think about is how badly I want to be your cockdrunk little slut,” you murmured in his ear, nuzzling your cheek against the scruff on his jaw and delighting in the delicious rasp against your skin. “I think about sitting under your desk in your office, your cock in my throat, keeping you warm while you work.”

“Oh fuck—fuck, darling,” Bucky groaned, rocking against you harder, his cock growing wet and slick with your juices the more he slid through your pussy lips. “When you’re not here and I’m stroking my cock, I think about fucking you at one of your father’s boring galas,” he rumbled, his words coming faster to match the speed of his hips. “I think about sinking my cock into you and pumping you full of come and making you go back out to the party with my load dripping down your thighs beneath your gown.”

You raked your fingers through Bucky’s soft hair, clinging to him while your hips kept rocking together. His hard cock was rubbing your clit and his words were spinning delicious fantasies and it was too much. You felt your release swelling within you, threatening to overwhelm you, but you didn’t want to come against his cock, you wanted to come on his cock.

“Jamie,” you cried on a gasp, babbling words that you hoped made sense so he’d know what you wanted, “I can’t—I’m gonna—please, inside me—come, please!” 

Thankfully, Bucky understood your nonsense and he chuckled against your cheek. “Remember to be quiet, darling,” he rumbled, the warmth in his tone telling you he was grinning. “Don’t want the neighbors to hear you and risk finding out about whether we can get a public indecency charge on my private terrace.”

Before you could even think to respond to his teasing, Bucky pulled back, the tip of his cock needing no guidance to find your dripping hole. He slid inside easily, stretching you out around his cock. Your cunt was so wet, and you were so close to coming, it felt like your body was sucking him in deeper, your inner walls clinging to him as he split you open with his cock.

Despite Bucky’s warning, you groaned loudly—not because you wanted to find out about the indecency charge, but because you simply couldn’t control yourself. No matter how many times Bucky fucked you, every time he pushed deep into your cunt, it felt so good your mind went fuzzy with pleasure. You never wanted it to end, you wanted him inside you all the time, always and forever.

When the head of his cock pushed against your cervix, he grunted in pleasure while you moaned your own delight. Bucky dug his fingers deeper into the sides of your throat, cutting off your sound of ecstasy while he lifted himself up enough to see you. His eyes roved hungrily over your face, eagerly drinking in the way your expression twisted in pleasure as he pulled back and thrust inside you again, his hips clapping against your thighs. 

“Dirty, filthy girl,” Bucky grunted, thrusting into you to punctuate each word. “Can never be quiet when I tell you.”

You tried to smirk up at him, but another hard driving thrust had your eyes rolling back and your mouth falling open on a silent moan. With what you thought was a valiant effort, you mannaged to huff, “That’s because I like it when you make me be quiet, Mr. Barnes.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed on you and his mouth twisted into a determined snarl. “You know I prefer when you call me Jamie,” he growled, fucking you harder and faster, pressing his face close to yours so you could feel his warm breath ghost over your cheek. “You call me Jamie when my cock is deep in your cunt and I’m about to pump you full of my fourth load today—d’you hear me, darling?”

It was so much fun riling Bucky up, and you were enjoying the result of your efforts, your body lighting up from within as he pounded into you. But you knew he wanted an answer to his question, so you parted your lips and babbled, “Yes, sir, you feel so good, Jamie—love it when you fuck me hard, Jamie, please!”

“There’s my good girl,” Bucky rumbled, his tone as warm as the sunshine falling across your bare skin. He brushed a kiss to your cheek and pushed your thighs wider, fucking you in deep, grinding thrusts that had his pelvis rubbing perfectly against your clit. “Now come on my cock, darling, wanna feel your cunt choking my dick like I’m choking your pretty throat.”

As if you could resist an order like that. 

At Bucky’s filthy words, you came undone. The swelling pleasure in your core burst, and your body went taut as wave after wave of overwhelming sensation washed over you. Your lips parted in a scream that Bucky made sure stayed silent, his big hand gripping your throat so tightly, it made your entire being focus in on everything your body was feeling, every little spark and fizzle of pleasure that came from his cock, his hand—him.

“Good girl, so good, feel so fucking good, darling, fuck—fuck,” Bucky groaned, his hips thrusting wildly between your thighs until he pressed deep and let out a low grunt. His cock twitched and throbbed inside you and you knew he was coming, your clenching pussy milking every drop of his load from his balls. 

“Jamie,” you murmured when he loosened his grip on your throat. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.” Your chanting words were a plea and a prayer, which Bucky seemed to understand because his arms dug beneath your body so he could cradle you tight to his chest until there wasn’t a breath of air between you. You rode out your releases like that, your bodies writhing together, clinging to one another, unwilling to let the other move even a millimeter away. 

Slowly, eventually, the two of you settled, your body melting beneath Bucky’s while his cock softened inside you. His come spilled from your slit, sliding down between your ass cheeks. But you couldn’t be bothered by the mess the two of you had made, not when it felt too good to simply lay with Bucky, both of you naked and basking in the golden spring sunshine.

“Sooo,” you began, drawing out the word as you trailed your fingers through Bucky’s soft hair. He rumbled a short hum of acknowledgement. “D’you think any of your neighbors heard us?”

That had Bucky chuckling. He pressed a kiss to your neck, his lips finding the same spot where his fingers had dug in, making you shiver. “What’re they gonna do, tell me I can’t fuck my girlfriend on my own private terrace?” he grumbled. 

You went still beneath him and Bucky could feel the change in you, immediately lifting himself up so he could see your face. At his questioning look, you whispered, “That’s the first time you’ve called me your girlfriend.” You hated how small your voice sounded, but you were suddenly very afraid it was a slip of the tongue that Bucky would take back the second you pointed it out.

But he didn’t. Instead, his eyes went soft and he ducked down to press a sweet and firm kiss to your lips. “You’re my girlfriend,” he said resolutely, but then paused and gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. “Unless you don’t want to be.”

Your eyes widened and your fingers dug possessively into the back of his neck. “No, no, I want to be, I want to be,” you assured him quickly, smiling when he looked relieved. You pulled him down for another kiss, though it was difficult because you were grinning so hard. “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend, Jamie?”

“Of course I am,” he growled, nipping playfully at your lip and making you giggle.

“OK good,” you said with a happy sigh, going back to raking your fingers through his hair. “Then as your girlfriend,” you began, a teasing lightheartedness in your tone. “I demand my boyfriend get me another ice cream cone—since he ate half of mine.” When Bucky cut his eyes to yours, you gave him your best innocent pout, even though you knew he saw right through you. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he rumbled, dropping a kiss to your lips before he extricated himself from your body and sat up. He pulled his lounge pants back on and then tugged his t-shirt on over your head, a pleased smile curving his lips at the sight of you wearing his clothes. 

When Bucky dragged you up from the sofa, you tugged the hem of his shirt down over your ass, not wanting to flash any neighbors who might be looking, even though the greenery around the edge of the terrace would likely block you from view. Still, if you ever happened to move into Bucky’s penthouse, you didn’t want to have a reputation for walking around naked.

Not that you could see yourself giving up your beloved Brooklyn brownstone. 

Probably.

Unless Bucky asked you to move into his penthouse…

Thankfully, you were distracted from what a future with Bucky would mean for your housing situation by the man himself pulling your favorite flavor of ice cream from his freezer. He turned to you with a happy grin, looking devastatingly handsome and at home in his penthouse kitchen.

Right then, you decided you weren’t going to be tempting fate on the terrace again. It had been fun to fuck your boyfriend where any of his neighbors could have overheard or caught a glimpse of you, but you didn’t want to risk it again.

Just in case you did end up moving into Bucky Barnes’ penthouse.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[papercorgiworld]

Pansy’s interrogation

Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle

Weird behaviour and rumours have Pansy asking questions and figuring out who the guys are crushing on.

Warning: Mattheo says a foul thing.

I feel like I’m spamming tumblr with unasked for fic’s, like I’m anxious that I’m bothering everyone, but at the same time: here’s another unasked for fic. Also, English is not my first language and this is not proofread, so feedback is very welcome.

For more interrogations: click here

For more Theodore: click here

For more Mattheo: click here

Theodore Nott

“Rumor has it you are tutoring first years?” Pansy sits down next to Theodore with a cup of tea in her hand, carefully stirring. Theo growls, he knew this was coming, he knew Hogwarts was notoriously fast when it came down to gossip, but it hadn’t even been a day. Pansy raises her eyebrows, her way of saying ‘spill it, I want to know’.

“So?” Theo simply shrugs trying to downplay it and thereby hoping to avoid spilling his hidden agenda.

“Not really your thing, is it Notty-boy?” Pansy playfully ruffles through Theo’s hair. He immediately gets her hand out of his hair and tries to comb it back to its regular mess with his fingers. “It earns Slytherin points.” Theo finally explains when his hair is remodeled.

“Earning Slytherin points?” The girl huffed, clearly not falling for his excuse. “If you really cared about our house points you would start attending class, stop doing drugs and getting caught, and you would keep Riddle out of fights instead of getting him into more fights.”

Theodore frowned and forced his lips into a line. “Keep Riddle out of fights, who do you think I am, the pope?!” Pansy shakes her head. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

Theo looks away and feels saved when he sees Draco approaching them with his usual dramatic walk. He should be enough distraction for Pansy. “Theo, I heard you’re tutoring first years?” Right. How could I forget, he’s Hogwarts' second biggest gossip.

Enzo joins the group now that the entire common room knows Theo is a tutor thanks to Draco. “Really?” Enzo quips and Theodore simply nods. “(Y/n) must be so pleased that you’re helping out with her tutoring project. She had trouble finding capable and willing volunteers.”

Draco huffs at Enzo’s oblivious reaction. “Theo is so whipped for (y/n).” Pansy mouths an OMG at Theo who immediately realizes he will never hear the end of this.

Suddenly Blaise and Mattheo arrive. “Mate, you tutoring first years?” Mattheo asks, ignoring everyone else and with a very confused expression. Theo sighs and lets himself sink in the sofa, wishing it would swallow him. “If you’re tutoring? Why don’t you help me?” Blaise adds a little offended.

“Apparently, Theo is only doing this to earn points… with (y/n).” Pansy explains with an unmistakable grin on her face. Theodore rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling for a moment. I need a smoke. And new friends.

Mattheo Riddle

Pansy flops down next to Mattheo who up until then was enjoying his quiet time lounging on his favorite couch in the Slytherin common room. Mattheo doesn’t recognise Pansy’s presence and simply continues reading his book.

