#neck is absolutely killing me right now

[seventh-district]

it’s finally getting cold enough that i can bring my cardigan collection back into rotation without feeling like i’m gonna melt into a puddle the second i step outside!!!

[zappedbyzabka]

Kreerence <3 (gnaws on ceiling fan)

[tonycries]

Golden Boy - G.S.

Synopsis. Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends/lovers to enemies to lovers, oral (fem receiving), facesítting, creampíe, slight Gojo x Reader, running away from it, Suguru is so SOOO in love still, unprotected, spítting, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort, mentions of bIood and kníves, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. I was listening to fantasmas while writing this so take that how you will LMAO.

The difficult part, surprisingly, wasn’t infiltrating Geto Suguru’s Time Vessel Association. No, a few faux tears, a decoy curse, and you were in - stepping through his grandiose hideout. The difficult part was convincing yourself that you were here to kill him. 

Something that utterly foolish little part of yourself still had trouble believing - even when you had a knife to his throat. 

“Any last words?” you spit, muffled through your mask, thankful for the way it covers up just how much your voice shakes. Maybe because of the way his lips curl into a familiar smile, maybe from his cool dagger pressing against the back of your neck.

Seconds away from a bloodbath. 

You don’t know if you’re breathing - or if he is either. Eyes locked on the way Sugur- your target only raises his hand up, up, up - getting ready to strike. To kill. Only you’d get him first and-

Snip!

You’re not dead. But you might as well have been, because your mask falls onto the tatami mat with a deafening clatter. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

It’s hard not to remember. 

“You don’t have any right to say that.” your knees tighten around where you had him straddled to the ground. Your hand pinning one of his down, blade digging deeper into Suguru’s pale neck - eyeing the slow, steady drop of blood that beads down it. “Didn’t think you’d remember me, either.”

With your mask now no longer on your face, you could traitorously take in that relaxed grin - as if your life wasn’t in his hands right now. As if he didn’t care. 

Suguru’s hair was much longer now, splayed out across the floor inkily. Circling around his broad shoulders, around the eyes that were just a bit harder than they were ten years ago. And yet, you catch the way they flicker briefly with something so raw as he whispers gently, “How could I ever forget my first love?”

So quiet that you could’ve blamed it on your imagination - and you wish you did. 

It’s so unfair. 

Unfair how you let out a gasp, despite yourself. Unfair how you were the best sword wielder that Jujutsu had to offer, yet your fingers tremble on your knife. Heart stuttering at the mere sight of the way his eyes crinkle with the beginnings of a smile. Pleading, like all he could see was you from what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago. 

Those golden years. Back when rare Susanoomon cards were what you’d fight over, and the only stains he’d wipe off were from the grassy grounds of Jujutsu High, still faint underneath the encrusted blood on that uniform nestled away deep in his wardrobe.

You manage to grit out, “Shut up. You left me- us.”

“I did.”

Like it was all he wanted to see. 

“You never loved me.”

“I do.”

Your voice is shrill at this point, words stumbling over each other. “You’ve massacred more people than you’ve saved.”

Suguru wastes no time denying - or in any niceties. Looking right into your absolutely crazed eyes as he answers, “I have.” And his answer rings so hollow and emotionless in your ears, cold-blooded. Absolutely nothing like the boy you remembered. The one that would laugh and steal you away to take you around campus on his bicycle, all because the next class was “too far”.

“I- fuck.” You place both hands on the hilt of your blade, distantly registering the way that Suguru lets his own drop onto the floor. “I should kill you- I should kill you right now.”

Just one flick of your wrist. Fast and simple. 

In and out - exactly like you’d been ordered to. 

“And to die by your hand would be a death that someone like me doesn’t deserve.”

You both jolt when your knife hits the ground - as if neither of you were expecting it. And before you can stop yourself, you’re fisting his thick robes, pulling Suguru’s face up closer to yours. Mere inches away. 

“Then- then I’ll-” you choke, a hand coming up to dig into the sides of his milky neck, leaving neat, red indents on his skin. “I’ll kill you with my own hands, Suguru.”

And he’s known you for years - would never admit it, but was by your side for only half as long as he’d watched over you. 

Saw - only from a distance -  those big fat tears you cried at graduation, the curve of your lips as you pulled a very reluctant Nanami into a hug outside his new office building. The steely look in your eyes meeting Satoru’s much softer one, telling him first how you’re going into teaching. And the smile on your face when you thought of who else might have, too. If he’d gotten the chance.

Always hidden.

Never so close to this frenzied glint in your gaze, a tiny sob threatening to escape your lips. Never like this - and yet, he never thinks you’ve looked so beautiful. 

But what would someone like him know about beauty, anyway?

You flinch as Suguru reaches a hand up to thumb away the furrow between your brows, catching on the single, stray tear sitting at your cheekbone. Whispering - so low that you involuntarily crane your head closer to hear - “Still such a crybaby.”

“And you’re still going to be the death of me.”

Soft - Suguru’s lips are as soft as you imagined. And it’s not exactly the tender, picture-perfectly romantic first kiss his teenage self dreamt up with you, but fuck if he wasn’t going to remember this like it was. 

Perfect. 

Pretty lips smothering yours, all slow and sensual. Drinking in those deliciously breathless gasps of yours as he sucks on your candied lips. 

You gasp, “Suguru.” and it comes out teary. Making you finally register the wetness rolling down your cheeks, glistening against the dim lighting. You tighten your grip around his neck, “This won’t fix-”

“I know.” Fuck, does he know better than anyone else. 

A hand slides up your forearm, the other cupping your face to pull you closer. He’s running his hot tongue along your cheek, pooling your salty tears on his lips. “But let me make you forget - if just for tonight. Please.”

The only answer Suguru gets is your fingers leaving his neck, dancing feather-light across his sculpted shoulders to slide under his robe. Feeling the smooth plane of his pecs underneath your palm, that traitorously thundering heartbeat he wishes he could slow down. “Kiss me.”

“Fuck.” he pants into your open mouth. The sight of your glossy, slightly puffy lips having him surge forward to reattach his with yours with a pained grunt. “God- jus’ a bit more, my love.”

Again. And again and again- like he was addicted. 

He’d always been, with you, anyway.

You let out a sinful sound of his name when Suguru kisses down your neck, lips slotting over your racing pulse. Throbbing and so real under his lips, remembering how he used to feel this song under his arms long before. 

“Oh- shit.” you moan, when his now rougher - larger - hands sneak underneath your crumpled shirt, deftly unbuttoning. Unbuckling. Impatient. “Sugu-”

A hoarse groan leaves him, only spurring him to all but rip the rest of your uniform off your body faster. 

And at the first sight of you clad in nothing but your panties, Suguru’s kiss-bitten lips are falling slack. Brows shooting up into the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead now, “Been missing out, hm?” He’s dipping a hand down to run the back of his index along your clothed, puffy folds. Up and down. “Really been-” Heart clenching when he remembers the way Satoru now looks at you with a familiar glint. One he knew all too well. “-missing out, my love.”

You’re only trailing your fingers along his cheek - his neck, grazing over that little mark from your blade. He groans - maybe from your touch, probably from the way you’re dragging your cunt across that massive bulge underneath you. “Please, Suguru. Wan’ you.” 

And if Geto Suguru has spent ten years denying himself, surely he could sacrifice it for the way he lifts your stuttering, sloppy hips up so easily. All the way up until they were hovering over his mouth, hot breath hitting your clothed cunt. 

“Wanna taste you.” he groans, spying on the way your slick beads through your panties. “Wan’ see if you’re as hah- sweet as I imagined. Please.”

And he’s obsessed with the way you’re sinking yourself down so gently, cock jumping at the thought of you afraid you’d suffocate him - as if you didn’t have your blade at his throat just minutes ago.

“Fuuuck, don’t worry, pretty.” he groans, soft darting to lick at the juices smeared across your inner thighs. “Some more now. Put it all on me, I can take it- fuck-”

Your syrupy sweet cunt has Geto losing whatever’s left of his fucking restraint, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head because you were so sweet. So pretty looking down at him with your glassy eyes. So addictive. He moans, chest heaving as he breathes in your essence. “What happened to that feist from earlier? Gonna hafta do a lil’ more than that now.”

“B-but-”

It’s at this moment you realize that at any given moment Suguru could’ve easily taken the upper hand. A hand of his pulls down your hesitant hips, swollen lips against your covered ones in such a filthy kiss. 

He hums into your folds, bunching your panties between them. “Mmm. Shit- jus’ like I imagined.” Hot tongue dipping just underneath the flimsy fabric to feel out your sloppy entrance, “Better, even. Jus’ look how well you’re taking me, pretty.”

But you don’t - too scared to find out that you’d like the sight more than you should. How you wished you could go back to the golden days where it didn’t matter - wasn’t a matter of life and death. And something else entirely. 

And this dilemma has Suguru’s brows furrowing, sharp canines lightly nipping at one of your swollen folds. Wanting to see how it’s him - despite everything, it’s still him making you feel this way. “None of that now.”

RIP!

With this you have to look down, a desperate whine leaving your stupid mouth at the fucking sinful sight down below. Your panties now a tattered excuse in between Suguru’s teeth, baring them with such a devilish grin right up at you. 

“See?” he spits out the fabric onto the floor beside him, half-lidded eyes peering up at you so sultry. Looking right at you as his tongue lolls out, spreading your bare, needy folds shamefully. “Isn’t this much better?”

“Hngh- fuck, yes-” you slide your fingers through his now-messy hair, falling out of that half-bun. Jolting on top with each push of his tongue past that feeble ring of resistance, the lewd squelches leaving you with each graze of the wet muscle against your walls. “Shit- Suguru it feels too good. So deep ngh-”

He swats a hand against your ass, making you sit your slutty hips down deeper, all the way till Suguru’s jaw was grinding so greedily against your cunt. Tongue bullying past your folds in and out in and out in and-

“God- hah-” he’s pulling away to gasp deep lungfuls of air - secondary, to the way he was back immediately to making out so hotly with your tight pussy. “Mmm fuck. This cute lil cunt is so needy. S’like you’re trynna suck my tongue off.” Thumb reaching up to draw slow, languid circles that have you throwing your head back. “So perfect.”

Your delirious mouth is dropping open, body moving before your mind as you strain to reach your hand behind. Trembling. Shaky when you manage to cup Suguru’s aching erection. 

“G-guess m’not the only one ah- needy, hm?” you smirk, having him bucking and spitting out harsh little profanities with each rub of your palm down his drenched length. 

Suguru doesn’t give you a response - because his fingers are speaking on his behalf. Dipping into your sloppy hole, locating your g-spot, as if on instinct. He’s milking your pretty cunt while he roams for those sweet spots. Lips muffling around your throbbing clit, “You’re always right, my love. You always were.”

And his words are so gentle - mouth so sloppy. Squelches so obscene. 

Nose pressing up at the top of your abdomen, cheeks hollowing wetly around the sensitive nub. Letting your juices drip all the way down his chin, his jaw, dangerously close to that cut on his neck. 

The hand sliding back and forth across the swollen outline of his cock had Suguru get more frenzied. Faster. Like it was his personal mission to make you cum on his tongue before he fucking passed out. 

Penetrating your gummy hole with both his fingers and his tongue, spreading it open more. And it’s all you can do to keen, “Oh- oh my god.” Riding Suguru’s pretty face harder. “Shit- m’close, Suguru.”

“Always right.” he gasps, swiping his tongue faster across your clit. “Always perfect” Alternating between squeezing back into your hole, your sweet spots. Stretching out your gummy walls as far as they’d go. “Always made f’me.” Assaulting it with both his fingers and his tongue. Again. And again and again and- “Jus’ wish I got to have you sooner.”

His words make you snap your eyes up from his mean mouth to meet his gaze, devouring you as greedily and depraved as his tongue. They make your thighs burn with the effort to drag your sloppy pussy faster.

They make you cum - shaking, crying out little mewls of “Ngh- fuck. M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”

The way your voice is breaking at the end of each moan has Suguru’s cock straining so painfully against his trousers. One hand firmly on your waist, arching you deeper to tongue you through your high in ways he’s only ever dared to imagine. 

Ways he’s selfishly hoped only he could - even after all these years, the sight of any other man looking at you wrong having his irritation flaring. 

“S’right.” his voice is sending stars bursting behind your lids, tongue even worse. Having you pleading and so sensitive. “I got you, my love. Give it t’me.” Messy - not as forgiving as he’d like to be. “Give it alllll to me.”

And you do - all but smothering Suguru’s eager tongue with all your sweet juices. Ones he’s lapping up happily, tilting his head back as far as it’d go on the floor, letting your heady slick fill up his throat. His pussydrunk lips let out a hiss, both at the burn of that cut on his neck, and the way you’re desperately pulling your hips back. 

Too overstimulated. Too fucking sensitive. Too much - but it would never be enough for Suguru. 

“Please, Suguru.” you sob at the way your limp hips are being pulled back by a needy Suguru. “M’too sensitive. I- fuck-” He’s only lapping at your quivering cunt leisurely, smirk prominent against your swollen folds. 

And it’s all you can do to deliriously slip a hand underneath his robes, a desperate attempt to keep whatever shred of sanity you have left. Fingers feeling down his unfairly toned abs, the tufts of hair at his pelvis, reaching-

“Oh fuck!” Your heavy eyes admire the way Suguru arches into your touch in surprise - like he couldn’t help himself. Eyes flying open, glossy, plump lips curling into a disbelieving grin, “Ya really are made f’me, huh?” 

That’s all it takes for Suguru to head to your lewd whims, bruising fingers on your hips finally loosening to let you sit your sloppy cunt back down on his lap - except, this time, you were seated directly on his rock-hard cock. Pussy lips spreading around his length to just soak him. 

“Oh, my love.” He sits up, splaying you out so prettily on his lap. “How I’ve missed you.”

You don’t even register the way you’re raising your head up to meet Suguru’s - not until he spits. Once. Twice. Straight onto your awaiting tongue that you didn’t even realize you were sticking out, saccharine sweet saliva making such a mess when he’s crashing his lips into yours. 

“Yeahh, like that. Kiss me like that.” he slurs against your mouth, drunk off both sets of your sweet lips. Getting out through wet, sloppy pecks. “How I wish I had you sooner.”

You can feel your heart thumping so wildly against your ribcage, matching the needy, needy staccato of Suguru’s cock throbbing between your puffy folds. And, well, you really can’t be blamed for the way you break the kiss to look down and oh-

Oh Suguru notices that furrow between your brows, kissing away the nervous little wobble in your lower lips as he grunts, “God, you’re killin’ me.” 

Fuck. Killing him?

You were the one sent in for the kill, but it seems you won’t be making it out here alive. 

Because Suguru was so big, girth rubbing up against your thighs. So angry and heavy, smearing hot precum over his abs, your cunt, adding to add to the absolute mess. Long enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk out of here - which, honestly, Suguru would’ve preferred. To keep you with him forever. 

To have you always mewling so prettily when he’s dragging his fat head down your sensitive slit. To have his name - and only his name - leave your bruised lips when he’s asking, “Who’s got you this wet?” 

You’re so cockdrunk already that you’re groaning mindlessly, “You- Suguru-”

“No, that’s not what you call me.” 

And it takes you a few, long seconds to understand what he’s saying, all the while trying to focus with the leaky tip being pressed past your swollen folds. Slow. Torturous. Hitting you so violently at the same time he slips past that first, slutty ring of muscle. 

“Sugu!”

A blinding grin splits across Suguru’s absolutely fucked-out face, brows furrowing together in ecstasy. “That’s more hah- like it.” Not having heard that familiar little nickname - one of your many - fall from your lips since high school - one that makes a heart he forgot he had grow five sizes too large. “Now, just take me-” Hips bucking up, so strong and ruthless. “-like I know you can, okay?”

Over and over. 

You can’t let out anything but barely-lucid whines at this point, letting Suguru sink in inch by fucking inch. Your walls stretched out so perfectly to take his sheer size. But the stretch- oh, the stretch.

Fuck, it has you clawing at Suguru’s exposed shoulders, fingers leaving angry, red marks down the muscles. An obscene ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with each time he reels his hips back, only to bully his aching cock inside until he physically couldn’t.

“Hngh- Sugu, s’too big-” You buck your hips down in shallow, tentative grinds to meet his filthy method of fitting in. “Too- much. Didn’t expect you to be so mean-”

“The sorcerer that hah- held a knife to the infamous Geto Suguru’s neck-” he groans, hands groping your ass to move you further down his massive cock. To watch the way your sloppy entrance was stretching out so much to suck him up. “-can take this too, right? I know you can.” He reaches a deft thumb around to toy with your pretty clit, making your cunt relax like the good girl she is. Fucking up deeper, just a bit more mean. “You- can-”

Several things happen at the tail end of Suguru’s sentence - he’s finally fitting in all in one go. With a calculated, harsh thrust up into your poor cunt, your ass is kissing his heavy balls, pussy rubbing against the hair at his hilt. So full and so much.

And Suguru knows he just might not see heaven - but shit, does he feel like he’s there right now. The feeling so good that both of you letting out mingling gasps of pleasure. 

Your back falling onto the now soiled mats like such animals, the other not far behind.

“You alright, my love?” Suguru hums against your throat when you’re managing to adjust somewhat to the stretch, aware enough to kiss the palm resting protectively underneath your head - making sure you don’t hurt yourself.

You bat your teary lashes, “Never been better, Sugu.”

And something about that makes him remember. 

Remember the way you’d tell him the exact same thing when you fought with curses too strong for you - coming back to the dorms all battered and bruised, but alive. Flashing him that addictive grin, and a crooked thumbs up, “Never been better, Sugu. Gold, actually.”