Pansy’s smirk grows wide, she’as already enjoying herself and she hasn’t even started interrogating her victim yet. She turns herself to face Mattheo’s side and dominantly places her arm on the back of the couch behind him. Now he’s closed in the game begins.

“I hear it’s been a while since you’ve had a shag?” Annoyance fills Mattheo’s eyes as he stops reading just to stare in front of him.

“I’m assuming everything *pansy gestures to everything between his legs* is still working fine. So… No luck on the market ?” Mattheo’s eyes roll to the corner of his eyes to stare at Pansy.

“Pans, don’t.” Mattheo returns his gaze back to his book.

“You must get frustrated? Getting no release.” A heavy breath leaves Mattheo’s chest. He really didn’t like it when Pansy played her games.

“Oh, but he has plenty of Willing Witches magazines. He gets by.” Blaise jumps to take a seat on the couch opposite of Mattheo and Pansy, spreading his arms to take up the whole couch. Mattheo’s jaw clenches clearly not amused by his friend's humor. When Pansy giggles, Mattheo can’t help but feel exposed and blush a little.

“Why do you care?” Mattheo finally breaks, giving Pansy his full attention.

“I want to know why you’ve been playing boring at every single party for the last few months. Girls talk, you know.” Mattheo rolls his eyes. “Girls talk? Wow, that’s news.” His sarcasm had a poisonous undertone.

“If the guy wants to be on his best behavior, let him, Pans.” Blaise cuts in, attempting to get Pansy off Mattheo’s case.

“Why? Why are you suddenly done with manwhoring about?” As every part of Mattheo’s body tensed, Pansy threw a quick glance over to Blaise to affirm her suspicion: she was onto something.

Acting quick and avoiding a witty or snappy comeback from Mattheo, Pansy moved a little closer to Mattheo. She let her head fall to the side and put up an innocent face. “Are you trying to impress someone?” Mattheo’s dark eyes shot at hers. “Ah, that also explains why you’ve been attending classes more often.” She added enjoying how the puzzle pieces were falling together. “And, it’s been a while since you’ve had detention for fighting. Oh please, don’t tell me, are you trying to convince (y/n) that you’re a good boy?!”

As soon as Mattheo heard your name his face went from cold and annoyed to shocked and horrified. It lasted only for a second, his dead eyes were even more furious than before. “Pansy. If it ain’t for sucking dick then I advise you keep your mouth shut. Now, go bother someone else.”

Pansy was used to harsh language, but Mattheo’s denigrating tone made her tense. “I wonder what (y/n) will think about your foul mouth.” Pansy got up, pleased now that she knew what made Mattheo tick. Mattheo on the hand was frustrated that he led himself get played by Pansy’s games like this.

[liz-on-leash]

A Bad Friend

[Commissioned]

NewJeans Kang Haerin × Male Reader

Noncon, Drugged, Fingering, Facefuck, Squirting, Creampie

4,850 Words

The air was buzzing with energy as you strolled around inside the college party. The music thumped through the speakers, the bass pulsing in your chest. 

The room was alive with movement - bodies swaying, drinks sloshing, laughter and chatter filling the air. The dim lighting cast a warm, hazy glow over the scene, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.

Amidst the chaos, you spot Haerin sitting alone in the lounge, her phone clutched in her hands. You can't help but notice how her pretty features are tinged with a hint of sadness. 

You know she's here because her boyfriend Jihoon invited her, but had to back out at the last minute. Poor thing, all alone at a party where everyone else seems to be having a grand time.

You make your way over to her, a friendly smile on your face. "Yah, Haerin-ah," you call out, drawing her attention. Her face lights up when she sees you, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection. After all, the two of you have been friends since high school.

Haerin's face brightens, her big eyes shining with relief. “Oh, yah…" she calls your nickname, a wide smile spreading across her pretty features. You return the smile as you plop down on the sofa next to her.

"What is a pretty princess doing all alone over here?" you ask, acting not to know the gist of the situation. "Where's your boyfriend?"

Haerin's smile falters slightly as she lets out a small pout. "Jihoon oppa had to leave for a family thing at the last minute," she explains. "Now I'm just waiting around to leave. I already told him I'd get a taxi, but he hasn't replied yet."

You nod sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "Well, you don't have to wait around here all by yourself," you offer. "I can give you a ride home if you'd like."

You notice a flash of hesitation in her eyes before she quickly shakes her head. "No, it's okay," she insists. "I will just wait a little longer to see if Jihoon oppa replies. I don't want to put you out."

You know full well that Jihoon has probably warned Haerin to stay away from you. After all, you've never exactly been the model student - you've always been a bit of a troublemaker, much to Jihoon's apparent annoyance. 

You remember the smug little smirk on his face whenever he's with Haerin as if he's silently gloating over the fact that he got to "steal" her away from you - that only he manages to get in her pants. 

The thought of it irritates you, and you find yourself growing a bit more annoyed than usual before you are pulled from your reverie by Haerin's voice.

"You don't have to worry about me," she says with a smile. "Go have fun! I'll just wait here for a bit."

But you shake your head, returning her smile. "Nonsense, Haerin-ah, I'm your friend, of course, I'm going to keep you company." You stand up, gently squeezing her shoulder. "I will grab us a couple of drinks. Nothing too strong, I know, haha.”

Before she can protest, you turn and make your way towards the drink table. But instead of heading to the main bar, you veer off towards a small, more discreet-looking setup - the "special" booth, as it's known, that provides extra ingredients.

Haerin doesn't seem to suspect a thing as you return with two expertly crafted cocktails in hand.

Haerin flashes you a grateful smile as you return with the drinks. "Thank you so much for spending time with me," she says, taking the cocktail from your hand without a second thought.

As the two of you sip your drinks, you fall into an easy conversation, chatting about classes, professors, and the general chaos of college life. Haerin's cute laugh is music to your ears, and you notice the way her skirt rides up just slightly, exposing the smooth skin of her legs. 

Your gaze drifts to the small swell of her breasts beneath her shirt, and you feel your cock start to harden in anticipation.

Before long, Haerin's words begin to slur, her eyelids growing heavy. She doesn't seem to realize her state, continuing to prattle on as you nod and smile, your mind racing with wicked thoughts. 

Finally, her voice trails off as she loses consciousness, her head lolling forward.

Right on cue, Haerin's phone on the table lights up with a message from Jihoon, saying he will be there in 30 minutes. 

You scoff, cursing that smug bastard under your breath. Haerin is yours for the taking tonight - let's see how proud Jihoon can be after this.

You push aside your anger towards Jihoon, instead focusing your attention on your unconscious friend. You adjust Haerin's posture, guiding her head to rest against the backrest of the couch. 

Your fingers caress her soft cheeks, coaxing her lips into a delicate pout. "Such a pretty girl, about to get ruined." 

If only she had chosen a better man - for example, someone who didn't constantly get under your skin like Jihoon does. "Oh well," you sigh, "Time to have a taste of Kang Haerin." 

The couch is soft beneath Haerin's limp body, her once-vibrant frame now completely pliant and under your full control. You've been planning this moment for weeks, fantasizing about having your way with your friend, and now, with a little help from a potent sedative in her drink, she's at your mercy. 

Her long, slender legs, encased in sheer black stockings, dangle over the couch, twitching slightly as if in a dream. You smirk, knowing that soon, she'll be writhing in ecstasy, or so you hope.

Leaning closer, you inhale the sweet scent of her hair, a mix of vanilla and strawberries. Her breathing is slow and steady, a soft purr in her throat indicating she's deep under. You gently brush her jet-black locks away from her flawless porcelain face, exposing her delicate features. 

Her lips, usually so quick to challenge and tease, are now slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of her pink tongue. You can't resist running your thumb across her plump lower lip, savoring her warmth. She's so fucking beautiful, and tonight, she's all yours.

Your eyes travel down her body, taking in the sight of her perky breasts rising and falling gently beneath her simple branded white shirt. The fabric is already loosened, hinting at the treasures beneath. 

But you're not in a hurry. You want to savor every moment of this violation. Your fingers trace the outline of her nipples, now hard and straining against the thin material. Haerin stirs slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips, but she remains unconscious, a willing victim to your desires.

With slow, deliberate movements, you slide your hand down her flat stomach, the muscles tensing at your touch. Her belly button, a tiny indent, quivers as your fingers poke across it. Further down, your hand reaches the hem of her short skirt. Her pussy, your ultimate destination, awaits.

You lift her hips, bunching her skirt around her waist. Her legs, those long, luscious limbs, fall open, offering you a glimpse of her panties. The fabric is sheer, leaving little to the imagination. 

You can see the outline of her bald, swollen pussy lips, already glistening. The scent of her drugged arousal hits you like a punch, a musky, feminine odor that makes your head spin in delight. 

You waste no time ripping her panties aside, the sound of tearing fabric filling the lounge. Haerin's cunt is exposed, a pink slit that's already beginning to flower under your intense gaze. 

Her clit peeks out from its hood, a tiny pearl begging for attention. You chuckle softly, reaching out to pinch it between your thumb and forefinger.

"Time to wake up, sleeping beauty," you whisper, giving her clit a sharp tug.

Haerin's body jerks, her legs squeezing together as her eyelids flutter, but remain hazy. She tries to speak, but her words are slurred and incoherent.

"Shh, it's me," you soothe, not wanting her to resist. “I'm keeping you company while your boyfriend is gone, remember? And I'm going to make you feel so good."

Your fingers dive into her slit, easily sliding through her juices, coating them in her essence. She's so wet, so ready, despite her confused state. You curl your fingers, searching for her sweet spot, and find it rather quickly. 

Haerin's body arches off the couch, her legs shaking as she tries to escape the sudden onslaught of pleasure. "No... stop..." she mumbles, but it's clear she doesn't mean it.

You don't listen anyway. Instead, you thrust two fingers into her tight cunt, pumping them in and out, violating her drugged innocence. Her pussy is hot and unbelievably wet, gripping your fingers. You add a second finger, stretching her, feeling her inner walls clench around you.

"You like that, Haerin-ah? You like being fucked by my fingers while you're out cold?" you taunt, slamming your digits into her harder.

Her eyes roll back, and she whimpers, her body betraying her. You lean down, biting her neck, marking her as you continue to finger-fuck her mercilessly. Her cunt is making lewd squelching sounds, filling the air with the scent of her sex.

Withdrawing your fingers, you admire her gaping hole, then deliver a sharp slap to her pussy lips, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin.

"You're so wet for me. I had no idea you're such a slut. Maybe Jihoon never made you cum like this," you sneer, slapping her again, enjoying her whimpers.

Haerin's eyes focus on you, a mix of confusion and lust clouding her vision. She tries to push you away, but her drugged state leaves her weak. "I'm… Hnn…" she manages, her voice hoarse.