His golden girl.

Shaking away the tightness at his throat, Suguru instead focuses on wrapping your trembling legs around his toned waist. Tight.

“Sh-shit- you’re milkin’ me so good, fuck-”

Abs burning as he just drags his cock along your plushy walls, keeping your legs held wide open for him. So tight - like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Making sure to angle his hips in just the way that’ll have your eyes tearing at the way he was massaging all your sweet spots. 

And sure enough - “O-oh my god-” you breathe, and shit, it was so hard to speak. Suguru’s cock too big, too depraved. Speeding up with every ram of his hips into a steady, mean pace. “Jus’ like that, fuck-”

“Mhm?”

You paw at his free hand settled by the side of your neck, trailing it down, down, down - rings and all - to the part of your stomach you could feel his thick tip hitting. A slight bulge, abusing your cervix over and over, “Here-”

“-s’where I belong.”

Your brows raise at his interjection, and you swipe away the long locks of hair partially covering Suguru’s face, legs tightening around his hips as you take a long, hard look. He repeats, “S’where I belong. Where ngh- you belong.”

Like some deep, dark part of him was trying to fuck out any and every doubt about this out of you - as if you’d have any - Suguru’s rolling his hips harder into yours. All the way until it almost hurt - until the sting of his twitching balls against your ass felt permanent, fingerpads pressing down so hard on your stomach. 

Lips searing against yours, punctuating each word with a jagged, rough thrust. “Because you sh-shouldn’t be ah- here. You shouldn’t be-” He drags you deeper onto his dick like some ragdoll, fingers frenzying on your clit. “-with me.”

Words slurring and as sloppy as his hips now. 

“Wh-why fuck- why wouldn’t I be?”

“Heh, you forgot?” Suguru spits out a chuckle, pushing you further and further up the mat with how bruising his hips were hitting yours. Alternating between marking your cervix - your g-spot - your gummy walls. “Forgot how I told ya to live a better life than this?” Everything and anything. Hips smacking so loud, echoing in symphony with those melancholy words he parted with so long ago. “How I told you to hngh- find a-another? Live a long life? To be happy?”

Now that Suguru was talking, it was like he couldn’t stop. Like a damn had been broken - both with his words and his movements. The curve of his dick drives you wild, veins molding your cunt into their shape. 

Gritting his teeth to hold back the way his drenched balls squeeze so painfully, biting down on your lower lip. “You’re s-supposed to kill me.” A drop of sweat splashing down on your cheek, “To kill me and maybe you’ll be hah- fuck mine in another universe. But not this one.” It’s like he’s out of control now, “Never this one. You can have anybody else.”

And suddenly you’re having a flashback to just a week prior, to an uncharacteristically solemn Satoru telling you words you should’ve been happy to hear. Quiet, and unassuming. Ones you knew that had you heard them before knowing Suguru, you’d have jumped into his arms - exactly how he hoped you would, the day of his departure. 

Chuckling at you being such a “crybaby” about him leaving. After all, this was just meant to be, right?

But no.

Instead, you’re here. Bunching Suguru’s beautiful, glossy hair curtaining the sides of your head, into a ponytail. Difficult - with how he was getting faster. Harder. Just ravaging your hole until you were gaping and breathless.

And yet, arms trembling and limp, you still manage to reveal the boy you fell in love with - the one you could never forget. From the flush on his pretty face, to the twisted, sad curve of his mouth. And the eyes that bore into yours like they were searching for the same thing. Smiling, for the first time since you entered this place, “How could I ever want anyone else, Sugu?”

The hand on your stomach is cupping your adorable face so softly - and it’s hard to believe those hands have killed. Betrayed.

Like they were capable of doing anything but as Suguru swipes the single tear glistening down your cheek, “Still a crybaby, huh, my love?”

And then you cum - and Suguru isn’t too far behind. 

It’s just a flash of hot white, tingles running down your spine - all the way to the thick, creamy base soon forming around his wildly twitching cock. 

And it’s so good. Too good that all you can do it scream out his name, letting him do anything - and you were glad all he did was fuck you so mercilessly through your high. So violent. Addictive. 

Vision blurry, mouth sagging open for Suguru to press intimate little kisses along the corners of your mouth. Whispering sweet praises as your cunt sucks him up so good. So sinfully milking him for everything he’s worth. 

Taking in rope after rope of thick cum that warms your gummy walls from the inside, overfilling just enough for it to dribble down into the mat below in an obscene little pool. Smearing down your thighs, his balls. Heavenly. 

His heaven.

And in the haze of it all, Suguru imagines that you’ll reach for your knife again, press it back against the curve of his exposed neck. He imagines you’ll laugh in his face, tell him what a great whim this was but you had to get back to your job, turning your back on him as he has done before. He imagines.

But what he gets is your strained, fucked-out little voice, “I missed you, my golden boy.”

A/N. Yes, That Line was inspired by HTTYD. If I had to be hurt, y’all do, too. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BETTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what happens when your boyfriend cheats on you and you look towards your best friend for help

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, reader gets cheated on, riding, sending a video to your ex, oral (f!receiving), car sex, kinda cute/some fluff in the beginning, pet names (doll, princess, baby, sweetheart), creampie, possessiveness, choking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

ᯓ★ TOJI

When you showed up on Toji’s doorstep in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face he was more than ready to kill whoever made your cry. He wasn’t surprised when you told him your shitty boyfriend had cheated on you and not with just one girl but multiple. Toji never liked your boyfriend, he could tell that guy was up no to good from the start, reading him like a book. He’d be sure to beat the shit out of him once he helped you gain composure.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” you hiccuped as he wiped your tears.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. You know I’m always here for you.” He gave you a soft smile. Toji hated to see you this way, you were too pretty to be crying over some guy who looked like he crawled from the sewers. “That guy was a piece of shit. You deserve better.”

“But, every guy I’ve been with or tried to be with has done me so wrong!” It only made more tears spill from your eyes. Toji engulfed you in a hug, rubbing your back. “Toji?” You sniffled.

“Yeah?” He pulled away from you, wiping your tears again.

“Kiss me. Right now,” you demanded. You had to see for yourself if what you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks was absolutely true. Toji had zero clue, but you’ve been thinking about him way too much, more than a best friend should, feeling more than a best friend should. And when he planted his lips on yours, cupping your face, kissing you like a starved man, you didn’t quite expect your tears of sadness to be turned into tears of pleasure.

“Nnngh, Toji!” You moaned, his fat tip rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust of his hips. Your arms clung around his neck, fingers resting in his black silky hair.

“Can’t—mmm, fuck—believe he’d cheat on you! His fucking loss!” He growled in your ear, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hugging you close to him. Your pussy clenched down around him, milking him for his every worth, juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “So tight, doll—oh shit!” He grunted. Lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room, echoing off the walls around you. “Been wanting you forever, craving you.”

Your brows furrow in pleasure, barely able to contain your moans as you and Toji stare into each others eyes. “M-me too!” You whimper, nodding your head at him. You lips messily interlock, tongue gliding against one another, swallowing each others moans.

“Let’s show him what he’s missing, baby.” He smirks, reaching for your phone on the couch. His thrusts come to a stop, clicking on your now ex boyfriend’s contact and opening the camera to record a video. “Go nice and slow for me,” he says huskily.

Slowly, you move your hips up and down his thick shaft, whimpering when you feel him throb against your walls. Toji angles the camera up, a devious look in his eye. He moves it back down when you start to move faster, you sloppy pussy squelching when you slam your hips down on his. Toji slaps your ass a few times before grabbing it, guiding your hips to go slower once again. “That’s it, doll. Good fucking girl,” he lowly chuckles in your ear. Toji ends the video, sending it and tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” you giggle, biting down on your lip. Not even one minute passed before your phone began ringing, vibrating on the couch but you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to even notice. “Ah, you’re so deep,” you mewl, the curve of his dick making your back arch.

“Better get used to it cause we won’t be stopping anytime soon.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, sloppily thrusting into your poor pussy. “You’re my girl now.” He’s slamming your hips back down on his cock, fucking you deeply, making sure every inch of him is coated in your juices. He quickly pulls out, jerking his cock before thick globs of cum coat your skin before he’s inserting himself back inside your dripping entrance. Neither of you noticing the five missed calls and fifteen unread texts from your ex.

ᯓ★ GOJO

As soon as you called Gojo crying, he basically teleported to your house. When he learned that your boyfriend had cheated on you and you kicked him out, he was the least bit shocked. For the past month you’ve told Gojo that your boyfriend has been acting off, and finally the truth came to light.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned, rubbing the top of your head as you cried into his chest. It hurt Gojo to see you like this, constantly seeing you get hurt by these shitty guys who didn’t know any better. He had a massive crush on for the longest time and he’s always been afraid to say anything. He’d treat you better, treat you the way you’ve always deserved.

“I just don’t it, Toru! Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned.

“No, no! It’s not you all! You’re absolutely perfect. He’s a fucking asshole for not seeing that sooner. You’re kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. You’re everyone’s dream girl, y/n.” It may have sounded like he was only trying to be nice, but in reality he was speaking from his heart.

“Awe, Toru, thank you,” you giggled through your tears. Gojo looked at you few seconds, the most sincere expression written on his face.

So how, in only a few minutes, did he make you go from giggling to moaning like bitch in heat?

“Feel better, princess?” He mumbles against your cunt, sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit. “Please tell me you feel better,” he whines.

“Toru—mmph! What’s—ah! Oh my god!” He slides his long, slender fingers into your sopping hole, pumping them in and out, curling them up slightly. Your jaw falls slack at the way his tongue expertly explores your folds, licking up every last drop of your essence. Your hand clings to his fluffy white hair, his hands pushing your legs open each time they threat to close around his head.

“Taste so good, princess. Just like I imagined—mmm,” he moans at your delectable taste, ignoring the way your squirming in his hold and clenching around his fingers as your second orgasm approaches. His captivating eyes flutter open to look at you, watching the way you lose yourself on his tongue. He could tell your boyfriend—ex boyfriend has never pleasured you like this before, let alone made you cum.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Feels so good—hah, shit! Toruuu!” You cry out, legs quivering when the tip of his tongue runs back and forth over your clit.

“Promise me something, yeah?” He moves his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole slowly, bringing you right on the edge. “Be mine? I’ll treat you so good, princess. Been wanting to for the longest time, god, you’re so fucking perfect. Please?” He presses soft kisses to your thighs that make your breath hitch.

“You’re confessing now?!” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Gojo smiles up at you. “Is that a yes?” He quirks a brow. He presses the pads of his fingers against your g-spot massaging slowly.

“Ah,” you bite down on your lip, “you’re no fair!” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s a yessssuhh.” You’re barely able to get the word out before he dips his head between your legs again, his wet tongue circling your clit. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming again!” Your head is thrown back as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

“Thank you, princess,” Gojo murmurs.

ᯓ★ NANAMI

Nanami noticed you haven’t been yourself for the past couple of days and he didn’t dare to ask but he had a feeling it had something to do with that obnoxious and egotistical boyfriend of yours. It always had something to do with him no matter what. He didn’t think of it when you asked him if you can come over and watch a movie, but not even five minutes in the door you start explaining everything. You didn’t cry, just talked and talked about it, venting about the situation. He was glad to be an ear. He’ll always be here to help.

“I’m just so frustrated and I hate feeling this way!” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you need to deal with it in other ways rather than venting,” he suggested.

“Like what? Drinking my problems away? I’d rather not.” You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal.

What didn’t cross your mind was the fact your best friend was talking about having you bent over, fucking you into the mattress. “K-Ken! F-fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut when he thrusts his hips harder, the tip of his swollen cock pressing into your sweet spot.

His thick fingers squeeze into your plush skin, pulling you back onto his cock. He leans over next to your ear, breath fanning against your skin sweaty skin. “He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Not like I do.” He peppers kisses down your back, a contrast of you screaming his name.

Your walls squeeze around him at his words, your pussy somehow growing wetter than it already was, creating a sloppy and sticky mess where you two met. Your hands grasped the sheets below. “Yes, Ken, handle me, show me you can handle me!” You grit your teeth, looking back at him.

A feral growl escapes his throat, blonde hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He reaches a hand down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushes your head into the mattress, the sound of skin to skin slapping against each other growing constant as he fucks your hard and deep with such a grueling pace. “I can handle you, sweetheart,” he chuckles deeply. “Better than your boyfriend.” He licks his lips.

“Mmm—ah, yes!” You laugh with a smile. “Ex.” You’re quick to correct.

“Who gives a fuck what he is—hah, shit, sweetheart, gripping me so damn tight.” He’s so focused on the way your ass ripples against his hips, addicted to how warm and wet your cunt is. It was hypnotizing. Your jaw hung open, eyes rolled back, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and onto the bed below you. Each rut of his hips had you going stupid, barely able to think.

Successfully, you can say that his method of dealing with your problems has worked better than you could’ve imagined. “Feel so good inside me! Don’t stop!” You cry out, voice wavering. The stretch of his cock against your gummy walls had you craving more. So much more to the point you wanted to feel all of him. “Cum in me.” You’re bitting down your lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood.

Those three words have Nanami’s eyes wide in excitement. His body runs hot, your words making the blood rush straight to his pulsating cock. “D-don’t say stuff—mmph—like that,” he grunts.

“I thought you could handle me?” You’re smirking, playing with fire. His rough hands grip onto your hips harder, hard enough to leave bruises. Each thrust of his ragged hips shoots bolts of pleasure through your core.

His brows furrow in concentration, grunts and growls mixing in with your moans as his abs tense up, body jolting forward as his sloppily thrusts into your greedy hole. “I can handle you better than anyone else and you know it!” His hand swats your ass, a loud smack cracking in the air. “Nngh, shit!” Before he knows it, his tip kisses your cervix, pulling you back on his cock as his hot cum paints your walls.

ᯓ★ GETO

When you told Geto about your boyfriend cheating on you, he knew you’d needed to be comforted despite what you said. So he planned a day just for you to do your favorite things in attempts to take your mind off of things, but he could see that you were still thinking about it deep down. The both of you sat in the car, watching over the city lights while music quietly played on the radio. The orange sunset casted a hue over the world, shining brightly.

“I’m sorry I just can’t get it out of my head.” You pout, fiddling with your fingers. “I appreciate you doing this, Suguru.”

“Of course, y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He gave a half smile, caressing your back.

“It just keeps replaying over and over in my head,” you shut your eyes, “I hate it. Nothing takes my mind off of it no matter what!” You ran your hand over your face, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Well, there’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Geto raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Minutes later your knees are to your chest, the sheer force of his hips rocking your body into the seat of the car. Strands from his messy bun cling to his forehead, sweat dripping between the divots of his abs. His calloused hand presses down on your lower abdomen, the pad of his thumb reaching down to rub your neglected clit. “Sugu!” You cry out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

The car shakes with his feral and animalistic thrusts, the curve of his cock finding your sweet spot, knocking the breath out of you. You’re panting and gasping, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, his hand reaching out, slipping his fingers into your mouth to suck on. “Let it all go for me.” He moves at a rapid pace, your eyes rolling back and your body going limp, hands falling to your sides.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, his hands gliding down to your throat, fingers ghosting over your skin before he carefully wraps his hand around it, gripping it firmly. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. You want that, don’t you? Fill that pretty little head of yours with nothing else but me.” His sultry words send shivers down your spine. A devilish chuckle escapes from him when he feels you flutter around his throbbing length. “Nnngh,” he plants a wet kiss on your jaw, “cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming!” You scream, eyes widening at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Yes, yes!” You squeal, legs shaking as he continues to rub your clit, dragging every last bit of your orgasm out of you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass at a rough pace, threatening to spill his seed inside of you. “Want to mark you, show that asshole who you’ve always belonged to!” Sinful eyes stare back at you.

Fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m yours! I’m y-yours! Ahh!” He puts more pressure on your clit, your body jolting, squirming beneath him.

“Hah, fuck, baby!” He moans, jaw falling open as he tosses his head back. He clenches his jaw, grunting as he keeps the same fervent tempo. He watches the way your filthy pussy clings to him so tightly, your juices forming a ring at the base of his cock, creating a sticky, slimy mess. His thrusts grow hasty, hungry for his orgasm, itching to see you coated in his cum.

He bullies his cock into your cunt, snarling and moaning at how rapidly his orgasm was nearing. He pulled out of you with a drawn out moan and instinctively your soft hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until you felt warm cum drip onto your stomach.

[augustinewrites]

“do you not love me anymore?”

satoru’s (self-proclaimed) adorable pout is rendered ineffective when you refuse to look up from your work, typing away on your computer as his world absolutely crumbles.

“are you a worm?” you ask, wholly uninterested in his theatrics.

“no.”

“then of course i still love you.”

“then what the heck is this?!”

sighing, you finally lift your gaze to see your wallet open and laid out in front of you. “that’s what this is about?”

“you took my favourite picture of us out for megumi’s school photo!”

“that was not your favourite picture of us,” you argue. “you keep that in a locked folder on your phone.” 

(it’s your fault that he thinks of that photo now, having to utilise mental skills he’d learned during unnecessarily sexy sparring lessons in high school to will away the beginning of stiffness in his pants) 

“that’s not the point,” he says calmly, tapping a finger over megumi’s glaring face. “the point is that i’m losing top-billing in my girlfriend’s wallet to a snot-nosed brat with a crush.” 

“really? you’re competing with a seven year old?” 

“it’s not competing if i’m losing!”

“it’s puppy love, satoru,” you laugh, closing your wallet before he can see that his card is inside. “i don’t think he’s ever had someone - that wasn’t his sister - fussing over him.”