You laugh, grabbing her thighs, and forcing her legs apart again. "You'll be begging for more soon. I'm gonna make you cum so hard you'll forget his name."

Your fingers dive back into her, curling and twisting, finding that sweet spot again. Haerin's body goes rigid, her back arching off the couch as she whines, a high-pitched sound of pure ecstasy. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers, milking them as her orgasm rips through her.

“There you go, cum for me," you encourage, pounding her cunt with your hand.

Her canal spasms uncontrollably, soaking your hand as she rides out her climax. You keep working on her, determined to make her cum again. Haerin's body trembles, her legs shaking violently as she tries to push you away, but you're relentless.

"Please... stop... can't take more..." she begs, her voice weak.

Ignoring her pleas, you show no mercy, adding a third finger, stretching her to the limit. Her pussy is a mess, juices running down her thighs, but you don't care. You want to degrade her, own her in this moment.

Withdrawing your fingers, you lift them to your mouth, sucking her essence off, savoring her taste. Then, grabbing her head, you shove your fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste herself.

"Lick them clean, you dirty girl," you command, holding her head still.

Haerin's hazy eyes are wide with shock, but she obeys, her pink tongue swirling around your fingers, cleaning them of her own juices. You grin, knowing you've marked her in more ways than one.

As you release her, Haerin collapses back onto the couch, her chest heaving, her body spent. You admire your handiwork, knowing you've given her an experience she will never forget. That is if she even remembers any of this at all.

Haerin's body lies beneath you, her awareness gradually returning to reveal the violation you've already inflicted. Her eyes, like pools of molten honey, weakly flicker open, revealing a haze of confusion and vulnerability that excites you to no end. 

With a smile, you straddle her delicate frame, positioning your throbbing erection directly in her line of sight, ensuring her quivering limbs are trapped between your powerful legs. Her chest rises and falls beneath you, the thin shirt now clinging to her sweat-soaked skin, outlining the rigid peaks of her nipples.

Haerin's breath catches, her body stiffening beneath your weight, as she becomes aware of the predator above her. You can almost taste her fear, a delicious appetizer to the main course you're about to serve. 

Her gaze locks onto your bulging crotch, her eyes widening as they take in the impressive length and girth of your cock, already straining free against the confines of your clothing.

"Open wide," you say, your voice dripping with lust as you grab a fistful of her silky hair, exposing her slender neck.

She tries to resist, a feeble attempt at rebellion, but her drugged state leaves her powerless against your strength. You yank her head towards your aching cock, making her whimper as her soft, pink lips part in anticipation. 

Her breath, hot and moist, washes over the sensitive head, causing it to throb and leak a thick bead of pre-cum.

"Come on, take it in," you coax, using her hair to guide her mouth onto your shaft.

Her lips touch the tip, hesitantly at first, then with more urgency as the taste of you excites her senses. Her mouth feels like a warm, wet glove as you push forward, inch by inch, stretching her lips around your thickness. 

A strangled moan escapes her, accompanied by a flood of drool that coats your shaft, making it glisten in the dim light. "Suck it, Haerin-ah," you command, your voice hoarse. "Show me how much you love my cock."

Her eyes, glazed with lust and confusion, meet yours as she reluctantly begins to move her head, taking you deeper into her mouth. The sensation is exquisite—her tongue, still groggy from the drug, clumsily caresses the underside of your cock, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

You hold her head in a firm grip, controlling the pace as you start to face-fuck her with deliberate thrusts. Her eyes water, tears mixing with the drool that freely flows from her mouth, creating a wet, sloppy symphony as you plunge her mouth. The sound of her gagging and the sight of her struggling only serve to heighten your arousal.

"Look at me. Are you secretly a cock-craving whore, Kang Haerin?" you sneer, forcing her to maintain eye contact as you fuck her mouth with increasing ferocity.

Haerin's throat contracts around your shaft, her body's natural response to the invasion, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through your nerves. You thrust harder, her nose buried in your pubic bone, her breath hot and desperate against your balls.

With each thrust, you feel her resistance melting away, her mouth becoming a willing participant in this depraved act. Her tongue, now more alert, swirls and flicks, learning the contours of your cock, making you grit your teeth to hold back your release.

“Ohh, fuck… I'm going to feed you so much of my cum,” you groan, slamming into her mouth with abandon.

Her eyes roll back, her body trembling beneath you as she tries to process the overwhelming sensations. Her hands weakly push against your thighs, a futile attempt to create some distance, but you easily swat them away, holding her in place.

As you pound her mouth, her lips and throat provide a tight, wet sheath for your cock, massaging and sucking you with each withdrawal and penetration. The slurping, gagging sounds fill the room.

"Swallow it all, or I can make you wear it and parade you all around the venue," you threaten, your voice desperate with impending release.

With a final surge, you unleash a torrent of hot cum down her throat, holding her head in an iron grip as you empty your balls. Haerin chokes and sputters, her eyes bulging as she tries to swallow, but you keep her impaled, forcing her to take every thick rope of your seed down her stomach.

You feel her throat muscles working, massaging your sensitive cock as she struggles to accommodate your load. Finally, you release her, allowing her head to fall back, her mouth hanging open, glistening with the evidence of your pleasure.

Gasping for air, she stares up at you, her expression a mix of shame, pleasure, and disbelief. You admire the sight of her, knowing you've pushed her boundaries, marked her as your own. 

Adjusting your clothing, you shoot a final, possessive remark. “Remember this moment, Haerin-ah. Tonight, You're mine to fuck however I please."

Just as you're about to tuck yourself away, the sound of giggling and high-heeled footsteps approaches. Two women, clearly inebriated, stumble into the lounge, their eyes widening at the sight before them.

"Oh, shit! Are we interrupting something?" one of them slurs, her eyes flicking between Haerin's disheveled form and your half-exposed crotch.

You let out a bark of laughter, relishing the momentary confusion on their faces. "Not at all, ladies. Just having a bit of fun. Come on in, I was just finishing up anyway."

The taller of the two, a blonde with smudged makeup, raises an eyebrow. "Finishing up? Looks like the party's just getting started." She winks, taking a step closer, her gaze lingering on your brunette friend.

You'd love to stay and play, especially with Haerin's warm, cum-soaked body still waiting for  you, but you're aware of the ticking clock. Her boyfriend is on his way, and you have no intention of ruining your plan.

"Tempting as it is, I've got other plans for this one," you say, nodding towards Haerin. "But feel free to help yourselves to a drink."

With that, you scoop Haerin into your arms, her body limp and pliant, and gather her belongings. She mumbles incoherently, her eyes blinking as she tries to focus on your face.

"Where... what...?" she slurs, her voice hoarse from the rough face-fucking.

"We're going for a short ride, baby," you whisper, nuzzling her neck. "And then I'm gonna finish what I started."

You stride towards the door, Haerin's body cradled against your chest, her legs sagging, still bearing the marks of your fingers. The two women watch, mouths agape in a chuckle as you exit.

Outside, you gently deposit Haerin into the backseat of your car, arranging her skirt to provide a modicum of modesty. Her eyes drift shut again, her body surrendering to the drug's pull. You start the engine, a devious plan forming in your mind.

"Time to take this party somewhere more private, Haerin-ah," you mutter, pulling away from the curb.

The drive to your apartment is a blur of streetlights and growing lust. Haerin remains unconscious, her body swaying with the motion of the car. You can't wait to have her again, to mark every inch of her without the fear of interruption.

As you pull into the empty parking lot of your building, the excitement builds. You carry her up the stairs, relishing the weight of her in your arms, and unlock your door, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of your home.

Haerin's eyes flutter open momentarily as you lay her on your bed, the soft sheets welcoming her small body. She blinks, trying to focus, her lips forming a question.

Your gaze remains fixed on Haerin's body as you begin to undress, your cock already stirring back to life, eager for another round. You peel off your clothes, revealing your muscular frame, every inch of you focused on the beauty lying on your bed. 

Her eyes, slightly clearer, watch you with fear as she processes her surroundings. In one motion, you yank her skirt up, exposing her stocking-clad legs. 

The delicate fabric clings to her thighs, accentuating her slender limbs. You then tear the material away, leaving her stockings intact as a sexy contrast to her pale skin.

Haerin's breath quickens as you pull her body up to remove her shirt, her movements weak and uncoordinated. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the haze from her mind. "No... please..." she whimpers, a feeble attempt at resistance.

You snatch her shirt and bra from her body in one swift motion, baring her perky breasts. Her nipples, already hard and erect, stand at attention, begging for attention.

"Relax, Haerin-ah," you whisper, your voice a low, menacing purr. "You're gonna beg for more after I'm done. Trust me."

She tries to push against your chest, but you easily overpower her, pinning her hands above her head, holding her in place. "Why are you doing this? We're friends..." she pleads, her voice cracking.

You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear. "Friends fuck, Haerin. And I've been wanting to fuck you for a long time. Especially now, to teach that asshole boyfriend of yours a lesson."

Her eyes widen at your words, a mix of anger and unwanted arousal flashing across her face. Before she can respond, you align your throbbing cock with her sticky slit, the tip already slick with her juices.

"No... please, not like this..." she begs, her voice breaking as you tease her entrance, not yet granting her the penetration her drunk body craves.

With one thrust, you bury yourself deep inside her, claiming her pussy in one stroke. Her eyes roll back, and she screams, the sound raw and primal. “Ohh God—!"

Her body trembles beneath you, her pussy gripping your shaft like a vice, milking you as her internal muscles spasm. You feel her heat, her wetness, enveloping you, welcoming you home.

"Scream harder for me," you grunt, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into her, over and over, setting a brutal pace.

Haerin's cries fill the room, a mixture of pleasure and pain. "Oh God, oh God, please... it's too much..." she sobs, her body shaking with each violent thrust.

You show no mercy, pounding into her, your balls slapping against her ass with each retreat and advance. Her pussy is so tight, her walls massaging your cock, threatening to milk your load prematurely.

"You feel that, Haerin? My cock owning your pussy?" you grunt, reaching down to pinch her hard nipples, making her arch her back.

"Yes... oh yes... I feel it..." she cries, her voice hoarse. "It's... too much..."

You lean down, biting her neck, marking her as yours. "You're gonna take it all, every inch, and you're gonna beg for more," you promise, your voice a gravelly growl.

With each thrust, you go deeper, harder, your cock hitting her cervix, making her see stars. Her body is a mess of sensations, the drug intensifying every touch, every penetration.

"Please... I can't... I'm gonna..." Haerin's words trail off as her body tenses, her pussy clamping down on your cock as she's hit with a powerful orgasm.