“no, he definitely has a crush on you,” your boyfriend insist, draping himself over your lap quite dramatically. “can we still disown him if the adoption papers haven’t gone through yet?”

“no one is disowning anyone,” you tell him, gently pushing back his bangs to plant a kiss on his forehead. “you’ll just have to learn to live with the competition.”

_____

you’re halfway through the show you’re watching when the front door swings open and satoru tumbles inside. “honey, i’m home! nanami almost killed me at the gym.”

“hey, there’s lunch in the fridge,” you call, eyes glued to the television. 

satoru, predictably, is unsatisfied with this. he grabs the mug that you’re holding and sets it on the coffee table, wrapping you in a sweaty hug and peppering your face with kisses. 

“let me love you!” he whines, his hair tickling your nose as he nuzzle his face into your neck.

“you can love me after you take a shower, cause you stink.” your tone is stern, but you can’t seem to fight the smile that grows on your face as he hugs you tighter. 

“this is all for your benefit,” he argues, finally releasing you just to pull the hem of his shirt up. you try to smother the heat rising to your face, but satoru notices, a self satisfied smirk on his lips as he pats his abs. “i’m letting nanami kill me at the gym for you.”

“you’re such a slut,” you mutter, wriggling out of his grasp and over to the opposite end of the couch. satoru relents, staying on his end as he recounts his (apparently) near-death experience at the gym.

it’s a few moments later when megumi saunters into the living room.

“megumi! come sit with me!”

the boy’s nose immediately wrinkles. “you stink.”

his full-force pout returns. “i do not!”

“do too.”

“do not—”

“do too,” megumi scoffs, plopping down next to you and resting his head against your arm. 

“so you’re gonna let him snuggle with you but not me? i’m tired and sore and—”

“and sweaty,” you finish. “go take a shower.” 

he glances down at the kid glued to your side, brows raised as he mouths, crush. 

you roll your eyes, thinking it wise to not engage in any banter in front of megumi. 

(but as your attention returns to the tv, what you don’t see is megumi’s own little smirk, directed right at satoru.

like father, like son.)

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

BLOODTHIRSTY

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: mature | WORD COUNT: 990

SUMMARY

when your next shipment of blood won’t be delivered to the x mansion for another two days, logan offers to help keep you fed.

part two, animal instinct

WARNINGS/TAGS

typical vampire themes (blood, biting), no use of y/n, reader being picked up, grinding, kissing

LINKS

masterlists | support for palestine

You're pacing the length of the kitchen, filled with anxious energy. There's a pit in your stomach, a gnawing pain that's keeping you awake and lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling wasn't helping.

You hear footsteps in the hall and pause, watching as the thick wooden door opens and Logan steps into the kitchen, flicking the light switch and bathing the room in brightness that hurts your eyes. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you.

"Can't sleep either?" he asks, sauntering further into the room. He's fully dressed, a tight white t-shirt stretching across his defined chest and biceps and a pair of jeans hugging his legs, covering boots that click against the tile with each step. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his neck, to the thin skin that covers his fluttering pulse, but you look away quickly in shame.

"Too hungry," you reply. He looks around the room.

"Well, you're in the right place for eating. There's plenty of food."

"Not the kind I need."

He tilts his head, assessing you. "You some kind of vampire or something?"

"Or something," you reply, dancing around the truth. You're not sure what you are, not exactly, but Charles has helped you unlock enough information to get by. "Anyway, Charles said the next shipment should be here in a couple days. I just have to make it until then."

"I could help you out," Logan suggests. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Absolutely not," you snap. You move to leave, walking past him, but he wraps a hand around your arm to stop you.

"Why not? You can't kill me. You won't even leave a mark."

"You don't know what you're offering, Logan."

"I got a pretty good idea," he says with a huff of laughter. "You're a predator. I know what it's like to suppress that side of yourself."

You don't know much about Logan. He hasn't been at the X Mansion for very long, but he's made quite the impression among the staff. You can see why -- he's charming, handsome, rough around the edges. You know of his abilities but you don't know him, not really, and the fact that he's offering himself for your hunger is planting nasty seeds of suspicion in your brain.

"I can't," you whisper. He steps closer.

"Why not? Afraid you'll get addicted, sweetheart?"

He's goading you, tempting you. Your gums ache with the need to bite, to feed, to fill yourself full and find sweet relief from the pain of hunger. He pulls you closer and your treacherous body obeys, ignoring the warnings from your logical brain.

"Come on," he says. "You'll feel better."

It's been a long time since you've fed from a living person, having grown so used to the donor blood Charles is able to obtain for you through various channels, but the muscle memory is there.

You're chest to chest with Logan now, pressed so tightly to him that you can feel his heart pounding against you, can hear the rush of blood in his veins. He smells like the woods and smoke, an earthy combination that makes you a little lightheaded. He wraps an arm around your waist.

"You want it?" he asks. You nod. "Do it, then. I've got you."

You're helpless to it now, nothing in your mind except survival instinct demanding to be fulfilled. The prick of pain as your mouth grows crowded with longer, sharper teeth meant to tear and ravage and maim. You lean into him, running your lips against warm skin and relishing in the sharp breath he takes at the contact.

Like any predator, you give no warning, sinking your teeth into his flesh. Blood rushes over your tongue, warm and lush, invading your senses. His heavy palm settles on the back of your neck, cradling you to him, and the intimacy of it pulls a moan from deep in your chest.

"Fuck," Logan growls, his other hand tight on your hip. You lift your head to ask if he's okay, but the words are lost when he bends his knees and grabs the back of your thighs with both hands, urging you up. He settles you on the counter, fitting himself between your spread legs.

"Again," he demands, eyes wild and teeth bared in a snarl. You switch to the other side of his neck, biting down hard. He moans, loud and deep, hips flexing into yours. You can feel the hard length of his cock through his jeans and the friction against your core makes you whine and writhe against him.

You drag yourself away from him, licking your lips. His pupils are blown wide, the black of them nearly engulfing the gorgeous hazel of his irises. His gaze drops to your lips and he leans in, kissing you like a hungry animal, trying to devour you in turn.

He pulls away from you, begins to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck. You grow tense, the sudden realization that Logan's favor has devolved into something more hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You push him away by the shoulder and he stares at you with a furrowed brow, confusion coloring his features. His chest heaves with breath and his mouth is stained red, lips kiss bitten and slick. The wounds you would have left behind have already closed, leaving no trace of you on his skin. You swallow around the lump in your throat.

"Thank you, Logan," you whisper. You ease yourself down from the counter, the man stepping back slightly to give you space. "Goodnight."

He clears his throat. "Right. Hope you can sleep now."

"I hope you can, too."

You leave the kitchen, the weight of his stare on your back not lifting until you're in the hall and can take a deep breath. When you return to your room, you still can't sleep.

But it's no longer because of hunger.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting, I’d love to hear from you 💕

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

All masterlists

Logan Howlett masterlist

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[kithtaehyung]

minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

-

-

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. 

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck. 

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change. 

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline. 

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.” 

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.” 

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut. 

Fuck. Yoongi’s right. 

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.” 

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls, 

“Not interested.” 

Oh. He’s… 

Oh. 

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial? 

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie. 

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.” 

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core. 

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom. 

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not. 

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room. 

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on? 

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here. 

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot. 

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light. 

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish. 

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use. 

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld. 

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead. 

Uhh. 

What. 

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin. 

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air. 

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done. 

Almost. 

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing. 

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state? 

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.” 

Again with that little slant. 

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life. 

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl. 

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded. 

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved? 

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right… 

Doesn’t matter. 

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.  

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck. 

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright. 

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet. 

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still. 

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut. 

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.” 

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.” 

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel. 

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.” 

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.” 

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them. 

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer. 

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so. 

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside. 

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.  

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your— 

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!” 

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.” 

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for? 

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette. 

And just like that, the conversation dies. 

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible. 

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead. 

Your noodles.

Your noodles. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill. 

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand. 

A robed arm. 

Your new utensils come back into view. 

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there. 

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes, 

“Eat.” 

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain? 

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.” 

“You are.” 

“Not anymore.” 

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.” 

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.” 

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.” 

“I literally can’t—” 

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.” 

“What?” 

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight. 

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.” 

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.” 

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.” 

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin. 

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.” 

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier. 

Yoongi looks pissed as hell. 

But he hasn’t moved. 

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again. 

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today. 

Fuck, you wanna hurl. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair. 

“It’s better in the long run.” 

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this. 

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes. 

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.  

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too. 

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers. 

“What were you looking for.” 

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth. 

“Did you find it.” 

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?” 

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.” 

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?” 

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought. 

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.” 

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.” 

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion. 

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl. 

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat. 

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure. 

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out. 

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home. 

Yearning pierces right through your chest. 

The elevator is right over there. 

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No. 

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too. 

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase. 

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep. 

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety. 

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room. 

And your defense mechanism blares. 

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why? 

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too? 

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay? 

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.” 

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?” 

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.” 

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.” 

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes. 

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.” 

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms. 

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest. 

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs. 

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.” 

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.” 

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine. 

Well. 

So much for leaving. 

You may spend more time here than you thought. 

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call. 

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that. 

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now. 

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space. 

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere. 

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator. 

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area. 

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet. 

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below. 

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out. 

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart. 

That was so long ago. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time. 

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem. 

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm. 

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some. 

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter. 

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.” 

“Do you even drink?” 

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying. 

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?” 

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.” 

“It’s usually silent, too.” 

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.” 

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.” 

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”  

He takes the offered can. “Mm.” 

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present. 

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs. 

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day. 

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?” 

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”  

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.” 

Your look carries a slight pang. 

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.” 

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see. 

But when it’s open, you freeze. 

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New. 

Wait. 

These patterns. 

These are il-don? 

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless. 

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.” 

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?” 

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.” 

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?” 

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.” 

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter. 

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.” 

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?” 

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?” 

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?” 

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.” 

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.” 

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself. 

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear, 

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…” 

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.” 

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now? 

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.” 

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away. 

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose, 

“I should’ve left you for dead.” 

Wait. 

Stop. 

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever. 

And it is frightening. 

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.” 

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist. 

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.  

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.” 

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually. 

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you. 

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power? 

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk. 

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can. 

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it. 

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.” 

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged. 

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes, 

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.” 

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning. 

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it. 

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same. 

So you quell that monster pacing in your core. 

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be. 

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.” 

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin. 

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.” 

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend, 

“This world has already tried enough.” 

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again. 

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn. 

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it. 

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more. 

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else. 

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations. 

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.” 

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip. 

And you freeze. 

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate. 

But fuck, you kinda want to. 

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed. 

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…” 

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to. 

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.” 

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest, 

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong? 

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore. 

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.” 

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone. 

Oh. You’re going home. 

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short. 

What was that? What was any of that? 

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over. 

…But do you want it to be? 

Yes. 

Of course you do. 

Clouds let moonlight shine again. 

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real. 

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane. 

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging. 

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out. 

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed? 

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets. 

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes. 

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams. 

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own. 

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion. 

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air. 

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out. 

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too? 

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness. 

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start. 

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do. 

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows. 

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity. 

For nothing. 

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all. 

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal. 

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder. 

Fuck everything. 

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.” 

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares. 

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

—

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a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎.' ༄࿔ L.K.

⤷ Dubcon/Noncon | Knife Play | Spanking

♱ word count: 2.3k

♱ warnings: this has darker content!! dont like? dont interact: dubcon/noncon, fem!reader, ghostface!minho, reader switches up during the ending but during the smut minho has control, knife play (1 small nick and he carves his name into readers back but its shallow), light mentions of blood, spanking, p in v with no prep or condom (be safe about this irl pls), open ending?

♱ notes: this was so self indulgent because im slowly becoming obsessed with slashers again 🥴

not properly proofread! i will go through it later in the day after i sleep <3

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The cabin you were staying at was eerily silent as you sat in the dimly lit living room. It was a rental that you had planned to stay at for a week to spend your vacation off of work and it was absolutely beautiful during the day. Though, the forest surrounding it combined with the knowledge of just how far the nearest area with people made for a rather scary experience during the night time.

Part of you was on edge as you made your way past the floor-to-ceiling windows towards the kitchen and chills ran up your spine as you stared out those same windows only to be met with complete darkness. Not even the moon was enough to cast light on the tall trees.

‘Maybe a glass of water will help.’ You had been tossing and turning in bed for hours before you gave up and settled in the living room, only to discover that there was no signal on the TV. You were lucky to have even 1 bar as you opened your phone to check the time; 2:46 AM.

It wasn’t a horrible time to be awake, but the promise of sleep would have helped with the paranoid itching in the back of your head. Anybody could break in and nobody wouldn’t know until it was too late. And even if you knew, you were a long way from any means of help-

A sudden creak in the floorboards catches your attention. Your neck snapped towards the dark hallway, then again to the huge windows as your heart raced. The Airbnb host stated that it’s an old house so it’s known to make many noises, so ‘It was probably nothing’. You repeated this to yourself over and over again as you chugged the rest of your water and turned to clean the glass, hoping the distraction would help with the anxiety.

But just as your hand wraps around the tap handle, another creak is heard and a hand wraps around your mouth. Another slides around your front and pushes a long kitchen knife against your neck. The intruder uses his whole body to roughly push you into the counter and your heart drops as you let out a scream in surprise.

The feeling of the cold counter is almost soothing as his deep, nearly robotic, voice meets your ears. “Haven’t seen you around here before… If I take my hand off your mouth, you won’t make me angry and scream for help, right?” He slides the knife along your neck, nicking the skin there slightly as a warning.

Your lack of a response makes him chuckle and he traces the tip of the knife along your cheek, “It’s not like anybody will hear you anyway, but I wouldn’t want this pretty face to get hurt. So what do you say?” You nod as best as you can in this position and let out a quiet sob when his palm releases your face.

“P-Please…Don’t kill me.” Your plea comes out in a quiet whisper, hoping the hushed voice won’t upset your attacker. If it does, he doesn’t let it be seen in the slightest.

“Shhhhh” He tuts at you and rolls his hips forward, rubbing his hard-on against your ass and forcing your hips farther into the countertop. The pinching of your skin between your bone and the marble top makes you hiss in pain, but he ignores you and rubs your hip with his now free hand.

“Let’s play a game~” He doesn’t give you time to respond before he flips you around, wrapping a hand around your neck as he roughly pins you to the counter again.

You’re finally met with his face- or what would be his face, but is instead a long, white ghost mask that would be comical if you didn’t notice the feeling of a drop of blood running down your neck from where he nicked you.

“I’m a little stressed out, so I’m gonna fuck this sweet cunt of yours. If you play nice, I’ll let you live. But if you act like a bitch, I'll kill you!”

The joyful tone in his voice causes your skin to crawl and you let out a quiet sob of fear at the deadly ultimatum. Your choices are quite slim, and you can’t deny the ache that’s starting between your legs, so you don’t take long to nod in agreement.

“Mmmm… Smart girl. Let’s get this off of you then, yeah?” He tugs at your pajama shorts and finally moves the knife off your skin, giving you just enough leeway to move around and pull your shorts down. Once they’re far enough down your legs to drop to your ankles on their own, the unknown man behind you spins you around and immediately pulls your shirt up and over your head.

He sighs almost dreamily against the mask and you watch his head tilt down as he takes in your naked torso. You can feel his stare on you for a while longer until his head tilts further and he’s met with the sight of your pretty panties- the ones that are keeping him from his “prize.”

He curses under his breath and snakes his empty hand to the back of your neck. He grasps you tightly and uses his grip there to lead you to the huge windows, pushing you against them roughly.

“What a pretty piece of ass you got here, baby.” The hand on your neck moves down in favor of grabbing a handful of your ass cheek, landing a teasing slap there as he finishes his sentences. “Might have to go home with you- make you my little pet.” You moan both at the implication of him following you home as well as the delicious sting on your ass.

The masked man chuckles darkly and lands a harsher slap on your other ass cheek. “Call me crazy but I think you like that idea. Hmmmm? Wanna be my little kitty- my little toy for me to fuck whenever I feel like it?” You were starting to get too comfortable, and he seems to realize it. So he brings you back right to where he wants you by sliding his free hand around to your tummy. 

The occupied hand runs the sharp side of the knife around your back, leaving shallow lines that you can’t quite make out. But none of that matters. Not when he’s sliding his hand into your panties, rubbing his gloved fingertip through your soaked folds.

You’re almost thankful that he can’t tell through the gloves, but the stinging pain of the knife almost carving into your skin is diverting your attention from the rough circles on your clit. Thankfully, though, he finishes his “design” faster than you thought he would.

The feeling of a thick finger entering you grabs your attention, making you moan loudly and buck your hips against his hand. A muffled laugh is heard through the mask and his voice is husky as he speaks again, “Gonna be good for me and let me fuck this pretty pussy now, yeah?”

You don't respond right away and he pulls his finger out of you, pinching your clit meanly. “I asked you a question.” His partially wet glove comes down harshly on your ass and leaves a red mark in its wake.

You let out a squeak at the pain and apologize profusely before responding to him. “Y-Yes!”

“Good girl. You almost lost the game there, baby.” He laughs to himself and you watch in the reflection of the glass as he brings the knife down between your thighs. Part of you is horrified at what he might try, and the other part is rather aroused at the possibilities that run through your head.

But he shuts them all down when he slides the dull side against your thigh and leads it to your underwear. He runs his hand along your spine and leans you forward, pushing your ass out for him as the knife dips into your underwear- dull side up.