You don't let up, continuing to pound her through her climax, determined to make her see stars again. Her screams echo in the room, a testament to the raw, animalistic sex unfolding on your bed.

As Haerin's resistance crumbles, you release her wrists, knowing she's now completely at your mercy. Instead, you grasp her hips, your fingers digging into her flesh, and lift her, angling her body to meet your relentless assault. She clutches the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white, as she screams, her voice raw and hoarse.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she cries, her words becoming indistinguishable from the guttural sounds of pleasure and pain.

You watch her face, contorted in ecstasy, as you thrust into her roughly. Her eyes, wild and unfocused, stare up at you, pleading and inviting at the same time. Your cock, a rigid piston, disappears into her wet heat with each forward lunge, only to emerge slick and glistening before slamming back home.

The force of your thrusts lifts her body off the bed, her ass meeting your groin with a satisfying smack on each downstroke. You feel her inner walls, hot and slick, gripping and massaging your shaft, threatening to milk your cum prematurely. But you hold back, wanting to drive her to the brink of insanity.

Her pussy, now raw and swollen, stretches to accommodate your thickness, the lips molding around your girth, leaving a red, puffy outline as you withdraw. Her juices flow freely, coating your cock and balls, creating a lewd, glistening display.

"Please, stop, it hurts!" Haerin begs, her voice cracking. "Your cock... it's in my stomach... it hurts so much!"

You chuckle, withdrawing almost entirely before slamming back into her, making her body jerk. "Liar. You love it. You're just a dirty cum slut who can't get enough."

Her cries turn to incoherent moans as you lean down, your free hand pressing against her distended belly, adding a new layer of sensation to her already overstimulated body. Her orgasm, which had momentarily subsided, reignites with a vengeance.

"No... again... can't..." she whimpers, her legs stiffening, her body shaking as she's hit with another powerful climax.

You feel her pussy convulsing around your cock, trying to pull your seed from your balls. With each spasm, you thrust harder, driving her over the edge again and again.

Haerin's body goes rigid, her back arching off the bed, as she screams, her throat raw from her incessant cries. Her pussy clamps down on you, a grip that threatens to send you over the edge.

You violate her deeper, harder, your balls slapping against her swollen, sensitive lips, driving her to the brink of consciousness. Her tits, bouncing wildly with each impact, leave a trail of saliva and sweat as they sway with the rhythm of your pounding.

"Cum for me again, Haerin-ah," you demand, your voice a raspy command. "Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Haerin's body convulses, her orgasm ripping through her like an electric current, causing her to see stars. Her juices flow, adding to the wet, sloppy sounds of your fucking, as she surrenders to the pleasure you're inflicting upon her.

As your climax approaches, you feel the familiar tightening in your balls, the knot forming, signaling your impending release. Your thrusts become more deliberate, slower, as you savor the moment. 

Coincidentally, Haerin's phone starts ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the room. You see the caller—her boyfriend. An evil grin spreads across your face as you withdraw from her, leaving her pussy gaping, glistening with her juices.

Haerin, sensing a momentary respite, flips onto her stomach, her body trembling, as she tries to crawl away, her movements uncoordinated and weak. You chuckle, striding across the room to answer the phone.

"Jihoon sunbaenim? How's it going?" you answer, your voice laced with false formality.

Haerin, hearing her boyfriend's voice, freezes, her eyes wide with panic. You toss the phone onto the bed beside her, the screen lighting up her tear-streaked face. 

"He wants to talk, Haerin-ah. Go ahead, explain what you've been up to."

She shakes her head, her body trembling, as she tries to cover herself with the sheets. "Please... don't..." she begs, her voice vibrating.

Ignoring her pleas, you grab her by the waist, pulling her up onto all fours, her ass high in the air, presenting herself to you. She knows what's coming, her body betraying her as she begins to leak fresh juices, her pussy still swollen from your rough treatment.

"Looks like she's too busy to talk right now," you say into the phone, positioning yourself behind her. "But I'll be sure to pass on your regards."

With that, you plunge back into her, your thick cock stretching her well-used hole. Haerin screams, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound, but it's no use. Jihoon's voice, now frantic, fills the room as he hears her cries.

You grip her hips, holding her in place, as you begin to pound into her from behind, your balls slapping against her clit. Her body is a canvas of pleasure and pain, her ass cheeks quivering with each impact.

"Fuck! Fuck! Oh God— No!" Haerin screams, her voice muffled by her hand, her body betraying her as she pushes back against your thrusts, meeting your rhythm.

You reach around, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and yank her head back, arching her body, exposing her neck. 

Her response is a guttural moan, her body going limp as she resigns to the sensations coursing through her veins. You feel her pussy clench around your cock, milking you as she's hit with another powerful orgasm.

With a throaty grunt, you unleash your load deep inside her, your cock pulsing as you fill her womb with your seed. Haerin screams, her body shaking, as she's forced over the edge once more, her juices flowing to mix with your cum.

You hold her in place, your cock twitching as you empty yourself into her, before pulling out with a loud, wet squelch. Haerin collapses, unconscious, her body spent and satisfied. 

You laugh, ending the call, and head to the kitchen, leaving her lying there, sated and vulnerable. As you pour yourself a drink, you can't help but chuckle, anticipating her reaction when she wakes up, the realization of what her trusted friend has done.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Monsoon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

10.1k wc

Synopsis: Four years after Toji Fushiguro died, Satoru decided to give his widow a visit

(Warnings: age difference (nothing underaged), dark content, AFAB reader, pregnancy kink, non con, overstimulation, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough sex)

It was raining when Gojo Satoru entered your flat. 

Not particularly harshly, but more than enough for a scare. You weren't in the mood for visitors; the rain made you drowsy, and it was coincidentally your one day off. You wanted to lean against the window and watch the droplets fall against the pavement with a warm blanket. You did not want to exchange pleasantries with some kid. 

The only reason you didn't slam the door in his face was because he said your husband's name. 

It was why you were bringing tea to someone who clearly couldn't care less about it as he lounged on the sofa. You sat on the other end, staring at the scuffed coffee table. Out of anxiety, you play with the ring wrapped around your finger. 

"...He's dead?" 

It's a question, but you already know the answer. Gojo doesn't even bother to reply, humming, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid. You still stare at the coffee table. It's slightly crooked. One of the legs was broken. Toji promised he'd fix it. 

That was four years ago. You hadn't seen him since. 

You should have expected this. You knew the kind of man Toji was even before he stuck that flimsy ring on your finger. The kinds of people he hung out with. The suspicious amounts of money he would shower you with. There would have never been a happy end for the two of you. 

You can still feel your throat close up, bile rise from your belly. You can't do anything but watch the old table you never threw out because he promised he'd come back and fix it. 

The only reason you close your eyes, sucked in a tight breath, was because you still had a guest over. One that clearly wouldn't care about your crocodile tears. 

You've never seen someone his age so apathetic before. That temperament was associated with the people of your generation. The people who've already been in the workforce, who carried stress on their backs and hips. You can't see his eyes, but the slouch in his posture is indicative enough. Maybe all kids his age were like this. Uncaring, indifferent, subtly disrespectful. 

Because he was a kid. It didn't matter how tall he was, how much bigger than you he was. A single look was all you needed to know that this boy was at least a decade younger than you. Unkept white hair, sunglasses despite the weather, a cocky smile, a voice oozing with misplaced confidence.

You don't acknowledge it; it's clear he didn't come here just to tell you your husband is dead. 

"How old's your kid? Eight?" Gojo tilts his head. "You gotta' know what that means, right?" 

You do. Even if you weren't steeped into the world your husband willfully left, you know enough. You know how important your son is. 

It's why you stop Gojo before he can make his offer. You've already heard this before, a week ago when men with Zenin as their last names knocked on your door. 

"Thank you for your concern," you tell him as calmly and respectfully as you can. For the first time, the man straightens up, as if your answer wasn't what he expected. You can sense he isn't used to being told no. 

 You keep your smile neutral, pleasant, final. 

"But we're fine as we are."

Moments later, when he's about to leave, you offer an umbrella, insistent on him taking it. It was raining after all. He takes it with him without any protest. 

You don't notice that, despite the downpour, he was perfectly dry when he stepped into your home.

☔︎︎

Megumi was always special. 

Every mother thinks that for their child. You're no exception. As soon as he was born, tiny in your arms, swaddled in blankets, something shifted within you. You'd always wanted children, but the concrete feeling of your child in your arms when he's so vulnerable. You'd never felt anything more right. 

To you, Megumi was always special. But when Megumi turned 5, he became special to the entire world. 

Toji was never tight-lipped about the world he came from. Shamans, sorcerers, shikigami, curses. You weren't an expert, but you certainly knew more than the average person. He'd often tell you things, when he was drunk, pulling you against his bare chest, underneath cheap blankets. You always heard the bitterness in his voice. That world had rejected him. It would reject anyone who wasn't special enough. Special people were rare. 

It's why you were convinced Megumi would never have to deal with any of that. His father wasn't a sorcerer, neither were you. He'd live a normal life and would only be special to you. 

"It's on your other shoulder." 

You switched hands, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. Like always, you couldn't feel anything. There was no weight on your skin, nothing tangible that you could grab and toss. There was just this small feeling of dread. A small ache in your bones. 

He waves a tiny hand. Instantly, the feeling of dread is gone. The ache lifts and you roll your shoulders. 

"Thank you," you tell him with a strained, but grateful smile. He nods, turning back to his food. 

"You're getting more, now," he simply says. 

"Haha, sorry," you reply instinctively because even though he's eight, you feel like you've burdened him. 

"It's okay," he mutters, quiet as always. His gaze flicks back up at you, before glancing back down. He takes a second to gnaw on his lip. 

"Are...are you okay?" 

You're being so obvious even your own son could see it. 

Your smile feels more forced as you placate him with the usual lie of 'Mommy's just tired, long day at work'. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't say anything back. He's so much like his father in these moments. Truthfully, you didn't think Megumi got a single thing from you. His black hair is Toji's, his blue eyes are Toji's, his pale skin is Toji's, and even his forever-present scowl is your late husband's. You supposed that should have been the first sign: Megumi would be anything but normal. 

You hadn't told him about the visits. You're his parent, you had justified to yourself. He's a child. He doesn't need to know about the visits. Especially, considering you decided for him. Megumi would be raised out of the jujutsu world, away from curses, and sorcerers. 

You can't have your son taken away from you like his father was.

('Special Grade', Gojo had told you. A powerful cursed spirit. You hadn't gotten closure until you let him in. No body was ever recovered.)

You can't let your son end up like that. 