With this he slices downwards in one swoop, slicing your panties and causing you to gasp in surprise. You can almost hear the smile on his face as he shushes you and slices one of the sides next.

Your arms shake as they rest against the cold glass of the window and you sit there helplessly as he rids you of the ruined fabric. Once you’re left completely bare, he whistles in satisfaction and leans back.

His hand squeezes your ass cheek appreciatively as the hand with the knife rests at your hip, itching to touch you as well but knowing better than to let his guard down so easily. No matter how well-behaved you've been for him so far.

“Such a pretty thing. I really should keep you to myself.” He hums and bites down on your ear. You hear the knife get tossed beside you onto the wood floor before one of his hands slides into your hair, tangling with the strands there and tugging your neck backward. 

All of a sudden the sound of metal hitting wood meets your ears and you see the knife lying on the floor, a couple of feet from where you two stand. Then his hands are removed from you for mere seconds as he hooks his thumbs into his pants and pushes down, hurriedly shoving his boxers down alongside his jeans.

The sound of his jeans hitting the floor makes your thighs clench and he takes notice immediately. He coos from behind you and you can almost hear the smile on his face through the mask as he slides himself through your folds a few times, teasing you and testing how far gone he’s got you.

Your desperate grinding gives him the only answer he needs and he finally pushes in, groaning at the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him.

“Shit… You feel so good.” The cool plastic of the ghost mask meets your shoulder as he lays his forehead down against it.

You can’t hold back the whine that builds in the back of your throat and your nails scratch into the glass as much as they physically can as he starts to move already.

“P-Please…” You’re not so sure what you’re asking for. Maybe it was mercy. Or maybe, just maybe, all those months of research about some local town's serial killer were finally paying off.

But who needs to know that? The man behind you is completely oblivious as he pulls his hips back just to drive them back into you. You barely remember it yourself from the way his tip, thick and pulsing, rams into your G-spot.

So much so that you can feel your orgasm sneaking up so much sooner than it usually would. It eventually wracks through your body like a train as the hand in your hair tightens, holding you close to him as he slows his hips to a slow grind.

“Fffuck.. Tight little cunt, baby. But I’m not done just yet.” He picks up his pace once more and uses his free hand to caress your hips, squeezing the flesh there appreciatively before landing a slap against the same area.

He soothes it with another rub, though short-lived before his hand finds its home on your ass cheek. There he lands a series of slaps paired with his muffled moans as you clench around him incessantly.

The hand in your hair finally releases its grip only to find another on the back of your throat again. He uses this one to hold you in place, keeping your cheek pressed flush against the window as he fucks into you with no care.

He continues to use you like his personal fleshlight as he grunts behind you, legs shaking from his oncoming release. The same release that is left deep in your walls, swimming around before dripping out onto your abused folds.

You both moan in unison as you cum around him again, whining at the sharp thrusts that were meant to fuck his seed further into you.

He finally pulls out once your cunt is done milking him and he pulls out a phone from his jeans, snapping a quick photo with flash on before laughing to himself behind his mask.

While he’s occupied with his delusions, you decide it’s time to make your move. 

You push his chest lightly and watch as he collapses onto the couch, head tilted up at you in amusement while his arms settle on the back cushions.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep and breathy, it goes straight between your thighs and you almost moan at simply hearing him like that as well as the confident stance he’s taken. But you have a mission on your mind.

One that includes rushing to pick up the knife from the floor and not giving him a chance to respond before you’re straddling his thick thighs and pressing the knife to his throat.

His arms stay in place on the cushions and he huffs out a laugh in pure amusement, waiting patiently for you to make your next move.

What he didn’t expect was the grinding of your now leaking cunt on his now hardening cock. He moans lowly at the feeling and goes to rest a hand on your hip, only to be met with your hand slapping it away and the other digging the knife into the skin of his neck. Karma.

“I won your game fair and square. So let’s play my game.” Your hand reaches up under the mask and tears it off his face. 

He’s not sure why a potential survivor seeing his face doesn’t worry him. But when his tip catches onto your clit and you hold the knife steady against his neck, he thinks he’s just fallen in love.

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[worldsover]

An Unusual Coverage ft. Heejin

6.8k words

Your girlfriend Heejin is DONE with not using condoms—wait a second... not?

Heejin’s lips on yours mean this is a good day, even if there’s a pout on them that you can taste. She had a bad day at work so that one kiss to cheer her up leads to two cups of lukewarm tea on the coffee table before you. You run your hands over her bared waist, tank top riding up her torso, as her body rubs up against you. Between deep kisses where Heejin’s tongue swirls against yours, and the wet spot growing on her panties, you think you know where this is going.

After pulling away when her teeth sink into your bottom lip, you say, "Needy girl. I know what’ll make you feel better, a load inside you."

But how can you predict Heejin? She hesitates; you've never seen that. "Y-you’re right, it does… but that’s not what I want right now."

Perplexed, you pause your ministrations, hands stilling on her waist. "You don’t?"

Heejin's eyes widen and she rushes to reassure you. "No, no, I do, I do." Soft kisses. "You know what a cum slut I am, Daddy. Come here, let me feel you. Mmh." This kiss isn’t as soft, not when her hand goes for your hardening bulge.

You kiss her back hungrily, your desire reigniting, but pull back when she still seems hesitant. "But what?"

"Another time..." Heejin looks away shyly. This is the cutest girl on earth, you reckon, but dishonest, not so shy when her digits are still pants-bound.

You give a singular laugh-scoff. "Really? I'm just surprised, you've never turned down a creampie before."

She sighs. "You're gonna harp on this? Alright, I get it." Heejin sits up straight, patting her thighs. "Sit up, let me get on my favorite seat."

You smile as you comply, shifting positions so she can straddle you properly. Heejin cups your face. "I want your cum," she says, her voice dropping to a needy whisper. "Of course I want your cum."

Whatever the conversation was, is, or will be, your hands are directed towards her tits by natural intervention, taking inventory and stock of the perfect perky shape over the thin fabric of her top.

"God, squeeze my tits, yes, they’re yours, play with them. Fuck, what was I saying?" Her moans become more and more wanton as you knead and tease her nipples. "Mm, right, your cum. You give me so much of it. It’s so hot, three, four loads every time we fuck—"

"Yeah, you’re fucking Heejin, have you looked in a mirror? I could give you the world."

"No, you’re the one fucking Neejinie,” she says, laughing, and you laugh too, giving her a peck on the forehead as her head falls into your neck. "You’re the sweetest, Daddy." She looks back up, steeling herself into something serious, even when it’s never that serious. "But… I need more cum."

You raise an eyebrow. "So you wanna kill me then."

"A little bit." She giggles. "I just... I want to be absolutely filthy with your cum. Utterly covered and filled by it until I'm dripping everywhere. All my holes, every inch of my skin." Heejin leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I want you to make me look like a used cum rag, while I fingerfuck your seed into my pussy."

Your mouth goes dry at Heejin's filthy words, cock straining against your pants. "Need it that bad?" you rasp.

"Mhm, that bad." Heejin purrs. She leans back and rummages in her purse, pulling out a strip of condoms with a sly grin.

"Condoms?" Haven't used those in a long time.

"Yes, Daddy,” she says, her face all serious again. "Pants off. Now."

You quickly comply, shucking off your pants and boxers as Heejin strips out of her clothes. There’s always going to be a little drool, a little open jaw when you witness her adorable tits ever so slightly recoiling as she tugs off her tanktop, or witness her underwear ever so slightly sticking to her pussy as she slides them down her legs, or witness the overall damn-near hourglass figure of the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes upon.

Now on her knees, Heejin tears open a condom wrapper with her teeth, and she's still an expert at rolling it down your shaft with her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks you. Electric pleasure zings through you as she takes extracurricular kittenish licks, slathering her saliva and tongue all over your latex-covered cock. It's a surprisingly colorful blue. When she pulls off with a pop, a string of spit connects her lips to the tip.

"You remember how to do that?"

She huffs indignantly. "Yeah, Daddy, I think I’ve had more than enough practice with your pretty cock." Heejin gives it a few pecks, eyes filled with love, then starts suckling on the tip. Before you can stop her, her head is bobbing up and down your length.

Your hands tangle in Heejin's hair as she works your cock, her tongue swirling expertly around the latex-covered shaft. With a groan, you gently pull her off before things escalate too quickly. "Easy there, needy girl," you tease. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you?"

"Huh? Oh." Heejin blushes, realizing she got carried away worshipping your cock as she is wont to do. "Right. Y-you should do that. Fuck me. Now."

With your fingers still in her hair, you get up and guide Heejin to lie back on the couch. While you can appreciate every position—doggystyle lets you spank Heejin’s round ass; cowgirl turns her an insatiable wildcat riding you with abandon—there’s something intimate about missionary, the way you can watch expressions flicker across her face. As you position above her, her arms wrap around your neck and pull you in the way that every component of Heejin feels like an inescapable event horizon. Her eyes are glassy with lust, yet there's a sincerity in them that roots you to the moment more than any physical sensation ever could.

"Make me forget everything, Daddy," she murmurs. "Fuck the thoughts out of my head. I only wanna think about your cock."

"With pleasure," you murmur, kissing her deeply. Your cock slides easily between her folds; the girl is always ready for you. "You’re so fucking wet. What an eager slut."

"F-for your cock," Heejin gasps as you push in, her pussy squeezing tight around your shaft, and the condom isn't doing much for your stamina with how good this girl feels around you, a feeling that you've missed ever since she let you raw-dog. "God, it's so fucking big, it always stretches me out so good," she babbles. As much as you love the deep sound of her voice, her talking dirty like that will expedite the moment too much for you, so you kiss her to shut her up. It doesn’t work.

Heejin moans into the kiss, wrapping her arms around you and holding you close, her body moving in time with yours. "So perfect, Daddy, so perfect. Promise me, promise me that from now on every time you get hard for me, you'll fuck one of my holes and give me your cum."

You don't understand how you'll do that with a condom. But, "I promise," you reply, breathless, and Heejin rewards you by pulling you in for another hungry kiss."I'll give you my cum whenever, wherever you want it."

"Good," she says, your cock sliding in and out. "Let's use condoms from now on, okay?"

You pull back. "What? I thought you liked it better when I fill you up, baby? You've always been such a cum hungry slut." Your hands roam down to her tits and play with her sensitive nipples, making Heejin gasp and arch her back.

"Nngh, I'm still going to collect your cum, Daddy."

You stop entirely, even though Heejin bucks her hips to grind on you. "What?"

She giggles. "I want you to fuck me, fill up the condom, then toss it onto me." The image that forms in your head makes you dizzy. "Is it just me, or does that turn you on?"

"God," you groan, snapping back into motion. "That's pretty tempting."

"Good." Heejin moans, holding onto your arm as you ram into her. "Anywhere, my tits, my ass, my thighs, my face. Like I'm just your cum dumpster"

You're pounding her hard, now, the couch creaking in protest. Your hand's in her hair. Your hand's around her neck. Your hand's groping her tits. You're a fucking caveman, who needs to feel every part of Heejin, every part of this woman who loves you so much that she'll let you treat her like a filthy cum rag.

"Please, Daddy," she begs, her voice rising to a high pitch. "I'm close. Cum in me. Fill me up with your cum." You can tell she’s close, her walls convulsing around your shaft, her eyes glazed over, her hands gripping the couch cushions for dear life.

"I'm gonna cum," you growl, fucking her harder and faster, the tip of your cock kissing her cervix. "I'm gonna fill you up."

The condom does little to dull the sensations of her tight pussy squeezing around you as she cums, and it's only a matter of time until you cum after, filling the condom to the brim. As you gingerly unsheathe your shaft, Heejin's hand darts out and snaps it off your cock, and she giggles at the weight of it and tosses it between her tits; it looks like it's meant to be there as if all the lingerie in the world could never compare to the sight of a well-filled condom. You lean down and kiss Heejin, your hand stroking her face tenderly.

"Fuck, I love you," you breathe.

"I love you too," she replies, and Heejin's smile is more innocent than anything you've seen today. Reaching for your shaft, she teases, "You have another load to give me, right?"

"Always," you growl, and after she fits another condom over your cock (you note this one's red), you plunge inside, and Heejin's moans fill the air once more. As you pound into Heejin's tight pussy, the filled condom on her tits starts leaking and dribbling down her body, coating her skin with your thick cream, and the sight of her covered in your cum is so hot you can't help but fuck her even harder. Heejin is incoherent, babbling nonsense, and you kiss her neck as you whisper, "You're so hot, Heejin."

"Your cum, your cum," Heejin chants, her hands groping at your back, her hips grinding up into yours. "Give me, give me. Use me. Use my pussy." She's drooling now, eyes rolled back, and you're not far from it either.

This round is shorter, and the two of you are too busy kissing to notice you've reached your limit until you're cumming into the condom, and you both gasp in surprise. You pull out, and Heejin's eyes glint with the same mischief as you hear the snapping sound. Then, the condom is tossed onto her stomach, and she sighs happily at her burgeoning collection.

You kiss and caress each other for a few minutes. "That was amazing," you finally say, your thumb brushing Heejin's cheek.

She looks beautiful, her face flushed and her hair messy. Two used condoms adorn her body like trophies; she ties off both of them.

"Wow. You like it that much, huh?" You chuckle. You've never had a girl this kinky, and it's a good thing that she's your one and only.

"Of course I do. That wasn't just dirty talk, silly," she laughs. "You should go to bed, Daddy. You'll be busy tomorrow, what with all the condoms you'll be filling for me."

***

"That was a crazy night, wasn't it?" you say, as you and Heejin walk to the car.

"Hah! Yeah, it was," Heejin giggles, squeezing your hand. You've been dating for three years, now, but you still blush when you hold hands with her. She's just too cute. "It was fun, though."

"Definitely." You unlock the car, and Heejin hops in the passenger seat.

As you slide in, Heejin says, "I'm so glad I got to try that out. But anyway...." Her tone sounds like she’s dropping the subject, so you move on.

You're in her workplace's parking lot, opening the door for her. "Hopefully, work's better."

She steps out of the car, and you swiftly give her a cheeky cheek kiss. "Thank you." While getting out, she drops her purse on the floor.

"Whoa, careful." You laugh, reaching down to get her purse.

When you get up, you notice her panties hanging on the strap. Two cum-filled condoms are tied off and dangling from the band, swaying in the breeze.

You blink. "Uh... Heejin?"

She smirks. "I told you. It wasn't just dirty talk."

***

This is the second time you've seen the women's bathroom inside Heejin's workplace. The first, of course, is when you railed Heejin over the sink and added three new trophies (as she calls them). You can tell she's put a lot of thought into this, each new condom a new color. It's starting to become a cream-filled rainbow. The second time is in these pictures, of her touching herself inside a stall, filthy jewelry around her waist, and it's making the grueling late night at your own office a little bit more exciting. The last picture of her pussy is dripping with her wetness and your seed; she texted to tell you that she couldn't help herself from opening a condom and using the cum to lube herself as she masturbated. "I couldn't help myself. I needed to get more of your seed inside me, Daddy."

"Stop teasing," you text back. "Or I'm gonna end up having to jack off at work, and only horny weirdos jack off at work."

"Hey! Meanie!" Her reply comes instantly. "But you're right. Don't waste a drop, or I'll be disappointed. I want as many loads as possible."

You sigh and go back to work, the ache in your cock making it difficult to focus.

After an hour and re-sobered mind, a knock on your office door. You sigh. You thought you were the last person left here, and you don't want any more tasks to do.

Your smile when you open the door. "Baby?"

Heejin's standing outside, holding two takeout boxes and looking at you with those big eyes of hers. She's in her work clothes, and while her blouse is not as revealing as the tanktop she'd worn yesterday, her skirt still does wonders for her legs. Of course, you know what's underneath the skirt, and your cock twitches. Down boy. Heejin's carrying food, and she'll get upset if you don't let her feed you. "Hi! I got us some food. I figured you might not have eaten, so..."

"How can I love you anymore than I already do?" You laugh, taking the food from her and setting it down on the table. "I was just about to wrap up, actually, so we can eat together. Come in, come in."

Heejin smiles sweetly, stepping past the threshold, and shutting the door. "Actually, I have another surprise for you, first." Her voice is low and sultry.

"Of course. You and your ulterior motives." You raise your eyebrows, and Heejin laughs.

"Guilty," she giggles, stepping closer and closer to you until she can wrap her arms around your neck. "You know what I want, don't you?"

You chuckle. "I'd be an idiot if I didn't."

"Did you know..." She pulls out one of the condoms from under her skirt. "I kept this one in my purse for emergencies? And whenever I miss you, and miss your cock, I just pick it up and..." She leans in, whispering in your ear. "I suck on it. I can still taste your cum and my juices from last night."

"You're so fucking dirty." You kiss her hard, pushing her against the wall. Her lips mold to yours as if they were made to, her tongue swirling against yours, and her teeth nibbling your lower lip.

"God, you're so hard," she whispers. "Lucky you have a slut right here to take care of it."

You pull back, and Heejin smirks at you, her fingers trailing down your chest to the bulge in your pants. She presses her palm against your cock, rubbing it, and you groan. She smiles wider.

"You still have work to do," she says. "Why don't you sit back down and finish up?"

"Tease," you mutter. Heejin laughs, and she kisses your forehead before pushing you back down into your chair. You look back at her expectantly and she just stares at you. "Really? You can wait."

"Mmm." Heejin motions toward your computer. "I'll be fine."

You shake your head. "Alright. If you say so." Trying your best to clear your mind of the gorgeous girl in front of you, you turn back to your computer and start to type.

It takes you a few minutes to focus, and just when you're getting in the groove of things, you feel Heejin's hand on your thigh. You look down, and she's kneeling in between your legs, looking up at you with her big brown eyes, her hand on your thigh inching upward. There it is. You knew this girl couldn't hold back. "I've been thinking," she purrs.

You gulp. "About?"

Her hand reaches your belt, and her fingers deftly undo the buckle. "About sucking you off under this desk, since I am your cum whore," she says matter-of-factly, as if she's discussing the weather.

"Yeah, you are." You lean back and place your hands behind your head, but then Heejin tuts at you.

"Daddy, you should really focus on your work."

You laugh, but comply, returning your attention to the screen. "Okay, okay. Do whatever you want."

Heejin unzips your pants and pulls your cock out of the slit of your boxers, and you can feel the ghost of her breath against your skin, making it twitch. "You're already so hard," she says. The temptation to touch her, to stroke her hair, to grab each side of her head and skull fuck her ethereal face, is overwhelming. "It's already leaking and everything. I'm going to miss feeling how your cum fills my throat. But... I'll make do."

Heejin is the devil, pretending she's an angel while saying that, licking that leaking cockhead. She pulls out another fresh condom from her bag; tearing it open, it’s a pretty green color. You try to keep your composure as Heejin rolls the green condom onto your cock with her mouth, slow, steady, torturous. The devil, already killing you, is trying to send you to heavenly hell. When the condom is snug on your shaft, she gags as she goes another inch deeper, and your cock throbs and you almost lose it right then and there. But she pulls back before that, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Get back to work, Daddy," she says when she notices you staring (because of course, you're staring), "or else I'm edging you all night. Then again, if that means this one's going to be even more full than usual, I wouldn't mind." She winks, her hand stroking the rubber encasing your shaft, and you shudder, but return to typing, even though you're sure the email you're writing is a ChatGPT-esque mess of gibberish.

You're trying your hardest to get this fucking work done, but it's impossible. The condom can't hide the warmth, the softness of her tongue, the way her cheeks hollow as she sucks you off, her head bobbing up and down on your lap. When her lips stretched around your girth hit the root of your shaft, the tip poking the entrance of her throat, you can see her eyes watering, but she doesn't gag this time, only sucks, and sucks, and sucks. Heejin's hand reaches around your waist and squeezes your ass, and you have to bite back a moan as she fondles your cheek. Your fingers are hovering over the keyboard. You haven't typed anything in the last three minutes.

Heejin giggles, her hand coming back to cup your balls, massaging them in rhythm to her bobbing. Each bounce of her head comes with more and more sticky throat slime coating the latex. Your hips are asking to move, like this blowjob could be misconstrued as anything but throatfucking at this point, Heejin actively pushing herself down and up your shaft.

When she needs a break, and lord knows you need it equally bad, Heejin's tongue swirls around your ballsack, licks up the length, and then swirls around your cockhead. "You're doing so well, Daddy," she says. A long smooch here at the tip, where you can see a decent amount of pre in the green rubber. Her hand strokes your length, the latex sheathe creating a smooth glide. "You're gonna give me a nice big load, aren't you?" Heejin kisses the tip again, then places her tongue flat against your shaft and laps at it, like she's trying to clean off your precum through the rubber.

You let out a choked gasp. "Y-yes. Of course. Just—"

You're panting, you can feel your orgasm coming to a boil. Heejin seems to know it because she wraps her lips around the tip of your cock and starts suckling on it.

This knock on the door makes your heart drop. You can pretend you're not here, but then you're certain whoever it is will just barge in.

Heejin's lips don't even waver; if anything, her mouth is working faster, trying to get you to cum. "Come in," Heejin calls out cheerily, her voice slightly muffled. Your eyes bug out, and you're about to push her off, but she takes you down to the base again.

"Is that Heejin?" your Haseul asks. "Let me come in and say hi!" She opens the door and frowns slightly. "Oh, where is she?"

"Th-that was a phone call." You're sweating. You're shaking. You're trying not to cum in your boss' boss' presence. "She's heading out, actually. Just hung up." You're hoping to whatever god that Haseul doesn't step around the table and see a beautiful, slutty head bobbing on your lap. "Did you need something?"

You're getting closer, and the only sign of Heejin's acknowledgment of this precarious situation is a giggle that reverberates around your cock, and you're going to cum.

"Oh, she's a funny girl. It sounded like she was talking with her mouth full." Haseul laughs.

"Yeah, that's Heejin." God, your orgasm's cresting. You need to cum. "Hah, I guess you can say that."

"Hey, are you okay?" Haseul asks.

You grab Heejin's hair to stop her, but she just hollows her cheeks and continues suckling. "Yep. Great. Great as a late night can be."

"Totally. In the same boat. Well, I don't wanna take up too much of your time..."

So that means for the next ten minutes, you're listening to Haseul drone on while you're on edge. This is the worst edging session of your life, but the only thing you can do is pray that you can get through this alive. Unable to hold off the horny little devil sucking on your shaft, Heejin restarts the momentum of the blowjob. If Haseul sees the slight bobbing, she doesn't mention it. Maybe this is where being known for being restless is good. Heejin's mouth feels like it's sucking your soul straight out of your dick. It's all too much. You're going to cum, you're going to cum, you're going to cum.

"You sure you okay?" Haseul steps closer. Every single part of your body is screaming to..."You look like you're about to explode. Did I do something? I'm sorry if—"

"No, no, no, Haseul!" You wave your hands wildly. "You didn't do anything! I'm just a little sick!" You give a performative cough."I shouldn't have come to the office! I should've just stayed home, and—"

"Hey, I get it. We all do crazy things for the grind. You're a real trooper." Reaching over the desk, her hand rests on your shoulder, and you shiver, not in pleasure, not in fear, but in pure shock that Heejin hasn't stopped sucking you. You can feel the condom straining to contain your load. "You should go home. I'm sure they can finish it tomorrow."

"I'm fine!" you croak. You're not fine.

Haseul laughs, but she gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, and you tense up, worried that Heejin is going to gag, or Haseul will look down, and then it's game over. "I'll take care of it," she says. "You need to go home, rest. I'm not asking." Her eyes are kind. "I'm sure Heejin would want you to. You're a good man."

There's someone else not asking. And she's on her knees, taking, and you brace against the desk, feeling it start to erupt from your core. No. She sucks harder, her lips stretching around your cock even tighter, her tongue circling your glans, and you finally explode into the condom as your entire body shudders, and you drive into Heejin’s throat, a silent scream rising in your chest. The condom is filled with what must be the thickest, stickiest, hottest cum of your life. Haseul's still holding her shoulder as you geyser away, shutting your eyes and biting your tongue and putting your whole face in your palm while your every muscle tenses. You must look like a raving lunatic.

"Oh! What was that?" Haseul asks, innocently.

"Nothing. Nothing. Noth..." You're panting. "No offense, can you step outside for like five minutes, I just need to... My head... ow."

"I'm so sorry!" Haseul steps back immediately. "I should've taken the hint! Take your time."

"Thank you," you manage as the last dribbles of your orgasm fill the condom. You can feel Heejin smug as she gently sucks whatever remains of that orgasm. Your cock's so fucking sensitive now.

As soon as the door closes and footsteps recede in the distance, Heejin lifts her head off your lap, smacking her lips obnoxiously.

"Wow," Heejin grins."She's so sweet."

Your brain is filled with fog.

Her breath tickles your sensitive shaft and sends pleasurable chills up and down your body. "That was hot as fuck, wasn't it?" Heejin asks. Maybe. Maybe not. What just happened. You respond with nothing. Heejin grabs her phone from her bag and types away. "There. She'll leave us alone now."

"What?"

Heejin giggles. "God, this one looks especially full." She slides the condom off using tightly sealed lips, and you have to watch it slowly slip from your shaft. When it falls into her hands, instead of tying it up as routine, she brings it to her lips."Sorry Daddy, this one looks too good not to..."

"You're really gonna—"

"Yup!" Heejin takes the condom in her mouth and lets the opening unfurl onto her tongue. The sticky white fluid that drips out pools in the back of her throat, her jaw stretched to flaunt. While the rubbery sheathe gets thinner and emptier, Heejin swishes the sperm around. It looks like a one-man bukkake inside Heejin's mouth.

"You're such a nasty slut."

With a smirk, her mouth shuts. Her lips curl over it as she gulps and swallows with a noisy gulp. Her cheeks bulge and her neck is visibly working. You watch as the entirety of your cum is swallowed. She opens her mouth wide again, tongue lolled out, to show off her hard work."Ahh. All clean. Don't pretend you don't love it." Heejin pouts. "Aw, man. I can't add this one to the others."

"Here, give me that." You take the sloppy condom from Heejin's hand, and she lets you, a little surprised, a little curious as you place it on the corner of your desk.

"What are you doing?"

You're thankful Haseul is gone by now; otherwise, she'd catch a cum-covered green condom on your desk corner, and a Heejin grinding on it like she was going to get pregnant from that thing. Now there's a video you'll watch over and over. Heejin makes for the cutest squirmer. Her little whimpers and gasps are endearing, and the neediness with which she rubs her cunt against the condom will probably turn into your go-to material when Heejin's too busy at work.

***

Hybrid work is great. You're thankful Haseul gave you the green light for remote work whenever you need it. While you wish Heejin's company gave her the same luxury, you realize that would likely lead to an extreme lack of productivity, even if no one else knew what exactly was happening.

It would lead to days like this.

"Hey babe, welcome back!" Heejin runs up to you as soon as you walk through the door, and you wrap your arms around her and kiss her forehead. She's in the middle of getting dressed, a bra on her chest and her panties on her bottom, and she smells like fresh soap and a hint of sweat, like she just did a bit of manual labor. Her body is soft and warm against yours, and her hair tickles your neck. "How was work?" she asks, pulling back from you.

"Same as usual." You shrug off your backpack, setting it on a table, and Heejin's eyes light up as you unzip the front pocket.

"I have something new for you."

"Oh yeah?"

Heejin brings you to your office and you find a fancy new standing desk. You were just talking about wanting one now that you'll be working at home more often.

"You're the best. I love you." You pull her in and kiss her on the mouth, and Heejin eagerly kisses back, her arms wrapping around your neck.

When you break away, she looks up at you and grins. "You know, I didn't just get this for ergonomics." She drags you by the hand to the side. "Check it out." That's when you realize this woman has corrupted your office space. Your laptop (not the work one, thank goodness) is opened to a tab of some porn video. There are condoms and lube bottles on the side, as well as an empty box. Heejin giggles as you gape at her.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Is it not obvious what I'm going for?"

"How am I gonna get work done with this?"

"Easy." Heejin points to the gap between the desk and where you're standing. "You stand here, and I'll crawl underneath and just lie down, with my ass up in the air, and you can just fuck my pussy like a fleshlight whenever you need to jerk off. It's perfect."

"Hah. Work, though."

"I'll be good!" Heejin gives her best puppy-dog eyes, and you can feel yourself melting at the sight of her pout. "I'll try not to moan, and I won't cum unless you let me. Let me show you."

Heejin gets underneath the desk, bending over like a gymnast and grabbing her ankles. Though she's wearing a casual home dress, you're easily reminded how flexible and athletic Heejin's body is, her thighs and ass toned from her years of dancing.

"You can use my holes whenever you want." She wiggles her ass at you. "And when you're done, I'll take your cum. See? Make a deposit in the cum bank." Her laughter turns to a squeal as you swat her ass. The noise echoes throughout your home office space. "How does that sound?"

You respond by tugging her dress up to her hips and pulling her panties down to her thighs. Heejin shivers and lets out a little sigh, her pussy already dripping wet. "God, you're so hot," you murmur. You rest your cock between the snug crevice of her ass while you get the computer ready, a browser full of porn tabs ready to be explored. Heejin's ass is so soft against the underside of your shaft, and you can feel your cock twitch as you start rubbing against her.

You click through a couple of porn videos before settling on a petite woman with a tight body and a big rack, getting fucked from behind in a POV perspective. Heejin giggles. "Ooh, I think I recognize that one Daddy. Her ass is cute, isn't it? Are you going to jerk off your cock with my holes imagining they’re hers?" You pop a condom onto your cock and slide in. Heejin's pussy feels like heaven, as always, but you're not sure how long you'll last, given the circumstances.

"Yours is better," you say. "But I don't mind spicing it up."

The woman in the video is moaning and squealing and screaming about the cock pounding into her pussy. Heejin is doing her best to stay quiet, but you can hear her breathing heavily and whimpering with every thrust.

You squeeze Heejin's asscheek. "Cocksleeves don't talk, remember?"

"Fuck, Daddy, I'm trying... you just get so, fuck, fucking deep..." she moans. "I can feel you all the way in my cunt." You give her ass a firm smack. "Fuck! Sorry Daddy, I promise, I promise I'll be good." She's still whimpering, but you can tell she's trying her best. God, you're not gonna last long.

You grab Heejin's hips, pulling her back onto your cock with each thrust. Her tight, warm, wet pussy feels amazing around your cock. She's still whimpering and moaning, but she's trying her best to keep it down. It doesn't take long before you feel yourself about to cum. With a groan, you slam into Heejin one last time, your cock twitching inside her as you cum, and you can feel the condom filling up.

You stay like that for a few moments, panting, before pulling out. Heejin whimpers as you do, her pussy clenching around your cock. You take a moment to catch your breath, then tie off the used condom, and drop it on the small of Heejin's back.

"Thank you, Daddy." Heejin sounds like she's in a daze.

You give her no respite, opening another video and feeling inspired. This is a much rougher one, the man in the video holding the woman's arms behind her back and brutally slamming his cock into her asshole. You decide that you want to try that, grabbing another condom and lubing it up thoroughly. Heejin gasps as you plunge into her asshole and pull her arms back, and you start fucking her, hard.

"Daddy!"

You yank her hair. "Be a quiet anal fleshlight, or you're not getting any cum today."

"Yes Daddy," Heejin moans, but her words cut off in a squeal as you yank on her hair again. This time, Heejin tries her hardest to stay quiet, and you're impressed at how well she manages, despite the rough treatment you're giving her ass, her hair in a ponytail that you're using as a rein to control her. You can feel Heejin's tight hole clenching around you, and you know she's getting close. Just as she's about to cum, you pull out, leaving her unsatisfied.

"Daddy..." She whimpers, and you can hear her pouting. "Please, I was so close..."

"On your knees." The sudden command is met with no resistance from Heejin. She immediately crawls out from under the desk, her dress still bunched up at her waist, her panties still around her thighs. You slap your condom-covered dick against her cheek. "Clean my cock, slut." You grab her by the hair and shove her face down onto your cock, your other hand holding the base of your shaft. Heejin doesn't even blink, just starts sucking on the rubber-covered shaft, no care in the world about the taste of her own ass. She moans around it as she cleans it off, her eyes closed, looking content. You let her suckle for a while, before pulling out and yanking her back to her feet by the hair.

"Are you gonna use me again like a fucktoy? Jerk off using my asshole?" Her eyes glimmer at the prospect.

"No. Get on all fours. I'm done with porn for now, I wanna use my anal fucktoy properly."

You don't need to ask twice. Heejin gets on the floor and arches her back, her ass up and her head down, presenting herself to you. You close the laptop and then squeeze lube between Heejin's ass cheeks. She shudders.

"You have some incredible ideas, but sometimes I just prefer to fuck my girlfriend." You plunge into her and Heejin squeals in delight. "God, you're so tight," you groan, starting to pound her ass. "I can't get enough of you."

"Thank you Daddy, thank you!" She moans. "God yes, fuck me, use my tight little ass, it's yours, it's yours, it's yours. Use it whenever you want." You're fucking her harder and faster now, her tight asshole squeezing your cock, and Heejin is folding and buckling under the sheer force of your thrusts, her hands and face pressed into the floor. You really don't need much time, as Heejin's ass is so tight and hot, and it doesn't take long before you're cumming into the condom with a loud groan.

When you pull out, Heejin collapses face-down into the floor, her ass sticking up, her asshole gaping and twitching around the emptiness.

"Looks like that asshole is begging for cum." You peel the cum-filled condom off your cock, and Heejin looks back at you. She must be thinking what you're thinking. You take the opening of the condom and pour it into her ass, and Heejin gasps then moans as you watch it trickle into her gaping hole.

"That feels... so good, Daddy." Her voice is slurred. She's barely coherent. "So good."

You watch the cum dribble down her thighs, and you reach down and spread Heejin's ass open so you can watch more of your seed disappear into her tight, gaping asshole until the condom is empty and Heejin's ass is dripping with your cum. When you let go of her ass, you slap it and Heejin jumps. "Stay there. I'll get some water for you."

As you leave the room, Heejin giggles, her face pressed against the carpet of your office. "Mmm, thank you. I'll stay nice and still for you."

You return to the sight of a beautiful woman, still in the same position as when you left except with two fingers in her pussy, two down her cream-lubed asshole.

***

Usually, you awake to the sound of your morning alarm. This is not the case today. Instead, you are rudely (or rather, kindly) awakened by Heejin slurping and sucking on your cock.

"Goo' morning," Heejin greets you, her voice muffled. "I was waiting for you to wake up. Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

You rub your eyes and squint to look at your phone while Heejin nurses on your cockhead like it's a lollipop. "Yeah, you told me before. What time is it, babe? Are we gonna be late?"

"It's six." Heejin pouts. "We have plenty of time. We just won't be able to take our time, that's all." She kisses the head of your dick. "I think we'll be fine. Let me just get a couple of loads from you and then I'll get ready."

You sigh. You can never resist her. And, you suppose, it is nice waking up to Heejin sucking your cock.