But was this the right life for him? You watch as Megumi's gaze trails up, like he's tracing the movement of a fly or something bigger that you would never see. 

You can't relate to Megumi. You don't have cursed energy. You can't see the things he can. As much as you loved him, you'd never be able to understand what he is. None of his classmates can. None of his teachers. It sounds lonely. Isolating. 

Only a handful of people that could ever give Megumi that connection exist. And they're willing to accept him with open arms. 

He had been an older man, flanked by another. They eyed your home with relative disgust; you, with mild derision. It'd been their words that echo in your head today. How much happier Megumi would be surrounded by his own kind. How the clan would welcome him and teach him to hone his technique. 

They were words that would sate the parent of a lonely boy, but you couldn't help but remember the disregard in his voice. Their words made Megumi sound like a tool, instead of a child. 

The offer of payment for your son was enough to turn them away. 

Was Gojo Satoru any better? From your brief encounter, you couldn't tell. There was always a smile on his lips whenever he talked about Megumi's future and Jujutsu Tech. The lilt of his voice felt fake, artificial. But at least he didn't ask to outright buy your son. 

When Megumi's tucked into bed, you pace around the living room. You glance at the slip of paper he'd left behind. The scrawl of numbers in neat handwriting. The thing he slipped into your unsuspecting hand. You've had a glass of wine before, maybe that's why your hands are a little more steady when you punch in the numbers. 

He picks up after the second ring. It oddly feels like he was waiting for your call. 

"Can jujutsu sorcerers live normal lives?"

There's a laugh on the other end. Light. Amused. 

"No," his response is cold, even when his tone isn't, "Even if they leave the jujutsu world, they will never have normal lives." 

The answer you were afraid of, but you weren't surprised. Special people rarely live normal lives. You knew what this meant: trying to protect Megumi from his father's fate would be pointless. No matter how far you run, no matter how far you take him, it will never be enough. 

"Does it really matter, then?" you ask, "who Megumi goes with." 

"In that sense, no, not really," his voice crackles back, "But I think you've already made your decision." 

You had days ago. You were just wasting time, picking up the phone only to drop it just as quickly. As much as you'd wanted to keep your son away from the jujutsu world, you knew, even before they knocked on your door, it was a failed endeavor. Megumi was special. Megumi was too special for you to hide. He shone too brightly. 

The Zenin clan would extinguish that. You knew it. Toji knew it too. It's why he took on your name. 

It's silent again. You bite your lip. You've been doing that a lot lately. 

"Gojo, may I ask a favor?" He gives a hum. 

"Please, don't tell him about Toji." 

There's a beat of silence. The line clicks. 

Two days later, Megumi meets the strongest sorcerer of the modern era. 

☔︎

There was always something clinical about Megumi's and Gojo's relationship. 

You wouldn't call them father-son, let alone brotherly. It was strictly student and teacher. From the start, it was clear Megumi wasn't impressed with the sorcerer. His scowl would somehow get deeper whenever the young man was around. 

Gojo didn't seem all that impressed either. He wasn't as blatant, but you could sense that it was a chore for him, rather than anything else. You don't think you can blame him. He's barely twenty. He should be doing other things. Living his youth, and continuing his education. 

Gojo grew up too fast. You can see it in his face. He's never not smiling, but it's never truly sincere. It's not clinical either. It looks exhausted. You wonder-if he wasn't wearing those glasses all the time-if you'd see dark circles. 

He's too young to be running around this much. He's too young to carry the entire world of jujutsu sorcery on his back. He's too young to be an educator. A mentor. 

Yet he is. Yet he does. All with a smile on his face. 

You're less intense nowadays to him. When Megumi comes home, clearly a bit more roughed up than when he left, you criticize Gojo less harshly. When you make lunch for Megumi, you ask if he'd like anything as well. Gojo has a bigger sweet tooth than your eight-year-old son does. You never nag him for it. 

The change doesn't fully happen until that fateful conversation. It's an offhanded remark he makes about him not being there to train Megumi for a few weeks because of a mission. 

"A curse?" you ask, as if they aren't all around you. 

Gojo grins because you've discovered he likes talking. "Reports are coming down from Sendai. The running bet currently is special grade." 

You frown. "Oh. Well, be careful." 

He freezes at that. You think he's staring at you, but you're not too sure. His glasses give away nothing. Your fingers dance with nerves. Had you said something wrong?

"What?" 

You tilt your head. "Oh! Uh, 'be careful'. Stay safe." You end your sentence awkwardly. 

Eventually, Gojo recovers. "Yeah. Well, obviously." He smiles. 

You watch him leave, keeping your eye on him until he disappears into the sleek black car. 

It doesn't occur to you until much later that Gojo probably hasn't had someone worry about him before. 

☔︎︎

Whenever Megumi's training continues much later in the evenings, you go to the Gojo estate to pick him up yourself. 

It's a grand house. Practically a mansion. You've never felt so embarrassed about your humble apartment until you saw the lavishness Satoru lived in. A part of you is now even more impressed by Megumi's stubbornness. Children are the first to fall for the affluent. 

It's big, but you've never quite gotten over how empty it looks. Every time you visit, there's always just Satoru. You haven't seen his mom, his dad, any siblings. It looks like a family home, but he's the only one who's ever there. 

He's never mentioned any family. You wonder what happened to them. Where they are now. 

Somedays, you arrive a bit earlier than needed. During that time, you tend to stroll through the gardens. They're so beautiful. Large and expansive. They're empty, however, just like that grand house. No flowers. Not even weeds. It's just a bunch of dirt and stones, plainly stacked on top of each other. It disappoints you a bit. The grounds had so much potential. 

"Whatcha' got for me this time?" You jump, whirling around. Satoru is right behind you, a teasing grin on his face. 

You give him a disapproving look, though it lacks any real heat. "I told you to stop doing that." 

"Doing what?" Though he may be twenty, he acts like he's younger than your son. Speaking of your child:

"Where's Megumi?" You prod, glancing behind Satoru, as though your grumpy child would pop up behind him. No such thing happens. Satoru's incriminating smile grows wider. 

"Homework," he cryptically replies, "also, he didn't want to disturb us adults having our grown-up conversations." 

"Of course he did," is all you say, but you acquiesce regardless, digging through your bag. 

You've always been taught to bring something when visiting another person's home. You found it rude not to, despite how casual Satoru acts around you. You discovered he liked sweets the most, so you have tried your best to satisfy his sweet tooth. He seems happy with whatever you give him. One thing you like about Satoru is how he cherishes all the gifts he's received from you without any complaint. You spotted the umbrella you'd given him all those weeks ago, sitting right by the door. He'd never given it back. You'd never asked for it. 

You try to ignore the feeling that the only reason he gets excited about your gifts is that it's rare for him to receive anything at all. Satoru doesn't need to be pitied. 

It's nothing too big, just a bag of saltwater taffy from an Americanized store. He's already ripping the package open, pulling one out of the wrapper to stick it in his mouth. 

You blink when he extends his hand, another piece of candy between his fingers. 

"Say 'ah'!" 

"Oh no, I'm fine. They're for you—" Satoru interrupts you by popping the piece right in your mouth. Your lips instinctively close. 

"Oh." You say after you taste the sweet. "Peppermint." 

He laughs, taking another one out for himself. You follow him through the abandoned gardens. 

"So, how's Megumi's-"

"Nuh-uh," Satoru immediately stops you, "enough about work. Let's talk about something else!" 

You roll your eyes, but your smile is too affectionate. You ask him about his latest trip overseas. He tells you about the country he visited, the curse he exorcised, practically giddy from excitement. Conversation starts there before moving onto other things, small talk, your job. 

"It's a shame the gardens are so empty," you say when the conversation reaches a lull. 

He stares at the bare patches of dirt with you. "When I was younger, the gardeners would take care of 'em for us. Flowers would bloom every spring." 

You feel him recoil. Satoru does that sometimes. Say something too intimate, hissing when it's too late to take them back. For his sake, you don't comment on it. 

"It must have looked beautiful." Is all you respond. Understanding, but closed enough to give him relief. 

You stand there in silence for a couple of seconds. In the dirt, you can see a tiny ant carrying a grain of sand. 

"Roleplay time!" Satoru suddenly exclaims. You whirl your head to look at him. "Imagine you become the great Gojo Satoru." You stifle a laugh at that. His grin only gets wider. "What kind of flowers would you choose?" 

Toji always thought bouquets were stupid. 'There's no point' he'd always say 'the weeds will just die anyway, why you somethin' like that?'. But sometimes, he'd bring home these tiny, golden flowers. Simple. Pretty. He'd tuck it behind your ear, grinning at his work. You'd kiss him in return. 

"Marigolds," you say at last. 

Satoru only hums in response. A few seconds later, he's leading you out of the garden, rambling about how expensive sushi was overseas. 

A few days later, you see men with barrels of soil, combing through the garden. 

A week after, tiny golden flowers start poking through the dirt. Simple. Pretty. 

☔︎︎

You had that same dream again. The day Toji left. 

It's rare to have these dreams. They wouldn't leave you alone the first year he'd disappeared. Back when you thought he'd gotten bored of you and your son, like he'd finally decided he was sick of the family life. 

They come back sporadically, nowadays. You can't sleep after you have them, so you often find yourself curled up in the living room, looking at the window. It was raining. Heavy droplets thud on the glass. The violence seems desperate somehow. Like the weather is begging to be let in, to snuggle underneath the warm blankets too. 

On nights like this, it's a habit to stare at the tiny golden band on your finger. You slip it off, holding it in your palm. It's nothing extravagant—tiny with a simple design—but it's the last thing you have of him. Toji was never that sentimental. 

It's not really a dream. Dreams are more whimsical, cloudy. You can remember everything, down to the outfit he'd been wearing, the fly that had been buzzing around your door. It was like you were there all over again, begging him not to go. 

"You promised you'd stop." 

"This is different," Toji said and you flinched when he tucks away his gun. You thought he'd gotten rid of it. 

"The money?" You're pressing, "we have enough money, you-" 

"This isn't about fuckin' cash," his voice cuts through you, sharper than any blade he carried. 

"It's somethin' else. Somethin' you wouldn't understand. It goes beyond money." 

Your gaze lowers, curling your fists on the table. You can't understand, not when he refuses to tell you. Not when he barely explains why he's going back to his old ways in the first place. 

Sensing he's upset you, Toji sighs. You can hear him place something down on the dining table, metallic and clanky. Calloused, rough fingers brush your cheek, your jaw, coaxing you to look at him. You don't, forcing him to lean forward, giving a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are rough, cracked, but overwhelmingly gentle on your skin. 