"You like my collar, Daddy?" She smirks, looking up at you with big puppy dog eyes, and bats her lashes. The leather choker has a large silver hoop on it. "I figured it'd be a good way to carry more condoms. Look!" She grabs an empty, unopened one from your side table, opens the wrapper, and slips the ring into the hoop on her collar, like a keychain. "Doesn't that look good?"

"I bet it'll look better filled."

Heejin giggles. She's back to blowing you, the rubbery condom a familiar and pleasant sensation on your shaft. "So sexy," she mumbles.

Your hands run through her hair, gripping it tightly, but you let her do the work, slurping up and down on your cock.

"Deeper."

Heejin pushes herself down further, taking it into the back of her throat, and she gags but doesn't stop. Even with a tear running down her cheek, Heejin's smile doesn't waver.

"You like choking on my cock?"

Heejin hums an affirmative.

"You like having your throat fucked?"

She gags again, but Heejin doesn't stop, and you feel yourself getting close, especially with her hands doing all sorts of work, massaging your balls and caressing the underside of your cock.

"All before we've even had breakfast."

[goddessofchaosss]

Most people would see Ellie as a strong non submissive. Hard headed, stubborn woman. Most girls would say that she doesn’t look like the type to like being called pretty or let someone else take the reigns

Ironic considering that Ellie really likes being called pretty and be praised, especially in bed

At first when y’all started dating, she was very dominant and didn’t really make loud noises because she’s was pretty shy around you. But after awhile she got more comfortable and relaxed, and didn’t seem to hold back. Well that’s what u thought. Now imagine the realization when u notice how much she likes being praised, I mean she’s so wet.

What shocked u is that she’s sooo whiny and whimpers when u touch and say things the right way. Nibble her ear, check. Lick and suck her neck, check. Grind on her thigh or her crotch, check. Grip her neck and have a nasty messy make out, absolutely check.

If u call her a pretty girl while grinding on her or touching her, then best believe she will let out the nastiest sound and her boxers will be soaked. She gets so desperate that her hands shake around ur waist, she just can’t wait to put her pretty pussy on urs or fuck u real good with the strap:(

“Please baby- don’t stop”

“Ellie- fuck, ur so pretty”

She will hide her pretty fucking face in ur neck because of how red her face feels. She’ll feel herself drip and feel so sticky between her pretty legs. She’ll be so annoyed with herself because she wants to make u come and be all whiny and shit, so why is she the one receiving the earth shattering head while being called a good girl? Are u trying to kill her? She feels her goddamn heart in her fucking throat.

“God- ur such a good girl baby, I-I love you so much fuck-“

“U make me feel soso good baby”

“U-ur gonna make me cum angel, hahh my god”

She will come fast if u pull her hair, tell her how good she is and that she’s doing an amazing job. She’ll start breathing deep, fast and swear under her breath whilst trying not to be so fucking loud but that’s impossible since ur touching every single sensitive spot on her body;)

She’s just a girl🎀

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

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note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[ahqkas]

Hello! ^^

First, just wanna say your blog is amazing. Second, what kind of shenanigans do you think would ensue with the batboys having a hyper physically clingy S/O? Like their S/O would get so excited they're home and just tackle hug them before they make it past the door kind of clingy.

♯ FRIDAY I’M IN LOVE . . . ( the batboys ! )

— gn!reader, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce wayne, the ever-composed patriarch of the family, would at first have no idea how to handle such enthusiasm. his s/o being hyper-physically affectionate would probably throw him completely off-balance at first—not because he doesn’t enjoy the affection but because he’s not used to being greeted like that.

( the door creaks open as bruce steps inside the manor, still half-lost in the grim report alfred had handed him earlier. before he even sets his briefcase down, a blur barrels toward him, arms wide, a gleeful shout of his name ringing through the grand hall.

he braces himself instinctively like he’s about to be tackled by a rogue metahuman. “wait—” is all he manages before you collide with him, wrapping him in a bear hug strong enough to make his muscles tense. for a second, bruce freezes like a deer in headlights.

“miss me?” you grin, cheek pressed to his chest as you sway him back and forth like a tree in a storm.

bruce glances down, trying to maintain the stoic facade, but his lips twitch, betraying the barest hint of amusement. “you know, most people say hello first.”

alfred passes by with an arched brow and a muttered, “at least you don’t end up unconscious, master wayne.”

he sighs, exasperated but secretly endeared. he knows by now resistance is futile. one hand rests awkwardly on your back, the other fumbling to steady the files tucked under his arm. “you’re going to sprain something one day,” he murmurs, though there’s a faint warmth in his tone. )

the first time you tackle-hugged him after patrol, bruises and all, bruce immediately went into “are you hurt?” mode despite being the one who should be resting. “you can’t just launch yourself at me like that—you could get hurt,” he’d chide, even as he gently pulls you closer to make sure you’re okay.

alfred would quietly revel in the sheer domestication of bruce’s typically aloof charge. “ah, nothing like unrestrained enthusiasm to balance out your brooding, sir.”

DICK GRAYSON

dick grayson would be all in for having a hyper-physically affectionate s/o. the guy thrives on connection, and someone who matches his energy—or even outpaces it—would not only make him laugh but also make him feel completely loved. if anything, your clingy antics would ignite a bit of playful competition as dick tries to out-affection you, though he’d absolutely let you win most of the time.

( the moment he unlocks the door after a patrol, the creak of the hinges is your signal to strike. without hesitation, you launch yourself at him like a projectile, arms wide and grinning ear to ear.

“dick!”

“whoa—!” he yelps, barely managing to catch you before you tackle him into the doorframe. one arm wraps around your waist while the other steadies both of you. “are you trying to kill me, or…?” he teases, his voice light with laughter.

“i’m just so happy you’re home!” you say, nuzzling into his neck.

“yeah? well, i love being tackled the moment i step inside,” he says sarcastically, but the grin splitting his face is entirely genuine. “i mean, forget taking off my boots or hanging up my jacket—this is exactly what i needed.” he spins you around for good measure, making you laugh as he carries you further inside. )

dick would absolutely take your clinginess as a challenge to see who could be more over-the-top. you tackle-hug him at the door? he’ll scoop you up and spin you. you randomly leap on his back during a walk? he’ll carry you piggyback all the way home. it’s basically a constant competition to outdo each other.

one time, you caught him mid-workout and tried to climb on his back during push-ups. he pretended to be annoyed but ended up laughing so hard he couldn’t finish his reps. “you’re impossible,” he’d say between laughs, letting you sit on his back as he fake-struggled to keep going.

JASON TODD

jason todd would act like he didn’t know how to handle having such a clingy and affectionate s/o, but deep down, he’d secretly live for it. the guy has been through hell and back, so having someone who’s so unapologetically excited to see him would catch him off-guard at first—but it would also heal a part of him he didn’t know was still raw. he might grumble, roll his eyes, and mutter sarcastic quips, but the way he’d instinctively hold onto you would give away just how much he craves your affection.

( jason walks through the apartment door, shoulders tense from a long night of patrol, his helmet tucked under one arm. he barely gets two steps inside before the sound of your excited yell fills the air.

“jay!”

before he can react, you’re barreling toward him, all wild energy and open arms. “oh, shi—” the rest of his curse is cut off as you launch yourself at him, practically climbing him like a tree. he stumbles back a step, caught off-guard but reflexively wrapping his arms around you to keep you both steady.

“missed me?” you ask with a grin, nuzzling into his neck as your legs wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

jason sighs, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably. “miss you? you act like i’ve been gone for months. i was literally out for, what, five hours?”

“too long,” you mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter.

despite his words, you feel his shoulders relax as he hugs you back. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?” he says softly, his voice a little rough around the edges but warm. )

jason would never stop pretending to grumble about your antics. “do you have to tackle me every time i walk through the door? my ribs aren’t exactly indestructible.” but if you ever didn’t tackle him, he’d immediately notice. “what, no welcome-home ambush? you mad at me or something?”

he would absolutely start using your clinginess against you. if he wanted your attention, he’d dramatically throw himself onto the couch and groan, “i can’t go on. i need one of your hugs to survive.”

TIM DRAKE

tim drake would initially be overwhelmed by having such a physically clingy s/o, mostly because he’s used to people respecting his personal bubble—or just not being that excited to see him. but once he got past the initial shock, he’d secretly love it, even if he was absolutely terrible at expressing that in words. your affectionate antics would constantly fluster him, but he’d quickly become addicted to the way you made him feel wanted and cared for.

( if you interrupted tim in the middle of one of his all-nighters, the results would be like this: imagine him sitting at his desk, surrounded by coffee cups and glowing monitors, so hyper-focused that he doesn’t even hear you sneaking up behind him.

suddenly, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and you rest your chin on top of his head. “hi,” you whisper, making him jump so hard he almost knocks over his coffee.

“[name]!” he hisses, spinning around to glare at you, his heart racing.

“sorry, couldn’t resist,” you say with a cheeky grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

tim sighs, trying to look annoyed, but the light blush creeping up his neck gives him away. “you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but instead of pushing you away, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. “if i let you stay, will you let me finish his report?”

“no promises.” )

your ambushes would frequently catch tim off-guard, leading to spilled coffee, toppled stacks of paperwork, and at least one destroyed keyboard. “[name], i love you, but you’re going to bankrupt me in tech replacements,” he’d grumble while cleaning up the latest mess.

he would eventually start using your affection as an excuse to take breaks. if you tackled him while he was working, he’d let out a long-suffering sigh and say, “fine. five minutes. but only because you’re so insistent.” cue you dragging him to the couch for cuddles while he pretends to be annoyed.

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[roanniom]

First Date

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, heavy petting, groping, slight hand job, dry humping

You both try to go slow, it's your first date after all. But it’s not as easy as it sounds when his hands are wandering and your lips are on his neck. Eddie has the top of your dress pulled down (he’d groaned dramatically when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra) and his body leans over yours, your thighs on either side of his hips and your back on the couch.

You knew you weren’t going all the way, but you’d told him he could take his jeans off. It was a selfish ask. It made it so that you could feel him better when you rubbed against him.

You suck lightly on his earlobe and Eddie gasps.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah?” you ask breathily, more tease than you would have guessed yourself capable of. He chuckles but it is half pant.

"Yeah."

You kiss his earlobe again, grazing your teeth lightly over the shell.

"I need to fuck you," he mutters, though he pulls back and away from your mouth. Eddie looks down at you with hazy. "But we're not fucking tonight, so I need a second to get my shit together."

While he takes a breath, he sits back on his heels, your legs still around his hips. He rests his hands heavy on your thighs and looks down at you in your amused, debauched state. It's absolutely not helping him calm down. Neither is the fact that he can't stop his hands from sliding up and squeezing over your exposed breasts.

"Fuck," Eddie mutters as he watches the supple flesh give and spill around his large fingers. His audible frustration makes you let out a giggle, and you notice that his cock twitches in his boxers at the sound. The sight has you ready to end this break, so you push him so that he's sitting against the back of the couch, clambering up to straddle him.

"You're hot," you mumble before kissing your way from his jaw to his lips. Your hand slides down his chest to rest on his abdomen. He cants his hips upward and the tip of his clothed cock taps your hand, obviously encouraging you to grasp it through the fabric. So of course you do.

"Shit, no you're hot."

You bite your lip to keep from arguing with him. He's calling you hot and if you're honest with yourself, you've never felt hotter than you do right now with his hands all over you, so you decide to go with it. Eddie hangs his head so he can watch you jerk him slowly through his boxers. It's hot and hard in your palm and you're sure to rub your thumb over the mushroom head, pleased to feel a little bit of sticky precum bleed through the cloth.

This is absolutely not what you'd assumed would happen when you agreed to spontaneously go on this first date earlier today. You'd guessed you would, at best, enjoy some good conversation and company. You hadn't anticipated agreeing to go back to his place after just a few drinks, but holy fuck are you glad that's the direction the night took.

It's not long before Eddie's hand drops over the back of yours, stopping your motion over his member.

"Baby...you're killing me. We might need to stop," he grunts. Contrary to his words, his hand continues to guide yours up and down his cock, making you laugh. Eddie's eyes flash up to yours in amusement.

"What's so funny?" he asks. You shake your head but keep laughing, so Eddie takes the opportunity to push you onto your back again. His hand cups between your legs, fingers pressing over where your clit should be. You lift your hips to seek out more friction, though you know it's a useless pursuit with how snug and thick your stockings are.

"Right there?" Eddie asks, pressing more pointedly. Your roll your hips, impatient.

"Yeah...under layers," you joke. His hand worms into the tight control panel waistband of your stockings so he can play with the top of your panties.

"You know," he says casually, as if his hand isn't between your legs making you melt. "I could go down on you."

You blink up at him.

"Huh?"

"I could go down on you," Eddie repeats, leaning down over you to kiss your neck. "If you want."

When you don't reply, Eddie pulls back to gauge your reaction. It spurs you to speak up.

"Nobody's ever done that before," you say quietly. Eddie continues to swirl his finger over the top of your panties, but the movement is gentle.

"Really?" he asks, voice colored with disbelief. You shrug and try not to show that you're embarrassed by the inexperience you're projecting. Eddie's having none of it. "I'd go down on you, baby."

You surge up then at his words and pull him into another deep kiss. It's all tongue and teeth with your hands in his hair, tugging hard. Eddie's hand pulls out of the waistband of your stockings so he can grip and grab at you wildly in response.

You do it so that it can distract him from the offer he was making. Because there's nothing you wanted more than to let him rip your stockings off your body and put that talented tongue to use at your apex. But you had promised yourself that - even if you were going to hook up pretty intensely - you weren't going to have sex on this first date.

Eddie finally pulls back to let you breathe, which you do with a gasp, and he rests his sweaty forehead to yours.

"Probably better not. If I go down on you...I'm pretty sure we'll end up fucking."

He says it with a smug grin on his face. Pure confidence that makes you laugh and want to contradict him, but you absolutely know the man is correct.

"Yeah, I guess that's right."

Eddie sits back up to give you room to do the same. You both sit facing the long dark television to catch your breath. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Eddie has his hand on his still hard dick, stroking softly. He catches you looking and shoots you a grin.

"Sorry, I'm so fucking tuned on." He's saying sorry but his thighs are manspread performatively and it's very clear he likes you watching him. Just as much as he likes watching your breasts bounce as you laugh and lean forward to kiss the tattoo on his pec. You rest your head against his shoulder so you can watch him touch himself for another few minutes before you sigh.

"I think I have to leave before I end up doing what I really want to do."

Eddie groans and stills his hand, moving it up instead to cradle your jaw, turning you towards him for one more lingering kiss.

"Let me call you a cab," he says against your lips and you nod.

While you run to the bathroom to adjust your dress and make sure it doesn't look like you'd just dry humped Eddie Munson for an hour, the man in question puts his jeans back on. You walk out to find him adjust his still hard cock in the confines of the garment, wincing.

"Alright there, champ?" you ask him with a grin. The cab honks its arrival out front.

"I will be jerking off the minute you leave, just know," he says matter-of-factly as he leads you out the door. "I don't know if girls need to do that, but I'm pretty much gonna die if I can't cum after all that."

He says it good-naturedly and for once in all of your dating life, you don't feel pressured or shamed. Just extremely flattered to have this kind of effect on him.

At the bottom of his front step you turn and place a hand on the side of his neck and pull him down closer to you.

"I don't need to make myself cum. But I'm definitely going to," you whisper into his ear before running off to the cab, sparing him one cheeky look over your shoulder so you can bask in his dumbfounded expression.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if you did!

[lupinqs]

GHOSTFACE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: after a kill, paige decides she needs to fuck you senseless.

☆ ━ word count: 8.3K

☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (absolute pure filth, dom!paige, kinda bratty!reader, choking, blood kink, knifeplay, oral, fingering), oh yeah also murder

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: my halloween treat for you 🍬😜 on a serious note tho this is actually the freakiest nastiest shit i’ve ever written idk wtf i was on

THE CAR idles in the dark, the soft hum of the engine barely cutting through the late-night quiet of Storrs. You sit in the driver’s seat, the burner phone in your lap, your fingers drumming against the wheel as you steal a glance at the clock. It’s past midnight, the world outside wrapped in a blanket of stillness, but your heart is anything but calm. The recent killings on campus have the entire student body on edge, but no one would ever guess that the two of you—the school’s sweetheart basketball star and her quiet, unsuspecting girlfriend—are the ones behind it all.

Tonight, though, has a different kind of energy. It’s not just about the kill. It’s about what came before. Paige is sitting next to you in the passenger seat, her Ghostface costume on, the long black cloak pooling around her legs. Her game-day braids are still tied back into a ponytail, her skin still glowing with the leftover adrenaline from the UConn game earlier tonight. She’d killed it on the court—led the team to another win, the crowd chanting her name as she drained shot after shot.

Now, she’s about to kill in a very different way.

You feel a surge of excitement just thinking about it—about how she can seamlessly transition from the basketball star everyone worships to this… to your partner in something darker, something the two of you have created and mastered together. You’ve always been the one with the words, the voice on the phone that lures them in, taunting them, teasing them, until Paige steps in and finishes the job. She’s the executioner, but you set the stage.

“Still riding that high, huh?” you tease, your voice soft but playful as you glance over at her. You can see it in the way her leg bounces slightly, the leftover buzz of the game still coursing through her.

Paige turns to you, a smirk playing on her lips. “Can’t help it. We crushed ‘em tonight.” She adjusts the mask in her lap, her eyes flickering with excitement that’s just as much about what’s to come as it is about the win she’s still basking in. “You saw that last block, right? Perfect.”

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, it was good.”

She grins, her confidence practically radiating off her. It’s the same look she wears after every game—this electric mix of pride and hunger for more. But tonight, there’s a sharper edge to it, a different kind of hunger simmering beneath the surface. One that only you know about.

Paige leans over suddenly, her hand grabbing your jaw, pulling you into her, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s rough, heated. You kiss her back, matching her intensity, the burner phone nearly slipping from your lap as your hand grips the back of her neck. The adrenaline from the night, from her win, from the secret you both share—it all mixes into a heady, intoxicating rush.

She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her voice low and teasing. “Wish me luck, baby.”

Her smirk is wicked as she slips the Ghostface mask over her head, the familiar face now staring back at you. It’s eerie, unnerving—everything it’s supposed to be—but you know who’s behind it. Paige.

The sound of the car door opening is the only thing that breaks the silence as Paige steps out, her black cloak trailing behind her as she disappears into the night.

You wait a few moments, scrolling through your phone before deciding to get out. The door slams shut behind you with a sharp, metallic thud that echoes through the quiet night. The cold Connecticut wind bites at your face as you step away from the car, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s freezing tonight, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones and lingers, but the thrill, the adrenaline of what’s about to happen, keeps you warm enough.

You shove your hands into your pockets, walking slowly toward the edge of the building. The apartment complex looms ahead, its brick exterior cold and silent, with only a few lights flickering from various windows. Your breath fogs up in the night air as you circle around, your shoes scraping against the asphalt, the distant sounds of traffic muffled by the wind.

You reach the back of the building, your body finding refuge against the brick wall. The rough texture scratches through your jacket as you lean against it, glancing around to make sure no one’s nearby. You’re careful, always careful. This isn’t your first time doing this, after all.

Paige is inside, probably already climbing the stairs, making her way to the bartender’s apartment. You can imagine her slipping through the shadows, as quiet and deadly as she is on the court, that same fierce determination in her eyes.

You pull a cigarette from your pocket, slipping it between your lips before lighting it, the flame briefly illuminating your face before you inhale deeply. The smoke curls in the cold air, the familiar burn in your lungs settling you, grounding you. This part of the night is always the same—the waiting. But it’s also the part you’ve come to appreciate. The anticipation, the patience it takes. You wait for Paige’s text, the one that’ll let you know she’s in position, ready for you to make the call.

The call that’ll lure tonight’s target straight into her arms.

The bartender. You think back to that night, just a few days ago, when you and Paige were out with her team. It was supposed to be a fun night, just you, Paige, and the rest of the girls, celebrating another win. Paige had been in her usual form—confident, charismatic, drawing everyone’s attention like she always does. But then she came into the picture. The fucking bartender.

The girl had been pouring drinks all night, flirting shamelessly with Paige, making little comments, smiling at her in a way that made your blood boil. Paige had stayed cool, giving her those polite but dismissive smiles, her arm draped around your waist as if to make it clear. But the bartender either didn’t care or didn’t notice, and it had pissed you off. You could tell Paige had noticed too, the way she tightened her grip on you, the way her eyes flicked to yours whenever the girl leaned in too close.

And, later that night, after a few drinks, the two of you had ended up in the bathroom, making out against the sink. Paige had been rougher than usual, her hands gripping your hips, her lips almost bruising yours, and in the heat of it, she’d pulled back, breathless, and whispered, “You wanna kill her?”

You hadn’t hesitated. Of course you wanted to kill her.

So, tonight, here you are. The plan is simple—Paige gets in, finds her, and you make the call. Then, Paige does what she does best. Only tonight, there’s something different. Paige had promised that you’d get the final stab. The last touch, the one that seals the deal, making it yours too.

You take another drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly, your eyes scanning the street. Everything is still, nothing but the occasional flicker of movement behind closed windows. The night is quiet, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for what’s about to unfold.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a thrill shoot up your spine. You pull it out and glance at the screen.

It’s Paige.

One word: Ready.

Your heart skips a beat, the cigarette forgotten as you flick it away, crushing it under your heel. Showtime. You slide the phone back into your hand, dialing the bartender’s number. It rings once, twice, before the click of the line picking up fills your ear. For a moment, all you can hear is the faint sound of background noise—some low music, maybe the TV—and then her voice comes through, light and unexpectedly cheery for how late it is.

“Hello?” The bartender’s tone is casual, friendly, like she’s used to people calling her at odd hours. It’s clear she’s not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

You suppress a grin, knowing exactly where this is headed. You always start the same way—light, teasing, pretending to be someone she might actually want to talk to. And as always, you speak through the voice changer, your voice distorted into something deeper, something unrecognizable.

“Hey,” you say, the voice changer making you sound almost playful. “You still up?”

There’s a pause on the other end, like she’s trying to place your voice. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Who’s this?”

You lean back against the wall, settling into your role. “Just someone who noticed you the other night. Thought I’d give you a call. You just started bartending, right? At Ted’s?”

Another pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Oh,” she says after a moment, her tone picking up with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, that’s me. How’d you get my number?”

You chuckle, low and smooth, keeping your tone flirtatious. “Got my ways.”

She laughs softly, clearly entertained. “Well, I guess you’re resourceful, huh? What’s your name?”

You sidestep the question, keeping her engaged, knowing that she’ll follow along if you give her just enough. “What’s yours?” you ask instead, turning it around on her.

She laughs again, a little softer this time, and you can picture her sitting up, maybe twirling her hair or playing with her phone. “Kelsey,” she offers.

“Kelsey,” you repeat, letting her name roll off your tongue, the voice changer making it sound almost sinister, but not enough for her to notice—yet. “Pretty name. You’re pretty good at pouring drinks too.”

She snorts. “Well, thanks. I do my best. You one of my regulars or something?”

You let the silence hang for a beat, then reply, “You could say that. I saw you with your hands all over that blonde girl the other night. What was her name? Paige?”

There’s a shift in her tone now, a slight hesitation. “Oh… yeah, I remember her,” she says, her voice a bit more careful, like she’s suddenly unsure of where this conversation is going. “You friends with her or something?”

You can feel her starting to get a little uneasy, and it makes you smile, the thrill of it building in your chest. You lean forward slightly, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

“Something like that,” you say, your voice low now, more serious. “You were really bold, flirting with her like that, Kelsey. I gotta say, I don’t think she appreciated it. And I definitely didn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence. A longer one this time. And when she speaks again, there’s a trace of nervous laughter in her voice. “Okay, uh… who the hell is this?”

You can hear her trying to play it off, but there’s a flicker of panic underneath. She’s starting to realize this isn’t a joke. This isn’t some casual late-night flirtation.

“You don’t remember me?” you ask, sounding almost innocent. “I was there that whole night.”

Her breath catches, and then she laughs again, this time more forced, trying to regain control. “Alright, this is getting weird,” she says. “I’m gonna hang up now—”

“Don’t.” Your voice cuts through sharply, commanding, and you hear the soft gasp she makes on the other end. “Don’t you fucking dare hang up.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathing, shaky now, uneven. You can almost see her, sitting in her apartment, probably looking around, trying to figure out if this is a prank, if someone’s watching her. You know the thoughts running through her head. You’ve seen it all before.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but—”

“I want you to stay on the phone,” you interrupt, your voice laced with cold amusement. “You’ve been real fun to talk to so far, Kelsey. Don’t ruin it now.”

You hear her exhale sharply, the panic setting in for real now. “This isn’t funny, okay? Just—just leave me alone, or I’m calling the cops.”

“Go ahead,” you say casually, starting to grin. “Call them. Tell them someone’s watching you.”

Her breath hitches again, and you can hear the unmistakable tremor in her voice. “Watching me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Your smile widens. “Sweetheart,” you say softly, almost kindly, “I can see you.”

A small, broken gasp escapes her, and you hear her scramble, probably getting off the couch, rushing to lock her door or check her windows. The desperation in her voice is thick now. “Where are you? Where the fuck are you?”

You pause for just a second, letting the tension build, before finally answering, “Right behind you.”

There’s a crash on the other end of the line, followed immediately by a scream that’s cut short. You hear the sound of a body hitting the floor, the unmistakable sound of the phone dropping, and then—

The pleading starts.

“Please, no—no—” Kelsey’s voice is choked, panicked, and you can hear her gasping for air, her words coming out in sobs now. You can picture it perfectly—Paige towering over her, the blade glinting in the dim light of the apartment. The sound of a struggle follows, Kelsey’s voice growing more desperate, more terrified. “Please! I—”

And then the first stab.

It’s a wet, sickening sound, the blade sinking into flesh. Kelsey’s scream is sharp, but it quickly turns into a gargle as blood fills her throat. You hear her choking, trying to speak, to beg. There’s more stabbing, more squelching, before it stops, and all you can hear are weak, broken sobs.

For a few more seconds, there’s nothing but shuffling, the sound of Paige moving around, and then—quiet.

You wait, holding your breath, the anticipation still thrumming through you, until finally, you hear her voice. Paige’s voice, smooth, confident, and a little out of breath.

“Baby,” she says, and you can practically hear her smile through the phone, “you can come on up here now. She’s ready for you.”

You hang up before beginning to walk, keeping your pace quick as you stride into the apartment building. You’re trying to be fast—you don’t want her to fucking bleed out and die before you can finish her off.

The elevator ride up to her floor feels agonizingly slow, your foot tapping impatiently against the metal floor. When you finally reach her door, you stop for a second, taking a breath, checking the number to make sure it’s the right one. Your fist raises, knocking once—sharp and deliberate.

The door swings open almost immediately, and there she is—Paige, standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the dim apartment lights. She’s still wearing the Ghostface costume, though the mask dangles casually from her hand now. Her braids, still in that game-day ponytail, are a little mussed, strands sticking out here and there, but it only adds to the chaotic allure of her right now. There’s blood splattered across her face, stark against her skin, and across her clothes too. She hasn’t even bothered to clean it up yet, and God, you can’t help but think she looks so fucking hot.

Her eyes are gleaming, and there’s that familiar smirk on her lips, a wild energy simmering underneath her calm exterior. She steps aside, motioning you inside with an almost nonchalant flick of her hand, like she’s inviting you into some casual dinner party, not a murder scene.

“Come on in,” Paige murmurs, her voice low, still tinged with excitement.

You step inside, your shoes making soft thuds against the hardwood floor. As you move past her, you catch the faintest whiff of blood—coppery, metallic—and it sends a rush through you, like a shot of adrenaline straight to your veins. Paige closes the door behind you, and you take in the scene in front of you.

Kelsey is on the floor, twitching in agony, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. She’s choking on her own blood, gasping and gargling as it pools in her mouth, her eyes wide with terror and pain. It’s clear she’s still alive, but just barely. Paige has done her job, but she’s left enough for you to finish.

Paige steps up behind you, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “She’s all yours,” she whispers, pressing the bloody knife into your hand. The blade is still warm, slick with Kelsey’s blood, and the weight of it in your hand sends a thrill through you.

You take the knife, your fingers tightening around the hilt as you approach Kelsey’s broken, twitching form. Her eyes, glazed over with fear and pain, manage to lock onto yours as you kneel beside her. The sound of her labored breathing is all you can hear, the wet gurgle of blood in her throat. You smile down at her, a sweet, almost tender expression crossing your face.

“Hi, Kelsey,” you say softly, your voice gentle, as if you’re greeting an old friend.

You think you hear her try to form the word please, but it’s lost in the thick, choking blood that fills her throat. Her body jerks slightly, like she’s trying to move, trying to plead, but it’s useless now.

You bring the knife to her face, the tip of the blade tracing lightly along her cheek, not even hard enough to cut. It’s almost affectionate, the way you drag the metal across her skin. But then, with a quick, practiced motion, you bring the knife down to her throat, slitting it cleanly, efficiently. There’s a brief spray of blood—splashing up onto your face—as her body convulses once, twice, and then slumps against the floor, lifeless.

“Fucking bitch,” you mutter under your breath, watching the last bit of life drain from her body. You stay there for a moment, just staring at her, taking in the scene—the blood, the broken, twisted limbs, the silence that settles over the room now that she’s dead.

You’re still staring when you feel Paige behind you again, pulling you up to stand. Her hands slide around your waist, her front pressing against your back. One of her big hands splays across your stomach, holding you close, while her other finds your wrist, gently taking the knife from your hold.

“That was so hot, baby,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with admiration and lust, her breath right against your ear.

You lean back into her touch, your body relaxing against hers as she starts to pepper soft kisses along your neck, her lips trailing up your jawline. The tension in the room shifts from the violence of the kill to something more intimate, more charged. You close your eyes, letting the sensation of her mouth on your skin, her hands on your body, wash over you.

Paige’s teeth graze against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck before she begins to suck, hard enough to leave a mark. You gasp softly, the sensation heightened as her hands slowly slide up your arms, fingers brushing the fabric of your zip-up hoodie. In one smooth motion, she tugs it down, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your red, lacy tank top. Ironically, the color is a perfect match for the blood spattered across the room, across both of you.

Her hands move to your shoulders first, but then one of them drifts lower, grabbing at your chest, squeezing your tit through the thin lace, pulling your back tighter against her front. You feel caged in her hold, a gasp escaping your lips as her grip grows firmer. But the real shock comes when you feel the teasing touch of the knife, the cold metal ghosting along the skin of your arm. Paige trails it down, tracing the sliver of bare skin just below where your tank top ends and just above where your sweatpants begin.

And then, with deliberate precision, Paige slashes the knife upward, cutting clean through the middle of your tank top. The fabric falls open, revealing your skin to the cool air and the warmth of her breath on your neck. You whine softly, “P, that was expensive.”

Paige just chuckles darkly, her fingers tightening around your breast, thumb brushing over your now pert nipple, as she whispers, “I’ll buy you another one.” With that, she pulls the torn fabric off you, letting it drop to the ground, leaving you completely topless. You weren’t wearing a bra beneath the tank, and the sudden exposure makes you shiver, but Paige’s body pressed against yours keeps you warm.

In one swift motion, she’s spinning you around, pressing her lips against yours, kissing you with a rough intensity. You can taste the blood on her lips, probably a mixture of the blood spatters on both of your faces. Her hand grips the side of your neck, holding you firmly in place, while her other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Her palm presses into your lower back, and the cold handle of the knife digs into your skin, a reminder of everything you’ve just done together.

Your hands move instinctively to her ponytail, fingers threading through her braids before you give a slight tug. The moan that escapes from your lips is muffled by her kiss, but it’s enough to make Paige groan against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. You pulling her hair seems to set something off in her, fueling that dark intensity behind her eyes. She bites at your bottom lip, tugging lightly as she starts to push you back, guiding you towards the couch.

When the back of your legs hit the edge, you lose your balance and fall back onto the cushions, and Paige doesn’t waste a second. She’s immediately on top of you, her knee slipping between your legs, nudging against your clothed core with a teasing pressure. Her hand is already at your chest, kneading your breast while her other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you wince—but in the way you like. You can feel the heat building inside you as her fingers press into the sides of your neck, right where your pulse pounds beneath your skin.

Paige’s mouth meets yours again, more demanding this time, her tongue pushing past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. The pressure of her thumb on your pulse point makes your head swim, the sensation mixing pleasure with just the right hint of pain. You moan again, this time louder, your hips instinctively shifting under her as you crave more of that pressure between your legs.

She pulls away for a moment, just enough to trail her tongue along the edge of your lips, teasing and slow. Her tongue slides down to your chin, licking away the last remnants of the bartender’s blood from earlier, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The metallic tang still lingers as she leans back in to kiss you again, the taste of blood filling both of your mouths, and it only makes you want more.

And then you begin to feel something cold and sharp press against your skin. It takes you a second to realize what it is—she’s taken the knife again, and now the cold, wet metal is sliding over the valley between your breasts. The feeling sends a shiver through your body, and you gasp into her mouth as she presses the blade against your skin, wiping the blood from earlier onto you.

She pulls back slightly, her darkened eyes focused on the trail of blood she’s smearing onto your chest. The sight alone makes your breath catch. Paige’s lips curve into a smirk as she watches your reaction, clearly enjoying the way your body tenses beneath her. She doesn’t say anything at first, just lets her mouth move downward, trailing kisses along your collarbones, lingering there as her hot breath mingles with the coolness of the blood.

“God, you look so fucking good like this,” Paige murmurs against your skin, her voice low and gravelly. Her lips are teasing, pressing soft, feather-light kisses that make your heart pound harder.

Then she lowers her head further, until her mouth is right between your breasts, where the blood is smeared in a messy line. You feel her tongue dart out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe across your skin, cleaning the blood off in one long motion. The sensation makes you arch your back, a soft moan slipping from your lips as her tongue glides over your skin.

Her knee presses harder between your legs, creating a delicious friction that has you biting your lip, trying to stifle another moan. But it’s impossible to keep quiet when Paige is so close, her body practically overwhelming yours with heat and pressure. You grip her back, nails digging into her shirt as she keeps licking the blood off your chest, the knife still cold in her hand as it brushes against your skin.

Paige chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you as she moves her lips to one of your breasts, taking your nipple into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, teasing, sucking lightly at first. Your whole body reacts, your breath catching in your throat, and a gasp escapes you as she bites down gently, enough to send a shock of pleasure through you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin as she switches to your other breast, her mouth relentless. “So perfect and pretty for me, baby.”

Her words send another wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan again, louder this time, your body arching into hers. The pressure of her knee between your legs intensifies, and you grind down instinctively, craving more of that contact.

Paige’s mouth leaves your breast, trailing wet kisses down your abdomen. Her tongue flicks out, teasing along your ribs, before she starts sucking at your skin hard enough that you know she’s leaving marks—evidence of where she’s claimed you, the sensation sending sharp tingles through you.