"I love you," Toji mutters into your skin. 

You don't respond. You wish you had, you wish you'd gotten over your pride and told him because maybe then he'd still be here with you. He's giving another sigh, tucking your hair into place before he's leaving. He closes the door behind him. 

That day, you told yourself you wouldn't forgive him. Whenever he came back, you'd tell him you were done. You'd take Megumi and you'd leave. 

Now, you think you would have forgiven him. Eventually. It would have taken a while, a lot more than measly flowers and apologies. But, if he had come back, you would have let him back into your heart.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask. 

Megumi blinks his eyes. It's past his bedtime, but you aren't going to nag him for it. You place the cup of steaming tea down on the coffee table, clicking your tongue when it wobbles. Right, four years later and you still hadn't fixed it,

"The rain was too loud." He gives. 

Wordlessly, you invite him into the cocoon you'd nestled yourself into. The sofa sinks under his weight as he settles next to you, leaning against your side. You tuck the warm blanket around his tiny body. He's still small enough to fully wrap your arm around him, bringing him even closer. You take advantage of it. You don't know how much time you have until he's too big to cuddle with anymore. 

His breaths are even and slow. He's a boy of few words, but even you think he's asleep until he's mumbling something into your ear. 

"I hate him." 

You give a confused hum, leaning down, resting your head on top of his. The coffee table looks even more uneven at this angle. It burns to even look at, these days.

"He makes you cry, even when he's not around anymore." 

You laugh at that. It's a quiet huff. When you glance down, you think you spot a faint smile on the boy's lips. He’s so much like his fathers, in the little things. You don’t think you will ever tell Megumi that. You don’t think he’ll take that observation well.

"I wasn't crying.” You tell him. “I was just thinking.”

He doesn't give a response after that. A few minutes later when you look down again, his eyes are closed, and he's drooling against your shoulder. You laugh again before gently gathering your son in your arms and settling him down to bed. 

The next day, you notice the monstrous amount of duct tape wrapped around the leg of the coffee table. When you ask Megumi about it, he just shrugs, his ears twinging a bright red. 

You throw the coffee table away. It's replaced by a new one the following week. 

☔︎︎

Satoru didn't like talking about Toji. 

You only tried prying once or twice. He was tight-lipped about it. Not quite cold, but he'd shut the conversation down quickly, more than eager to talk about something else. You missed it the first few times, but it became clear that Satoru disdained even the mention of your late husband. You can't tell if it's whether Satoru admired Toji enough that the mere mention of his name sends him into grief, or if it's something a lot more complicated. 

Now that you think of it, you barely even knew the relationship Gojo had with Toji. Had they been close? Was he just an acquaintance? Satoru had always been so cryptic about it. 

Toji hadn't. 

"He's called the strongest man?" you ask, amusement twinged in your voice, "I thought he was 12." 

"They don't care about age when giving titles," Toji replied.

You were leaning onto his shoulder, watching your son sleep in his crib. Only three months old and he had this permanent frown on his face, as if he was already sick of the world. 'He already acts like you' you once told your husband. He'd scoffed, but he didn't disagree. 

"That's a little funny," you find yourself saying. "What, can he lift a car? Does he benchpress 200?" 

Toji doesn't find the image of a child casually lifting 150lb weights as funny. He only grunts, drawing you closer. 

"I met him once," he says after a beat of silence, "back when he was barely older than a toddler." 

"Hm?" you prodded, still mesmerized by a sleeping Megumi, "what'd you think?" 

"Power," Toji responds, "more power than I'd ever have." 

You tear your gaze away from your son, glancing at your husband. Toji's eyes were looking somewhere, farther than you could see. It's the envy in his voice that you can't help but keep. A mere child already has everything Toji could ever want. Strength, a name, honor. 

You should have realized then that Toji would never belong to you. Not truly. His heart, whether or not he swore up and down otherwise, would always belong to the Jujujtsu world. It's a tragedy. Someplace that he always longed for acceptance, will never truly see him. Even when he died for it. 

Satoru will probably never answer your questions about Toji, but perhaps you could get close. 

"Why did you do it?" 

It was after dinner. Satoru had dropped your son off, and you had practically dragged the white-haired man inside with you, sitting him down on the dining table. He'd complained, but you know he secretly liked being coddled. He didn't deny the second helpings, nor the thirds. Sometimes you wondered if he was a man or a black hole. 

Megumi had already gone to bed, and you supposed he had enough of Satoru for one day. It left you and him in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Rather, you put away the dishes, and Satoru watched. Not that you minded. It was nice to have company. 

"Hm?" He was typing away at his phone, blearily turning back to look at you. You couldn't get why he didn't just go home if he was so uninterested. 

"Why did you interfere when the Zenin came?" You repeat your question, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher. 

Looking back, things could have gone much differently for you. For your son. You didn't realize how much power the Zenin clan had back then. Had Satoru not stepped in, had you kept rejecting them, you honestly wonder what sorts of drastic measures men like them would take for the sake of power. 

"Are you upset?" He asks, tilting his head. 

"Of course not." You smile. You were grateful for Satoru, you always have been. He's helped your family out in more ways than you could imagine. After all he's helped Megumi with, there was nothing Satoru could do to get you mad at him, hate him, not truly. 

"I was just wondering. It's not like you had an obligation to." 

You close the dishwasher with a soft click. The machine starts with a soft hum. He doesn't reply, not for a long while, when you look up, you see him staring back at you. His sunglasses were off, folded, tucked under his collar. 

"Clans are bullshit." You're surprised by the venom in his voice. There's a cinch in his jaw. You wonder how many years his hatred has been festering like this. 

"The entire Jujujstu world is, honestly. But clans are the worst of all. The hierarchy. Traditions. All dogshit. They'd gobble the kid and spit him back out. I-I didn't want him-" He stops with a hiss, like he'd said too much.

This time, you don't let him run away. 

"...you didn't want him to end up like you." You finish. 

It clicks, fits together like a jigsaw piece. The Gojo name had ruined Satoru, turned him into something he was too young to be. The name forced him to grow up faster, stronger. The name forced him to be isolated, lonely.

That conversation with Toji curls up inside of you. Back then, you'd only empathized with Toji's pain, but what about Satoru's pain? What about the amount of expectations that had been piled on top of a 12-year-old boy? What about the responsibilities he's forced to carry, each weight growing heavier and heavier but he can't break because he is Gojo? 

Satoru stands before you, but you can easily picture him as Megumi. Tiny, small Megumi who didn't speak much but whose heart was bigger than anyone you knew. He could end up like Satoru. Standing at the top of the mountain. All powerful. All alone. 

You don't want Megumi to be alone. 

You don't want Satoru to be alone. 

"Satoru." You step forward. "Could...could I give you a hug?" 

He doesn't respond. You step closer. No barrier. 

When you wrap your arms around him, you think you can feel him tremble. It takes a moment for him to catch up, for his arms to drape across your back. You clutch onto him tighter, silently promising not to let go until he does. 

He doesn't, not for a long while. 

☔︎︎

Satoru had a mission on his twenty-second birthday. So, you celebrate five days after he turns twenty-two. 

"Again," you say for the nth time, "If-if you have other plans, or anything else, I don't have to stay-" 

"Will you stop it, already," Satoru interrupts, "You're gonna make me depressed. I already told you, I got no other plans." 

 "Well," you frown, "if you change your mind, and you'd rather spend time with your friends..." 

"What other friends? You're the only one I got." 

You frown at that. He smiles, barely lingering on his loneliness. He does that a lot lately, brush it off. Perhaps it's become easier to. Perhaps it's because you're here now. 

The sun had already set on the Gojo estate. The stars were already out. Typically, you would have been antsy staying too late over, especially when Megumi was still home, but your son was a few cities over. He was training with another sorcerer, his new mentor stating that your son wouldn't be back for a couple more days. 

Wait, now that you think of it. 

"Satoru," you say, your voice heavy with disapproval, "Did you send Megumi off purely because it was your birthday?”

He grins wider, showing off his pearly whites. "No idea what you’re talking about." 

You frown harder. He clicks his tongue in distaste.

"It's not like the kid would wanna come celebrate anyway, and now you can focus on me! Two birds one stone." He flops on the couch.

"Satoru." 

"Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!" Satoru chants, as if that'll distract you. 

Unfortunately, it does. You roll your eyes, but you lean down, pulling out the pastry out of the bag. It's nothing special, and you do not consider yourself an expert in baking. It certainly isn't fancy, but you were still a little proud. Simple, a small chocolate cake, perfect for two.

Satoru stares. 

"I know it isn't much-" 

"I love it," he says and you can't tell if he's joking or not, "I'm gonna make it a family heirloom." 

You laugh at that. It shakes your shoulders. 

"I don't think cakes are built to last that long. How about you just eat it, instead." 

"Much better plan," Satoru responds, grabbing a fork, eager to dig in. 

He yelps when you slap his hand away as you give him a stern look. You touched his skin. You try not to linger at that, at the fact that he let you touch him. 

"Not now," you say, but you still smile, "you need to blow out the candles first." 

He huffs but doesn't protest when you stick two candles into the soft frosting. It takes a while to work the old lighter; you have to shoo him away when he tries to snatch it from you. You force Satoru to sit there for at least a minute as you sing the dreadful happy birthday song. He doesn't seem to mind, a mean grin growing on his face, letting you finish up the lyrics. 

Toji was mortified every time you managed to stick a birthday hat onto him, dragging him to the living room for his cake. He'd hold his infant son in his arms, his frown even less amused. Even then, he never interrupted the stupid tradition you put him through. He'd sit through the entire ceremony, Megumi asleep on his chest. A scowl would twitch on his lips whenever you managed to smear a dab of frosting on his nose.

You clap when Satoru blows out the candles. 

"What did you wish for?" You ask minutes later, swallowing down a bite of frosting. He was already on his third piece. You know you should tell him to slow down but you don't think it will do much. 

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Satoru responds, his tone light.

"That's a myth," you point out, "but keep your secrets if you must." 

You set your plate down when Satoru speaks the next time. 

"I wished for us to do this again." 

His voice is shallow, echoing throughout the empty house. You look at him, his white hair, his pink lips, his blue eyes. Everything that encompasses Gojo Satoru is focused entirely on you.

"That next year, we'll celebrate the exact same way." 

He sounded so small, as though he were younger than 22. Perhaps, a part of him was. A gentle smile spreads on your face. 