Her hands move with purpose, finding the waistband of your sweatpants. You don’t even realize what she’s doing until you feel her fingers digging into your pocket, pulling something out before she slides your pants down your legs, leaving you in nothing but the lacy red thong that matches the blood-smeared mess around you and that did match your now-ruined tank top.

Paige takes her time, her gaze dark and heated as she admires the way the lace clings to your skin. She reaches out, hooking her finger under the waistband of the thong, pulling it back teasingly. The pressure is light, but it’s enough to make you shiver as she flicks it back against your skin with a soft snap. Paige hums, clearly pleased by your reaction, her smirk growing as her eyes meet yours.

You’re about to say something, maybe tease her back, when you notice what’s in her hand. It takes a second for it to register, but then you realize it’s the voice changer. The same one you use to make all your taunting phone calls.

Paige brings it up to her lips, turning it on with a flick of her thumb. “Do you wanna play a game?” Her voice comes out distorted, deep and twisted in that familiar way, making your heart race with a mix of excitement and surprise.

Immediately, you reach for the voice changer, shaking your head. “Babe, that’s my thing—” you protest, because it is. You’re the one who always calls the shots. You’re the one who makes the phone calls, who controls the game. Not her.

But Paige is quicker. She pulls back just enough to keep it out of your reach, sitting up on her knees and holding the voice changer above her head, far enough that you’d have to try harder to grab it. She cocks her head, a playful yet dangerous glint in her eyes. “Ah-ah,” she clicks her tongue, the sound sharp and commanding. Her expression makes it clear—if you try to take it again, you’re not going to like what happens next.

You lower your hand, your heart pounding in anticipation, your body already responding to the shift in control. Paige’s eyes stay locked on yours, her smile widening as she brings the voice changer back to her lips.

“I said,” she repeats, her voice low and sultry before flicking it back on, “do you wanna play a game?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real defiance behind it, just attitude—the kind Paige loves and hates equally. “What kinda game?” you ask, the challenge evident in your tone.

Paige’s grin grows, dark and wicked. She’s clearly enjoying this. “Oh, it’s simple,” she begins, her voice turning to a dangerous purr. “You’re gonna follow my rules. You do exactly what I say, and maybe I’ll let you finish.”

You scoff a little at that, trying to keep up the act of being unimpressed, but there’s no denying the way her words send a surge of heat straight through you. “And what if I don’t?” you counter, testing her.

Paige’s eyes flash, her smirk growing more predatory, the same look she gets before she kills. She leans in close, the voice changer still in hand as she trails the back of the knife down your stomach, teasingly slow. “Then I’ll make sure you beg for it,” she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.

You feel your throat go dry at the sensation of the knife, her breath, the words she says. You swallow, staying quiet.

“You like that, yeah?” Paige says, her voice dropping lower as she presses the flat of the knife against your stomach, the cool metal sending shivers down your spine. “When I’m the one tellin’ you what to do, when I make you all desperate and shi.”

Paige continues to move the knife down, grazing along the edge of your thong, the metal tracing the fabric lightly as she keeps talking through the voice changer. “Here’s what we’re gon’ do,” she starts, giving you a pointed look. “You’re gonna keep your hands right here,” she instructs, using her own hand to bring your wrists together and pulling them over your head, resting behind you against the armrest of the couch. “And you’re not gon’ move them. If you do… I’ll make sure it’s not pretty, ‘kay?” The implication is enough to make your breath hitch.

You stare up at her, heart racing, but you don’t argue. The way she’s looking at you—hungry and in control—makes you want to give in. To let her push you to the edge.

“And you’re gonna beg,” Paige adds, her voice husky, the grin on her face positively wicked. “Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to let you cum. You’re gonna tell me how much you need it.”

Your lips part, but before you can respond, Paige presses the knife lightly against your skin again, the threat clear but enticing.

“Do you wanna play?” she asks once more, using the voice changer. But this time, it’s not really a question. It’s more of a demand.

You don’t say anything for a long moment, staying silent. But Paige won’t have that. She takes the handle of the knife, lightly stroking your clothed clit with it, keeping her eyes on your face. Your hips buck up involuntarily at the feeling, and your gaze lands on hers, catching sight of her waiting expression. You sigh in discomfort, wanting more, shifting your hips a little. However, you know she won’t give you any more of what you need if you don’t agree to play her stupid fucking game. So, you kiss your teeth and mutter, “Fine. Let’s play.”

Paige immediately grins at your response, clearly eager for some more excitement (as if her night hasn’t been filled with enough of that already), tossing the voice changer across the room. She leans down, pressing her lips against your hipbone as she twists the knife back around to the sharp end, trailing the tip along your thong teasingly. You feel yourself shudder a little bit at the feeling, glancing down, chin pressing into your chest as you try to get a better look.

And then Paige is effectively ruining more of your clothing, tearing the fabric of your thong apart with the knife. It splits open, revealing your glistening cunt to the blonde.

“Paige—” you begin to protest annoyedly, irritated with her affinity of slashing your clothes apart tonight.

However, her head snaps up to look at you at the sound of your attitude leaking back into your voice. She glares, eyes narrowing as she tells you, “Shut the fuck up. Ion wanna hear none of your attitude bullshit tonight.”

You fight the urge to scoff at her, instead opting to stay quiet. You watch as she hooks her fingers around the flimsy fabric of what’s left of your thong before tossing them to the side, leaving you completely naked before her. Before you can even really process what’s going to happen next, she’s leaning in, her hot breath landing between your legs. But instead of her tongue or her lips making contact with your folds, it’s Paige’s teeth—biting at your clit. You gasp at the sensation, a little taken aback at the mixture of sting and serenity, and you can’t help but let your hand fall to her head to hold her there.

She won’t have that, though.

The feeling of your hand in her hair makes her pull back immediately, making you lose any feeling between your legs. You whimper a little at the loss, but she doesn’t care, slapping your hand away from her head. She grabs at the wrist of the same hand she’s just hit, eyes flashing at you as she pulls your arm back above your head, locking your wrists together with her fingers.

“The fuck did I tell you?” she snaps, glaring pointedly, irritation clearly seeping into her. “Keep your hands up there. Don’t fuckin’ move ’em unless I say so.”

You glare back at her, equally annoyed and turned on by her demands. She’s staring expectantly at you, waiting for a response, her nails digging into your wrists slightly. Eventually, you roll your eyes and cave, muttering, “Fine, Jesus.”

You watch as her eyes narrow at the bratty tone of your voice, though—surprisingly—she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t snap at you again to behave yourself. But she also doesn’t do anything. She removes her hands from your wrists, making sure you keep them up there, but, after that, she doesn’t make herself useful in any way. Instead, she leans back a little, her body still between your parted legs, just staring. She keeps her lips pursed as her eyes flick between your face and your glistening cunt that’s on full display before her, just inches away. You shift your hips a little, hoping she’ll get the message and do something for you, but she doesn’t. She just keeps watching you, eyes tracking the movement of your hips, keeping herself still.

You whine a little, nails digging into the couch armrest above you. “What’re you waiting for?” you finally retort, very annoyed by this point.

However, that annoyance seems to seep out of you pretty quickly as you feel the tip of the knife blade dig into your hip bone, just enough that if Paige pushed it any harder, it would certainly draw blood. You swallow a little, looking up at the blonde, trying to hold your ground.

“Enough with the fuckin’ attitude, ma,” she says firmly, clearly as tired of your shit as you are of here. You feel her begin to trail the blade along your skin slightly, before she’s adding, “And what—you already forgot one of my rules?”

You furrow you eyebrows at the question, not sure what she’s referring to. All you can really feel is the heat between your legs, and the stark cold metal of the knife against your skin.

She clicks her tongue at your obvious confusion, tipping the knife against you, breaking the skin ever so slightly. It doesn’t really hurt, just stings some, and you look down to see the tiniest bit of blood surrounding the cut she’s made, a hint of crimson tainting the silver of the knife. And then Paige is crawling a little forward, so that she’s hovering over you, and you feel yourself shiver beneath her.

She leans closer, her breath hot against your cheek, the cold metal of the knife now grazing along the curve of your jaw, before slowly, deliberately, moving toward your lips. She traces the blade across your lower lip, and you feel the wetness of your own blood against it.

“Open,” she orders, her tone firm, eyes alight with a mixture of control and something more primal.

Your heart races, but you do as she says, parting your lips slightly. The flat of the blade presses against your tongue, leaving the metallic taste of your blood in your mouth. She’s watching you do it intensely, pupils blown and eyes focused. And then she’s pulling it back, teasing you, leaving your body tense and wanting. Her lips quirk into a smirk, clearly pleased with the way your body reacts beneath hers, the power she holds over you.

Then she straightens, pulling the knife away, her expression both playful and commanding as she watches you intently. Her voice is soft, but dripping with authority, “You gotta beg for it, baby.”

You bite your lip, staring defiantly up at Paige, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you beg. You can see the flicker of frustration in her eyes as her grip on the knife tightens. She leans in, her breath fanning across your skin, but you hold firm, a smirk playing on your lips despite the tension crackling between you. You’re playing with fire, and you know it.

It’s right then where Paige’s patience snaps. Her hand shoots up to grab your jaw, her fingers pressing into your skin, hard enough to hurt some. “You’re being a real bitch tonight,” she husks, eyes narrowing as her thumb brushes over your lower lip. “I think I might just have to punish you for it.”

You can feel your heart race at her words, but you refuse to back down, a flicker of defiance still lingering in your expression, a slight smirk still pulling up your lips.

Paige tilts her head, her grip tightening slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just act like this and get away with it?” she continues, her voice low and controlled, though you can feel the anger bubbling underneath. “Fine. If you won’t beg, then you don’t get to make a single sound.”

You feel your eyes widen without thinking about it, realizing what she’s getting at, but she only smirks at your reaction.

“If you make any noise,” Paige says, leaning in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “then I won’t let you finish. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not until you learn how to fucking behave.” Her voice is dripping with authority, every word hanging between you like a challenge.

You swallow hard, trying to steel yourself, but the way she’s looking at you—like she’s already won this round—makes it difficult. You know she’s pushing your limits, testing just how far she can take this.

She doesn’t wait for you to answer, instead crawling back down your body, keeping your thighs spread open, resting herself between them. Immediately getting to work, probably impatient herself, her mouth attaches to the skin of your inner thigh, sucking harshly, certainly enough to leave a mark for tomorrow. And then she’s kissing her way up to the cut she’s imprinted on your hip, ghosting her tongue along the small sliver of slashed skin and the blood that rests with it. It stings, and you hear yourself gasp, whimpering at the feeling. She’s not fond of that, though, wanting you to stay quiet as she’s told you, so she pinches your thigh hard. You fight to not let the noise that’s burrowed itself in your throat get through, swallowing it down. If you behave, you’ll get what you want—so you might as well just let her have her fun.

She’s getting closer to where you need her, her nose brushing against your clit as she ghosts her lips along the side of your pussy, teasing you. You shift your hips slightly, desperate for the friction you’ve been needing, but her hands grab at each hip bone, holding you down so you stay still.

And then she’s diving in, pressing her tongue to your aching cunt, licking a long stripe right up between your folds. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the long awaited pleasure, keeping silent just as she told you to. She presses her mouth against you completely, enough to feel her every breath on you, rolling her tongue right against your clit.

Paige moans a little against you, sending vibrations through you that have your legs shaking. As she continues rolling her tongue in that famous, miraculous rhythm of hers against your bundle of nerves, one of her hands reaches up to your tit, thumb brushing along the nipple and pinching it.

You bite your lip, finally being a good girl and listening to Paige’s demands like she’s wanted this whole time. You stay silent, though your breaths come quicker, faster, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Paige’s hand.

She glances up at you, smirking against you as she catches sight of the beads of sweat forming along your skin, your flushed face, the way you’re fighting to stay quiet. Her tongue slides along the expanse of your slit before slipping inside of you, making your thighs quiver and a tiny gasp to escape your lips. Paige glares up at you warningly at that, making sure you remember well that if you’re not quiet, you’re not cumming.

And then she’s returning her focus back to your pussy, sliding her tongue in and out of you a couple times in a slow rhythm. You can tell she’s enjoying this by the way her eyes slip shut, brows furrowing in concentration. She then brings her mouth back up to your clit, flicking her tongue up and down, up and down, up and down, in a way that makes you see stars. You dig your nails into your palms, squeezing your eyes shut at the euphoric feeling.

“Shit,” Paige mumbles as she pulls away, staring at your soaking cunt before adding to the wetness, spitting on you. She watches her saliva slide between your folds and then leans in to lap it up with her tongue. She moans against you, probably at the taste, saying, “You’re gonna kill me with this pussy, baby. Could eat you forever.”

You let out a long, shaky breath at the words, scrunching your face up a little she sucks on your clit. Hard. You feel her teeth scrape against it, too, and you swear your nails are going to draw blood if you dig them any deeper into your skin.

Breathing heavily, she suddenly pulls up and sits on her knees between your legs, letting go of your hips and pushing your legs further apart. Looking down between them, Paige is suddenly thrusting three of her fingers into you without any warning. You can’t help it—it makes you shudder out something between a moan and a gasp, exclaiming, “Fuck!”

Paige won’t have that for a second, immediately pulling her fingers out of you to slap your pussy. “Shut the fuck up,” she tells you, biting along your skin as she slowly crawls up to your face again. “Can’t ever fuckin’ listen to me, can you?” she asks, her fingers trailing to your clit, circling it harshly. It makes your legs shudder and shake and you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur, gasping as you feel the heat in your stomach begin to rise, the coil getting ready to snap.

Paige’s fingers find their way back inside you, all three of them pumping. Your pussy squelches with her relentless pace, the sounds beyond filthy. Her other hand has found it’s way back to your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck, your pulse racing against her hand. “Don’t lie,” she snaps, eyes flitting between your face and the way her fingers are thrusting into you with absolutely no mercy. “You’re not a bitch, I’ve seen you take worse.”

You whimper a little at her words and it only makes her fingers speed up, sliding in and out and then curling in a come hither motion, making you see stars. “Y’know, Kelsey wanted to fuck me,” Paige taunts. Your eyes flash open at the words, the same flare of jealousy and anger rushing into you as remember the night at the bar. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t still care, especially as your gaze darts to see a quick glance of Kelsey’s dead body across the room. But, still, Paige’s words send a rush of irritation through you. She can tell, and she smirks, her thumb now abusing your clit as her fingers continue their pace. “You think she coulda kept quiet? Think she woulda been a good girl for me? She seemed very sweet.”

“She’s dead,” you grunt out, trying not to let Paige’s words get in the way of the feeling of her fingers in you, on you. “So I guess you’ll never know.”

That makes Paige’s hand squeeze your neck a little, enough for you to cry out at the dual sensation of that and her thrusting fingers. It’s all getting too much, the heat building as Paige’s pace keeps steady, your hips rising to meet her digits as they pump in and out. “Fuck, you make me crazy,” the blonde says, her lips trailing to your neck to suck a mark against your skin. “Such a brat, baby.”

The sensation between your legs has you forgetting Paige’s rules, and you think that at this point, she’s forgotten them, too, because your hands are moving from above your head to tangle in her ponytail, tugging as her fingers curl inside you. She doesn’t do anything to stop you, instead humming against your neck.

“P,” you manage to gasp out, voice shaking. You’re faintly aware that you’re sweating, your hair sticking sticking to your damp forehead and neck, your whole body pulsing with heat. “Paige, ‘m gonna cum.”

Paige nods against you, her tongue swiping against the hollow of your throat, her fingers thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. Vaguely, you wonder if her hand is cramping yet. “I know, baby,” she says a little breathlessly, against your skin. “Come on, ma, give it to me. Wanna feel it bad.”

You let out a shaky cry, hands finding their way beneath Paige’s shirt, nails digging into her back, certainly leaving scratch marks. Every thrust, every breath that Paige takes against your skin—it’s all too much, and you can feel herself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, the pleasure building with every second.

And then you’re moaning out, “Oh my God—fuck!” as the coil within you snaps, your back arching against Paige’s hand, your heart racing. “Fuck,” you say again, quieter this time, trying to blink away the stars in your vision.

Your breath comes in quick bursts as you slowly come down from your high, feeling a euphoric mixture of adrenaline and warmth coursing through your veins. You lean back against the couch cushions, now damp with blood and your own arousal, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Paige presses further into you, her breath hot and feverish against your neck, and you feel her say your name against your skin. And then she’s slowly pulling her fingers out of your soaking cunt, trailing them up to your mouth as she draws back slightly.

She slips them past your lips and you let her, mouth sucking her fingers clean, tongue gliding along her digits. The way her eyes glaze over watching you do it, lust filling her pupils, makes you think that you’re about to get fucked into oblivion for a round two. But then her gaze trails somewhere behind your head—probably to Kelsey’s dead body, if you had to guess—and she’s sighing, resigned, as she pulls her fingers from your mouth, tangling them in your hair. She presses her lips against yours firmly for just a moment, before she’s pulling away, saying, a smirk pulling the corners of her lips up, “We gotta go before they catch us.”

You frown a little, pouting as you say, “Fun’s over.”

She shakes her head slightly at you, still smirking as she responds, “Nah, when we get home, we can have all the fun you want.” And then she’s reaching down onto the floor, grabbing the ghostface mask and slipping it over your head, covering your face. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You slip into your clothes quickly, watching as Paige grabs the knife and checks around the room to see if either of you have forgotten anything. Once you’re ready, the two of you open the apartment door, leaving your mess for someone to find later. However, you and Paige leave, she of course does not forget to call out into the empty apartment, “Bye, Kelsey!”

The door slams shut behind you, and, obviously, there is no response back.