"Of course we will," you assure, before your voice gets teasing, "the next year, the year after that, and the next year until you get sick of me." You laugh. He doesn't laugh back. It's silent again, the kind of quiet that's full and meaningful. Distantly, you hear a clock ticking somewhere. It's a nice night. Peaceful. God, you were so tired from all the stressing you did for the cake. Satoru wanted to watch a movie after the cake cutting, but you wonder if he'll forgive you if you fell asleep during the film. You were exhausted. 

That's why it takes you a second to register his lips are on yours. 

The kiss is soft, and patient. His mouth moves slowly against yours. You can taste the chocolate. It takes a second to understand what Satoru was doing that he wasn't Toji before your hands are moving, reaching up to his shoulders, keeping him there as you shy away, breaking the kiss. You two stay like that for a few more moments, still touching. You can hear your breath, feel your heartbeat. A little while later, he moves closer, intent on following your mouth, before your brain kicks in and you're shutting him down, standing up. 

Satoru blinks up at you, the realization of rejection sinking into his eyes before you stumble over yourself to apologize because, dear god, you should have seen this coming. 

"I'm so sorry, Satoru," your voice is coming out in clumps, "I never meant to... I always thought...I'm a decade older than you." 

The ocean eyes crystalize, turning into cold tanzanite. You're too muddled with guilt and self-hatred to notice. Of course, Satoru would take things the wrong way. Of course, he'd misunderstand. You always thought he was wise for his age, but he's still in his early twenties. You should have been better and made your boundaries known. God, you were so stupid. 

"So?" he asks, but his voice lacks the usual snark. "Who cares how old you are?" 

You resist the urge to say something accidentally condescending. 'You'll understand when you're older' stings in the back of your tongue, and you wonder if it's fair to say considering how you acted when you were younger than Satoru­­-- when Toji was an older man who found you amusing enough for dinner and a warm bed. 

It's different now. You were older, wiser. Toji had been a mistake. A mistake you miss every day. 

"Of course, you don't," you say, and despite it all, a laugh fumbles out your throat. Shaky, delirious. "Again, I'm so sorry. It's entirely my fault-I-I should have communicated things better."  

"Why does any of that matter?." It's his turn to stand up, and it makes everything so much worse because Satoru's taller than you. "It doesn't, not to me. I lo-" 

"Stop."

It's not a yell, but it's the harshest tone you've ever used on him. Still, it's enough for his breath to falter, to give you a moment of reprieve because the only other person who said that to you and meant it died six years ago. You touch the cold metal of your ring. You twist it around your finger. When Satoru's eyes gaze down, following your movements, you force yourself to stop self-soothing. 

The ticking of the clock starts back up again. You want to smash it. 

"I should go."

You already know it's a bad idea. You shouldn't leave Satoru alone. You should stay, sort things out, mend his heart, but you're human. You want to run, sort yourself out first. You want to take the cowards' way out. Satoru doesn't stop you. You can't bear to look at him, not when it's so much to even be here. Your mind is already being thrown into disarray and you're barely remembering to grab your purse. 

Your hands rest on the door when you pause. You don't bother turning around. You know he's already looking at you. 

"Happy birthday, Satoru." 

For some reason, you cry the entire ride home. 

☔︎︎

Surprisingly, it's Megumi who asks about it. 

It'd been a week since you'd last spoken to Satoru. Communication stills, and stops completely. It goes both ways, he doesn't randomly pop by anymore, scaring the daylights out of you. You no longer buy strange-sounding sweets because you know you won't be seeing him later. One week ago, Satoru was there. The next, he wasn't. 

"Has he said sorry yet?" 

You jolt up, staring at your son. Megumi is still glowering at the vegetables you'd put on his plate. At this point, you know he doesn't hate the food. He just always looks like that. 

"What?" 

"He obviously did something to you." He mutters. "Did he at least say sorry?" 

No matter how uninterested your son always portrayed himself as, he was very observant. Of course, he would. As much as you loved Megumi, you wish he'd be just 10 percent less attentive. 

You force yourself to laugh anyway. "Satoru didn't do anything." You assure. "What makes you say that?" 

"The idiot's been sulking all week," Megumi responds, "everyone's been wondering what's up with him." 

You give him a disapproving look, but you doubt it did anything. Instead, you glance down, mindlessly poking at your plate. 

"Don't call him that," you say softly.

Megumi only shrugs. Despite everything, you still have this strange urge to defend Satoru, if only to save your own dignity of fighting with someone 10 years younger than you.

"Nothing happened. It-it was a misunderstanding, that's all." You hope your smile doesn't look uncertain. He's only ten, but he's already so perceptive. You don't think it's enough to convince him. Your smile drops. You roll your shoulders. 

Another thing you should have seen coming. Of course, Megumi would notice. Despite how annoyed Megumi acts around him, there's still a sort of bond between the two boys. A connection between two sorcerers, something you will never have with your son. You were wrong about your initial assessment about their relationship. They were much closer than you thought. Satoru cared about Megumi, as did Megumi about Satoru. Your souring relationship with Satoru might break that. . 

Your actions have consequences. To everyone, not just yourself. 

"I'll talk to him soon about it, I promise." As if to placate him further, you reach over, patting his hair. He frowns deeper but doesn't make a move to shove you off. 

To your chagrin, soon comes later that evening. Satoru breaks the ice first with a single text. 

you free tomorrow

It's nothing like him. No emoticons. No exclamation marks. You say yes, regardless. The next evening, you step out of the taxi, thanking the driver before stepping onto the Gojo property. 

It was raining, barely a drizzle, not enough to make you want to bring an umbrella. Still, the air was chilly, just enough so that you clutched the coat covering your body tighter. You carefully avoid the puddles adorning the sidewalk. 

You agreed to come here, but it's hard to keep that in mind as you climb the patio steps. You stand in front of the door for an entire minute, counting each second, before you knock. 

"Finally! Took you long enough." 

It's hard to look at him. Already, your gaze threatens to waver. You force yourself not to wrap your arms around your sides. For once, you're glad he wears those sunglasses of his. 

Satoru, on the other hand, barely looks affected by the encounter. He's dressed well, in a white collared shirt and black pants. He smiles cheerily, widening the door so you can step inside. You thank him when he wordlessly mentions for your coat. 

Your eyes catch the living room, along with the coffee table. There'd been a half-eaten birthday cake the last time you'd been here. Now the table is completely clean. You wonder what Satoru had done with it. You hoped he threw it away because the thought of him sitting there, alone, finishing the pastry filled you with so much guilt you could almost feel sick. 

"Did you see the weather just an hour ago?" He asks offhandedly, "thought the rain would smash through my windows, from how loud it was." 

"Oh?" You ask genuinely because you honestly hadn't noticed anything regarding the weather. You'd been stressing about the reunion, mind too preoccupied to care about the skies. 

"'hope the violets survived. I just planted 'em yesterday." He glances out the window as though he could see through the sheets of rain. You hum, already feeling out of place. The silence is only accompanied by the rain lightly patting on the windows. 

"You still love him." When you don't answer right away, Satoru turns back. "That Zenin guy. You love him." 

It catches you so off guard that you can't help but tell the truth. You nod once. 

He's still smiling, but the air feels off somehow. Like you're passing unmarked territory. It's a silly thought, and you brush it off immediately. Despite how strained your relationship is currently, Satoru isn't dangerous. He never will be. 

"Yeah," he responds, "I just don't get why, y'know?" 

You try to smile, but it's like pulling teeth. "I-I don't see how-" 

"It just doesn't make sense. You and him, I mean. You two are so different." 

You couldn't argue with that. Toji and you were on opposite ends. He was from a world that you would never be able to reach, let alone touch. You were a regular woman. He was a man who fought curses on a regular basis. A man who died from it. 

Satoru's laughing; it takes you a moment to realize you might have said some of that out loud. 

"Right. Fuck I keep forgetting that's what I told you." Satoru leans against the counter. "A special grade killed Zenin." 

"I mean, technically, I didn't lie, right? A special grade did kill him. A special grade sorcerer." 

Your brain stops. You can only stare. Satoru reaches up, taking off his glasses, folding them before neatly placing them on the counter. His eyes were always so breathtaking; now they look empty. Soulness. 

You laugh. It sounds delirious. "But-but you said you were one of the only special grade sorcerers around." 

"Yeah." Satoru nods along. 

"Satoru...you're not making any sense..." 

"Really?" Satoru tilts his head. "What part of 'I killed your husband' is confusing for you?" 

He continues at your silence. "I mean, it wasn't like it wasn't for a good reason. The guy shot a junior high girl for cash. Knowing him, he's probably done worse. If you're asking me, I did a good thing by killing him--oh." Satoru pauses at your expression: horrified, broken.

He's smiling. You think that's the worst part. It's the same smile he's always worn. Playful and mischievous. 

"C'mon, you seriously didn't know what he was up to. I can't tell whether you're that stupid or if he was that good at hiding it." 

You should have denied it. You should have said Toji would never do the heinous act Satoru just accused him off, but can you? Could you honestly say that? You knew Toji was in bad shit. You'd always known that. He told you about the gambling, the drugs, the money. After he married you, he promised he walked away from that life, he was walking away with you. One last job, he'd said. Just one last job and he was done forever. 

Something that goes beyond money, Toji had said, something you would never understand. 

You can hardly breathe, sinking against the wall behind you as you collapse onto the floor. Your hands are pressed against your mouth, muffling your sobs as your eyes are filled with tears. Every interaction you've ever had with Toji is flitting through your mind. You can feel the bile in your stomach, threatening to leave your lips, splatter across the floor. 

Your husband was a murderer. 

Your husband was a monster. 

His fingers are cold as he firmly pushes your hands away from your face. You glance up. Satoru stares right back. His smile is gone, replaced by a frown. He squats before you, idly tracing his pointer figure around your cheeks, catching your falling tears. 

"He took everything from me, y'know," he says, quiet, low enough that the rain almost drowns his voice, "in just a day, my entire life changed. Someone died. A person I thought would be by my side my entire life disappeared." 

"But, I gotta' thank him. Without his help, I wouldn't have become stronger, and I wouldn't have you." 

You suck in a breath at that, but Satoru isn't paying attention. His hand traces down to your neck, feeling the skin. 

"I like to think that he gave me you as an apology of sorts. It's nice to think of it that way, right?" 

You look at him, absolutely horrified at how casual he was being. 

Your husband was a monster. 

And he’d left you with another one. 

Immediately, you slap his hands away. 

"Stop." You say, a weak hiss, "don't-don't touch me. Never ever touch me-" 

"Yeah," he interrupts, ignoring your wavering voice, "I didn't think you would jump into my arms after what I said, either. But, hey, a guy can dream, right?" 

What? And before you can think, he's pressing his lips against yours. 

It's not like his first kiss. Before, when it was soft and sweet and he barely pushed, like he was savoring you. This kiss was harsh. Filled with teeth and lust and endless greed. You can taste the inexperience, and the thought that this might be the second time Satoru’s ever kissed someone fills your head. The fight is almost pathetic as you sink into his hold, helpless to do anything but wilt until he's had enough of his fill. You push against his chest, but he only leaves on his terms.

You're both panting, but you're more frazzled. His lips are blushing pink, and there's a string of saliva that stretches before snapping apart. You can feel the way his hands are positioned on your hips. Disgust and self-hatred wells up within you.

"I meant what I said that day: I love you." You squeeze your eyes at his confession. "I mean, what's there not to love? You're sweet; you're hot."

His hands play with the hem of your shirt. You stiffen as you try to claw them off of you, but it doesn't help. You don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. It's morbid curiosity. Looking at a car crash. Your eyes open and you stare at Satoru. 

"But I think the thing I love about you the most is that you'll never hate me." 

Two glowing blue eyes stare back at you. He looks ethereal like this. Even when he's kneeling, he's still taller than you. He's always been above you. Not just in height, you're slowly starting to realize. 

You always thought Satoru hated his last name. You always thought he blamed his lineage for his loneliness, his isolation. He grew up too fast, forced to become something for the sake of others. It's why you tried so hard to treat him like an equal, as though he were another human. 

When he leans in to kiss you again, you finally understand that Gojo never wanted to part from his last name. Why would he? It was always a part of him. It was your fault for trying to humanize and connect with him. You fought for years to see him as an equal that you neglected to ask if he even wanted to be on the same plane as you. 

Perhaps, once he did. Back when candlelight illuminated his face. When chocolate was the only thing you could taste.

"You can't hate me." He smiles against your lips. "You feel too sorry for me." 

"No matter what I do to you, you'll never hate me." 

You start crying again. Satoru hushes you, wiping away your tears in a way that suggests he's not used to being soft and delicate. Yet, he's trying to be. Soon, his gentleness fades, and his impatience seeps in again. It's all too easy for Satoru to haul you to your feet. He was the strongest, after all. You struggle anyway because you're human and your heart is filled with foolish hope. He laughs at your meager attempts to push him away, and you feel that this is all a game for him. Maybe it always was. 

"Satoru-Satoru," you're begging as he pulls you through his empty house, "you don't have to do this. Please just-" 

"See? You still aren't getting it." Satoru sighs, like he's disappointed before he's tossing you in a room. You flail against the bed, your chest pressed against the cushions before he's flipping you onto your back. It's worse when he's hovering over you, both hands on either side of your head, caging you in. 

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. I never have." 

You expect Satoru to kiss you again, that disgusting display where he rips you apart with his teeth, consuming you whole. Instead his pretty blue eyes flit to your clenched hand. He snatches up your wrist, easily unfurling your hand.

You react too late, only reaching up to stop him when he’s done pulling the ring off your finger. Satoru barely gives it an unimpressed look before he’s tossing it aside. You can only stare in the direction of it, watching as the last thing you had of him drops into the darkness. There’s two metallic clinks before it’s rolling to a stop. And then, you hear nothing.

He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I was so sick of looking at that.” He mumbles into your skin, giving it a playful nip. “Parading that thing around in front of another man like that. It’s kinda’ rude, y'know?”

You give another sob when his hands dig underneath your shirt. He presses on the softness of your belly, burying his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans into your neck. You can feel something press against your thigh.

You know what he was planning on doing, he made it clear ever since he dug himself into your skin with fangs. But the evidence. The hands twitching up your shirt, groping and feeling. The bulge grinding against your thigh

You can’t fight him, you stopped trying. Instead, you clench your fists again, letting the last of your tears drip down your face, praying and praying that what Satoru said wasn’t true.

Satoru isn’t nice to your clothes. You don’t know why you thought he ever would be. When he’s done with feeling and not looking, he pushes your shirt up, letting it catch just over the swell of your chest. He’s pushing your bra down, leaning down to trace your skin with his hot, wet tongue.

You jolt at the contact. It’d been so long since you’ve last been touched. He’s barely done anything and yet you’re already so sensitive. Something between a gasp and a moan is pulled out of your lips when Satoru swirls his tongue around your nipple, before he takes it fully in his mouth.

He’s tasting you, savoring you in a way you’d only seen him do for his cherished candy. He’s messy with it too, drool and spit spilling onto your skin, making you feel even colder than you already were.

Satoru has never stopped with just one candy, has he? He’s greedy, popping another and another in his mouth until the bag is all empty. It’s his natural essence to take until there’s nothing left. That’s why his hand trails down to your skirt, pushing it down before you can even decipher what he wants next from you.

You gasp when his hand presses against your panties, pushing them between your folds. The fabric lightly brushes against your clit, not enough for you to have any kind of relief. Still, a tingle jolts up your back.

“You’re soaked!” Satoru’s exclaiming. His voice comes out in the form of a laugh, light and innocent. It hurts to hear him sound like that. You have no more tears to cry again.

You want to tell him that it wasn’t you, that you don’t want him, that it’s just your body, but you doubt he cares about any of that. He pushes your panties down, letting them sit against your thighs before he’s pushing a finger deep into your wet pussy.

You can’t stop the noises this time. It’s more of a yelp than a moan, but Satoru takes it in stride as he continues to finger fuck you. When he digs a second finger into your hole, there’s a wet squelch of a sound. You have to turn away, but you can feel his smile against your skin. Victorious.

His other hands comes, pushing in between your breasts to keep you on the bed as he plants butterfly kisses down your ribs, your stomach, your hips, all the way down until he’s practically on his knees.

You were right to assume his inexperience. He’s sloppy, spreading his saliva and your wetness all over your pussy. There’s no rhythm, no clear pattern as he’s trying everything at once--swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit before licking his way into your hole.

And yet, it’s working. Your battered cunt responds to his enthusiasm, and your walls squeeze his fingers.

You can’t stop your noises. You don’t think he’s trying to stop his. His voice is muffled by your pussy, but he’s moaning and groaning so loudly. You think he’s saying something, but you can hear anything over the wet sounds of your cunt, the throbbing between your ears.

Your orgasm was inevitable, but you’re still surprised when it hits. Ramming into you like a train. Your back arches, and your thighs are involuntarily squeezing Satoru’s head. Keeping him there.

There’s a hum of satisfaction coming from him, but he doesn’t pull away. He folds your thighs, pushing them up into your chest so he can get more access to your pussy, sucking even harder on your clit. You were so far out of it that you can barely remember that this isn’t for you. It’s all for him. Satoru is greedy. It’s his natural essence to take and take until you’re nothing more than an empty bag, once filled with something sweet.

He doesn’t stop until you’ve come around his fingers and tongue a second time, when your cries are on the brink of overstimulation. When Satoru finally pulls away, the bottom half of his face is shiny. He keeps his eyes on you, messily wiping the remnants of you off his face before his leaning forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

Unlike you, he doesn’t bother undressing himself. He’s unraveling his belt from his waist, pushing his pants down enough that he’s able to untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s already hard, giving his dick two cursory pumps before he’s settling his on either side of your body, keeping you there.

He’s big. Big enough that you worry he might actually succeed in breaking you. A semblance of rebellion, motivated by fear than anything else, stirs inside you. You push yourself up, elbows pressing against the mattress before he’s ending it.

There’s a grin, a flash of teeth, before he’s roughly pushing you down again.

“Satoru-“You start, you beg.

“Shut it,” he says, his smile too dangerous to be friendly, “if it isn’t begging me to fuck you, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

As though he’s taking the sight in himself, he hovers over you. The light from the window gently caresses his face in an angel kiss. His white hair is almost like halo, swathing him in an innocent shade of beauty.

When Satoru sinks his cock deep inside of you, you wonder if he’s defiling you or himself.

Just like before, he doesn’t bother letting you acclimate. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t hold off. You can’t expect him too. Your pussy is squeezing him, edging him on. How could you expect him to not take it as a challenge and fuck you the way he’s dying to?

It’s exactly what he does as he bullies his cock deep inside your walls again and again. He whimpers, high and pitchy before he’s leaning down to bite and lick at your neck, your chest, leaving your skin with marks and bruises that will last for days.

Satoru loses his sharpness the more he’s inside of you. You cry when he leans down, circling his thumb across your clit.

“So good,” he’s mumbling into your sweaty skin, like a mantra, “so good so good. You’re so good. I love you I love you I love you-“

It’s torture to hear him say that over and over again and a part of you tries to force yourself to think of someone else to give you comfort. Scarred lips. Thick black hair.

You can’t.

Satoru has taken away everything, even your dreams.

There’s another gasp before he’s harshly gripping on your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are blown open, wide and manic.

“Say my name,” he’s begging but his grip is too tight to be anything but an order, “I-I need you to-fuck-say my name.”

“Sa-Satoru.” He lurches at that, almost collapsing into your chest.

“Again.”

“Satoru,” and then you say it again and again and again because your brain’s too muddled to do anything but listen to him.

His thumb is moving faster and faster on you clit, his thrusts are getting sloppier.

“Gonna-gonna fill you up,” An alarm of panic ring as he’s blabbering, words stilted and strained, “I gotta’—I just gotta’, can’t think of ‘nothing else—fuck fuck.” He adjusts your legs, folding your body in half so he can push that much deeper inside of you.

He smiles again. Wild. Unhinged. The monsoon that is Gojo Satoru. If you won’t wash away with him, then he is more than happy to drown you in his rain.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his voice a mix of a laugh and a groan, “think the kid would like a younger sibling?”

You can barely process his words. You don’t think Satoru could process his either. His orgasm triggers your own, and you’re both tipping over the edge together. His cum fills your pulsing cunt, searing your insides with white heat.

Satoru collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress of expensive sheets. You two stay like that, just the sounds of your harsh breathing fills the room. Satoru gives a shaky kiss on your lips, just as sweet and chaste as the first time.

He stays there for another minute, before he’s pushing himself up again. You can’t understand what he’s doing until you realize he’s still hard inside of you.

“Satoru—” it’s a plea, your voice overwrought with exhaustion, “Don’t—"

“One more, ‘kay?” he slurs, pushing his cock as deep as it could get inside of you, “Just—Just one more.”

You wake up hours later. It's pitch-black, the lights are gone. Distantly, you can feel Satoru's hand curled around your waist. He'd fallen asleep with his head buried in your neck. You can feel his rhythmic breathing against your skin. Outside, the rain beats on the windows, and thunder rattles in the sky. 

You wait for it—the anger, the hatred—for yourself to hate Gojo Satoru. 

He was right. Nothing came.